[Mr. Tweedy squints out the window and puts a pair of binoculars to his eyes. Continues to stare as he absently chews on a chicken drumstick. Past a half-eaten chicken carcass (most likely the remains of Edwina) on the dinner table to Mrs. Tweedy, seated at her corner desk, feverishly entering numbers on her hand-cranked adding machine.] [muttering under her breath]
Fourteen shillings and threepence..seven and sixpence...two and nine...fourpence ha‘penny... DOH! [crumpling her paper] Stupid, worthless creatures. I'm sick and tired of making miniscule profits.
[She glances down at the pile of mail on her desk. Beneath the pile, we see the top of a magazine. Mrs. Tweedy slowly slides the pile of mail away to reveal the rest of the magazine. Mrs. Tweedys eyes glimmer as she eyes the magazine and slowly lifts it to her face.]
Oh, yes. Those chickens are up to something.
Quiet. I’m onto something.
They're organized. I know it.
[whispering]
That ginger one - I reckon she's their leader.
[She slams her fist down on the desk]
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.
It’s all in your head, Mr. Tweedy. Say it!
It’s all in me head, it’s all in me head...
Now, you keep telling yourself that because I don’t want to hear another word about it. Is that clear?
Yes, luv. [on second thought] But you know that ginger one.
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!!
[cut to Ginger, slamming the gavel three times] [on microphone]
Order! Order! Quiet, everyone! Settle down! I would like to order... Please, if you could just settle--
Quiet here! [banging on the table] Let's have some discipline in the ranks! What, what!
In my R.A.F days, we were never allowed to waste time on unnecessary chitchat.
I... [pause] Right! [chuckling, clears throat, and saluting] Carry on.
Now, our last escape attempt was a bit of a fiasco. But Mac and I have come up with a brand new plan. Show ‘em, Mac.
Mac Right. We’ve tried going under the wire and that didnae work. So, the plan is -- we go over it. This is us, right? [putting a turnip in the catapult] We get in like this- wind ‘er up and let ‘er go!
[The turnip flies past Fowler and splats against the wall above his head. The chickens gasp and murmur.]
Good grief! The turnip's bought it!
Mac [The chickens are finding out on a poster that Rocky can't fly.]
Oh, a cannon. Aye, that would give you thrust.
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?
[sighs]
Let's face it. The only way out of here is wrapped in pastry.
Perhaps he just went on holiday.
Perhaps he just wanted to get away from your infernal knitting! [angrily snatches Babs' knitting and stamps it in the mud]
Mac You were always the one that was always hitting him. See how you like it! [pushes Bunty]
Bunty Don't push me, four eyes!
[They start fighting, but Fowler enters.]
Quiet there! Quiet, I say! Dissension in the ranks. Precisely what Jerry would have wanted. The old divide and conquer. A proper squadron works together, like we did in my R.A.F. days. Jocko at the stick, Flappy at the map, and old Whizzbang at the tail-end Charlie. WingCo would give the call, hop in the old crate, chocks away! Wizard show it was. [shows Bunty his air-force medal] That's how you get medals.
[enraged]
Oh. Will you shut up about your STUPID, BLOOMING MEDALS?!?!
[Bunty furiously slaps the air-force medal out of Fowler's hand and it lands in front of Ginger in the mud, the chickens gasp at it.]
HOW DARE YOU! [angrily hits Bunty with his cane, but then quickly retracts his actions, realising what he's done] Madam, forgive me. A-As an officer, I offer my most-
[Bunty punches Fowler, and all the chickens start fighting in the mud. Ginger sees the Air Force medal and picks it up.]
Fowler. [turns to the chickens fighting in the mud] Everyone! SHUT UP!
[All the chickens stop fighting, with Babs holding on the leg by the mouth, long pause] [clears throat]
Fowler, what exactly is the R.A.F.?
[pulls his face out of the mud]
What do you mean, what is it? [salutes] The Royal Air Force is what! [chuckles]
Then what's the "old crate"?
[Mr. Tweedy, sweating bullets, is once again trying to start the machine.] [under his breath]
C'mon. [groans] Please.
[Mr. Tweedy steps away from it, admiring his handiwork as the machine is now fully functioning.] [enters]
Get the chickens.
All of them. [switches to max level on the pie machine]
[The chickens' plane-building has just been discovered by Mr. Tweedy.]
Me tools! Why, you thieving little buggers!
Mac [whispers]
What's the plan?
[Mr. Tweedy stares down Ginger for a few seconds.]
ATTACK!! [Cut to close up Mr. Tweedy]
[as Ginger is doing literally that]
Nice plan!
[the chickens looks as they drop their tools. Cut to all of them swarming Mr. Tweedy.] [being attacked by the chickens]
MRS. TWEEDY! AHH! MRS. TWEEDY, THE CHICKENS ARE REVOLTING!
[sarcastically, not paying attention]
Finally, something we agree on.
[still being attacked by the chickens]
HELP! MRS.-- [muffled, falls down]
Under the hut! [The chickens shove him underneath a hut.]
Alright, Fowler! Ready for take-off!
But... you're supposed to be up there! [points to the cockpit] You're the pilot!
Don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption.
But... but back in your day. The Royal Air Force.
644 Squadron, Poultry Division! We were the mascots.
You mean you never actually FLEW the plane!?
Good heavens, no! I'm a CHICKEN! The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of complex aircraft!
H Hen
[The chickens hear this and start chattering in a panic.]
We're all gonna die!
You have to fly it. You're always talking about back in your day. Well, today is your day!
You can do it, you old sausage.
[Fowler pulls himself together, stands and salutes.]
Wing Commander T.I. Fowler reporting for duty. [The hens cheer; Fowler impatiently talks over them, heading for the cockpit.] Come on, what are you waiting for? Let's get this crate off the ground!
[manipulating levers]
Roger! Contact! [Chickens start peddling and the propeller starts spinning, saluting] Cleared for take off! [Three chickens hoist a ramp into place just in front of the fence, then scamper back toward the plane, calling down] Chocks away!
[The plane lurches forward down the runway.]
Full throttle.
Mac Full throttle! [pulls a lever]
[The wheels bounce along the rocky runway, lifting slightly, then touching back down. On the flying machine.]
We need more power!
Mac I cannae work miracles, Cap'n! We're giving her all she's got!
[The plane continues, wheels bouncing, getting closer and closer to the ramp, picking up speed, when all of a sudden. Willard Tweedy kicks the ramp down.]
Gotcha!
[The plane banks a hard right.]
Oh, mother! [But the tail knocks him in the head and knocks him to the ground. It’s now heading down the opposite direction on the runway.]
Turn it around. I'll get the ramp!
[Ginger leaps off the plane, runs down the runway to the ramp. She struggles and strains to lift it.] [coldly]
Put the ramp down. [ She swings her axe and it wedged into the ramp] You are going to be a pie! [hears a sound of a trike bell ringing] Huh?
[Ginger slaps Rocky]
THAT'S for leaving. [pulls him close] And THIS is for coming back.
[Loud nose occurs, the crate is pulled down slightly and the chickens scream]
Great Scott! What was that?!
Mac A cling-on cap'n! And the engines can't take it!
[Melisha Tweedy snarls Rocky and Ginger gasps]
Oh my goodness. Babs! Scissors!
[rumages through her handbag, throwing out a knit, a toothbrush, a lipstick, before finding the scissors]
Bingo!
It means PEDAL YOUR FLIPPIN' GIBLETS OUT!!
[Melisha Tweedy she climbs the lights]
LOWER!
[Melisha Tweedy she continue climbs the lights] [billboard]
FOWLER! LOOK OUT!
GINGER! [She raising her axe. But then Rocky starts firing eggs at Melisha Tweedy]
Oh, me eggs. [Ginger loses Babs' scissors]
[Snarling. Melisha Tweedy breaks the wire with her axe, and seemingly beheads Ginger]
NOOOOO!!! [after a moment of silence, she ducks and cover Ginger looks up at Melisha Tweedy, completely unharmed]
[Groans. Ginger reveals the severed Christmas lights in front of Melisha Tweedy]
HUH?!
Bye-bye! [Melisha Tweedy screams after her side of the wire is lets go]
[her last words]
MR TWEEDY!!! [All the chickens cheer for victory]
Oh, that was good, that was GOOD!
The Old Bird bought it! [laughing]
Mrs. Tweedy!, Mrs. Tweed-- [He then sees Melisha Tweedy shrieking and flailing in the blocked-up safety valve; inside, Melisha Tweedy sees the boiling gravy rising. As the machine begins malfunctioning, Willard Tweedy slowly backs away while closing the door, and the pie machine explodes in the distance, creating a mushroom cloud of gravy]
RA Rocky and Ginger
WHOA!
[Gravy leaks down the door, Willard Tweedy then opens the door to see Melissa Tweedy injured while the two guard dogs are happily licking up the spilt gravy] [his last words]
I told you they were organized. [Melisha Tweedy soon begins growling, and before she's about to reprimand him, she lets out a yelp as the now unsupported door falls flat on her.]
[The chickens celebrate]
We did it, everyone.
[The chickens continue to celebrate, Mac gives Fowler a big kiss on the cheek, Bunty hugs Babs, Nick tearfully hugs Fetcher, and Ginger grabs Rocky and finally gives him that big kiss. The pedalling chickens stop pedalling.]
KEEP PEDDLING! We’re not there yet! [The plane rises again and sails off toward the sunset] You can’t see paradise if you don’t pedal! Put your drumsticks into it. [hand-flying the plane through the air] That's what I told them, what what. We were losing altitude, you see, and heading for a fearful prang.
[She push the swing]
This is a lovely holiday. I’11l be sad to go back.
Mac Safety is at all times imperative. Now, wind her up and let her go.
