This programme contains some scenes which some viewers may find
upsetting, strong language, and some violent scenes
MILITARY DRUMS PLAY
MILITARY BAND PLAYS
CHATTERING
My truck is running low on fuel,
so the rest must be the same.
Permission to bring up the fuel trucks?
Tobruk is in 120 miles.
We need to refuel.
Yes...
..I know.
Right. So you should give the order to bring up.
Oh, please tell me that we brought petrol trucks with us
on this convoy.
As a matter of fact, we didn't.
I've been watching my own fuel gauge moving inexorably toward empty,
and I worked out that what it must be, you see,
is that the convoy has been fuelled with just enough petrol
for a journey of 500km.
Right.
But the journey from Cairo to Tobruk
is 500 miles, old boy.
Indeed.
There are Frenchmen, you see,
in the Transport Department.
Frenchman. Right.
That'll be it.
So, we will not reach Tobruk
and the siege of Tobruk will not be relieved
and the bombs and the shells will continue to fall
and hundreds more men will die?
Yes.
Stirling, I don't care who your father was,
you are supposed to address me as "sir".
Uh-huh.
MUSIC: If You Want Blood (You've Got It) by AC/DC
Piss off.
MUSIC CONTINUES
Agh!
BON SCOTT OF AC/DC SINGS: # It's criminal!
# There ought to be a law
# Criminal!
# There ought to be a whole lot more
# You get nothin' for nothin'
# Tell me who can you trust
# We got what you want
# And you got the lust
# If you want blood
# You got it!
# If you want blood
# You got it!
# Ah-ooh!
# O positive!
ANGUS YOUNG OF AC/DC PLAYS GUITAR SOLO
# Aye-ah!
WAVES CRASHING
GUITAR SOLO CONTINUES
# Whoa!
CAR HORN BEEPS
There will be another fuck-up by GHQ tomorrow!
MUSIC CONTINUES
# Blood on the rocks!
# Blood on the streets!
# Blood in the sky!
# Blood on the sheets!
# If you want blood... #
GUITAR FADES OUTS BELL DINGS
Ah, yes.
Whisky! BANGS BAR
I won!
I won, I won, on a horse called Smokey.
CHUCKLES
Girls didn't make it tonight because of the rain.
Ah.
Ah, invited to feel regret,
he felt no regret.
I like you.
You know why?
Because if I tell you a joke, you pretend that it's funny.
So here goes, "Why did the chicken not reach the end of the road?"
Because...
..it was a chicken who had volunteered for the Commandos,
the British Commando Regiment.
So the order came down from GHQ
for the chicken to set off down the road.
The fucking road. CHUCKLES
And so the chicken packed up his equipment,
wanked off his reckless urges, prayed to God, got in his vehicle,
set off down the road, and then they're ahead,
right ahead,
at exactly 120 miles...
..outside of Tobruk
was the punch line of this very, very funny joke.
What's punch line?
Oh, it's a British military secret.
CHUCKLES
So we are stood down...
..again.
So the chicken stays in Cairo, it goes to the races,
it rains and the girls didn't make it.
And you know something?
You hate this place.
I hate this peace.
FOOTSTEPS APPROACH
War, my friend...
..is where you find it.
AUSTRALIAN VOICE: A bottle and two glasses.
Ah, pog.
SPITS
Eh, pog,
any of you pogs ever leave fucking Cairo?
Any of you Brits even seen an Italian yet?
Ah, Australians.
I love Australia.
Wildlife and fauna
designed by a lunatic.
Fuck you.
FAINT RECITING OF POETRY
# Let me mind the house of dust Where my sojourn shall be long
# In the nation that is not Nothing stands that stood before;
# There revenges are forgot And the hater hates no more;
# And naked to the hangman's noose The morning clocks will ring. #
CLATTERING
TENSE MUSIC PLAYS
KEYS JANGLE
DOOR UNLOCKS
How's your colleague?
I hope I did no permanent damage.
Irish fucker.
Fucker first and foremost,
Irish is a contributing factor, perhaps.
But in other times I am a friend to the friendless.
Your colleague was being unpleasant to a smaller man,
it got my goat.
Well, we are about to be unpleasant to you.
You won't be using military policeman as a punchbag any more.
You're a mental case.
No-one will be surprised to find you dangling in the morning.
# And beyond the gallows clack. #
Well, if you want me to walk on air,
it means you're going to have to find naked neck first.
Cos I'm used to uneven battles, boys.
So...
..begin your search.
Desert storms,
dysentery,
sand in your arse,
sand in your eyes,
sand in your lungs,
sand in your kidneys,
sand in your foreskin,
all will be forgotten.
BOMB DROPPING SPEECH DROWNED OUT
EXPLOSION Take it.
Now,
let's take a drink of rum. BOMB DROPPING
EXPLOSION SCREAMS
Drink. Do not think.
Do not be yourself tonight.
Remember this...
When we are among them,
your mother is not watching.
Let's move.
EXPLOSION
CHATTERING IN DISTANCE
10 seconds...
..then mad...
..wild.
You even seen action?
Repeatedly stood down, I'm afraid.
Well, we've seen action.
Oh, I'm sensing resentment.
You fucking asshole.
And I understand it.
When one has faced danger,
oh, it takes a long time to lose the animal rage.
He talks like a fucking typewriter.
The rain always does this to people. Why don't you leave him alone, huh?
Yeah?
We lost two good men.
Theft.
Well, I'm afraid theft is something I cannot tolerate.
But...
..if we are going to engage,
first, let me give you a small warning.
I am a particular kind of soldier,
a commander. I trained with other men like myself,
some live only to fight and kill the enemy,
others are careless of uniforms
and will fight anyone at all.
There are mercifully few of us,
but in war, we are allowed to be the beasts that we are.
We are taught to kill silently,
and it becomes instinctive,
almost like swallowing.
And the cursed thing is, once learned,
you can't unlearn it.
Do you understand?
You shake hands with a man and you can't help
but glance at his throat.
GASPS
Every part of his body is an invitation to be eagerly accepted
as a dog accepts a bone.
Eyes are for thumbs to push...
..into the brain.
Mouths can be torn open,
necks are a gift.
GROANS
God's ultimate mistake.
SCREAMS Ah-oh!
Spoons, tea towels,
cups of tea... They are all weapons.
Everything you touch...
..is a weapon. You are a weapon.
SCREAMS
If our gentlemen generals have the sense to unleash us...
..can you even imagine?
EXPLOSION
Ordinary men...
..when they encounter us, are...
WHIMPERS
..understandably reluctant to make our acquaintance,
but if you really do insist.
GRUNTS
KNIFE SLICES
SCREAMS
GROANS
Not my stop, boys.
Not my fucking stop.
Not today.
CHUCKLES
Well...
We're just here for the girls.
My winnings.
Buy yourselves a drink,
raise a toast...
..to fallen comrades.
BARMAN CHUCKLES
Instead of spending a fucking year in Scotland climbing mountains,
sleeping in ditches and strangling cattle,
I should have just memorised that speech,
because it works every time.
SIGHS
Get me a whisky, old boy.
MUSIC: It's a Hap-Hap-Happy Day by Arthur Askey
To whisky.
# It's a hap-hap happy day
WRETCHES
# Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay
# For you and me, for us and we
# All the clouds have rolled away
# It's a hap-hap happy day
# Toodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-oodle-ay
# The sun shines bright and the world's all right
# It's a hap-hap happy day
# Four and twenty sunbeams
# Are dancing round my face
# Four score and twenty more are dancing every place
# It's a hap-hap happy day
# Toodle-oodle-oodle oodle-oodle-ay... #
Good morning, Sir.
# You can't go wrong if you sing the song
# It's a hap-hap happy day... #
Sir.
# Let's celebrate, let's get that holiday spirit... #
Sir. Morning, Sir.
Someone fix that fucking thing.
Sir.
Oh!
# Shout it out so everybody can hear it... #
Doesn't this fucking squeaking drive you insane?
# It's a hap-hap happy day. #
Fix the fucking thing.
Sir. Morning, Sir.
# All the clouds have rolled away
# It's a hap-happy day... #
SHOUTING OUTSIDE
SOLDIERS: One, two, three, hut!
# And the world all right
# It's hap-hap happy day
# Four and twenty sunbeams... #
Morning, Sir.
MUSIC STOPS
KNOCK AT DOOR
DOOR OPENS
SIGHS
There's a bit of a thing.
Drinks, etc. Nibbles and whatnot, tonight...
..at the, eh...
At the what?
At the embassy.
A sort of farewell thing for someone,
some old boy going home.
A chance for everyone to...
A chance for everyone to formulate a plan
for our next assault on Tobruk?
What?
A chance for everyone to say goodbye and good luck to him,
whoever he is,
and you'll be there, Stirling.
Tobruk is under 24 hour bombardment.
Second attempt to relieve Tobruk is being discussed.
Actually, it'll be a third attempt.
Indeed.
SQUEAKING
The fans don't work.
I can't fucking salute any more.
The map on the wall keeps being redrawn...
..and men are dying.
Stirling, what would it take to make you call me sir?
It would take respect.
Stirling, you are not the soldier your father was,
and you never will be.
You're the kind of drunken, insubordinate malcontent
he would have despised. You will come to the party.
You will arrive sober and on time.
Or you, my friend, will be on a charge.
Our Father...
..who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.
Thy kingdom come, thy will be done
on Earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses,
as we forgive those who trespass against us.
And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory,
for ever and ever. Amen.
OFFICER CALLS ORDERS
Last night, we dispatched 50 enemy soldiers
and destroyed one key gun emplacement.
We had only one casualty.
Matthews died in the night.
WHIMPER
Did you sleep well?
I was exhausted with the work we did, sir, but...
..satisfied with our achievement.
Slept on my boots.
I always sleep well, sir.
We have spent 112 days defending this place...
..amidst the rats and the scorpions and the flies.
We must continue to show fortitude.
NEARBY EXPLOSION
RAGGED BREATHING
Command are sending another convoy to relieve us.
Our beloved friends at GHQ might this time remember
to fill the armoured cars with enough petrol in the tanks
to reach the destination.
They can be quite forgetful.
RAGGED BREATHING
In the meantime, tonight, I will be taking a flight to Cairo
on urgent business.
If THQ can't relieve us, I'm formulating a plan
that might just get us out of this mess.
Move out the way!
Move!
Move those fucking camels!
Get out the way!
GUNFIRE RATTLES
SHOUTING
Sir. Permission to steal donated food rations from the Australians?
Permission granted.
So what is it we're looking for, sir?
I got a message from one of the dockworkers
who I bribed with hashish.
I asked him...
..to keep an eye out
in the swirling chaos of equipment and supplies for parachutes.
And lo...
..a set of parachutes have appeared.
And...who do they belong to, sir?
EXPLOSION, SHOUTING
This is the British Army.
No-one owns anything. No-one knows anything.
Nothing is certain. Nothing is as it seems.
And whatever the fuck you have in your hands belongs to you.
And what use do you have for parachutes, sir?
I'm going to jump out of aeroplanes with them.
And do you know parachutes, sir? Do you...?
"Do you know parachutes?"
I know you strap them to your back, you jump...
..the thing becomes enormous.
And you land safe.
Catch the damn thing before it blows into the sea, Almonds.
Put it back in.
How, sir? How the hell should I know?
I think it's meant to be a very precise procedure.
Then be precise.
Have them all loaded onto a truck and sent to the airstrip
for tonight's flight.
EXPLOSION
Oh, and you will be on that flight as well, Sergeant.
Along with Riley.
I've decided you are the right kind of men.
The right kind of men for what?
In a world where there are no rules, no order,
no organised plan,
certain men are identified by war itself as its natural executors.
Those natural executors take matters into their own hands.
I've decided to form a parachute regiment.
You've decided?
Our generals still think we are fighting the First World War.
They dither and debate every order, and all this
while the Nazis, whose conviction
cuts through us like fucking steel blades...
EXPLOSION
We are chased across the fucking desert.
Comedy.
Except for the viciousness of their ideology.
SHOUTED ORDERS
Do you know what they're doing to the children in Berlin?
The devil sent me those tins of beef.
God sent me those parachutes.
I'm going to give it a whirl.
I am bringing together men of a particular calibre,
and you are amongst them.
The others are all insane, in jail, or like me, in despair.
Let's go and win the fucking war.
# It's grand to know the thumbs are up in England
# A sign that shows that everything's OK
# The boys have brought a word back home to England
# For over there they always used to say
# Put your thumbs up and say it's tiggerty boo
# Cos tiggerty boo means everything will be fine
# You'll always wear a smile if you'll only say
# It's tiggerty boo, tiggerty boo Tiggerty boo today
# Put your thumbs up and say it's tiggerty boo... #
MUSIC SLOWS AND DISTORTS
SIGHS
Hangover?
Justified by inner rage.
What do you need?
A medical reason not to attend a fucking cocktail party.
And while you're at it, get me out of drill for a few days.
You can't rationalise drill because it is meant to make you accept
that the meaningless is important.
Last night there was an officer looking for you.
He wanted to know if the dysentery report of two weeks ago was genuine.
They think you are malingering.
It's not me that's fucking malingering. It's GHQ.
Layer upon layer of fossilised shit.
A freemasonry of mediocrity.
Yeah, they're onto you.
Court martial.
Invented illnesses.
Are you lying?
Of course.
THEY LAUGH
Oh...so what did he actually ask you about?
I've been in the dark, so it's all a bit unclear.
He had a message from a Lieutenant Jack Lewes in Tobruk.
Jock Lewes.
Whatever. My God, you are through the roof.
Whisky. Bang, bang, bang, one after the other.
Memories of Scotland.
You know how a bear in a cage
sort of stands there and sways from side to side?
HISSING HE LAUGHS
THEY LAUGH
So what did Jock Lewes say?
HIGH-PITCHED: Ah, here.
Go to the Empire Club tonight, meet Paddy Mayne,
and bring him to the Tipperary Club
for a reunion of the Three Musketeers.
What the fuck does that say?
Just says "parachutes".
The dead arose and appeared to many.
Welcome home.
No.
Were you arrested?
Detained.
Were you identified?
No. I said my name was Mr Hyde, and I had no papers.
He gave me a ten-shilling fine for not having identification.
They were going to hang me, as a matter of fact.
For having no ID?
No, for seeking justice.
What is this soup?
It's the gazelle you shot.
Oh, it's very nice.
Thank you.
Now..
..eventually, of course...
..you are going to get yourself hung.
They say it is an exquisite death.
Though who the people are that know that is unrecorded.
You were supposed to be in hospital.
Why did you leave?
Well, I don't so much have malaria any more
as much as share a bed with it.
My only symptom now is soaking the sheets every night.
I sweat so much, I'm embarrassed to have the nurses
come wring them out.
So I went and sweated in a nightclub instead.
And somebody got my goat.
There's no more to it than that.
Mm.
Last night, someone was here with a message
from a Lieutenant Jock Lewes in Tobruk.
Something about parachutes.
You're due at the Empire tonight to meet a fella called Stirling.
To reunite the Three Musketeers.
BAND PLAYS JAZZ MUSIC
Help you tonight, sir? Not tonight, dear.
No, no, no, no.
I'm afraid not.
I don't know what a red flower on the table signifies
in the language of Cairo,
but I'm not looking for a brief accord,
if that's what you're thinking.
"A brief accord"?
You are a poet.
As a matter of fact, I am.
And I'm a journalist.
"I'm a journalist," said the spy.
Of course I am a spy.
In war, we must all repurpose
our professional talents. Sorry, old chap.
Fuck!
And what is your purpose?
I am an intelligence officer who reports directly to
the free French government in exile, General de Gaulle.
From his bar stool in a pub in Dean Street.
How are you enjoying Cairo, Paddy Mayne?
How do you know my name?
Lieutenant Mayne, your victory over the Vichy French at the Litani River
was the first piece of good news for the French who oppose Hitler
in a long time.
I would like you to give me an assessment of the morale
of pro-Nazi French soldiers that you came into contact with
so that I can file a report to the general.
All the pro-Nazi French soldiers
I personally came into contact with are dead.
So...
..their morale is pretty poor, I would say.
My father was a brigadier.
He taught me to ride, shoot,
and kill.
Kill with cutlery if necessary.
Well, if you're in need of cutlery, I'd go and find another table.
I'm here to attend a meeting.
Very well. Apologies. Ah, no, fuck it, no.
Do you know what? I'll go.
Didn't want to be here anyway.
I only came to politely say no.
Would you wait for him and pass on a message from me?
Wait for who? Just tell him
Paddy Mayne says no because he has decided to go to Burma
to fight the Japanese instead.
It'll be a very tall man who will be drunk or will get drunk.
And when you give him my message, he might get angry,
so you should leave.
Just tell him Paddy Mayne says no.
All right?
JAZZ MUSIC CONTINUES
MUSIC STOPS
APPLAUSE AND CHEERING
I would like to introduce to you Elena Carnet.
APPLAUSE
MUSIC STARTS
GASPS I'm sorry, this table is booked.
You crept up on me.
You'll have to go, I'm afraid.
I have a message for you.
Ooh. A message from who?
Paddy Mayne.
He was here, but he said he has decided he's going to Burma
to fight the Japanese.
The...
Right.
He said you would be angry.
No, I'm not.
Was he sober?
I think so.
But he was quite odd. Yes, he is.
Drink, sir? Whisky.
Yes, sir.
He was right.
You are tall.
Who the fuck are you?
I'm the deputy head of French military intelligence in Cairo.
Oh, so you're the head of French military intelligence in Cairo?
Because I know your boss...
..and he's always drunk.
Are you new?
To Cairo, yes.
In every other way, I'm not new.
Mmm.
Listen, in other times...
..I would love to stay and make conversation, but right now beauty
is not a currency I value.
Oh, apologies.
That sounded like an attempt to be charming, didn't it?
It wasn't meant to be.
It wasn't taken as charming at all.
Not even remotely.
Sometimes the French and the British misunderstand each other.
It's like the difference between kilometres and miles.
The result can be...unfortunate.
You heard about that.
You will learn that I tend to hear about everything.
Whisky.
I need a car. Where to, sir? Tipperary fucking Tea Club.
Lieutenant Stirling.
For the avoidance of doubt,
I share your impatience with the conduct of the war,
and I intend to do something about it.
MUSIC SWELLS
APPLAUSE
APPLAUSE AND CHEERING
Cheers, lads.
SINGS TO HIMSELF
Well?
Did you go and meet him?
I did.
There were red flowers and French spies.
And?
What did you tell him?
I didn't tell him anything.
I left him a message to say I'm going to the Far East.
You are?
So whatever it is he and that mad martinet Lewes,
whatever it is they're planning,
they can do it without me.
Who are they, anyway?
Just men I trained with.
Stirling, you could dismiss as a drinker.
Gambler.
One of those toffs, you know, who climbed through the ranks
on the branches of their family tree.
Lewes, you could say, is a bully with a bitter little mind.
You could dismiss him, too.
But you don't dismiss them.
No.
No, because when the moment comes, they are not themselves.
None of the above is who they are. They are...
They are dead man...
..just awaiting confirmation.
LAUGHS Like me.
But as I say, I'm going to the Far East.
Ship me somewhere east of Suez,
where the best is like the worst.
The Far Eastern theatre will be a grand show
when it starts, you know.
Here, do you want to come as well?
I'm putting together a unit. I can request you if you want.
Yeah.
Fuck it.
Why not?
Thank you very much.
Ah.
Ah!
Where's Mayne? You were supposed to bring him.
Mayne says he's going to Burma to fight the Japanese.
They're not at war with Japan yet.
No, but if Paddy's going, we will be quite soon.
There's tea. Oh, enjoy it, old man.
It's for you.
No, it's not.
It's not my tea.
I have an idea for you.
A map!
Oh, goodness, this must be serious.
Yes, it's actually a very large map, which is a nuisance.
Excuse me, gentlemen.
I'd like to use this table for a demonstration.
How long will you be? It's a tournament.
We're going to be here all night.
And if you're going to stand there staring,
we will charge you admission.
THEY LAUGH
Yes. I'm afraid I have a rendezvous at the Kit-Kat Club later
and I don't have all night, gentlemen.
I've just got back from a deep desert patrol
and I am mad as fuck.
What's he doing?
Grenade!
Out! Quickly!
SHOUTING
Out of the way!
My men are bored. They make these little novelties
to brighten their day.
This one's excellent if you can't get a seat on a train.
You haven't changed, then, Stirling.
No. You haven't grown up or anything.
I'm still about 12.
Stink bombs and bike sheds.
Set.
Except now the stink is dead bodies.
Oh, if that's what you're proposing, yes.
You drew this yourself?
GHQ maps are inaccurate and outdated.
That's because the Germans keep advancing while we fold our arms
and say, "Not ideal, unattractive, gloomy."
Do you know any general that doesn't speak like a nursery nurse?
The Germans have advanced 800 miles in six weeks.
Everywhere it's Rommel this and Rommel that.
But in my opinion, he's made a mistake.
He's moved too fast.
Look at this supply line.
Hmm. It's around 300 miles too long.
So far, we have been attacking the German convoys from the sea.
That is why we are always expected.
Right. And you have a better idea?
Yes.
A doctor stoned on laughing gas said something about parachutes.
Instead of attacking from the sea,
we should be attacking
from the sea of sand.
We parachute units of selected men into the interior
and then attack Rommel's supply line from the desert.
A disciplined group of men. Ah, discipline.
You see, I myself would consult quickly with Johnnie Walker
before each engagement.
How would that be with your idea of discipline?
Is that important to you? It's an indicative example.
I once had this idea in a sweaty dream one night
that all regimental discipline is horseshit.
Each man should be a chess piece that can move in any direction.
His idiosyncrasies are his own business.
The most important thing is courage.
The most important thing is wit, in every sense of that word.
Anything expected fails. Never be where you are meant to be.
Actually, the first thing we would need to do is prove
that the principle of a parachute drop is sound.
No-one has ever parachuted in the desert before.
Whatever.
When a vulture spreads its wings out there, it goes up, not down.
Hmm.
So someone would need to try it.
Yes.
Just us.
You and I.
I was hoping Mayne would join us, but we can do it without him.
We prove it can be done,
and we prove to each other that we are committed.
No-one to stand us down.
What should we call ourselves?
So you're in?
Stirling. Are you in?
You steal the parachutes.
I will steal an aeroplane.
There's just no way. There is no...
Ah, Lieutenant. This man claims
he has authority to commandeer my plane.
At ease. He has permission.
I've already explained this is war work
and we have a licence to behave badly.
I'm a fucking postman, you know.
I deliver military mail.
I want to know what's going on.
I want to know who you are and the name of your unit.
Ooh, did you think of a name? No, not yet.
If you're even considering using my plane to make a parachute drop,
you're not going anywhere in this weather, you know.
Forecast has this blowing over in one hour.
No-one parachutes in the desert.
We know.
And your parachutes have static lines. They have what?
They have static lines.
Look - these lines have to be clipped to a steel cable
attached fore and aft.
My plane is a De Havilland.
It doesn't have a cable. Mmm.
Well, we'll use the seats.
Yes, we'll tie the parachute cables to the seats.
The legs of the passenger seat.
How much actual parachute training have you had?
We spent three weeks jumping from scaffolding
and moving vehicles. And rolling forwards and sideways.
And the door opens to the wind?
Almonds, take the door off. Yes, sir.
But by the time this weather blows over, it will be dark.
So how will you find your way back if it's dark?
..Lewes?
The stars. The stars. Yes.
Sir, with this storm and the failing light, why don't we think again?
Lewes, it sounds like your sergeant is suggesting that we stand down.
We do not fucking stand down any more.
That should be the name of our unit.
The men who refused to stand down.
I believe, on the grounds of hazard, I could refuse to take you.
If you don't want to fly...
..I flew a crop for him once.
I'll fly that thing myself.
Good God, he's American.
Even so, he's OK.
You're all fucking mad.
At last! He gets it.
I need a piss.
Chop-chop.
Yes, sir.
YELLS
WIND GUSTS, CAMEL GRUNTS
MUSIC: Live Wire by AC/DC
Good luck, sir.
Ah! Here, Stirling.
# Well, if you're looking for trouble
# I'm the man to see
# If you're looking for satisfaction
# I'm satisfaction guaranteed
# I'm as cool as a body on ice
# Hotter than the rolling dice
# Send you to heaven Take you to hell
# I ain't foolin' Can't you tell? #
Now head back to the airstrip!
# I'm a live wire
# Going to set this town on fire! #
60 seconds until we go.
# And if you need some lovin'
# And if you need some man... #
What do you think about just before?
I think about the voice inside of my head that says, "So what?"
"So fucking what?"
# You've got the thirst and I've got the booze
# Give you an inch Take you a mile
# I'm going to make you fry
# I'm a live wire
# Live wire
# I'm a live wire
# Live wire
# I'm a live wire
# Live wire
# Holy smoke and sweet desire
# Like a hot rod, baby!
# Oh, stick this in your fuse box! #
GASPS
YELLS
WIND HOWLS
YELLS
THUMP
RAGGED BREATHING
GROANS
Did you have a fall, sir?
Yes, Father, I did.
Am I dead? Not quite.
In between, I think.
Remember when you said you could climb the old oak tree
with one arm tied behind your back?
You always imagined you could do things you couldn't do -
climb higher than your natural limit.
One would have hoped you might have grown out of it by now.
GRUNTS
I can't...
I can't move my legs, Dad.
I can't feel my legs.
GASPS
I can't see anything below my waist.
Many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death.
GROANS
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die.
No, no, no.
It was always your favourite poem.
Always in the back of your mind.
Half in love with easeful Death.
I have things to do.
I will not be pushed.
I will not...
..so I will not be stood down.
Not even by God.
YELLS: You hear me, God?
You hear me, Father?
I will win this fucking war.
I will not be stood down.
BREATHES RAGGEDLY
MUSIC: A Hard Road by Black Sabbath
# Old men crying Young men dying
# World still turns as Father Time looks on
# On and on
# Children playing, dreamers praying
# Laughter turns to tear as love has gone
# Has it gone?
# Oh, it's a hard road
# Oh, it's a hard road. #