more sausage-sideness
apols in advance too, but the scene was really set though...
Scene 4: In The Trench
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[As he emerges from the dugout BlackAdder sighs and prepares to light his pipe.
Squadron Commander Lord Flasheart jumps down from his crashed plane.]
Flasheart Ha! Eat knuckle, Fritz!
[Flasheart knocks BA to the ground with his pistol, then puts a foot on
BA's chest.]
Flasheart Aha! How disgusting. A Boche on the sole of my boot. I shall have to find a patch of grass to wipe it on. Probably get shunned in the Officers' Mess. Sorry about the pong you fellows, trod in a Boche and can't get rid of the whiff.
[BA rises.]
BA - Do you think we could dispense with the hilarious doggy-do
metaphor for a moment? I'm not a Boche. This is a British trench.
[Flasheart puts his pistol away.]
Flasheart - Is it? Oh, that's a piece of luck. Thought I'd landed
sausage-side! Ha!
[Flasheart picks up the receiver of a field-telephone lying by the dugout entrance.]
Flasheart - Mind if I use your phone? If word gets out that I'm
missing, five hundred girls will kill themselves. I wouldn't want them on my conscience, not when they ought to be on
my face! Huh!
[Flasheart kicks the phone into action.]
Flasheart - Hi, Flasheart here. Yeah, cancel the state funeral, tell
the King to stop blubbing. Flash is not dead. I simply ran out of juice! Yeah, and before all the girls start saying "Oh, what's the point of living anymore", I'm talking about petrol! Woof, woof!
Yeah, I dumped the kite on the proles, so send a car. Er, General Melchett's driver should do. She hangs around with
the big nobs, so she'll be used to a fellow like me! Woof, woof!