S04E01: Trapped

[opening theme]

"Love it, love it, love it! Best podcast ever!"

"I highly recommend this".

"Trust me, it don't get better than this!".

"Five stars! More, please!".

Hello, I'm Alan Partridge. Now, at the risk of turning the Oasthouse into the Boast-House, that is just a snapshot of the almost entirely one hundred percent positive feedback - apart from a few people who ultimately, I like to think, hate themselves - I've received from my podcasting over the last three seasons. Apart from, as I said, a few damaged people. Kindly performed by the boys and girls of the Norfolk Young Conservatives. Very impressive young men and women, who are a credit to themselves, to their schools, and to their farms.

So yeah, very pleased to have received glowing testimonials like that. And as we launch into this, the first episode of the fourth season of my podcast, there was one that touched me more than others. It was from a woman called Dawn, who's not a Young Conservative.

As a 50-year-old teacher, she falls on both counts, who said she listens to my podcast when she's marking homework, and says she and her friends like to meet up for lunch and chat about what I've been saying, as it's so entertaining. Thank you, Dawn, it is entertaining, it's what I do. 

But I was touched by Dawn's message, intrigued. I clicked on her Twitter profile and saw an earlier tweet asking if anyone could lend her a school minibus. She said she runs a street dance club at the school, and they've won a place at the national finals, but are unable to attend unless she can source a vehicle. In the past, if you said 'street dance' to me, I would have simply pictured kids playing truant in front of a graffitied wall on a housing estate. 

But I've completely changed my views since I met some delightful young people, and I now think that graffiti over, let's say, a skate park in Streatham can look really brat. And I do mean that. 

But I digress. As I say, I was very touched by Dawn's message, and after calling in a few favours, I managed to source a second-hand bus that used to deliver fish. It's been refurbished, heavily perfumed, and given a full respray. It now has my face on the side, and the words, 'Dance Like Alan's Watching! In association with Prudential".

It's parked right outside, and so, in a very special episode of From the Oasthouse, I'm going to drive over to the school, hand over the keys, and I can't wait to see the little kids' faces as I say in the nick of time, You shall go to the ball! Why? Well, it's very much the vibe of my podcast. Far too many podcasters pontificate from on high, don't they, about what's wrong with Britain? You know, without ever really getting amongst it.

Rory Stewart is a good example. He'll preach about the state of the nation, but do you think Rory has ever been inside a leisure centre? Has he ever been to a funfair? Has he ever had a cooked breakfast in a Morrisons? Has Rory ever touched a fruit machine? Or has Rory seen a fruit machine? Of course he hasn't! The pint-sized former politician can prattle on about Brexit and red, white and blue walls hither and thither, but if he's never stood at a service station at 6:30am behind four lorry drivers who just look awful, then frankly, I'd set little store by anything he says.

He could work in little store. Me? I'm not going the same way. I want to rub shoulders with ordinary people and stay connected, which is why I'm rappelling down from my ivory tower to go and hand over the keys to a bloody ruddy minibus. Very humbling, that is, yes. Humbled. What time is it? 

[Lynn] "Nearly nine".

I'll go in two minutes. 

"Okay".

In case you're wondering, I'm not actually at my home. Base camp today is the much smaller home of my assistant, Lynn, who happens to live round the corner from the school. Lynn has very kindly popped the kettle on and made a piping hot tea with UHT milk, which I honestly didn't realise you could still buy. Lynn wouldn't like me saying this, she prides herself on being a good host, but for whatever reason, she just cannot make tea. Never been able to crack it. 

She left me one earlier and it looks like a cup of beige milk... I mean, it's that weak. She's sitting across from me now but she's partially deaf so if you keep below a certain volume and try not to move your lips you can pretty much say anything and she has absolutely no idea.

"Some people like it milky". 

Oh, did you hear that? 

"I got my hearing aid in". 

Okay, well you should tell people if you've turned it on. It's very unsportsmanlike. Underhand. Sneaky.

"Shall we go through your replies before I go?" 

Why not? Speed round. 

"Grevel Merchant". 

Ignore.

"Lorraine Kelly". 

Ignore. 

"Grant Schnapps".

Accept. 

"Charlie Dimmock". 

Stall.

"Battersea Dogs Home".

Donate. 

"Direct Deb?". 

One-off. 

"Esther McVey". 

Accept.

"The Irish brothers who did the garden". 

Pay. Pay. Definitely pay. Quickly. 

"And that's your replies. I'll be off then. You can let yourself out. The spare keys are on the side. I'll just pull it shut behind me. Bye, Alan". 

[theme music sting]

Lynn won't be going with me to the school, she's off to a funeral today with a spring in her step... and not just because I bought her some orthopaedic Sketchers. No, she loves it and I know some people find this a bit morbid but I can absolutely see where she's coming from. The first few friends go and you're traumatised but you become inured to it and now funerals are the only time she gets to put lipstick on. And as I've always said if you fall within Lynn's demographic then funeral food really is the sweet spot. If I was asked to describe it I would say it was simply straightforward, room temp, dry food. And she loves it. A few pickled onions to get those salivary glands moving. Give mastication a sporting chance.

Right, let's do this! Pop the old cup on the draining board - she doesn't believe in dishwashers - and off we go! 

Right, the thing about, er... Oh, shit. She's locked the door of the porch and I've just closed the front door behind me. I am trapped in a kind of airlock, the sort you might find on the International Space Station... or on any space station. Come on. Oh, Lynn, Lynn, Lynn, Lynn, Lynn! Lynny-baby...

Right, let's approach this logically. I will phone her and tell her to come... but, no I won't, there's no phone signal. How do people live like this? Talk about turkeys voting for Christmas! You know, Lynn and some of the other residents actually staged a sit-down protest to prevent them installing a mobile phone mast about half a mile away, something about brain cancer, thus confining themselves to another decade of a shit signal. If I was on Lynn's Wi-Fi I could have made a FaceTime call but I'm not.

The faff involved in connecting to the internet I just couldn't face! The nation is divided between people who bother to set their own Wi-Fi password and those who retain the password the modem came with so you have to read a long sequence of numbers and letters from a sticker on the back of the router, and I am just not going to do that.

A friend of mine who's 80 his password, get this, is 9XV3Q7PLWB8DK2MT6yZr5NqCfJ1G4xP. I mean, who's going to remember that? I mean, I did because it's so silly. 

This is fine. Okay, this is fine. I'm just trapped in a PVC glass display case. Yeah, have a good look! Just some schoolgirls. Yes, that's my face on the side of the van, well done, you made the connection.! Teenagers today find the slightest thing amusing.

We used to laugh at really straightforward, solid stuff, you know, like a saucy postcard, a man dressed as a woman, maybe a chimpanzee riding a bike or smoking a cigarette. It was really solid, straightforward stuff. Today you get locked in a porch near a minibus baring your face and that qualifies as the height of comedy.

They'll probably film this and put it on Tik-Tak. Kids have the attention span of a gnat with attention deficit hyperactive disorder. That is a really short attention span.

Move away from the bus, please! Yeah? Holding your nose? Try smelling yourself! I said, try smelling yourself! Holding his nose. Some residue odour of fish, that's all.

Just to describe my predicament, I mean what I can only describe as a very small porch. Lynn's house isn't particularly set back from the road. The path from the porch to the pavement doesn't even use up to, maybe just about two whole flagstones.

In terms of distance from porch to pavement proper, that would be... I'm quite good at this, thirty-six inches is three feet, so thirty inches is two and a half... [fart] ...Oh shit, that's not going anywhere... Sixty inches is easy at five feet, so seventy-five inches is six and a quarter feet. Well, yeah, about a hundred and ninety centimetres.

[Alan lets off again, failing to disguise it with a cough]

So it's close to the pavement and I'm just standing here in this see-through plastic box, I feel like an action figure in its packaging. Action man. Alan Man. The Incredible Alan. Action Alan. Stretch Alan... I should say this to myself every morning. I can touch my toes if I'm in my underpants. I'll try it now.

[bending over, Alan trumps again]

Oh crikey. Why do people even have a porch? What's a porch for? Christ sakes, it's just a see-through room for taking your shoes off that slowly fills with junk mail. Look at this stuff, pizza menus, curry menus, taxi flyers, god charity bin bags, Liberal Democrats... poor bastards. Look at that, new sort of ceramic tile for covering your roof, ten year guarantee they're claiming. I'll put that one in my pocket Might as well have the curry one as well.

[another attack of gas]

Oh bloody hell! Honestly, nothing and then they're like buses! They move a damn sight quicker, believe you me. I've just seen someone.

Hello? 

"Are you stuck?". 

Yes, thank you I'm locked in my assistant's porch.

"You live here?".

No, I explained This is my assistant's porch and I'm just locked in 

"It's like David Blaine".

Haha! Yeah, Can I ask you to call her quickly? It's 07734...

"Okay, you want to pass your phone through the letterbox? I'll see if I can get a signal".

Can you not use yours? 

"Don't have it on me, pass us yours".

Do you know what? She'll be back soon, so don't worry about it, but thank you anyway...

"Don't give me that, pass us your phone".

Honestly, it's fine". 

"You don't trust me, do you?". 

I'm sorry? 

"You think this is a rough area where you can't trust people enough to rob you?".

No, not at all I'm just not comfortable doing it, thank you.

"There's nothing wrong with the people around here".

You know what? I'm sorry, it's nothing personal I'm just not used to the areas where people paint their house numbers on their wheelie bin. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions, I'm sorry. 

"There's never trouble around here Most people keep themselves to themselves".

Okay, I'll pass it through the letterbox. There you go. You got it? 

"Yep".

Okay If you go to that lamppost you'll get a signal. See the third one along, just beyond that van, if you go there, you will get a signal because I sometimes make calls from there...

[inaudible]

Okay.

"It's shocking really, people rely on their phones. There's a lot of old people around here".

Yes, she's one of them! Thank you! Yeah, that's the lamppost! Still walking. He's still walking. [bangs on window] That's the lamppost! 

Okay, he's nicked my phone. Yeah, now he's pinched it. Okay, that's annoying, obviously a local conman, he's very good at his job. That is annoying, I can't believe... That's my own fault, completely bamboozled me. Took advantage of my good nature. I won't trust strangers in working class areas again, be sure of that. 

I recorded his voice but I'm not sure that's enough. I'll take a photo... Oh no I won't, he's got my phone.

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Well, almost an hour has gone by and I'm starting to cook. Literally. Seem to become a bit of an attraction. Yes, hello, yes, I'm sitting on a box, sitting in the corner of a Stormseal porch. It's like being in a zoo. Very like a zoo actually, I remember being in Chester Zoo - school trip - I remember actually spending several minutes by a glass partition, looking into the eyes of an orangutan. At that age, very moving experience, something so human about them, such wisdom in their eyes. And then they throw a handful of shit at the glass and you remember it's just a big monkey. Or what some people like to call an ape.

Today, the roles are very much reversed. I Actually also feel a bit like Charlton Heston, I was thinking about this earlier. In Planet of the Apes, although he wasn't imprisoned in PVC and glass it would have been a bamboo cage if memory serves. Assuming they have bamboo on their planet... Oh no, it's Earth isn't it? Oh sorry, I've ruined it. Then again if you've not watched Planet of the Apes yet you're probably not going to watch it. Very good film, very sexy.

Come on Lynn, how much longer? Ironic that she's gone to honour a dead guy in a wooden coffin, meanwhile there's a very much alive guy in a glass and PVC coffin, and now I've got a bloody minibus I don't need. I only needed it for a street dance tournament tonight, an event that might change their lives, and I've failed them. I'm saddled with a Ford Transit that has 130,000 miles on the clock and it stinks of fish. I put two benches in it for those girls, it just needed hosing out with a high pressure hot nozzle.

Let's have a look at these leaflets, eh? Let's have a look... Mama Mia's Pizza Now 'delvering' to your area. Poor bastards, that's appalling grammar. I'm sure they're very nice people, probably quite kind people. Would you rather be grammatically challenged and kind or have a tip-top grammar, punctuation and syntax, and be like Jacob Rees-Mogg? That's a tough one, that. A conundrum... not a word they'd know, they'd think a conundrum was some sort of deep-dish pizza. 

Well it's now 10:50am and I have taken to reading Lynn's junk mail and marking up a few notes. There must be fifteen fast food menus here, total waste of everyone's time. Lynn has the blandest palate of any adult woman I've ever met, and there's no way she'd order garlic bread let alone a curry.

What have we got... A garden and maintenance firm Called Mo Mowlawn which I can only think is a reference to Mo Mowlam, the late Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. That's atrocious, that really is poor. 

Very quiet, I have very little thought for. I've just seen Jehovah's Witness going door-to-door, and one time I actually wish they'd come to this door just to give me something to do. Yes, the boredom has really set in. It's not what you'd call a view, all I can see is two semi-detached houses across the road, one side very poorly maintained, overgrown hedge, crumbling brick... The other side's quite lovely, actually pristine topiary, white wooden shutters... Not really indigenous architecturally, but the guy obviously thinks he's living on a plantation. Probably has a little black boy in there to complete the look. 

No, slavery's not on. Not on at all. Mind you, you sometimes wonder, don't you, if things haven't gone too far the other way with workers rights and what not... Grant Shapps says a happy medium is zero hours contracts, and it's hard to argue with that.

[a knock on glass]

Oh, hello? 

"Hello, good morning. Mind if I ask you a question?".

Yes, I can't open the door so you might have to- it's double glazed so you might have to speak up a little. 

"Do you ever wonder about the purpose of life or how we got here?".

Not really. Life is just random events and I think we got here through evolution, so pretty simple 

"Some things don't seem random though do they? The complexity of DNA, the incredible geometries you see in the universe... Are they random? How does something that complex just occur?".

Science, evolution. Are you telling me evolution didn't happen?

"Well evolution explains adaptation within species doesn't it".

Yes. 

"It doesn't address the origin of life or the precise conditions needed for the universe to exist".

Go on.

"Would you accept it's possible there's a designer behind it all?"

I think that is highly unlikely.

"I didn't say likely, I said possible. Do you concede it's possible?".

Well it's possible for lots of things, but where's the evidence?

"Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence". 

Say that slower.

"Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence, because you can't see something doesn't mean it can't possibly exist. I just want you to know, Alan".

Oh, you recognise me?

"Alan Partridge".

Go on.

"It's easy to be cynical, it takes a lot more courage to open your heart and let the Lord in".

[awkward pause]

Well, must press on! Bye bye.

I've just realised I can't actually go back inside, so I am standing with my back to him and hopefully he'll, when I turn back, he'll be gone, and... Nope he's still there. Just outside the window.

I finished the conversation, thank you! 

"Well I'm here if you want to talk".

Are you just going to stand there? 

"Yes".

Oh, Lynn! Glad to see you! 

[Lynn] "Are you? Really?"

Yes, very glad!

"Well you've never said that before! What's this?" 

I was just talking to a Jehovah's Witness.

[Lynn viciously repels the Witness] "Get off! Get away from this place! Get away!" [calm] "Okay then!"

[theme music sting]

How was the funeral? 

"Fan. Tastic!"

Yeah, food good? 

"Very!"

God, I'm parched...

"Sausage rolls, egg sandwiches, sausage on sticks, French Fancies, mini pork pies... And they had hummus".

You didn't have any though did you?

"No! And I brought some Black Forest gateaux home with a tissue".

Good god! 

"You don't want it then?".

No, I'll have it with a cup of tea, I'm starving!

"Well, do you want some Ritz crackers?".

I never thought I'd say this, but yes. 

"There you go, there's two".

Can I have three? 

"Erm... Yes". 

Any butter?

"No, we don't have any".

Okay. It's still good. 

"Right". 

Hand me that gateaux in tissue 

"Wet wipe?"

No, I'll just wash my hands after.

"Okay".

[closing theme music]