WWII, Nazis. I steal a BMW R75 motorcycle but I'm spotted and chased. Roaring through the streets of the port city I'm outraged when I hear shots being fired. Out of town now, country lane, but I'm out of petrol. I wheel the bike into a hedge and cover it with branches. Fuel, I must find fuel. There's a house nearby and I peer in the kitchen window, I see women's clothes hanging up to dry, so smash the window quietly with an elbow and let myself in. Hello, here's a chap with a golf club, I grab a kitchen knife and we have a stand off. We talk, Jean and I. He works on the local ferry and I explain I need to get to England. We come up with a plan - I'll impersonate him - we look similar and I just need to put on his clothes and cut my hair. Done. 'Ah,' says Jean, 'and there's the tattoo...' 'What tattoo?' I ask. He shows me a massive tattoo of his own face on his neck. With no choice we go the local tattoo artist in town and I get Jean's face inked on my neck. During the procedure Jean keeps trying to hold my hand, I think he's falling in love with me.
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