"My tanks turn to the left and cut across your flank!"

"Ach, nein! All ist lost! But vait! I haf mines planted in zat area."

wobblestheclown scowled, and plucked one of the tanks from the gameboard. "The Hun has foiled us again, boys. But fret not! I have a cunning plan."

Herr Wozzeck glanced up. "You're using the Blackadder Gambit?" he asked, his accent dropping in surprise. "But that's-"

"Reckless? Dangerous? Almost impossible to pull off?" wobblestheclown picked up an infantry unit and pushed it forward, then grinned widely. "That's why I'm doing it. Over the top."

"Machine guns!" Herr Wozzeck cried. "Vere are my machine guns?"

"Out of position," wobblestheclown gloated. "Come on, chaps! Jerry's on the run!"

"..." Herr Wozzeck reached out and tipped over his own flag. "The field is yours, English pigdog. Though your uniform is stupid-looking."

"At least it's period appropriate," wobblestheclown sniffed. "I mean, really? A Prussian helmet? Take it off, Herr, really."

"You only noticed the helmet?" Herr Wozzeck stood abruptly, gesturing down at himself. "This is a complete, authentic Prussian uniform."

wobblestheclown rose in response. "Authentic to the wrong war! Take it all off!"

"Only if you do, too!"

"... yeah, all right."