Episode 5 Bluestone 42

This programme contains very strong language

PLANES ROAR

Sir.

Sergeant Robert Hogg from the search team, boss.

Bob Hogg.

Nick Medhurst. So, you've already met Millsy.

This is Bird. There's Simon, Rocket and Mac.

No offence, Sergeant, but where's Corporal Spooner?

R&R. As are all the Desert Spoons.

-Desert Spoons!

-BOTH CHUCKLE

Because "desert spoons" sounds like "dessert spoons".

-Yeah.

-Classic.

HOGG SIGHS

So, we're the Road Hoggs, cos I'm called Hogg and we clear the road. Heh.

At least, I hope we do. Heh.

On the road we've got Bogbrush and the Tosser,

and at the front, we have Fortunate Darren, and our point man, Sandbag.

-Why's he called Fortunate Darren?

-Cos he's not the point man!

POLITE CHUCKLING

Right. All done. Good work, Road Hoggs!

Over to you.

MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO

Why don't we have a team name?

-Hm?

-I think the main reason is because...

we're not ten years old.

-SOLDIER IN DISTANCE: Oh, yeah!

-The Bomb Guys.

-Oh-oh! Oh!

-Bird's Bomb Guys.

No?

-Aah!

-Bird's Bell-ends?

Do you want the suit, boss? I would if I were you.

Nah. It's too hot.

Sh... Shit.

Er...guys? Guys! Guys!

Hogg! Hogg! Oi, Hogg! You're the leader of the search team.

-Come here. Help me look for my Fisherman's Friend. It's my last one.

-Sandbag!

Set Vallon to detect menthol!

Your lucky sweets, are they?

You ATOs always have some superstitious ritual.

I'm not superstitious. They just help me focus.

-Oh, boss! Boss! I've got it.

-Thank you, Millsy.

Tell you what. The ATO in Bluestone 31

always has to touch his number two's arse before he does the long walk.

What?

Nah. Think I'll stick to the sweets.

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO

God, my balls are hot.

I've got serious hot balls.

There's so much sweat, you could catch it in a bucket.

-It's the blast pants.

-Aye.

I mean, whit's the point in protecting your balls against IEDs

-if they're just gonnae melt anyways?

-Mac.

If you don't shut up about your balls...

..I'm going to come over there and pull them off myself.

Pull off my balls? Gay.

Eyes on!

FIZZING

Oh, shit.

Oh, really shit. Millsy!

Angry bomb!

Everyone, eyes down! Take cover!

Boss!

-Millsy, prepare to fire the disruptor!

-OK, everybody!

-Stand by!

-Fire it!

Firing! Boss.

NICK PANTS

Caught fire.

-You OK, boss?

-Yeah.

Oh, God. Ooh!

Whew. Battery pack. Whoof!

-That

-was a close call.

Oh! I thought this might happen.

Sorry?

-LOW CHATTER

-Boss?

Just going to keep that as a lovely surprise?

No, I...I didn't mean that...

Well, I've noticed a couple of trends in the devices in the last month.

Oh, and what is the fashionable terrorist planting this season,

-according to Millsy?

-Look, I know you've been keeping your own records,

but I've been keeping some too, and I've spotted a pattern.

Oh, and were you planning to share this with me at any point?

Yeah, sure, I can show you everything when we get back.

Good. No, wait. Is this going to involve graphs?

Well, I mean, there are a few ways to project the...

I...I could focus solely on the... I...I could minimise the...

-OK, no graphs.

-Good.

What about Bird's Brave Bastards?

Fuck off. - Shit!

Bird, we already have a name.

-Bluestone 42, our call sign.

-Yeah.

But, Bluestone, what even is that?

Actually, the pillars of Stonehenge are made from bluestone,

-although "bluestone" means just any foreign stone...

-Oh, yeah.

Thank you, Wankipedia.

-LAUGHTER

-How about something like...

Team Intrepid?

-Fuck's sake.

-Intrepid? Yeah, Simon, let's have a name

that makes us sound like we're off Junior Apprentice.

Bird's Bitches!

No!

PLANES ROAR

Here, who's up for a game of Extreme Hockey Ultimate Extreme?

-Gleaming! I'll get the crowbars!

-Please, no.

-Dry Water-Skiing?

-Cook-House Splatterbang?

-No!

-Aw, Skip.

-You're as much fun as a turd on a plate.

-Mm.

-Eh, how about a game of Freckles?

-Ooh!

There is a time and a place for games, and it is not now.

Gay.

-You never play our games, Skip.

-Millsy wants to show us something.

If he's invented a ball-cooling device, I'm in.

-MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO

-So, I've been keeping a log.

Put it in a bag and burn it, like everybody else.

Simmer down. Millsy?

So, I've been keeping a record of all the devices we've encountered

and I've broken them down into two types.

-I said no graphs.

-It's a scatter diagram, boss.

So, the blue crosses are bog-standard devices that are easy to render safe.

Easy? Interesting. Do go on.

And, um...

Well, the red crosses are what I like to call...

-HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

-..a TDM.

Tedium? That's a good name.

-It stands for "training didn't matter".

-I beg your fucking pardon?

Well, I mean the fact that the device didn't fully detonate

was down to, er...chance, rather than our intervention or our training.

Boss. Like the one this morning.

The one this morning was bog standard, Millsy.

The only reason it caught fire

was because the Taliban paid the village idiot to put it in the ground.

But, look, TDMs come in batches and we're due another batch very soon.

No. No, we're not, Millsy. This is all speculation. You know what? It's bollocks.

What do we do if we find something unusual?

We follow training and procedure.

So, if we do find one of your tedious devices, what do we do, Millsy?

-We follow training and procedure, boss.

-Brilliant. Thanks for that, Millsy.

Insightful as ever. Good meeting, everyone.

Bloody hell, what happened?

Can't find my sodding Fisherman's Friends. I had a spare bag somewhere.

Shit.

As you say...

shit.

Nick, have I done something wrong with Rocket and Mac?

I don't know, Simon, have you? Have you been touching them while they sleep?

Why don't they respect me?

Ah, it's hard to know what to choose. Let's pick one.

Mm, maybe because, I don't know, you don't join in their games?

Their games are stupid, dangerous and often quite unhygienic.

-Which is why they're fun.

-So, if I join in, they'll respect me?

Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, Simon. But it is a start.

Hi, Nick. Simon.

Rocket and Mac wanted to know if anyone had five litres of bleach.

Some game called, um...Camo Whiteout.

Right, I'd better, um...

So, what are you doing?

This place looks like a bomb's hit...

Er...I mean... Er...sorry.

So, um, how are the team?

-Anything I can do for you?

-Well...

-Apart from that.

-Oh. You know, I'm always happy to come out on ops.

Some of your guys might appreciate a bit of, um...spiritual top cover.

Well, you could do that from here, couldn't you?

Or does your praying have a maximum range?

Very funny. So, what are you looking for?

I can't find my bloody Fisherman's Friends.

-I've got Mint Imperials.

-HE GASPS

-I had no idea.

-Get off. What are you doing?

-You have the face and body of a much younger woman, and yet, actually, you're 96.

-What?

Mint Imperials are granny sweets.

Why, Grandma, what young, fresh skin you have!

Good chat, Nick.

OK.

THEY LAUGH

-Ah, fuck!

-Ha-ha-ha! Yes!

-THEY LAUGH

-Guys! Guys!

Shite, Skip, we're only playing

-a wee game.

-Well,

as long as there's no bleach involved, I'm in.

Really?

-Yeah.

-Gleaming.

-On your marks, get set...

-Oh, hang on, hang on, hang on! What are the rules?

Total Fencing Deluxe? Well, if I remember rightly, Mac, it's ten points for the head,

five points for the body, both hands on the pole, first to 30, no kicking, no biting, and no peeking.

Oh. Right, sir.

Well, how do you play it?

-Carry on!

-Oh!

-Play!

-WHOOPING AND LAUGHTER

Yeah!

-Ten points to Skip!

-Come on! Come on!

Play!

-Ten points to Skip.

-Come on!

And play!

-Five points to Mac!

-Yaah!

Fuck!

-The winner is Skip!

-Yes!

Yes!

HE SHOUTS

Who's the daddy? Huh?

First game and I totally kick your arse!

-Aye, all right, Skip. Easy.

-Right, we're off.

I just kicked Mac's arse at Total Fencing Deluxe.

Which he invented.

Nice one.

Get this... Let's get this packed up.

-Oh! You fuck!

-THEY LAUGH

OK, and you're absolutely sure they're not in your quarters?

-Yeah, I looked, I looked.

-OK. Well, could they be in the det?

-I've checked everywhere, Millsy.

-You ready?

-No. Wait.

-Where's my last bag of Fisherman's Friends? Have you hidden them again?

-No.

No, no. Wasn't that the bag you lost at poker?

-Oh, shit sticks.

-I just assumed you replaced them.

-Boss, we really should be...

-Yes, I know, Millsy!

OK, OK, er, run and tell Mary that she can come with us.

Go on, chop-chop.

Bit of spiritual top cover, eh?

What? No.

Look, she asked to come, so I'm letting her, OK?

You're not worried about all that crap Millsy was spouting earlier, are you?

-PLANE ROARS

-Boss?

No. No, I'm fine. Right as rain.

The really right kind of rain. The...right rain. Right? All right?

-All right?

-All right, boss?

-Right, come on, Bird's Boneheads.

-Mm!

It's got a ring tae it.

-Aye. So does my arse.

-SNORTS

All done, just one device.

Although there is a big pile of goat shit down there on the left.

-We should check again.

-No, it's definitely goat shit.

Confirmed that with the Mark 1 eyeball. Ha-ha!

You heard him, Hogg. Check again. Millsy, get the robot ready.

-When these guys are finished, we'll double-check with that.

-Boss.

Aye-aye! Feeling jumpy?

Let me guess, run out of Fisherman's Friends?

Why are you still here, talking?

Well, we have double-checked for...

You search until the ATO's satisfied. Do I look satisfied to you?

No, wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Wait. Let me make this easier for you. OK? I'm the ATO.

See? ATO.

This face? Not satisfied!

Sir. Fortunate Darren! Sandbag! Here we go round the mulberry bush.

And will you leave it out with the fucking jokes when there's IEDs around?

Someone might get killed. You know, you, in fact, might get killed by me!

Fuck's sake!

You know, I am sick of your stupid grinning face

every time I get ready to go down there!

Just do your fucking job, you absolute waste of uniform and training!

HELICOPTER WHIRRS Sir.

-Battery's low, boss.

-I want to be certain what we're dealing with.

And we lose the A&A cordon in an hour, so...

I should just check the...

thing.

MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO

-Are you praying?

-Is that all right?

As long as you get Baby Jesus to make my mum send me some chocolates.

I'm not sure it works like that.

I'm not sure it works at all.

ROBOT WHIRRS AND STOPS

Shit. Battery's gone.

Fuck it. Right.

I'd better get down there.

-Got those Mint Imperials?

-Yeah, sure.

Although they're not as strong as Fisherman's Friends.

Unless you eat 20 of them.

-Ooh!

-MUFFLED SPEECH:

-Soot, Millsy!

Shoot? Er, shoot...shoot what, boss?

-MUFFLED SPEECH:

-Soot, Millsy! Soot.

-Oh.

Suit. Suit.

BIRDSONG

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

When I'm tense, I just imagine giving my mum a wee cuddle.

Aye. When I'm tense, I imagine giving your mum a wee cuddle.

Away tae fuck!

-ON RADIO:

-Guess what, Millsy? Straightforward VOIED.

No secondaries.

Bog standard.

So boggy, you could stride across it, admiring the heather,

whilst a team of jolly Irish labourers cut peat from a...

Yeah, I'm getting bored of this metaphor.

Would you like me to fire the disruptor, boss?

No, Millsy, cos I did it with my snips.

And without...my Fisherman's Friends.

I snipped the shit out of it.

That device will no longer be fathering other smaller devices,

because of my really expert snipping.

So much for your doom-laden horse shit.

I didn't say it would definitely be today, OK?

So, I might die tomorrow? Thank you very much, Millsy.

No, look, that's not what I meant, boss. I...

Boss?

Um...

how many Mint Imperials did you have?

I just need to know so I can pack them for next time.

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

LOW CHATTER OVER RADIO

VEHICLES RUMBLE

If we had a lucky mascot, we could be named after that!

-We've got one! Andy McNab!

-No! No, no, no!

Andy McNab is the name of Mac's cock!

Why? Because it's been out of action for years?

LAUGHTER

Fucking hell, Padre! Serious! Not cool! That's way out of order!

-Maybe we could be called...

-No!

That's it! No more nicknames! We're called Bluestone 42!

Or how about, "a bunch of noisy cunts who won't fucking shut up"?

-VEHICLE RUMBLES AND SQUEAKS

-No?

Good.

We've really got to get hold of some Fishermen's Friends.

He's done one device without. He'll be fine.

No, no, no, no. He's in a period of high stress, when he really shouldn't be.

What, you keep graphs on his mood swings as well?

-You are kidding me?

-Right now he's up here,

very stressed, when he should be here, relaxed.

You're insane.

-Or very sane.

-No.

Now, I think we can track down the bag he lost at poker.

Oh, give me strength.

-Nick lost the whole bag to Captain Softly. Captain Softly then lost...

-I tell you what.

You cream yourself over your graph. I'll just get on the phone and ask for some.

It's a flow chart, actually.

-Knock, knock?

-Hi.

Yeah, a...a special "tidying up" bomb hit it.

Right. Um... CO's just flown back in.

He wants a chat.

OK.

Nick.

-Is everything all right?

-Yeah, I think so. Why?

Cos since you ran out of your special sweets, you've been acting like a massive bell-end.

Might want to work on your bedside manner there, Padre.

Right, it's totally understandable that you're a little bit superstitious.

I'm not superstitious, OK?

-We had intelligence suggesting that the next bomb could...

-Put that down.

-This is knackered. You should bin it.

-No, no.

No, no, no, no, no.

HE CLEARS HIS THROAT

This is the tin that I had when I did my first bomb.

Basra, 2008.

-And every bomb since.

-Not that a little metal tin could affect anything.

Yeah, well, it's not like you're not superstitious, is it?

I mean, Jesus is basically just your Fisherman's Friend.

-Huh! He was the friend of fishermen.

-Oh, shit, I really walked into that one, didn't I?

Yeah, at least four of the disciples were fishermen.

-Yes, OK, I get it. Run along now.

-Good luck with the CO.

Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Whoo!

Guys! Guys!

Guys! What are you doing?

-Just a wee game.

-Aye. Fucking Bronco.

One of the grease monkeys said we could borrow it for ten minutes.

No! I mean, I can't believe you're playing without me. Room for a small one?

-It's best played wi' two.

-Aye.

I could referee. HE WHISTLES

No ref in Fucking Bronco. Obviously.

Different game, then?

I think that ten minutes is up, Rocket.

-We should return the vehicle as agreed.

-Aye.

There's a time and a place for games, but that time is now over.

And that place is now over.

VEHICLE REVS

-Why won't they let me join in?

-I don't know, Simon.

Is it because you repeatedly hit one of your men round the head

with a big metal stick yesterday, or for some other reason?

Look, if you beat them at their own game, you're gonna look like an arsehole.

-So, I have to lose?

-Sure, if you want to look like a pussy.

Look, just play for a bit, then say you've got something important to do, and leave.

Join in, step out. J-I-S-O. Jiso.

-Join in, step out.

-Actually, Jiso would be quite a good nickname for you, Simon.

-I'll stick with Simon.

-Sure thing, Jiso.

LOW CHATTER

KNOCKS ON DOOR

Come. Ah, Captain Medhurst.

Sir, if this is about yesterday, I know I overstepped...

Ah, yes. The "Hogg roast".

I presume you're going to apologise, fulsomely?

-First opportunity, sir.

-Good-oh.

Worth remembering that his team's job is probably even more dangerous than yours.

Have I ever introduced you to Little Philip?

My niece gave it to me when I passed out of Sandhurst.

I suppose she thought I was in the Guards. Precocious child, but well-meaning.

Now works for...Honda.

The point is, this little chap has seen me through a couple of scrapes in Bosnia,

Sierra Leone...

and a moment of questionable legality in Cyprus.

Mm. Never told my unit about him, of course.

Didn't want to shit them up in case I lost him.

Just thought you'd be interested.

-Carry on.

-Sir.

Ah, Faruq. Just the man. Look.

-Can you get hold of some Fisherman's Friends?

-You want Fisherman's Friends!

-Shh-shh-shh.

I get you Fisherman's Friends, very good price.

OK, if you can get them before the next call-out, I'll give you 20 dollars.

For 20 dollars, you get lots of Fisherman's Friends. Bye-bye!

HELICOPTER WHIRRS

Of course they don't have an order number. They're sweets.

Oh, forget it.

So, er...going to give up on those sweets.

Don't need 'em no more.

Got your, er, lucky pants on?

-All my pants are lucky.

-Except with Mary.

Yeah, cheers for pointing that out, Bird. You're a brick.

-Oh! Bird's Bricks? No, it's shit.

-Not again.

Bird, what is it with this team name obsession?

Look, I was never in the cool gang at school.

My dad was the physics teacher, for a start.

-But if we had a name...

-Bird.

We are the cool gang. We're a counter-IED team.

When you get back to England, you're going to be so cool, you're gonna be bored of it.

That's going to make you even cooler.

Cheers, Nick.

Ah. Look, guys, about yesterday. I really want to apologise.

Bender. HE SNORTS

Bender? That's good. Er...I got carried away. So, rematch?

-Something different?

-Aye, we'll think of something.

Jiso. HE SNORTS

Ah, morning, all.

How are things with Team Diversity?

Er...Team what, now, sir?

Team Diversity. No?

Public school boy. Essex boy. A black guy. A woman. A Scot. A closet homosexual.

HE LAUGHS

Oh, Mac, ya buftie!

My God, you're right.

I've been living a lie!

Come on, baby! I'll give you a rocket!

Piss off!

HE PUFFS In denial.

Very sad.

MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO Sorry, sir.

-Sir, with respect, um...

-PHONE RINGS

Team Diversity? I'm... I'm not just a token bird.

Course not. Just remarking on the changing face of the modern Army.

Carry on.

Guys, we're up. Transport's on its way.

OK, er... OK. Just, er, give me...give me two minutes.

Team Diversity? This is like Year Eight all over again.

Captain Nick! I have Fisherman's Friends!

Oh, thank fuck for that! How did you get them so...?

-Oh.

-The friends of fisherman, yes?

To help catch the fish.

-We agreed 30 dollars.

-No, Faruq.

Fisherman's Friends are a brand of sweet.

These are sweet, juicy. Er...special price, 20 dollars.

No. Look, Faruq, just take these back, OK?

Fisherman's Friends are...are small, brown, menthol sweets. Strong.

Menthol, brown, strong.

OK. I make some calls. Yeah, well, you've got about a minute before we have to go, so...

What's going on?

Well, we've got a shout on. You're going to come with us.

ENGINE STARTS UP

I'm just concerned I'll have to come out every time now.

But who's going to be sat at the base reading the Bible?

BAG RUSTLES

LOW CHATTER

OK.

Road Hoggs about to hand over to Team Diversity.

-Yeah, we're not called that, knob-face.

-Sandbag! We done?

That's two of your Earth minutes. Heh.

Boss, I tracked down your Fisherman's Friends.

Now, apparently, Lieutenant Freeman has them, but he's in Bastion now, so...

Millsy, thanks for going to all that trouble, but it's OK.

I've gone cold turkey.

-Oh. OK.

-Yeah. I don't need any stupid...

-Captain Nick!

-The Fisherman's Friends you asked for!

-I mean...

-I don't necessarily want...

-Oh, for fuck's sake, boss.

-Please, Nick, just have one.

We don't care.

Faruq, these appear to be sun-dried rabbit droppings...

OK, ten dollars.

..soaked in... HE SNIFFS

..some kind of cough mixture.

For you, five dollars! Go on.

BAG RUSTLES

I am actually considering eating one of these. What the fuck?

OK, right.

Good. Not playing this game any more.

No more TDMs, no more spiritual top cover, granny sweets,

no more lucky tins, Fisherman's Friends, and definitely no more rabbit shit.

We're done.

-Let's do this.

-Right.

-Do you want the suit, boss?

-Nah, too hot. I'll be fine.

After all, it's just drills and skills.

SCREAMING

Shit! Charlie, Charlie 1, this is Bluestone 42!

Contact IED. Wait out.

-Bird! Cat B!

-Hello, Diamond 21, this is Bluestone 42.

Contact IED. Partial detonation.

One cas, Cat B, ref Blue 1. Sitrep to follow.

Diamond 21, acknowledge.

ENGINE STARTS

So, it was just the detonator that functioned. Not the main charge.

-But why didn't the whole thing go up?

-You see,

some of the devices are what I call a TDM,

-which stands for...

-It didn't go up because...

because he's Fortunate Darren.

If he wasn't fortunate, he'd be pink mist right now.

Good job he was wearing his blast pants.

Aye.

Has anybody else got really hot balls?

-How is he?

-Yeah, he's fine.

Well, he's lost three toes on his left foot, but...

-They should call him Toto.

-They already have.

Was Toto that dog in The Wizard Of Oz?

-Yeah.

-Why's he named after a dog?

Because...

Doesn't matter.

ENGINE STOPS Oh, bollocks.

-Jesus Christ!

-Who did that?

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha(!)

Classic.

Don't know what you're laughing at. Road Hoggs is a shite name anyway.

Yeah, and as one of your guys is now called Toto,

I hereby christen you The Friends Of Dorothy.

LAUGHTER

-That's not going to catch on.

-I'm pretty sure it will.

Look, Hogg.

About yesterday.

I was totally out of order. I owe you an apology.

-So, sorry.

-All forgotten.

You ATOs all crack at some point. You ought to try doing my job.

Sorry?

Well, we're the ones at the sharp end. Still, mustn't grumble.

No.

-Fisherman's Friend?

-Oh, thanks.

Have the whole tin.

Sorry to hear about Toto. How's morale with the other Friends Of Dorothy?

MAN SPEAKS OVER RADIO

-Oh, guys! So, are we playing the game?

-Aye.

Aye.

We were thinking we should try...Blind Man's...Muff.

Mm, sounds great! I'm in!

..98, 99,

100.

Blind man's muff!

OK, what now, guys?

Guys?

Guys? Guys?

William.

Mac!

Rocket!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd