S04E08: Sound Garden

Easy, easy. Remember, I can't see. 

[Lynn] "I know!".

Careful, Lynn, I'm going into twigs! You're going too fast. 

"I'm not, it's fine!".

You're scaring me, slow down. I get that you're excited, but this is unknown terrain. I do not trust you not to have a fall. So slow down. 

"Okay". 

Anyway, I'm... I'm starting now.

Hello and welcome to From The Oasthouse with Alan Partridge. Just to set the scene, I'm currently blindfolded. We are al fresco, and I'm being led from my assistant's car to an unknown location. I'd only  ever agree to this level of secrecy if I was being driven to a secret location to interview Pablo Escobar for Newsnight, or the Chief Executive Officer of Hamas for The One Show. But I have no idea what what this is, although I can probably guess.

"Go on then". 

Oh, Okay... Skydiving simulator where you hover over air.

"No". 

Play pigeon shooting? 

"No". 

Real pigeons? That's even better!

"It's not shooting". 

Oh... [trump] sorry, just trumped... Can you give me a clue? Is it an area? Is it in an enclosed area? 

"Errr... Yes".

Okay, so is it being given a massage by more than one person? 

"Pardon?". 

You know, Swedish massages. 

"Why do they have to be Swedish?".

Because massage was invented by the Swedes. Now, is it that or not? 

"No, it's the sound garden".

[sighs] Go on, keep going. 

"The big unveiling. They phoned yesterday, invited you to cut the ribbon, as it were".

What do you mean, as it were? Is there a ribbon or not? 

"They didn't specify. Take off your blindfold". 

Well, well, well, they actually did it! Goodness me, ladies and gentlemen, I am at Hampton Court Palace, probably my favourite court palace in the UK. And it's my considerable honour to be visiting a garden that has been themed and named after me, Alan Partridge. Shall we wander over? 

"Yes". 

I had a few things named after me in my time. A roundabout in Hemsby, the Alan Partridge roundabout.
A star in the Cassiopeia constellation called Partridge Perpetua, which was bought for me when I was a sixth former, lower sixth, by a big bear of a history teacher who took a shine to me. I think he was in love with me, to be fair. He always made excuses to go for walks, he called them history walks but, you know...

I mean, now you can tell whether bushes are Roman or not. God knows. He really talks about his life and how it had fallen apart. Occasionally points to say, "They're Saxon stones". It's rubble. Mr. Garside!

Yeah. Anyway, eventually they let him go and the name of the star lapsed. It's now reverted to its original name, which is just some numbers. He also named a donkey after me, but I heard it died of old age. Alan was a lovely donkey. I visited him, actually. I was 17, just passed my driving test. Just wanted somewhere to go to, so I borrowed my mum's Morris Minor and headed off to the donkey sanctuary. You do some crazy things when you're a kid, don't you? Alan was a lovely donkey. 

But I've never had a garden named after me, until now. And what a setting! The Alan Partridge Sound Bath Garden, to give it its full name, is to be one of the exhibits at the Hampton Court Garden Show.

I spent many a wonderful afternoon promenading through the gardens here, in my twenties. A girl on my arm pretending to be Henry VIII. Or Henry VIII's best friend.

Also spent a couple of bad afternoons here. I took the grandkids here once they got stuck in the maze. I could hear them crying from outside, I just had to kick my way through some of the hedges to get them out. 

How did the Alan Partridge Sound Bath Garden come about? Well, it was the brainchild of two Norwich-based garden designers, who I would describe as... Labour voters with tattoos. But when they get talking about their concepts, you realise there's a bit more to them than that. Their gardens have real edge, and I don't mean the bits you strim. 

I was approached by them, gosh, at a Norwich business function, I  was I was a judge and it was my job to assign a £10,000 bursary to the most exciting small business. Obviously, I didn't give it to the gardeners because gardening, I think, is a hobby rather than an actual job. I gave it instead to three public schoolboys who, believe it or not, from their own dormitory, target high net worth individuals with premium rentals via an app, which they subsequently sold to an umbrella group, making them instant multimillionaires. So I gave the £10,000 to them. Lovely boys, lovely school.

But the gardeners, Richard and Zara, with a Z, zidled over to me afterwards and zaid they had an idea to run by me. So I listened intently as they sketched this proposal out for me, they said it's a garden that would challenge our preconceptions of what a garden can be, and they wondered if I'd want them to theme it around me. I mean, what do we usually want from a garden? 

I want a variety of bushes of slightly different heights, a spray of colour from flowers, a neat lawn with trimmed hedges. I'd like fifty percent of the area paved to reduce mowing time, very high fences to prevent people looking in. I want a birdbath, a brick barbecue, a clay pizza oven, a statue of a naked woman with no arms that I can look at, a statue of a nude man concentrating... Yeah, just I just want that. And I have that. I saw no reason why I shouldn't have a disabled woman in my garden. Yeah, she's, er... no, she's a keeper. No wonder that guy's concentrating. I should turn him away really, point him towards the chicken coop. Try wanking over that, dirty get! 

So that's the traditional garden that we've all come to know and love. But this isn't a traditional garden, it's a sound-bath garden. "What the hell's a sound-bath garden", you ask, which is what I asked, actually. And the answer is a garden containing audio recordings, music or sounds allowing the visitor to luxuriate, not just in the majesty of nature or the colours and shapes of pretty flowers, but in sound, which is just as good. Just as good. 

Of course, there's already sounds provided by nature, birdsong, bees buzzing, trickling water and, yeah, foxes screaming at night. But imagine introducing other sounds, via weatherproof speakers. I know what you're thinking, that sounds like a colossal waste of time! And that's what I thought. Then I thought, why not design it around sound? Because I believe that gardens... 

Lynn, can you just take the blindfold for me, please? Just pop it in the car. 

"Yep". 

What is that, by the way? 

"Just a pair of thermal leggings".

You mean your late mum's tights? 

"Yes, they've been laundered, years ago now". 

Yeah, that's what I thought. I got a faint odour of Daz, which was discontinued, much like your mother.

Anyway, to get back to the point, I believe that gardens should be enjoyed by everyone. Why should our blind friends who can't see gardens be denied the pleasure of hearing one? Why deny them the joy of horticulture? Just because, through no fault of their own, usually, they're... I nearly said visually impaired, but I've got a friend who lost his sight and is quite high up at the BBC who said, "I'm not visually impaired, Alan, I'm bloody blind! You know, you can have as many yellow grab-handles in cabs as you like, but I ain't going to see 'em!". "All those bloody Guardian readers", he said, "Saying visually impaired!". 

He said to me, humorously, he said, "If I could see 'em, I'd hit 'em!" [laughs] He's probably my best blind friend! I've always been a staunch ally of the sightless. Podcasting is the most blind friendly medium you can get. And all the signage outside my home has a Braille version underneath. So a blind rambler can reach the gates, touch the sign and be able to read the words, "Turn back, you're on private property. Trespassers will be prosecuted".

Actually, a psychologist I met told me people respond better to positive messaging than negative. So I was thinking of changing it to "Alan Partridge welcomes people who leave his property". Well, I can see the garden as much as I can see at all, My eyeballs are quite sore. I tell you, when Lynn blindfolds you, she is rough. She yanks the knot tight and bundles you around like she's taking you to an IRA punishment beating. Blind Man's Bluff , it ain't, if that's not an offensive term, I said at my rackets club recently, I said "We probably have to call it visually impaired person who identifies as a man's bluff these days!", and that brought. The house. Down! Yeah, it's a good feeling being funny in front of men. 

Hey there, Richard, Zara. It's so good to see you. Come and have a look at my Alan Partridge Sound Bath Garden that you designed. 

[haunting music]

Historical knowledge. 

In 2004, the remains of at least seventeen people were discovered during an archaeological dig under the city's Chantry Place shopping centre. At first thought to be plague victims, the site is now thought to be the scene of a barbarian massacre in the year 650. 

Come along, grab yourself a hot chocolate, plus a pie or pasty, and have a good look at all those skeletons. Special price for a drink and pasty is, you've guessed it, £6.50. That's value! Make no bones about it! 

[a little out of breath] Well, I had a tour of the garden and a bit of a chit-chat with the design team and now squatting somewhere inside Hampton Court Maze. The garden itself, yeah, yeah, fine, good. Good garden, they seem very pleased with it. Clearly worked hard on it, no quibbles with the effort. And yeah, I probably got a bit emotional. Might have even said a few words, something... something and nothing, really.

I said, "We all end up in the soil one way or another. When you guys die, you will live on in the garden. When we're all dead and buried, your green fingers will echo down the generations" kind of thing. Just had a couple of hugs, one for him, one for her. It ended on a slightly sour note to be honest, because I was just about to do selfies when Richard said, "Can we discuss payment?". I said, "What do you mean, payment?". He said, "Payment for the garden". 

I said, "Why would I pay for the garden? It's your garden!". He said, "It's not our garden, it was made for you". I said, "Why would I want a garden at Hampton Court? Why would I drive 250 miles to sit on a folding chair in a small rented patch of Hampton Court while listening to me saying things? It would be an absolutely pointless purchase! I have a garden at home! I want to understand why you think any part of me would give you money for that!". He said, "You tell me, you asked for it".

I said, "I didn't ask for it, it was your idea, hijacking with a load of twaddle about 'feeling sound'". He said, "It was our proposal. Why do you think we were showing you the cost?", I said, "I've no idea why you were showing me any of it! Why were you showing me where you source the gravel?" He said, "Well, we put the proposal to you and you agreed to it". I said, "I was giving you my blessing. I wasn't giving you my money!".

He said, "We don't want your blessing, mate". I said, "I'm not your mate, mate". He said, "If you don't pay us, we'll bulldoze it", I said, "Fucking bulldoze it! It's not even a proper garden. Gardens have trees and hedges and ponds and lawns and bird boxes. You've just got speakers and shrubs, and I don't know what". 

Anyway, he went to get some piece of paper and I just legged it. And I am now, let's call it like it is, hiding in the famous Hampton Court Maze, which I suppose is quite fitting. Being pursued in these grounds is very much in keeping with the macabre history of the place, a nest of plotting, backstabbing and skulduggery. I don't think it's a gross exaggeration to say my being chased affords me a very small window in what it must have been like to be Anne Boleyn. Frantic on hearing that she was to be executed and desperate to flee, she'd have known that the King's men were closing in and her fate was sealed.

As I say, not identical to my situation, mine's more invoice-based, but the sense of jeopardy is very real. In fact, Richard does look a bit like a sort of thin Henry VIII, albeit with a longer beard and an earring. Same attitude.

The plan now is just to wait for Richard and Sarah to leave. And people will think that, by running into a maze, I've sealed my own fate. What if they follow me in here? But as I say, I know from experience that you can kick your way through a thick hedge. I've done it once, here. The groundsmen didn't like it, my god, they did not like it, but it worked, and I now know that if I find myself backed into a priveted cul-de-sac, I can kick my way to safety with only minimal abrasions. 

You try to navigate your way through a hedge gingerly, the hedge will win! Ditherers get short shrift from a fat hedge. Ask yourself, "How would the SAS kick their way through a hedge?". With no sentiment, that's how. If you try and drift through a hedge, like, I don't know, Ben Whishaw, the hedge is gonna win. Go through it like Liam Neeson. Softly, softly, then clobber. Good actor, both of them. One's good at softies, one's good at toughies.

And be tactical. Don't just take a run-up and throw your body weight against it. I've seen Ross Kemp bounce off a hedge once, and he just looked silly. He laughed as if he'd done it on purpose, but he admitted, he said to me, that he'd intended to go through. Yeah, he's a funny one! He's not sure who he is. 

You need to start low, break the hedge's ankles. You'll have about twenty ankles, in my experience.
Snap as many as you can and when it's listing badly, and it will, then you start kicking. And when it...

[Richard] "Alan?"

Yeah? I mean, no. 

"I can hear you whispering. I know you're in there".

Yeah, I'm here. 

"Yeah, I know you're there. I can hear you".

Yeah. 

"Are you hiding from me?". 

No, I was, but I'm not now. I'm just the other side of a hedge.

"All right, this is silly, isn't it? Listen, right, you don't have to run off. I know... I'm sure we can sort this out, but you do need to come out so we can put our heads together and be grownups about it. Yeah?". 

Okay. By the way, sorry for saying we should bulldoze the garden. 

"It's fine, don't worry about that. But, you know, we'll just get a coffee or something, and we'll have a chat about, you know, who's paying for the sound garden".

Yeah, yeah, you keep saying sound garden. I mean... 

"I mean, that's what it is".

This can't be what you wanted to do when you were younger!

"No. Did you think, 'I want to make podcasts'?". 

Yes!

"Thirty years ago?". 

Yes. I know the word podcast didn't exist. 

"Right. So we're...".

But I remember thinking - hang on! - "I would like to do some sort of audio-based entertainment in an as-yet-undetermined digital space". Alright? 

"Okay, right. But, well, I wasn't thinking of designing sound gardens, because they hadn't been invented thirty years ago. But I do it now...".

No one wants it! 

"Listen, I do it now. I do it now. It's a fair enough job. I make a living from it...".

People don't need sounding gardens. There's already sound in gardens! There's birdsong. There's bees, butterflies, they're not very loud, but, you know, they flutter. 

"This is what you were saying...".

Leaves rustle in the streets when the wind blows. The leaves rustle like that. It's already got fucking sound! What are you playing at? 

"It just feels to me like you're changing your tune. I look like I'm talking to a hedge, come on". 

Yeah, well, you listen to them. No, I didn't mean that. Look, I want to get through this. Not our relationship or all that stuff, I mean literally the hedge. I want to get through the hedge. I'm going to turn around and back into the hedge and put my own hands between my legs. Can you clasp them? 

"You want me to pull you through the hedge?".

Yes, backwards, please. 

"Okay". 

It's actually funny, isn't it? That is a phrase, 'You look like you've been pulled through a hedge backwards', but I'm actually about to do it! I'd say backwards is the best way to minimise abrasions and lacerations. Hopefully it results in congratulations and jubilations.

"You ready?".

Yep, now. 

[sounds of strained pulling] 

Keep pulling, keep pulling! Hey, there we go!

"You all right?".

Yeah, yeah. I think the hedge has only suffered minimal damage. So that girl who's your, who helped you with the garden, is she your girlfriend? 

"No, she's just... I just work with her, we're friends".

Oh. Oh. Pity. I mean, not pity. Does anyone tell you you look like a thin Henry VIII? 

"Sam West, I get a lot". 

Yeah?

[closing theme bed]

Unable to agree on payment, I'm pleased to say the Alan Partridge Sound Bath Garden was successfully bulldozed, after which I paid another firm of gardeners slightly less to build a different and better one. Their only caveat was that they get sign-off on the content of this episode. And I've just realised I love sound gardens!