- Gripweed: Well, our officer calls me up and he says to me, he says, "Musketeer Gripweed..." He was a tall chap, some would call him weedy. I did. He said to me, and bear in mind that we were some few hundred miles behind enemy lines. He said, "green, green, green," so I did.
- Gripweed: I fought for three reasons. I can't remember what they were. The first reason gets you in, and the reason when you are in is staying alive. I won't know the reason they find afterwards, but it will be a very good one for why it was fought. I'm sure I'll be glad.
- Grapple: Never underrate the wily Pathan. What we're going on to now is the wily Pathan, followed the use of and handling of anti-gas carpet. The Pathan lives in India. India is a hot, strange country. It's full of wily Pathans and they're up to wily things, which is why I always wear spurs, even in cold weather. Now, my advice to you is always to keep your rifle strapped to a suitable portion of your body - your leg is good. Otherwise, you'll find the wily Pathan will strip himself mother-naked, grease himself all over - slippery as an eel - make off with your rifle, which is a crime. Any questions so far, or can we take gas?
- Goodbody: Sir, has the pathan gone over to Hitler, sir?
- Grapple: Grammar school boy?
- Goodbody: Sir.
- Grapple: No, he has not. Too wily for that, the wily Pathan, you'll find.
- Goodbody: Then shall we be fighting him in this war, sir?
- Grapple: Of course we will, boy! The British Army has always fought the wily Pathan. Stripped mother-naked, under the tent brailings like a snake, he is.
- Goodbody: Why?
- Grapple: [increasingly annoyed] Why, what? Why, what? We want to get on to gas. May save your life one day, gas.
- Goodbody: Er, why has the British Army always fought the wily Pathan, sir?
- Grapple: [very incensed] Because he's just like you are, a damn wily troublemaker! What's your name in full? How did you get into an O.C.T.U. without knowing your history?
- [sigh]
- Grapple: God help your men. They'll be torn apart by the wily Pathan.
- Goodbody: [talking aloud to himself] I can't, I fear, I can't march properly on my own, as an officer, in the public eye.
- Juniper: [sitting in back of a truck, smoking, holding a broom] Isn't that sickening when that happens to a chap? Couldn't your drill instructor do something about it? Like a quick jab up the crotch with a broom bass?
- [holds up broom]
- Juniper: [enters scene dressed as a clown, pulling a hobby horse, as if acting a scene] Will you take my horse, sir?
- Transom: [to Goodbody] Take no large notice, sir. He is working what is known as ticket, sir. Keeps the lads amused.
- [Clapper, Drouge, and Spool join Juniper, dressed normally]
- Transom: Pick those bits up, Gripweed!
- [joining the scene]
- Transom: Where's your tin hat gone, Juniper?
- Juniper: Losing by neglect, sir!
- Transom: If I catch you without your tin hat in a battle zone again, I'll ram it down your throat!
- Clapper: Losing by neglect, one mess tin.
- Juniper: One mess tin!
- Transom: Did you have your name on it?
- [aside, to Goodbody]
- Transom: Take no notice, sir.
- Juniper: Scratched on!
- Goodbody: Pull these...
- Clapper: Scratched on?
- Goodbody: ...men together!
- Juniper: Scored it!
- Transom: How dare you disfigure government property? Six days royal warrant. March him off, Musket Major. Two men!
- [exeunt Juniper, Clapper, Drogue, and Spool]
- Transom: [to Goodbody] Ought to camouflage up, sir, or go - or go get the scrim up, sir, if you're stopping. Us in our, uh, vests here, sir. Exposed to all manner of nasty -
- Goodbody: [interrupting, angry but calm] I'm going to explode, but I won't. I think the roller, don't you?
- [walks to background]
- Juniper: [re-enters scene still dressed as a clown, Drogue, Spool, Gripweed, and Clapper in tow] Bayonet!
- Transom: Bayonet?
- Spool: Where's your bayonet?
- Juniper: Must have left it sticking in the enemy, sir!
- Spool: Spur!
- Juniper: Where?
- Transom: Where's your spur?
- Juniper: Must have left it sticking in the horse, sir!
- Goodbody: [calls out] Two men!
- [exeunt players]
- Goodbody: [walks back to Transom and ex-Dooley, points his finger at ex-Dooley, shouting] There! On the end of my finger!
- Gripweed: [re-enter players] Finger!
- Juniper: Finger?
- Gripweed: Musketeer Juniper, where's your finger?
- Juniper: Must have left it sticking up the Khyber Pass, sir!
- Transom: Self-inflicted injury! March him off, Musket Major! Two - wait for it!
- [pause, players posed as if frozen while running]
- Transom: Two men!
- [exeunt players]