Cast: Steve Coogan (Alan Partridge), Phil Cornwell (Dave Clifton), Steve Brody (Piet Morant), Amelia Bullmore (Sonja), Simon Greenall (Michael), Felicity Montagu (Lynn Benfield), Tim Dantay (John), Simon Ludders (Carl), Peter Baynham (Security Guard Voice)
Synopsis: Michael is staying at Alan’s house, while his front door that was stolen, is being replaced. Alan is asked to host the Dante’s of Reading fireplace conference at Choristers, and is paid a visit by Piet Morant, their South African representative. Alan’s attempts at South African accents don’t go down too well, but it is too late for Piet to get anybody ele to do the conference, handing the gig to Alan. Alan’s vision for the conference is a condensed Pink Floyd concert for £500, and sets Lynn the task of gathering the pyrotechnics. On the day of the conference, Alan turns up at Choristers without his security guard. However, having made a complaint about one of the security guards, the guard refuses to let Alan past the gates. In an attempt to bypass security, Alan climbs over the spiked fence, only to pierce his foot on a spike. Undetered, Alan puts on a brave face and presents at the conference, vomiting and wreching all the way through it. Eventually, Alan has his foot treated at hospital and under the influence of morphine, invites Michael in for some Sugar Puffs.
Opening Credits Quote: How can you set fire to your hands?
Alan is in the Radio Norwich studio, presenting the evening show:
Alan: That was Roxanne, by the Police or as they’re now known, Sting. A song there about a prostitute. Doesn’t say what her surname is. Must give her a call sometime. Although the effects of 23 years on the game, would not render her pleasurable to mine eye. Just time for one quick funny story before the news. On line four we have Roy from Bungay. Hello, Roy.
Alan: Funny story, what is it?
Roy: I sold this Makita cordless power drill in the local paper. And then six months later, I received the very same one back as a Christmas present from my brother-in-law, minus the power pack.
Alan: I see. So the present you gave away, you then got back?
Roy: Yeah, that’s it. Goodbye.
Alan: What a funny story. That was a funny story. I wonder who got the power pack. News.
Alan is in his half built house, talking to the builders:
Alan to Carl: I’m in a good mood today, because I’ve just found out my wife has been struck off my life insurance. Spice World! Are you married?
Alan: Divorced. I’ve got access to the kids but they don’t want to see me.
Alan to John: Hello, John.
John: Al. We’ve concreted the floor.
Alan: No bodies underneath there, I hope!
Alan: I’m just joshing with you, you know. Have you put t’corpse under t’patio? I expect you get that all the time.
John: Not really.
Alan: Eeh! ‘Appen he thinks I’m a right indecisive tit.
Carl: I don’t think he likes it when you do that accent.
Alan: Well… I’ll stop then.
Carl: Can you not put your foot on…
Alan: I wasn’t going to I was just going to do a cockney walk.
Alan: Actually, I’ve got some good news. Because I’ve just come into a rrrrather substantial amount of money. I’m going to host a sales conference for Dante’s of Reading, the Ferrari of the coal-effect gas fireplace industry. And if this job comes off, then as regards decision making I think we’ll be in a “can-do, go” sid-uation. I won’t bore you with the details…
Michael: Right! Hands of your cocks and on with your socks!
Alan: It’s all right Lynn, it’s just an army saying. Give us another one Michael.
Michael: Kill! Kill! Stab! Twist! Kill!
Alan: Michael’s going to be staying here for a bit, till they put his front door back on. Welcome aboard the good ship… My house.
Lynn to Alan: Do you want to tell Michael there’s no smoking in the house.
Alan to Michael: There’s actually no smoking in the house.
Michael to Alan: Do you want to tell here who’s hoose it is?
Alan to Lynn: It’s my house.
Michael to Lynn: If you’ve got owt to say, you can say it to me face.
Lynn to Michael: It’s a matter of hygene.
Alan to both of them: Whoa! Hey! Back off, seconds out, round one, ding-ding!
Alan to Lynn: I’d never let that happen. He’d batter you.
Alan: Mary Poppins! What’s that?
Michael: Oh that? That’s me bike. That’s Desert Storm.
Alan: The Iraqis must have been petrified when they seen that coming over the horizon. Especially if it had one of those cigarette cards in the spokes, so it went “Ffffff”. Aaaggggh!
Alan invites Lynn and Michael into the static home to bury the hatchet over a machine coffee:
Alan: Lynn, I need to speak to you about something. Sonja has made me this. It’s a mug with my face on one side, and a cat on the other.
Lynn: What does it mean?
Alan: I don’t know, I’ve no idea. And I think she’s planning something much worse. She’s talking about seeling this stuff down at the covered market.
Lynn: That’s terrible.
Alan: It’s a disaster! I don’t want my face on this! I might put it on a jar of pasta. Did you hear back from Dolmio about my pasta gravy sauce?
Alan: Let it go.
Michael: Hey, do you fancy a cup of delicious microwavable soup?
Alan: Yeah, just pop it in the microwave. Hey, Michael, can you imagine if they had microwaves in medieval times? Imagine a giant microwave and you can just pop a witch in it. Horrific!
Michael: If she bursts, she’s innocent.
Alan: Yeah. And if she comes out looking normal, but cold on the outside and hot in the middle, she’s a witch.
Michael: Have to remember to take the foil off first.
Alan: No that’s just pies.
Lynn: Do you mind me watching Poirot on UKGOLD?
Alan: No, no, no, as long as you pop the earphones on. Oh, you have.
Alan to Michael: Look at her, dead to the world. She’s sitting in the exact spot where me and Sonja ‘have it off.
Michael: So are you still doing it twice a day?
Alan: Yeah, you know, diary permitting.
Michael: Careful you don’t give yourself a heart attack.
Alan: No, it’s actually quite for you. It’s cardiovascular exercise, because if you think about it, it’s like press ups isn’t it?
Michael [Simulating having sex]: I suppose yeah. Because you are sort of working the main major muscle groups, like.
Alan: That is a woman?
Michael: Aye, its long hair.
Alan: Could be Brian May. That’s not his cup of tea. That’s the other one. God rest his soul.
Alan: Actually, I’ve got a book signing to do later, I’ve got to pop up to Choristers and get the PA. If they haven’t lost it, the security is terrible. Probably even let someone like you in.
Michael: That’s ridiculous!
Alan: I know! And the person who stole your front door!
Alan goes back to the house where Sonja is talking to the builders, holding two cushions with her and Alans face printed on:
Sonja: You just take normal photograph into Snappy Snaps. And he put photo on cushion! This cushion is called scatter cushion. It’s brilliant. I call it the scatter love cushion. Because it represents my love for Alan.
Carl: You can sit on his face!
Sonja: What do you mean?
Carl: Sit on Alan’s face. You know, it’s a joke.
Sonja: It’s a very filthy joke [Attacking the builders with the cushions] An Alan is hitting you! And I’m hitting you!
Alan: Whoa, whoa, whoa! That’s English for stop a horse!
Sonja: He is being very disgusting.
Alan: What did he say?
Sonja: He say I sit on your face.
Alan to builders: Have you been spying on us?
Alan: Sonja, I’ll handle this. Go and sit in the static home.
Alan to builders: Sorry about that.
Alan is at Choristers to pick up the PA:
Alan into intercom: Hello, I’m a communist with a gun. I hate you lot. I’ve just thrown the Royal family out of a plane. Can I use your toilet? [Gate opens] Utter, utter, nutters!
Alan is at Norwich train station, plugging his book:
Alan over PA: Hello commuters, with your computers! This book would fit, ideally, into an attaché case or the thigh pocket of a pair of fashionable combat trousers. Not like those massive Stephen King books. They should be on wheels, shouldn’t they? Embarrassing. Idiot!
For £10 you get a very good book, and a free torch, a Danko Night Stick as used in futuristic series “The X Files”, there’s a demonstration model tied to the chair, with a skipping rope, by that woman.
Alan to commuter: What is it you want? Train for Lowestoft is on platform four, it leaves in five minutes so you better learn to jog again, quickly. Seriously, run. You will miss it.
Alan over PA: This book is a top business aide. As I’m sure you are sir. Look at that. Not even listening. Off to London, no doubt. Go to London, I guarantee you’ll either be mugged or not appreciated. Catch the train to London. Stopping at: Rejection. Disappointment. Back-stabbing Central and Shattered Dreams Parkway.
Lynn: Alan! Alan! There! It’s Piet Morant from Dante Fires! He’s just got off the train.
Alan: He can’t see me.
Lynn: Why not?
Alan: To the untrained eye, this could look like it’s rubbish and I haven’t bounced back.
Lynn: But you have!
Alan: I know! Point him out to me.
Lynn: He’s got a beard.
Alan takes Piet to Choristers for a meeting:
Alan: Sorry about the smell of urine, but there really is nothing to do around here. With Apache, it is a one-stop shop.
Alan: What part of Birmingham are you from?
Piet: No, Alan. I’m actually from South Africa.
Alan: Oh, yes of course. I should have gissed!
Alan into Security Intercom: Hello, security? I am an arsonist, with a big box of matches. Please, can I come in to set fire to the staff? [Gate opens] Unbelievable.
Alan: It’s ridiculous, they know who I am. But you could be a sex offender. All right, you’ve come to use the excellent facilities, but you’re still a sex offender.
Piet: But I’m not a sex offender.
Alan: It’s all right, they wont ask you about it.
Piet: But I’m not a sex offender!
Alan: Great! That’s something we’ve got in common. The security is terrible here. I actually booked the room under the name of “The Real IRA”. They didn’t bat an eyelid. I’ll just go and tell them it’s me.
Alan: We’ve got to get out of here!
Piet: What’s the problem?
Alan: Crossed wires.
Piet: Well, shall we go to Apache?
Alan: What, my house? There’s no electricity.
Piet: Well, you know. I’d just like to see the setup.
Alan: Yes, we’ll go straight to Apache, after a pub lunch. For an hour.
Alan takes Piet to his house to conduct the meeting:
Piet: Alan, theres some really nice houses around here.
Alan: Yeah. Actually, sorry it’s a bit of a building site. Technically you should have a hat hard-on. What am I saying? I mean a hat hard-on. I’ve done it again! Come in.
Michael: Hello. How-do-you-do? How nice to-meet-you.
Piet: How do you do.
Alan: This is Michael.
Piet: That’s a very unusual accent you’ve got there. Where are you from?
Michael: I’m originally from Newcastle, like!
Alan: Michael’s in charge of our internet computer.
Michael: Aye. There’s nee porn no it!
Alan to Piet: Did you understand that?
Alan: Good. This is Lynn. Close your mouth, Lynn.
Piet: So, this is Apache Communications.
Alan: Yeah. We normally have three clocks on the wall, there. Telling the time in London, Paris and Dublin. Which is the same as London, but I do think sometimes you need to be reminded of that.
Piet: I’m dying to hear your ideas for the fireplace conference, Alan.
Alan: Grab a sofa!
Piet: Just over here?
Alan: Sure, yeah. Let me tell you about the setup here. You cant use the toilet, because it’s blocked. Yeah, you see. At Apache, Waaaaay! Sorry, this is a new table, it’s not quite finished. Want to pop this on? Oh no, it’s hiding a handle. Piece of fruit?
Piet: No, thanks. No.
Alan: Did you see that?
Alan: I think the designer has gone for that “toilet door balanced on a Black & Decker Workmate” effect.
Piet: Alan, I can’t see you.
Alan: That’s fine. No problem. I’ll just hop up here.
Piet: That caravan there, who’s is it?
Alan: The builders live in there. Lynn sometimes goes in there. I don’t think there is anything going on. I told her I disapprove of workplace relationships. But, shit happens! [Alan falls of the sofa] You’ve got to laugh when you fall off a sofa! Bloody sofa! [Sticks two fingers up to the sofa]
Alan: Shall we put the lights on, or shall we wait fifteen minutes?
Piet: Never mind that, Alan. All I want to know is, can you give us a pyrotechnics and light show?
Alan: Absolutely. We can do you pyrotechnics! But I recommend you start with a couple of humourous comments. Couple of jokes, perhaps.
Piet: We don’t want a clown, Alan.
Alan: Oh god no. You don’t want a clown. They’d never get to the podium with those long shoes on. Actually, how do clowns go down in South Africa? Because, with all that make up on, they’re neither one thing or the other. Are the allowed on buses?
Piet: Look, Alan. No clowns, no gags.
Alan: Just a couple of jokes?
Piet: No, Alan. No.
Piet: No, you cant!
Alan: Well there’s no need for that! I only want to do a couple of jokes.
Piet: You can’t!
Alan: You’ve done it again! You’ve said it again! Just because I’ve got a shit table? What do you want?
Piet: I want you to turn the lights on.
Alan: Good call. Michael?
Alan: Oh, you’re there. Shall we pop the lights on?
Michael: Mind your heeds! Coming doon!
Alan: Yeah. Now, it does look to me like torches attached to bicycle wheel. Probably designed by the same person who did the table. I like South Africa. And I hated those people who wouldn’t trade with you in the 80’s. I carried on buying your tomatoes all through that period. You say tomato, I say tom-ay-to. You say [South African accent] to-mar-toe! I say potato, you say [South African accent] po-tay-toe! Let’s call the whole thing a thoroughly nice chap, and doesn’t matter what race he is. Lynn?!
Alan: Oh you’re there. I don’t think this is quite bright enough. I think we are going to have to “Go Nuclear”.
Piet: Look, Alan. It’s too late to cancel. I’m sorry.
Alan: It’s easily done. If you’re going to be angry, you don’t mind being angry down the centre of the table. When this meeting is over, I’m taking this table back. It’s bloody useless.
Alan shouting to Lynn[Car hazard lighst start flashing through the window]: You’ve hit the hazards!
Alan: If I’ve said full beam once, I must have said it a dozen times. Level with me Piet. Have I got this job?
Piet: Given that it’s too late to book anyone else, the answer has to be, yes.
Alan: Jack-a-nack-a-nory! [Headlights come on] Ah, that’s better. [South African accent] Full beam!
Alan is in the caravan with Sonja:
Alan on the phone: For the conference, I’d like four glitter explosions. Twelve puff flashes. So the sequence should be puff, flash, puff, flash, bang. Well basically, can I have a condensed Pink Floyd concert for £500? Ok, thanks, Lynn!
Sonja: You want to eat?
Alan: What have we got?
Sonja: We got eggs, we got chicken.
Alan: Which came first!
Sonja: Well, I just buy the chicken on Thursday.
Alan: Chicken’s fine.
Sonja: It’s empty.
Alan: What do you mean?
Sonja: The chicken is empty.
Alan: What do you mean the chicken is empty, do you mean it’s hollow?
Sonja: No, where is the chicken inside the chicken?
Alan: You didn’t buy a display model, did you?
Sonja: The insides.
Alan: Oh, the giblets?
Sonja: Yeah, giblets. Yes, where is that?
Alan: But that’s awful.
Sonja: I like them!
Alan: You might eat them in your country, sweetheart. But we don’t here. I don’t want to eat an intestine, or a chicken heart on a mini muffin! It’s like some sort of voodoo canope!
Sonja: You want to make love? The bed’s ready.
Alan: Nar, I’m fine thanks. Just go and check on Michael.
Sonja: Ok. Alan, I love you.
Alan: Thanks a lot!
Alan goes into the house to check on Michael:
Alan: Hello, Michael. Do you want to be on your own?
Michael: Oh, no. Fine, it’s nice. Have a bit of company, you know. Keep the demons at bay.
Alan: I was just thinking, actually. Could you imagine if we were the last two peole on earth, camped out up here?
Michael: Oh, aye! We’d have to breed!
Alan: Yeah. I think I’d prefer to adopt. Men can these days.
Michael: I’d adopt a greyhound. Coz the last one I had was right clever you know.
Alan: Yeah, if they were that clever they would know that thing that they chase after, isn’t a rabbit.
Michael: Mind you, you know, if this fireplace conference gans well you could get yourself a helicopter.
Alan: Yeah, I’d love to fly a helicopter. There’s no doubt about it, Michael, the world’s getting smaller.
Michael: Aye, that’s global warming.
Alan: No, that’s something different. I’d just like to fly a helicopter all around Norfolk. You know, swoop down over a field. Scare a donkey so that it falls into a river. Hover over one of those annoying families that go on holidays on bikes. And shout at them “get out of the area!” and watch them panic!
Michael: Me, I’d have an Apache attack helicopter.
Alan: Oh, great.
Michael: I’d gan back to school. First I’d take out the labs. And then I’d type into the attck computer “Mr Cragg, chemistry teacher”, blow him to bits!
Alan: Yeah, I know the feeling.
Michael: Then I’d gan looking for Tom Donaldson.. I’d be hovering, just doon the road from his hoose, there. And he’s see us, but I’d duck down behind the trees. And he’s thinks he’s safe, right. And he’s just about to put his key in the front door, and I’d come up from behind the hedge “Hello, you bastard!”. He panics, right. And he gans in the hoose. So I get the 30mm canon, and I take out the fish pond. Koi carp in there, £20 each, right. And then, I’ll just tilt the helicopter over to one side, and the machine gun bullets are chewing up the drive, right. He comes oot “Oh no! not me Triumph Stag, I’ve just had it resprayed!”. I cut it right in half, right. And then he gans “Aaarrgh!”, and he runs up on the garage roof. I say “Right, this if for you, Tom” he goes “No, no!”. He’s beggin us, he’s begging us, man. “No! Please! Don’t!”. And then I fly off to Cornwall, and just smash into the sea in a big ball of flames.
Alan: Sleep well, Michael! Who’s Tom Donaldson?
Michael: Oh, he’s just a mate.
Alan is at Choristers, he’s forgotton his security card:
Alan into Security Intercom: Hello, I’ve just swallowed a load of anthrax, and I’d like to let-off like mad in the club bar, can I come in. [No reponse] You haven’t opened the gate, well done. Now, I’ve just remembered, I’ve forgotten my card. I was showing it to a Geordie last night, he asked to hold it, and I’ve gone and left it in his bloody hands! [No response] Hello?
Security Guard: Hello?
Alan: Right. I think, what’s happened here is I made a complaint about you, and you’re pursuing a vendetta. Which, I can understand. [No response] Hello?
Security Guard: Hello?
Alan: Right. You do know who I am?
Security Guard: No.
Alan: I’ve got it. There’s a complimentary copy of my book “Bouncing Back” behind reception, can you see it?
Security Guard: Yeah.
Alan: Right, great. Well, I’ll replicate the cover stance.
Security Guard: Ok, go on then. [Alan, replicates the cover stance]
Receptionist: Hello, can I help you?
Alan: Yeah, is Shaun there?
Receptionist: No, he’s just knocked-off for the evening. Can I help you?
Alan: No, no. It’s fine. Thank you. [Alan tries to climb over the fence]
Lynn: Alan, what are you doing?
Alan: Climbing over a fence.
Lynn: You should watch yourself, you’re nearly fif…
Alan: Were you going to say I was nearly fifty, Lynn? I might be nearly fifty, Lynn, but at least I… Eeeeeeegh!
Alan: Lynn, I’ve pierced my foot on a spike! It ruddy hurts like mad!
Lynn: Get yourself into the recovery position.
Alan: You’re just quoting bits of “Casualty” now.
Lynn: Pull it off, all at once.
Alan: Then all the blood will run out of the hole in my foot.
Lynn: Pull your foot off, now.
Alan: What, and leave it on the spike?
Lynn: Well, pull it off the spike. After three.
Alan: No, I’m not going to do it, Lynn. You pull your foot off.
Lynn: Well, mine’s not on the spike.
Alan: There’s someone coming, be normal, be normal.
Alan to Conference Attendee: Hello, Dante Fires, just through there. Ooooooh, you’re gonna have a good time! Just being a bit camp.
Alan and Lynn are now inside Chorister, preparing for the conference:
Alan: I feel the blood squelching in my shoe. Can you hear it squelching? Listen. Just listen, listen. Argh!
Lynn: Oh, look at you, Alan. You should be in hospital.
Alan: Lynn, some of these people have come from Stoke! I’m going on.
Lynn: Shall I go on for you?
Alan: Lynn, you couldn’t present a cat!
Alan is presenting at the conference:
Alan: A-ha-aarrgh! What a year it’s been for Dante. Fires. Maybe you’re here tonight with a wife, or an old flame. But what is, the burning issue? Hit your targets or you’ll be, fired. But today is also about fun. Have you all got your fun packs? I’ve got one here. I’ve dropped it. I’ve got a list, here. It should contain a torch, a Curly Wurly, a book of stamps, a free digital watch with denim strap, a vodka miniature, a BIC-style razor, a copy of the Daily Express… ooooh, it’s a good paper.
First award tonight, is for the best, Christ. Not Christ. Sorry, I keep saying Christ. I know some of you may be religious. And to those people, I apolo… [starts vomiting, hits the glitter explosion button] I was supposed to hit that later. Just wait for it to finish. A glittering year ahead. You might want to read your Daily Express. [Torch shines in Alan’s face] Don’t shine that torch in my face, mate. I’ve just lost a pint of blood.
On, now. As we look back at a fantastic year for direct ven… I’m going to be sick again [starts vomiting, then wreching] You know that feeling when there is nothing coming up? [more wreching] August bucked the trend for downturn in fireplace sales [more wreching] Ah, I sound like the devil. Foot’s come out my shoe. That’s not going back in, again. Do you want some more glitter? [another glitter explosion] Two grand, that cost. I was going to give out some awards, but that’s not going to happen. I mean, look at me. Go and eat some coffee, drink it. It’s soup you can eat. Lots of liquid.
Alan is back home with Michael, outside the static home, blindfolded:
Alan: Are we nearly there?
Michael: Move forward. Keep moving, you’re going in the right direction. That’s it.
Alan: Michael, I’m not the Vietnam! I’m going to take this off.
Michael: No! Leave it. Leave it for a minute.
Alan: Michael, this doesn’t feel like a treat.
Michael: Alright, that way. Take it off, now! There, look. I’ve made you a helicopter landing pad!
Alan: It’s a small H.
Michael: No, man. It’s big, look. You can see that from space, man.
Alan: Michael, I don’t want aliens to see this from space. It will be embarrassing. They would look down through their giant telescope and say “look at that idiot, he’s got a baby H”.
Michael: I done it, just to cheer you up, like. You know, because, the fireplace job was knackered. Apache productions is probably gonna goon down the pan, like all the other companies that you’ve started.
Alan: Michael, that may wery very well be the case. But I am happy. Now, that may very wery well be because I’m on morphine.
Michael: Morphine? Oh, man. They should have put an M on your foreheed.
Michael: That’s what you dee with battlefield casualties. You know, you put an M on their foreheed. So that the doctors know they’ve had morphine, it’s dangerous.
Alan: It’s not so a little helicopter can land on your forehead?
Michael: No, helicopter doesn’t begin with M, does it?
Alan: I’d like that though! I’d like that. Little helicopter landing on your head, rotor blades would cool you down like a little hand fan. On your forehead.
Michael: Come on, you’ve definitely had morphine, haven’t you.
Alan: Yeah. Do you want some Sugar Puffs?
Michael: Aye, that’d be nice. We’ll have Suagr Puffs.
Alan: Ah, still thinking about the helicopters. The little helicopters. Like the beginning of MASH. That begins with an M.