John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme Episode 1 Season 1 Transcript

Full transcript of the episode - I have now listened to it a quite ridiculous number of times. ----------------------------------------------------Opening Credits------------------------------------JF: Ah, hello, I saw your sign. MAN WITH VAN: Yeah? JF: Man and van MAN WITH VAN: Thats me JF: No job too big or small, satisfaction guaranteed. MAN WITH VAN: Thats right, yeah. JF: Good, good. You see, I have a killer whale. MAN WITH VAN: A what? JF: An orca, if you prefer. And I need it moved from Sea World, Bristol to Edinburgh Zoo. MAN WITH VAN: Why? JF: She weighs six and a half tons and must, of course, be kept in strictly temperature-controlled salt water at all times. MAN WITH VAN: Why are you telling me this? JF: Well, its a big job. MAN WITH VAN: Yeah. JF: And for you of course, no job is too big. MAN WITH VAN: Well, within reason. JF: Oh, within reason? MAN WITH VAN: Yeah, obviously within reason, yeah. I mean, youd need a specialist for something like that. JF: Well interestingly, no I dont. Because I do not in fact have a killer whale, or indeed an orca. MAN WITH VAN: Then what are-? JF: What I have is a crusading desire to correct false and misleading advertising wherever I see it! MAN WITH VAN: Get out JF: So I take it you will amend your sign? MAN WITH VAN: Come on, clear off, you weirdo JF: To read: some jobs, too big MAN WITH VAN: I mean it, sod off! JF: Wait! Ive got another job for you MAN WITH VAN: I dont wanna hear it, get out JF: No, really, a real job, Ill pay you

MAN WITH VAN: What is it? JF: I want you to pick something up for me MAN WITH VAN: What? JF: A packet of crisps MAN WITH VAN: A packet of crisps? JF: No job too small MAN WITH VAN: Where from? (JF places crisps down) MAN WITH VAN: Alright (picks up crisps) JF: Oh. Thank you MAN WITH VAN: My pleasure. Thatll be three hundred quid.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (fanfare) GUARD1: Halt, traveller. In your quest to reach the Sapphire City you must now pass this test. Before you are two doors. Behind one lies the path you seek, behind the other, a tiger with a gun. In front of each door is a guard. One always lies, the other always tells the truth. You may ask TRAVELLER1: Oh right, yeah, this one, yeah. You? GUARD2: Hello TRAVELLER1: If I asked the other guy which door led to the city, which would he say? GUARD2: (sighs) Hed say this one TRAVELLER1: Then I, my friends, will go through the other! GUARD1: Yeah, well done TRAVELLER1: Nice doing business with you! (door opens then shuts again) GUARD1: You know, we really need a new puzzle GUARD2: Yeah. Yeah, I totally disagree. GUARD1: Honestly, its getting ridiculous. Everyone knows the answer these days. GUARD2: Youre absolutely wrong. They never know the answer, they always get eaten by the tiger, and its not annoying at all. GUARD1: I mean, that poor tiger hasnt eaten for weeks.

GUARD2: And I really love how smug they always are about it. GUARD1: Yeah, me too. Whoever it is pays us to sort-of guard these two doors really ought to do something about it. GUARD2: No, they shouldnt. Its fine the way it is. NEW GUARD: Er, excuse me GUARD1: Oh, sorry, didnt see you. Halt, traveller! On your NEW GUARD: Uh, no, Im not actually a traveller GUARD1: Arent you? NEW GUARD: Yes I am. Im a traveller seeking the Sapphire City. GUARD1: Right, well! Before you are two doorsNEW GUARD: Uh, no, sorry, Im not a traveller. Im a new guard sent to join you GUARD1: What, a new guard? GUARD2: Weve been told all about a new guard and were expecting you GUARD1: Dont mind her, she always- Hang on, are you sure youre not a traveller? Because Im not allowed to say this to travellers NEW GUARD: Yes, I am a traveller, I told you. So whats up with these doors then? GUARD1: You are a traveller? NEW GUARD: No GUARD2: I think he really is a traveller GUARD1: No, nor do I. But if youre a guard, whats your rule? NEW GUARD: I always tell the truth GUARD1: Well thats no good, thats what I do. I always tell the truth. GUARD2: Yeah, me too, I always tell the truth. We cant all tell the truth GUARD1: She doesnt, she always lies. But I do always tell the truth, so you cant do that. NEW GUARD: I dont always tell the truth, I alternately tell the truth and lie GUARD1: Do you? NEW GUARD: No, I always lie GUARD2: Butbut thats not what I always do GUARD1: Look, how can we work out what your rule really is? NEW GUARD: Well, logically, when I said I always lie just now, thats something that could only be said by someone who sometimes lies and sometimes tells the truth. GUARD1: yes, thats true! GUARD2: No, its not! NEW GUARD: No, its not

GUARD1: Isnt it? NEW GUARD: Yes, it is. GUARD1: Hang on. Let me start again. (fanfare) TRAVELLER2: Ho there! I seek the path to the Sapphire City. GUARD1: Ah, hello! Right, youre the first to try our new test. NEW GUARD: Yes. Before you lie two doors. Both lead to the Sapphire City, but one is a prettier route. There is no tiger with a gun. GUARD1: Hang on! GUARD2: Hey! Hey, thats fair. I never wanted to be the one to set the puzzle and Im always allowed to be! GUARD1: Yes, thats because only I can set the puzzle, otherwise its confusing TRAVELLER2: Whats going on? NEW GUARD: One of us always tells the truth, one always lies and one alternates truth and lie. GUARD1: Yes, that bits true, but only one of the doors leads to the city and there is a tiger with a gun NEW GUARD: Actually, theres three doors. One leads to a city full of tigers, but no guns. One leads to a gunfull of tigers, but no city. And one leads to Portsmouth. GUARD2: No, no, in fact there are sixteen doors. Two lead to the city, eight lead to one another, one is made of marmalade! GUARD1: Stop it! He can see how many doors there are, you idiots! Now he knows you two both lie at least sometimes, so I must always tell the truth! TRAVELLER2: Oh, really? Well which door leads to the city? GUARD1: Oh, bloody hell - that one. TRAVELLER2: Thanks! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- PRESENTER: Hello, this is a Radio 4 book programme of some sort, presumably, and I am its presenter. I dont get a name, it just says Presenter. And no wonder, because after this bit its basically just tell me more and go on for the whole sketch. Joining me now is Nicholas Bolton, the editor of a new book, 500 Things To Do Before Youre 30. Nicholas Bolton, welcome to the show. Tell me more NICHOLAS: Thank you, presenter. Its a pleasure to be here. Just to pick you up on one thing, its not actually a new book. Its a new edition of quite an old one PRESENTER: Really? NICHOLAS: Yes. In fact, weve been publishing this book in some form or other ever since the Bronze Age. When it read, in its entirety: Two things to do before youre thirty. One: survive, two: procreate. PRESENTER: Tell me more

NICHOLAS: Well, this was the version we carried on publishing unchanged for the overwhelming majority of all human history. Eventually, and in relative terms incredibly recently, we added a third thing to do in some markets: try to find a way of not minding too much about death. PRESENTER: Go on NICHOLAS: Well, these two or three things to do before youre thirty were more than enough of a challenge for almost everyone who ever lived. Until just a couple of dozen years ago when incredible advances in first world standards of living meant we could suddenly revise it up to 50, and start making people feel inadequate for not paragliding, swimming with dolphins or going to Bali. PRESENTER: And thats the version youre re-issuing this year? NICHOLAS: Yes, only its now 500 things, to ensure that not even the most dedicated time and money rich twenty-something can possibly achieve them all. PRESENTER: So, can we expect a thousand things next year? NICHOLAS: Well no, because during the course of this interview Ive become overwhelmed with shame. And Ive realised that while theres nothing wrong with telling people about exciting or interesting things they might not have thought of doing, its pretty twisted to turn that into a guilt trip, that uses peoples natural anxiety about making the best use of their time on earth as a stick to beat them with. And incredibly arrogant to set ourselves up as the arbiter of things people must do at all, let alone putting a sodding time limit on it. So were gonna go back to basics, call it Two Things To Do Before Or After Youre 30 and give it away free on a postcard. PRESENTER: So back to survive and procreate? NICHOLAS: No, because most people who can afford books survive to thirty anyway, and it turns out you dont need to procreate if you dont want to. Its going to read one: be kind, two: have fun. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (answerphone beep) ANSWERPHONE: Hi, this is Katie, leave me a message (beep) CHRIS: Oh, hi Katie, it, uh, Chris here, from the pub. Not- not from the pub, I mean we met in a pub, I dont live in the pub. Though my friends would tell you otherwise! No, they wouldnt, Im a very moderate drinker. Though, you know, Im fun. You know, I can let my hair down. Whats left of it! No, theres plenty left of it. Its just, going a bit on the crown, its not Anyway, its Chris, and Im- ImIm going to record this again. (presses button) ANSWERPHONE: To re-record you message, press one. To listen to your messages, pre(presses button) CHRIS: Oh, hi Katie, its Chris here. We met the other night in the pub I sometimes-but-not-always go to. At Bens birthday. Well, I always go to Bens birthday, but its not always in the pub. And I go to the pub at times that arent Bens birthday, but this wasnt one of those times, it was Bens birthday and it was in the pub, well you know that, because you were there, thats where we met and bloody hell, Chris, pull yourself together! (beep) ANSWERPHONE: To re-record your message, press(beep)

CHRIS: Oh, hi Katie, its Chris here, we met at Bens birthday. Anyway, look, um, Ive no idea if youd be interested but I remember you said when we were talking you liked music and Well, I mean obviously everyone likes music Sorry, I dont mean thats a stupid thing for you to say, I just mean its stupid of me to think that just because you like music you necessarily want to- Oh shut up you stupid wittering git! (beep) ANSWERPHONE: To re-record your(beep) CHRIS: Oh hi, Katie, its Chris here. Uh from Bens party. A bit out of the blue, but we were talking about music, werent we? And Ive Ive actually got a couple of tickets to that band I was telling you about Well, I havent got them yet, cause you might say no, but I could get them if you- I mean, anyone could get them, Im not saying Hey, Im amazing I can get these tickets, theyve not sold out or anything, theyre not that popular, I mean theyre good, but for Gods sake, whats the matter with you?! (beep) ANSWERPHONE: To re-record your(beep) CHRIS: Oh hi, Chrissie, its Kate here. Oh for- ! (beep) ANSWERPHONE: To re-record(beep) CHRIS: Oh, hello. Sorry, I must have the wrong number. Oh, but you must be Katie from Bens thing Hi, its Chris here, hiya. Sorry, I was trying to ring another Katie I know, but- Oh but actually, since Im talking to you No no no, this is a terrible idea (beep) ANSWERPHONE: To re(beep) CHRIS: Hi, Katie, its Chris Callander here, we met at Bens party. Listen, you know I was telling you about Next To Zero? Well, um, Im going along to their gig at the Albany on Friday, just wondered if youd like to come along? It would be nice to see you again. No worries if youre busy, but - give me a call back on this number if you fancy me. It! If you fancy it! What the hell is wrong with me? (beepbeepbeepbeepbeep) ANSWERPHONE: You have reached the maximum two minute message length. CHRIS: What? What do you mean two minute? Oh god. ANSWERPHONE: Message saved. CHRIS: No! ANSWERPHONE: Please hang up CHRIS: No! No! No! ANSWERPHONE: Please hang up, Please hang up. Please hang up

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- LAWYER: And that, my Lord, is why my client, a man with no previous criminal record whatsoever, disguised himself with a balaclava helmet and attempted to mug the plaintiff, for her phone. We are therefore entering a plea of Guilty, but come on, seriously, what else could he do? --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- NARRATOR: One day, Pooh Bear was on his way home with a brand new jar of honey. And he was just deciding whether it was a late elevenses sort of a jar, or a little something before lunch sort of a jar, when what should he find but all his friends waiting to surprise him. POOH: Oh, hullo. Youre just in time for a little smackerel of something. RABBIT: No, Pooh. Therell be no smackerels of anything today PIGLET: Pooh, we want to talk to you about your destructive relationship with honey CHRISTPOHER ROBIN: Yes. And weve all got together to talk to you about it, because we love you. Its called a- whats it called, Owl? OWL: An interdivention. CHRISTOHER ROBIN: Thats right, an ind-er-biv-ention. And were having one for you, and this is it. POOH: Oh. Is it like a party? OWL: It is very unlike a party, Pooh Bear. Its an opportunity for your friends to talk to you frankly about your honey abuse POOH: Honey abuse? Oh, no no no. Im fond of the odd jar, butRABBIT: Pooh. Last time you came to my house you gorged so much honey you became physically stuck in my doorway. For three days. Im sorry, Pooh, but thats not controlled behaviour POOH: Well, you take one little incidentKANGA: Its not just the one incident, Pooh dear. Eeyore, dyou have something to say to Pooh? EEYORE: Hello Pooh. Do you remember my birthday? No reason why you should of course, but if you do you might recall giving methis. What is this, Pooh? POOH: Its aa useful pot to put things in EEYORE: Look me in the eye and tell me thats what it is POOH: That is to say, I KANGA: you bought him a jar of honey, didnt you? And on the short trip across the wood to his house you ate it. You ate your friends birthday present. POOH: Eeyore liked the pot, he said so EEYORE: Of course I didnt like the pot, I was horribly embarrassed for you, I was just being nice! POOH: Piglet, youre not part of all this, surely? PIGLET: Pooh, this is so difficult for me, but you were there for me when I was coming off the haycorns, and I need to be here for you now. Pooh, when you cant get your fix Im scared of you! That time with the balloon

POOH: That was just a little spot of bother PIGLET: Pooh! You ran out of honey, so you tied yourself to a balloon and tried to steal some from the bees! Thats not a spot of bother, Pooh, thats the reckless desperation of an addict. POOH: Come on, everybody loves my honey eating! Its endearing, its comical CHRISTPOHER ROBIN: Im sorry, Pooh, it used to be funny how a bear likes honey, but its not funny any more PIGLET: Pooh, the thing is, were only doing this because we care for you andwell - we dont want to see you go the way of Tigger POOH: Tigger? Oh God, am I like Tigger? KANGA: Dont you bring Tigger into this! Tiggers just a bouncy boy who likes his strengthening medicine! POOH: Kanga, Tigger is a psychotic tiger with a steroid addiction. And if thats how people think of mealright, thank you friends. This afternoon, Im throwing away my honey. (they clap) CHRISTOPHER ROBIN: Well done, Pooh. Were sorry to be so hard on you, but we just had to say something, didnt we, Owl? OWL: Indeed we did, Christopher Robin. It was the heffalump in the room that no-one was talking about. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- JF: I know, like the other day - my nephew got me to play tennis with him and I was awful KATE: Oh no!

JF: Yeah, he wiped the floor with me. Hes only twelve KATE: God, poor you JF: I know. I mean, I was never brilliant at it, but I used to play every weekend, I was alright. KATE: I suppose youre just out of practice RUDE MAN: Well yeah, and also youll have put on a lot of weight.

JF: What? RUDE MAN: Uh, well, no offence but you are quite fat now. I assume you werent when you were playing tennis every week. JF: Sorry, have we met? RUDE MAN: No. Oh, sorry, yeah I should have said - Im the sort of person that likes to speak my mind. JF: Oh RUDE MAN: Yes, thats the thing about me, Im afraid I dont really hold with political correctness. I mean, when you think about it, why should I have to filter what I say because someone else might not like my opinions? No, I just call a spade a spade Oh, Kates gone. JF: Oh, well thats very, umrefreshing, I suppose.

RUDE MAN: I think so, its more honest, isnt it? JF: Do you find people sometimes get offended? RUDE MAN: Well, sometimes, yes, but the way I see it, I speak as I find and if people dont like it, thats their problem, really JF: I agree, actually. Youre quite right RUDE MAN: Im glad to hear it. Because Im that kind of a Marmite person actually, people either love me or hate me. JF: Yeah, I bet they do. Well, um, if youll excuse me RUDE MAN: What? JF: Well I need a wee. RUDE MAN: Oh right, okay. JF: Excuse me. (undoes zip) So, how do you come to know(splashing sound) RUDE MAN: What- what are you doing?

JF: Hmm? RUDE MAN: You said you were going to the loo JF: No, I didnt, I said I needed a wee. Oh, sorry, I should have said. Im the sort of person that just wees on the floor. RUDE MAN: Thats disgusting! JF: Yeah, thats the thing about me. Im afraid I dont really hold with going to the loo. I mean, when you think about it, why should I have to go off to a little room because someone might not like my urine? No, I just wee where I stand. Its more honest, isnt it? RUDE MAN: But youre splashing me! JF: Yeah, well people do get splashed sometimes, but the way I see it, I urinate where I like, and if other people dont like it thats their problem, really. RUDE MAN: Youre disgusting! JF: Yeah, well Im kinda like a Marmite-flavoured toothpaste person - people hate me. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ANNOUNCER: 1974, 11 Hodgson Gardens, Ledgeworth. UNCLE BRIAN: So, Jamie. What do you want to be when you grow up? JAMES: Thomas the Tank Engine (they laugh) MUM: Aw, bless im

UNCLE BRIAN: You cant be an engine, Jamie, can you? I mean, what job do you want to do? JAMES: I, I, II want to be the man who makes the noise of the TARDIS MUM: Actually hes very good. Do your TARDIS noise for Uncle Brian, Jamie .JAMIE: ...shy UNCLE BRIAN: Go on! JAMIE: Vroooomuh, vroomoomuh vroooom UNCLE BRIAN: Oh, very good. Whats the TARDIS, Pam? MUM: Shhh! ANNOUNCER: 1983 MUM: James, now youre 15 your Dad and I really think you should work out what you might want to do after school JAMES: I have actually MUM: Oh good! What are you thinking? JAMES: Im going to be the man that makes the noise of the TARDIS MUM: No, James - seriously JAMES: If you dont want to know, dont ask me! ANNOUNCER: 1985, King Edward IV Grammar School, Richmond. TEACHER: Tredwell, Ive been looking at your UCAS form and I see youve only applied to colleges that offer sound engineering. JAMES: Yes, sir TEACHER: Well, its a very limited field. I mean, youve got excellent grades, why not apply for engineering generally? JAMES: No, sir, Im going to be a sound engineer, and work in the BBC Radiophonic Workshop and be the man that makes the noise of the TARDIS, sir. TEACHER: Are you being cheeky, Tredwell? JAMES: No, sir ANNOUCNER: 1989 Graduation Ceremony, Nottingham University MUM: Congratulations, son! DAD: Were very proud of you - first class degree. JAMES: Thanks mum, thanks dad MUM: Oh, were sorry to hear about that show you like JAMES: What?

MUM: That space show you always used to watch. We heard on the radio coming down theyre not going to make it any more JAMES: Right. ANNOUNCER: 1993 Graduation Ceremony, Warwick University MUM: Congratulations, son! DAD: Yes, well done. I mean it still beats me why you need another degree at all, let alone in media studies. But all credit to you, another first. MUM: So, whats next? JAMES: Oh, Ive got some ideas ANNOUNCER: 1994, Pebble Mills Studios, Birmingham PEBBBLE MILLS WOMAN: Well listen, I like your enthusiasm. We can offer you an internship, but Im afraid itll be unpaid JAMES: Thats fine ANNOUNCER: 1996-2002 EMPLOYER1: Mr Tredwell, Im delighted to say your application has been successful. You start as Assistant Producer on Tuesday. TV MAN: Jim, we were hoping you could produce this series EMPLOYER2: Well, if youre sure you want to move to the management side, Jim, youre just the sort of person we need NEWSREADER1: Overseen by the newly appointed controller of BBC3, James NEWSREADER2: ...Tredwell, who was today announced as the new controller of BBC1 ANNOUNCER: 2003, BBC Television Centre JAMES: So, uh, thank you for coming in, Russell. Ive been looking through your pitch documents, youve got a lot of good ideas. RTD: Well, thank you very much. Im uh, particularly excited aboutJAMES: Forgive me though, theres something Id like to pitch to you. I think its about time we brought back Doctor Who RTD: DoctorWho? Yes, I mean - that would be my absolute dream job! JAMES: Good, good. It would need careful handling, though. I mean for instance- random example - where would you get the noise of the TARDIS from? RTD: Uh, well Well, is the BBC Radiophonic Workshop still going? JAMES: Im afraid not, but theres an excellent sound department at BBC Cardiff RTD: Well, there then I suppose

JAMES: Im very pleased to hear you say that ANNOUNCER: 2004 NEWSREADER: In a surprise announcement, the controller of BBC1 today announced he was stepping down, after only two months in the job. He will instead be taking up a relatively junior post as overseer of sound production at BBC Cardiff ANNOUNCER: 2005, Cardiff (phone rings) JAMES: Hello? RTD: Oh, is that Jim? Its Russell here. Uh, Jim, weve just opened the effects package you sent usI think theres been a mix-up JAMES: I dont think so RTD: Well, listen to this. This is how the TARDIS effect you sent us is coming out RECORDING: Vrooooom, vrooooom, vroooooomuh JAMES: Thats right, yes. Thats exactly right. RTD: Well, Im sorry Jim, that wont work at all. Could you do us an alternative? JAMES: No. That is the noise of the TARDIS. and I am the man that makes it. RTD: Well, Im afraid not, Jim. If thats the best you can do were going to have to go elsewhere. JAMES: What? No!

RTD: Im sorry, Jim JAMES: No! NO! (RTD hangs up) JAMES: No! ANNOUNCER: 2006, Laxley scenic railway (walkie-talkie buzzes) POLICE OFFICER: Hello base, this is patrol car Delta-Whisky-Zero-Four. Weve picked up a white male in his forties trespassing on the railway line (walkie-talkie buzzes) Thats right, sir, walking down the middle of the track pulling a row of toy trucks (walkie-talkie buzzes) Wont give a name, sir, he just says hes a very useful engine. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ MATT: Of course you must, I mean, youve just got to

TINA: How can I, Matt? How can I leave you and the kids for so long? MATT: Because youll never get another opportunity like it. Its not just the job youve always wanted, its an all expenses paid trip to Barbados, for Gods sake TINA: I know, I know, but - six months? I dont think I can, and its not fair on you. MATT: Look, Ill cope. Ive got some leave saved up, my sister will help out, well make this work somehow, you just cant pass this up. TINA: I dont know MATT: Tina, you have to, listen to me, you have to go. (phone rings) MATT: Hello? PAUL: Oh, hi, Matt, its Paul. Is your wife around? MATT: Oh, didnt you hear? Shes gone to the West Indies PAUL: Oh. Jamaica? MATT: Yes, I did. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- STORYTELLING MAN: Well, since you ask me for a ghost story, I did once hear of a peculiar occurrence, the narration of which may divert you. It began when I dropped in on my club one night. It was the evening of the annual club game of HeyHo-Rumbelow, in which we line up six of the shortest member of the club, and attempt to knock them down with the fattest member. All without waking the sleepiest member. It is my job on these occasions, as the clubs most boring member, to sit in a side room by myself and not talk to anyone. For every fifteen minutes I successfully do this I am awarded with a try, although curiously tries play no other part in the scoring system. I had just scored my fifth try when I was joined by a losing sportsman from the game next door. He was a tall, lean man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sandy moustache. I should explain that the forfeits in Hey-Ho-Rumbelow are predominantly powdery in nature. I cannot remember how we got onto the subject of the otherworldly, and supernatural. It may be because thats what I always bang on aboutor it may not. Are you yourself a believer? I asked him, and he shook his head emphatically. But when we had both finished coughing, I noticed he seemed suddenly unsure. Mind you, he said, there was one peculiar thing for which I could never find a rational explanation. Intrigued, I urged him to tell his story, and pausing only to comb the icing sugar from his mutton chops, he began: MAN IN CLUB: Well, I was leaving this very club, not two weeks agobut four years ago. It was a cold night, and I reached into my jacket pocket. I tell you this partly because it is germane to my story, and partly because I like saying jacket pocket. Jacket pocket. (whispers) Jacket pocket. It was my tobacco pouch I sought, but instead I found a letter. But a letter I had not put there myself, and indeed had never seen before. Was it an epistle from the other world? Had it been placed there by a time travelling future version of myself? Had I picked up the wrong jacket? Whatever the explanation, the letter made curious reading. Here is how it went: CYRIL: My dear Uncle. My cycling tour continues tolerably well. The weather is unusually hot for February, but then of course it is July. I have taken lodgings for a few days at a quaint inn by the name of The Horse and the Other Horses, where I intend to do a little angling, a little reading and a little smack. My landlady is a jolly old countrywoman whose cheery smile proclaims her a worthy hostess, and whose floury forearms proclaim her a but indifferent player of HeyHo-Rumbelow. One evening, we got to talking, and she told me a story more terrifying and inexplicable than any I have heard. But you shall be the judge, Uncle, for I shall set it down in her own words as best I can:

LANDLADY: Well, sir, this were the way of it. twas a dark December night, and I was busy in the pantry, panting. When alls of a sudden I ears a most terrible bangin at the side door, and in bursts Old Wilf. Now everyone knew Old Wilf. e was the local neer do well, poacher, and murderer. But, he never meant anyone any arm, two-thirds of the time. And now the poor soul was white as a sheet. I poured him a brandy and elped him to a chair. He drained the glass in one, but still he could not speak. I poured him another brandy and elped him to another chair, but still he could say nothing. Id run out of brandy by this time but, I helped him to three or four more chairs, and when at last his ead was bumping up against the ceiling, he managed to tell his story. And a more bloodcurdling tale o terror, I hopes I shall never live to see the like. This, is what he said: WILF: .I went for a walk. And I saw a ghost. Thats all he said, sir! And all he ever would say, so long as he lived. That he went for a walk, and saw a ghost. And so concluded the womans tale. And for my part, a most remarkable one I find it, involving as it does a man who went for a walk, and saw a ghost. Your affectionate nephew, Cyril. And that was the end of the letter. I put it back in my jacket pocket - jacket pocket, jacket pocket! - and never thought of it til now, when you, sir, reminded me of the curious tale of the man who went for a walk, and saw a ghost. said my new friend. So there you have it! Be you devout believer, or no less devout sceptic, from henceforth you must find some accommodation in your convictions for the fact that you once met a man, who met a man, who found a letter from a man, who stayed with a woman, who knew a man, who went for a walk, and saw a ghost! Although, there is a sequel to this tale. In point of fact I saw the same man again the next night. Ah. Im glad to catch you, he said. I looked at that letter again, you know, when I got home. There was a P.S. Id never noticed before. It read: CYRIL: P.S. As I was on my way to post this, my landlady stopped me in the hall and said: LANDLADY: Oh, sir, my husband says I got that story I told you last night wrong. According to him, old Wilf said: WILF: I went for a walk, and I saw a goat. he said. Sorry about that, sir, he saw a goat. she said. Sorry about that, Uncle, he saw a goat. it read. Sorry about that, old man, he saw a goat. he said. So there you are. Never think that we are alone, ladies and gentlemen, for tonight you have heard proof-positive that this world of ours is also walked by goats! ----------------------------Closing Credits----------------------------------------------------

Phew. You know, I've listened to every single word of this at least five times, some bits many more than that. Yet it still amuses me. Not sure if this is due to John Finnemore being a genius or me being easily amused - probably a bit of both. I have checked it several times, but there's still sure to be a couple of (hopefully minor) mistakes - so sorry in advance about those. I spent a long time thinking about how to do the last sketch, as it's just one man telling a story, but there's different characters and voices....Still not happy with what I've done, but hopefully it isn't too confusing...? Any character played by John who didn't have/need a name, I just called John Finnemore, so that's what the JFs stand for :) I'm kind of nervous about posting this, but I need to stop putting it off now and trust that you'll all be nice to me - you're all lovely people after all <3