Carry On ... Follow That Camel

Another one like that

and we've won. My word,

this is a great event

for you, my dear.

Watching two of your

hottest suitors

making a last wicket

stand together.

Bo and Humphrey do

everything together.

Yes.

Howzat?

He's out.

- Bad luck, sir.

- Thank you, Simpson.

We only had four more

runs to get, sir.

Well, it's all in

the game, Simpson.

Hard luck, Humph, old man.

Take your hands off me, you cad.

What's up, old man?

You know damn well what's up.

You deliberately tripped me.

- Humphrey, what are you saying?

- You tripped me.

Now, just a minute, gentlemen.

This is an extremely grave charge

you're making, Captain Bagshaw.

Mr West, is there any truth in it?

No, of course not.

Humphrey's my friend.

Why would I want to

do a thing like that?

Then you're saying Captain

Bagshaw is a liar.

Well, no, I don't

mean that, but... he

must have tripped

over his bootlace.

My bootlace? The lace on

my elastic-sided boots?

Oh, Bo, how could you do

such a despicable thing?

Mr West, you are no longer

welcome in my house,

nor as a member of

my cricket team.

Come, Jane.

I've lost her, Simpson.

This letter has just

arrived for you, milady.

Thank you, Nightingale. Excuse me.

What is it, my beloved?

It's Bo. It's Mr West, he's...

My dearest Jane, by the time

you receive this letter,

I shall have left this

country for good.

The only hope I have

of forgetting the

terrible things that have happened

is to join the French

Foreign Legion.

Oh, no.

Excuse me.

Oh, never mind, my dear. His life

wouldn't have been

worth living here.

No other cricket club

would have accepted him.

Oh.

What the...?

Well, cut him down,

someone. Cut him down.

He's dripping all

over my best carpet.

Excuse me, milady.

Oh, Humphrey. What

made you do it? Why?

I...

lied.

Bo... Bo didn't trip me.

I... fell...

on purpose.

Oh, Bo.

Dearest Bo, what

have we done to you?

- Whoa, Cleo.

- Is this it, Simpson?

Yes, sir. Sidi-Bel-Abbès.

- Well, get me down, Simpson.

- Certainly, sir.

Hey, you. Arab fellow.

Camel up. Obo.

Argh. Ooh.

My foot...

Let go of the thing.

Damn it, I'll never

get used to that.

I expected the back

end to go down first.

Oh.

Oh, well, never mind that.

Find out where one

joins up around here.

Yes, sir.

Let's try that café over there.

Very well, sir.

Anyone home?

Good morning, madam. My name

is Bertram Oliphant West.

Well, I'm sorry, but

what can I do about it?

My name is Zigzig. And what

can you do about that?

No, no, you misunderstand

me, madam.

I merely wish to ask where one

goes to join the Foreign Legion.

Ah, just one moment.

- I go ask the sergeant.

- Sergeant?

Sergeant Nocker. He is important

man in Legion. He know everything.

Is he here?

Oh, yes.

Often.

Perhaps it's the married

quarters, Simpson.

Ah.

Hello, sugar date.

Not now, baby. I gotta

get some sleep.

Hey, hey, hey.

What is this strange

fascination I have over them?

Why can't they let me

alone but for a moment?

Heart of my heart, I

only want to talk.

You go right ahead and

talk, sugar date.

You talk while I get some sleep.

No, no, no, don't go to sleep yet.

There are two men here who

are wanting to join you.

Nothing doing. Let them

find their own bed.

No, no. To join you in the Legion.

Simple. Let them report

to headquarters.

It's just the other side of town.

Ok. I tell them.

And then come back.

But you just say

you want to sleep.

Can I help it if my tongue

don't know how my mind works?

♪ Fanfare ♪

Legion. Legion, present arms.

What's this?

Capitaine Le Pice.

Yes. Yes.

- Hello. Did anybody call?

- Capitaine Le Pice.

- Kommandant Burger.

- Look.

Spring flowers.

- Spring flowers?

- Early bloomers.

This is no joke.

Pull those bloomers down.

Pull them down.

Herr Kommandant, not so loud.

Anyone listening outside the fort

will wonder what's going on.

I don't care about those

pigs. Pull them down.

I want to get to the

bottom of this.

Capitaine Le Pice,

the man who is responsible

for this will be

buried in the sand up

to here, head-first.

Find out who he is.

- But how?

- How? Use your brains.

Search the lockers. Find out which

one wears underwear like this.

Oh, Herr Kommandant,

no legionnaire

would wear anything like these.

How do you know? We get

all sorts in the Legion.

And it's our custom

not to ask questions.

- Perhaps it's time we started.

- Oh, Herr Kommandant. Look.

There is a message

written on the back.

Well, it can't be a

message from the front.

What is...? "Death to

all Legion infidels.

Your time is nigh. The

flaming sword is spoken."

What is that? What flaming sword?

Herr Kommandant, it

is an emblem of the

leader of the Riffs,

Sheikh Abdul Abulbul.

They have got my message.

Let us give them a taste

of what is soon to come.

It's a disgrace.

I intend to get to

the bottom of...

Attack. Attack.

See how the mice run.

But the time is not yet.

- We will go.

- Effendi, look what comes.

Ah, this appears to

be the place, sir.

Oh, well, help me down,

will you, Simpson?

Ho. Camel, Bo-Bo.

Ha-ha. Ha-ha. I've got it.

Oooh. Oh.

Oh, sir. Keep still, sir.

It has been truly said.

The mind of the white infidel

is like the action

of the cleanser.

Clean round the bend.

This way, sir.

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