IAP S01E06: Towering Alan
ALAN
That was Japan, the effeminate futurists... from the eighties... with Life Can Be Cruel In Tokyo. It’s certainly congested, I’d love to go! In the meantime it’s seven o’clock, "Ooh, gov’nor, he’s got me banged to rights, it’s Chief Constable Dave Clifton of Scotland Yard’s very own plain-clothes Pop Force!".
DAVE
Yes, good morning, Alan, yes...
ALAN [interrupting]
Whoa, whoa, let me finish…"’Ello ‘ello ‘ello!".
DAVE
Yeah, I think you’re splidding hairs a little bit there, Alan –
ALAN
Sorry, 'splidding'?
DAVE
Yeah, splidding, you know.
ALAN
Sorry, it’s difficult to understand you when you say 'splidding', because I know in real life you say 'splitting'. It’s interesting, the way you substitute a D for a T when you’re broadcasting. If you ask me, it’s the behaviour of a dosser.
DAVE
A dosser?
ALAN
Yes. A dosser and a dwad.
DAVE
Alan Partridge, there...
ALAN [interrupting]
There’s others, aren’t there? There’s didhead, dalendless shid, and if the rumours are to be believed, you’re back on the boddle!
DAVE [ignoring ALAN]
Er, this is Einstein a Go-Go.
ALAN
Gid. That’s git.
[title sequence; on a Hamilton's barge, "It’s moored in Miami"]
[Linton corridor; ALAN is outside his room. Another guest, MIKE SAMPSON, walks by]
MIKE [cheerfully]
Home Sweet Home!
ALAN
Yeah.
MIKE
These corridors!
ALAN
Yeah, they are, aren’t they?
[MIKE laughs and walks off, annoying ALAN. In his room, LYNN is just leaving the bathroom]
LYNN
I just let myself in. I needed the toilet.
ALAN
Well, close the door. So, er… everything alright?
LYNN
Oh, just a little bit of tummy trouble.
ALAN
No, I mean generally. Not specifically the toilet.
LYNN
Oh, yes. Everything’s fine.
ALAN
Good. Right, so, what have you been doing?
LYNN
Well, I’ve been getting your clothes ready for the country show.
ALAN
Right.
LYNN
And doing a bit of tidying.
ALAN [concerned about the desk drawer]
Tidying? What do you mean, tidying?
LYNN
I just did the bed. I didn’t go near… your drawer.
ALAN [closing the drawer]
Good.
LYNN
By the way, they’d like you to judge the vegetable competition.
[ALAN puts on a very rurally-suited gilet, he looks like Farmer Partridge]
LYNN
Very manly. It works.
ALAN
All I need now is a shotgun. Both barrels. Bang! You’d hit the wall! Yeah. The good thing about this is it has the appearance of a bullet-proof vest, so any fanatics would be put off altogether, or they’d simply go for a head-shot. In which case, I won’t even know it’s happened.
LYNN
Alan, I’ve told you a thousand times, no-one wants to kill you. It defies sense! Why?
ALAN
Because I’m a soft target! They’re not going to go for the Prime Minister, he’s surrounded by bouncers. Yet everyone knows I will be in Swaffham at 3pm, outside the vegetable tent.
LYNN
Your mind’s flying!
ALAN
Of course my mind’s flying, Lynn. I’ve been living in a hotel for twenty-six weeks! A hundred and eighty two 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. And look at this, see this…
[empties a small cardboard box of tiny plastic bottles on to the bed]
ALAN
That is one hundred and eighty two bottles of body lotion! I was going to sell them at a car boot sale. I can’t remember what it’s like to dial a number from a telephone without hitting ‘9’ first.
[picking up the phone receiver and punctuates his point with a rough jab at the keypad]
ALAN
Hello? Is that reception? Sorry, I must have hit a zero.
ALAN
Lynn, I was at a friend’s house the other night. I was trying to make a phone call, I thought there was something wrong with the phone. I’d been hitting ‘9’, Lynn! I felt like a… ruddy idiot! I just left, I couldn’t stay there after that.
LYNN
Would you like a Horlicks?
ALAN
Yes please.
LYNN
I’ll make you a Horlicks.
[on the desk is a tray of hot drinks accessories, right above The Drawer. As LYNN draws near, ALAN kicks it shut]
ALAN
Not that drawer.
[knock on the door]
ALAN
Come in.
SOPHIE [carrying a box of assorted bric-a-brac]
Hello, Mr. Partridge. Everything alright with the room?
ALAN
Yes, marvellous!
SOPHIE
This box arrived for you.
ALAN
Oh, super! I’ve been trying to get my hands on this box off Carol for months!
SOPHIE [looking at a photo in the box]
Is that you?
ALAN
No, that’s my daughter, Denise. Bit of a rebel.
[SOPHIE starts shaking with silent laughter]
ALAN
What’s so funny?
SOPHIE
Nothing. It’s just that she really, really looks like you.
ALAN
Yeah, well it’s not me. You know, have I got a pierced navel?
SOPHIE
I don’t know.
ALAN
Well I haven’t! Ooh, great, Nigel Rees’ book of Humorous Graffiti. This is the Qur'an for the after-dinner speaker, it really is. I mean, quick tip for you Sophie, if you’re ever doing an after dinner speech, you say, "My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen, sorry I’m late, I just popped to the toilet. And while I was in there, I saw some graffiti and it 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, it’s not like a lot of the graffiti you see these days in toilets, just crude. Like, you know, 'Touch my this', 'Suck my such-and-such', 'Something all over my whatever'.
SOPHIE
My penis is so-and-so.
ALAN
Yeah, yeah. Oh… there we go, Lynn. Tony Hayers. I tell you something, Sophie, you’ve not witnessed pure evil until you’ve looked into the eyes of a man who’s just cancelled your second series.
SOPHIE
I think he looks quite nice.
LYNN [sternly]
The devil can take many forms.
ALAN
Alright, Lynn! [to SOPHIE] She’s a member of a Baptist church. I think they’re a bit [makes an X sign with his index fingers with a pained groan].
SOPHIE [to LYNN]
Sorry about saying penis, earlier.
ALAN
No, no. Don’t worry about that. Trapped a finger in a car door once, she swore like a docker.
[LYNN laughs playfully and then lightly slaps her wrist a couple of times]
SOPHIE
I brought you some more stationery. I’ll just put it in the drawer.
[Sophie goes to open The Drawer and ALAN, sat on the bed, dives to shut it with his hand in a manner that would impress a goalkeeper]
ALAN
I’d rather you didn’t put it in the drawer.
SOPHIE
Are you alright for body lotion?
ALAN
Yeah, sure. I’ve got one hundred and eighty-two bottles.
[going to leave, SOPHIE steals a glance in The Drawer]
SOPHIE
Bloody hell!
[Swaffham Country Fayre; a sign outside a marquee advertises the inclusion of "TV & Radio's ALAN 'AH HA' PARTRIDGE from Radio Norwich's 'Up With The Partridge']
ALAN [speaking over the PA system]
Clydesdale horses, twelve 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 fifteen feet of thin sheet metal from a pocket-sized box would have been killed as a witch. Tragic, really, to think 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.
[vegetable tent; a sign reads "Fruit Flower & Vegetable Show" with another sign attached beneath it saying "Judged by Radio's 'Alan Ah Ha Partridge'". Inside, ALAN is judging the entries while a steward follows, taking notes]
ALAN
Nice tray of plums, there. Just put "Nice plums". This is lovely this, this is sort of like an old lady’s hair. An old lady’s blonde hair. Quite attractive. I mean, 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 once. He’s dead now. An Irish navvy. Angina. Wasn’t pleasant.
Cabbages, don’t like cabbages at all. Come on, let’s get through this lot. Cabbages, they're all rubbish, so take your pick.
I’m not sure about these, because I don’t know whether this protrusion is a good or bad thing. Actually, this would make a very good murder weapon because you could beat someone 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 onion idea if I hit them over the head with it… and then ate the evidence.
[back to general fayre emceeing, people appear to not be listening to him]
ALAN
Fire! Fire! The fayre’s on fire! I’m joking of course, it’s not, but that’s the kind of thing you can see from… the… oh, what are they called? The local fire brigade - I don’t know the district - 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. 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. I don’t know if you’re familiar with BBC commissioning policy, they are obliged to contract out a certain percentage of their programmes to independent programme-makers, and… I mean… 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. Thank you, goodbye.
[feedback as ALAN puts the mic down and walks off]
[Linton lobby]
ALAN
Hello, Lynn.
LYNN
Oh, sorry, I was just doing the catalogues.
ALAN
Let’s have a look. You looking at the big girdle section? Interesting, isn’t it, that these women are technically models. Where do they get these men from? Who smiles at a Black and Decker Workmate, for goodness’ sake?!
LYNN
How did the country show go, Alan?
ALAN
Erm… I walked off.
LYNN [unsurprised]
Who’s upset you this time?
ALAN
Just… people. I just… hate... the general public.
[a phone rings at reception]
SUSAN
Excuse me, Alan, there’s a phone call for you.
ALAN
Who is it?
SUSAN
It’s Sue Cook.
ALAN
Oh, what does she want? [taking the receiver] Hello, Sue, it’s Alan. Yeah, Sue, take the fag out of your mouth, I can’t tell what you’re saying. What? Really? Oh my God! [to LYNN, hand over the receiver] Tony Hayers is dead!
LYNN
Yes!
ALAN
He fell of the roof of his house trying to remove the aerial. Broke his neck! [into phone] So, who’s replaced him as head of programmes? Chris Feather?
[ALAN keeps his voice professional but his body language is overjoyed]
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. And will Chris Feather be at the funeral? Right, right. Can you hold on a moment, Sue?
[to SUSAN]
Chris Feathers likes me! He likes me! Doesn’t he, yeah? He likes you! He used to flirt with Lynn all the time! Mind you, that was twenty years ago.
[back into phone]
Right, I think I’ll be going along, yes. Well, it’s the least I can do. You can puff away now.
[hangs up]
Kiss my face!
LYNN [arms wide to dispense a congratulatory hug]
Alan!
ALAN [offers his hand to shake]
Put it there, Lynn.
[LYNN's mood drops and they shake hands. ALAN gestures for her to go back to what she was doing and leaves reception in time to be joined by MIKE]
MIKE
Hello.
ALAN
Hello. You going to the lift too?
MIKE
Lift, yes, ha ha!
[lift; ALAN mans the control panel]
ALAN
First?
MIKE
Yes.
[there's an awkward silence as ALAN and MIKE stand in silence, well, almost silence. MIKE's jollity comes out in intermittent chuckles which annoys ALAN no end]
ALAN
Ping.
MIKE
Pardon?
ALAN
Oh, I’m just doing the noise the door makes...
[the lift pings, the doors open]
MIKE
Oh! Excellent!
ALAN [cutting in front of MIKE with a car noise]
Neeow!
MIKE
Oh, it’s like cars, this!
ALAN
That’s right.
MIKE
Excellent!
[Tony Hayers’ funeral; ALAN, dressed suitably in black but with a Castrol GTX bomber jacket, approaches CHRIS FEATHERS]
ALAN
Chris? Chris Feathers?
CHRIS
Alan! How are you?
ALAN
Well, very well. I mean, considering.
CHRIS
Oh, yes. Brilliant man.
ALAN
Oh, yes. He had a second-class honours degree in Media Studies from Loughborough University. What a waste.
CHRIS
Did you know they’ve asked me to take over Tony’s job as Chief Commissioning Editor?
ALAN
I had heard… something. Can I –
CHRIS
Just two minutes.
[CHRIS moves away to speak with someone else]
ALAN
Right.
[left alone, ALAN looks around. He sees the recently-widowed JANE, they lock eyes and he approaches her]
ALAN
How’re you doing?
JANE
Thank you for coming.
ALAN
Can I offer you my deep, deep… despair, on this very bad day.
JANE
Thank you.
ALAN
I mean, how are you coping?
JANE
Well, terrible, really. We’d booked to go on holiday next week.
ALAN
Oh, bugger!
JANE
He’d have been 41 next month.
ALAN
All those people who go around saying "Life Begins at Forty". They’re notable by their absence. The nerve! Were you close?
JANE
He was my husband.
ALAN
Yes, yes, of course. What was he doing on the bloody roof?
JANE
He was getting the aerial down because we were moving.
ALAN
Yeah, I know. I was being rhetorical. I mean, did he actually bring the aerial down with him?
JANE
Yes, he did.
ALAN
Comforting to know that the last thing he did was an act of kindness.
JANE
Thank you for the travel clock.
ALAN
Oh, you got it? Littlewoods are very quick, aren’t they?
JANE
They are, yes.
ALAN
Anyway, um... commiserations, and hang on in there, I’m sure you’ll bounce back. And if there’s anything I can do, just ask. Apart from heavy lifting, I’ve got a bit of a bad back.
[ALAN's phone rings]
ALAN
Should I leave that?
JANE
Yes –
ALAN
I’d better answer it. Hello, Partridge?
JANE [annoyed]
Can you go outside?
ALAN
Yeah, all right, all right.
[ALAN moves away but stops equidistant from the door and JANE]
ALAN
Oh, Curry’s, great. No, I was just talking to a widow, yeah. I want two speakers for an Alba stereo syst – hello? Oh, battery.
[ALAN returns to CHRIS who is standing alone, but as he approaches PETER LINEHAN draws near]
CHRIS
Peter!
PETER
Chris!
CHRIS
Oh, Alan, have you met Peter? He’s just revamped our news and current affairs.
[ALAN shrugs]
ALAN
Chris...
CHRIS
...just two minutes.
[CHRIS leaves again, leaving ALAN with PETER]
ALAN
Right.
PETER
Bad day.
ALAN
Right, yeah. Yeah.
PETER
Ironic, really. He worked in television his whole life, and died getting an aerial off a roof. So in the end, it was television that killed him.
ALAN
Yep, very good, that. Have you got a battery for an Ericsson?
PETER
Er, no, sorry. I wonder if he’s up there now, looking down on us?
ALAN
What, on the roof? Oh, I see! You mean in heaven… with the apostles…
PETER
Interesting thing about news and current affairs...
ALAN [interrupting]
Would it be terribly rude to stop listening to you and go and speak to somebody else?
PETER
No, no.
[ALAN pursues CHRIS, now talking to JANE]
CHRIS
Jane. Oh, Alan! Have you met Jane?
ALAN
Yeah, I’ve done her.
CHRIS
Oh, good.
ALAN
Chris, can I just...
CHRIS
...just two minutes.
ALAN [irritated]
He keeps saying that!
[left alone again with JANE, awkward silence]
ALAN
I’m just trying to… think of something to say.
JANE
Well there’s nothing to say.
ALAN
Well...
JANE
No, no. There’s nothing you can say.
ALAN
Well hang on, hang on! Erm… it’s all… a pain in the arse, isn’t it? Have you got a battery for an Ericsson?
JANE
No!
ALAN [continually glancing over to track the movements of CHRIS]
No, right. Of course not.
JANE
Is something the matter?
ALAN
Erm… I want to go and talk to him over there.
JANE
Well go and talk to him, then.
ALAN
Thank you. Oh, sorry, erm... [mimes a sympathetic 'boo hoo']
ALAN
Chris, Chris, can we have a chat?
CHRIS
Yes, of course, of course. Dreadful business.
ALAN
Oh, awful, awful business.
CHRIS
I tell you what; can you see me tomorrow, in the office?
ALAN
I’d love to.
CHRIS
I need to pick your brains.
ALAN
Pick away, pick away!
CHRIS
You’ve got the common touch.
ALAN
Thank you.
CHRIS
You’ve been away too long. Alan, I want you back on the telly.
ALAN [arms raised]
Jurassic Park! That is… that is fantastic. Fantastic.
CHRIS
The old team, eh?
ALAN
Absolutely, yeah.
CHRIS
Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.
[having got what he wants, ALAN turns to leave, stopping briefly to shake hands with another mourner on his way out]
ALAN
Terrible news, terrible news.
[ALAN leaves, filled with happiness, singing Elton John’s Song For Guy]
ALAN
Life isn’t everything…
[Linton lobby; ALAN enters the lobby singing the theme from The Generation Game, carrying a long cardboard box]
ALAN
Life is the name of the game, and I wanna play the game with you, baa ba da ba dabom bom pom…
SUSAN
How was your...
ALAN [loudly finishing the fanfare]
...BAM!
SUSAN
How was your day, Alan?
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 & Olufson stereo system. Do you like it?
SUSAN
Well, it’s in a box, Alan.
ALAN
Bit like Tony Hayers! Susan, Susan... will you go out with me?
SUSAN
No.
ALAN
Would you go out with me if I was younger and more attractive?
SUSAN
Erm, yes, I think I probably would.
ALAN
I better go and build that time-travel gymnasium, then. I’ll come back aged twenty-five, built like a brick shit-house! Then you’ll kiss me.
SUSAN
If you’ll excuse me a moment, Alan, I have to leave the desk unattended.
[Michael enters, carrying a larger B&O box, dumping it on reception]
MICHAEL
Hello, Mr. Partridge. I’m going to have to make two trips, man, I keep dropping bits of it. Right, I’ll bring you in the other bits and pieces.
ALAN
Okay.
[BEN emerges from the lift]
BEN
Bang & Olufson? Wow, that’s serious, man! Whose is it?
ALAN
It’s mine.
BEN
I didn’t know you were into music. I know you’re a DJ, but I’ve heard your show.
ALAN
Oh, yeah. I like all the bands. I’ve got a broad taste, you know. From the Britpop bands like UB40, Def Leppard... right back to classic rock, like Wings.
BEN
Who’s Wings?
ALAN
They’re only the band the Beatles could have been.
BEN
I love the Beatles.
ALAN
Yeah, so do I.
BEN
What’s your favourite Beatles album, then?
ALAN
Tough one. I think I’d have to say "The Best of the Beatles".
BEN
Gum?
ALAN [taking a pellet of gum and chewing nonchalantly]
Yeah, cheers. So, who’s your favourite singer, then?
BEN
Oh, anything, really, you know. Frank Sinatra, Kurt Cobain.
ALAN
Who’s he?
BEN
Nirvana. Blew his head off with a gun?
ALAN
Why?
BEN
He was depressed.
ALAN
Why, were they not very good?
BEN
No, they were great.
ALAN
Oh. Someone should’ve told him!
[perpetually cheerful MIKE walks past, sees the hi-fi boxes]
MIKE
Hello again! Ooh, what’s that?
ALAN
Bang & Olufson.
MIKE
Oh, ha ha ha ha!
[MIKE walks off, ALAN's face a mixture of bewilderment and disgust]
ALAN
Ben, can you take this up to my room?
BEN
Yeah, sure. No problem.
[ALAN goes in for a high-five but is left hanging, he styles it out and heads toward the lift]
MIKE
I'll hold the door for you.
ALAN
Thank you.
MIKE
Hold tight!
ALAN
Yeah.
[they stand side by side, MIKE emitting a short chuckle, seemingly at nothing, much to the chagrin of ALAN]
MIKE
Nearly there!
[ALAN forces a laugh, MIKE responds laughing louder which only serves to be more annoying]
ALAN
Unbelievable!
[BBC Television Centre; CHRIS FEATHER’s office. Chris and Alan share a bawdy laugh]
ALAN
Join in, Lynn!
[LYNN smiles weakly]
ALAN
So, Chris, what’s your strategy?
CHRIS
God alone knows, Alan.
ALAN
Can I say one word to you? Streamlining.
CHRIS
That’s… sacking people?
ALAN
Well, basically, yeah.
CHRIS [looking at a list of names]
Well, where do I start?
ALAN
Who was that man who was boring me at the funeral?
CHRIS
Oh, Peter Linehan? Well, he’s just revamped News and Current Affairs.
ALAN
Yeah, but he’s finished revamping it now. So, give him a painting of a spitfire and let him go.
CHRIS
Okay.
ALAN [also checking the list]
And… Susan Pickardy. Know her?
CHRIS
Oh yeah, documentaries. Feminist, with the flat chest. She doesn’t have that problem, does she?
ALAN
No.
[LYNN crosses her arms]
ALAN
Don’t crush them, Lynn!
CHRIS [to LYNN]
How are you? Did you get married?
LYNN
Er, no.
CHRIS
I got divorced.
ALAN
I’m sure Lynn would be happy to go for a drink with you, if that’d help things.
LYNN [quietly, under duress]
Yes, yes.
ALAN
Do you want to make a note of that, Lynn? "Go for drink with head of programmes". Right, let’s get down to business. Can we talk about... me?
CHRIS
Yeah, alright! What can I do for you?
ALAN
Right, bottom line, Chris. I want a six-month contract at the BBC to make television programmes.
CHRIS
No, Alan, I’m not going to give you a six-month contract.
ALAN [atmosphere soured]
Yeah, you’re just like all the rest, aren’t you? You sit there on your fat, spotty behind, in dead man’s chair, leching at her like a piece of meat...
CHRIS [interrupting]
Alan, Alan, Alan! I’m not going to give you a six-month contract, because I have prepared a five year one.
ALAN [genuinely pleased]
That’s brilliant!
CHRIS
Two hundred thousand pounds a year.
ALAN
That’s a million pounds! Jurassic Park. I’m sorry for saying you were fat, before. I just mean you’re big-boned.
CHRIS
That’s alright. How about celebrating? Let’s get a bottle of Bolly!
ALAN
Sod that! Let’s have some champagne! On me. Go on, Lynn, go and get it.
[LYNN leaves]
CHRIS
Right then.
[while signing the contracts, CHRIS coughs a few times and finally slumps forward, pen still in hand]
ALAN
I suppose you want to check the small print…come on, Chris! You must have seen a dozen contracts like that…
[CHRIS slumps sideways]
ALAN
Ha ha ha, oh no! …Ohh, no… Chris? Chris? Oh God! Um...
[ALAN goes over to the desk to examine CHRIS's lifeless body, craning in to pointlessly listen at his head for signs of conscience]
ALAN
Hello, Chris! Are you dead? Erm, oh God.
[ALAN picks up the phone to contact someone, but before dialling sees that CHRIS hasn't finished signing the contracts. He looks around furtively and puts the phone down, guiding CHRIS' hand to finish the signature]
ALAN
…finish signing it, there. Chris… Feather…. Bit tedious, all this contract business. Oh, you’ve got the date wrong, there, so just… initial that… my copy... Er… here’s to the future! Sorry…
[Linton; ALAN's room. There are drinks and nibbles laid out for his leaving party, and a banner has "THANK-YOU STAFF & GOODBYE" across 24 sheets of pink Linton Travel Tavern-headed stationery]
ALAN
You think that’s alright? Not too sentimental?
LYNN
No.
ALAN
Excellent. Do you want to put something on?
LYNN
Oh, yes.
ALAN
I’ll just go and check the party bags.
[in the bathroom, ALAN distributes Werther's Originals and Wotsits into sanitary bags. LYNN puts Galloping Home (Theme from Black Beauty) on the hi-fi]
ALAN
What’s this, Lynn?
LYNN
It’s the theme tune from Black Beauty.
ALAN
It’s brilliant!
[knock on the door, and ALAN answers it]
ALAN
Hello? Ah, Michael!
MICHAEL
Aye-aye, Mr. Partridge!
ALAN
Do you want me to take that?
MICHAEL
Er, no, I’ve had a fair bit already. I’ll stick with it, man.
ALAN
That’s fine, but it does preclude you from the alcohol that I’ve provided.
MICHAEL
Oh, you’re alright. I’m alright with the Scrumpy!
ALAN
Right. That’s a nice shirt.
MICHAEL
Aye, I got married in this. Do you like it? I got it from Manilla.
ALAN
I didn’t know you were married.
MICHAEL
Aye. I married a Filipino lassie, like. It didn’t work out. She didn’t like Newcastle and she didn’t fit in with the culture.
ALAN
Right, so she’s gone back home?
MICHAEL
No, she moved to Sunderland. She’s shacked up with my brother.
ALAN
Oh, right.
LYNN
Michael, would you like a miniature scotch egg?
MICHAEL
Oh, not for me, pet, I’ve got myself a steak and kidney pie. Oh, look at that, I’ve sat on the bastard, would you believe it?!
ALAN [quietly, to LYNN]
Would you keep an eye on him?
LYNN
Yes.
[another knock on the door]
ALAN
Thank God for that.
MICHAEL
Aye-aye.
[our next guest is the terminally-chipper MIKE, carrying a bottle of white wine]
MIKE
Hello! Ha ha ha ha!
ALAN
Ah! Come in!
MIKE
Thank you very much, thank you.
[MIKE puts his bottle down on the cabinet and notices that The Drawer is slightly opened. He opens it some more and laughs at the contents. ALAN shuts it quickly]
ALAN
Would you like a glass of wine?
MIKE
Oh, thank you very much. Cheers! Thank you.
ALAN [quietly, to Lynn]
What’s he doing here?
LYNN
You said invite a guest.
ALAN
Lynn, that’s just a phrase, I didn’t mean it.
MIKE
Nice room.
MICHAEL
So, er, who are you?
MIKE
Oh, Mike Sampson. Nice to meet you.
MICHAEL
Oh, hey, I’m Michael an’ all!
MIKE
Oh!
MICHAEL
So, have you got a job?
MIKE
Oh, yes, yes. I supply fitted kitchens.
MICHAEL
Oh, aye?
MIKE
The funny thing is, that I’ve been in the business for fifteen years, but I can’t actually cook! You see a cookery book here, it wouldn’t be much use to me!
MICHAEL
Mr. Partridge, he said he sells kitchens, right, for fifteen year, but he cannat cook!
ALAN
I know, I heard him, yeah.
MICHAEL
Then, right, he sees the cook book, and he says “that’d be no good to me, that, would it?”
ALAN
I know, I heard him.
MICHAEL
Ah, come on, lighten up, you stuffy get!
ALAN [quietly, to LYNN]
Lynn, this is terrible. This is terrible!
[another knock on the door]
ALAN
Oh good, great.
[it's SUSAN, BEN and SOPHIE]
ALAN
Oh, the cavalry! Come on in! Great, come in. Look at the sign, there, it says "Thank You Staff, and Goodbye".
ALAN
It’s all happening now. This is Michael, he sells kitchens.
MIKE
Yes, I was just saying to the others, I sell kitchens but I can’t actually cook myself!
MICHAEL
Right, and then he spies that cook book, right, and he says "That’d be nee use to me, man!". He’s crackers, man!
BEN
So, Mike, where do you live?
MIKE
I come from Acton, in west London.
SOPHIE
Is it nice?
MIKE
Yes, it’s quite nice, yes… A few too many blacks.
[MIKE's smile stays, everyone else is stunned into silence. Cut to ALAN leading MIKE out to the corridor]
ALAN
I hope you don’t mind, it’s just some people found what you said... a bit racist.
MIKE
Mmm. Ha ha ha!
ALAN
Party bag?
MIKE
Ooh, thank you very much. Bye bye. Ha ha!
ALAN
Watch the fire hose!
MIKE
Oohh! Ha ha!
[back in his room, the party guests are congregated around The Drawer, puling away sheepishly when ALAN returns. Caught out, LYNN awkwardly sings a version of Rattlin' Roarin' Willie]
LYNN
Oh, rattlin' roarin' Willie is he, he's off to the BBC! Oh, rattlin' roarin' Willie is he, he's off to the BBC! Oh, Willie goes there and Willie goes there, and Willie goes there and there. Oh, Willie goes there and Willie goes there, and Willie goes there and there and there!
ALAN
Extraordinary. So, what do people think about the pedestrianisation of Norwich city-centre?
MICHAEL
Oh, aye. I reckon it’s a really good idea, like.
ALAN
Mmm. You’re wrong…
MICHAEL
Oh, man, what about mothers with pushchairs and little bairns and that, you know?
ALAN
Oh, Michael, you’ve got a lot to learn.
MICHAEL [drunken belligerence]
No, man, look, it’s you who’s got a lot to learn, right, because folks should be giving up their cars...
SUSAN
Michael, Michael! Mr. Partridge is still a guest in this hotel. Now I think perhaps you’ve had just a little bit too much to drink, and maybe it’s time that you should leave.
MICHAEL
Oh, well, if that’s how you all feel.
[MICHAEL trails off, grumbling. SOPHIE and BEN are giggling together]
SUSAN
Now, you two can stop giggling.
ALAN [to SOPHIE and BEN]
Dunno what her problem is!
SUSAN [screaming at ALAN]
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 a hundred and eighty-two days, you little shit! Ben and Sophie I want you on reception! And you! Check out is twelve noon tomorrow!
ALAN [offering a party bag]
Do you want one of these?
SUSAN
A sanitary bag!? What are you trying to say!?
[she slaps ALAN's face, and storms out]
ALAN
I think that went quite well. Shall we clear up? I fancy an early night.
LYNN
Shall I put Black Beauty on again?
ALAN
Yes, we can clear up while we listen to ‘Black Beauty’.
LYNN [holding up two plastic cups of red wine]
Down the sink?
ALAN
Yep.
LYNN
Okay, down the sink.
[they clean up, as the credits roll we fade to ALAN's imaginary lap-dancing club before ending on a shot of ALAN playfully running through a corn field]
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