Chicken Run/Transcript

==Transcript==
(It's night. And a man named Mr. Tweedy is investigating his farm. Two dogs follow him. Every now and then he checks the lock and moves on. Unknown to him, an orange skinned chicken hid behind the huts. To avoid getting caught, she hides behind a hut. Mr. Tweedy shined his flashlight but he saw nothing. He continued on as the chicken grabs a spoon and digs a hole underneath and got out of the fence. The other chickens line up by the fence. and try to get under it. One of the largest hens got stuck midway.)
BUNTY: (quietly) I'm stuck!
(The orange hen tried to help but she hears dogs barking. She shoved her friend back in and runs away as Mr. Tweedy tries to catch her in the nick of time. She uses a garden gnome for protection, but the dogs bite the head. As the chicken backs up, a door opens. Mr. Tweedy's wife appears.)
MRS. TWEEDY: Mr. Tweedy? What is that chicken doing outside the fence?
MR. TWEEDY: Ooh! I don't know, luv, I...
MRS. TWEEDY: Just deal with it. Now! 
(The door slams. Mr. Tweedy frowns at the captured hen as he takes her to a dumpster-like place. He opens the door.)
MR. TWEEDY: I'll teach you to make a fool out of me. (He shoves the chicken down the cellar landing her on the coal.) Now let that be a lesson to the lot of you! No chicken escapes from Tweedy's farm! 
(He leaves as the main title opens up. During a music montage over opening titles, things go on in the farm, like egg counts, and famously, numerous escape attempts which backfire.)
Morning, Ginger. (Ginger dusts off the coal on her arm)
Back from holiday?
I wasn't on holiday, Babs. I was in solitary confinement.
It's nice to get a bit of time to yourself, isn't it? (the bell rings. An old chicken walks on the roof and stops, but not too close to the edge)
Roll call! (the chickens shuffle to their spots in line, WWII-style)
Come along. You'll be late for parade.
Pip, pip. Quick march.
Left right, left right, left right!
- Come on, smarten up!
- Ow!
Discipline! Back in my RAF days, when the senior officer called for a scramble, you'd hop in the old crate and tally-ho! Chocks away!
Give over, you old fool! They just want to count us.
How dare you talk back to a senior ranking officer.
Why, back in my RAF days... (Mrs. Tweedy enters the pen)
Fowler, they're coming. Back in line.
- Right! (he joins the others)
There'll be a stern reprimand for you, lad. You're grounded.
Attention! (they stand in the line motionless. Mrs. Tweedy comes in with a menacing grin. She snaps a rubber glove which makes the chickens gulp simultaneously)
Welcome back. Is there a new plan? (Ginger hands her associate Mac, a slip of paper)
I thought we tried going under. (she flips the paper right side up)
Ah, over. Right. (Mrs. Tweedy observes the egg count chart)
How's the egg count?
I've laid five eggs this morning. Five! Well chuffed, I was.
Shush! (looking through the chart, Mrs. Tweedy notices all days of the week written in red circles. She taps on the chart. Pulling it away, a chicken with a frightened face stares at ther)
Ginger: Oh, no!
Ginger: Edwina!
Why didn't you give her some of yours?
I would have. She didn't tell me.
She didn't tell anyone.
Ooh! Is Edwina off on holiday? (A shadow shows Mrs. Tweedy with an axe at hand, and Edwina on a stump. She readies the axe. From the chickens point of view, they hear a thump. They gasp. Back to Ginger. She climbs up on one of the roofs and watches the sunset. Geese form a 'V' sign.)
We've got to South Carolina.
Ginger? Are we still on?
Oh, we're on, all right. Spread the word, Mac.
Meeting tonight in hut 17.
Oh! (it's night. And the chickens are gathered in hut 17. Someone knocks on the door. Ginger opens the hatch. It's two rodents wearing fancy uniforms)
MALE VOICE: You called?
- Nick and...
- Fetcher at your service.
Over here. (the three go behind the hut)
We need some more things.
Right you are, miss.
How about this quality hand-crafted tea set?
This necklace and pendant?
Or this, all the rage in the fashionable chicken coops of Paris? (it's actually a badminton shuttlecock)
Simply pop it on, and as the French hens say, "voilá"!
That is French.
That's two hats in one, miss. For parties.
For weddings. Oh, madame!
You look like a vision. Like a dream.
Like a duck.
Ginger: No, thank you. (she hands the things to one of the gents)
We're making this. We need "these" things.
- Can you get them? - Oh...
This is a big job, miss.
Bigger than the others. This is gonna cost.
Same as always. One bag of seed.
- You call this pay?
- It's chicken feed.
- What else could we give you?
- Eggs.
- Eggs?
- Eggs.
No. Our eggs are too valuable.
And so are we.
After you, Fetcher.
After I what?
Move!
Hmm! (Mr. Tweedy watches from the window of his house as Mrs. Tweedy counts some bills.)
MR. TWEEDY: Hmm. Twenty-two and nine. Fourteen shillings and threepence. Seven and sixpence times three.
MRS. TWEEDY: Two and nine. Fourpence halfpenny. (the paper rolls out more) D-oh! Stupid, worthless creatures! I'm sick and tired of making minuscule profits. (she notices a magazine with an ad saying "Sick and tired of making miniscule profits?")
Hmm. (she turns the page and sees more text "Turn your chicken farm into a goldmine!" On the bottom, a man says "I'm rich!" in a speech bubble)
Hmm!
MR. TWEEDY: Oh, yes. (Mrs. Tweedy turns to her husband)
Those chickens are up to something.
MRS. TWEEDY: Quiet. I'm onto something.
MR. TWEEDY: They're organized, I know it.
MRS. TWEEDY: I said, quiet. (with Mr. Tweedy holding binoculars)
MR. TWEEDY: That ginger one. I reckon she's their leader. (Mrs. Tweedy bangs her fist on the table. Mr. Tweedy turns to her)
MRS. TWEEDY: Mr. Tweedy! I may finally have found a way to make us some real money around here, and what are you on about Ridiculous notions of escaping chickens.
MR. TWEEDY: But-- But--
MRS. TWEEDY: It's all in your head, Mr. Tweedy. Say it!
It's all in me head. It's all in me head.
MRS. TWEEDY: Now, you keep telling yourself that, because I don't want to hear another word about it. Is that clear?
MR. TWEEDY: Yes, love. But you know that ginger one--
MRS. TWEEDY: They're chickens, you dolt! Apart from you, they're the most stupid creatures on this planet. They don't plot, they don't scheme, and they are not organized! (back at the hut, the chickens are trying to get themselves comfortable)
Order! Order!
Quiet, everyone!
Settle down.
I would like to call to order... Oh, please!
FOWLER: Quiet there! (the chickens stop)
Let's have some discipline, what, what?
Thank you.
In my RAF days, we had no time for unnecessary chitchat.
Yes, thank you, Fowler.
I... (everyone glances at Fowler)
Right.
Carry on. (he leaves)
Now, I know kiwi (are bandaged) was a bit of a fiasco.
But Mac and I have come up with a brand new plan.
- Show 'em, Mac.
- Right.
We tried going under the wire and that didn't work.
So the plan is, we go over it. (she unveils a small catapult-like machine. She uses a turnip with googly eyes, and a carrot for a nose)
This is us, right?
We get in like this, wind her up, and let her go! (the turnip flies off the basket. Fowler ducks as the turnip smashes against the wall)
Good grief! The turnip's bought it.
The farmer's coming! (she blows a horn which sets the chickens into sleep mode for the night.)
Operation Cover-Up! (a chicken jumps into a trap door)
Whee! (a chicken extinguishes a candle, which succeeds. Albeit her fingers may have burned a little)
Ouch! (Mr. Tweedy opens the roof to find the chickens fast asleep, but one is actually a teapot)
MRS. TWEEDY: Mr. Tweedy! (the roof hits his head)
MR. TWEEDY: Ooh! Ouch!
MRS. TWEEDY: Where are you?
It's all in your head. It's all in your head. (a chicken looks at the window, and gives a thumbs up. The team is awake and the lights are back on)
Think, everyone, think. What haven't we tried yet?
We haven't tried not trying to escape.
Hmm. That might work.
What about Edwina? (they see the empty nest)
How many more empty nests will it take?
It wouldn't be empty if she'd spent more time laying,
- And less time escaping.
- So, laying eggs all your life, then getting plucked and roasted is good enough for you?
It's a living.
The problem is the fences aren't just round the farm, they're up here in your heads.
There is a better place out there. (Ginger sees an ad with a grassy landscape on it)
Somewhere beyond that hill.
It has wide-open spaces and lots of trees. And grass.
Can you imagine that?
Cool, green grass.
- Who feeds us?
- We feed ourselves.
- Where's the farm?
- There is no farm.
- Where does the farmer live?
- There is no farmer.
Is he on holiday?
He isn't anywhere. Don't you get it?
There's no egg count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys, and no fences!
In all my life, I've never heard such a fantastic... (her calm mood turns into an angry mood) ...load of tripe! (Bunty goes to Ginger)
Face the facts, ducks.
The chances of us getting out of here are a million to one.
Then there's still a chance. (she leaves the hut)
Oh, no, oh, no! What am I doing? Who are you trying to fool?
You can't lead this bunch of... (she bangs herself on the fence and grumbles)
Heaven help us. (an explosion occurs. Ginger notices it and sees a rooster flying above the farm)
Freedo-o-o-om! (Ginger gapes in amazement at the rooster as he salutes to her. He is caught in the weather vane and slides down the feeding dish)
Aaargh...!
Whoa! (he lands successfully)
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, you've been a wonderful audience. (the dish lands on him, and half of a poster flies in mid-air. Ginger shows it to the gang at the hut)
Ouch!
Agnes: By 'eck!
That's it!
Get him inside, quickly! (she shows the gang the poster)
This is our way out of here.
We'll make posters?
What's on the poster, Babs? What's "on" the poster? We'll fly out.
He must be very important to have his picture taken.
What does he do?
Isn't it obvious? He's a professional flying rooster.
He flies around farms giving demonstrations.
- Do you suppose?
- Absolutely.
ROCKY: Not in there!
Get out! Got to get...
Uh! Eesh! Argh! (from his point of view, he sees the chickens in a warped picture effect)
Who are you? Where am I? What's going on? Ouch! (he notices his wing is wrapped up in bandages)
ROCKY: What happened to my wing?
GINGER: You took a nasty fall.
MAC: And spraying the anterior tendon connecting radius to humerus.  I gave it a wee bit of a tweak, Jimmy, and wrapped her up.
ROCKY: Was that English? 
GINGER: She you sprained your wing. She fixed it.
BABS: And I made the bandage!
BUNTY: I carried you in!
(the chickens clamor all at once)
ROCKY: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Whoa. Let's back up and start from the top. Where am I?
GINGER: Right. How rude of us. We're just very exci... This is a chicken farm.
BABS: And we're the chickens. (Babs winks)
ROCKY: I'm with you so far. Chicken farm, chickens.
FOWLER: I don't like the look of this one. His eyes are too close together.
GINGER: Fowler! Please.
FOWLER: And he's a Yank!
ROCKY: Easy pops. Cockfighting's illegal where I come from.
BUNTY: Where is that, exactly?
ROCKY: Just a little place I call the land of the free and home of the brave.
MAC: Scotland!
ROCKY: No! America.
CHICKENS: Oooh, America!
FOWLER: Poppycock! Pushy Americans. Always showing up late for every war. Overpaid, oversexed and over here!
ROCKY: Hey. What's eating Grandpa?
GINGER: Don't mind him, Mr...? 
ROCKY: The name's Rocky. Rocky the Rhode Island Red. Rhodes for short.
AGNES: Rocky Rhodes? 
ROCKY: Catchy, ain't it?
GINGER: Erm, Mr Rhodes, is this you?
ROCKY: Er, who wants to know?
GINGER: A group of rather desperate chickens. You see, If it is you, then you just might be the answer to our prayers.
ROCKY: Well, then call me a miracle, doll face, because that's me.
ALL: Ooh!
BEATRICE: And what brings you to England, Mr Rhodes?
ROCKY: Why, all the beautiful English chicks, of course.
BUNTY: Give over!
ROCKY: You see I'm a traveller by nature. I did that whole barnyard thing for a while, but I couldn't really get into it. Hi, how are you? Nope! The open road is more my style. Give me a pack on my back and point me where the wind blows. In fact You know what they call me back home? You're gonna love this. The Lone Free Ranger.
CHICKENS: Ooh!
ROCKY: Isn't that great?
GINGER: I knew it was possible. I knew the answer would come. We're all going to fly over that fence because Mr. Rhodes is going to show us how, right?
ROCKY: That's... Ooh! What?! Did you say fly?
GINGER: You can teach us. 
ROCKY: No, I can't. Listen. Shh! You hear that? That's the open road calling my name and I was born to answer that call. Bye. (he speeds off)
BABS: He must have very good hearing.
[Outside]
ROCKY: Okay, where's the exit? This way.
Ginger: Mr Rhodes? Perhaps I didn't explain our situation properly. We lay eggs, day in and day out, and when we can't lay any more, they kill us.
ROCKY: It's a cruel world, doll face. You might as well get used to it.
Ginger: Which part of "they kill us" do you not understand?
ROCKY: I got my own set of problems to worry about .Besides, this birdcage can't be hard to bust out of. In fact watch me.
Ginger: It's not so hard to get one chicken out of here, or even two. But this is about all of us.
ROCKY: All of you?
Ginger: That's what I've been trying to tell you.
ROCKY: Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You want to get every chicken out of here at the same time?!
Ginger: Of course.
ROCKY: You're certifiable! You can't pull off a stunt like that. That's suicide.
Ginger: Where there's a will, there's a way. 
ROCKY: Couldn't agree more. And I will be leaving that way.
Ginger: Mr. Rhondes. Please!
[As Rocky was about to leave, he spotted a van coming. he flees. Ginger looekd to see a man exit the van. She looked and saw a CIrcus logo on it.]
Ginger: So that's it! You're from the circus. You're on the run, aren't you?
ROCKY: You want to keep it down? I'm trying to lay low here.
Ginger: I should turn you in right now.
ROCKY: You wouldn't. Would you?
Ginger: Give me one reason why I shouldn't? 
ROCKY: Because I'm... cute?
(Ginger gives him a blank look, then squawks like a crow. The humans look on as Rocky shuts her beak.)
ROCKY: Hey, hey, hey. What kind of crazy chick are you? Do you knoow what'll happen if he finds me?
Ginger: It's a cruel world.
ROCKY: I just decided I don't like you.
Ginger: I just decided I don't care. Now show us how to fly. 
ROCKY: With this wing?
Ginger: Teach us, then. 
ROCKY: No! 
(squawks again)
MRS. TWEEDY: He's valuable, you say?
CIRCUS MAN: Sure. 
MRS. TWEEDY: Get the torch.
ROCKY: Now you listen, sister. I'm not going back to that life. I'm a Lone Free Ranger, emphasis on free.
Ginger: And that's what "we" want. Freedom. Fancy that. They're coming.
ROCKY: Oh, no! No! They're onto me!
Ginger: Teach us to fly and we'll hide you.
ROCKY: And if I don't? Was your father by any chance a vulture?
Ginger: Do we have a deal?
ROCKY: Time to make good on that deal, doll...
Ginger: The name is Ginger.
[She knocks on the hut as arms grabbed them inside.]
Ginger: Comfortable?
ROCKY: Not really.
Ginger: Maybe this'll help.
ROCKY: Ow! Nice hideout. Ouch! I had more room in my egg.
Ginger: We've held up our end of the deal. Tomorrow, you hold up yours.
ROCKY: What deal? 
Ginger: The flying!
ROCKY: Oh, yeah. Don't worry. I'll teach you everything I know. Now, which bunk is mine?
ALL: Me! Here!
FOWLER: Absolutely outrageous! Asking a senior officer to share his quarters, and with a non-commissioned Yank, no less! Why, back in my day, I'd never...
ROCKY: Hey! You weren't my first choice, either. And scoot over. Your wing's on my side of the bunk.
FOWLER: Your side of the bunk? The whole bunk is my side of the bunk!
ROCKY: What's that smell? Is that your breath?
FOWLER: It's abolutely outrageous! 
(the next day...)
ROCKY: So, you want to fly? Well, it ain't gonna be easy. And it ain't gonna happen overnight, either. You see, flying takes three things. Hard work, perseverance, and... hard work.
FOWLER: You said "hard work" twice!
ROCKY: That's because it takes twice as much work as perseverance.
FOWLER: Codswallop! Cocky Yanks think they know it all.
ROCKY: Now the most important thing is we have to work as a team. Which means you do everything I tell you. Right! Let's rock 'n' roll! 
(Rocky instructs the coop through fitness movements. In one move, Rocky feels his hurting wing. He motions them to keep on going as he held his him. As Mr. Tweedy comes by he sees the chickens working out. He alerts Mrs. Tweedy but now he sees the chickens pecking.)
MR. TWEEDY: Mrs Tweedy! The chickens are... Pecking? 
(Annoyed, Mrs. Tweedy bonks her hysband with the clipboard. Later, the chickens are doing stretches)
ROCKY: And left, two, three. And right, two, three. And stop right there. Oh, yeah. Down. Yeah. Make little circles. That's it. Faster. Faster. 
(Ginger stops and sees Rocky in a hot tub with the help of three chickens.)
ROCKY: Oh, yes. Perfect. Oh, that's the spot.
GINGER: Ahem!
ALL: Ooh!
(The chickens leave) 
Ginger: I thought you were going to teach us how to fly.
ROCKY: That's what I'm doing.
Ginger: Isn't there usually some flapping involved?
ROCKY: Hey! Do I tell you how to lay eggs? Relax. We're making progress.
Ginger: Really? I can't help feeling we're going round in circles.
ROCKY: What the--? Hey! Cut it out! You're making me dizzy. I think they're ready to fly now.
Ginger: Good. Because they certainly can't walk anymore.
ROCKY: Up and at 'em, Let's flap
NICK: Watch Fetcher: Let's see if old Attila the Hen has come to her senses.
FETCHER: It's raining hen!
NICK: What's this caper, luv?
BABS: We're flying. 
NICK: Obviously!
(?)
NICK: Flippin' hell. Look at this, Fetch.
FETCHER: They're gonna kill themselves. Want to watch?
NICK: Yeah, all right.
(?)
NICK AND FETCHER: Ooh! Aah!
NICK: Oi! Careful of those eggs! (?) Sunny side up.
FETCHER: Now they're over easy!
NICK: Definitely scrambled.
ROCKY: Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!
NICK: Poultry in motion!
FETCHER: Birds of a feather flop together!
ROCKY: Great work, ladies. Great work. The pain you're feeling is a good thing. It's good. Pain is your friend. It's a positive thing. Just keep the faith, what was your name? Agnes. You'll get there. Ducky, I think you flew four feet today.
NICK: Right, yeah! Four feet... from the roof to the ground!
ROCKY: All part of the process, ladies. Nothing to worry about. You cheesy little... (?) Woah! That doesn't sound good. Okay, the ground's shaking. Are we worried? Are we worried? (gasps) The circus! Quick, hide me! Hide me!
Ginger: Come on.
FOWLER: One isn't awarded a medal like this for flapping about like a lunatic, what! See here! This is an officer's quarters!
Ginger: Quick! In here! 
FOWLER: Get out of here immediately!
ROCKY: Oh, give it a rest, Pops.
FOWLER: Get out of here! I shall have you on a charge within the week!
MR. TWEEDY: Cheers, mate.
It's all in your head. It's all in your head. It's all in your head.
MR. TWEEDY: Oooh! What... What's all this, then?
MRS. TWEEDY: This is our future, Mr. Tweedy. No more wasting time with petty egg collection and minuscule profits. 
MR. TWEEDY: No more eggs?! But we've always been egg farmers. Me father and his father and all their fathers. They was always... 
MRS. TWEEDY: Poor... worthless... nothings! But all that's about to change. This will take Tweedy's farm out of the Dark Ages and into full-scale automated production. Melisha Tweedy will be poor no longer.
MR. TWEEDY: Ooh! I'll put it together then, shall I?
GINGER: This isn't good, Mac. Whatever's in those boxes is for us. And I don't think it's softer hay.
MAC: Aye, hen. I hate to be the voice of doom, but I've been lcaculating my figures, and I just don't think we're built for flying.
GINGER: But I saw him. He flew in over that fence.
MAC: Aye, I believe you. But if we could just see it for ourselves, that might answer some questions.
GINGER: You're right. I'm sorry. We've been at this all week and we're getting nowhere. If his wing were better, he could... I'll have a word with him. (?) Well, where is he?
FOWLER: They didn't give me this medal for being a Yank, nanny.
Ginger: A simple "I don't know" would suffice.
FOWLER: Beware of that one, young Ginger. That Yank is not to be trusted.
Ginger: That Yank is our ticket out of here.
ROCKY: A-and the pig says to the horse, "Hey, fella, why the long face?"
Look, look, look! Cocktail!
BUNTY: Give over!
ROCKY: So, erm, anyway... Remember those flying tips tomorrow. They're very important. And keep thinking those flighty thoughts. They're swell chicks. They really are. ook at what Babs made me. A beak warmer! Isn't that the cutest? And that Bunty, she really packs a pun... Is there a problem here? 
Ginger: Have we flown over that fence?
ROCKY: Not quite. 
Ginger: Then there's a problem.
ROCKY: Good things come to those who wait, doll face. 
Ginger: Ginger! (?) OK. How long did it take you?
ROCKY: To do what? 
Ginger: To learn how to fly.
ROCKY: Apples and oranges, baby doll. I'm gifted, they're not. You can't compare the two, okay? Point is these things take time. 
Ginger: Which we are rapidly running out of and we haven't even lifted off. Why?
MAC: Thrust. I went over my calculations. here and I figured the key element we're missing is thrust.
ROCKY: I didn't get a word of that.
MAC: Thrust! Other birds like ducks and geese when they take off, what do they have? Thrust!
ROCKY: I swear she ain't using real words.
Ginger: She said we need more thrust.
ROCKY: Oh. Thrust! Of course we need thrust. Thrust and flying are like this. That's flying, that's thrust.
Ginger: Will you excuse us? 
MAC: Aye.
ROCKY: The wing, the wing!
Ginger: If we don't see results by tomorrow, the deal is off and you're on your own. No more hiding. The farmers will find you, and it's back to the circus, fly boy.
ROCKY: You know, you're the first chick I ever met with the shell still on. Sleep tight, angel face. The Rock's on the case.
Ginger: Ginger!
FOWLER: Ahem! Cock-a-doodle-doo! What, what?
NICK: It was a beaut, guv'nor, A fine piece of work If I say so meself.
FETCHER: I say so meself, too.
ROCKY: I wish I'd seen it.
NICK: We slipped into the farmer's room, all quiet like.
FETCHER: Like a fish. 
NICK: Yeah, and we... Like a fish? You stupid Norbert. Anyway, guv, here it is. El merchandiso.
FETCHER: That's Spanish.
Ginger: What are these two crooks doing here?
ROCKY: So, you know each other?
FETCHER: She don't think we're valuable.
ROCKY: Guys, you are, without a doubt, the sneakiest, most light-fingered thieving parasites I've ever met.
NICK: Oh, don't. Stop it.
FETCHER: I've gone bright red.
NICK: So, how about them eggs?
Ginger: Eggs?! Don't tell me you promised them...
ROCKY: Yep. I promised them every egg I lay this month.
NICK: And, uh, when can we expect the first instalment?
ROCKY: I'm brewing one up as we speak, guys. I'll keep you posted.
NICK: Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Sucker.
ROCKY: What? 
Ginger: You lied to them.
ROCKY: I didn't lie, doll face. I just omitted certain truths. I'll give them what I promised.
Ginger: Which is nothing. 
ROCKY: Which is what I'll give them.
Ginger: And what will you give us?
ROCKY: Thrust!
ROCKY: You okay, sweetheart? Good, good. This will just get you going. It's a thrust exercise.
FETCHER: The tension's killing me! 
NICK: It's gonna kill her.
ROCKY: Release!
Ginger: Come on! Flap!
Ginger: You can do it. Flap, flap, flap!
Ginger: Yes, yes, yes!
NICK: Is that your first of-fence?
ROCKY: Oops.
BABS: Roll call! I haven't laid any eggs. Three days and not one. Oh, no!
GINGER: Why didn't you tell us, Babs? 
BABS: We've been so busy with the flying.
HEN: They're coming! 
ROCKY: Hide me!
GINGER: Hide yourself!
[Everyone quickly gets in line, Ginger motions Babs to put away her knitting and she did. Mrs Tweedy enters the coop as Babs whimepred in fright. Ginger held her hand for comfort as Babs gulped. She looked up at Mrs Tweedy who was holding a measuring take and measured her stomach.]
MRS. TWEEDY: Double their food rations, Mr. Tweedy. I want them all as fat as this one.
BABS: All of me life flashed before me eyes! It was really boring. Chicken feed! My favourite.
Ginger: Wait. Wait. No, wait! Babs, please! Stop it! Wait! Stop!
Ginger: Stop it! Something is wrong here. Can't you see that? Strange boxes arrive in the barn. Babs stops laying, but they don't take her to the chop. and now they're giving us extra food. Don't you see what's happening? They're fattening us up. They're going to kill us all!
ROCKY: Whoa, whoa! Heavy alert. She didn't mean that, gals.
Ginger: Do you mind?
ROCKY: Keep eating. Save some for me.
Ginger: What are you doing? How dare you! Let go of me!
ROCKY: Listen. I've met some hard-boiled eggs in my day, but I say you're about 20 minutes!
Ginger: What's that supposed to mean? 
ROCKY: It means you got to lighten up. Over In America we have this rule. If you want to motivate someone, don't mention death!
Ginger: Funny. Over here, the rule is always tell the truth.
ROCKY: That's been working like a charm, hasn't it? Here's some free advice. You want them to perform? Tell them what they want to hear.
Ginger: You mean lie?
ROCKY: Here we go again. You know what your problem is? You're... difficult!
Ginger: Why? Because I'm honest? I care about what happens to them. Something I woudln't expect a Lone Free Ranger to know anything about.
ROCKY: If this is the way you show it, I hope you never care about me.
Ginger: I can assure you, I never will.
ROCKY: Good! 
Ginger: Fine! (?) What's all this?
HEN: Up your end.
NICK: Here she is. Ask and you shall receive.
FETCHER: That's biblical.
NICK: That's real craftsmanship is what it is. Solid as a rock.
FETCHER: It's supposed to do that.
ROCKY: It's perfect, guys.
NICK: How's that egg coming?
ROCKY: This is a double yolker.
GINGER: I don't see what this has to do with...
ROCKY: You will. We've been working too hard. Time to kick back a bit and shake those tail feathers!
BUNTY: Look at him! Nellypodging around like a... Oh good heavens! What's happening?
ROCKY: That's called a beat, sister. Feel it pulsing through your body?
BUNTY: Ooh, yes! Pulsing. Fancy that.
ROCKY: Then go with it, baby!
BUNTY: Oh! My! Look, I'm going with it.
BABS: Bunty, what's got into you?
BUNTY: Same thing that's got into you apparently.
RADIO: Flip, flop and fly, I don't care if I die
ROCKY: Go with the flow, girls. 
RADIO: I don't care if I die
Don't ever leave me, don't ever say goodbye
FOWLER: Now see here. I don't recall authorising a hop.
BUNTY: Oh, shut up and dance.
NICK: What are you sobbing about, you nancy?
FETCHER: Little moments like this, hate. it's what makes the job all worthwhile. Want a dance?
NICK: Yeah, all right.
RADIO: Give me one more kiss and hold it a long, long time
Give me one more kiss and hold it a long, long time
Love me, baby, till the feeling hits my head like wine
Flip, flop and fly, I don't care if I die
Flip, flop and fly, I don't care if I die
Don't ever leave me, don't ever say goodbye
Don't ever leave me, don't ever say goodbye
Yeah, don't ever leave me, don't ever say goodbye
BABS: Did you see that? I flew!
ROCKY: Atta girl, Babsy! Atta girl.
Ginger: Oh! Your wing. It's better!
ROCKY: Well! How about that?
Ginger: Fantastic! You can fly for us tomorrow.
ROCKY: Yeah, so it seems.
BABS: I flew! I flew!
Ginger: It looks like I owe you an apology. I didn't think you cared about us, but after all this, well it... seems I was wrong.
ROCKY: Hey, easy, Miss Hard Boiled. I might think you're turning soft. (?) Er, listen. There's something I gotta tell you. I...
Ginger: No. You'd better wait here.
MR. TWEEDY: Ooh! That's champion, that is. What is it?
MRS. TWEEDY: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.
MR. TWEEDY: Oh! What kind of pies?
MRS. TWEEDY: Apple. 
MR. TWEEDY: My favourite!
MRS. TWEEDY: Chicken pies, you great lummox! Imagine it! In less than a fortnight, every grocer's in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs Tweedy's home-made chicken pies.
MR. TWEEDY: Just "Mrs"?
MRS. TWEEDY: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.
MR. TWEEDY: Oh, right. How does it work?
MRS. TWEEDY: Get me a chicken and I'll show you.
MR. TWEEDY: I know just the one. 
[He begins to go outside and grabs Ginger.]
MR. TWEEDY: I've got a score to settle with you. 
[He takes her away into the farmhouse.]
BABS: Bloomin' heck! They've got Ginger!
BUNTY: We mustn't panic. We mustn't panic!
FOWLER: Quiet there! Quiet, I say! Let's have discipline, what, what, The enemy has taken a prisoner. This calls for retaliation! Retaliation!
[Rocky, hearing the commotion goes outside.[
ROCKY: What's going on? What's happening? What's going on?
BABS: They've got Ginger, Mr. Rhodes. They're taking her to the chop!
FOWLER: Well, what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there. Save her!
ROCKY: Of course. No. No. That's just what they'd expect. I say we give them the old element of surprise!
FOWLER: And catch Jerry with his trousers down. I like that. What's the plan?
ROCKY: The plan. The plan. The plan! Babs. Give me that. Bunty, give me a boost. (?) Whoa! Look at the size of that thing. (?) Oh, no!
MR. TWEEDY: Chickens go in, pies come out. Chicken pies. Not apple pies. Chicken.
Ginger: Oh, great. Brilliant!
ROCKY: Yo, baby doll!
Ginger: Rocky! 
ROCKY: I'm coming!
Ginger: Hurry!
ROCKY: I'm still coming!
Ginger: Come on! Stop this thing!
ROCKY: I'm getting there. Oh, shoot!
Ginger: Rocky!
ROCKY: I'll be down before you can say... mixed vegetables? (?) D'oh! Get it? Dough. 
Ginger: I'm stuck! 
ROCKY: Nothing to it. Oops.
ROCKY: Hang on.
Ginger: Look out!
BOTH: Whoa!
ROCKY: Yes! 
ROCKY: It's like an oven in here.
Ginger: Come on!
ROCKY: Wait up! I'm com... Don't leave! Get over to the...
Ginger: The door! Come on.
ROCKY: She's gonna blow! Run!
MRS. TWEEDY: What did you do, you great pudding?!
MR. TWEEDY: I didn't do owt!
MRS. TWEEDY: Turn it off! 
MR. TWEEDY: It won't turn off!
GINGER: We've got to show the others. Come on!
MR. TWEEDY: Look! I fixed it. Huh? (?)
BUNTY: Chicken pies?
GINGER: Yes, but...
BABS: I don't want to be a pie. I don't like gravy.
Ginger: Ladies, please, let's not lose our heads.
BUNTY: Lose our heads?
GINGER: What I meant to say was, Rocky sabotaged the machine and bought us more time. Better still, he's going to fly for us tomorrow. And once we've seen how it's done, we'll get it, I know we will. So don't worry. Tomorrow, everything will go much, much smoother.
ROCKY: All right, Pops, what did I do now?
FOWLER: A very brave and honorable deed, sir. In the light of your action this evening I... I dutifully admit that I have misjudged your character. I present you with this medal for bravery. And, I salute you! In honor of the occasion, I surrender the bunk entirely. I shall sleep under the stars. I await tomorrow's flying demonstration with great anticipation.
ROCKY: You and me both, Pops.
I'm sorry. Were you...? 
Is this your...? I'll go.
- No, no. Since you're here... 
ROCKY: I'm glad you're here.
- You go first. 
You go ahead.
GINGER: I just wanted to say I may have been a bit harsh at first. Well, what I really mean is, thank you... for saving my life. For saving "our" lives. You know, I come up here every night and look out to that hill, and imagine what it must be like on the other side. It's funny, I've... I've never actually felt grass beneath my feet. I'm sorry. Here I am, rambling on about hills and grass, and you had something to say.
ROCKY: Er, yeah. Erm... It's just that, you know, life, as I've experienced it, you know, out there, Ione free ranging and stuff, it's full of disappointments.
GINGER: You mean grass isn't all it's cracked up to be?
ROCKY: Grass. Exactly. Grass. It's always greener on the other side. And then you get there and it's brown and prickly. See what I'm trying to say? What I'm trying to say is... You're welcome.
GINGER: You know, that hill is looking closer tonight than it ever has before.
ROCKY: Ooh!
GINGER: Ahem. Well, good night, Rocky.
ROCKY: Good night, Ginger.
FOWLER: Company, atten... tion!
GINGER: Today's the day, girls. We're going to fly. I can feel it!
BUNTY: Finally, we get to see a real professional in action.
GINGER: Better start warming up. I'll go and get him. Rocky? Knock, knock. Everyone's waiting, so I told them to... Rocky?
[Ginger notice the medel on the pillow and the other half of the poster. She opens it, and realized what she saw. She went outside where the other chickens look with confused frowns as Ginger fits the piece onto the poster. It was revealed that Rocky was shot out of a cannon, not a flying rooster.]
MAC: Oh, a cannon. That would give you thrust.
BUNTY: I knew he was fake all along. In fact, I'm not even certain he was American.
MAC: So what's the next plan, hen?
GINGER: (upsetly) Let's face it. The only way out of here is wrapped in pastry.
BABS: (keeps knitting) Perhaps he just went on holiday.
BUNTY: Perhaps he just went to get away from your infernal knitting!
(Bunty snatches Babs' knitting tools from her hands, throws them on the mud and sinks them with her feet much to Babs' horror.)
MAC: (puts her notebook and pencil to the chickens to take care of them) You were always hitting him. See how "you" like it. (pushes Bunty to the other hens)
BUNTY: Don't push me, four-eyes!
(And they start to fight until the hens hold Bunty and Mac away from each other to avoid conflict.)
FOWLER: Quiet! Quiet, I say! Dissension in the ranks, precisely what Jerry would have wanted. The old "Divide and conquer!" A proper squadron work together, just like we did in my RAF days. Jocko at the stick, Flappy at the map, Whizzbang at the tail end. Wing Co would give the call, hop in the old crate, chocks away! Wizard showing, wasn't it? That's how you get medals! (shows his aerial silver medal)
BUNTY: (grunts angrily) Will you shut up about your stupid bloomin' medals!
(Bunty pushes the hens who were holding her and then slaps Fowler's medal away right next to an upset and depressed Ginger into the mud as everyone except for Ginger gasped.)
FOWLER: How dare you! (hits Bunty in the head with his staff) Madam, forgive me. As an officer, I offer my...
(Bunty punches Fowler in the beak knocking him out, and then she prepares to launch on him and then she tries to kill him, but Mac tries to stop her, but no avail, while Ginger looked at Fowler's medal, it changed her mind.)
Ginger: Fowler? Everyone, shut up! Fowler, what exactly is the RAF?
FOWLER: What do you mean, what is it? The Royal Air Force is what.
Ginger: Then what's the "old crate"?
FOWLER: Ah, there she is. Gorgeous, isn't she?
Ginger: You mean, you flew? In one of these?
FOWLER: Beautifully built. In fact, there's a bit of a story to that as well. We were out on a recce, you see. Ops gave the go-ahead, but the weather duffed up.
Ginger: Yes. Of course. We might actually be able to pull this off. We're still going to fly out of here.
FOWLER: What, what?
Ginger: Fowler's provided the answer. 
FOWLER: I have? Oh, yes, of course I have. How have I?
Ginger: We'll make... a crate. 
Ginger: Mac, you'll handle the engineering. Babs, manufacturing. Fowler will be chief aviation advisor. Bunty, eggs.
NICK: Eggs? 
GINGER: Eggs.
NICK: Right. Just like the ones that rooster was gonna lay. Only, roosters don't lay eggs, do they?
FETCHER: Don't they? 
NICK: No. It's a lady thing, apparently. Ask your mum.
GINGER: One egg per item on the list. First payment in advance.
BOTH: Right, when do we start?
NICK: Come on! (?) Oi!
MR. TWEEDY: What the dickens? Oh, gnomes now!
NICK: Voilá! (?) Eggs from heaven! 
FETCHER: No, from her bum.
MRS. TWEEDY: Idiot!
GINGER: That was close. Too close. We can't stop now. Come on, everyone, go for it. Really go for it. Go, go, go, go! Mac, we need those calculations, quick. Agnes, that has to be really secure. Careful up there, Fowler! 
FOWLER: Roger.
GINGER: Bunty, give him a hand. Well done, Babs. Keep it up.
BABS: No problem, doll face.
ROCKY: Oh, I'm the type of guy That likes to roam around
I'm never in one place I roam from town to town
And when I find myself falling for some girl
I hop right in the car... (?) Oh, boy.
MR. TWEEDY: Come on. Please!
GINGER: Oh, no! He's fixed it!
MRS. TWEEDY: Get the chickens.
MR. TWEEDY: Which ones?
MRS. TWEEDY: All of them! (?)
MR. TWEEDY: Me tools! Why, you thieving little buggers!
MAC: What's the plan?
GINGER: Attack! 
BUNTY: Nice plan.
MR. TWEEDY: Mrs. Tweedy! Mrs. Tweedy! The chickens are revolting!
MRS. TWEEDY: Finally, something we agree on.
MR. TWEEDY: Help! Mrs...
GINGER: Under the hut.
BABS: What have we done? 
GINGER: This is it, everyone. We're escaping! 
MAC: What, now?
GINGER: Now!
MAC: But Ginger, she's not ready... 
GINGER: Listen! We'll either die free chickens or die trying.
BABS: Are those the only choices?
GINGER: Let's do it! 
FOWLER: Scramble!
HEN: This way!
MR. TWEEDY: [muffled] Mrs. Tweedy!
NICK: The exits are located here and here. In the quite likely event of an emergency, put your head between your knees and...
FETCHER: Kiss your bum goodbye.
GINGER: All right, Fowler. Ready for takeoff.
FOWLER: Behind you all the way.
[Ginger looked to see Fowler at his seet.]
GINGER: But you're supposed to be up there. You're the pilot!
FOWLER: Don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption.
GINGER: But back in your day, the Royal Air Force.
FOWLER: 644 Squadron, Poultry Division. We were the mascots.
GINGER: You mean you never flew the plane?
FOWLER: Good heavens, no! I'm a chicken. The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of a complex aircraft!
HEN: We're all gonna die.
GINGER: Fowler, you have to fly it. You always talk about "back in your day". Well, today is your day.
BUNTY: You can do it, you old sausage.
FOWLER: Wing Commander TI Fowler, reporting for duty. Come on! What are you waiting for? Let's get this crate off the ground!
GINGER: Fowler, now!
FOWLER: Roger! Contact! (?) Cleared for takeoff! (?) Chocks away!
BOTH: Chocks away!
FOWLER: Full throttle!
MAC: Full throttle!
FOWLER: We need more power!
MAC: I cannot work miraclesm captain. We're giving her all she's got!
MR. TWEEDY: Gotcha! 
FOWLER: Hard right!
MR. TWEEDY: Ooh, Mother!
GINGER: Turn her around. I'll get the ramp.
[Ginger leaps down from the crate and runs to pull the ramp up.]
MRS. TWEEDY: Put the ramp down. You are going to be a pie!
ROCKY: Ginge-e-e-er!
GINGER: Rocky-y-y-y!
ROCKY: Heads up!
FOWLER: Look out! Clear the runway!
ROCKY: Ginger! Let's go!
HEN: We're flying!
GINGER: That's for leaving. And this is for coming back.
FOWLER: Great Scott! What was that?
MAC: A cling-on, captain! The engines can't take it!
GINGER: Oh goodness. Babs, scissors!
BABS: Bingo!
GINGER: Lower me down.
ROCKY: But Ginger... 
GINGER: Just do it!
FOWLER: Increase velocity!
BABS: What does that mean? 
BUNTY: It means pedal your flippin' giblets out!
GINGER: Lower! 
ROCKY: I'm trying!
GINGER: Fowler, look out!
ROCKY: Ginger! (?) Fire! Fire!
FETCHER: Oh, me Eggs!
ROCKY: More ammo! Hurry!
NICK: We got no more eggs!
ROCKY: Ginger, look out! (?) No-o-o-o! 
(?)
GINGER: Bye-bye. (?)
FOWLER: Bombs away!
MRS. TWEEDY: Mr. Tweedy!
ROCKY: Oh, that was good! That was good!
FOWLER: The old bird bought it!
(?)
MR. TWEEDY: Mrs. Tweedy! Mrs. Tweed... (?) I told you they was organised. (?)
GINGER: We did it, everyone!
FOWLER: Keep pedalling. We're not there yet. You can't see paradise if you don't pedal. Put your drumsticks into it. That's what I told them, what what, we were losing altitude, and heading for a fearful prang.
BABS: This is a lovely holiday. I'll be sad to go back.
MAC: Safety at all times is imperative. Wind her up and... Let her go.
ROCKY: So, is it as good as you imagined?
GINGER: No. It's better. Come on. I'll show you how to play cricket.
NICK: Here's a thought.
Let's get an egg and start our own chicken farm.
We'll have all the eggs we can eat.
FETCHER: Right. We'll need a chicken.
No. We need an egg first.
That's where you get the chicken.
Cobblers. Without a chicken, where do you get an egg?
NICK: From the chicken that comes from the egg.
FETCHER: But you need an egg to have a chicken.
NICK: But you get the chicken to get the egg.
Then you get the egg... the chicken out.
FETCHER: Hang on. Let's go over this again.
----
NICK: The egg, obviously. Rolling along, happy as Larry, then crack!
- Hatches into the first chicken. 
FETCHER: But where'd the egg come from?
NICK: What do you mean?
FETCHER: Egg comes rolling along, happy as Larry.
It's wondering, where'd it come from?
Without a chicken, you get no egg to come rolling along.
NICK: Without an egg, you get no chicken to lay the other egg that hatches into the chicken I mentioned.
FETCHER: We got two eggs now?
NICK: No, we're still talking about the first egg.
FETCHER: What about the first chicken?
It's in the first egg.
ROCKY: Er, guys? Guys? I'm trying to enjoy paradise over here.
- Sorry, guv. 
Beg your pardon.
- Won't happen again. 
ROCKY: Thanks.
- Gitface.
- Pillock.
NICK: Thinks he's such a big shot cos he's got his name on a poster.
Showbiz folk are all the same.
FETCHER: The rats are the stars.
NICK: We do all the hard work. He gets all the credit.
FETCHER: He gets everything. You said it, mate.
NICK: I know.
Category:Transcripts
Category:DreamWorks Animation Transcripts
Category:Universal Pictures Transcripts
Category:Aardman Transcripts
Category:Chicken Run
Category:Need Speakers
Category:Need Actions
Category:Articles in need of cleanup