Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Series 2, Episode 6 - Alan Wide Shut

Caller (Mary): I think we’ll be giant super-beings, really.
Alan: We’re talking about what people will look like in a billion years time. Carry on, Mary.
Woman: I don’t think we’ll have hair, you see. I think we’ll be completely hairless.
Alan: Are you hairy, Mary?
Mary: No.
Alan: What?
Mary: No!
Alan: Right.
Mary: And I think at the end of the day, what will happen is, we’ll be more or less the same, but with bigger hands and eyes and sex organs.
Alan: I wonder what that will look like.
Mary: Look in the back of a spoon, in the bathroom.
Alan: Goodbye, Mary. Traffic!

(Horn Honks) Get out of the way you <bleep> idiot! You could get a bus through there you <bleep>! You stupid <bleep> <bleep>, let me through! (Horns Honk)

Alan: We’ve got a traffic report; I’m just going to get rid of that, it’s annoying. On the A146, just past Loddon, a lorry filled with livestock has jackknifed shedding its load over both lanes. Wonder what that looks like. Probably looks like something from “Saving Private Ryan”, but with animals.

Alan: Now listeners, I have someone on the line who fears he may be a gay. He’s married, so he wishes to remain anonymous. I shall only be using his Christian name. I’m talking to Domingo in Little Oakley. No? He’s gone. That’s a pity. Marvellous little tapas bar there. Well, we’re just coming up to two minutes to one so we might as well go to Dave Clifton.
Dave: Yeah, hello, Alan. How you doing? Alright?
Alan: Yeah. What’s that you’re reading?
Dave: Actually, it’s incredible. This is the biography of an East End gangster; it’s called “Bad Slags”. It’s amazing stuff. It’s incredible.
Alan: I think there’s another word for it, really. I think it’s saaa-aad that people  find it entertaining to read about men who call themselves things like Stan the Stabber, who chop peoples heads off, in half. Set fire to their eyebrows and knock peoples teeth out with a toffee hammer just because they couldn’t repay a loan at a very uncompetitive rate of interest.
Dave: Is your book in trouble with Stan the Stabber then, Alan?
Alan: What do you mean?
Dave: Well, no, it’s just that from what I hear all the unsold copies are being bundled into the back of a truck and driven to  big warehouse, where they’re going to be quite literally, pulped.
Alan: There’s only one word for people like you, Dave.
Dave: Yeah?
Alan: I’ll tell you tomorrow.
Dave: OK Here’s…
Alan: Friggers! That’s it! Friggers!
Dave: …Salt n Pepa.

Alan is in the static home with Sonja:

Alan: Hit me! Hit me Hit me with your rhythm stick. It’s nice to be a lunatic. Hit me. Hit me. Hit me. Only a few more nights in the caravan, Sonja. I thought we’d celebrate tonight by watching “Spartacus” with corned beef hash. Then afterwards we’ll make sweet love. Then I’ll drive you home.
Sonja: OK!
Alan: Actually, let’s bring the love-making forward. Come here. <Alan take a swig of Listerine mouth wash> Come here, you lucky, lucky lady. Oh, Lynn!
Lynn: Hello.
Alan: Hi. Just having some hygienic snogging.
Lynn: Right, I’ve nearly moved everything into the house. Oh, that’s for you <hands Alan a piece of paper>
Alan: What’s this?
Lynn: Oh it’s just an invitation to my baptism.
Alan: Baptism? Lynn, how will they get you up to the font? They’d need four men to lift you.
Lynn: No, no. It’s not a font, it’s a special pool that they lower you into.
Alan: Right. And if you sink, you’re a Baptist. And if you float, you’re evil? It’s touch and go.
Lynn: Alan, I just want you to stand by me with a towel to help me dry myself off.
Alan: Lynn, five minutes ago you were my PA and now you’re inviting me to some sort of religious wet T-shirt competition.
Lynn: Right. I’ve got you that “Bad Slags” book you asked for. And also, do you still want to do the radio show since all your books are being incinerated?
Alan: Yes, I do want to do the radio show, Lynn. And, the books aren’t being incinerated, they’re being pulped. My book could very well end up being reconstituted as a trestle table in a home for battered women. I’m putting something back.
Lynn: Still annoyed about that “Bad Slags” book?
Alan: I am. I don’t know why people buy this rubbish. About these East End thugs who lend you £100, and a week later you owe them a million. I’m not exaggerating. You buy a car off them and find out it’s two front ends welded together. You send off for an MOT and you get a note back saying they found some chap’s ribs in the oil sump. Or you take the lid off the gear knob and find a testis.
Lynn: Alan, the builders are waiting to sign off.
Alan: OK. I’m going to miss this caravan. I used to enjoy sitting here like this. Sometimes like this <changes position>. Sometimes I’d lean forward and watch the TV.
Lynn: Well…
Alan: Hang on, there’s a fourth position. Sometimes I used to like sitting here, like this… <shifts position again> … waiting for Sonja. Yeah, we had some good times on that banquette. <Alan’s mind drifts off>
Lynn: Alan? The Builders.
Alan: Yes.

Alan goes to speak to the builders in his new house:

Alan: Ahh, you’ve already made yourself comfortable on the banquette. Great.
Builder: Do you think it’s a bit tight in here?
Alan: Not really. People always go on about space, don’t they?, Oooh, it’s nice to have a bit of space. People forget, you can get lost in space. Could have done with a skylight, really. Oh well. I presume we’re all going to keep in touch, you know, now that the work’s finished? I’ve got you all a present, for your hard work. <Hand’s out copies of his book> I wont tell you what it is, it’s a surprise. <Lynn walks in> Lynn, what the frig have you got on your feet?
Lynn: Show covers.
Alan: You look like you live on a ward.
Lynn: I just got fed up getting my feet dirty.
Builder: They look like a pair of Action Man body bags!
Alan: Yeah, and it’s fine to join in.
John: They’re like baby bags for you feet. You know, if they want to sleep, or something.
Alan: Yeah, that’s sort of a development of what he said, isn’t it? But, you know, again, fine to join in. Carl, do you want to add anything about Lynn’s shoe covers? Perhaps say that they’re like a marquee for toes, or a foot tent, something like that?
Carl: No.
Lynn: Right, I’ve got some stuff for your bedroom. Have you decided which room it’s going to be?
Alan: Yes. Now. The bedroom. Down the corridor, last door on the left.
John: That’s the box room, Al. I mean that’s the same size as your bedroom in the caravan.
Alan: Is it?
Lynn: Yeah.
Alan: Fine. You know. Squeeze a double bed in there, and I can open the door and just step up onto the bed.
Lynn: Where are your clothes going to go?
Alan: In the storage room. Just a short, naked jog across the landing.
Lynn: What happens when you’ve got guests?
Alan: Lynn, I’ll cup myself. I don’t mean with an actual cup.
Carl: More like an egg cup!
Alan: It wouldn’t be an egg cup. It’d be two egg cups and a kidney dish.

Alan visits Michael in the BP garage:

Michael: Do you want a pickled onion?
Alan: Err, no, I hate them. It’s a very laid-back petrol station, this. You could have a couple of sofas in here, couldn’t you. People would come in, relax. You know, you’ve got your petrol, it’s fine.
Michael: This week’s guest petrol is, Texaco. And err, next week’s guest petrol will be… Texaco again.
Alan: Yeah. And you’ve got a great forecourt, you could have a lovely barbecue out there.
Michael: Oh, no. you’re not allowed naked flames on the forecourt.
Alan: It’s political correctness gone mad. You know, I tell you what amuses me, Michael. Really amuses me, when people criticize my book just because I happened to use the phrase “Needless to say, I had the last laugh” 14 times. Because, you know. You and I know, in my life to do date I have actually had the last laugh…
Michael: 25 times.
Alan: 25 times, exactly. (Microwave bell dings) My toad-in-the-hole.
Michael: There she blows. Ohh, lovely, man. Look at that, I bet you never thought that you could make toast in a microwave.
Alan: That’s not toast, Michael. That’s hot, floppy bread.
Michael: So what did you do last night?
Alan: Just stayed in an wached a documentary about quicksand. Then Sonja and I took our tops off and had a cuddle, followed by mince and onions.  Doesn’t get much better than that.
Micheal: It did for me. I done a bit better than a cuddle last night. I had full sex with a woman.
Alan: Go on, go on.
Michael: She was all over us, man. I mean, she’s a bit older than me, like. She’s 60.
Alan: 60?
Michael: Aye, what’s wrong with that? Same age difference as you and Sonja.
Alan: Yeah, that’s just wrong. You shouldn’t do it the other way round.
Michael: We did!
Alan: 60’s not really old, is it? I mean look at Bob Dylan.
Michael: Aye. She looked a bit like him.
Alan: What, with a big nose and lots of mad hair?
Michael: Aye, do you know her?
Alan: No. How did you meet her?
Michael: Ootside Threshers. She was loading all this booze into her car. And she says “Ooh, I’ve had a bit to drink”, like. “Would you drive us home… to Cardiff”
Alan: Cardiff?
Michael: Aye. I come back this morning on a National Express coach. It was sort of like an SAS operation, you know. Your mission: Gan ‘til Cardiff, have full sex with a woman, come back on the coach. Sort of like Operation Bravo-Two-Zero.
Alan: I think in your case, Michael. It was Bravo-Six-Zero. By Randy McNab!
Michael: Hey, Randy McNob!
Alan: Stop that now.
Michael: So, how’s you and Sonja getting on.
Alan: Never really thought about it. She’ll be along soon, with a hot desert.
Michael: I tell ya, the way she looks after you, man. You’re looking a gift horse in the mouth.
Alan: No. I think that’s what you were doing last night, Michael.
Michael: So, when’s Lynn getting baptised, then?
Alan: Splashdown for Lynn is 1500 hours on Sunday.
Michael: Ahh, right. And is, lover-boy gonna be there? The ex-policeman?
Alan: Gordon? I hope he’s not doing the dunking. I wouldn’t like to be dunked by a retired policeman. Because when you came up he’d probably go “Where’s the money?” I’d say “I don’t know, I’m just being baptised” “Down you go again”.
Michael: Aye, aye. Here comes Sonja.
Alan: Ah, the dinner lady.
Sonja: This is rhubarb crumble and custard.
Alan: Smashing.
Sonja: Alan, I am a homeless person. I went to my flat, and landlady is telling me that all the girls will have to go because she must sell this house because it will be office block. I have to find somewhere.
Alan: Look. If the worst comes to the worst, you can always move in to Lynn’s mum’s bedroom.
Sonja: I don’t want to sleep in Lynn’s dead mum’s bed.
Alan: Well, Michael did something similar last night and he’s very happy. Come on. Let’s see one of these. <adjusts Sonja’s face into a smile> Actually, that’s just weird.

Alan is being interviewed on the Prayer Wave radio show:

Tessa: Hello, and welcome back to “Prayer Wave” with me, Tessa McPherson. I’m talking to Kate Fitzgerald, who’s book “Someone Else” charts a journey of self discovery…
Alan (interrupting): Good title.
Tessa: … it takes you through childhood to your drug addiction and prostitution…
Alan (interrupting): Oh god.
Tessa: …and then to your recover, in a very upbeat sort of a way…
Alan (interrupting): Mine’s upbeat too.
Tessa: I should say at this point that other voice that you can hear is my other guest, Alan Partridge. Now, Alan for a while, had a TV chat show and was quite a big name up there, and then it all went very wrong.  And that’s the subject of your book, “Bouncing Back”.
Alan: Yes. I noticed that although Kate in effect felt she bounced back, I feel I have… had and are… bounced… bouncing. I felt that… Do you want to carry on talking to Kate while I just erm, sort something out. Can I borrow a pen?
Tessa: Yes. How’s the book doing?
Kate: It’s doing wonderfully well. The best feedback for me is actually people just coming up to me…
Alan (interrupting): Yeah, I’m all right now. You know.
Kate: Erm. People who felt very alone, but through me they’ve found a friend…
Alan (interrupting): All done.
Tessa: It’s been very well received.
Alan: Sorry.. sorry.
Kate: Can I just say, it’s actually quite distracting when you interrupt.
Alan: You just interrupted her!
Tessa: Erm. Alan. “Bouncing Back”. I suspect you meant it as an ironic title, didn’t you? Because, you haven’t bounced back, have you? Certainly not emotionally, and I think in a sense, not in a career way either. How do you feel about that?
Alan: What?
Kate: I think what Tessa’s saying is that you haven’t bounced back. I mean, I haven’t read your book, I’ve just skimmed it…
Alan (interrupting): I have. I’m doing “Norfolk Nights” and I’ve got a show called… Why are you shaking your head? Are you trying to put me off? Two can play at that game! <Lifts two fingers to Kate> I know you’ve problems, in the past… <mimics injecting into his arm> …The time’s just coming upto 11:30… Sorry, it’s your show.
Tessa: So, err, yes. Bouncing back. You fell quite spectacularly…
Alan (interrupting): Yeah, all right. Do you slow down for car crashes?
Tessa: I suppose, the point I’m trying to make really is that I’ve been looking for the positives in your book, and it is a book that is full of joy. But it’s chiefly joy at other people’s misfortunes.
Kate: I noticed a lot of bitterness. Actually I noticed you end almost every anecdote with the phrase “Needless to say, I had the last laugh.”
Alan: Yeah. Well you could end some of your chapters with “Needles to say… I took drugs”
Tessa: If I can turn to you, Kate.
Alan: Yeah, sure.
Tessa: You come from quite a privileged background.
Kate: Err, Meterially privileged yes, but emotionally undernourished. My father was very distant…
Alan (interrupting): Is that because he lived in a different wing of your house?
Kate: Have you read my book?
Alan: No, but I’ve seen the photographs in the central spine. And I read the bit where you say you put drugs up your bottom. Why? You’ve got a perfectly good mouth.
Kate: Very easy to confuse the two. Sometimes people can actually end up talking out of their arse, Alan.
Tessa: Let’s talk a little bit more about your drug addiction. Now, you were hooked on variety of drugs, weren’t you?
Kate: Yeah. I started on crack.
Alan: Now, that’s not the same as crackling, is it?
Kate: No.
Alan: It’s a joke. I love crackling. I had some last Sunday. It had hairs on it, but I didn’t mind.
Tessa: And then the chemical dependency grew worse?
Kate: Yeah. My drug of choice became ketamine, which is in fact a horse tranquilliser.
Alan: Shi t! Sorry. Did you get that by hanging round stables? You know, you do seem quite posh. I can imagine you in willies and one of those sleeveless anoraks.
Kate: The technical name for that is actually a gilet.
Alan: No, that’s a razor. Could have done with that for the crackling. Have you ever shaved your crackling?
Tessa: Erm. Yes. Ketamine.
Alan: Why give drugs to a horse? Why drag them into it?
Kate: They use ketamine to tranquillise the horse and then to extract the horse’s semen.
Alan: How do they do that?
Kate: I don’t know, the same way that you would a human being.
Alan: What, send him into a cubicle with magazines? They’ve got hooves for goodness’ sake. Four of them. It’d take some doing, but I cant see it.
Tessa: I think we’ve strayed somewhat from the topic. I think it’s interesting you both obviously have addictive personalities. Clearly in your case it was drugs. In your case, Alan, it was chocolate.
Alan: Yes. Specifically Toblerone. I would wake up in the middle of the night and eat an entire Toblerone. And I don’t mean a small one. I mean a medium-sized one. In fact, in the best chapter in my book I talk about when I gorged on Toblerone and drove to Dundeed in my bare feet.
Kate: I have to say. Chocolate addiction is never going to be as destructive as drug addiction.
Alan: What’s her book like?
Kate: Excuse me, I really don’t like being referred to as “her”.
Alan: All right, what’s “his” book like? I don’t know your name. Tara Peter Frampton double-barrel-shotgun Kensington on the horse.
Kate: You really have got a lot of issues.
Alan: Yeah, of “What Car?” magazine.
Tessa: That’s something of a first on “Prayer Wave”. Never had anybody walk out before.
Alan: Yes, I think the atmosphere has turned rather sour.
Tessa: Yes. Let’s see if we can smooth things over with a little bit more from Monteverdi’s “Vespers”.
Alan: Good band.
Tessa: Well, thank you very much for coming on the show, Alan. Slightly more exciting than I’d anticipated.
Alan: Yes. Oh, sorry, can I introduce you, this is my PA, Lynn.
Tessa: Hello.
Alan: You must be a guest on my show sometime. We discuss issues. Europe, conspiracy theories, what happens if you just eat crisps. Things like that.
Tessa: That sounds interesting actually. We’re currently revamping  this show. I’m actually looking for a co-presenter at the moment, so be quite interesting to talk to you about some of those ideas. You know I’m the producer of the show as well as the presenter.
Alan: Oh! No! That’s interesting isn’t it. I didn’t know who you are, and yet I still got in with you. Oh, I forgot to say. I am soooo a Christian.
Tessa: It’s not a pre-requisite for being on the programme.
Alan: Come on.
Tessa: No, really. It’s more to to with our family remit.
Alan: Well, I love families, you know. I used to have one, but it left me. This one’s a Baptist. Lynn’s being submerged this week, for her sins. Literally. You’re welcome to come along.
Tessa: Oh, how wonderful. Have you been preparing for it for a long time?
Lynn: Oh, yes. Yes.
Alan [Drifts off into one of his daydreams of him in his car munching on Toblerones}: Lynn! Lynn! Lynn! [Snaps out of it] Shall we make tracks?

Alan is back in the static home with Sonja:

Sonja: So, Alan, when is your book being destroyed?
Alan: Sonja, it’s not being destroyed. The correct term is pulped. They’re pulping the remaining unsold 14,000 copies of my book next Thursday. So they can make room for books on Cockney killers.
Sonja: What is Cockey?
Alan: Cockney, Sonja, is an area in London where criminals live. The police don’t arrest them because, and they’re very strict about this, because they only slaughter their own. And they have funerals with horses and floral tributes that say things like “Mum” and “Stab”.
Sonja: They don’t sound so evil, these men like flowers.
Alan: Sonja, these guys, some of the stunts they pull… They’ll chain you to a car that’s been clamped.  So the only way you can get yourself  free is by phoning the council. But you can’t do that because they’ve shoved your mobile phone up your backside.
Sonja: Mobile phone not hurt too much. Is only small.
Alan: No, Sonja. This was in the late ‘80’s. Mobile phones were like big black plastic bricks with a rubber breadstick sticking out of the top. It’s agony.
Sonja: Maybe if was vibrating phone, it quite pleasant!
Alan: Sonja, this is no laughing matter. You know, if you are at a fun fair, these guys might put your head in a candyfloss machine. And they might be standing round having a great laugh at you with your big pink hair. But you may be very very dizzy. Now, Sonja, I’ve been thinking about your impending homelessness and I’ve come to a decision. I want you to move in.
Sonja: Really?
Alan: I want you to mke the place your own.
Sonja: I can’t believe!
Alan: I’ve bought you the caravan.
Sonja: I don’t live in the house with you?
Alan: Have you seen the size of the box room? I want you here in the caravan. You’d be my very own John West tinned woman. Skipjack Sonja in brine.
Sonja: And I can come visit whenever I want?
Alan: Probably best if I come and see you, actually. Yeah. We’ll set up a signaling system. If you see a bottle of ketchup in the kitchen window, it means “Let’s make love”. “I’m feeling saucy”.
Sonja: You want me to pay rent?
Alan: I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.
Sonja: You’re sure you don’t want me to pay rent?
Alan: No, it’s fine, as I said, I’m sure we can come to some sort of arrangement.

Alan is at Lynn’s baptism:

Gordon: So I came to know a warm woman with a smile for everyone. So, let’s hear it for Lynn.
Alan: she didn’t like being in that water did she? See her thrashing around?
Michael: I’ve got it all on here, it’s hilarious, man.
Tessa: That was lovely.
Alan: Yes. It was like a very moving sheep dip. Anyway, I’m down to do a spot now. And I’m going to be saying a lot of interesting things about God. So if you hang around.
Tessa: Oh, Unfortunately I’ve really got to go, Alan.
Alan: I’ll do it now, I’ll do it now.

Alan <Alan begins his speech>: Hello. You probably don’t know me. I’m Alan Partridge. I host “Norfolk Nights” on Radio Norwich, and  “Skirmish”, a military-based general knowledge quiz on cable television channel called UK Conquest. But today is Lynn’s day, and what a tragedy that the one person who can’t be here is Lynn’s mum, Peggy, who is dead. We didn’t see eye to eye. There was a lot of bad blood… which coincidentally was one of the complications she had at the end. But erm, I’m digressing. Today is Lynn’s day and she has bounced back in the same way that I have. Because God is a very positive God. Even when he tried to create the world in six days, there were people who said “You can’t do it, it can’t be done”. Although he hadn’t created people then. But the criticism bounced off him like water off… Not off a duck’s back, because he hadn’t invented ducks either. But erm, anyway…Where was I or is I?  Is… was… iswas. “Tiswas”. Who remembers “Tiswas”? The 70’s! Spacehoppers and err… sweets they don’t make any more. Er, err, err “Kojak”! Who loves ya, baby? A lollipop. Sorry, it’s not going very well. Oh, I’m gonna kill myself. Where’s my shotgun? Click, click, click. Can’t get my toe on the trigger. Oh, got it. That’s it. And to Lynn.

Alan: Sorry about that. I won’t do they shot gun thing on the radio. That’s just for the Baptists.
Tessa: Anyway, I’ve really got to go.
Alan: Yeah, go, go, go, go, go.
Baptist Guest: Hello, Alan. Can I just say I love your radio show.
Alan: Oh, thank you very much.
Baptist Guest: And I’ve read your book.
Alan: Oh?
Baptist Guest: Have to say, didn’t really work for me.
Alan: F’ck off.
Sonja: First, Alan was very shy before we make love. He was very shy of his body. But I just tell to him ”Please, it doesn’t mind. It’s what’s inside what matter” And also, Alan is pretty well hung, so… Now when we make love, he is like a big god bear.

Alan to Baptist Guest: Oh, erm. I’m sorry about that before. I think you just caught me at a bad moment.
Baptist Guest: Perfectly understandable. So. I hear your book’s being pulped.
Alan: F’ck off!

(Alan’s phone rings)

Alan: Hello? Er, yes, he is. Did he give you my number? Michael, it’s a Nerys for you.
Michael: Hello. Oh, hiya! Oh, Nerys, aye! So I know your name now. No, I can still smell you. ‘Cause I haven’t had a shower or owt.
Alan [daydreaming again about when he had his breakdown]: Lynn! Lynn! Hello, Lynn? I’ve been eating a lot of Toblerone. I’ve eaten four and I’ve got two white ones left. I don’t like them as much as the dark ones. I’m not very happy.

Alan: Hello, again. I’m sorry, about that. It’s just, you know when you have a book out and you get a lot of criticism. It’s very difficult to…
Baptist Guest: Not a problem.
Alan: Unfortunately, people would rather read books about people called Dan the Daggerman from Dagenham.
Baptist Guest: Funny world.
Alan: Tortures you by putting your hair  in a fax machine and pressing “Send”. What do you think was actually wrong with my book? Don’t pull any punches.
Baptist Guest: To be honest. I don’t think anecdotes are your forte.
Alan: That’s fair enough.  So you don’t think I can tell anecdotes? Can you just pop that down for a second. Right! I’ll tell you an anecdote! In 1975, I was catching the London train from Crewe station. It was very crowded, I found myself in a last minute rush for the one remaining seat with a tall good-looking man with collar-length hair. It was the 70’s. Buckaroo. When I sat down on the chair, I looked up and realized it was none other than Peter Purves. It was at the height of his “Blue Peter” fame! He said, “You jammy bastard” and I quick as a flash I replied “Don’t be blue, Peter”. Needless to say, I had the last laugh. Now f’ck off!

Alan is at the factory where his book is being pulped:

Alan: Hello, Alan Partridge. Coming to see my book being pulped. It’s great that I’m actually putting something back. There’s a lot of dignity involved. It looks like porridge! Word porridge! There’s my book! There’s my book!.

Series 2 Episode 5 - I know what Alan did last summer

Alan is in the studio in chatting about dogs on “Super Talk”

Alan: That was sweating lunatic Iggy Pop, part of our Tuesay night ‘Punk Pack’, which is climaxing at midnight with Madness. This is ‘Norfolk Nights’ with Alan Partridge, and we’re in the middle of ‘Super Talk’.
(Echoing) Super Talk! Brought to you by Ginster’s Pasties
Alan: Tonight we’re Super Talking about evil dogs. We’ve all seen them in those undesirable areas. Donald from Hemsby has e-mailed us to say, ‘dangerous dogs should simply have their teeth replaced with strips of rubber’. I think that’s an excellent idea. I’m going to make him our e-mail of the evening.
(Dalek voice) e-mail of the evening!
Alan: And Donald wins our top prize which is a kind of Action Man military figure, it’s got all kinds of features, and on the box it says ‘not suitable for children’. I wouldn’t take any notice of that. Although my cousin did once buy a pirated Tweenie from a covered market in Brundall, and it was full of soiled bandages. Anyway, time for music now. Who’s this beautiful blonde man with a lovely voice? It’s Annie Lennox.
Alan: That was Bill Withers who, thank the Lord, is still with us. I’ll be back here tomorrow with another fun prize. It’s a piggy bank. It’s 1am, as the whole of Norfolk sleeps, something truly evil stirs.
Dave: All right Alan, actually-
Alan: His coffin lid opens with a shuddering creak.
Alan: An owl hoots…
(Danny Francetti’s Jazz Box)
Alan: Sorry it’s the new digital system.
Alan: Out pops the vampire.. count Davula of Cliftonvania. He’s very fed up – not because he can’t see his reflection, but because he can!
Dave: That’s right Alan, actually I’ve been up all night drinking human blood.
Alan: Is that all?
Dave: And erm I tell you, there is one person I would love to drive a stake though.
Alan: Well that’s the only thing you’ll be driving since your ban.
Dave: Well maybe you should be banned from broadcasting Alan, after some of those truly shocking prizes you’ve been giving away.
Alan: This coming from the man who once gave away a CD removed from the cover of a music magazine.
Dave: Ah, yes. All right folks, we’re gonna Go West.

Alan is in the static home with Sonja, finishing breakfast

Alan: That was the best full English breakfast I’ve had since Gary Wilmot’s wedding.
Sonja: It was ruddy superb?
Alan: Oh yeah, I’d have that three times a day if I could, but I’d be dead.
Sonja: It kill you?
Alan: Yeah, it’s cholesterol. Scottish people eat it. Few of them make 60. Why are there holes in my ‘Daily Mail’?
Sonja: I do collage, look. I cut out the heads of U2 and then I put on top of space clothes.
Alan: I see, and the idea is that U2 are going into space? That’s an interesting thought, you should send it to the fan club.
Sonja: I already have.
Alan: Oh, you’re not just sexy, you’re also a very good… fan club member.
Sonja: I also write to tell them that my boyfriend is very good friend with Bono.
Alan: Yes, yes I am.
Sonja: Will you introduce me?
Alan: Yeah.
Sonja: Can I put in journal that I am very good cook of full English breakfast?
Alan: Yes, you can. In fact, I’ve made a few notes. Yes, bacon – ten on ten, button mushrooms – bingo, black pudding – snap, erm, minor criticism, more distance between the eggs and the beans. I may want to mix them, but I want that to be my decision. Use a sausage as a breakwater. But I’m nit-picking, on the whole a very good effort, seven on ten, let’s make love.
Sonja: OK!
Alan: Yeah I always find that a fried breakfast makes an excellent aphrodisiac. Excuse me.
Sonja: You don’t want to wash the dishes?
Alan: Let’s make love right here, right now. OK, just fold this table away. You should feel it clip in the housing. Yeah, I’m gonna hump ya. That’s it. Like Deputy Dawg would hump ya. There we go.
Sonja: You want fitted sheet?
Alan: No we’ll just use the large beach towel.
Sonja: Alan, I buy you another present.
Alan: What?
Sonja: It’s a London love taxi. I have put my heart in back of taxi and told driver to go to you.
Alan: Aah, Don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ll pop that up there with the others. Getting a big crowded now, like London. Which I spell S – H – I – T – H – O – L – E. Shithole! Let’s start with some petting.
Lynn: Alan! Alan it’s me!
Alan: Get in, Lynn. Lynn, what do you think is Sonja’s best feature?
Lynn: Her hair?
Alan: Nope.
Lynn: Her neck? Her eyes? Her eyelashes?
Alan: No, it’s her feet. Lovely dainty feet. I don’t like big feet, reminds me of gammon.
Lynn: Have you decided what you’re going to call the house?
Alan: I’ve narrowed it down to ‘Lord House’, ‘Ace House’, and ‘The Cinnamons’.
Sonja: We ought to call it ‘Our House’.
Alan: Yeah, we could call it that. Do wanna make a note of that?
Lynn: Now, Alan, I need to know, you’re completely ready for the Inland Revenue? Have you got all your receipts?
Alan: Yes, some are on a spike over there, you’ve got some in a fat envelope, and the rest are in a shoe box which I threw off a ferry. That was a low point.
Lynn: Now, be prepared, these tax people can stay indefinitely.
Alan: Lynn, if I have to put back my roger with Sonja one more time, I’ll be fit to burst. I’ll have to resort to plan B.
Lynn: Have you got everything ready for the meeting?
Alan: Well, you’re gonna be there with me.
Lynn: They’re not investigating me.
Alan: Lynn, we’re in this together.
Lynn: Well, what are you trying to hide?
Alan: Nothing… all right, Bill Oddie gave me a dressing gown as a Christmas present. He enclosed a receipt so I could take it back if I wanted to. I submitted Oddie’s receipt for tax purposes. I’m guilty as hell Lynn. And if I’m going down, you’re going down with me. I want you to lie for me.
Lynn: I can’t do that Alan, in the eyes of God…
Alan: Lynn, Lynn, I’m on God’s side. I can’t stand the devil, I mean he’s bang out of order, and he’s an evil, evil idiot. And I know in the Ten Commandments it says ‘Thou shalt not lie’, but if the Elephant Man came in here now with some lipstick on and a nice dress, and said ‘how do I look?’, would you say, Lynn, bearing in mind that he’s depressed and has got respiratory problems, would you say ‘take that blusher off, you ugly misshapen-headed elephant tranny?’
Lynn: No, I’d say, ‘you look very nice’.
Alan: Exactly, you’re say ‘you look nice, John’.
Lynn: Now Alan, the tax people are coming in an hour. You’ve got one hour to get ready.
Sonja: Alan, look what I draw.
Alan: What’s that?
Sonja: It’s an alien judge.
Alan: Golly, an alien judge.
Sonja: And the alien judge… the alien judge is shooting the taxman, and the taxman’s head is come off, and all the blood is squirt out.
Lynn: Alan you promised me Sonja wasn’t going to be here when the tax people came.
Alan: I know and I’ve ruddy gone and forgotten haven’t I? Speak very quickly, she can’t understand it.
Lynn: What can we do about her?
Alan: That’s very good. I could send her into Norwich on an errand. Sonja, what are your plans?
Sonja: I go to coffee shop of course.
Alan: Problem solved. Sonja, Lynn’s gonna give you a lift to work.
Sonja: OK.
Lynn: And the house names?
Alan: Oh, yes, I’ve decided I’m going to call it ‘Excalibur Cottage’. Can’t mess about on this one Lynn.
Lynn: Well, get ready for the tax people.
Alan: Chill out babe… love… Lynn. The last one. See ya, wouldn’t wanna be.. oh she’s gone.
John: Hello, Alan.
Alan: Oh! Hello.. er.. Tell me your name.
John: John.
Alan: All right, John, me old mucker?
John: I’m from Manchester.
Alan: M62. How’s it going in the living room, uncovered any old fireplaces?
John: No, it’s a brand-new house, init.
Alan: Yeah, good call. If you need me, I’ll be in the caravan. Sorry, you’re from Manchester, cotton and guns.

The tax inspectors turn up to speal to Alan

Tax Woman 1: Mr Partridge? We’re from the Inland Revenue.
Alan: No you’re not.
Tax Woman 2: Yes, we are.
Alan: Oh, come in then. Hello, sit over there. Ah, wolves at the door. You’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and… where’s the other one, where’s the other pig? Sorry, just met you, got off to a bad start.
Tax Woman 1: Sorry, we are a bit early.
Alan: Yes, that old one, the being early trick, mind games. I’m  shit-chatting, sorry, chit-shatting.
Tax Woman 1: I’m Monica, this is Catherine.
Catherine: Hi.
Monica: And what today is all about, it’s purely a straightforward random investigation.
Alan: OK, do you want something to eat?
Monica: No, no thanks.
Alan: I’ll check the fridge. OK we’ve got a net bag of Babybels, you can’t have those, they’re for the car, I’m driving to Harrogate. Do you want a beer?
Monica: No thanks.
Alan: That’s another old trick, spike the drink, pop you in the boot of the Lexus and dump you in the North sea. I’d tie a jack to your leg, you’d sink like a stone.
Catherine: It’s all right, we’ve eaten, thanks.
Alan: Do you want a little teddy bear? It’s got.. bean juice, I could probably put it in the washing machine.
Monica: Do you think we could see you?
Alan (bear): Hello. My name’s… Graham. Don’t be horrible to Alan, he doesn’t avoid tax, he only evades tax.. no, it’s the other way round, oh shut up!
Monica: Why don’t you just sit down?
Alan: Yeah.
Catherine: Let’s have a look at a couple of your company records. Now there’s an entry here for Tomahawk Leisure. What was that?
Alan: That was a company which we set up. We looked into its operation and closed it down again. It was inoperable. I wonder if I can walk like this. I could have been R2-D2.
Catherine: OK, what about Apache Communications?
Alan: I’ve got a leaflet on that. Mine’s a pint. It’s not here! ‘It’s not here’, that’s the bear again. This is going quite well, do you want a chicken drumstick?
Monica: No, no thanks.
Alan: I’ve got a chocolate Marble Arch. It’s very well rendered. I should have got them to do the house. Better than these bastards. Still, at least they’re cash in hand.
Monica: Alan, ‘cash in hand’? It’s not a phrase we like.
Catherine: Look, Alan, just relax, OK? As long as everything’s above board, you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.
Alan: I’ve got nothing to hide. Search me! Search me! Oh, that’s Customs and Excise isn’t it..
Monica: Right. Could we have a look at the receipts on your spike?
Alan: Yes, I have a confession to make. When I raised my legs then, something happened which was unplanned’… I released an unexpected but potent gust. I’d like to apologise in advance if it registers, because it is out there.
Catherine: Look Alan, we understand if you’re nervous.
Monica: There’s a receipt here for a cinema ticket for one to ‘Shrek’.
Alan: Research, next question.
Monica: Seems to be on the same day, there’s a receipt here for a pair of shoes from Dolcic in Dundee.
Alan: Yeah, I had no shoes. You can’t go see ‘Shrek’ in your bare feet.
Monica: We’ve got a receipt here for a dressing gown, do you want to tell us about that?
Alan: Yes, can you hold these please?

Alan steps outside of the static home to speak to John.

John: All right, Alan?
Alan: All right… all right?
John: John.
Alan: John, right. I always think of you as Bleachy Head because of your hair. Bealchy Head! I could throw myself off the top of you if I get depressed again! Just let off in a tax inspectress’s face.
John: Let off?
Alan: And it was mostly deliberate.
John: Do you want one, Al?
Alan: No, I don’t smoke. I’m one of the anti-cancer set. We’re a dying breed. Well we’re not, you are. I don’t mean you’ve got cancer. Maybe you have. If you haven’t, I apologise. If you have, please take the rest of the day off.
John: I’ve not got cancer Alan.
Alan: You can’t be too careful. Testicular, that’s the one. Always got to check for extra lumps.
John: Aye.
Alan: Yeah. Some guys feel a bit uncomfortable about it, but I always say why not combine it with a scratch?
John: Get our girlfriend to do it.
Alan: Yeah! Yeah I’ve got a girlfriend, we were bonking like mad last night in the caravan.
John: Getting down to it.
Alan: We were yeah! I tell you what, if it weren’t for the telescopic dampers on all four corners of the caravan, that place would have been wobbling like a very rude house. I say telescopic dampers, I mean rigid stays. How’s the grouting coming on?
John: Well, it’s not, because we haven’t decided on the tiles yet have we?
Alan: All right, well just, er… just carry on building the house.
John: What’s that?
Alan: It’s a tip, I panicked. Do declare it.

Alan is back in the static home to continue his discussions with the tax inspectors:

Alan: Sorry about that, just having a chinwag about cancer. It’s a serious subject. I once found a lump under my arm. Awful. Turned out in the end it was just a knot in my vest.
Sonja: Hi Alan.
Alan: Oh, she’s here… Sonja what are you doing back?
Sonja: I told Tomek to put his coffee shop up inside his ass.
Alan: I’ve just realised that I’m in a static home with three women. Just don’t all go off to the toilet and talk about me behind my back because it really is too small. But it is a solid bog, the chemicals in that loo will dissolve a corpse.
Sonja: You tell tax people they won’t find your money?
Alan: Sonja, these are very important people.
Sonja: She wears no make-up!
Alan: That’s irrelevant. Excuse me. Do you want to go to prison? Do you? Do you want to go to prison?
Sonja: You tell me prison is very cushy. It’s like holiday camps.
Alan: I was making a point about something else.
Sonja: Just go out and you say ‘no, I don’t pay, tax is rubbish’.
Alan: Sonja, you are not the Chancellor of the Exchequer! You’re my girlfriend! If you took over, the country would go to pot!
Sonja: You want me to be good little shut-up Sonja? Zip!
Alan: Thank you. Oh, God! It’s alright, it’s OK, it’s OK, it’s OK. (Gargling) Oh, did you see all that? Ah, great, Lynn! The fat envelope! Not you, Lynn. I’m just gonna pop to the Choristers, Lynn will answer all of your questions. Bye!
John: Where do you want these sockets Al?
Alan: Two there, two there, one in the middle of the floor for the computer.

Alan is in Choristers, having a pint and talking to members in the bar (who aren’t taking much notice):

Alan: Guide dogs for the blind. It’s cruel really, isn’t it? Forcing a dog to pull a man round all day. Not fair on either of them. Girlfriend’s left me. Well, to be honest, I’m chuffed like made. She weren’t expecting that. I’m gonna get home tonight, I’m just gonna have a sandwich and watch Trevor McDonald. Thank you very much. Probably won’t even brush my teeth. Sleep in my trousers. Yeah, some of the things me and my girlfriend do are pretty top- shelf. I mean, top-shelf in this country, not abroad. I don’t want to see an erection. Unless it’s in the mirror, right guys? Finished with the ‘Daily Mail’? Cheers. (Cowboy accent) Yeah, I think I’ll go and read Simon Heffer on the veranda. Ain’t no one gonna stop me.

Alan visits Michael at the BP garage:

Alan: I don’t know what to do. We have it off all the time.
Michael: Well at least it’ll be an end to all that London crap, Big Ben teddy bears, and all that. You hate London.
Alan: Oh yeah, but there is an upside. All those small taxis and little Tower Bridges sometimes make me feel like a giant. One day, when Sonja went out, I arranged them all on the floor, and I just marched around saying ‘fee, fi, fo fum! I smell the blood of an ungrateful bunch of bastards’.
Michael: She’s a good cook.
Alan: She does a fantastic full English breakfast. That’s daft. A good English breakfast.
Michael: Is she still making it too bunched up? With the egg..
Alan: Too close to the beans…
Michael: Too close to the beans. When will they learn eh? Mind, she was sexy, she wore a G-strap.
Alan: Well, yes, that’s for hygiene reasons too. It lets the buttocks breathe.
Michael: You don’t know to wear it or floss your teeth with it!
Alan: Or slice cheese with it!
Michael: Or all three!
Alan: Now that’s unhygienic. Problem is, I did have a girlfriend, now I haven’t got one anymore. What am I going to do?
Michael: Get yourself another!
Alan: No chance, British?
Lynn: Alan, I’ve called the police.
Alan: What for?
Lynn: I thought it was best.
Michael: She’ll turn up one way or the other.
Alan: This isn’t ‘Silent Witness’.
Sonja: Hello.
Alan: Sonja!
Lynn: Where have you been?
Sonja: I buy another present for Alan, guess what I buy.
Alan: I don’t know, a bear dressed as a beefeater.
Sonja: Yes! And then I went back to caravan and chucked out the tax woman.
Alan: Lovely stuff.
Sonja: Did you buy me a present to say sorry for being cross to me?
Alan: Yes, I did… and I’ll just go and get it. There we go, it’s a video by the West Country comedian Jethro, and it’s signed by Bono.
Michael: Do you know Bono?!
Alan: Yes I do.
Sonja: He’s big friends with Bono he tell me.
Michael: When did you get him to sign that then?
Alan: When I was round at his house with Jethro.
Sonja: You’ve been to Bono’s house?
Alan: Yes I have.
Michael: Bollocks! You don’t know Bono.
Alan: I do know Bono.
Sonja: You take me to Bono’s house.
Alan: You want to go to Bono’s house? OK, we’ll go to Bono’s house, but you’ll look stupid. Thanks you two, for dropping me right in it! Put these on the tab.

Alan is with Sonja in the car, heading to Bono’s house:

Sonja: Alan, you don’t remember where is Bono’s house?
Alan: I will remember. The last time I was there I took some pot and I was briefly mindless. And as I say he has a huge dog and he may well be drunk and unleash it because normally I ring ahead.
Sonja: I am not scared to dogs.
Alan: Well you should be because these are more like fat horses. You’ll either look thick or it’ll have your hands and feet off before bono can whistle it to stop.
Sonja: What sort of dog is that?
Alan: the sort of dog the Nazis used to chase Steve McQueen. They’re trained and very right-wing. This is Bono’s house, eureka. Those spiky trees I think are Joshua trees.

Alan pulls up at a National Trust country house, pretending it’s Bono’s house:

Sonja: Who are all these cards?
Alan: These are all Bono’s.
Sonja: All these cards?
Alan: Yeah, he’s got the biggest collection of… hatchbacks in the country. Bono! Bono! Well, this is it, this is where the idiot lives. Lovely pictures up there of lads with big hair. Henry VIII. He was a shit. Bono? Nah, he’s not here. Do you fancy a curry?
Sonja: No I want to see.
Alan: OK.
Alan: Yes, this is Bono’s bedroom, I’m not sure if he’s in. Bono? No, he’s not. He likes to lie there, though, with the ‘Sunday Express’, and the biggest bowl of Alpen you’ve ever seen. Massive it is.
Alan: What’s the name of a U2 album?
Sonja: Joshua Tree?
Alan: Yes, I knew that, because he composed half of it over there. And the other half… over there.
Sonja: These people are friends of Bono?
Alan: Still on that are we?
Sonja: Why the red rope everywhere, and the plastic fruit?
Alan: The man is mentally ill. I’ve seen him eat a plastic pie.
Sonja: But in normal house you don’t have 40 tables all the same.

Lynn turns up with one of her friends from church, pretending to be Bono:

Alan: The very fact that you’re questioning my – my – my… my God.
Lynn: Hello Alan, good news.
Alan: You got my text then?
‘Bono’: Hello Alan.
Alan: Hello, Bono, have a seat. Hows The Edge?
‘Bono’: The Edge is fine.
Lynn: How’s Adam Clayton?
‘Bono’: Adam Clayton is fine.
Alan: Hows, urm, the drummer?
‘Bono’: The drummer is fine.
Alan: When did you last see the gang?
‘Bono’: I saw them last Thursday at a pop concert.
Alan: Who were playing?
‘Bono’: We were.
Alan: I didn’t see that advertised, you should sack your PR people.
‘Bono’: We have.
Alan: Good.
Sonja: How long you live in house?
‘Bono’: Since the 80’s. Blicklington Hall was built by Sir Henry Hobart. The Jacobean house is built on the site of a late medieval predecessor.
Sonja: He is not Bono, he is rubbish.
Alan: He is isn’t he. Lynn, are those your mother’s cataract glasses?
Lynn: Yes they are.
Alan: What’s your name?
‘Bono’: Andrew.
Alan: Andrew, who is, I’m guessing, a friend of Lynn’s from the Baptist church?
Andrew: Yes that’s right.
Alan: What do I owe you for your trouble Andrew?
Andrew: Just a contribution for the church.
Alan: A fiver?
Lynn: 30?
Alan: 30?!
Andrew: That’s very generous.
Alan: I’ve been ambushed! There you go. Help yourself to a scone. You’re probably sick of canteen food from being on tour… I forgot, you’re not Bono.

Alan is back at the static home with Sonja:

Alan: Yeah, I’ve changed my mind about Excalibur Cottage. I think I’ll just call it ‘Ye house’. I’ve killed a bear! Who is he?
Sonja: He’s a second-hand bargain beefeater bear.
Alan: Sonja, beefeaters do no live in caravans! They live in the Tower of London and they are restaurants.
Sonja: He is brilliant present!
Alan: It’s not an appropriate gift for a man approaching 50! It’s too big! How did you get it here?
Sonja: On the bus.
Alan: You took that on the bus? Sonja anyone who knows us might have thought it was me inside there. Me wearing a bear costume. They’d think I’d lost it again.
Sonja: It’s very nice.
Alan: Look I’m sorry, I’m sorry. When I’ve calmed down I’ll kiss him better where I stabbed him. Just, next to his thorax, he’ll be fine. I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow is your day. You can do whatever you want, anything you like.
Sonja: I want to go to London.
Alan: That’s fine.

Season 2 Episode 4 - Never say Alan again

Alan is in the studio, looking comatozed listening to a song:
Alan: That was Norwich-based singer-songwriter Christian Le Vaux, with a self-penned song entitled “I Loved You, But You Left Me”. Apparently he can’t get a record deal. There’s no justice, Christian… Le Vaux. Oh, it’s the bank holiday weekend. A terrible time for the lonely. Which, I think, Christian testifies to on his second track “Lonely… ‘Cause You Left Me”. Tonight, we’re think-abouting which celebrity you would like to spend a bank holiday with, and what would you do. Sue from Paston says she’d like to sit down with  some hotpot and red cabbage, and watch “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” with Sting. And er, T. Gladden  emails  to say  he’d like to clear out the attic, with the lovely Kate Winslet.  OK, on the line, we have, if I’m not mistaken, Roy from Caister St Edmund. Roy, Hello.
Roy: Hello?
Alan: It’s bank holiday, what  ya doin’? Who’s with ya?
Roy: I’d like to go round Legoland with Sean Connery, and then afterwards we’d go for a lovely lamb lunch, in the centre of Windsor.
Alan: Gotta say, Roy. I don’t think that’s Connery’s cup of tea. I think Sean would rather, do something like, wander round the wildfowl park in Pepperstock, with a [Scottish accent] bottle of Scotch!
Roy: I don’t agree. He’d go to Legoland. Bye. [Hangs up]
Alan: Sorry. Music. Hide the steak, it’s Chrissie Hynde.
Alan: That was moving rabbit classic “Bright Eyes”. Another cheeky chappie who’s starring into the abyss of having to spend three days with himself, the insomniac’s boyfriend, David Clifton.
Dave: Yeah, good evening to you, Alan. Actually, do you know what, I’m not so sure about that, Alan. Because I’m going to be seeing a friend at the weekend.
Alan: Uh-oh! Johnnie Walker or Jack Daniels?
Dave: No.
Alan: Glenmorangie?
Dave: No. I’m going to be seeing Tony Hadley from Spandau Ballet.
Alan: Rubbish!
Dave: Oh, yeah. I’m actually doing an archery weekend with him.
Alan: Really?
Dave: Yeah, yeah. We both do archery. I’m a grade three, at the moment. I’m hoping, fingers crossed, to get mygrade four there, this weekend.
Alan: How do you… how do you…Who?… Can I…
Dave: So er, what are you doing this weekend then, Alan?
Alan: I’m watching all the Bond films, back to back, with my friend Michael.
Dave: Oh, what, the guy who works at the BP garage?
Alan: I know where he works.
Dave: OK, there goes Alan Partridge, licensed to kill… time, in his caravan by watching videos.
Alan: Good one, good one. Arrows are deceitful. When a cowboy fires a gun, there’s a bang, it’s a warning. Gives you a chance to duck. When a cowboy has an arrow fired at him, he hears nothing. If he’s lucky, it sticks in his hat, and he just looks daft. But more often that not, it sticks in his back, and he dies slumping forward on the horse that rides off with him, just on top of him, going like that [Impersonates a dead cowboy on top of a horse]
Dave: Yeah, OK. Bye, Alan. See you later.
Alan: And, also, archers. I hate archers, “The Archers” and Jeffrey Archer. You’re all deceitful cowards. I just realized then, that only applies to archers and Jeffrey Archer. But not “The Archers”,  who… to be fair, are a mixed bag. Goodbye.
Dave: OK. And what are we doing to the planet? Well, it’s “Purple Rain”.
Alan is at BP garage to chat to Michael, when he realizes Michael talks to other men:
Alan [Jumping in through the door, prentending to hold a gun]: Bang! I’m James Bond.
Michael: Got us right in the neck.
Alan: You can survive that, if it doesn’t sever the spinal column.
Michael: Aye. Mind you, I wouldn’t be able to talk. I’d just gan “uh uh uh uh”, like that. Hey, I love the gadgets. It’s like: Pay attention, Bond. Simply remove the top off this pen, jab it into somebody’s eye, and smash it in with your hand like that.
Alan: That’s not a gadget, Michael. That’s just monrtous use of a biro.
Tex [Liverpudlian accent]: Check it out there’s an advert for it.
Michael: Hey, Truckfest! Hey look, it’s coming to Ipswich. Whoa! David Soul’s gonna be there.
Tex: Yeah [Michael and Tex honk] Hey imagine that, eh Mike. Driving across the States on one of them roads, Route 66. Sleeping in motels.
Michael: Aye, just gan into a shop and buy a gun. [Michael and Tex honk again]
Alan: They’re actually left-hand drive, those lorries. So if you are doing that,  you’d just be grabbing photographs of your family. Or perhaps, rosary beads, if you were driving up from Mexico.
Tex: Er, Mike. Do you want to serve this guy?
Michael: Oh, no. It’s all right. He’s a friend and all.
Tex: Oh, all right. The name’s Tex.
Alan: Text?
Tex: No. Tex. Like er, short for Terry, you know, like Texas and that.
Michael: He likes American stuff.
Alan [Not impressed]: Oh.
Michael: Alan likes James Bond.
Tex: Ah, you’re a Bond guy are ya? My man’s gotta be Wayne.
Alan: What, Wayne Sleep? It’s just, the jacket and the boots.
Tex: No. Wayne. [Impersonates John Wayne] “Get off your horse and drink your milk.”
Alan: Yeah, yeah, Wayne Sleep.
Tex: Hey, Mike. I’m just gonna grab a Dr Pepper from the cooler. Stick it on me tab.
Alan: Yeah, Michael. I’m just going to get a Ginster’s from the fridge. Put is on the slate.
Tex: Yeah, Mike. I can’t wait to get back to the States.
Alan: Yeah, I used to hang around the States.
Tex: Where did you get to?
Alan: Florida mainly… A fortnight in Florida. Yeah, good days.
Tex: Florida, eh? Walt Disney. Now there’s a guy who lived the American dream. Built a huge empire.
Alan: Yeah, I thought he just drew pictures of mice. I prefer David Attenborough. At least he’s more honest. He interviews real mice.
Tex: Anyway. I’m gonna hit the road. Check you later, Mike.
Michael: Check you later. [Michael and Tex honk]
Tex to Alan: Nice to meet you, Colin.
Alan: Colin?
Alan discusses with Michael about all the men he talks to in the garage:
Alan: Walt Disney! Animals never wore clothes.
Michael: Hang on, hang on [Waiting for Tex’s truck horn to honk] There he goes.
Alan: Is that his pickup truck?
Michael: Aye, he calls it Convoy.
Alan: Convoy? Michael, you’re hanging around with a man who uses  a collective term for a single vehicle.
Michael: He just likes American things.
Alan: What, like Dr Pepper?
Michael: Aye.
Alan: It tastes like fizzy Benylin. So, how long’s “Like A Rhinestone Cowboy” been coming in here?
Michael: Well, about 18 month… Two year. Aye, two year.
Alan: Do you chat to any other men?
Michael: Aye. Including you, four regulars, like.
Alan: Michael, what the hell’s going on?
Michael: Well, it’s just, you know, men who want someone to talk to. They’re just lonely. Look, I cannot not talk to the customers, man. Look, what does it say on me badge “Michael, I’m here to help.”
Alan: No it doesn’t, it just says “Michael”.
Michael: Oh, aye. It does.
Alan: Why did you think it said the rest?
Michael: I don’t know. I must have dreamt it. So, anyway, hey. Bond weekend. Me and you.
Alan: I don’t remember inviting you to the Bond weekend, Michael. I think what you’ve done is you’ve put two and two together, and you’ve made five. Or, as the Americans say “Fi-i-ive”
Michael: Do you want that Kit Kat?
Alan: No.
Michael: You’ll have to pay for that.
Alan: Put it on the slate. No, actually, I’ll eat it.
Alan is back home, prouncing around his unbuilt house like a spy:
John: All right, Al?
Alan: Aagh! What are you doing here? It’s a bank holiday.
John: Well, I had to come in and do those dodgy floor joists, didn’t I? What was that you were doing just then?
Alan: I was just walking through my house… In the style of James Bond.
John: Oh. That was quite good. I think you’ll make a good James Bond.
Alan: Do you really think so?
John: I like that “Goldfinger”. That bit wher the laser beam’s going up his Jaffas.
Alan: We should talk more, you know. I’ve got lots of subjects I’d love to chat about. I used to chat to another bloke about them, but he likes American things now. What do you think of American things?
John: They’re a bit full of themselves.
Alan: Abso-bloody-exactly!
John: Not my cup of tea.
Alan: Actually, we could do a Bond film. I could be Bond and you could be my stunt man. Because you’ve got a good physique.
John: Yeah, well I don’t like to get too big. You know. It’s your pec muscles you’ve got to start off with. Got to sort out your pecs, do your bench presses. Here, have a prod of that.
Alan [Prodding John’s pecs]: Yeah, very firm. Mine are more or less the same, they’re just fractionally more flaccid. Apart from that, I’ve got a smooth chest with a ring of hairs round each nipple. And a think line that sort of builds towards the usual place. Bye.
Alan is with Sonja in the static home, planning his Bond weekend:
Alan: Right, Sonja. Let’s sort this timetable out. 9am, “Doctor No”. Break for a pee. I need at least three minutes to urinate. Seems to take forever these days. I never thought, when I was in my 20’s I’d have to push.
Sonja: Next?
Alan: 11:05, “From Russia With Love”. 1:15, “Goldfinger”. Strawberry Nesquilk, fishcakes. 3:35, “Thunderball”. Dump. Put question mark. See how I feel after the fishcakes.
Sonja: How long?
Alan: Twenty minutes. We’ll allow for complications. 6:15, “You Only Live Twice”. Tin of Director’s. 8:20, “Diamonds Are Forever”. Put the roast on as soon as you see the moon buggy.
Sonja: You are very brilliant. This is a clever schedule.
Alan: Thank you. I love you, in a way.  You could be a Bond femme fatale with your broken English. You’re sexy, but I don’t trust you.
Sonja: James Bond doesn’t live in a caravan.
Alan: No, but this could very easily be a compact Swiss chalet. About to be stormed by 15 bad bastards in boiler suits.
Lynn: Hello. [Alan turns around and Lynn pretends to fire a gun] Bang-bang! Bang Bang!
Alan: You look like you quite enjoyed that.
Lynn: [Mimicking a machine gun noise]
Alan: Was that a snub-nosed Uzi?
Lynn: Yes, I think it was.
Alan: You’re in a remarkably cheerful mood considering it’s the first anniversary of your mother’s death.
Lynn: Well, life goes on.
Sonja: Can we finish writing the Bond schedule?
Lynn: You’ve made allowances for the visit to my mother’s grave?
Alan: Yes, that’s in the schedule. Visit to your mother’s grave, then “Doctor No”. The underground base of an evil genius… and then “Doctor No”!
Sonja: If you make him take you to grave, then we’ll be late for film, and all work we did will be destroyed.
Lynn: Can’t you cut one of the less important films?
Alan: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa-whoa! Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! Which are the less important Bond films, Lynn? I’ve got to hear this.
Lynn: One of those Welsh ones.
Alan: Do you mean the Timothy Dalton ones? He didn’t play it as a Welshman. He didn’t say, “The name’s Bond. Jones the Bond. Double O th-even. Licensed to kill-ch!”. Lynn, are you wearing perfume?
Lynn: Yes.
Alan: For a corpse?
Lynn: No. I’m going to have lunch at TGI Friday’s with Gordon
Alan: What, the retired policeman who’s not a con man?
Lynn: Yes.
Alan: Well, you can have Death By Chocolate while he rifles through your building society book. Right, spectacles, driving gloves, phone, wallet, keys. Sonja, did you get the piccalilli?
Sonja: Yes.
Alan: Chunky?
Sonja: Yes.
Alan: Excellent, let’s go to the graveyard.
Alan and Lynn are at the graveyard:
Alan: Graveyards are so depressing. They remind me of death. There’s a grave over there that I saw, that’s of a man who died in 1872, and he was only three.
Lynn: Snazzy headstone there.
Alan: Yeah. That’s one of those 80’s ones. Black granite. It’s a waste, really. Because if you sliced that three-wise, and laid it end to end, you’d have the lions share of the work surface for a Poggenpohl kitchen. In fact, I bet a lot of these gravestones go missing. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up as the work surfaces in luxury kitchens. They’d have to turn them upside down, of course, so that it didn’t reveal the details of the dead, in recessed lettering. Which would also collect crumbs. Lynn, the anniversary of a dead mum is always a tough one. But I am up against it with this James Bondathon. So if you could limit your morning to [German accent] no more than ten minutes! I’m trying to lighten the mood with a nazi voice.
Lynn: Well, you don’t need to lighten the mood, Alan. I am not down.
Alan: You’ve got ten minutes. Go give it to her.
Alan is back home with Lynn, and gets to meet Gordon:
Lynn: That’s the first year over.
Alan: Yeah, she’s probably up there in heaven right now complaining about, what did she used to call them, “brown people”?. I’ll give her this, Lynn. She stuck to her guns with all that, right to the end. Even on the last day. The way she looked at that nurse. God rest her racist soul. She’ll be horrified. I mean, Jesus was from the Middle East.
Lynn: Was he? Jesus wasn’t brown.
Alan: Lynn, let’s not have that discussion now.
Gordon: Can I come in?
Alan: Sorry, we don’t need our drive tarmacking, thank you very much.
Lynn: This is Gordon.
Alan: Oh, sorry. I thought you were a tinker with tarmac.
Gordon: Nice to meet you.
Alan: And you. Well, there’s Lynn. Look after her. And make sure she’s back here by ten o’clock, and don’t get her pregnant! I believe you’re quite keen on the Bible?
Gordon: I live by it.
Alan: I was reading the book of Genesis the other day. I’ve got to say, that bloody snake.
Gordon: Do you suppose you’ll be prone to temptation, like Adam?
Alan: I think I’d be more preoccupied by the fact that I was encountering a talking snake. I think, whether I wanted an apple or not would be a side issue. Even if it wasn’t a talking snake, even if it just rolled an apple towards me and sort of went… [nodding] …I think I’d still be troubled. After that, I think I’d just put some trunks on, and sit down on the grass.
Lynn: Well, we’ll be off then.
Alan: Great.
Gordon: Well, I’m glad we’re on our own, Alan. I’ve been wanting a word with you, about Lynn. I don’t like the way you treat her.
Alan: Oh.
Gordon: I think you’re a bully. And if you don’t start treating her better, I’m gonna knock your block off. Do I make myself clear?
Alan [sheepish]: Yeah.
Gordon: Do I make myself clear?
Alan: Yeah… Yes.
Gordon: Keep the thought there.
Alan: Aagh! Sorry, I thought you were going ot attack me with your finger.
Gordon: I know when I’m being lied to, you know. I spent a lot of my life being lied to.
Alan: With respect, as an ex-police officer, if you hang around with criminals, you’re gonna get lied to.
Gordon: Think on.
Alan: I’m thinking on. I’m thinking on.
Alan is back in the static home sorting through his Bond collection:
Alan: “Let Die”, “Golden”, “Raker”, “Eyes Only”, “Pussy”, “Daylights”, “Nutty Professor II: The Klumps”, what’s this doing here?
Sonja: I got it for 90p’s in a brilliant charity shop called Scope.
Alan: Scope?  Why do they change the name and ruin it? Consignia and Scope. It’s the Post Office and the Spastic Society. Oh… butter my arse! I’ve just realised. We haven’t got “The Spy Who Loved Me”. I’ve just remembered, I lent it to that bloke who I used to chat to at the petrol station.
Sonja: Michael?
Alan: Was that his name? I’m gonna have to go and get it off him.
John: Hello? [Alan turns around and does karate kick] I reckon I can do a bit of that Bond stuff.
Alan: Yeah. Unfortunately though, I don’t think society’s ready for “View T’Kill”. “Eeeh, Octopussy”.
John: “Doctor Nowt”
Alan: Lovely stuff. Listen, I’ve just cracked open a bottle of Sunny Delight, they’re quite big, and I can’t manage a whole one. Fancy a shot?
John: No thanks. I’ve got to go off to the timber yard.
Alan: I’ll take you. Just grab a couple of straw, no problem. We can stop off at the petrol station on the way.
John: How is your Geordie mate?
Alan: Well, you’ve got to ask yourself some serious questions about a man who sits in a petrol station all day, talking to other men.
Alan and John head to the timber yard, but first they pop into the BP garage:
Alan: Have a look round, John. See if there’s anything you fancy. I’ll treat you.
John: Cheers.
Alan to Michael: Has the Duke of Hazzard been in?
Michael: Er, no, he’s not.
Alan: I’d like you to return my “Spy Who Loved Me” video, and any other property that you have of mine.
Michael: I haven’t got it here, it’s at home.
Alan: Where, in America?
Michael: No, in Lithow Street.
Alan: This is my friend, John. John, don’t be shy. Come out. Show him your tool belt.
Michael: Oh, smart.
Alan: Yeah. It’s interesting, Michael, this obsession you have with American things. And yet you work for British Petroleum. I mean, hello?
Michael: Hello?
Alan: No, it’s a thing people say!
Michael: So, do you want any petrol?
Alan: No, I’m going to be getting it from across the road from now on. Your petrol’s a bit obvious… It’s a bit petrolly. Come on, John. Let’s saddle our horses and get ourselves a curly Cumberland sausage form the Little-biddy Chef. Little Chef.
Michael: Oh, hey. I taped that documentary for ya “The World’s Worst Storms”. Hey, there’s footage of a tsunami, and it comes in and it crashes doon on this village and wipes them all oot.
Alan: Programmes about storms? Get a life! Come on, John. Let’s go to Sprowston.
Alan is back in the static home, where Sonja, Lynn and Gordon are stting on the bonk-ette:
Alan: Oh, hello, Lynn. What are you doing here? A wonderful woman like you should be at home relaxing.
Lynn: You asked me to get you a black marker pen.
Alan: Oh. Thanks. In fact I’ll give you a raise. Eight and a half thousand? Ni… Nine? Nine and a half. Te… Te… Tell you what. Tell you what. It’s nine and half thousand pounds. Let’s all sing it. Tell you what, tell you what. It’s nine and a half thousand pounds.
Lynn: Thank you, Alan.
Alan: “Mrs Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?”.
Lynn: Sonja, why don’t we get some juice, while the men set the world to rights.
Gordon: Still watching you, Alan.
Alan: Yeah, I know. And I’m thinking about it in my block, that you may knock off.
John: That cement’s dried now, Al. So I’ll be off.
Alan: Ah, no, wait. Will you stay and watch a Bond film, please?
John: I can’t, Al. I’ve got too much to do.
Alan: Listen, I have been physically threatened by an ex-fuzz. If you hang around, I will pay you. How much is a monkey?
John: 500
Alan: How much is a mouse?
John: There’s no such amount. Pony’s 150.
Alan: Right, I’ll give you 200. That’s a pony and a bag of hooves.
John: Done.
Alan: Great.
Lynn: I got Sunny Delight…
Alan: Don’t kiss me again [Lynn slips and pours two jugs of Sunny Delight all over Alan’s Bond collection] Aaaaaagh!
Lynn: Alan, I’ve spilt Sunny Delight all over your James Bond videos.
Alan: Lynn, you… [Gordon stands up] … shouldn’t worry about it.
Lynn: Are they repairable?
Alan: I’ll just check them [Bends over and picks the box up and moves it around a bit]  Yeah. They’re ruined. Excuse me. [Walks over to the kitchen and picks up a load of cereals boxes] I’ll just be a minute. [Walks outside and starts beating his cereals with a hammer] Mrs Moneypenny’s an eejit! She’s an eejit!
Alan: Hello, Michael.
Michael: What are ya dee-in’?
Alan: Just destroying my cereals.
Michael: Careful. Folk might say you’re a cereal killer! Here’s ya tape “The Spy Who Loved Me” and all you other stuff.
Alan: Can we make friends? I know said all that stuff…
Michael: No, no. Pffff!
Alan: Pffff!
Michael: Pffff! [then spits]
Alan: Pfff! [then spits] Come on, let’s go and watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”!
Michael: Oh, er. It’s a bit difficult  ‘cause… [Tex’s horn honks in the background] We were just gonna drive roond and blow the horn.
Alan: Michael, you could have blown the horn in my Lexus. All you had to do was ask. You could have sat in the passenger seat and reached across. It’s not on the end of a stalk, it’s on the central steering wheel boss behind the air bag.
Michael: Ah, well ye see. It’s precision engineering, eh? It’s like what you always say, it’s the Japanese Mercedes, eh.
Alan: God, I’ve missed you.
Michael: I’ve missed you an’ all, man. You know, I really have. I just…
Alan: Hi, Tex. We’re having a hoedown. I’m down, but I’m not a ho.
Tex: D’you know there’s a load of Frosties on your step?
Alan: Yes, I know. I’ve just been destroying my cereals. Got a problem with that? You’re welcome to come and watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”, with us.
Tex: Well, thanks very much, but me and Mike are getting of to the Truckfest. [To Michael] We’d better er…
Alan: He’s staying with me.
Michael to Tex: We could see it at Skegness. Timmy Mallet’s gonna be there. It won’t be as good, but.
Tex: All right!
Alan: Great. Fine. Fantastic.
Tex: Thanks very much.
Alan: Let’s watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”! [Sonja, Tex and Michael talk amongst themselves] Stop talking about American things and let’s watch the best film ever made.
Everyone is settled to watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”:
TV: Welcome to “America’s Strongest Man”, where the toughest, mightiest titans…
Alan: Have you taped over “The Spy Who Loved Me” with “ America’s Strongest Man”?
Michael: No, I haven’t. It was Terry, I gave him the tape. He’s done it, it’s his fault.
Tex: I’m really sorry. I really wanted to see the “America’s Strongest Man”.
Alan: Well, now you’ve got “Norfolk’s Maddest Man”! I wanted to watch Roger Moore necking with Fiona Fullerton. And instead, I have to watch a giant Michael Bolton lookalike, in a tight vest, throwing an oven over bales of hay!
Sonja: “The Spy Who Loved Me” is a brilliant film. It begin in forest in Germany…
Alan: It’s Austria! Austria!
John: What’s the one where the laser beam goes up his Jaffas?
Alan: “Goldfinger”!
Michael: What’s the one with the volcano, and it splits up and a big rocket comes oot, and there’s all Chinkies jumping doon?
Tex: Isn’t that “Thunderball”?
Alan: No, no, no! Stop getting Bond wrong! I’ll tell you about “The Spy Who Loved Me”. All do that [holds finger in a circle shape over one eye] with your fingers round your eye. I’m Roger Moore. Bang! Blood dribbles down. We’re on a submarine. Two sailors sit down and have a game of chess. And the cups start wobbling. And then a man that used to be in “The Onedin Line” come in and goes, “Why are all the cups wobbling, what’s going on?” [Michael indicates if he can take his hand away from his eye] Yeah, you can stop doing that now. And Then he pulls down the periscope and he looks through it and goes “Oh, my god. The submarine’s being eaten by a giant tanker”. And then we cut to Moscow. And there’s man there, he’s Russian – he’s got eyebrows, you know. He’s on the phone going “What? A whole submarine? You’re joking?. I’m gonna have to tell some other Russians, see ya!”. And then it cuts to James – Roger Moore – and yes, he’s with a lady. He’s necking with her. And he goes “I’ve got to go, love. Something’s come up!”…
Michael: Aye! He means his cock!
Alan: Anyway, then he puts on his underpants and his ski suit, and he gets on his ski’s and starts skiing. And he’s being chased by these Russian shits in black jumpsuits with lemon piping. And he’s skiing along, and they start shooting at him and he goes “I’ve had enough of that, just stop it!”. And he turns round with his gun, then he does a backward somersault off this ramp and he lands on his feet. I’m not sure why. But, he’s not showing off. And then he goes over a cliff and he’s falling, and you think, “God, James Bond’s going to die! He’s going to die!”. But then, at the last minute…
Michael: He pulls a rip-cord, right. And a parachute comes oot, and it’s got a Union Jack…
Alan: Michael! Michael!
Michael: But that’s how it ends.
Alan: That’s not the end of the beginning. The end of the beginning goes like this. Glang glanga-langa langa langa langa lang. Glang-alang glang-alang alang. [Sings the theme to “The Spy Who Loved Me”]Nobody does it, better… And I’m a naked woman in silhouette with a gun, spinning round. Makes me feel sad for the rest. Nobody does it… Oh, bit of nipple. Quite as good as you, baby you’re the best. And now a really big bounce, right over, and I land on my feet. I wasn’t looking and somehow you found me… Ooh, bit of bush! I tried to hide from your love life… And a woman swinging on a Luger. A giant Luger. Ooh! Look at that. Like heaven above me… And now another naked woman, walking along the top of a gun, completely billy bollocks. The spy who loved me is keeping all my secrets safe tonight… And then one more big swing from a woman, legs go right up.. Oh, what was that? Too late! Nobody does it half as good as you. Baby, you’re the best.
Sonja: Yes! Brilliant!
Alan: So, do you want to hear some more? [cuts to everybody sitting down watching “America’s Strongest Man”]