Carry on Jack

Synopsis: This is the tale of Albert Poop-Decker, a newly commissioned Midshipman (although he took 8 1/2 years to qualify). He joins the frigate Venus, and adventures through Spanish waters, mutinee and Pirates taking his Captain, his sweet-heart and his best-friend with him! With mistaken identities and shipwrecks awash, it's a surprise any of them live to tell the tale!
Director(s): Gerald Thomas
Production: Lionsgate
91 min

We must have more men, Hardy,

more men.

When you get back, tell them.

Tell them we need more men.

We need a bigger Navy.

We must have more recruits.

You mustn't talk so much, sir.

You must save your strength.

I know.

Kiss me, Hardy.

I beg your pardon, sir?

Kiss me, Hardy.

Are you mad?

What will they say at the Admiralty, sir?

They'll only be jealous.

I don't know. You're very weak, sir.

It may not be good for you.

Told you so.

It is usual for a cadet to spend a year

at the Naval Academy

before qualifying and passing out,

but you seem to be a somewhat

exceptional case, having taken...

Let me see.

- Eight and a half years, sir.

- Exactly, Albert Decker.

Eight and a half years.

The name is Poop-Decker, sir.

I have a hyphen.

According to this report,

you have more than that.

But as we are short of men,

we can't afford to be fussy.

No, sir. I'm sure I shall pass out all right

next year, sir.

I admire your confidence, Decker,

but, unfortunately,

England cannot wait that long.

While we're at war with Spain, we need

every able-bodied man we can get.

I use the term "able-bodied" loosely,

of course.

In your case, we've decided to forgo

the usual formalities of passing out,

and present you with your

Midshipman's sword immediately.

- Oh, thank you, sir.

- And thank you.

Put it on.

Put it on!

Yes, sir.

You will proceed to Plymouth

and join His Majesty's frigate Venus.

Aye aye, sir.

And please remember, Mr Poop-Decker,

that you are a member of His Majesty's

Navy, and try and act accordingly.

Don't worry, sir. You can depend on me.

That is what I am afraid of.

Whoa, there!

Plymouth town!

Hurry up, Captain Blood,

or the war'll be over.

- Be careful or I'll start another one.

- I wouldn't put it past you.

You insolent dog! Get my bag down.

You dare.

Go on! Get up!

You watch where you're going!

Thank you!

Oh, well.

They'll never know if I don't pull it out.


Take you to the docks, Cap'n?

Oh, yes. I want the frigate Venus.

If you think he can make it?

Don't you worry about young

Lightning Legs. He'll be all right.

- Take your bag?

- Thank you.

- Hey up!

- Argh!


Wait! Stop a minute!

Whoa! Wait a minute!

Stop it! Wait a minute!


There we are, Cap'n.

That'll be just a crown, please.

A crown? There's no bottom in that thing.

I've run all the way!

Well, it's better than walkin', isn't it?

- It's daylight robbery.

- Thank you, Cap'n. There's your ship.

Oh, good. I must find Captain Fearless.

You won't find nobody

aboard her now, Cap'n.

- Why not?

- She sails first thing in the morning.

They've all gone ashore

to get a last bit of you-know-what.

- You-know-what?

- And I know where too.

If I were you, I'd step ashore yourself.

You would?

It'll be many a long day

afore you see a young wench again.

Again? But I've never...

Well, of course, I wouldn't mind a bit of...


Providing they're well-brought up ladies.

Don't you worry, Cap'n,

I know the perfect place

for a gentleman of quality like yourself.

Good. How do I get there?

No, not again.

Half-fare, sir, as you're partly driving,

as you might say.

You're on.

We're going for a bit of...


Is that right, Ned? The Venus leaves

for Spanish waters tomorrow?

That's right, my lovely. What of it?

Do you think

you could you smuggle me aboard?

- What for?

- No questions asked.

Oh-ho! That's different.

Well, what about it?

Supposing I did.

What would I get for me trouble?

I've got five sovereigns saved up.

I don't want your money, my lovely.

You know what I want.

Well, what's your answer?


Thank'ee, sir, thank'ee.

- He needed a rest, poor old basket.

- Don't mention it.

He's past it, you see.

Must be dreadful,

carrying this day after day.

It's better

than walkin' the streets, isn't it?

As you weren't inside runnin' in comfort,

I'll only charge half fare and no tip.

That's very generous of you, thank you.

- Where's my bag?

- You'll find plenty of them in there, sir.

- I meant my duffle bag.

- My dad's got it. Dad?

- Is he going in there after women?

- What do you think?

- I'll go with him!

- You will not! You get back in there.

- I thought you said he was past it!

- He is, but his memory isn't.

Thank you.

- Oh, aren't you coming in with me?

- You won't need any help, Cap'n.

Yes, but if these are nice young ladies,

I'll need to be introduced.

Not exactly. Now, let me see.

Have you got a golden sovereign?

Yes, I think so.

There's a quaint old custom

in these parts,

when a young gentleman goes courtin',

he holds in his hand a golden sovereign.

This shows

that his intentions are honourable.

If you know what I mean.

Yes... What a charming custom.

Isn't it?

Thank you very much.

You've been most helpful. Thank you.

Thank you.

- I'd get in, if I were you.

They'll be shut. - Yes.


No! Please!

I was told by a man in a sedan chair...

Please, put me down!

Please... put me down.

Argh! Oh!

Oh, sorry, sir.

Come on, darlin'.

You come and see what Peg's got.

- Please!

- Come on. Come on!

- Come on!

- That's far enough, Peg. Let him be.

Can't you see

he's still wet behind the ears?

We'll soon dry 'em for him!

Oh, no, you won't!

Ow! Oh, you rotten old b*tch!

Now, get out of here.

Thank you.

The same goes for you.

You ought to have had more sense

than to flash your money round

Rate this script:3.0 / 2 votes

Talbot Rothwell

Talbot Nelson Conn Rothwell, OBE (12 November 1916 – 28 February 1981) was an English screenwriter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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