That was Japan - the effeminate futurists from the 80s -
with "Life Can Be Cruel in Tokyo".
It's certainly congested. I'd love to go.
In the meantime, it's seven o'clock.
Oh, Guv'nor, he's got me bang to rights.
It's Chief Constable Dave Clifton of Scotland Yard's
plainclothes pop force.
- Yes. Good morning, Alan... - Whoa. let me finish.
- Hello, hello, hello. - Yeah.
l think you're splitting hairs.
- Sorry, splidding? - Yes. Splidding, you know.
It's difficult to understand why you say splidding
because in real life you say "splitting."
You substitute "d" for "t" when you're broadcasting.
- It's the behaviour of a dosser. - A dosser?
Yes. A dosser and a dwad.
- Alan Partridge there... - There's others.
There's did-head
and there's dalendess shid.
And rumour says you're back on the boddle.
- This is "Einstein A Go Go". - Gid. That's git.
It's moored in Miami.
Home sweet home.
Yeah.
These corridors.
Yeah, they are, aren't they?
Let myself in. Needed the toilet.
Well, close the door.
So, er...
- everything all right? - Just a bit of tummy trouble.
No, I mean generally. Not specifically the toilet.
- Oh, yes, everything's fine. - Good. So what have you been doing?
I've been getting your clothes ready for the county show,
- and doing a bit of tidying. - Tidying?
What do you mean, tidying?
I just did the bed. I didn't go near your drawer.
Good.
They'd like you to judge the vegetable competition.
- Eh? - Very manly. It works.
All I need now is a shotgun.
Both barrels, bang! You'd hit the wall.
This has the appearance of a bullet-proof vest,
so any fanatics would be put off aItogether
or they'd simply go for a head shot.
In which case I won't even know it's happened.
Alan, I've told you a thousand times, no one wants to kill you.
It defies sense. Why?
I'm a soft target. They won't go for the Prime Minister,
he's surrounded by bouncers.
Yet everyone knows I will be in Swaffham at 3 p.m.
Your mind's flying.
Of course my mind's flying. I've been living in a hotel for 26 weeks!
182 days in a Travel Tavern!
See this, look. Sanitary bags.
They put these in my room every day. They know I'm a man!
I keep loose Werther's Originals in them.
Look at this.
That is 182 bottles of body lotion.
I was going to sell them in a car boot sale.
I can't remember what it's like to dial a number from a telephone
without hitting nine first.
Hello? Reception? Sorry, I must have hit a zero.
I was at a friend's house.
I was tying to make a phone call. I'd been hitting nine, Lynn!
I felt like a ruddy idiot.
I couldn't stay there after that.
- Would you like a Horlicks? - Yes, please.
Not in that drawer.
(KNOCKING) Come in.
Hello. Everything all right with the room?
- Yes, marvellous. - This box arrived for you.
Oh, super. I've been trying to get this box off Carol for months.
- Is that you? - No. That's my daughter, Denise.
Bit of a rebel.
What's so funny?
Nothing. It's just that she really really looks like you.
It's not me. Have I got a pierced navel?
- I don't know. - I haven't.
Oh, great. Nigel Rees' Book of Humorous Graffiti.
This is the Koran for the after-dinner speaker.
A quick tip, Sophie. If you do an after-dinner speech,
you say, "Sorry I'm late. I just popped to the toilet,
"and I saw some graffiti that said,
"'I used to be indecisive but now I'm not so sure'".
Straight away you've got them by the Jaffas.
It's witty. Not like a lot of graffiti you see these days.
Just crude, like...
Touch my this.
Suck my such and such.
Something all over my whatever.
My penis is so and so.
Yeah.
There we go, Lynn. Tony Hayers.
I tell you, you've not witnessed pure evil
until you've looked at the man who's just cancelled your second series.
- He looks quite nice. - The devil can take many forms.
All right, Lynn.
She's a member of a Baptist Church. I think they're a bit...
Sorry about saying penis earlier.
Don't worry. Trapped her finger in a door once, she swore like a docker.
I brought you some more stationery. I'll just put it in the drawer.
I'd rather you didn't.
- Are you all right for body lotion? - Yeah. I've got 182 bottles.
Bloody hell.
Clydesdale horses. 12 hands high.
Hands, of course, the ancient system for measuring horses
that's been around since medieval times.
Of course, tape measures in those days were viewed with suspicion.
Anyone who could unfurl 15 feet of thin sheet metal
from a pocket-sized box would have been killed as a witch.
It's tragic to think, actually, that girls -
some as young as the ones holding balloons over there -
would have been burnt at the stake.
May God have mercy on their souls.
A nice tray of plums there.
Just put "nice plums".
This is lovely, this. It's sort of like an old lady's hair.
An old lady's blonde hair.
Quite attractive. Put that down as a plus point.
These are nice. Got a nice kind of glossy finish.
I knew a bloke who had fingers like that.
He's dead now.
An Irish navvy. Angina.
Wasn't pleasant.
Cabbages. Don't like cabbages at all. Let's get through this lot.
They're all rubbish, so take your pick.
And I'm not sure about these.
I don't know whether this protrusion is a good or bad thing.
This is a good murder weapon because you could beat them to death,
then eat the evidence.
Agatha Christie's probably already thought of that one.
The onion mystery. The onion murders.
Good idea for a programme.
Not that the BBC would commission it.
They wouldn't know a good idea if I hit them over the head with it
then ate the evidence.
Fire! Fire! The fair's on fire!
I'm joking, of course it's not,
but that's the kind of thing you can see from...oh, what are they called?
The local fire brigade in tent four.
My own tip is never throw water on a fat fire.
It'll take your face off.
The stocks are now open for custard-pie throwing.
I tell you who I'd like to put in the stocks.
Tony Hayers.
He's the Chief Commissioning Editor of BBC Television.
And it wouldn't be custard pies I'd be throwing at him either.
I'd like to throw cabbages, hot Bovril and gravel.
With BBC commissioning policy,
they are obliged to contract out
a certain percentage of their programmes
to independent programme makers.
And I think it...
You're not even listening, are you?
You people.
I'm going.
It's all wrapping up in about an hour anyway,
so I don't think you'll miss me.
(BUZZING)
Hello, Lynn.
Oh, Sorry. I was just doing the catalogues.
Looking at the big girdle section?
It's interesting that these women are technically models.
Where do they get these men from?
Who smiles at a Black & Decker Workmate for goodness sake?
How did the county show go, Alan?
- I walked off. - Who's upset you this time?
Just people.
I just hate the general public.
- Alan? There's a call for you. - Who is it?
- It's Sue Cook. - What does she want?
Hello, Sue. It's Alan.
Yeah.
Take the fag out of your mouth. I can't tell what you're saying.
What? Really?
Oh, my God! Tony Hayers is dead.
Yes!
He fell off his roof, tying to remove the aerial. Broke his neck.
So who's replaced him as Head of Programmes? Chris Feathers?
That's an interesting choice.
Right. I mean, he's definitely dead?
Right. Presumably, there's going to be some sort of funeral?
They're cremating him? Good, good.
Right. And will Chris Feathers be at the funeral?
Right, right.
Can you hold on a moment, Sue? Chris Feathers likes me.
He likes me, doesn't he?
He used to flirt with Lynn all the time.
Mind you, that was 20 years ago.
Right. I think I'll be going along, yes.
That's the least I can do.
Thanks, Sue. You can puff away now.
Kiss my face!
Alan!
Put it there, Lynn.
- Hello. - Hello. You going to the lift, too?
Lift? Yes.
- First? - Yes.
- Ping! - Pardon?
The noise the door makes... (PING!)
Oh! Excellent.
Eeow!
- It's like cars, this. - That's right.
Excellent.
Chris. Chris Feathers. Hi.
- Alan, how are you? - Well, very well.
I mean, considering.
Oh, yes. Brilliant man.
Yes. He had a second-class honours degree in media studies
from Loughborough University.
What a waste.
They've asked me to take over Tony's job as Chief Commissioning Editor.
I had heard something.
- Can l...? - Just two minutes.
Right.
- Jane. - Thank you for coming.
Can I offer you my deep, deep...
despair on this very bad day?
Thank you.
I mean, how are you coping?
Oh, well, terrible really.
We'd booked to go on holiday next week.
Bugger!
- He'd have been 41 next month. - Oh, God.
All those people that say life begins at 4O.
They're notable by their absence. The nerve!
Were you close?
- He was my husband. - Yes, yes, of course.
What was he doing on the bloody roof?
- He was getting the aerial. - I know. I was being rhetorical.
- Did the aerial come down with him? - Yes, it did.
So the last thing he did was an act of kindness.
Thank you for the travel clock.
- You got it? - Yes.
- Littlewoods are very quick. - They are, yes.
Anyway, commiserations.
Hang on in there. I'm sure you'll bounce back.
If there's anything I can do, just ask.
Apart for heavy lifting. I've got a bad back.
(PHONE RINGS)
Shall I leave that?
- Yes, I think so. - I'd better answer it.
Hello. Partridge.
- Can you go outside? - All right.
Oh, Curry's, great.
No. I was just talking to a widow.
Look. I want two speakers for an Alba stereo system.
Hello? Battery.
Peter, hello.
Oh, Alan, have you met Peter?
He's revamped News and Current Affairs.
- Chris... - Just two minutes.
- Bad day. - Yeah. Mmm.
Ironic, really. He worked in television his whole life
died getting an aerial off a roof.
So in the end it was television that killed him.
Very good. Have you got a battery for an Erickson?
No.
I wonder if he's up there now, looking down on us.
What, on the roof?
Oh, I see. You mean in Heaven with the apostles.
The interesting thing about News and Current Affairs...
Would it be rude to stop listening to you and speak to somebody else?
No, fine.
Jane.
- Chris? - Oh, Alan.
- Have you met Jane? - Yeah. I've done her.
Oh, good.
- Chris, can l...? - Just two minutes.
He keeps saying that.
Just tying to think of something to say.
There's nothing to say.
- Well... - No. There's nothing you can say.
Hang on, hang on.
It's all...
a pain in the arse, isn't it?
Have you got a battery for an Erickson?
- No! - No, of course not.
Is something the matter?
Um, I want to go and talk to him over there.
Well, go and talk to him!
Thank you.
Chris, can we have a chat?
Yes, of course, Alan.
- Dreadful business. - Oh, awful. Awful business.
- Can you see me tomorrow? - I'd love to.
- I need to pick your brains. - Pick away.
- You've got the common touch. - Thank you.
You've been away too long.
Alan, I want you back on the telly.
Jurassic Park!
That is fantastic, you know. Great.
- The old team, eh? - Absolutely. Yeah.
I'll see you tomorrow.
Terrible news, terrible news.
# Life isn't everything... #
# Life, it's the name of the game,
# And I want to play the game with you
# Ba da da da-da da-da da da da... #
- How was your...? - Bam!
How was your day, Alan?
I went to a funeral, which was very sad,
and then I popped into Hi-Fi Serious
to pick up a top-of-the-range Bang & Olufsen stereo system.
- Do you like it? - Well, it's in a box.
A bit like Tony Hayers.
Susan, will you go out with me?
No.
If I was young and more attractive?
Yes, I think I probably would.
I'd better go and build that time-travel gymnasium, then.
I'll come back aged 25, built like a brick shit-house.
Then you'll kiss me.
If you will excuse me, Alan? I have to leave the desk unattended.
Hello, Mr Partridge.
I'll have to make two trips. I keep dropping bits.
I'll go and get your other bits.
Bang & Olufsen? Wow, that's serious, man. Whose is it?
It's mine.
I didn't know you were into music. I've heard your show.
Yeah. I like all the bands.
I've got a broad taste,
from the Brit-pop bands like UB4O, Def leppard,
right back to classic rock, like Wings.
Who's Wings?
They're only the band The Beatles could have been.
- I love The Beatles. - Yeah. So do I.
- What's your favourite Beatles album? - Tough one.
I think I'd have to say The Best of The Beatles.
- Gum? - Yeah. Cheers.
So who's your favourite singer, then?
Oh, anything really, you know. Frank Sinatra. Kurt Cobain.
- Who's he? - Nirvana. Blew his head off?
- Why? - He was depressed.
- Why? Were they not very good? - No, they were great.
Someone should have told him.
Hello again. Oh, what's that?
Bang & Olufsen.
(HE LAUGHS)
Ben, can you take this up to my room?
- Yeah. Sure. No problem. - Cheers.
- I'll hold the door for you. - Thank you.
- Hold tight. - Yeah.
Nearly there.
Unbelievable.
Join in, then.
So, Chris, what's your strategy?
God alone knows, Alan.
Can I say one word to you? Streamlining.
- That's sacking people. - Well, basically, yeah.
Well, where do I start?
Who was that man who was boring me at the funeral?
Peter? He's just revamped News and Current Affairs.
Yeah, but he's finished now.
So give him a painting of a Spitfire and let him go.
OK.
And Susan Pickardy? You know her?
Oh, yeah. Documentaries. Feminist with the flat chest.
She doesn't have that problem, does she?
Don't crush them, Lynn!
How are you? Did you get married?
- No. - I got divorced, you know.
I'm sure Lynn would be happy to go for a drink with you,
- if that'll help things. - Yes, yes.
Make a note of that, Lynn.
Go for drink with Head of Programmes.
Great. Well, let's get down to business.
Can we talk about...
me?
Yeah. All right. What can I do for you?
Right. Bottom line, Chris.
I want a six-month contract at the BBC to make television programmes.
No. I'm not going to give you a six-month contract.
You're just like all the rest, aren't you?
You sit there on your fat behind,
in a dead man's chair leching at her like a piece of meat...
Alan, Alan! I'm not going to give you a six-month contract,
because I have prepared a five-year one.
Uh?
That's brilliant.
£200,OOO a year.
That's a million pounds!
Jurassic Park.
I'm sorry for saying you were fat. You're just big-boned.
That's all right.
Let's celebrate! Let's get a bottle of Bolly.
Sod that. Let's have some champagne.
On me. Go on, Lynn. Go and get it.
Right, then.
(GASPING COUGH)
I suppose you want to check the small print.
Come on, Chris. You've seen dozens of contracts like that.
Oh, no!
Oh, no.
Chris?
Chris!
Oh, God! Um...
Hello, Chris. Are you dead?
Oh, God!
Just finish signing it there.
Just like that.
Tedious, all this contract business.
Oh, you've got the date wrong there. Just initial that.
And my copy.
Here's to the future.
Sorry.
Do you think that's all right? Not too sentimental? Excellent.
- Do you want to put something on? - Yes.
I'll just go and check the party bags.
(ORCHESTRAL MUSIC PLAYS)
What's this, Lynn?
- The theme tune from "Black Beauty". - It's brilliant.
(KNOCKING)
- Hello. Michael. - Aye aye, Mr Partridge.
Michael, do you want me to take that?
No. I'll stick with it, man.
It does preclude you from the alcohol that I've provided.
I'm all right with the scrumpy!
Right.
That's a nice shirt.
I got married in this. I got it from Manila.
- I didn't know you were married. - Aye.
A Filipino lassie. It didn't work out.
She didn't like Newcastle or the culture.
Has she gone back home?
No. She moved to Sunderland.
- She's shacked up with my brother. - Oh, right.
Michael, would you like a miniature scotch egg?
Not for me. I've got a steak and kidney pie.
I've sat on the bastard. Would you believe it?
Can you keep an eye on him?
Yes. (KNOCKING)
- Thank God for that. - Aye aye.
Hello.
- Come in. - Thank you very much.
- Want a glass of wine? - Thank you very much. Cheers.
- What's he doing here? - You said invite a guest.
That's just a phrase. I didn't mean it.
Nice room.
So who are you?
Mike Sampson. Pleased to meet you.
I'm Michael an' all.
So have you got a job?
Oh, yes. I supply fitted kitchens.
The funny thing is I've been in the business for 15 years,
but I can't actually cook!
This cookery book wouldn't be much use to me!
Mr Partridge, he sells kitchens for 15 years, but he can't cook.
I know. I heard him.
Then he says, "That cookbook would be nae good for me"!
I know. I heard him.
Come on, lighten up, you stuffy git.
Lynn, this is terrible. This is terrible.
(KNOCKING) Oh, good, great.
Oh, the cavalry. Come on in.
Look at the sign. It says, "Thank you, staff, and goodbye".
- Marvellous. - It's all happening now.
This is Michael. He sells kitchens.
How do you do? I was just saying, I sell kitchens,
but I can't actually cook myself!
Then he spies that cookbook and says, "It'd be nae use to me"!
He's crackers, man.
So, Mike, where do you live?
Oh, I come from Acton in West london.
- Is that nice? - Yes, it's quite nice.
A few too many blacks!
l hope you don't mind,
it's just some people find what you said a bit racist.
- Party bag. - Oh, thank you. Bye bye.
- Watch the fire hose. - Whoo!
# Oh, rattling roaring Willy is he He's off to the BBC
# Oh, Willy goes there and Willy goes there and there
# Willy goes there and Willy goes there and there... #
Extraordinary.
So what do people think
about the pedestrianisation of Norwich city centre?
Oh, aye. I reckon it's a really good idea, like.
- You're wrong. - Oh, man. What about, you know...
mothers with pushchairs and little bairns.
You've got a lot to learn.
No. It's you that's got a lot to learn!
Michael! Michael, Mr Partridge is still a guest in this hotel.
I think you've had just a little too much to drink,
and maybe it's time that you should leave.
If that's how you feel.
Now, you two can stop giggling.
Don't know what her problem is.
I'll tell you what my problem is!
Having to listen to your crap for the last six months!
You've been in this hotel for 182 days, you little shit!
Ben, Sophie, I want you in reception.
And you!
Check out is twelve noon tomorrow!
Do you want one of these?
A sanitary bag?!
What are you tying to say?!
I think that went quite well.
Shall we clear up? I fancy an early night.
Shall I put "Black Beauty" on again?
Yes. We can clear up while we listen to "Black Beauty".
(MUSIC PLAYS)
- Down the sink? - Yep.
Down the sink.