The Odd Angry Shot

Bill:
[trying to drink a can of beer] I can't find the hole.

Harry:
You could if it had hair 'round it.

Bung:
Ah, do I detect the unmistakable tang of ye olde Tiger?

Harry:
Bung, you could sniff out a can of beer from half a mile away.

Bung:
Just one of my many talents.

Sergeant-Major:
You lot think you're supermen. Tin heroes, more like.

Harry:
I said 'get f***ed', you great beer-sodden bag of sh*t!

Sergeant-Major:
Right, you're all on a charge.

Harry:
Well, you'd better make it murder, because I'm gonna knock your f***ing head right off.

[Bill has picked up a prostitute]

Prostitute:
You like me?

Bill:
Yeah.

Prostitute:
You very big.

Bill:
I bet you say that to all the heroes.

Prostitute:
Come, we lie down.

Bill:
No, we stand.

Prostitute:
You crazy?

Bill:
Probably.

Bung:
You reckon we're doing any good by being here?

Harry:
Not much.

Bung:
Why not?

Harry:
Because when we get home we'll be an embarrassment to our great nation, the only bastards who'll want to know about us are the silly buggers in this man's army; let's face it, we have no one else.

Bill:
You mean the whole attitude has changed about the war?

Harry:
Yeah, and the fact that we won't win it; we may have held the fort for a while but the Commos will eventually get hold of this place and it just stands to reason.

Bung:
What about the people back home?

Harry:
Well I suppose it'll be just like it's been after every other war.

Bill:
Well how's that?

Harry:
Well a few pods will come up and pat you on the back and tell you what a great bloke you were, that'll last about a week and then nobody will want to hear about it.

Bung:
You really think they'll treat us like that?

Harry:
Five'll get you ten, oh they'll make a big deal out of it, probably make it an election issue and you can bet within five years every one of us wearing a uniform from the chief of the general staff downwards would've been sold out by some bloody sticky-fingered politician.

Bung:
Well what are we doing here then?

Harry:
You're a soldier, the same as every other silly prick in this tossed up, f***ed up, never-come-down land, that's why you're here because there's no one else, and everyone's got to be somewhere and you're here, so get used to it.

Harry:
It's the poor man, the sh*t-shoveler with the arse out of his pants and two bob in his pocket that makes Australia. Every time trouble starts, there he is, standing like a fool at the recruiting office with his hand out for a rifle, while the rich boys are at home hanging on, waiting for a commission or their fathers to get them into a safe job. And while you're stuck overseas with some poor bastards from the other side, who are just as scared as you are, shooting at you, the rich boys are at home probably down having a bit of a slum or a chop at yer bird.

Harry:
Bloody rain, you can set your watch by it!

Rogers:
What'd ya say, Harry?

Harry:
This rain. You can set your watch by this f***in' rain!

Rogers:
Welcome to Patrol 2-2, specialists in arson, murder and drinking!

Harry:
[to Bill] Did you hear about the Irish girl who took the Pill twice a night?

Dawson:
To be sure, to be sure.

Harry:
To be sure, to... be... sure. [Gives Dawson a dark look]

Harry:
Hey Cookie, do you know why they call cooks fitters and turners?

The Cook:
No, why?

Harry:
'Cos you fit food into pots and turn it into sh*t.

The Cook:
Up your arse!

Harry:
Uh, be nice to me Cookie or I'll piss in your scrambled egg.

Rogers:
What can you set your watch by Harry?

Soldiers:
This f***in' rain!

Rogers:
Hey Harry, we'll stir up the indigenous population when we get there, eh?

Harry:
Remember what the man said Rogers. You are the Special Air Service, you are visitors to South Vietnam.

Scott:
Better it's over there and not here.

Medic:
What do ya mean?

Scott:
That we're visitors.

Dawson:
Yeah, I can just see my mums face now if old missus Wilson from next door came over for a bit of a natter and sprayed up the place with a seven-point-six-two tracer.

Harry:
Scare the Christ out of your flying ducks, wouldn't it?