S01E01: Seldom

"Police, what's your emergency?".

Hello, I think- I think I've just been attacked!

"You think you've just been attacked?".

I- I- I've been attacked, someone just came up and attacked me.

"Okay. Hold on please, I'll get someone out there. How long ago did this happen?"

J- just now! He just attacked me with a toffee hammer!

"Who attacked you and are they still there?".

I don't know who it was!

"Are you on your own?".

Yes, I'm on my own, he he he just attacked me.

"Are you okay or do you need an ambulance?".

I don't think so… I think so, I think so.

"You think you're okay, or you think you need an ambulance?".

Yes. Er er er, ambulance please. I don't need to lie down on a gurney but I do need to sit down on a chair in an ambulance probably with a siren on.

"Okay stay where you are, stay on the line someone's coming out there".

I'm just going to stop you there, I have to tell you this is just a fake- [recording fades to background]

[VO] I'm Alan Partridge and that 999 call was a bit of harmless fun to help me illustrate a point…

[in the background, the recording continues with the emergency response operator explaining "…that's wasting police time and I'm going to have to report you for that"]

…which is that - just gonna stop that [recording stops] - which is that not all attacks are treated the same.

If you've been attacked by a hammer, be it claw, sledge, toffee, mallet or ball pein you can phone the police. That's as it should be, hammering people is wrong!

But what if you've been attacked by words? What if the attacks have taken the form of Twitter trolling? What if you've been called a sissy one hundred times, who would you call then? Is there a Sissy Hotline?

If you're going to jump off a bridge there's someone you can call. If you're a child being abused and you don't want to speak to a dinner lady, there's someone you can call.

If you're a woman, there are loads of people you can call and stay on the phone for ages, but if you're a man and the attack takes a form of a hurtful slander, you can whistle.

As a public figure, slander and scuttlebutt dog me every day and, sure, it comes with the territory. When you live your life in the public eye you're a target; John Lennon, Gianni Versace, John Prescott when he got egged then battered the berk.

Yet there has to be a limit which is why I'm launching this podcast, because the lies aimed at me, posted on social media, and swirling around the press are intended to dirty my character and maim my brand.

And recently they've got worse, rumours that'd be laughable if they weren't so seriously unfunny. I tried laughing them off and I managed about twenty minutes before my cheeks got tired and I got upset, they're hurtful and they are damaging! "I saw Alan Partridge in ASDA", "I saw him in an Argos!", people will try to destroy you! "I saw him throwing a ball for his dog in the park, he was bowling underarm!". Yeah! I was! I have a reason, but I'm certainly under no obligation to explain myself to you.

Is it an impingement of the rotator cuff? Might be, but I ain't gonna tell you, boy. One chap in particular, I won't name him, who's been waging a campaign of hate against me for several months, just poison. "I saw Alan Partridge in a public swimming baths, he was doing widths!". Get a life! Or get a death, don't mind. It's - [reading tweets] oh that's interesting, doesn't mention that I dived off the top board. Hmm. Interesting.

There's another one from yesterday, l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-listen to this, "I saw his wing mirror clip that of another car and now we have definite proof Alan Partridge doesn't know the width of his vehicle!". Let me tell you something, mate, it's not just a lie, it's not just bull, it's libel.

If I found the guy and I - actually I will name him, he goes by the Twitter name of High Noon - if I found him I'd make him park his car near to another, say, six and a half feet from the other car, then I drive my car through the gap at high speed just to piss him off. And if I did clip his wing mirror then he's won, but I just keep going. The guy’s obviously got issues in his life and that's why he's lashing out, I get that.

I found myself in a bad place before, and of course I always felt better after I defamed someone by amending their Wikipedia page, but I’m not proud of it. Now I'm ashamed to say I've started several rumours that gained some traction. I said Trevor McDonald had nits. Er, Bryan Ferry can't ride a bike. John Humphries hung a rabbit from a tree. The last one I got a cease And desist letter, and so I did. But I’d already said it by then.

But it's no way to go about things, and ultimately it doesn't make you happy. Oh, I also said Fiona Bruce doesn't brush her teeth. But just because this guy's got massive personal issues it wouldn't be right to let it lie, so I thought what better way to explode the myths, then, by getting on the mic? 

I could have used the form of my successful BBC One magazine show, er, but you have to deal with producers, exec producers, the woman from Compliance saying things like “There are guidelines!” or “Oh, I'll have to ask Paul!”. Similarly, I could return to the North Norfolk Digital radio studio and address my public that way with a weekly show, say, but I... I had an issue with a colleague and I, er, I've been advised to say that… to say simply that I-I-I-I left under a bit of a cloud. Let's leave it at that. Erm, yeah. Yeah. Yes, but er, but anyway the… let's let’s just say there are different kinds of clouds, leave it at that.

Yeah, I mean… a cloud doesn't get shoved for no reason… leave-leave-leave it at that.

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Hi, hey guys welcome to “Holmes and Watson”. ‘Holmes’ because it's about what you can watch in your homes, and ‘Watson’ because it's ‘Watson’ in Norwich, “What’s On in Norwich”. 

In your homes, why not catch up with Forged In Fire, in which middle-aged men get together to make swords because they're lonely?

As for What's On, well why not head to The Fob and Ferkin to hear debut gig by Toby Meber, electronic musician and son of the late voiceover artist John Meber? He's not a confident lad, but I know his mum's going, and my god he knows his way around a synthesizer!

Holmes and What’s On. Elementary!

So I put my thinking cap on and thought, what medium allows me to communicate publicly but without OFCOM regulations, or red tape, or radio producers who scream in my face and then they grab their arm, and then they sit down on a chair and everyone gathers around them, you know like he's the one they should feel sorry for! And then in a moment of quiet, it struck me like a bolt from the blue, one word:

Podcast!

Yeah, a podcast. Because of all media it's the one medium I've yet to tackle [dog starts barking in the background] I’ve - shit! - Seldom! Seldom, calm down! Calm! Down! [barking stops] Sorry, that’s just my dog Seldom.

So yeah I've communicated via television, radio, digital radio, theatre with a Partridge Playhouse troupe before it soured. Self-improvement seminars under the Forward Solutions brand, a range of relaxation tapes, corporate video, one thinks of Be The Best Fire Warden, or the ground-breaking So You Say You've Been Sexually Harassed.

In Great Yarmouth Town Hall I’m the voice of the lift, anyone who purchases a sat-nav from Taiwan tech giant Superbest can enjoy my voice saying “Keep left” or “In 100 yards, turn right” or “Get in lane!”. I've lit up the silver screen too, voicing pre-movie cinema commercials which were played in selected cinemas in the early '90s, such as for the Norfolk Egg Board; 'They're happy because they eat eggs!', although I'm perhaps best known for 'Fireworks! Don’t Muck About!'

Yep, I've done a lot, but I've never done a podcast. It's something I've talked about with my team for some time, er… I had been resistant to podcasting, of course I had. Like most people, I assumed people who hosted podcasts were pale, tech-obsessed social lepers who couldn't get a platform on any meaningful broadcaster so started spouting their bloated opinions into their USB microphones to flatter their groaning self of sense importance.

But then, I was made an offer by the guys at Audible, who are now my best friends, with the financial package that didn't just whet my appetite it drenched it! It drenched it until it was squelchy, so it'll be a combination of off-the-cuff, and things I've written down the night before to read out loud such as the portion I'm reading now. And I became so excited by the idea that I stopped feeling miffed about people harming my brand or scurrilous lies, and I just started to think positively about what this podcast could be, and if I could damage my enemies along the way, great!

I thought this could be something quite special and so over the course of the next eighteen episodes, I want you to sit down, relax, and look inside me! And I want you to look right inside, into my life and my house. No guests, no stunts, no discernible shape or form. Just me at home doing what I do, pottering, padding and pootling about. 

Frankly it's new territory so you're gonna have to adjust some people will thoroughly enjoy an embrace this new experience with an open-minded positivity. Of course they'll be a few people who dislike it. People who say "I prefer Alan on television", or clever people who say "I prefer the early stuff!". But the people who say things like that, I'm afraid, are just unhappy people. And they'll be yet more people who have no view whatsoever, and I'm fine with that, I completely respect the lack of interest and they don't need to tell me that, if they see me at an airport they can just keep it to themselves, I'm fine with that as well. 

And I'll have to adjust too! I've always been a fiercely private man. I'm a man who spent seven of the last eleven Christmasses alone! Why? Well some people like to spend Christmas day with family and friends and god bless each and every one, but I like to go to a homeless shelter to help the meek and the needy - but not the greedy - and I'll give them as much soup as they like and one mince pie.

This is going to shock you but when I go and give food to tramps, I feel like I'm the one who's being nourished? But, not with soup, I-I-I wouldn't I wouldn't eat the soup, you know I'm just… I'm not- I'm not eating tramp soup! But er… no, I mean yeah, to see the faces, row upon row of grateful vagrants, there is… there's no greater pleasure than just seeing a bum smile.

Sorry, I've just realized how that sounds! Hard to imagine a bum smiling, unless the woman's lying on her side, in which case, very easy. Yeah. As long it's not a toothy grin! [pause] Eurgh. Sorry. As I say, you know, some bits written the night before, other bits are spontaneous.

[opening theme music]

I'm Alan Partridge, this is my podcast; From The Oasthouse!

So! Here it is! From The Oasthouse. A chance to see me at home and learn more about the real me and get a flavour of Partridge. Er, that sounds like a crisp doesn’t it? I’ll… pass that idea on to Gary Lineker and the Walker's Team, 'Special Edition' variety. They would have to be quite gamey so it wouldn't be a mass market snack. 

I was once asked by a magazine, if I could be any crisp flavour what would I be, and I said, quick as a flash, Ready Salted, because I'm straightforward, effective, British, and I go great with a pint! But in reality, I just didn't want my brand to be associated with the, er… ‘halitosic’ qualities of your Cheese & Onions, your Beef & Onions, because you can't eat bag of that and then whisper a witty remark in someone’s ear because they’ll just think, "He's got beef breath like a dog!".

Why start today? Well, because I'm essentially trapped in my house! You see it's not merely the rumour-mongers who are out to get me. Unfortunately my dog Seldom, a 250lb brown dog - can't be any more specific than that - is currently on the warpath as well, er, [moving away from the mic] I'll just quickly check if he’s still there…

Seldom. That's his name. [door opening, dog barks outside] Yep. Still there. 

Er, that's so… Yes, that was… You may have seen Seldom in the documentary I made called Scissored Isle, he very much put the 'dog' into ‘dogumentary’. That’s another bit I wrote in bed.

Seldom is huge, I mean… he's sort of one-and-a-half men. Erm… When I take him for a walk in the wood, I have to wear crampons and adopt a wide-legged, crouching position, lean back and dig my spikes into the mud… it's a technique which is actually banned in Round Table Tug Of War competitions, but that's the power he has.

Basically, we had a small falling out, he became agitated when he saw the postman come down the drive and - and I can’t believe the guy was doing this - eating a sandwich. There's a sign on the gate that says “Beware! Large Dog!”, ‘large’ in italics, and then underneath, “Please-”, in capital letters, “NO SANDWICHES!”. 

But this postman, I don't know whether he's new or Polish, was openly chomping on a fish bap. I picked up the intercom and said-, "Attention! Drop the sandwich and run, I repeat, drop the sandwich and run!", he ran but he didn't drop the sandwich which was the worst possible thing he could have done, he latched the gate but Seldom just smashed straight through it, cheap pine, at which point he did drop the sandwich but Seldom failed to see that and chased the guy for a long time.

He didn't attack him but he did manage to pull his trousers off so now I'm gonna be saddled with a bill for £19.99. Long story short, Seldom is now pacing the grounds and I've had to lock myself in the Oasthouse. He is so full of testosterone, that dog. A friend of mine, very funny, he said he said Seldom made Chewbacca look like John Inman from 'Are You Being Served?'.

Yeah great series, the whole the whole family used to sit around and watch 'Are You Being Served?'. I love the way the old homosexuals used to talk, [overly camp voice] “Ooooh hellooo!”, ha ha haa! Marvellous stuff! [to an agitated Seldom] Hey, Heyheyhey! Hey! Hey! It's me, it's just me, it's just me doing a voice. Just doing a voice.

He's a great dog but, er, but he's a bigot. Still, it affords me the chance to tell you about me. That's not to say I'll be the only character in the podcast - there'll be another one, and a significant one, too! What can I tell you about them? Well she's large, she's warm, she's quiet and she lets me fall asleep inside her, I'm talking about my house.

Not lived here that long, until eighteen months ago I lived in a much larger residence, the mortgage of which crippled me. Seven bedrooms, it was too large but it was an ambitious purchase. I was called into the bank and me, the bank manager, my assistant and a couple of trusted associates, Daryl Flench and his friend, decided as a group, both for my financial wellbeing and to aid and abet a good night's sleep, that I should move to a cheaper house in a cheaper area. And I've got to say, the day I sold it was like getting a very, very, very heavy monkey off my back, and I mean that physically. I kept running up and down the stairs saying "I can't believe how light I feel!" And now my residence is this place, The Oasthouse. 

Oasthouses were traditionally constructed in the early 19th century to dry hops as part of the brewing process. There are very few oasthouses left in England so mine is a replica, but if I sell it I can't list it as an oasthouse I have to list it as a "Oast-style house". Talk to most people with rural homes and it's always barn-this or stable-that… I mean it's so tired and cliched, "We thought we would put you up in this stable", "Oh you must come and stay in the barn!", fuck off! 

Me are some of the guys at the Racquets Club were talking about this and we agreed that if we ever built a rural annex it was never going to be a stable or a barn, so Derek's is The Forge, Ed is calling his The Granary, Phil’s is The Piggery. Dominic, The Hemel. Others have gone for The Mill, The Bee Bowl, The Cart Shed, The Ciderhouse and the Bastille. I had on my heart set on the Dovecote but Steve Greaves dug his heels in and we have a rule that no one can double up on nomenclature. 

I was nursing my wound, staring into my pint, thinking about the brewing process when it just came to me, [clicks finger] Oasthouse! Then suddenly Steve changes tune, he’s like Rumpelstiltskin hopping up down saying "Swap you swap you swap you!", I was like [affected working class voice] "Naaah, you're alright mate! You're alright in your dovecote! Naaaah! Get stuffed!".

Aah, he's alright, he'll be fine. But The Oasthouse it is, and I like it and I hope you will. And I want to say to you, "Come inside, kick your shoes off, let me show you around and we can get to know each other". It's just like being my best blind friend. And whilst I don't have any blind friends, in fact none of my friends have special needs of any kind, I do [mock Texan drawl] appreciate y'all bein’ here.

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Um, I'm just going to check on the dog. Oh god. He's just sitting there, about ten yards from the house. I hope he calms down soon, I'm supposed to be meeting a woman for a date at eleven, she texted to say - I'll read it to you - it says "I'm not comfortable with dinner but what we'll do is meet at 11 for brunch and if we get on we can go swimming so bring your towel in case we get on. Don't be late!", but with a smiley face and a wink so, you know, but even so I don’t want to be late. 

The upshot of which is, I need to get to the car which I can only do if Seldom is not in a mood anymore. I find the only way to calm a heavy, carnivorous quadruped is feed him meat, which is why I've planed off the bottom centimetre of the door, because I find although he'd never eat Ryvita, I can use it as a meat delivery system. Pop on a piece of salami, slide it under the door and he'll lick or slurp off the meat and very often push the Ryvita back. Generally one Ryvita is good for four or five deliveries after which due to ingress from Seldom’s saliva, the Ryvita matrix fails, and I find that's the best way to mollify, subdue, calm or quell a big, cross dog.

[pause]

I think… the coast might be clear.

Seldom?

Seldom?

He's certainly not between me and the car anymore. I think we should strike while the iron is hot. [muttering to himself] Okay, so car keys, coat on, clip mic, er, towel, best trunks… [sighs] No time like the present… [swallow and deep breath] and go!

Shit, he’s seen me! [cross dog sounds getting closer] get away get away get away! [Exhausted] Oh! You've been listening to [breath] Alan Partridge… Live, well not live it's just er… You’ve been listening to Alan Partridge, From The Oasthouse.

[very out of breath] Oh god. Safe.

[Closing theme music]