Kajaki Page #2

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- Out of the west, Private Smith.

Er, yeah.

OK, I'm, er...

I'm dead. I'm a man.

I'm British. I've got a gay beard.

We think.

We think. I, er, killed a king

and I'm not Guy Fawkes.

Who didn't kill anyone.

For f***'s sake, Stu mate.

- F***er!

It's like watching a retard

trying to f*** a doorknob.

I thought you knew your f***ing history.

Just f***ing guess, will you,

before I slit my f***ing wrists.

Am I anything to do with King Arthur?

- No.

You got three guesses and then

it's five bines for mush.

This is a f***ing stitch-up.

- Ah, hey, rules is rules. Right, Stu?

When you're wounded and

left on Afghanistan's plains

and the women come out

to cut up what remains

just roll to your rifle

and blow out your brains...?

...and go to your God like a soldier.

For f***'s sake.

What you doing putting

this sh*t in your f***ing head?

Well, it's a bit of perspective, innit?

Perspective on what?

What a dour-faced bastard

Rudyard Kipling was?

You f***ing pricks.

GENERAL CHEERS:

It's Quasimodo and Wurzel Gummidge.

It's alright...

- What happened, Ken?

...you can get your own

f***ing sh*t tomorrow, OK?

Did you get the three-fifty chargers?

Uh, negative.

IMITATING PEARSON

For f***'s sake.

F*** off the two of youse.

- Prosser's got another unit.

Alright cock smokers?

- Yeah.

Here, how come it's always you

that gets the crap jobs then, Ken?

Ah, f*** off.

Crap hat, crap job.

Eh, you can f*** off too, Cromwell.

Faz.

Am I Oliver Cromwell?

- You're an idiot.

It doesn't count if someone

f***ing tells you, does it?

Rules is rules, Smudge, yeah. Five bines.

- You absolute knob.

Ma shot...

I swear to f***, Smudge, see if you make me

Jimmy f***ing Krankie one more time...

SONG OVER RADIO:

# I know where I'm going...

#... And I will stop at nothing

just to get what I want. It's the only way... #

Here, Smudge, watch this. Ready?

'pressive.

Ninja fingers, mate.

...weird.

- Mayo on sausage? You f***ing weirdo, mate.

It's sweet, mate. Mate, sausage,

cheese and mayo on a f***ing sandwich.

Swear to God, mate.

Don't look at me like that, I'm telling you.

Hurry up, man.

I'm f***ing starving.

NOISE OVER RADIO

There's a lot of f***ing about

down there, mush.

Oh. F***ing petrol station again, mate.

Here, go get Stu.

- Sure.

Stu, Stu, Stu, Stu. Wake up, mate.

Activity at the petrol station.

Come on, get your arse up.

Come on.

- F***ing hell. Alright, come on.

Bloody hell, Jar Head.

I was just getting to the good bit.

Right, what we looking at?

It's that f***ing petrol station again, mush.

They're persistent little bastards,

I'll give 'em that.

Right.

Kilo Two, this is Kilo Five, over.

WHITE NOISE:

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