Turkey Dinner Dad's Army

# Who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler,

# If you think we're on the run?

# We are the boys who will stop your little game,

# We are the boys who will make you think again,

# 'Cos who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler,

# If you think old England's done?

# Mr Brown goes off to town on the 8:21,

# But he comes home each evening, And he's ready with his gun.

# So who do you think you are kidding, Mr Hitler,

# If you think old England's done? #

There it is. How do you like it?

Much better.

-Isn't it good?

-Bigger letters wouldn't have fitted on the board.

Quite adequate.

And tall, thin letters wouldn't have been right.

Why?

I like the letters on the door to be in keeping with the person sitting at the desk inside.

So I've done little, short, fat letters.

Thank you very much, Mr Bluett (!)

The men are ready for inspection.

I'll finish my speech later. I'm guest speaker at the Rotary Dinner.

How exciting.

-Are the men in good heart?

-As a matter of fact, they seem a bit quiet.

Really? I'll soon put that right!

Now, I've been reading a book called "Great Leaders of Men".

-And, you know, there's one thing they all had in common.

-Yes?

Before a battle, they'd tell the men a joke.

We're not having a battle, are we?

We are in the front line every minute of our lives here.

Squad, attention!

Stand at ease!

Sorry, sir, I didn't know you'd started.

Pay attention.

In view of the long night ahead, I thought I'd cheer you up with a little anecdote.

When I've finished, you may laugh.

How nice!

Don't anticipate it, Godfrey. Take that smile off your face.

Sorry, sir.

Now, it appears that there were three Tommies -

a Welshman, an Englishman, and a Scotsman...

Stop, Captain Mainwaring. I hope this is not another of those stupid jokes about kilts!

As a Scot I am sick and tired of hearing stupid Sassenach jokes that make a mock of us.

After all, WE don't make jokes about bowler hats!

Quiet, Frazer. It's nothing to do with kilts!

Where was I?

Er, a Welshman, an Englishman, and a Scotsman, sir.

The three Tommies were in the mess.

The Englishman said to the Scotsman, "Pass the semolina pudding."

And the Scotsman said, "No."

Englishman: "Why not?" Scotsman: "The regulations say, 'Never help a soldier to desert.' "

Dessert, you see... It's... Well, you can laugh!

I thought that'd cheer you up.

-That's put 'em in a good mood.

-Cheered them up no end.

-When you're handling men, always know when to unbend.

-I'll remember that, sir.

Sir, what happened to the Welshman?

Maybe he didn't like semolina. Ha!

MEN LAUGH

Permission to speak, sir. When we didn't laugh,

-it wasn't your joke-telling, sir.

-No, you told it quite well, really.

Oh, yes, very good it was, man.

I'll send it to Radio Fun.

They pay half a crown - five bob for good jokes.

We're just not in the mood for merry-making now, sir.

Come, come, that's not like an old soldier.

Atkins laughed, when he was chin-deep in mud!

True. We did a lot of laughing in the mud in the last war.

Except when we got shot!

But tonight is different, sir.

There was an incident last night, and we'd like to take you somewhere private and reveal something, sir.

Surely it'll be soon enough after the parade, won't it?

Quite right, captain.

He's making a flagpole out of a matchstick.

And bringing YOU in will make it ten times worse!

But Capt Mainwaring's the one who'll be court-martialled.

What's that? Court-martialled?!

Jones's section - into the office. You'd better come too, Wilson.

Frank! What on earth have you all been doing?

-Do you promise you won't tell Mum?

-Of course not.

Well...

No, I can't - it's a secret.

Right, come along. Settle down.

Now, what's all this about?

Well, sir. It was cold on patrol last night, wasn't it, lads?

Freezing.

So I took my lads to the Horse and Groom to make sure they got some rum.

I know you'd have done the same.

You know my views on alcohol, Jones.

We'd only just got back on patrol, when Mr Cheeseman began shivering.

When you have the nadgers, you shiver all over!

I knew you wouldn't want anything to happen to a guest - especially a newspaper reporter -

so I took him to the King's Head, and he was soon as right as rain.

I only had one in there.

We came out and as we was passing The Goat, the landlord came out and said he'd heard rumbling below.

I sent two men down and the rest of us stood by to give them cover.

Whereabouts?

Two in the saloon, the rest of us in the snug.

Thank you for telling me. Providing it doesn't recur, I'll overlook it.

-Er...the man's not finished.

-You mean there's more?

Well, it got a bit embarrassing.

-In that case you don't want to hear about it, sir.

-I DO! Go on.

It was I, sir. I'm afraid I...became rather embarrassing.

YOU, Godfrey?!

I'm afraid so, sir. I started to sing...rather raucously.

It was a song about a monk.

Well, as long as it was a religious song.

This one was not religious. It was a monk of high renown.

I see. Go on.

I didn't realise monks were like that...

All right! Just stop it, stop it!

I knew you wouldn't have approved, so we took him inside to sober up.

Inside the Red Lion, that was.

But while he was sobering up, we had hardly anything to drink, sir, hardly anything.

It was later that it got embarrassing.

-Are you sure you want to hear, sir?

-Be quiet, Wilson.

A man came and said he could hear something happening in a haystack.

I said jokingly, "Lots of things happen in haystacks!"

Aye, like Bronwen Jones who used to wash the glasses on Saturdays.

She was always in a haystack. They called her "Welcome in the Valley"!

Cheeseman, quiet, for heaven's sake.

Then I remembered I was a soldier and that it was my duty to go out and investigate.

I'm glad someone had some sense.

I sobered up quick as a flash - not that I was drunk.

But the thought of meeting a huge, parachuting German paratrooper, sir, possibly disguised as a nun,

sent a cold shiver down my spine.

But we rallied and went out into the murky night with fixed bayonets.

I wasn't at all scared. Gin and cider and whisky must give you courage...

Shut up, you fool!

Near the haystack, something fluttered up.

I was very alert by now, sir, and my reflections was very good.

So I raised my rifle and shot it!

What? You didn't shoot Bronwen Jones?!

No, a turkey - it's plucked now.

I can hardly believe my ears.

My platoon on a rampage from pub to pub!

It's like the stories by that chap on the wireless.

Rob Wilton?

"The day war broke out, my wife..."

Pike! Be quiet!

You should all be on a charge.

And you're getting too cheeky, boy. I'll speak to your mother about you.

That's unfair.

I'm being victimised. Why don't you have a word with Mr Jones's mother?

Leave her out of this. She's gone to another place.

Sorry, Mr Jones.

Angmering.

How many people know about this?

-Not many - she didn't know many...

-I don't mean your mother!

The rampage!

Nobody knows but us, sir. I say we should eat the turkey and hold our tongues.

Oh, no. There's only one place that turkey could belong - the North Barrington Turkey Farm.

You must apologise to Mr Boggis, and you're to pay for that bird.

TURKEYS GOBBLE

I say!

-Is Mr Boggis about?

-It's Wednesday!

-What did he say?

-He said, "It's Wednesday."

(I'll humour him.) Where is your master?

-I said it's Wednesday!

-(The man's obviously a fool.)

-It's Wednesday.

-Not you, too!

-Market day.

-Has he gone to market?

-Yes, it's Wednesday.

(This is getting us nowhere.) Have you lost a turkey?

Hard to say, isn't it?

My men have accidentally killed one. We think it must be from here.

We'd like to pay for it. Will you give this money to Mr Boggis,

-and ask him to accept our apology?

-Oh, no. It might not be his turkey.

Nobody else has them. It must be yours.

Mr Boggis would want to be sure one of ours was missing.

-How many should there be?

-210.

One, two, three, four... Keep still!

That's no good, it'll take years.

-We could count 30 each.

-Good idea, Pike.

Listen, everybody. Count 30 turkeys each, right?

THEY ALL COUNT

HE COUNTS FRANTICALLY

Five, ten, fifteen, twenty... Oh! It'll no' work at all!

Wilson, you're part of this platoon, too!

-How do we know we're not counting the same turkeys?

-Took you a long time to spot that!

Why don't we put a dab of paint on each turkey as we count?

Mr Boggis don't like people painting his turkeys!

Capt Mainwaring, my sister has lots of hoopla rings from the church fete.

-We could put one on each turkey as we counted.

-Good idea, Godfrey.

-Shall I fetch them?

-Yes, run along.

Now, men, you each have 42 rings.

On the command "Move", you're to place a ring over the turkey's head.

If there's ring left over, we know there's a turkey missing. Move.

TURKEYS SQUAWK MADLY

Give us a ring.

I...I say! Don't do that!

Mr Mainwaring, all their heads are down, so we can't put the rings on!

We'll have to wait until the turkeys finish lunch.

Well, all the rings were used up, so it didn't come from there.

-The point is what do we do next?

-Well, sir...

Jones shot it, so rightfully it belongs to him.

No. He was on duty, in one of my uniforms, with one of my rifles, firing one of my bullets.

-Do you mean YOU'RE bagging it, sir?

-No, I don't - not ALL of it.

-Then, I bags it!

-You can't do that - I bagged it first.

But you didn't use the word "bags".

Don't start that public school cheating with me!

-I bags first, that's all.

-But I tell you...

-KNOCK AT DOOR

-Come in!

Yes, what is it?

Capt Mainwaring, sir, we've had a heart-to-heart think.

We're very askanced at what we done and we've come to the conclusion...

that with our ill-gotten gains we should give the OAPs a dinner.

Do you hear that, Wilson? Our chaps came up trumps in the end.

Yes! It seems to me a very good idea.

A capital idea! It'll be a night to remember!

Wilson, I want you to form a Turkey Dinner General Purposes Committee.

And I bags chairman.

Now, to speed up our deliberations, I've made a list of elements needed to make a successful turkey dinner.

Trust him to make it long-winded!

First, the turkey, which Corporal Jones has provided.

Did you fix bayonets and charge(?)

Don't you start! He's a troublemaker, he is, sir.

Why does he have to be here at all?

He'd booked the hall tonight. You should thank him for releasing it.

Shall we have a vote of thanks, your Reverence?

Sit down or we'll be here all night!

Now, when times were different, turkey dinners would include bacon, sausages, vegetables...

roast potatoes, bread sauce, and, last of all, gravy.

Did you save the giblets? Makes lovely gravy - with a pinch of salt.

-Yes, I...I think we saved the...

-'Course I saved the giblets!

A vote of thanks to Mr Jones(!)

-Don't you start!

-All right, all right.

Uncle Arthur...what's giblets?

Oh, Frank. It's the liver, kidneys, gizzard, and that sort of thing.

I don't want gravy made out of that.

Don't be silly, Frank. You've often had it! I wouldn't have if I'd known!

My sister won't boil the giblets. It excites the Pekinese.

That's funny. My cat's like that with kippers.

It makes him jump around and run about...

Can we get on?!

Yes, I quite agree.

Let's not get tied up with giblets at this stage.

Now, we'll select someone - a volunteer preferably - to cook the turkey.

My mum can cook anything, can't she, Uncle Arthur?

-Well, answer the boy!

-Er, yes...of course she can...

Mrs Fox is the finest cook I know. Don't I always say that, Mrs Fox?

Well, you've always been very nice about my dumplings.

Let's vote on it. Those in favour of Mrs Pike cooking the turkey?

Mrs Fox?

Well, a tie. In that case, I shall give the casting vote to Mrs Fox.

That's nice, isn't it(?) You didn't put your hand up!

I...didn't want you to have all that trouble.

That's a nice way to thank you, Mum. She gave you her egg this morning!

Mavis, look...

Wilson, speak through the chair.

Right! Through the chair, I did not know it was Mrs Pike's egg.

Can we get on?!

Don't make it dry. My pensioners don't like it dry.

Turkey can be dry. I second that!

Be quiet!

When we was in the Sudan, we cooked an ostrich, which wasn't dry 'cos we did it in Kitchener's bath.

Next day, the general went to have a bath and said to his batman, "There's a dirty ring in my bath."

"That's not dirt, sir, it's ostrich fat," said the batman. And he got seven days' solitude for rudeness.

-It doesn't always do to tell the truth.

-Yes, all right!

Now, what do we do next?

-Sir, stuff it!

-..What did you say, Frazer?

Stuff it, sir. You'll need to stuff it with parsley and thyme... and maybe chestnuts.

Parsley and thyme it is. Would you do that, Mrs Pike?

-Of course!

-Right, that's decided, then.

My wife makes a very tasty stuffing.

We've just asked Mrs Pike to do the stuffing.

It's not what, but WHO you know!

Bread sauce! Must have bread sauce. It makes turkey go down a treat!

Especially if it's dry. It won't be!

Mrs Fox makes beautiful bread sauce.

Not too much onion. Onions are bad for old people.

They get excited, like the Pekinese!

Don't be rude to Mr Godfrey! He's a very wise man.

Will Corporal Jones be there as a Home Guard or a pensioner?

That's it! I've had enough!

Get your coat off! Come outside!

Come on, Jones. Just ignore him. Come on, sit down.

Yes, all right, sir, all right.

It's no good!

-No, no, Jones.

-Sit down, sit down.

Do be careful.

Now! With the exception of Mr Bluett, we shall all be serving.

I'll supervise, but I shall leave a little early because I'm guest speaker at the Rotary Dinner.

-So, THAT'S why you sent your tickets back.

-Quiet, Frank.

However, we can't organise serving the bird before it's cooked, so let's not go too fast.

Too fast?! You'll still be here when the bird's cooking!

Can we move on to the gravy?

My wife makes good gravy, oh, aye!

Everything else is burnt to a cinder but you can't beat her gravy.

Life has its compensations, I say.

Oh, Lord! ..Can we get on?!

We ARE getting on, Wilson. Mrs Cheeseman can make the gravy.

-Righto, boy!

-Right...

That brings me to the vegetables.

Vegetables pose rather a bigger problem, not only on account of their availability,

but because of the sheer bulk of material involved. We...

APPRECIATIVE MUTTERING

There you are, love. Thank you, Mr Frazer.

That's too much. It won't go round.

I calculate we have only four more to serve, sir.

-Don't splash it on my tails!

-I think you're covered up enough!

There you are, boy. There's too much onion in here.

Aye, and the gravy's too thick!

I remember when I was a wee laddie on the wild, lonely Isle of Barra,

my mother made gravy that was thin and weak.

And my father would belt us regularly every night.

But it made men of us!

Hurry up! The first ones'll finish before the last ones are served!

-Are you eating?

-What if I am?!

-It's for the old people, not you.

-It was only a bit of old skin.

This is Mr Bluett's.

-What's wrong with it?

-He wants it minced.

We haven't got a mincer here. Cut it up for him.

Yes, sir.

They're asking about the parson's nose.

Don't bother me with such details. I've got 32 dinners to serve.

I only asked!

Incidentally, it IS missing, but I've turned a blind eye.

Captain Mainwaring, they're eating as soon as their plates arrive!

It would go cold otherwise.

But before I'd even said, "For what we're about to receive", they'd all received it!

-I'm not having that. He's got all white meat. I haven't got any!

-Oh, we'll soon put that right.

-There you are.

-But it's been on his plate!

Mr Jones! Mrs Garstang wants something else - she doesn't eat turkey.

Then she shouldn't have come to a turkey dinner!

There we are. That's the last one.

My goodness me, sir. You do look awfully smart.

Well, I AM the guest speaker. Just because there's a war on we can't drop our standards.

-Should I say a few words of welcome before I go?

-Well, sir...

..you should let them digest first.

-Oh, no. That would make me late for the Rotary Dinner.

-Oh, I see.

-How are you getting on, Rogers?

-All right.

-Good.

-Mrs Slater, enjoying yourself?

-Oh, yes, thank you.

This is no good. The gravy's got no salt in it. Hey! Some salt, please, waiter.

Mr Mainwaring, Mr McCully says he wants seconds.

Stupid boy! Look what you've done!

I'm not stupid. Whoever put gravy on the side of the plate is stupid.

-This is the only shirt I've got!

-There's some blotting paper in the office. That'll take it off.

I'm sorry I messed up your dicky.

It is NOT a dicky, Pike.

Just you try this, sir.

-Careful, Wilson.

-There you are. Much better. You can hardly see it.

-Oh, there's a mark on your dicky.

-It is not a dicky, he said so.

Oh, well, never mind. I know!

We'll put some enamel paint on it.

That'll stop it from obtruding, won't it?

More gravy wanted. All right, in a minute.

-Now, do it very carefully, Jones.

-There we are. That's right.

That doesn't show, now, does it?

Really, Jones!

-Anyone got any black paint?

-Ridiculous! I can't have paint all over my tails.

I've some at home, sir.

They wouldn't fit someone as round as Mr Mainwaring.

Why don't you pretend you've hurt your arm and wear a sling?

­ Good idea! That'll cover it up.

Try it, sir. It'll make you look very brave during your speech.

Yes, if you wince now and then, you'll get twice the applause.

There, nobody'll ever know!

-You look very brave, Mr Mainwaring.

-Yes, well, I'm really very cross!

However, just like our boys to show resourcefulness in an emergency.

Help me on with my coat, Wilson.

Good luck, sir. You look fine.

­ Good luck, Mr Mainwaring.

-I'm not a stupid boy, am I?

-No, I'm sorry about that, Pike.

Where's that gravy?!

You stupid boy!