[first lines, as Mr. Tweedy walks with a dog with a flashlight, shaking the lock, then he continues walking, then Ginger looks at Mr. Tweedy walking with a dog, looking at Mr. Tweedy with a dog, then ducking, then she continues looking at Mr. Tweedy with a dog, then running to the fence, grabbing a spoon, then the dog looks at Ginger, digging dirt, then the flashlight look around, then she continues digging dirt, then putting the spoon down, then crawling under the fence, then running to the wall, then putting his hand out, then the chickens appear, then they all run to the fence]
[Babs whimpers, the Bunty tries to get out of the fence, then Mr. Tweedy looks]
Bunty: I'm stuck!
Ginger: [sighs, then they all try to get Bunty out, then putting the mouth on, then they continue trying to get Bunty out] Get back.
[they all pull, then Ginger pushes Bunty, then they all flip to the ground, then Ginger runs away by the dog, then they all look at Ginger running away from the dog, then stops, then she continues running away from the dog, running up the stairs, then the dogs walk up the stairs, walking backwards, touching a gnome, then the dogs continue walking up the stairs, then grabbing a gnome, then eating the head, then walking backward, then opening a door, then they all look, then Mrs. Tweedy appears]
Mrs. Tweedy: Mr. Tweedy.
Mr. Tweedy: Eh?
Mrs. Tweedy: What is that chicken doing outside the fence?
Mr. Tweedy: Oh! [chuckling, grabbing Ginger] I don't know, love. I...
Mrs. Tweedy: Just deal with it. Now! [closing the door]
Mr. Tweedy: [takes Ginger, walking to the bin, opening it] I'll teach you to make a fool out of me. [throws Ginger, then closing the top] Now let that be a lesson to the lot of ya! No chicken escapes from Tweedy's farm! [walks away, then the title card appears]
[Ginger uses a nail to draw a line on the tally mark, sitting down, then they all sleep, then getting up, then taking the eggs, then checking the checkmarks down for Tuesday, then putting eggs in, then opening a door with leaves blowing in, then getting up, walking out, then pointing to the gate, walking down, then opening a gate, kicking Ginger, closing the gate, walking into hut 17, pulling the paper down, then they all gasp, then Mr. Tweedy pushes a cart, then Ginger walks to Mr. Tweedy, then they run, running backwards at the chicken, hitting the chickens, then opening a door, then Ginger lands by the door, looking, then then all hit the gate, gasping, then hitting the gate again, showing feet, then walking down, then Mr. Tweedy appears, then Ginger falls down, screaming, closing the top, then Mrs. Tweedy shows the egg with a pencil, drawing the line on an Egg Yield paper, then opening the door, kicking Ginger, closing the gate, then showing the paper, then they move out, then opening the floor, then going in underground, then dinging the spoon two times, then the the cart rolls down, then using a whisk to dig out the dirt, looking around, then getting out, walking by the dog, flying in the bin, closing the top, then kicking Ginger, closing the gate, then pulling the wood with the chicken falling down, showing the paper, then opening the gate, then they all walk in a Mrs. Tweedy costume, then the dogs look at a Mrs. Tweedy costume, ripping the gown, then they all look at the dogs, then they all scream, then the dogs knock the chickens over, falling down, then they all walk to the gate, closing the gate door, with a face running in gate, showing feet, then Mr. Tweedy puts Ginger in the bin, then they close the top, then Ginger throws a tennis ball by bouncing around, then opening the door, kicking Ginger]
Babs: Morning, Ginger. Back from holiday?
Ginger: I wasn't on holiday, Babs. I was in solitary confinement.
Babs: Oh, it's nice to get a bit of time to yourself, isn't it?
[they hear a bell]
Fowler: [walks down, clears his throat] Roll call! Come along now. You'll be late for parade. Pip, pip. Quick march. Left, right, left, right. Left, right, left, right! Come on. Smarten up. Discipline! Order! Back in my R.A.F. days when the senior officer called for a scramble, you'd hop in the old crate and tallyho. Chocks away!
Bunty: Giver over, you old fool. They just want to count us.
Fowler: Oh, how dare you talk back to a senior ranking officer. Why, back in my R.A.F. days...
Ginger: Fowler, they're coming. Back in line.
Fowler: Oh, right, right.
[the chicken lays down, then Mrs. Tweedy walks down]
Fowler: There will be a stern reprimand for you, lad. You're grounded. Attention!
[Mrs. Tweedy opens the gate, then walking down]
Mac: Welcome back, hen. Is there a new plan?
[Mrs. Tweedy takes a glover, then taking the paper to a chicken, then stretching a glove, then they all gulp]
Mac: I thought we tried goin' under.
[takes the paper back and forth]
Mac: Ah! Over. Right.
[Mr. Tweedy takes a clipboard to Mrs. Tweedy, walking down]
Ginger: How's the egg count?
Bunty: I've laid five eggs this morning. Five! Well-chuffed with that, I was...
Mrs. Tweedy: [points at the clipboard, saying, "Egg Production Record", pointing a red circle on 282] Oh, no. Edwina.
Ginger: Bunty, why didn't you giver her some of yours?
Bunty: I would have. She didn't tell me. She didn't tell anyone.
[Mr. Tweedy grabs Edwina, walking down, closing the gate]
Babs: Oh, is Edwina off on holiday?
[they take Edwina, with Ginger looking, then Mrs. Tweedy takes Edwina, walking up, grabbing an ax, putting Edwina down, then raising the ax, then cutting Edwina, then sitting down, then looking at the geese flying]
Ginger: [sighing] We've got to get out of here.
Mac: Ginger! Are we still on?
Ginger: Oh, we're on, all right. Spread the word, Mac. Meeting tonight in hut 17.
[they walk down, knocking the door, then Ginger looks, closing the window, then they go in, grabbing the chicken, closing the door, then Nick knocks on the door, then Ginger opens a window]
Nick: You called? Nick and...
Nick: At your service.
Ginger: [opens the door, looking at Mr. Tweedy] Over here.
[they all walk down]
Ginger: We need some more things.
Nick: Right you are, miss.
[opens suitcase and pulls out thimbles]
Nick: How about this quality handcrafted tea set?
Ginger: Uh, no.
Fetcher: Or this lovely necklace and pendant?
Ginger: It's love...
Nick: [holding a shuttlecock] Or this beautiful little number, all the rage in the fashionable chicken coops of Paris. Simply pop it on like so... [pops it on Ginger's head, feathers side up] ...and as the French hens say, "Voila!"
Fetcher: That's French.
Nick: That's two hats in one, miss. For parties... [turns shuttlecock over] ...for weddings. Oh, but madame, this you look like a vision, like a dream.
Fetcher: Like a duck.
Ginger: No, thank you. We're making this. We need these things. Can you get them?
Nick: Oh, oh, oh, this is a big job, miss. Oh, bigger than the others. No, no. This is gonna cost.
Ginger: Same as always. One bag of seed. [takes a bag to Nick]
Nick: You call this pay?
Fetcher: It's chicken feed.
Ginger: What else could we give you?
Ginger: We can't give you our eggs. They're too valuable.
Nick: And so are we. [grabs a suitcase, tossing a bag to Ginger] After you, Fetcher.
Fetcher: After I what?
Nick: Move! [pushes Fetcher]
[cut to Mr. Tweedy, looking out the window]
Mr. Tweedy: [sitting down] Hmm.
Mrs. Tweedy: [typing]Twenty-two and nine. Fourteen shillings of threepence. Seven and sixpence times three. Two and nine. Fourpence halfpenny. D-oh! Stupid worthless creatures! I'm sick and tired of making minuscule profits. [looks at a magazine, saying, "Sick And Tired Of Making Minuscule Profits?", moving the papers away, saying, "Turn Your Chicken Farm Into A Goldmine", opening the magazine, then looking at a man holding a bag, saying, "I'm Rich!"]
Mr. Tweedy: Oh, yes. Those chickens are up to something.
Mrs. Tweedy: Quiet. I'm onto something.
Mr. Tweedy: [looks at Ginger] They're organized. I know it.
Mrs. Tweedy: I said, quiet.
Mr. Tweedy: That ginger one. I reckon she's their leader.
Mrs. Tweedy: [losing her patience, slamming her fist on the table] Mr. Tweedy!
[Mr. Tweedy takes the binoculars off]
Mrs. 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: [stammering] But... But...
Mrs. Tweedy: It's all in your head, Mr. Tweedy. Say it!
Mr. Tweedy: 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!
[cut back to Ginger, slamming her gavel on the table three times]
Ginger: [on microphone] Order! Order! Quiet, everyone. Settle down. I would like to call to order... Please, if you could just settle...
Fowler: [slamming on the table] Let's have some discipline in the ranks! What, what!
Ginger: Thank you, Fowler.
Fowler: In my R.A.F. days, we were neverowed to waster time with unnecessary chitchat.
Ginger: Yes, thank you, Fowler.
[the chickens blink their eyes]
Fowler: Right! [chuckling, clearing his throat, putting his hand up and down] Carry on.
Ginger: Now, I know 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 tried going under the wire and that didn't work. So, the plan is, we go over it.
[they all look at a catapult]
Mac: [holding a chicken turnip] This is us, right? We get in like this. Wind her up and, let her go!
[the catapult shoots the chicken turnip, then Fowler ducks, then the chicken turnip flies in the wall, then they all gasp and scream]
Fowler: Good grief! The turnip's bought it!
Chicken: Farmer's coming! [blows whistle]
[the chickens all run, sliding the paper in the bed]
Fowler: Operation Cover-up!
[the chicken puts a blanket on Fowler, flipping the table, then closing the paper, then the chicken jumps in the floor, holding a teapot, then burning the finger, then Mr. Tweedy looks at the chickens, then he continue looking at the chickens, looking at a teapot, and the chicken, then the blanket lands on the teapot chicken, then clucking]
Mrs. Tweedy: Mr. Tweedy!
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh. Ouch.
Mrs. Tweedy: Where are you?
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh. It's all in your head. It's all in your head. It's all in your head.
[the chicken looks out the window, putting his thumb out]
Ginger: [gets down] Think, everyone, think. What haven't we tried yet?
Bunty: We haven't tried not trying to escape.
Babs: Hmm. That might work.
Ginger: What about Edwina? How many more empty nests will it take?
Bunty: Perhaps it wouldn't be empty if she'd spent more time layin' and less time escapin'.
Ginger: So laying eggs all your life, and then getting plucked stuffed and roasted is good enough for you, is it?
Babs: It's a livin'.
Ginger: You know what the problem is? The fences aren't just round the farm. They're up here in your heads. There's a better place out there somewhere beyond that hill, and it has wide open spaces and lots of trees, and grass. Can you imagine that? Cool, green grass.
Chicken: Who feeds us?
Ginger: We feed ourselves.
Chicken: Well, where's the farm?
Ginger: There is no farm.
Babs: Then where does the farmer live?
Ginger: There is no farmer, Babs.
Babs: Is he on holiday?
Ginger: He isn't anywhere. Don't you get it? There's no morning head count, no farmers, no dogs and coops and keys, and no fences.
Bunty: In all my life I've never heard such a fantastic, load of tripe! Oh, face the facts, ducks. The chances of us gettin' out of here are a million to one.
Ginger: Then there's still of chance. [walks away by Bunty, closing the door, then Fowler lays down on the ground, then she continues walking out, putting hands together, sobbing] Oh, no, oh, no, oh, no. What am I doing? Who are you trying to fool? You can't lead this bunch of... [bangs on the fence, grunting, putting hand on the fence] Oh, heaven help us.
Rocky: [escaping from the circus, shouting] Freedom! [continues flying, looking at Ginger, spinning on the vane, bouncing on the wires, then flying in the tray, next to Ginger] Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. You've been a wonderful audience. [the tray lands on Rocky, with the poster flying up]
Mrs. Tweedy: Oh, yes.
[Mr. Tweedy looks out the window, the the poster lands by Ginger, looking at a poster]
Ginger: That's it. Get him inside quickly.
[the dogs continue walking down by Mr. Tweedy, then the chickens close the curtain, turning on a lantern, showing a poster, saying, "Rocky The Flying Rooster"]
Ginger: This is our way out of here.
Babs: We'll make posters?
Ginger: No. What's on the poster, Babs. What's on the poster. We'll fly out!
Babs: He must be very important to have his picture taken. What do you suppose he does?
Bunty: Isn't it obvious? He's a professional flying rooster. He flies from farm to farm, giving demostrations.
Babs: Do you suppose?
Bunty: Oh, absolutely.
Rocky: Not in the dark, no. No, not in there. No. Get out. Good. Gotta get... [muttering, then looking at the chickens, gasping] Who are you? Where am I? What's goin' on? Ouch! What happened to my wing?
Ginger: You took a rather nasty fall.
Mac: And sprained the anterior tendon connecting your radius to your humerus. I gave it a wee bit of a tweak, Jimmy, and wrapped her up.
Rocky: Was that English?
Ginger: She said you sprained your wing. She fixed it.
Babs: I made the bandage.
Bunty: I-I carried you in.
[they all chatter]
Rocky: Whoa. Whoa. Whoa! Whoa. [chuckling] Let's back up and start from the top. Where am I?
Ginger: You're right. How rude of us. We're just very excit... This is a chicken farm.
Babs: And we're the chickens. [winks]
Rocky: Yeah, with you so far. Chicken farm, chickens...
Fowler: I don't like the look of this one. His eyes are too close together.
Ginger: Father, please.
Fowler: And he's a Yank!
Rocky: Easy, Pops. Cockfighting's illegal where I come from.
Bunty: And where is that exactly?
Rocky: Just a little place I call the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Rocky: No! America.
All: Oh! America.
Fowler: Poppycock. Pushy Americans. Always showing up late for every war. Overpaid, oversexed and over here! [closing the door]
Rocky: Hey, what's eatin' Grandpa?
Ginger: Oh, don't mind him, Mister... Mister?
Rocky: The name's Rocky. Rocky the Rhode Island Red. Rhodes for short.
Chicken: Rocky Rhodes?
Rocky: [takes a cup] Catchy, ain't it?
Ginger: Um, Mr. Rhodes, is this you?
Rocky: Uh, 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.
[the chickens chuckle]
Rocky: Well, then, call me a miracle, doll face, 'cause that's me.
[the chickens clap]
Chicken: And what brings you to England, Mr. Rhodes?
Rocky: Why, all the beautiful English chicks, of course.
Bunty: [Bunty kicks Rocky, spitting water out] Give over!
Rocky: You see, I'm a traveler by nature. I did that whole barnyard thint for a while, but I couldn't really get into it. Hi. How are you? Nope.
[the chicken lays down]
Rocky: The open road. That's more my style. Yep, just 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.
[the chickens clap]
Rocky: Isn't that great?
Ginger: I knew it was possible.
Rocky: Oh, it's possible, all right.
Ginger: I knew the answer would come.
Ginger: We're all going to fly over that fence, and Mr. Rhodes is going to show is how, right?
Rocky: That's... 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. [runs away]
Babs: He must have very good hearing.
Rocky: Okay, okay, where's the exit?
Ginger: Ah, this way. Mr. Rhodes, um, 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 that 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 in this place 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. I will be leaving that way.
Ginger: But, Mr. Rhodes?
Rocky: [singing] I'm the type of guy.
Rocky: [continues singing] That likes to roam around. I'm never in one... [looks at a truck driving, gasping, the he runs down, then opening the door, then the man gets out, closing the door]
Ginger: [looks at a truck, saying, "Circus"] So that's it. You're from the circus.
Ginger: You're on the run, aren't you?
Rocky: [grabs Ginger] You wanna 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 squawks, then they look at Rocky holding Ginger's mouth]
Rocky: Hey, hey, hey! What kind of crazy chick are you? Do you know 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.
[Ginger continues squawking]
Mrs. Tweedy: He's valuable, you say?
Mrs. Tweedy: Get the torch.
Rocky: Now you listen here, 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!
[Rocky gasps, then looking at the man, Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy]
Ginger: Fancy that. They're coming this way.
Rocky: Oh, no, no. No. Oh, no. They're on to me.
Ginger: Teach us how 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 looks at Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy, opening a gate, grabbing Rocky, standing by a wall, then Mrs. Tweedy walks, then looking at Ginger and Rocky]
Rocky: Time to make on that deal, doll...
Ginger: The name is Ginger. [knocks on the wall]
[they grab Ginger and Rocky, then opening a top, looking at the chickens, and Bunty, closing the top]
Ginger: [to Rocky, opening a floor] Comfortable?
Rocky: Not really.
Ginger: Maybe this will help. [gets Rocky out]
Rocky: [grunts] 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: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right, right, right. Don't worry. I'll teach you everything I know. Now, which bunk is mine?
[they all shout and wave]
Fowler: Absolutely outrageous! Asking a senior officer to share his quarters, and with a noncommissioned Yank, no less. Why, back in my day, I'd never...
Rocky: Hey! You weren't exactly 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! Just... What's that smell? Is thwt your breath? It's absolutely outrageous.
[they all chatter]
Rocky: So you wanna fly, huh? Well, it ain't gonna be easy, and it ain't gonna happen over night 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. [licks his finger]
Fowler: Codswallop! [goes inside hut 1, closing the door]
Rocky: Now, the most important thing is we have to work as a team...
[they all nod]
Rocky: ...which means, you do everything I tell you. Right! Let's rock and roll!
[the chickens wave hands up and down while exercising, then putting hand up while holding, spinning his hand, spinning their feet, then they do push-ups, except Ginger, then looking at Rocky, laughing, then they do fighting skills, then they continue doing push-ups, except Babs, then Mr. Tweedy looks at the chickens doing push-ups]
Mr. Tweedy: Mrs. Tweedy! The chickens are... Pecking?
[the clipboard hits Tweedy's head]
Rocky: And left, two, three. And right, two, three. And, stop right there. Oh, yeah, down. Down. Yeah, yeah, make little circles. That's it. Faster.
[the chickens spin around]
Rocky: Faster. Oh, yes. Perfect. [in a bathtub] Oh, that's the spot. [sighing]
[Ginger clears her throat, then the chicken puts the fan behind his back, then they all walk away]
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 around in circles.
[the chickens continue spinning around]
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.
[Babs knocks Bunty, then they lay down]
Rocky: Up and at 'em, gals. Let's flap.
[the chicken flaps his wings, then running down]
Nick: Watch, Fetcher. Let's see if old Attila the Hen has come to her senses.
[the chicken falls to the ground by Nick and Fetcher, then they run away, with the chicken falling down]
Fetcher: It's raining hen!
[the chicken falls down, then Babs falls down, then getting up, knitting]
[they both walk down, then the chickens run on a conveyor belt like a treadmill, then Mac loeses control, flying down, then they jump on a pillow]
Nick: Hey! Careful of those eggs!
[they both laugh, then Bunty runs by holding a chicken, throwing in a kettle]
Nick: Sunny-side up.
[the chicken throws Mac, laying down]
Fetcher: Now they're over easy!
[the chicken spins a chicken, digging in]
Nick: Definitely scrambled.
[the chicken runs on a roof]
Rocky: Go! Go! Go! Go, go, go, go! Go!
Nick: Poultry in motion! [laughing]
[Ginger runs on a building to Rocky, flapping her wings, landing on the chickens, then they chatter]
Fetcher: Birds of a feather flop together.
[Ginger falls down with the chickens, with feathers flying up]
Rocky: Great work, ladies. Great work! The pain you're feeling is a good thing. It's good. Pain is your friend, okay? It's a positive thing. Just keep the faith there, uh... What was your name? Agnes! You'll get there. Ducky, I think you flew four feet today.
Nick: Right, four feet! From the roof to the ground.
[they both laugh]
Rocky: It's all part of the process, ladies. Nothing to worry about.
Nick: [whispering] Ya cheese-eating little...
Rocky: Whoa! That doesn't sound good. Ha, ha, ha. Okay, the ground's shaking. Are we worried? Are we worried?
[the truck appears, blowing the wind away]
Rocky: 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. [stammering] Now, see here! This is an officer's quarters.
Ginger: Quick. In here.
Fowler: Get out of here immediately, sir!
Rocky: Give it a rest, Pops.
[Ginger closes the door to Rocky]
Fowler: Well, get out of here! I shall have you on a charge within the week.
[the chickens look to watch the truck drive, saying, "Poultry Products Ltd. Est. 1901", then Mr. Tweedy follows the truck, then stops, then lifting the barrels and crates, with Mrs. Tweedy writing, then Mr. Tweedy follows the barrels and crates, putting the crates and barrels down, then the chickens look in a binoculars, looking at the truck driving away]
Mr. Tweedy: Cheers, mate.
[the chickens put the binoculars down, putting the binoculars away, then they all whistle]
Mr. Tweedy: It's all in your head. It's all in your head. It's all in your head. [uses a hook to open the crate]
[Mrs. Tweedy grabs a blade]
Mr. Tweedy: What... What... What's all this then?
Mrs. Tweedy: [spins a blade] This is our future, Mr. Tweedy. No more wasting time with pretty 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: [to Mr. Tweedy] Poor! Worthless. Nothings. But all that's about to change. [shows a blade] This will take Tweedy's farm out of the dark ages, and into full-scale automated production.
[the blades pop out, gasping]
Mrs. Tweedy: Melisha Tweedy will be poor no longer. [puts a book on Mr. Tweedy, saying, "Instruction Manual"]
Mr. Tweedy: I'll put it together then, shall I?
[Mrs. Tweedy cloeses the doors, walking away]
Ginger: This isn't good, Mac. Whatever's in those boxes is for us, and I don't it's softer hay.
Mac: Aye, hen. And I hate to be the voice of doom, but I've been calculating my figures, and I just don't think we're built for flyin'.
Ginger: But I saw him. He flew in over that fence.
Mac: Aye, aye, I believe you, but if we could just see it for ourselves, that may answer some questions.
Ginger: You're right. I'm sorry. We've been at this week, and we're getting nowhere. If his wing were better, he could... Oh! I'll have a word with him. [walks away by Mac, looking at a door opening] Where is he?
Fowler: They didn't give me this medal for being a Yank nanny.
Ginger: A simple "I don't know" would sacrifice.
Fowler: Beware of that one, young Ginger. That Yank is not to be trusted.
Ginger: That Yank is our ticket out of here.
Rocky: And the pig says to the horse, "Hey, fella, why the long face?"
[they all laugh]
Rocky: Oh, oh, look, look. [drinks water, then putting a feather in] Oh. Cocktail!
Bunty: Give over!
Rocky: [spits water out at the chickens, gasping] So, um, anyway... Remember those flying tips tomorrow. They're very important. Keep thinking those flighty thoughts.
Bunty: Oh, yeah.
Rocky: They're swell chicks. They really are. Look at what Babs made me. A beak warmer. Isn't that the cutest? And that Bunty. [laughing] She really packs a punch. Is there a problem here?
Ginger: Have we flown over that fence?
Rocky: Not quite.
Ginger: Then there's a problem.
Rocky: Hey. Good things come to those who wait, doll face.
[Rocky wipes his face, wiping with a towel]
Ginger: Okay, 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? The point is, these things take time.
Ginger: Which we are rapidly running out of. We haven't even lifted off the ground. Why?
Mac: Thrust. I went over my calculations, and I figured the key element we're missing is thrust.
Rocky: I-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 usin' real words.
Ginger: She said we need more thrust.
Rocky: Oh, thrust. Well, of course, we need more thrust. Thrust and flying are like this. That's flying and that's thrust.
Ginger: Would you excuse us?
[Ginger grabs Rocky]
Rocky: Ah, the wing, the wing, the wing.
Ginger: If we don't see some 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, flyboy.
Rocky: You're the first chick. I ever met with the shell still on. Sleep tight, angel face. The Rock's on the case. [clicks tongue, winks]
Nick: Oh, it was a beaut, guv'nor. Hmm? A fine piece of work, if I do say so meself.
Fetcher: I say so meself too.
Rocky: I wish I could have 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 Nobert. 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, don't. Stop it.
Fetcher: I've gone bright red.
Nick: So, uh, how about them eggs?
Ginger: Eggs? Don't tell me you promised them...
Rocky: Yep! Promised them every egg I lay this month.
Nick: And when can we expect the first installment?
Rocky: I'm brewing one up as we speak, guys. I'll keep you posted.
Nick: Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Sucker.
[they both walk away]
Ginger: You've lied to them.
Rocky: I didn't lie, doll face. I just omitted certain truths. I'll give them exactly what I promised.
Ginger: Which is nothing.
Rocky: Which is what I'll give them.
Ginger: And what will you give us?
[the cart pulls the belt back with Bunty, saying, "Buy Stevenson's Roquette"]
Rocky: You okay, sweetheart? Good, good. Now this is just a little helper. Something to get you going. It's a thrust exercise.
Fetcher: The tension's killing me.
Nick: It's gonna kill her!
[the chickens let the cart go, then going faster, then Bunty continues going faster]
Ginger: Come on! Flap!
[Bunty flaps her wings, passing by Nick and Fetcher]
Ginger: You can do it. Flap, flap, flap!
[the cart stops, then Bunty flies by the fence]
Ginger: Yes, yes, yes!
[Bunty hits the fence, taking the hat off]
Nick: Is that your first offense?
[Bunty lands by Nick and Fetcher, screaming, rolling down, crashing]
[they hear a bell ringing again]
Babs: Roll call! I haven't laid any eggs.
Rocky: Hide me.
Babs: Three days and not one. Oh, no!
Ginger: Why didn't you tell us, Babs?
Rocky: Hide me!
Babs: We've been so busy with the flying...
Chicken: They're coming!
Rocky: Hide me!
Ginger: Hide yourself! [walks down]
[they all walk in line, pointing to the bag, opening a gate, with Mrs. Tweedy walking down, whimpering, walking to Babs, twitching, holding her hand, gulping, stretching a scale, then wrapping around Babs, looking down]
Mrs. Tweedy: Double their food rations, Mr. Tweedy. I want them all as fat as this one.
Babs: [lays next to Ginger, holding her] All of me flashed before me eyes! It was really borin'.
[Mr. Tweedy dumps the chicken feed into the tray]
Babs: Chicken feed. My favorite!
[they all walk down to eat the chicken feed]
Ginger: Wait. Wait. [looks at the dog with Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy, honking Mr. Tweedy] No. Wait!
Ginger: 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.
[the chickens gulp their chicken feed]
Rocky: Whoa, whoa! Heavy alert. [laughing] 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'd 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 veen working like a real charm, hasn't it? Here's some free advice. You want them to perform? Tell them what they wanna hear.
Ginger: You mean lie.
Rocky: Here we go again. You know what you problem is? You're difficult.
Ginger: Why? Because I'm honest? I care about what happens to them, something I wouldn't expect a lone free ranger to know anything about.
Rocky: Hey. If this is the way you show it, I hope you never care about me.
Ginger: I can assure you, I never will.
[they both walk away, gasping, looking at the chickens, with Babs knitting, and Bunty dropping the chicken feed, holding on the wall, then looking at a knitting, then walking away, then cut to Ginger, sitting down, then Ginger walks in]
Ginger: What's all this?
Nick: Well, 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.
[the part breaks from a radio]
Fetcher: It's supposed to do that.
Rocky: It's perfect, guys.
Nick: And how's that egg coming?
Rocky: This is a double yolker.
[they both walk to Ginger, then "Flip, Flop and Fly" begins]
Ginger: I don't see what this has to do with...
Rocky: You will. We've been workin' too hard. Time to kick back a bit, shake those tail feathers.
Bunty: Look at him. Nellypodging around like a... Oh, good heavens. [taps her foot] What's happenin'?
Rocky: That's called a beat, sister. Feel it pulsing through your body?
Bunty: Oh, yes. Pulsing. Fancy that.
Rocky: Hey, well, go with it, baby.
Bunty: [dancing] Oh, my. Look! I'm going with it!
Babs: Bunty, what's got into you?
Bunty: Same thing that's got into you apparently.
[they both dance]
Rocky: Just go with the flow, gals! Let it go!
[they both dance with Rocky, then they all dance, then Fowler gets in]
Fowler: Now, see here. I don't recall authorizing a hop.
Bunty: Oh, shut up and dance. [grabs Fowler, then they both dance]
Nick: [to Fetcher, crying] What are you sobbing about, you nancy?
Fetcher: Little moments like this, mate. It's what makes the job all worthwhile.
[Nick puts the red light in]
Fetcher: Wanna dance?
Nick: Yeah, all right.
[the christmas lights turn on, then the chickens continue dancing, then running next to Rocky, then they continue dancing, then Nick and Fetcher dance, then Mac dances with the spoons, then Fowler dances with a rose, then they continue dancing, then swinging Babs around, flying to the the wall, screaming, then landing on a nest, then the music ends]
Babs: [giggling] Did you ses that? I flew!
Rocky: Attagirl, Babsy. Attagirl.
Ginger: Oh! Your wing. It's better.
Rocky: Well... How about that?
Ginger: Fantastic. You can fly for us tomorrow.
Rocky: Uh, uh, yeah, so it seems.
Babs: [jumping up, clapping] I flew! I flew!
Ginger: 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. Uh, listen, there's something I got to tell ya. I...
[the lights power out, then the radio turns off, then the group exclaim]
Ginger: No. You'd better wait here. [walks out]
[they all walk out by hearing the dogs, walking to the gate, then cut to the machine with Mr. and Mrs. Tweedy]
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh, that's a champion, that is. What is it?
Mrs. Tweedy: It's a pie machine, you idiot. Chickens go in, pies come out.
Mr. Tweedy: Ooh! What kind of pies?
Mrs. Tweedy: Apple.
Mr. Tweedy: My favorite!
Mrs. Tweedy: Chicken pies, you great lummox! Imagine it. In less than a fortnight, every grocers' in the county will be stocked with box upon box of Mrs. Tweedy's Homemade Chicken Pies.
Mr. Tweedy: Just Missus?
Mrs. Tweedy: Woman's touch. Makes the public feel more comfortable.
Mr. Tweedy: Oh, right. How does it work?
Mrs. Tweedy: [slaps Mr. Tweedy] Get me a chicken and I'll show you.
Mr. Tweedy: I know just the one.
[cut back to Ginger, walking backwards to the dog]
Mr. Tweedy: [grabs Ginger] I've got a score to settle with you.
Babs: Bloomin' heck! They've got Ginger!
[Mr. Tweedy continues taking Ginger, closing the gate, then the dog walks away]
Bunty: We mustn't panic. We mustn't panic!
[they all scream]
Fowler: Quiet there! Quiet, I say! Let's have some discipline, what, what. The enemy has taken a prisoner. This calls for retaliation! Retaliation!
Babs: [pointing] They got Ginger, Mr. Rhodes. They're taking her to the chop!
Fowler: Well, what are you waiting for, laddie? Fly over there. Saver her!
[the chickens stop screaming]
Rocky: Of course... No, no! No, that's just what they'd expect. But I say we give them the old element of surprise.
Fowler: And catch Jerry with his trousers down. I like the sound of that. What's the plan?
Rocky: The plan... The plan. The plan... Uh, Babs! [grabs a hanger] Give me that thing. Bunty, give me a boost. [the hanger puts on the wire, then zipping down like a zipline, going inside, looking at the machine] Whoa. Look at the size of that thing.
[Mr. Tweedy puts Ginger on a leg lock]
Rocky: Oh, no!
Mr. Tweedy: Chickens go in, pies come out. [chuckling] Chicken pies. Not... Not apple pies. Chicken!
Ginger: [tries to unlock the leg lock, gasping] Oh, great. Brilliant!
Rocky: Yo, baby doll!
Rocky: I'm coming!
Rocky: [the feet slip on] I'm still coming!
Ginger: Come on! Stop this thing!
Rocky: I'm gettin' there! [tries to get Ginger]
[the leg lock releases Ginger, falling down]
Rocky: Oh, shoot!
Ginger: [falling] Rocky!
Rocky: [the lever pulls down on] I'll be down before you can say... [gasping, looking at the vegetables falling down] ...mixed vegetables! [falls down, sliding down, looking at an arrow, saying, "Veg", then flipping another arrow, saying, "Meat", sliding down, then falling closer to the blades, holding on, sliding down into a dough] D-oh! Get it? Dough!
Ginger: I'm stuck!
Rocky: Nothing to it. Oops. [tries to get out of the dough]
[Ginger looks at a wheel, then they both scream, trying to get the feet out of the dough, then Ginger tries to get the feet out of a dough, then hopping to Ginger, then moving closer]
Rocky: Hang on! [grabs Ginger, then he grabs a chain, then they land on a flat dough]
Ginger: Look out!
[they hug, then making a dough into a shape, rising up, then they both gasp, sliding down, squirting the pies, then the vegetables land on Ginger and Rocky]
Rocky: Hey! Aha! [takes a carrot into the squirter, vibrating] Yes!
[they both give high-five, then the machine puts down the pie, showing arrows, then they pop out of the pie]
Rocky: Oh, it's like an over in here.
[the fires hiss, then they gasp, then the door starts to close]
Ginger: Come on!
Rocky: Wait up! I'm com... [lands in a pie]
[Ginger continues running away]
Rocky: Don't leave...
[Ginger continues running to the door]
Rocky: Get over to the... [lays down]
Ginger: [slides down, gasping, then Rocky continues shouting, then putting a wrench by the door, grabbing Rocky] The door! Come on! [grabs Rocky]
[they both continue running holding Rocky, then the wrench gets out of the door, then the door continues closing, then they both scream, with the green hat sliding off, then grabbing a green hat, then putting the green hat back on, then the drip lands on Ginger, then the squirt continues vibrating, then the gears vibrate, steaming]
Rocky: She's gonna blow! Run!
[they both run, leaving a wrench by the gears, then blinking in red, under the sign, saying, "System Blockage", then the arrow point at red in the machine, saying, "Gravy Pressure"]
Mrs. Tweedy: What did you do, you great pudding?
Mr. Tweedy: I didn't do 'owt!
[the machine continues steaming, then the part break from the gears, then squirting at Ginger and Rocky with the carrot flying, shooting the gears, falling down, then they slide down]
Mrs. Tweedy: Turn it off!
Mr. Tweedy: It won't turn off!
[they both continue running away by the gears, then they swing on a chain, opening a vent, landing on a box, then they lay down, then putting the sticker on Rocky, saying, "Mrs. Tweedy's Chicken Pies", then Ginger takes the sticker off of Rocky]
Ginger: We've got to show the others. Come on.
[Mr. Tweedy tries to turn off the machine, then Mrs. Tweedy unplugs the machine, grabbing a pie]
Mr. Tweedy: Look! I fixed it!
[Mrs. Tweedy throws a pie to Mr. Tweedy, then Ginger puts a sticker on, saying, "Mrs. Tweedy's Chicken Pies"]
Bunty: Chicken pies?
All: Ohh! Oh, no!
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?
[they all scream, then flapping wings, then the chicken lays on him]
Ginger: What I meant to say was, Rocky sabotaged the machine and and bought us more time. And better still, he's going to fly for us tomorrow. And once we've seen how's it done, we'll get it. So don't worry, because tomorrow everything's going to go much, much smoother.
Rocky: [opens the door, walking inside, looking at Fowler] All right, Pops, what did I do now?
Fowler: A very brave and honorable deed, sir. [clears throat] In the light of your action this evening, I... I dutifully admit that I have misjudged your character. So I present you with this medal for bravery. [chuckling, putting the medal on Rocky] And, I salute you. [puts his hand up and down]
[Rocky puts his hand up]
Fowler: In honor of the occasion, I surrender the bunk entirely. I shall sleep under the stars. [chuckling] Oh, uh, I await tomorrow's flying demonstation, with great anticipation. [walks out]
Rocky: You and me both, Pops. [looks at a medal]
[Ginger walks up to Rocky]
Ginger: I'm sorry. Were you...
Rocky: Is this your... I'll get down.
Ginger: No, no, it's just...
Rocky: No, I'm glad you're here, because...
Ginger: Since you're here... I'm sorry. You go first.
Rocky: You go ahead. I'll...
[they both sit down]
Ginger: Um, 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 just 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 rambling on about hills and grass, and you had something to say.
Rocky: Uh, y-y-yeah. Um, it's just that, y-you know, life as I've experienced it, you know, out there, lone free rangin' and stuff, it's, uh, it's full of disappointments and, uh...
Ginger: What, 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. You see what I'm tryin' to say?
[Ginger nods, then shakes her head]
Rocky: What I'm trying to say is... [sighing] ...you're welcome.
Ginger: You know, that hill is looking closer tonight than it ever has before. [the hand puts on Rocky's hand, then she clears her throat] Well, good night, Rocky.
Rocky: Good night, Ginger.
[Ginger sighs, then walking away, then Rocky looks at the paper]
Fowler: Company, attention!
Ginger: [uses a rock to hammer a nail] Well, today's the day, girls. We're going to fly! I can feel it!
[they all cheer and laugh]
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... [notices that Rocky isn't there] R-Rocky? [looks at a medal, walking down, grabbing a medal, then grabbing a paper, opening it, saying, "In Town For One Week Only", then walking down, putting it back in place, then hearing thunder, then it starts pouring rain, by the spoon,, then Rocky walks down, looking at the chickens, then walking away]
Mac: Oh, a cannon. Aye, that would give you thrust.
Bunty: I knew he was fake all along. In fact, I'm not certain he was American.
Mac: So, what's the next plan, hen?
Ginger: [sighing] Let's face it. The only was out of here is wrapped in pastry.
Babs: Perhaps he just went on holiday.
Bunty: Perhaps he just went to get away from your infernal knitting! [throws the knitting in the mud, wiping it down]
Mac: You were always the one that was always hitting him. See how you like it.
Bunty: Don't push me, four-eyes!
[they take the chickens back, yelling]
Fowler: Quiet there! Quiet, I say! Dissension in the ranks. Precisely what Jerry would have wanted. The old divide and conquer. A proper squadron work 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. That's how you get medals.
Bunty: Will you shut up about your stupid blooming medals!
[the medal lands on the mud]
Fowler: How dare you! [hits Bunty] Madam, forgive me. A-As an officer, I offer my most,
[Bunty punches Fowler into a mud, then they all gasp and shout, then groaning, then Bunty lands on Fowler, then they all attack, then looking at a medal, then grabbing a medal]
Ginger: Fowler? [looks at the chickens fighting] Everyone, shut up!
[the chickens stop fighting, then Babs holds the leg on her mouth]
Ginger: [clears throat] Fowler. What exactly is the R.A.F.?
Fowler: What do you mean, what is it? The Royal Air Force is what.
Ginger: Then what's the "old crate"?
Fowler: [opens a bin] Ahh! There she is. [grabs a paper] 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 n a "recce," you sure. Ops, had given 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 flh out of here.
Fowler: What, what?
Ginger: Fowler's provided the answer.
Fowler: I have? Uh, yes, yes, yes. Of course I have. Uh, how have I?
Ginger: We'll make a crate. Mac, you'll handle the engineering. Babs, manfacturing. Fowler will be chief aviation advisor. Bunty, 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 for every item on the list. First payment in advance.
Both: [simultaneously] Right! When do we start?
[the egg lands by Nick, then Fetcher slurps]
Nick: Come on!
[they both walk in gnomes]
Nick: [giggling] Hey.
[they both walk to Mr. Tweedy, fixing the machine]
Mr. Tweedy: What the dickens?
[they both walk out]
Mr. Tweedy: Oh, gnomes now.
[Ginger follows Nick and Fetcher, throwing the gnomes out]
[the gnomes break, the grabbing a wrench to Ginger]
Nick: Give me.
[they all take the tools, then Mr. Tweedy continues fixing the machine, then they all hammer to get the nails out, then using a hammer to take a nail out, then taking a broken wrench, then taking a nail out, then landing on a chicken, screaming, then Fowler takes the tools out of his pants, then Mr. Tweedy plugs the machine, putting a smoke on Mrs. Tweedy's face, then moving a clothesline by the dogs, then Nick and Fetcher get out]
Nick: All right, here.
[they take a blanket to the chickens, then they sew a blanket, cutting the blanket, then Babs cuts the blanket, squealing, then Mrs. Tweedy continues fixing the machine, then Bunty puts eggs in by Nick and Fetcher]
Nick: Eggs from heaven!
Fetcher: No! From her bum!
[Nick closes the eggs, laughing, then placing the woods on a table, placing a screw, then they hammer a screw, then putting a gear in the machine, then they saw back and forth, then he continues fixing the machine, then pushing a wrench, then putting a part in the machine, then putting a gear on, spinning, then they all cheer, putting a smoke, then hammer a nail, then the machine chugs, pointing the arrow on red, saying, "Gravy Pressure", pressing a button, then squirting at Mrs. Tweedy]
Mrs. Tweedy: Idiot! [kicks Mr. Tweedy]
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!
[they continue building, then Ginger walks out]
Ginger: Mac, take thoss calculations quickly.
Ginger: Agnes, that has to be really secure. Careful up there, Fowler!
Ginger: Bunty, give him a hand. Well done, Babs. Keep it up.
Babs: No problem, doll face.
[Ginger walks out, then looking at a poster, saying, "Rocky The Flying Rooster Chicken Spectacular", then cut to Rocky, riding a trike with a radio of the music of "The Wanderer" by Dion playing]
Both: [singing] Oh, I'm the type of guy who likes to roam around. That likes to roam around. I'm never in one place, I roam from town to town. And when I found myself fallin' for some girl, I'd hop right in the car.
Rocky: [stops singing, then pedaling backwards, looking at a sign, saying, "New Mrs. Tweedy's Chicken Pies It's The Woman's Touch!"] Oh, boy.
Mr. Tweedy: [puts a key in, turning] Come on. [rubs on a shoe mark on the back on his pants] Please.
[the machine starts chugging]
Ginger: Oh, no. He's fixed it.
[the machine continues chugging]
Mrs. Tweedy: [opens the door] Get the chickens.
Mr. Tweedy: Which ones?
Mrs. Tweedy: All of them. [turns the arrow, saying, "Max", chugging faster]
[they continue building, then Mr. Tweedy appears]
Mr. Tweedy: Me tools! Why, you thieving little buggers!
Mac: What's the plan?
[they both grin]
Ginger: [pointing] Attack! [attacks Mr. Tweedy]
Bunty: Nice plan.
[they all attack Mr. Tweedy]
Mr. Tweedy: Mrs. Tweedy! [walks backward with the chickens fighting, then they bring a rope to Mr. Tweedy] Mrs. Tweedy! The chickens are revolting!
Mrs. Tweedy: Finally, something we agree on.
Mr. Tweedy: Help! Mrs....
[Mac puts a bag in Mr. Tweedy's mouth, laying down on the ground, whining]
Ginger: Under the hut.
[they grab Mr. Tweedy]
Mac: Come on!
[they slide Mr. Tweedy in hut 8, then landing on Mr. Tweedy's head]
Babs: What have we done?
Ginger: This is it, everyone. We're escaping.
Mac: What, now?
Mac: But, Ginger, she's not ready.
Ginger: Listen. We'll either die free chickens or die trying.
[they all cheer]
Babs: Are those the only choices?
Ginger: Let's do it.
[they all run down, then they pull ropes, then they open, then the wheels land]
Fowler: This way!
[they put the plane together, putting wings on, pulling a wing, then they all pull a plane, moving the rackets, then they roll down, plugging the christmas lights, then they all go inside, then walking to Mac, looking at the plane]
Mr. Tweedy: [muffled shout] 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 good-bye.
Ginger: All right, Fowler, ready for takeoff.
Fowler: Behind you all the way.
Ginger: But you're supposed to be up there. You're the pilot.
Fowler: Oh, don't be ridiculous. I can't fly this contraption.
[the chickens gasp]
Ginger: Back in your day, the Royal Air Force...
Fowler: 6-4-4 Squadron, poultry division. We were the mascots.
Ginger: You mean you never actually flew the plane?
Fowler: Good heavens, no. I'm a chicken.
[they all gasp]
Fowler: The Royal Air Force doesn't let chickens behind the controls of a complex aircraft.
Chicken: We're all gonna die!
[they all scream and wail]
Ginger: Fowler, you have to fly it. You're always talking about back in your day. Well, today is your day.
Bunty: You can do it, you old sausage.
Fowler: [grabs a medal] Wing Commander T.I. Fowler, reporting for duty.
[they all cheer]
Fowler: Well, come on. What are you waiting for? We haven't got all day. Let's get this crate off the ground.
Ginger: Fowler! Now!
Fowler: Roger! Contact!
[they all pedal]
Fowler: Cleared for takeoff!
[they both raise a ramp, showing an arrow, saying, "This Way Up"]
Fowler: Chocks away!
Both: [simultaneously] Chocks away!
[the plane goes slower]
Fowler: Full throttle!
Mac: Full throttle! [pulls lever, then adding another gear, riding slower, then Ginger walks up to Fowler]
Fowler: We need more power!
Mac: I cannot work miracles, Cap'n! We're givin' her all she's got!
[they all continue pedaling faster, screaming, kicking the ramp]
Mr. Tweedy: Gotcha!
Fowler: Hard right!
[they all spin]
Mr. Tweedy: Oh, mother!
[the plane flies under Mr. Tweedy, laying down to the ground]
Ginger: Turn her around. I'll get the ramp. [gets out, running to the ramp, trying to raise up, with the plane flying away, grabbing the christmas lights]
Mrs. Tweedy: Put the ramp down.
Mrs. Tweedy: [the ax hits Ginger] You are going to be a pie!
Rocky: [rings a bike bell, riding] Ginger!
Rocky: [flies in slow motion, then attacking Mrs. Tweedy, then taking an ax out] Heads up! [the trike hits Mrs. Tweedy, flying the ax up, laying down, then stops, gasping, then the ax lands by Mrs. Tweedy, laying down, sighing, then Ginger sighs, then ringing a bike bell]
Fowler: Look out! Clear the runaway!
Rocky: [walks to Ginger, then they raise a ramp, gasping, then flying on a ramp with an arrow, saying, "This Way Up"] Ginger! Let's go! [grabs a christmas lights, then they climb up]
Chicken: We're flying!
[Mrs. Tweedy looks at the christmas lights, then Rocky climbs up, pulling up Ginger]
Ginger: [slaps Rocky] That's for leaving. And this is for coming back.
[they both try to kiss, then the plane continues flying, then they all scream]
Fowler: Great Scot! What was that?
Mac: A cling-on, Cap'n! And the engines can't take it!
[Mrs. Tweedy snarls, then they both scream]
Ginger: Oh, goodness. Babs! Scissors!
Babs: [looks for a knitting, toothbrush, lipstick, and scissors] Bingo.
Ginger: [takes a scissors] Lower me down.
Rocky: But, Ginger, I...
Ginger: Just do it.
Fowler: Increase velocity!
Babs: What does that mean?
Bunty: It means pedal your flippin' giblets out!
[Mrs. Tweedy takes the ax in her mouth, climbing up, then Ginger puts the scissors in her mouth, then she continues climbing up, then she tries to cut the christmas lights, then they continue pedaling, then she continues trying to cut the christmas lights]
Rocky: I'm trying!
[Mrs. Tweedy continues climbing up, then she continues trying to cut the christmas lights]
Ginger: Fowler, look out!
[he gasps, then Mrs. Tweedy flies to the sign, ripping the face, then the eggs dump out]
Rocky: [releases Ginger] Oh! Ginger!
[Ginger slides down to Mrs. Tweedy, taking her face off, snarling, then trying to cut, then grabbing the ax, then the eggs fire Mrs. Tweedy]
Rocky: Fire! Fire!
[they continue firing at Mrs. Tweedy]
Fetcher: Me eggs.
[they continue firing the eggs, then the ax knocks the scissors, falling down, then using a mouth to try to cut a wire]
Rocky: More ammo! Hurry!
Nick: We got no more eggs!
Rocky: Ginger! Look out!
[Mrs. Tweedy raises her ax, then Ginger stretches the wire, then cutting it in half, then Ginger ducks]
Ginger: [peeks out, looking at Mrs. Tweedy, except Rocky, then releasing her] Bye-bye.
[Mrs. Tweedy falls down]
Fowler: Bombs away!
Mrs. Tweedy: [flies in a window] Mr. Tweedy!
[they all cheer]
Rocky: Oh, that was good. That was good!
Fowler: The old bird bought it! [laughing]
Mr. Tweedy: [opens the door] Mrs. Tweedy! Mrs. Twee... [looks at the feet shaking in the pipe, saying, "Safety Valve Do Not Block", then rising up to Mrs. Tweedy, with the sign, saying, "Max Level", gasping, then blinking in red, saying, "Danger", then pointing at red, saying, "Gravy Pressure", then the chocolate continues rising up to Mrs. Tweedy, then closing the door, then the machine explodes, except the building, then opening a door, looking at Mrs. Tweedy and the dogs] I told you they was organized.
[Mrs. Tweedy growls, then the door lands on Mrs. Tweedy, screaming]
Ginger: We did it, everyone! [hugs Rocky]
[they all cheer, then Mac kisses Fowler, then they hug Bunty, then Nick and Fetcher hug, then grabbing Rocky, kissing]
[they continue flying down]
Fowler: Keep peddling! We're not there yet! You can't see paradise if you don't pedal! Put your drumsticks into it! [imitates an airplane] That's what I told him, what, what. We were losing altitude, you see, 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. Now, wind 'er up and, let 'er go!
Rocky: So, is it as good as you imagined?
Ginger: No. It's better. [hugs Rocky] Come on. I'll show you how to play cricket.
Nick: 'Ey, 'ey, here's a thought. Why don't we get an egg and start our own chicken farm? That way we'll have all the eggs we could eat.
Fetcher: Right. We'll need a chicken then.
Nick: No. No, we'll need an egg. You have the egg first. That's where you get the chicken from.
Fetcher: No, that's cobblers. If you don't have a chicken, where you gonna get an egg?
Nick: From the chicken that comes from the egg.
Fetcher: Yeah, but you have to have an egg to have a chicken.
Nick: Yeah, but you gotta get the chicken first to get the egg, and then get the egg, you get the chicken out.
Fetcher: Hang on. Let's go over this again.
[the screen puts up "The End"]
Nick: The egg, obviously. Rollin' along happy as Larry. Then, crack! Hatches into the first chicken.
Fetcher: Yeah, but where'd the egg come from, then?
Nick: What do you mean, where'd it come from?
Fetcher: Egg comes rollin' along, happy as Larry. It's wonderin', where'd it come from? Without a chicken, you get no egg to come rollin' along.
Nick: Well, conversely, without an egg to hatch into the chicken, there will be no chicken to lay the other egg that hatches into the chicken that lays the egg I mentioned in the first place.
Fetcher: So we got two eggs now?
Nick: No, we're still talking about the very first egg.
Fetcher: But what happened about the very first chicken?
Nick: He's in the very first egg! Aren't you listenin'?
Rocky: Uh, guys. Guys? Tryin' to enjoy paradise over here.
Nick: Oh, sorry, guv.
Fetcher: Beg your pardon.
Nick: Won't happen again. [chuckling]
Nick: [muttering] Gitface.
Fetcher: [muttering] Pillock.
Nick: Thinks he's such a big shot 'cause he's got his name on a poster. These show biz folk are all the same.
Fetcher: Yeah, the rats are the stars, actually.
Nick: Yeah, of course they are. We do all the work, he gets all the credit.
Fetcher: But he does get all the birds. Ye gets everything.