Welcome To The Places Of My Life

Opening scene with Alan walking up a hill:

Alan: Hello, I’m Alan Partridge. And I’d like to tell you about a very special place. Whether you know it as “East Anglia”, “The Plump Peninsula”, “Home of the Broads”, although that sounds like a refuge for fallen prostitutes. “Albion’s Hind Quarters”, or quite simply “The Wales of the East”. This is Norfolk.

Alan (Voiceover): It’s been my home for the best part and best parts of my life, and I’d like to introduce it to you. And it to you. Over the next hour in a co-production with the Norwich Council of Traders, I’ll be going on a very emotional journey to discover who, why and what I am. A “Partridge Pilgrimage”, or a “Patrimage”, a “Pilgrimartridge”, a “Partrimilgrimage”.

Alan: Welcome, to the places of my life.

Alan is in the car on his way to work:

Alan (Voiceover): It’s 09:30 hours AM, and I’m on my way to work. One of the most important places of my life. You know it as “North Norfolk Digital”. North Norfolk’s best music mix.

Alan: When people ask me about my relationship with broadcasting, I give them a very simple answer. I say broadcasting doesn’t define who I am, nor does it not define who I am. Nor does it define who I’m not. And that seems to satisfy them.

Alan (Voiceover): Door to door with a fair wind, and provided I don’t need to stop for petrol or toilet, I can usually make it in under 10 minutes. Compare that to the long delays and cattle truck conditions of London’s public transport network and you may well find yourself laughing out loud.

Alan: I like to get to the station early. That way if any last minute events occur, I’m able to incorporate them into the show. (HONKS HORN, gets into an argument) Unbelievable. I’ve got right of way! There’s a “give way” sign there. Oh yeah? Well, what are you gonna do about it? I said, what are you gonna do about it? Yeah? Eff off. Eff off! Ridiculous. I mean, she shouldn’t really be riding a bike at her age.

Alan (Voiceover): This is my coalface. My canvas, my lathe. It’s funny to think that I see more of the inside of my radio studio than I do of my family, friends or any of the birds I’ve been out with. Many are surprised by how small the offices of North Norfolk Digital are. But at 800 square feet, they’re larger than a good quality dentist’s and could house a Tesco Express.

Alan: Alex?
Alex: Yeah?
Alan: Hinchcliffe Loft Conversions.
Alex: What about them?
Alan: Bumped into Chris Hinch last night at a social function, said he was v, v interested in sponsoring the weather or some such.
Alex: Do you want to tell Sally?
Alan: Got it.

Alan (to camera): We don’t really operate along strictly delineated lines here. We all muck in together, which I think is what gives us the edge over our competitors at Orbital Digital, who don’t even have a suggestion box, whereas ours is full by Thursday. So much so that there’s no room for any other suggestions. Not even “Can we have a bigger suggestion box.” Er… So we do encourage ideas from anyone, whatever their status. You know, “Can we have herbal as well as PG tea?” Yep. Er, “Shall we have a bi-weekly meeting, semi-social in which to pool ideas?” “Can people please stop using the word ‘obligate’ as a verb?” The noun is “obligation” and the verb is “to oblige.”

Alan (Voiceover): Sting has described my broadcasting style as conversational, but Ross Kemp nailed it when he said it was a equidistant between chit-chat and analysis.

Alan (to his listeners): If you joined us, we’re just talking about the word “obligate.” Not to repeat myself, similar to yesterday’s discussion about people mistakenly using the world “repulse” when they mean “repel.” If you find something compulsive, it compels. If something is propulsive, it propels. Ergo, if something is repulsive, it repels. It doesn’t repulse. This is Aimee Mann with her song “If God Was One Of Us,” with which she posits the notion of God being just an old man on the bus. Interesting thought, and anyone who is familiar with late-night public transport will realise that many of the old unfortunates do indeed bear a striking resemblance to a scruffy Christ.

Alan is at the leisure centre:

Alan (Voiceover): The next place of my life is Riverside Leisure Centre. It’s 2.2 miles from North Norfolk Digital and boasts a controversial swooped roof. The space I park in used to be for the disabled, but after lengthy discussions, I got them to rub out the wheelchair. A diet rich in Tracker bars and Olivio means that I’m able to lead the kind of physically active life that is simply out of reach for many men of my age, such as Eamonn Holmes.

Leisure Centre Attendant: Morning.
Alan: Gate.

Alan (Voiceover): I come for a swim here as often as I can. It’s a good way to relax, and if I come early enough, the water should still
be relatively clean. But no amount of chemicals can counter the chance that four children in 30 will piss in the pool, and one in 100 will go further. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll do breaststroke, imagining the water as the face of my late mother. If I’m in a bad mood, angry, or if I’ve let myself down at a social function, it’ll be butterfly, which can look stupid to people who know nothing about swimming.

Alan (to camera): Swimming pool hygiene has come on aeons since the 1970s when patrons were forced< to walk through the foot equivalent of a sheep dip. Suffice to say, I haven’t had a verruca since… (shot cuts in and out) ..for a decade.

Alan (Voiceover): My watch is waterproof.

Alan: Now, the swimming pool isn’t just a stop gap while the private gym you belong to is being renovated. It’s actually open to literally anyone who can cobble together the pretty meagre entrance fee. From thin bank managers to plump housewives who gather to float and chat. Now, I’m joined by Annabel Swanson. Or should I say Swanswim?


Anna: Hello.
Alan: We’re treading water in a swimming pool having a conversation. Why?
Anna: Well, Alan, I’m a hydrotherapist.
Alan: Which means water doctor. Carry on.
Anna: Yes, sort of. I help people to rehabilitate and to regain physical fitness.
Alan: So, could you swim a length under water?
Anna: Yeah.
Alan: Yeah, so could I. Now, tell me more about hydrotherapy.
Anna: Well, I suppose it first came into prominence in the early 19th century when it was known as water cure, or hydropathy.
Alan: Briefly I meant.
Anna: Oh, well, essentially it’s the same as physiotherapy, except the water offers more resistance while also cushioning the impact on the joints.
Alan: Right. Cos when you try and run in water, it takes ages. Sort of like running in slow motion, which is why many people when they’re under water pretend to be in space.
Anna: Yeah, sort of, because swimming is very good for fitness and tone, which is why professional swimmers seem to have that lean V-shaped torso.
Alan: Yeah. Sorry, I spat at you. Go on.
Anna: Which is why swimming might be perfect for you because it would give you the muscle tone that the water provides, as well as rapid rehabilitation.
Alan (struggling to keep afloat): I know. You’ve said that before.
Anna: Well, also with sports injuries – Are you alright?
Alan: Yeah, I’m absolutely fine.
Anna: …it reduces and alleviates pain.
Alan: Right.
Anna: And then also with surgery, and when you’re in the warmth and weightlessness of a swimming pool, it helps you recover rapidly. (ALAN SPLUTTERING OFF-CAMERA)
Alan: Now, have you ever had any famous patrons?
Anna: Yes, I’ve had a few.
Alan: But presumably if someone asked you to name them, you would say…
Anna: Erm, I don’t really want to name patients. (ALAN GRUNTS OFF-CAMERA)
Alan: Exactly, it’s patient confidentiality. Annabel Swanson, thanks very much.
Anna: Do you want to just hold on…
Alan: Yeah, where’s the side?

Alan gives a tour of Norwich City Hall:

Alan (Voiceover): If you like power, you’ll love Norwich City Hall. It’s from here that the regional administration runs our public services, and doles out cash to the needy and the greedy. The building was formally opened in 1938 by King George VI, the stammering monarch made famous by hit movie “The King’s Speech.” It’s ironic that his Majesty’s sub-standard oratory and crippling inability to make sense are mirrored today by the Labour councillors who control Norwich City Council. (STUTTERS) F-F-Fools. Dizzy.

Alan: These people may all look like retired pirates, but in actual fact, they’re former Lord Mayors of Norwich. Now, despite the Norfolk black-lack, we’re a pretty progressive bunch around here. Take our current Lord Mayor
for example. It may surprise you to learn that he is a woman. We’ve always believed in giving women a fair crack at the whip. Not literally. That would be a dominatrix, which we also have in Norwich. They are currently three of them. Yeah, about three.

A few years ago in this very building, councillors had to summon up every ounce of their political gumption to save a city that was on the verge of being rent asunder.


March 2006, and the council have proposed to extend city centre parking fees to beyond 7pm. Uproar. The councillors
hurtle through these corridors, the air thick with argument and counter-argument, hue and cry. Brouhaha. Some said, “It’s an essential revenue generator.” Others said “It’ll strangle trade!” The result… deadlock.

At that point, a rogue Lib-Dem proposed a compromise. “What if theatres were prepared to subsidise night-time parking, and those self same rates were suspended from Monday through Wednesday, resulting in a net gain for the city’s midweek economy?” “And a bloody, or at least irritable, clash could be averted.” (GRUNTS)

Gentlemen, do we have a deal? (SOUND OF CHEERING) Norwich awoke that morning to peace. But it’s incredible to think so few people know how close this city came to a blanket imposition of night-time parking fees. (CAMERA BLURS) Alright?

Alan: It’s a little known fact that had Hitler successfully invaded, he’d planned to make his victory speech from Norwich City Hall. It’s easy to see why. There’s a very imposing, brutal quality to the architecture that Hitler would have absolutely loved. (SIGHS) Well, it sends a chill down your spine, even factoring in the cold day. Just imagine. (RECORDING OF HITLER GIVING SPEECH IN GERMAN) (RECORDING OF CROWD CHEERING) Huh. Hmm. Hmm.

Alan (Voiceover): The more I learn about Hitler, the more I dislike him. He was mad.

Alan: Even the giant copper dogs that flank the entrance to City Hall seem to be giving some sort of canine Nazi salute. I… Because there are two of them. Can you see that? I recently lobbied the council to suggest that they changed the gesture to a thumbs-up. A double thumbs-up. Exactly what Norwich needs at the moment.

Alan (Voiceover): My next stopping point is just 50 yards away. Here in the shadow of the City Hall with its imposing balcony and large Nazi dogs, is Norwich market.

Alan is in the local market:

Alan: There’s been a market here since the 1100’s. At a pound a year, that would come in at just under a cool grand. And over all those centuries, very little has changed. Where once there were… (WOMAN WALKS IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA) (ALAN MUTTERS) Unbelievable. Where once there were bearskins and quivers, just substitute that for monkey hats and tat. But perhaps the darkest periodin its history came in 1349 when this exact area was visited by the plague. (SOUNDS OF GROANING) The Black Death was very much the HIV of its day. But rather than being transmitted through blood transfusions, sexual intercourse or heavy kissing, this plague was airborne. Let me put that in context for you. Flying AIDS. (TURNS TO BUTCHER) Two handfuls of sausage meat, please.

Alan (Voiceover): Today, though, the market is a magnet for tourists. Much improved from days gone by when I discovered a snithe Smurf stuffed with used bandages and a sock for a hat. As a tight-knit bunch, stall holders know anyone stupid enough to steal from them will be cornered by fellow traders even before they reach the market’s perimeter, and given an absolute pasting. For me, though, the real pleasure is walking around the food stalls. Free samples are designed to guilt trip you into a purchase, but hold your nerve and you can eat the equivalent of a three-course meal absolutely free. And there’s F-A they can do to stop you.

Alan: (CHUCKLES) This should be a lot of fun. I’m here with Mike Greatbatch, and Mike is gonna give me a chance to sell some fruit and veg.
Mike: If you think you’re up to it, Alan. (LAUGHS) It’s not as easy as it looks, you know.
Alan: Well, I think I might have the requisite skills.
Mike (to other traders): What do you reckon, lads? Do you reckon he’s up to it?
Traders: I don’t know about that.
Alan: Hey! You just keep an eye on managing your own stalls.
Mike (to customers): What do you reckon, ladies? Reckon he’s up to it?
Alan: Don’t ask them.
Mike: (LAUGHS) I don’t know.
Alan: Of course I am, it’s menial work.
Mike: So, all you’ve got to do, really, is just keep it friendly, chatty, light. A little bit cheeky is OK, they love all that. Bottom line, just be yourself.
Alan: Okey-doke.
Mike: Actually, thinking about it, probably best not to be yourself. (LAUGHTER)
Alan: Ah.

Alan (Voiceover): When I had a go at what he’d been doing for the last 25 years, it was one of easiest things I’ve ever done in my life.

Alan: Twizzle that. What can I get you, darling? Anything you fancy, sweet lips? There you go. You go careful now, my love. Alright, sugar tits?

Alan (Voiceover): By just being myself, I exchanged produce for cash time and again. I was particularly good at shifting
bananas, some of which were manky. But I liked Mike. In many ways, his larger-than-life personality reminded me of the village idiot of centuries gone by. He would have been well liked by the locals. The willing subject of their friendly banter. Gentle joshing. Could have been his name, actually. But there was also something about Mike on which I couldn’t put my finger. These stall holders with their fast and loose approach to grammar, in particular their cavalier use of apostrophes, were clearly people living on the very fringes of society. Without the market stall to occupy him, one shudders to think what sinister activities Mike would have been drawn to. Perhaps he’d be selling knock-off Teletubbies stuffed with old tampons.

Alan is in the newsagents:

Alan (Voiceover): As fun as it is to shop at the market, my statutory rights are important to me, so I like to do most of my shopping here, news and magazines.’

Alan: Atif! How are you diddling?
Atif: If you get Guardian, you get free bottle of water.
Alan: Yes, but you also get the Guardian. How’s things?

Alan (Voiceover): We chat about everything, from people to politics, from perishables to pornography. (CUTS TO ALAN TALKING TO ATIF) More specialist, you know, challenging, niche material at the top. (BACK TO THE VOICEOVER) I sometimes feel that I get more out of the conversation than he does. It’s been a tough ten years for Muslamic-Christian relations, but for me and Atif it’s never been a problem. The worst that happens is I get slightly overcharged for snacks and gum. And I think that speaks volumes for race relations.

Alan (to Atif): OK. Ta-ta.

Alan is out test driving a Range Rover with a car salesman:

Alan (Voiceover): I’m halfway through my Norfolk Odyssey, but if you’ve just joined us, it’ll still make sense. Kids like to go to the zoo, but the beasts I like to look at are made from zinc galvanised steel. They’re cars.

Alan: Good morning, computer. Can you synchronise the dual temperature controls? Computer, can you synchronise the dual temperature controls?
Range Rover Salesman: You know it’s not voice-activated?
Alan: Well, why did you let me say it twice?
Range Rover Salesman: I thought you were joking.
Alan: I was.
Range Rover Salesman: Twice.
Alan: Twice.

Alan (Voiceover): The next places of my life are Norfolk’s 20-plus car dealerships, and whether you buy British or you have a short memory and are happy to buy Japanese, there’s a car for everyone.

Range Rover Salesman: You’ve got options, so if you want to drive a fully automatic and let the car do the work, you can do that. If you prefer semi-automatic, knock that to the left. And then use the paddles either side of the steering wheel. Right-hand side, up, up, up. Left-hand side, down, down, down
Alan: It’s a paddle shift.
Range Rover Salesman: Like you can on a motorbike.
Alan: It’s a paddle shift. I was thinking of test-driving the turbo-diesel…
Range Rover Salesman: This is a turbo-diesel.
Alan: I know. Not let me finish. The turbo-diesel V8 in this model.
Range Rover Salesman: In the full-size Range Rover.
Alan: No, in the Range Rover Sport.
Range Rover Salesman: Yeah, the TDV8’s been discontinued in the Sport. You can still get it, but it’s only in the full-size Range Rover.
Alan: That’s annoying.
Range Rover Salesman: It’s funny how many people seem to assume that the TDV6 would lag behind the TDV8.
Alan: Is that funny?
Range Rover Salesman: When actually, the increased power output of the TG-
Alan: TG? TGV8?
Range Rover Salesman: TDV6.
Alan: TGV8. Now, that is funny. Sorry, you were saying.
Range Rover Salesman: The TDV6 has got increased power output which means that the difference between that and the TDV8 is negligible really.
Alan: Yeah, but the TDV6 doesn’t have the sound of the V8. (MAKES SOUND OF ENGINE ROARING)
Range Rover Salesman: Still, if you want to go off-road off course, that’s child’s play as well. Previous models would have had a differential lock. That’s all taken care of now. A thing of the past.
Alan: Well… still got a differential lock.
Range Rover Salesman: No, it’s automatic these days.
Alan: Well… But it’s still got a diff lock.
Range Rover Salesman: I’m saying that it doesn’t have the lever any more.
Alan: Yeah, well, it may not have the lever but it’s still got a differential lock. It’s just deployed electronically.
Range Rover Salesman: Whereas it used to be manual.
Alan: Yeah, manual or automatic, this car has got a differential lock.

Alan (Voiceover): I later discovered this car does not have a differential lock, but actually uses a traction control system where a spinning wheel is braked by an on-board computer, so effectively we were both right.

Range Rover Salesman: Still, there’s peace of mind in knowing that if you do want to go off-road, she won’t let you down.
Alan: He. I’m not driving a girl. (CHUCKLES)

Alan is visiting a church:

Alan (Voiceover): I’ve come here to St Michael’s in Sheringham a beautiful yet typical Proddy Gothic church. It was in this very church that a baby Alan Partridge was lowered into the font and christened. It’s always concerned me that fellow Christians subject their young to this gentle form of water boarding. But it’s one of God’s rules.

Alan: I’m joined by the Reverend Richard Hatcher. Reverend, there is the rather lazy stereotype of a graveyard as being somewhere that we’re familiar with from horror films, where a hand may emerge from a grave and grab the ankle of
an innocent student on holiday.

Reverend: Hmm. Graveyards have are places that are charged with meaning. I mean, I know your parents are both buried here.
Alan: Yeah. Well, they’d died, so… I buried them.
Reverend: So of course, their graves and all the graves here, they are symbols of… (REVEREND HAS A LONG PAUSE) …of a life lived.
Alan: Hmm.
Reverend: Erm… A collection of memories.
Alan: Yeah, yeah.
Reverend: Erm… And graves are keepers of stories untold.
Alan: Great name for an album. “Keepers of stories untold.” Can I ask you a question? If you were told quite forcefully to draw a soul, what form would it take, do you think? (QUIETER) Be a bit quicker. If you don’t speed it up then you’re fired.
Reverend: Well, the soul is inside us.
Alan: I always imagine a soul strangely to be like a badly poached egg. So that the yolk, the centre, is intact. But the albumen, the outer soul if you like, is long and stringy. Another way of looking at it is a very small ballerina  with a large lace cloak. Similar thing. Those are two good ones. Do you have any?
Reverend: I don’t know that it’s enormously helpful to dwell on the physical.
Alan: I agree, I don’t dwell on it. I just talk about it sometimes. Erm, but it is a lovely, very well maintained graveyard.
Reverend: Well, I think it’s important that we do keep it well maintained. I mean, of course, it’s important that the graveyard doesn’t become, erm…
Alan: Quicker, vicar.
Reverend: ..erm, some kind of shrine for people that have that… …passed on.
Alan: Yeah.(
Reverend: But at the same time, I think… (LONG PAUSE, THEN THE SCENE JUMPS)..I think a cemetery should be a place of (THE SCENE JUMPS) quiet reflection. You know, (THE SCENE JUMPS)away from all the hustle and bustle. (THE SCENE JUMPS) A haven of tranquillity.
Alan: (THE SCENE JUMPS) Thank you very much indeed.
Reverend: Thank you, Alan.
Alan (to camera crew): Can we tighten that up? Yeah. Where’s he gone? Where’s he going? What an odd man. Are we absolutely sure he’s the local vicar? He’s not going back to the vicarage, he’s just walking off.

Alan: They should really be in alphabetical order.
Alan (Voiceover): There’s just time for a quick look at my parents’ graves…
Alan: Found them!
Alan (Voiceover): …before I saddle up and hit the road.

Alan is having stroll in Thetford Forrest:

Alan: The word “great” has lost a lot of its meaning over the years which I think is rather sad. We use it to describe anything from a bowl of Frosties to the town of Yarmouth. But there was a time when the word “great” had real meaning. The Great Wall of China. Alexander the Great. The Great War. Great Yarmouth. But when I describe the Norfolk countryside as being the great outdoors, I’m being every bit as serious as the Pride of Britain awards.

Alan (Voiceover): With my working day over by 2pm, I’m free to enjoy some pleasing solitude in the Norfolk countryside. For some, Thetford Forest means dogging or suicide, but I’m old school and I’m off for a walk. Like my avian namesake, a partridge, I’m a non-migratory creature and can be found enjoying the British outdoors 24/7, 52/12/365.’

Alan: Found a golf ball. It’s been chewed by a fox. Must have thought it was an egg or something. When I’m walking in the countryside, I normally like to use a stick. But rather than buy one of those aluminium ones made in China by kids, I prefer a British one made in Britain by trees. Very simple really if you want a walking stick. You simply find somewhere like this. Simply snap away the excess branches. Very simple. And then that’s a bit too big. Makes me look like Moses. I don’t want that because I’m not Moses. So simply put it against a tree, I just basically jump against it like that. Absolutely fine. Falling over is fine. Now I’ve got a stick still a bit too long. Put it there again and just do one jump one more time. (GRUNTS) Too short. There. You can give that one to a child, just throw it away. This one, absolutely, absolutely perfect.

Alan: It’s out here in the countryside I come up with some of my best ideas. Over there beneath the lightning
tree, I was caught in a freak storm. Of course, I immediately lay down in the field to make sure I was not
the path of least resistance should lightning decide to strike. And it was there, whilst spread-eagled in the field beneath the rain, wet but warm and safe, that I came up with the idea of league tables for lollipop ladies. On further investigation, I was shocked to discover that anyone who’s not a registered sex offender can become a lollipop lady. Even men. The only people who should be able to command a vehicle to stop should be the army in times of national emergency and traffic lights. And yet we’re handing this power over to people who are little more than retired dinner ladies. It has to improve or stop.

Alan (Voiceover): I’ve been an admirer of trees all my life. As a boy, I used to walk up to a
simple field maple and look at it. Much like this child actor did to this substitute tree four weeks ago. (YOUNG ALAN PARTRIDGE SHOUTS A-HA!)

Alan: I love trees. And whilst I’m no tree hugger – I think that’s inappropriate. From time to time, I am tempted to pat one on the back. A tree doesn’t judge, doesn’t criticise your clothes or bring up poor viewing figures. If you politely refuse to sign an autograph for its sister in law who’s recovering from an operation, a tree won’t pull a face. A tree is like a kindly old uncle that seems to say, “Come, climb on me.” “Let me cradle you with one of my many arms.” “Yes, my hair may fall out every autumn, but it grows back in the spring.”

Alan: You’re not gonna believe this! There’s a tree up here that looks like a giant spider! (LAUGHS) You expect many things in the countryside, but one of the things you rarely expect is to have a good old laugh at giant trees.

Alan (Voiceover): After two hours yomping through the lush vegetation of central Norfolk, I’m physically exhausted. When I return to my car, I’ll sleep for 15 minutes before turning on the engine and driving home, where I’ll have another nap before feeding. Outstanding.

Alan is visiting a skiing centre:

Alan (Voiceover): You don’t need to have seen the first three-quarters of this programme to enjoy the last quarter of my Norfolk odyssey. To the untrained eye, the people of Norwich can seem a little aimless. But beneath the surface, the city is teeming with clubs and societies. I belong to one. If you think I play bridge with local widows, get ready to be shocked. I ski. And if you think living in England’s flattest county is going to stop me, you’re just bloody wrong.

Alan (OFF CAMERA): Did you get that?

Alan (Voiceover): Oh, and by the way, if you think I come here just for the skiing, you’re just bloody wrong. It’s about people. It’s always about people.

Woman: I don’t ski myself.
Alan: What are you doing here? Right, I’m off. Finish the two cheesy dippers, one each. See you around, guys.
Kid: Bye.
Woman: Bye-bye.
Alan (To Two Guys) Hey, alright?

Alan is heading into the radio station:

Alan (Voiceover): Another morning, another show, and a chance for me to use the comfortable kitchen and seating areas that North Norfolk Digital provide by law. It’s all pretty informal, which means it’s a good place to chill out and chat, or just chill out.

Alan: Morning. Hello.
Producer: Hi.
Alan: Hear the show yesterday?
Producer: Yeah.
Alan: Anything good?
Producer: Er… I liked the voice, the food processor bit.
Alan: Oh, yeah. That was funny, that. I was gonna rehearse it, and then I ran out of time and I thought just do it, go for it, see what happens. Que sera, sera, etcetera. I just came out with it. (MIMICS FOOD PROCESSOR WHIRRING) I’m a food processor.
Producer: Yeah, it worked well.
Alan: Oh. Anything else?
Producer: Er… Yeah, it was just a solid, good show. Yeah.
Alan: Excellent.
Producer: See you later, yeah? Good man.
Alan: Thank you.

Alan (To Camera): If you feel a producer isn’t particularly forthcoming, the explanation is frequently that there’s trouble at home. Erm, I remember when I was at North – at Radio Norwich actually, one of the producers particularly, incredibly reticent. It turned out he was being beaten at home by his mother. And this guy was in his thirties, so she must have been pretty hefty. Either that or she sneaked up on him unawares with a snooker ball in a sock. More likely an onion in… in a stocking. One of those orange fishnet stockings that onions wear. (SIGHS)

Alan is sitting in his car:

Alan: Interesting fact about Norfolk is it has more deciduous trees than any other county in Britain. Primarily because they’re on private estates, and if you were caught chopping one down a couple of hundred years ago, they would hang you from it. Presumably if you saw them coming, you’d have to chop like mad and the tree fell down before they could, erm… hang you. I suppose they’d just hang you from another tree, wouldn’t they? Oh, my God. It’s an old teacher of mine. I thought he was dead. Wow. Mr Crag. Called him Cragatoa, because of his temper. I’ll just be a second. (ALAN HEADS OVER THE ROAD, WHERE YOU SEE HIM APPROACHING A MAN IN A MOTORISED WHEELCHAIR. ALAN IS CLEARLY CONFRONTING HIM ABOUT HOW HE WAS TREATED WHEN HE WAS YOUNG).

Alan (Voiceover): I was pleased that a chance encounter with a former teacher allowed us both to catch up and clear the air. Old Cragatoa could be a bit of a bully, but he knew his onions chemistry wise. Without him, words like “magnesium alloy” or “copper sulphate” would be as meaningless to me as made-up ones, like “koolm” or “briest.”

Alan: He was a real c’nt.

Alan (Voiceover): Some people like to place cars in documentaries to try and get a free one, but I am genuinely just out for a test-drive.

Alan: I love this tan interior.
Range Rover Salesman: Yeah, it’s nice.
Alan: Like someone’s taken a bar of Caramac and melted it over the interior.
Range Rover Salesman: A big one.
Alan: Yeah, which is excellent. I’ve always liked the tan interior. It’s like sort of a girl in a bikini.
Range Rover Salesman: Sexy.
Alan: Sexy, yeah. As if the interior has been on holiday.
Range Rover Salesman: South of France or somewhere.
Alan: Yeah, or Corfu, guaranteed sunshine. She’s come back all sun-kissed. Or it’s mixed race. (PHONE RINGS) Hang on. Quickly, Lynn. Hang on a second. Can we take this car off-road?
Range Rover Salesman: We don’t really go off-road on test drives.
Alan: Call your boss.

Alan (to Lynn): Hello. What? That’s ridiculous. They can’t move it forward like that. Why are they doing that? Well, why didn’t you ask?
Range Rover Salesman: I’m doing a test drive with Alan Partridge…
Alan: Lynn, you’re my first line of defence. You just rolled over and let them tickle your belly.
Range Rover Salesman: Alan Partridge.
Alan: No, Lynn.
Range Rover Salesman: He’s a presenter on North Norfolk Digital.
Alan: Well, your problem is you want everyone to like you, even administrative staff.
Range Rover Salesman: Oh. We get the new demonstration on Monday.
Alan: Well, I don’t know what to –
Range Rover Salesman: Brilliant, yeah.
Alan: I don’t know what to do now, Lynn.
Range Rover Salesman: Good money, mate. Home run.
Alan: Don’t say that! I’m already worried as it is. Your bedside manner is atrocious. Don’t ever become a doctor. Not that you’re likely to. Six years of medical school would take you up to, I don’t know, 70 years old? Then the only person they’ll let you examine is yourself and God knows what you’ll find. (SIGHS) Erm, 3.30, alright. I’ll pop in myself tomorrow. I’m just test-driving the new Range Rover. No, it’s not a Freelander, Lynn.
Range Rover Salesman: Erm, yeah. He says it’s fine to go off-road.
Alan: I just want to go back to the dealership.
Range Rover Salesman: Really? I thought you were quite keen to…
Alan: I just want to drive on ordinary roads.

Alan is back in Thetford Forest:

Alan: I sometimes come here and find myself staring for what seems like ages. On one occasion, I thought at least an hour had passed. When I look down at my watch, it had only been 45 minutes. I like to come here sometimes and stand one side of the fence, and look at all those sheep on the other side of the fence. And I like to imagine each one of them as various people who wronged me in the past. Anne Robinson there grazing by that tree. That one over there, Andrew Marr. The Dimbleby brothers. They’re just various builders.

Alan is on his way to a hospital appointment, and is clearly worried:

Alan (Voiceover): I was born in the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in King’s Lynn, and so I often like to pay a visit to the similar but private hospital in Norwich to rub shoulders with top medical specialists, some of whom are British.

Alan: I was thinking about those TV commercials that were on about 40 years ago. Those ones for Pepsi and Coke. You know, can you tell the difference… between Pepsi and Coke? I… This morning, I just thought, who gives a shit? What a colossal waste of everyone’s time. I’ll just be… I’ll be a few minutes. (HEADS OFF INTO THE HOSPITAL)

Alan: (BACK FROM THE HOSPITAL, OBVIOUSLY HAD GOOD NEWS) Who wants a choc-ice? Catch. You can have that later.
Cameraman: Alright, thanks.
Alan: (GROANS) Do you know what? I’m starving. Absolutely famished.

Alan (Voiceover): As important as all these places are when I want to blow away the cobwebs or celebrate good news, there’s only one thing I like to do. (CUT TO SHOT OF ALAN OFF-ROADING) There are places that mean a lot to me, but none more so than my friend Peter’s field. A patch of prime off-road terrain that’s been vacant since his horses died in 2010. I bomb around it as often as car salesman allow. With Peter’s permission, I might add, unlike the driver in 2010. Those are the places of my life. They’re who I am. Without them, I’d be a turtle with no shell. A songbird with no voice. A partridge with no Alan. Goodbye.

The Range Rover salesman drops Alan off at home:

Alan: Oh. Whoa. Oh, oh. (GROANS)
Range Rover Salesman: You dropped off. You dropped off there.
Alan: Dropped off. Sorry.