Original subtitles

This programme contains some strong language and adult humour

Can you hear anything? Just humming. Anything now?

Yeah, I can hear perfectly well from THIS ear.

Why did you have to dive off the top board? I've got a little bit of

water trapped in a kink of this canal.

Then swap sides so you can hear Jennie.

Your eyes go to the left.

That's why the man sits there. It's higher status.

It's the one thing the #metoo brigade

haven't cottoned onto yet. Diving at your age.

You're not a spring chicken

you're barely a summer chicken.

I can lip-read, Lynn. You just said I was a summer chicken.

At least I'm not a winter hen, who's no longer laying.

I take that back.

I think you would've had a very interesting take on motherhood.

You've had bad breath for five years.

And we're on in five... And it's your job to keep on top of that...!

Hello. And welcome to This Time, with Alan Partridge.

And Jennie Gresham. Bit loud.

Pardon? Nothing, it's...

...quite loud. Now, have we got a show...

We certainly do. ...for you.

Yesterday we told you the story of Greenpeace,

while tomorrow we meet yachtswoman Ellen MacArthur.

One saves... The other waves the sails.

Sorry, I think you forgot to say saves the whales.

Oh, I tried. Pardon?

I think they got it.

There's a shoe in the gantry.

But in today's show... Ah, good, it's wept.

It's just a bit of ear widdle.

...we go up, up and away in the most celebrated name in British

aviation—Spitfire.

But first, an almighty row is emanating from the sleepy

county of Norfolk.

The issue? The Norwich Western Link,

a new road, dividing the county in more ways than one.

Let's take a look.

And we're off. 60 seconds.

Can I get this shirt dried, please?

How did you get water in your ear?

I was diving off the top board,

and on the way down I saw a couple petting.

I must've turned to rebuke them and...

...landed on my ear, got some swimming pool in it.

I remember getting told off at the swimming pool for petting.

I know. The things we do as teenagers, eh?

No. This was about six months ago.

Oh.

I'm going swimming this weekend, if you fancy it?

I can't, I'm going to a summer cottage in Cornwall this weekend.

Oh, I'll come there instead, then.

You want to? Yeah, I do. Great, OK.

And we're back in five, four...

A county rent asunder by a big road.

To tell us more, we're about to be joined by Ruth Duggan

in my hometown of Norwich.

Where, of course, you are the Norwich car ambassador.

Well, a car laureate.

Yeah, I just do what I can to encourage people to make

a journey, wherever possible, by car.

And, yeah, do what I can to promote car use

and car ownership throughout the county.

Well, that's very public spirited.

Yeah, and of course I get a heavy discount on any

vehicle from the Vauxhall range.

And you'll therefore probably know all about this new road.

Oh, no, no, that's Ruth, she's the expert, not me.

Besides, we have got lots of comments

from our viewers to get through. We do.

Ruth, it's a project prompting fierce debate, isn't it?

That's right, Jennie.

A dual carriageway linking the east and west of Norfolk is

opposed by environmentalists but enjoys public support.

Freda, who is 80, says,

"Any carriageway slashing journey

"times in half has to be a boon for the local economy."

And she's absolutely right.

There would be an undoubted economic benefit.

Even though it'll create an extra 25,000 tonnes of carbon emissions.

Carbon dioxide emissions. Apologies.

That should've been clearer.

But that figure is in dispute.

Sam, who's nine, says,

"With reduced congestion in the city centre, emissions will be lower.

"That stands to reason." He's right.

Urban emissions will fall.

Clever lad. Apparently, the protestors have produced

their own environmental report. Ecological report.

My mistake. Which...

It concludes that the project is simply not viable.

Well, not feasible, rather than not viable.

Forgive me.

But with a public inquiry ruling in favour of the government,

opponents of the project have,

according to Paul from Yarmouth,

"Finally run out of road."

Very good, but he's absolutely right.

It leaves protestors with little legal recourse.

Mm-hm. Well, once it's completed,

the Norfolk Broads look set to be busier than the Norfolk B roads.

That works a lot better in print, I have to say.

Actually, Alan, even with the new road, the B roads will see far

more traffic than the Broads.

Indeed they will.

Well, we'll have to leave it there.

Just as well.

I was getting everything wrong there, Ruth.

Oh, wait.

I don't believe this.

I thought these were my notes.

I must've switched clipboards with you, by mistake.

Yeah, sorry, it turns out I was reading out viewers' opinions,

which as you said, Ruth, were wide of the mark,

and Jennie was reading my notes which,

according to you, were correct.

So, you and me are in agreement.

Shouldn't that be you and I?

I'll give you that one, Ruth.

I'm happy to because, of course, the others, where we

totally agree, massively outweigh it. I enjoyed that.

Now, what did Jesus really look like?

While mainstream Christianity depicts him as a white man,

most historians agree he was Middle Eastern.

But not all.

Some say he hailed from Africa and was a person, or Christ, of colour.

And one amateur historian is convinced the son of God

came from Ireland.

Jennie headed to the Emerald Isle to meet

the man in search of a Celtic Christ.

And we're off.

What's the best thing that could ever happen to you?

Well, that's easy.

The hair on my legs to grow back,

to meet Her Royal Highness Princess Anne the Princess Royal,

and to win a race.

Oh, my God, Lynn, it's the second one.

Princess Anne said yes.

She's 14th in line to the throne.

You're going to interview Princess Anne next week on the show.

And what's more, Jennie isn't.

What's it feel like?

What does it feel like?

Well, for you it would be,

imagine you're lying sideways on your sofa

with your Scholl's kicked off,

about to watch a box set of Judge John Deed,

with loads of that dry cake you love.

Now, times that by ten.

How does that feel?

Oh...

This will secure your legacy.

Imagine the look on Huw Edwards' face

when he hears I'm interviewing Princess Anne.

Imagine the look on Lorraine Kelly's face

when she hears I'm interviewing Princess Anne.

Imagine... Imagine...

W-Who else can we imagine the look on the face of, Lynn?

Quickly, quickly. Noel Edmonds.

Yes! Imagine the look on Noel Edmonds' face

when he hears I'm interviewing Princess Anne.

I know, he's always... No, no, no, actually imagine it, Lynn.

I think he might puke.

Positions, please.

And we're back in five, four...

Now, I find the idea of women flying planes appalling.

They're fine in the kitchen, but you wouldn't want one in the cockpit.

Don't worry, those aren't Jennie's views.

She's not Ann Widdecombe.

They're the views of readers of Aeroplane Magazine,

when RAF women pilots were first mooted back in 1939.

Yet, despite much opposition, women DID take to the skies.

We sent Alan to find out about this brave band of daring women

who helped us win the war.

Although not in combat roles.

Quiz!

One of these people spent World War II sewing uniforms,

the other flying Spitfires.

So, which was which? The answer will surprise you.

The seamstress?

This man, who got into sewing rather than fighting,

because he was severely mollycoddled by his mother,

and, sadly, the poor chap ended up as a softie.

The Spitfire pilot?

A woman—Eleanor Hartley, who defied convention to help transport

military aircraft to wherever it was needed.

Because it's an irrefutable fact that without the role

played by women in almost every sphere in both civil and military

life, the Second World War would've been slightly harder to win.

Today, Eleanor is 94 and has very kindly agreed to join us

hear at Goodwood Aerodrome,

to return to the wonderful machines that she once flew.

Eleanor, thank you so much for joining us.

It's lovely to be here today...

A wonderful, wonderful woman,

to whom we all owe an enormous debt of gratitude.

In the end, though, her interview was largely unusable.

Heavy frost this morning. Mm-hm.

To learn more, I spoke to a man much better versed in Spitfire history.

Good morning. My name's Alan. Roger. And your name?

Roger. Oh, sorry. I thought you were agreeing with me.

No, just telling you my name. Oh, I see. Well, I'm Alan Partridge.

Roger that. Right. And your full name?

That.

Is your name...? Don't say anything.

Is your name Roger That?

It turns out the airman, a bit of a character with

a love of wordplay, is actually called Paul Wheeler,

but he pretends to be called Roger That

to bamboozle new trainees.

He has also appeared on Countdown.

I'd rather you didn't do jokes like that, cos I'm a journalist.

Now, Eleanor here,

one of the few people left alive

who understands what it was like to fly the Spitfire

and carry that huge responsibility.

What was it like, do you think, for people like Eleanor

to carry such huge responsibility?

Well, I don't think anyone was in any doubt as to how integral

the Spitfire was to the war effort.

I suppose the only way to truly understand the sacrifice made

by Eleanor and people like her is for me to put myself in their shoes.

So, if the plane gets into trouble, there's no ejector seat

so you'll have to bail out.

Why would the plane get into trouble?

We just have to give you the bail out procedure.

OK. So, if the pilot says, "Jump, jump, jump,"

you lower the seat,

you unlatch the canopy,

you unplug the radio, open the door,

jump away from the plane, and deploy your parachute

by pulling the D ring. D:Ream? No, D ring.

Yes, of course. If you land in water... Hang on.

Say it again? Yes, again.

Lower the seat... Seat...

...unlatch the canopy... Canopy...

...unplug the radio... I might not do that bit.

Well, you need to do that bit, otherwise

you'll be tethered to the plane

and pulled down to Earth with it. OK, I'll definitely do that, then.

I'll just asterisk the important ones.

Well, they're all important.

I'll asterisk all of them, then.

And after a handful of toilet trips,

which I'm told is perfectly normal,

it was time to spread my wings like the arms of a bird and take off.

Does this say latch or catch?

Can't look right now, sorry. Can you radio and ask someone?

Not right now. OK, but soon?

I was quickly lost in admiration for this plucky little aeroplane,

and it was a privilege to climb heavenwards

until I was touching the face of God

with the very tip of my nose.

Can you spin me again, please?

I didn't like it before,

but I do like it now,

so spin me again, please.

Up here you can be proud to be British,

and no left-wing people can tut at you.

No-one to admonish you for having

a certain point of view.

No-one accusing you of culturally appropriating a Moroccan cos

you're wearing a fez, even though you'd only gone as Tommy Cooper.

I sometimes wonder why we bothered winning the war.

Oh, it's wonderful up here.

Sitting in my tin can.

Far above the world.

I think I know how Major Tom felt when he...

...took his protein pills and...

...put his helmet on.

Do you say or BOwie or BOWie? BOWie.

Yeah, me too.

Soon after, and possibly due to the altitude,

I embarked on a reconstruction of the Battle of Britain.

Brace and spin at three o'clock.

I'm engaging.

I'm on his tail.

Wait. Where's he gone?

If he pulls back and gets on my tail, I'm done for.

Got him! Yes!

So long, Fritz.

See you on the other side.

I'm hit! Repeat, I'm hit.

I'm going down into the drink.

Tell Betty to scatter my ashes in the orchard.

God, war is awful.

Weird to think that women flew these planes as well.

The story there of the remarkable

women of the Air Transport Auxiliary.

I had such a good time.

It really makes you grateful for the sacrifices of women a lot of us

didn't even know about.

I had such a good time.

You know, but tell you what, Jennie, it really makes you

grateful for the courage of women a lot of us didn't even know about.

Now, when you're in the public eye,

you're not going to be everyone's cup of tea.

Look online, and for every well-wisher,

you'll find someone wishing you less well.

And we're off.

Reminder, get Lynn to book cleaner for the shingles,

the one I like, who wipes the old toothpaste off the nozzle.

The shingles?

Yes, I've got a holiday cottage in Cornwall.

It's got wind chimes,

hanging baskets full of pansies. Mm.

It's in a copse in a Conservative constituency,

so a little bit of heaven on Earth.

Oh, God, I'd love to get away like that from London.

Organise my thoughts a bit.

Well, you're always welcome to use it.

Is it free this weekend? This weekend?

It's just, Sam's coming back to London.

I'd rather not bump into him.

After the break-up, it'll just be... Just thinking.

Yes, it is free this weekend. Ah, OK, perfect.

Thanks, that's great. Er, yes. Mm.

I, erm...

I might be there in a camper van at the end of the garden.

OK. Great, if you're sure?

Oh, yeah, you wouldn't see or hear me.

I'll be on my Jack Jones, so...

But, no, the van's got everything. It's got a grill, fridge, telly.

No loo, but that's fine, you know.

Most of the time, I just piddle in the bushes.

But, of course, occasionally I will need to

pop into the house for full toilet,

but I'll be quiet as a church mouse.

Mm-hm. And we're back in five...

Well, thanks, Alan.

Trolls—a menace we know all too well,

because it's affected the This Time family.

And it IS a family. Mm.

Dad, Mum.

Troublesome son.

Yeah. Well, troubled son.

But, yes, I am sickened to say that one of our own, this

wonderful woman, Jennie Gresham, has fallen victim to a troll.

We thought, how better to launch

our cyber-safe campaign than to

track down my troll and ask him face-to-face why a troll trolls?

So we reached out, and he's agreed, I think, very bravely, to come

on the show. Please welcome Bhavit Sharma.

Hello. Hello. Hello.

Now, you present yourself online as someone quite forthright

and aggressive, but when we tracked you down,

you were pretty mortified.

I was, yeah, I felt terrible.

Honestly, you know, never wanted to upset anyone,

even when I was sending those tweets.

Mm-hm. Can you not slouch? Sorry.

If you want people to think you're a yobbo, you're going

about it the right way.

No, I don't...I don't want that.

Sit up straight, then.

Shoulders back.

And it's good for your back.

Actually, do slouch.

Can I just say that I'm really sorry?

You know, it was wrong and I wasn't myself.

I had some personal problems.

I'm not making excuses, but it won't happen again.

Hmm, the personal problems are no excuse.

I know. I said they were no excuse.

If they were no excuse, why mention 'em?

I got you these, by the way. Whoa.

Oh, sorry.

They're clean. Don't smell 'em.

So, help me to understand the mind-set then,

what it takes to sit at a laptop and send someone

you don't know hurtful messages.

I didn't think they were hurtful.

You didn't think they were hurtful?

Read that.

"Oh, look. Jennie Gresham's showing off her legs again."

Say it like you wrote it.

"Oh, look. Jennie Gresham's showing of her legs again."

"Oh, look. Jennie Gresham's showing of her legs again."

And the eyes.

Better. And there were plenty more messages like that.

"How much of our licence fee is spent on your mumsy M&S dresses?"

I didn't realise I look mumsy. How dare you?

I tell you something, if this lady had been my mum,

I would've been a very confused teenage boy.

Let's leave it at that.

Next. "She has a wonky smile".

Look at that smile and tell me where it's wonky.

I don't think it is.

There's a bit of extra lip on the left, and the one dimple a touch

wider than the other, but the teeth and gums are in line.

Good God, man! Is it symmetrical?

Gun to my head, probably not.

But it's mainstream glamour.

Honestly, I never thought she'd be reading 'em.

I mean, you must get thousands of messages. I do, yeah.

Yeah, we both do.

But that doesn't mean they don't affect me,

and I'm not especially thin-skinned. She's not.

A shrinking violet, she ain't.

If she gets bad service in a restaurant, believe me,

she will let you have it.

It doesn't matter who you are.

It could be the manager or just a waitress who's new.

It wasn't anything personal, you know?

I suppose you get frustrated and little things on TV annoy you.

Channel 4. Yeah, w-we all get annoyed,

but taking it out on a stranger...

Just take it out on a small business.

Make up negative Google reviews for a cafe,

or focus on your job.

I don't have a job. Pick up litter.

What does your dad do?

Car dealer, just classic cars.

Well, such as?

1957 MG Roadster, Cleveland Green 350SL, and a couple of DB5s.

Yeah, all solid cars.

What's the dealership?

Rother Classics. On the A6. I know it.

I mean, I've no beef with your dad.

So what does he want for this 350SL?

I think about 26,000 or something.

Well, Bhavit, we've got to leave it there.

But hopefully a discussion like this will make other people think

twice before sending abuse online.

Now listen carefully, cos I'm only going to say this once.

You need to go home, compose a letter of apology,

ask your father if he'll take 20 for the 350SL,

and take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror.

Well, Bhavit, I think it's very brave of you to come on the show.

Brave? Skydiving out of the back of a cargo plane is brave.

Knocking six grand off for a quick sale, that's brave.

Bhavit Sharma, thank you.

Time now for something altogether more heart-warming, from a man

who always leaves me tickled pink.

If you're scratching you're head wondering why Simon Denton is

sitting on the sofa, do not adjust your set.

It does look odd.

Simon is here to introduce his very first item...

Perhaps the shape of things to come.

Well, it's just a one-off.

He's on holiday on the sofa but he lives at the digiwall.

Simon. Now, when one pensioner's local cinema closed,

his plans for a birthday movie were scuppered.

That was until his friends decided to step up

and re-enact his favourite Hitchcock film, Rear Window.

I went along to take a look.

And action!

And we're off. Aw, that was so good. That was great.

It was good. Good. Good for you, mate. Yeah, that's...

That was pretty good, yeah. Grainy black and white...

Is that to look a bit...? Hitchcock? Yeah. Yeah. That's lovely, yeah.

I mean, Rear Window is in colour, of course,

but I don't think that matters one bit.

So, how did this land in your lap?

I just mentioned it to Howard and he said, "Yeah, give it a go." Yeah.

Right. You know you can always talk to me about work stuff,

like we agreed, mate? Yeah.

Quick shot of you nodding? It was just an edit point. Edit point!

I've been here a while. I'm starting to learn how things work. Are you?

Here comes a good bit. Excuse me.

Tiff. You're not going to...

We've got to take a raincheck on Cornwall. Oh! I know, I know.

I've got a couple of Japanese business associates flying in

from Japan to possibly invest in the bloomin' production company, so...

What business associates?

John Kawasaki and John Suzuki.

Yeah. John Yamaha couldn't make it?

Erm...

I suppose they are both named after Japanese motorcycle brands!

No, I tried to move it, but...

I said, "John - Johns - could you make it any other weekend?"

But they said, "No can do."

IMITATES JAPANESE ACCENT: "No can do."

Yeah, I know, cos Japanese...

Cos of the way... They do talk in a slightly funny way.

Shouldn't really laugh.

Japanese. Yeah.

Don't dick me about.

Places, people. And we're back in five, four...

Aw, Simon Denton reporting there.

Didn't he do a good job? Er...

And they were so welcoming.

Not just Annie Arnold at number ten,

but all her neighbours on Davenport Close in Kirkstall.

A real community. Aw, lovely.

Are you allowed to give out someone's name and address

like that on camera? I'm not sure. Don't know.

Right, I shouldn't have assumed you knew. It's just, you know,

when you've been here a while, you learn how things...work.

Yeah, we're all right.

Yeah, our apologies there just for a slight slip-up.

It's live TV, we all have our moments.

He doesn't have all this problem when he just sticks to the jokes.

I had the VT to do. Can't you do both? No time, mate.

We want a giggle. Give us a break. I did.

Remember?

Now, the world of rock music is well known for its liberal leanings.

From Billy Bragg to Beyonce,

it's become a mouthpiece for the left wing and the right-on.

Bruce Springsteen, he's another one.

Four decades singing about guys in overalls. Give it a rest.

But a new band from Middle England

are aiming to shake up the orthodoxy.

Unapologetically middle class,

they've become one of the most talked about new bands

in the country. They are Cayman.

Let's take a look.

And we're off.

Right.

By the way, if we drive down together,

I've done a CD of me reading Lord Of The Rings. Now, it's long.

I tried reading it quickly. Didn't work, so it's long.

But then, so's the journey.

Cornwall—sorry, sorry, totally slipped my mind.

Actually, a couple of girlfriends are going to take me out

in Chiswick instead. But thanks, Alan.

Positions, please. And we're back in five, four...

First of all, watching that VT,

which is the first time I'd ever seen or heard you, I thought,

Wow! Talk about shaking the tree.

Stacks of attitude.

Yeah, mad, bad and dangerous to know.

And it's Cosmo, Felix, Oscar and Juno, yeah? Good to meet ya.

Now, the fact is you set tongues wagging

because some say you flaunt your poshness.

You're a bit Marmite. Marmite is a working-class yeast spread.

We know about Marmite. OK, cool.

And, Jennie, we think far better to take ownership of our background,

our good fortune etc,

rather than resort to dropping Hs and Ts in an effort to fit in.

But what about the fact that rock music is about rebellion,

smashing the establishment?

Well, I happen to think that the establishment

is a pretty darn good thing.

Mm-hm. Yeah, we need checks, of course, we need balances. Good lad.

But I can't see too much wrong with the values of enterprise... Bravo.

...hard work and fiscal rectitude.

Sounds painful.

Fiscal rectitude? Oh, you mean rectal fissure.

Well, that is painful, yeah, but avoidable.

Something you guys won't have to contend with

for a few years, touch wood.

They do a cereal in Boots, I think, Gentle Bran.

Are you going to sing us a song? Yes.

It's a track called Cotswold Commuter,

from our debut album, Futures.

Ladies and gentlemen, Cayman with Cotswold Commuter.

Cosmo, if my son had one iota of the gumption you have,

I'd be a bloody proud dad. And I'll tell you something else,

he wouldn't've got that cashier pregnant.

♪ Blue chip portfolio, bond acquisitions ♪

♪ Late-closing prices, cash flow, commissions ♪

♪ Bollinger bands and currency futures ♪

♪ Base rates, aggregates, Cotswolds commuters ♪

♪ Profits and losses, P/E ratio ♪

♪ Tangible assets, must call Horatio ♪

♪ High-end interiors, Mac Pro computers ♪

♪ First-class carriages, Cotswolds commuters ♪

♪ Cotswolds, Cotswolds commuters... ♪

Ladies! Ladies, please, you have to cover up.

Apologies. We seem to have some guests. Please cover up!

Please cover up! There's no point showing them to me.

We're absolutely going to be working on that.

Jennie's the one on camera. Any second, we'll be able to return...

Please stop... Please stop running.

I will not allow you to portray us as some of sort of Benny Hill-style

titillating tittle-tattle. Please bear with us.

We'll be working on this momentarily.

We'll be back with Cayman... It just takes one person

to speed up the footage and set it to Yakety Sax.

We're just trying to work out exactly what's going on.

We'll be regaining some semblance of order tonight in the studio,

any minute now. Stay on me.

Stay on me.

I'm trying to block as much of the frame as possible.

You're watching This Time on BBC One.

Can you go and talk to them? I will be, yeah.

The reason I've had to move over here is that there are three things

the BBC will no longer tolerate

smoking in soap operas, criticism of the government,

and, of course, topless women who don't live in a rainforest.

Fuck the system! Right, any more language like that

and we will cut the sound. Censorship?

It's not about free speech, it's about muting a rude nude.

Fuck the BBC! Right, OK, cut...

Again, this is live TV,

but we'll do our best to give them a fair hearing.

And I can see from my monitors

that all the cameramen are framing out anything adult.

Well, nearly all. Camera two? Terry?

Terry! Sort it out, mate. Sorry about that.

Can we get a clip mic onto her? Actually, just use a boom.

So, tell us who you are. We're Punkbitch.

We're a punk protest collective.

This band are stooges for capitalist interests.

Yeah, but isn't there a danger that you undermine your message

by using your sexuality to titillate lonely middle-aged men?

Well, the fact we're talking to you now justifies our methods.

Can I say something? Camera two.

You represent the 1%.

You've controlled the message for thousands of years.

No, no, I think if you're criticising the band...

Camera one. ...then he has a right to reply. Thank you.

Instead of tearing the whole thing down... Camera two.

...let's make a fairer Britain, let's make a better Britain,

let's make a Britain that works.

Got to say, you sound like one David Cameron.

Thank you. You're welcome.

It's time to burn the house down and start again!

And if you turn to me, our vision mixer, Doug, is telling me

that he is now censoring the images with black redactors in real time.

He can move them whenever you move.

Do you want to give it a try and beat the redactor?

Move left and right.

OK, good, good, but no cigar.

Cosmo. We respect the right of people to protest.

That's not in question. But if we want to actually solve problems...

This is exactly the same... No, no. ...corporate, anodyne chat...

This is a nation built on discourse. Hey! ...to subdue the masses.

Hey! The world's effed up big stylee,

and that sucks a big one, guys. Scuse me.

And while a part of me has a sneaking admiration for the sheer

vim and fizz of you girls, there comes a point when you have to say,

Time out, Punkbitch. Calm down, Pussy Riot.

When I get fed up with the world, I walk the dog.

I've got an idea.

Why don't we all sing Imagine, by John Lennon?

ALL: No! All right, OK.

Well, finally something you can all agree on.

And, look, if you guys can find some common ground in giggling at me

like some square uncle at a wedding, I'm down with that.

Well, I'm afraid that is all we have time for.

Thank you to all our guests, invited and not so invited.

And thank you to Doug in the gallery for operating the black redactor.

He's just told me—yeah, presumably in the event of an inquiry—

if needed, the unredacted version is still accessible

should I require it.

Thanks, Doug. And goodnight. Goodnight.

And we're off.

Tiff? You're not going to believe this.

Just got a call from Tokyo.

Jennie bailed on you, did she?

Yeah. Yeah, so, look, do you want to come this weekend or not?

All right. Excellent.

So, shall I travel up with you?

Nah, I'll just pick you up at the train station.

Train? That's quite expensive.

Yeah, I'll pay for it. Just...

...make sure you travel after 7pm on a standard non-flexible ticket.

All right. Excellent.