S02E07: Time Travel

[lilting oboe music, Alan is outdoors]

Hello and welcome to 'From - 'to from' can be part of the same sentence, there's an inverted comma before the from if you must know, but you'll discover that in retrospect if I can just get on with a ruddy sentence - hello! And welcome to 'From the Oasthouse' with me, Alan Partridge. My opening words were accompanied today by an oboe, for my money the saddest of the woodwind instruments. Even the word 'oboe' sounds like someone with a cold or big adenoids trying to say "Oh no!".

It's funny, the rest of the woodwind family don't sound sad at all, if anything they produce gently-comical noises, be it the duck quack of the clarinet, the flatulent honk of the bassoon, the - just traversing a style here - the breathless titter of the flute, and the saxophone just sounds sexy! It looks sexy too, with its curves and its knobs - I mean, nippl- buttons - I always think if I was directing a movie and there was a love scene, I'd accompany it with saxophone music.

I have a CD called 'Sensual Saxophone Volume 3'. That's not a sound-level suggestion, it's just the issue number. I always think it's the perfect accompaniment to gentle lovemaking. You just need a gentle sax, low lighting or an open fire, or a bar fire with just one bar on, a fat candle, again for lighting reasons, and then a few more practical items by the bed; jug of orange squash, flat pack of wet wipes, and you don't have to do this, but I like to be belt and braces, your next of kin's name and number on a Post-It note. 

Oh, and comfortable clothing for the post-coital chill-out. She might like to don a gown, I like a baggy vest and trunks. And it's not just the background music that's doleful, those of you with keen hearing, the more, er... I nearly said eagle-eyed then, but what would the phrase be? Eagle-eyed but for ears?

Dog-eared? Actually, dog-eared means something else, like you've seen better days. I know some of you say that's true of my listeners, that they're overwhelmingly middle-to-late-age, but might surprise you to know that one of my listeners I met the other week was a 34-year-old woman with blonde, short hair who works at the swimming baths. Lives with a woman, very nice lady, but the bat-eared - that's what I was after! - the bat-eared among you will have heard a slightly maudlin register to my voice, because I'm feeling, and I always say this in a childish voice to avoid awkwardness, make people feel a bit more comfortable, I'm feeling a ickle bit lonely!

Yeah, a bit down in the dumps. And how come? Well, I was on my speed-walk yesterday, just as I do every day. I alternate between jogging and speed-walking because I have a bit of a floating cartilage around the hip which causes agony if it gets inflamed. But yesterday, for some reason, be it the Lycra bodysuit or my big red face, my walk seemed to tickle a couple of bystanders who gave me some verbals. There were three council workers who do the gardening in the local park. I say gardening, they pick up dog shit and cut the grass. Not exactly Monty Don!

They seemed to find my upright walking style, my rigid gait amusing. And I get that, there's no way to speed walk that doesn't look like you're trying to get to a campsite toilet after eating some old ham. I think one of the chaps called me a mincer and I just pretended I didn't hear it. What made me sad was it reminded me of what had happened previously. That time was the same three guys but it was when my late canine companion, Seldom, was alive and happened to be with me.

He wasn't much of a walker but he'd sometimes lie on his big skateboard and he'd let me tow him through the park. It was sort of a homemade-skateboard really, just a bogie which is sort of a gurney with bicycle wheels. It looked like I was taking him to market, but he enjoyed it!

It's fair to say Seldom took against those three menial workers with gusto! He didn't like to be mocked, even indirectly. I remember he absolutely went for them, either to defend my honour or because one of them had a sandwich he wanted. And sure enough, the er... [chuckles] it was a great day actually. The heckling horticulturalists ended up having to hide in the back of the pickup and Seldom barked and snarled and hurled himself against the bodywork. One of the guys ended up wetting himself which was just delicious! I mean the moment, rather than the urine. 

But yesterday there was no beloved, dangerous dog to defend me and that smarted. I realise just how much I miss him.

While my dog-owning days are over I thought to myself "What I wouldn't give to go back to a time when Seldom was alive so he could terrify these council gardeners until they lose bladder control". In fact what I wouldn't give to go back a couple of years and put Seldom on a low cholesterol diet so his heart wouldn't pack up. Easier said than done of course, he loved his eggs, loved his beef. His whole diet was effed-up. Seldom was one of the few dogs I know who would love to drink a big steel salad bowl full of Coca-Cola.

I'd never seen a dog burp before that, but my god! He'd burp with such gusto his eyes could water, I'd just pat him and say "Good boy!". And it had to be Coca-Cola, I once gave him Fentiman's Cola and he just put his foot on my foot and shook his head as if to say "Don't do that again, mate!". And I was remarking on that feeling of regret and how much I missed that time as I chatted to a chap I've been seeing every Wednesday morning. It's nothing serious it's just that now and then I'd find myself at traffic lights not driving off when the lights had turned green until someone bibbed me from behind.

It was as if... I was asleep with my eyes open, does that make sense? As if the bibbing was music. Does that make sense? Almost as if the traffic lights were fairy lights. Does that make sense? And I got talking about it to a neighbour. He said "You should chat to someone". I said "Well that's what we're doing now", he said "Yeah, but someone with skills and time!". And so that's what I do. He's not a shrink or anything he's just a sounding-board really.

Officially a counsellor, I think the academic-threshold is a lot lower and it shows. He's, like I say, a sounding-board, a listening post who helps me to unjumble some of the knotty thoughts that can fester, and have been festering in the old brain-box. I say 'listening post', I'm never fully sure he's listening. To be fair, he's never fiddling with his phone but I can't help wondering that he's thinking about something else. His nodding is a bit robotic and he's cultivated a sort of generic 'Hmm!' noise that could mean anything. Sort of a 'hmm-mmm?' or a 'hmmmm!'.

You know, but as I say it could mean anything from "I know what you mean", to "That's a shame", to "Tell me more", to "I must remember to go to Boots", to "Those eggs at breakfast were nice. I'm going to buy more of those eggs". 

This chap, let's call him Jeff because I don't like his real name which is Jez, Jeff listened to me hankering after the past and he said "No point looking back. Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, today is a gift which is why we call it the present". I thought "Wow, that's facile!". For a man who has letters after his name and charges ninety quid an hour and that's the level he's operating at? I can see what he's driving at but I wouldn't even buy a tea-towel with that on it!

Jeff said there's no point wishing you could go back in time and I said "With respect Jeff, I've got a twenty minute podcast to fill every week. There's plenty of point and, you know, when we don't learn from the past we are destined to repeat the mistakes of the past!", and - and this really gave the game away, because he couldn't think of a reply - he just went back to humming. "Hmmmmm!".

And as I was thinking about how much he resembled an Easter Island statue I noticed that he had a scar of a previous nasal piercing, and I just thought "I'd love to put a sleeper through that and a dog chain, hook it up to the bumper of my car and just pull his nose off". I don't think I'll see him anymore. 

[a capella music sting] 

So instead I'm walking! For all the benefits you might get from seeing a therapist you can get just as much from simply walking, and it's a damn sight fucking cheaper! So today I'm wandering through the same fields where I used to walk Seldom and, while I no longer own a dog, I'm still throwing a stick! Not sure why, it must be muscle memory. Indeed this lane, in a way, is Memory Lane. A primitive form of time travel, if that were possible. [sings in a choral pitch] "Seldom! I miss you! Seldom! I miss you!". 

But yes, there are many great people who believe in the future-possibility of time travel - Einstein. Hawking. Asimov. C Clarke. J Fox, brackets Michael. Who, brackets Doctor - and you might say "Then why wouldn't the government tell us?", but I suppose it would be because the rules and regulations needed to govern the use of time travel would be a bureaucratic nightmare! I mean, when you think of all the red tape, the amount of forms you need to fill in before they'd even let you near a time machine it just makes your head spin!

You can't even travel forward in time to the point where you finish filling them in because that's the point of the forms! I suppose you could spend a morning filling them in then as soon as you get the green light travel back in time and just use the morning as you like. Although that wouldn't work, you'd go back to before you'd filled them in and you'd have to fill them in again, it's a tricky one to follow!

[bright, jangly jingle]

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I'm sure you'll have a time you'd like to travel back to if you had the chance. In fact, I tweeted the very question to my Twitter followers, The Alanites, The Partridgey... Partri- The, er... just my Twitter followers. 

Maisie in Perth just says she would travel back to the 8th of March 2015, she would drive to Simonstone Hall in North Yorkshire and cook a hot meal for Jeremy Clarkson to eat at the end of his working day. That way Clarkson would remain calm, not punch his producer and would still be presenting Top Gear to this day. Lovely! 

Great idea for a book, actually, a science-fiction novel asking a sort of 'What if Top Gear was still presented by the holy trinity of Clarkson, Hammond and May?'. How different the world would be, what life would look like if they had not signed with Amazon Prime, because the ripple effect will be enormous! How would that impact the current presenters? McGuinness what would he be doing? Perhaps more adverts for gambling firms. Flintoff, what would he be doing? Er... that other guy, I mean what would he be doing? It's worth exploring!

Thanks for suggesting that, Maisie! Personally I would travel back slightly further to the previous incarnation of Top Gear before they got Richard Hammond involved and the invited studio audience. I'd sit down with Quentin Wilson and Tiff Needell and say "Guys! Open your eyes! They want to turn this into a mainstream entertainment format, not a car magazine show! Quentin, go and see a stylist, ask for some boot-cut jeans and a leather jacket, look like you smoke! Tiff, poke fun at small cars bought by people not that interested in cars, poke fun at people who drive sensibly! Skid cars sideways and go 'Whoa!'. Say things like 'That's what I'm talking about!' or 'Now we're cooking!', you know, show people that side of you. Be Pub Tiff, not Telly Tiff!". But history will show you that they didn't heed my advice, or at least not successfully. Quentin bought a leather jacket but it was belted at the waist and it looks a bit like a woman's. Tiff just had a huff. What else have we got?

Veronica in Manchester says "Time traveling to the past is fraught with risk! You're playing with forces far beyond your comprehension, I implore you please stop this madness!". Yes, Veronica writes in quite often, she can take things a bit literally. I asked my followers, 'How would you rob a bank vault?' the other week, you know, would you tunnel in or bribe a guard, and she called the police. Who, to be fair, were lovely, we had a cuppa and a nice long chat. PC Daniels was saying "The best way to rob a bank is to come in armed with a hammer". Didn't say what kind; ball peen, cross peen, mallet or claw.

He said "People assume you're more likely to use it, but you'll get a lighter sentence than if you carried a firearm. Plus you look deranged! You can negotiate with a criminal mastermind but a nutter with a hammer? You're way past the bargaining stage". Very knowledgeable guy, some great tips! 

Paul Duggan says he would travel back to the 3rd of January 2020, which is when his wife discovered he was having an affair. He said he made a mistake which has had devastating consequences, and said he would do anything to do things differently. Ah well good for him. Yes, he said if he could go back to that time he would store incriminating photos and videos in an encrypted folder that was password protected. He would also buy a second SIM card so that the messages and calls to his mistress would not show up on his bill. 

Andrew in Guildford says he'd travel back to the reign of Henry VIII where he'd live as a courtier in Hampton Court Palace. Yeah, the thing is Andrew, I'm not sure what properties you think time travel possesses that would catapult you into the top one percent of Tudor society. Your bio says you work in data support. I'm sure there were low-level admin roles in the 1500s. Why does everyone imagine in the olden days they'd be rubbing shoulders with royalty?

I'm just going to sit down on this stile, actually. A bit puffed-out. Erm... [sounds of exertion] There we go. Andrew adds that he would try and talk some sense into the womanising monarch in order to protect the integrity of the church. I wouldn't call it womanising, Andrew! The guy had high standards, sure, but you can't always blame the man! Catherine of Aragon, his first wife, apparently was always going on at him and you know he's got Anne Boleyn twirling around in front of him shaking her bustle saying, you know, "Get a load of this!", winking from under the hat shaped like a house, you know, it's pretty sexy stuff!

I mean what's he supposed to do? Anne of Cleves, I mean that was just a debacle! I mean, the only reason his marriage to Anne of Cleves was so short was that she sent a portrait of herself before she came over from Germany that looked nothing like her! He took one look at her and said "That portrait looks nothing like you!". I mean, you know, welcome to Tinder! He said "Look, love, you know, it's not your fault, it's not my fault, but this ain't gonna fly!", you know, so.. bundled her off to Lewes. Very nice town, by all accounts. 

I've had several dates like that, in fact one of them came over from Germany. That was a long weekend! Good thing I booked a twin room! We just spent two days watching TV in a B&B in Dover. Their English wasn't great, so yeah, we just lay on top of the bed watching Death in Paradise which is the best lowbrow TV detective series available. Which is what the doctor ordered, frankly.

Then Monday morning came round and I said "Oh, you know, I'll definitely be doing this again!" and what I meant was I'll be booking myself into a B&B and watching Death in Paradise so I technically wasn't lying, and she says "So what do you reckon, should I go back to my husband?". I said, er, "Yeah! I would". 

Excuse me! I think your dog just took my stick. 

[male passer-by] "Oh sorry where is your dog?".

I don't have one, I just have the stick. That's a lovely dog. 

"Thank you, yeah they're good company". 

[to dog] C'mere you! Hello hello hello! Let's have a cuddle, let's have a cuddle! [a series of non-verbal dog-appreciation noises] 

"You alright?"

Oh yeah. Rrrrr! Rrrr! Hello! Hello!

"I'll get them off you".

No, no, they're all right! This is great playing with a couple of dogs. I had a, yes, I had a massive mongrel. Yeah he had- his heart gave way, gave him too much fatty food, so I'm a bit, er... [to dog] uh, hello!

"He doesn't like it". 

All right okay. [to dog again] Do you like it? If he didn't like you he would have eaten you! [laughs] 

"So what kind of dog was he?". 

Um, I don't know! All I know is I think he was a throwback, I think he might have been a prehistoric dog. Ptero-dog-tyl, someone called him! 

"Tyrannosaurus Rex!". 

I think he's... Oh fucking hell, his breath stinks! But a lovely fella. Yeah, no, I had a big dog, died, heart attack, so been pretty lonely. Talked to a guy about it. 

"Good thing to do". 

Yeah, no, especially, you know, I mean it's uh...

"It's helped, or...?". 

I mean yes, yes and no. I mean, the end of the day I thought the way to get over- [nervous laugh] the way to get over losing a dog that you loved, because, uh, you know, the only sort of reliable relationship in your life, if you kind of dig what I'm on about, is to go for a walk and to go for a walk you need the dog so... and yet I'm not prepared to get a new dog, because [childish voice to avoid awkwardness] I'm still very sad about my old dog aren't I? [to the dog] Yes I am! Very very sad!

So, um, yeah. Not there yet, but getting bloody close! 

"Difficult process, isn't it?".

Yeah. 

"Take your time with it". 

Grieving, yeah. [sounds of exertion as Alan gets up] I only need a new girlfriend... and a new dog. Both, ideally. [awkwardly jangles keys] Gonna run off now. Okay, bye! 

"See ya!".

[briskly moving away] Yeah, I'm gonna get a new dog. Yeah. I'm gonna get a rescue dog! Rescue it from a pet shop with cash! I'm gonna get a dog! 

[man, distantly] "I heard you".

I know, but the last time I was just saying it to myself in the sky!

Bye!

[orchestral synth, Vangelis-esque music]

Imagine if you showed an iPhone to King Henry VIII, it would blow his mind!

It would blow his mind!

Imagine if you showed an Tesla to Pope John Paul I, it would blow his mind!

It would blow his mind!

Imagine if you showed an Hoover to Marie Antionette, it would blow her mind!

It would blow her mind!