'Allo 'Allo!

What a morning this has been. My wife Edith

has just been going through all her songs with her new pianist.

He, by a strange coincidence,

just happens to be the twin brother

of monsieur Leclerc, the old forger.

Ernest... for that is his name...

Was being visited by Roger in the Nick,

where he was serving a rather long sentence

for driving a getaway car without due care and attention.

Anyway, Roger decided to swap places with his brother

because he was of the opinion that the prison food

was better than that being served here by my wife Edith.

So Ernest has now got his feet well and truly under our table,

but it will only be a short while

before he realizes just how right his brother was about the food.

What did I tell you?

So if you will bear with me,

those of you with good memories may recall

that a few months ago, upon the orders of general Von klinkerhoffen,

I was arrested, put in front of a firing squad and shot.

Fortunately the colonel substituted

wooden bullets for the real ones.

Lieutenant Gruber, who was in charge of the shooting party,

was unaware of this and still believes

that I am my own twin brother.

Lieutenant Gruber, you may remember, is the one who fancies me.

He also fancied my twin brother...

Which is hardly surprising because that was me as well.

Are you with me so far?

So in order to keep up the illusion,

from time to time Edith and I place flowers upon my grave.

Well, the grave that... So there we are.

A fitting tribute to a fine and much loved man...

Me.

Ah, Rene.

Yvette, where is your hat?

Are you not going with me to the cemetery?

No, I have an appointment at the hairdresser's.

Rene, would you place for me upon your grave this tribute?

The village expect it.

The village would not expect that.

Ah, Rene.

Edith, you are not coming to pay respects

to my sacred memory in your curlers.

I am not coming at all.

How quickly they forget.

I have not forgotten.

Then you have flowers for me. You are hiding them behind your back.

I thought you could take for me this rhubarb.

The stalks are too floppy to make puddings,

but the leaves are quite pretty.

Edith, I will not be remembered with floppy rhubarb.

Rene?

And I am not having that on my grave either.

I was dusting. You are wanted in the backroom

by Michelle of the resistance.

Oh heck, why can she not take her business elsewhere?

I'm glad I caught you in time.

We do not wish you to go near the churchyard,

in case the Germans suspect something is going on there.

What could be going on there?

Beneath the empty grave which is supposed to contain

the body of your dead twin brother,

we are building a communications center.

Six undertakers have been for the last six weeks,

day and night, excavating.

What is wrong with a radio in the bedroom of my mother?

The Germans jam it.

We have a new plan of escape for the British airmen.

We must be able to contact england to tell them when to put it into effect.

We need a bigger aerial to give our signal more power.

It will be ready for testing within the next 24 hours.

When I give the word,

we will all go to the churchyard and place on your grave flowers.

For this reason, you must not go today.

I do not think this rhubarb will last until tomorrow.

Make a pie for your mother.

I must leave you in great haste.

I am late for bomb practice.

I think they have started without you.

Rene, officer Crabtree is coming across the square.

Well, he's not coming in my cafe again.

That Napoleon-French accent of his will get us all shot.

Good moaning.

What a nice dew it is with the sin showning

and not a clot in the sky.

Yes, it is indeed a lovely dew.

Will you please pass off?

I have good nose.

The British navvy have a plin.

An aeroplin?

No, a rescue plin for the British earmen.

That is indeed good nose.

Don't you start.

This is the plin...

When the time is root, they will wick down the canal

to the ostuary, where they will be pocked up by a submaroone.

Wait... what... we...

How are they supposed walk down the canal?

They are six feet tall, the canal is eight feet deep.

- They will drown. - That is the clever bot.

On their hods, they will carry an upturned tin both.

No, he has lost me.

I think he means a tin bath.

They have just practiced, and it wicks.

Hello!

If I had not seen it with my own eyes, I would not believe it.

If you do not mind me saying, herr Flick,

you will soon wear a hole in our commandeered carpet.

I will continue pacing

until I have found an answer to my question.

If I knew the question perhaps I could be of help.

Your single brain cell would be better employed

putting on the kettle.

Yes, herr Flick.

Stop.

I have got it.

May my single brain cell ask what you have got?

The answer to the question that has vexed us

ever since we first occupied this town.

How do we pull the crumpet?

That is not the question that has vexed us.

It has vexed me.

The question is this:

How do we discover who hides the British airmen

when they have been shot down?

We disguise ourselves

as British airmen who have been shot down.

I wish I had thought of that.

You are too busy thinking about crumpet.

How do we convince the resistance

that we are genuine British airmen?

We carry cricket bats.

Good thinking... But rather obvious!

No.

We wear British uniforms,

and we both jump out of a captured British Wellington.

Are British Wellingtons big enough?

I'm talking about a British Wellington bomber.

The resistance will then take us to their secret headquarters,

we will make a note of its whereabouts and their identities,

and we will return with the army to effect the capture.

Oh, a most ingenious plan, herr Flick.

I cannot see it failing.

Then we have but one task...

To learn enough English to fool the French.

Fortunately, the gestapo have provided

a comprehensive record library.

Here it is.

"Tibetan in three months."

"There will be big bombers over the white cliffs of Dover tomorrow.

Just you wait and see!"

Sung by Goering.

Ah, here's the one.

"How to fool the French that you are English

in one easy lesson."

Here is the English to fool the French peasants.

Repeat after me.

Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa.

Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa.

Private Helga!

You beautiful lady! I kiss-a your hand.

What are you doing with my typewriter?

I compose for you the beautiful-a poem.

You listen good.

"Your wonderful smile

drives me out of my wits.

I love-a your eyes and your..."

captain bertorelli!

"... And your other nice bits.

I got a surprise, and I hope-a that it fits."

- Captain bertorelli! - All-a the way from Italy.

The silk, a Liberty bodice.

See?

In it there is a lot of Liberty.

Helga!

I must go, the colonel wants me.

We all want you.

Oh, captain.

You called, colonel?

I've been calling you for half an hour.

- Where have you been? - I've been with herr Flick.

And what nastiness is he cooking up?

I have to report, he has a most ingenious plan

to find out who is helping the British airmen to escape.

Herr Flick and herr Von smallhausen

intend to disguise themselves as British airmen,

so that the resistance will pick them up

and take them to their secret hiding place.

I do not like the idea of the gestapo being successful

where we have failed.

But, colonel,

suppose the trail should lead to the cafe and Rene.

If Rene's involved, it's entirely his own fault.

We've warned him often enough.

Could we not drop him a hint?

No, Gruber. I absolutely forbid you to drop anything.

Colonelo, Rene is the good man, huh?

He has the nice wife, the nice serving girls,

what for you want to drop him into the whatsit?