Original subtitles

Well, now, that music was very foreboding.

It's made a shiver go right down my spine.

- That'll be the air-conditioning. - I would've taken it off sooner,

but I was having a fascinating conversation with the proud father

of Norfolk's most sun-tanned child.

Just passed his details on to the Social Services.

The time is 11:59 and 55 seconds.

-It's midday. -Uh, well, no... Well, yeah, it is now.

You're listening to Mid-Morning Matters.

Mid-Morning Matters with Alan Partridge.

Music and chat for the Norfolk generation.

Sorry, it's the other way, isn't it?

Uhm, later we'll be taking dedications

for anyone who's been wrongly turned down for planning permission.

Also, I'll be asking: "Which is the worst monger?"

Fish, iron, rumour or war? Pretty clear, that one.

But now it's time for today's large question.

Large question.

It's the near future.

An unprovoked chemical attack from France, or possibly China,

has left us without a sense of smell.

In a whiff-free world, what smell would you miss the most?

- Tom in Diss? - Petrol.

Nice. Wrongly, and confusingly, referred to by the Americans as "gas".

It's petrol, not gas.

- Dominic in Castle Acre? - Money.

- Yep. Joe in Holt? - My wife's nightie.

-You kinky get. -Saucy sod.

She died, you see.

-Smells matter. -They do.

Hey, Greg. Look. This is a great station,

you know, a real cracker.

Yeah. Hi, Pat. Uhm, this is Jason Tresswell,

- Managing Director of-- Goredale Media.

Hmm, our new owners, huh? I Googled you on Yahoo.

This is Pat, Pat Farrell.

- Does week nights. Ten to twelve. - Sleepy-time slot.

So, are you on your way out?

You tell me.

Gillian writes to ask: "Is it true you're being taken over

by a bunch of corporate whores?" Uh, Gillian,

I'm 99% certain that's not true.

We've got a text here from Joy in Diss who says:

"An easy way to solve the problems in Israel,

-A thorny issue. -would be for Judaism and Islam to merge."

Yeah. Wouldn't hold your breath.

-Mm, well, they both hate pigs. -True enough.

- You could call it Jislam. - That's enough.

Uhm, I think you can, well, I think you can go in, uh, kind of circles, can't you,

trying to think of, uh, names for something? Even, uh, a cat.

Well, nettles cause 'em, dock leaves cure 'em.

It's a sting. It's Sting.

-Sorry. -Never, never criticise Muslims.

Only, only Christians. And Jews a little bit.

Alan,

it's started. They're here. We're being taken over.

So?

Like the coconut.

Hello?

Coconut. Coconut. Everybody like the coconut.

-Are you in the business centre? -Coconut.

Coconut. Everybody like the coconut.

Coconut.

Coconut. Everybody like the coconut.

Coconut. Coconut.

Oh. Hello, Lynn. I'm just reading about how ospreys died out in Britain

and had to be reintroduced

from Scandinavian stock in the early nineties.

-Hmm. -And, uh...

Now I think there are almost 500 of them.

Yeah. Four hundred and eighty.

It shows we should treasure and value our wildlife.

So, what you got, girl?

Well, the butchers want you to do another voiceover.

"Bannan's the Butcher's. Yesterday's meat at today's prices."

And you've had the mayor of Hickling get in touch. He listens to your show

and he wants to offer you the freedom of the village.

Hickling doesn't even have a post office.

They give you a big key.

-How big? -That big.

Tell him I accept.

Well, everything seems to be tugging along nicely.

Everything okay, Alan?

Our friend, Michael's just sent a text

saying he hasn't bought toilet paper in 18 months.

-How does he... -Ah! He steals it from a pub.

-Oh. -That's a relief.

Shared a bag of salty popcorn with him last week.

Hi, I'm Pat Farrell. Join me tonight at ten

for a hearty casserole of tunes, cheer and chin-wag.

Local folk trio Will-o'-the-wisp will be playing live in the studio,

and I'll be taking your calls on my ever popular fireside phone in.

Don't miss it.

Okay, for those of you who haven't slipped into a coma,

you are listening to the Breakfast Show

with me, Danny Sinclair and these bunch of muppets.

Hi, How we feeling this morning then, guys?

Better than you, by the look of things.

Oh, excuse me, I had it large.

- I got on it. - Take it easy tonight, then.

Well, I wish I could, but we've got the launch, haven't we, tonight.

Cause, as you know, North Norfolk Digital are changing their name to...

Shape -The Way You Want It To Be.

Coming up next, Alan Partridge. God bless him. I mean, how old is he?

- Sixty or something. - Got to be, hasn't he?

Fifty-five.

Alan, we love you, mate. We love you really.

This one's for you. If you're listening, it's...

Roachford.

Your fog lamps are on.

Your fog lamps are on. There's no fog.

There's no fog.

No fog.

Love that noise.

Michael, do it outside.

- Morning, Michael. - Morning, Mr Partridge.

Paper.

I was doing a fist bump.

Yeah well, you would say that now you've lost.

No, it's instead of a handshake.

Yeah, some people say it's more hygienic than a handshake.

But who's to say you can't get shit on your fist?

Hey, did you hear him making fun of you earlier?

I did, Michael, but as Oscar Wilde said,

"There's only one thing worse than being talked about."

-Cancer. -No. "Not being talked about."

But Oscar Wilde said not being talked about is worse than cancer?

Yeah. Yeah. I-I-I think he was at a party.

Probably just being a gay show-off.

Shape. Shape. Shape.

Do you know what I really like? I like waking up in the morning,

breathing in the air and, uh,

actually realising I've made it through the night and I haven't wet the bed.

No, I am, uh, I am joking, obviously, but, uh, they were, of course,

uh, very, very dark days indeed.

But they're all behind me now.

- Morning, Angela. - Morning, Alan.

Uh, Alan Partridge has just walked into the building.

Walking and talking, like The West Wing.

- Hope he doesn’t hurt himself. - Mr President, we have a code red.

-I've never seen the show. -No, me neither.

Oh, corner coming up.

You never know... what's around the corner.

More corners, usually.

Imagine a world without corners.

No-one would be able to cut any.

Everyone would be going round in circles.

Wow.

I enjoyed that.

I want to tell you one thing. It did strike me that, uh,

when I was going through my, sort of, bad times, I found

that Norfolk was perhaps maybe not the place, uh, to be and, uh...

j-j-j-just because it's so flat and, uh, there was a sort of a...

a bleakness about the place,

but obviously now, uh...

You're a good broadcaster, Alan. Don't forget that.

-I wasn't planning to, Pat. -Have you seen this memo?

"Exciting new phase. Here's to the future."

-My days are numbered, mate. -Pat, no-one's getting sacked.

It's just a rumour. It's like Bobby Brushes, the caretaker,

when the swimming pool allegations came out.

-He was in bits. -Yeah.

And in the end, it turned out he was just helping those lads towel off.

-He was being nice. -Yeah.

He didn't even know them.

Yeah, but where is he now?

-He runs his own business. -There. You see. He's back on his feet.

Rents out bouncy castles.

For adults, yeah?

I don't know, Alan. Look at this memo.

I've seen the memo. It's quite simple.

Goredale Media are simply re-imagining our core brand values

and giving it a name more fitting to multi-platform content delivery.

-They're people people. -People people sack people.

No, Pat. People sack people.

People people please people. You know that.

-Can you have a word with them, Alan? -Would you?

Uh, sure. I mean, yeah. I mean, yeah.

As soon as I can get them all in the same room together,

-which is not an easy ta-- -They're all up in the boardroom now.

-Oh, that's great. -Thank you.

-Thank you, Alan. You're a pal. -Well, pals is pals.

So, if we're all looking at the, uh,

last quarterly figures for North Norfolk on page six,

and then, if you turn to page five--

Hi, guys, don't want to be an agenda-bender,

but, uh, any chance of a?

Oh, it's actually not a good time, Alan.

No, no. It's fine, we've got time. Come in.

Oh yeah, cause we moved the other thing. Then we took three of this.

-Yeah, it's a good time. -Yeah.

Alan. Alan Partridge.

Jason Tresswell, MD of Goredale Media.

Right. By the way, it's not "Alan Alan Partridge".

It's "Alan, comma, Alan Partridge".

-I know some people do have two names. -Yes.

Zsa Zsa Gabor, for instance.

Duran Duran. It's something like that.

Yeah, that's not as good.

Uhm, yeah, no, I, uh, Kris Kris Tofferson.

Excellent small talk. Gentlemen, to business.

Okay, I am here as one of the more senior D-jocks at this station.

I'm here to talk about jobs.

Like a Nazi officer this, isn't it? Should, uh, snap my heels together, huh?

- Achtung! - Guten Tag.

Silence! Sorry. I meant to miss you.

Okay. I want you to do something for me.

I want you to take all your prejudices, put them in a box marked "prejudices",

put it to one side, wipe the prejudice juice off your hands--

Alan, can I just stop you there?

- Change is healthy, you shouldn't fear it. - I'm not scared of anything.

Not even an elephant, which is interesting,

because there's one in this room.

- Wanna know his name? - Pat Farrell.

It's Pat Farrell.

Pat's audience is old.

Old people, much like dogs, are blindly loyal.

And if Pat hi-tails it to Cedar FM and they follow,

you've got a grey exodus on your hands. A grexodus.

Hmm. That prejudices box

doesn't seem quite so cool anymore, does it?

Yeah, but we bought Cedar FM as well.

I didn't know that. I did not know that.

The point is...

You were talking about Pat Farrell.

Thanks. Pat Farrell is a great guy.

He's always the first to speak up at union meetings,

uh, you know, being a member of a union.

Don't know if you know, but he's also Irish, which again, weirdly,

a plus point, uh, if you like swearing.

He's often on his shows: "Feckin' dis" and "Feckin' dat".

And there's some Irish people saying that "Feck off" isn't as bad as "Fuck off"

but I think that's bullshit or bellshit.

The bottom line is, he swears too much.

This is all very interesting, Alan--

Okay, I can sum up Pat Farrell in ten words.

Pat isn't very good so let him go, guys, seriously.

I-I can condense that to three words.

Just sack Pat.

That completes my presentation.

Gentlemen, I'll leave you to your biscuits.

Gloves.

Oh, fucking hell.

Glove.

That was soft rock cocaine enthusiasts, Fleetwood Mac.

And this was Mid-Morning Matters.

-Where once again... -Mid-morning

-mattered. -mattered.

Supposed to do it in sync. All right?

Always leave a gap.

-Sorry. -Simple. Very simple.

You're listening to Shape - The Way You Want It To Be.

Uh-huh. Right. And will it take long?

It will take long. Okay.

Hi, Pat. Uhm, I'll catch you later.

Well, I'm not not happy about it,

but I'll just--

I'll just have to go along with it, won't I?

The problem is that the phone rings

even when I'm speaking on it,

so it sounds bloody weird.

Yeah. In fact, I think it just did it then.

Did, did, did you hear it? Did, did you hear it? Yes? Yeah.

He heard it too. Yeah.

Okay, well, I'll leave it with you.

Uh-huh. Yep.

Yep. All right. Thanks, Susan.

Yeah, I'd say, if Geoff Susan doesn't mend that phone, there'll be hell to pay.

They wouldn't even let me say goodbye to my listeners.

Just gave me 30 minutes to clear out my locker.

Well, at least I'm getting their mugs dirty.

Thanks, Alan. You always stuck up for me.

Not like the others.

Well, I'll let you get back to...Geoff.

-Who's Geoff? -Geoff Susan.

Oh, yes, of course.

I did, I did the right thing, didn't I, Lynn?

I mean, I think he knew his days were numbered.

More of an assisted suicide really. I just...

flew him to Switzerland... and filled out a few forms and, uh...

sloped off to the airport.

I've got to be honest, Lynn, I, I, I'm feeling pretty crummy.

Pat's Irish, isn't he?

To be sure.

Why don't you donate £50 to Sinn Fein?

Perfect.

Love that noise.

Now, just keep me away from the sausage rolls.

I started wearing my chubby clothes again.

-I noticed. -What the chub, or the clothes?

-Ipad. -My-pad.

Not that funny, Lynn.

I used to go with prostitutes.

-Brilliant. -Yeah. Uh...

Cocaine, that was a trigger. You know, cocaine, prostitutes.

Bit of a cycle. Puking up the old, uh, luminous green bile.

Yeah, I was withdrawing.

I've got my minder with me.

-Oh. Lynn? -Yeah, she might not seem tough

but I once saw her stamp on 50 cockroaches in a minute.

He didn't see. He was in the next room.

-It was in Wales. -It's true, yeah.

All I could hear was crunch, crunch, crunch, stamp, stamp, stamp.

I thought she was, uh, country dancing whilst eating cereal.

I thought it was the End of Days. They were legion.

Lynn likes The Bible.

I've never understood moths.

They only come out at night, yet they're attracted to the light.

I don't know why they just don't come out during the day.

I've nothing to add to that. In fact, if you substituted butterfly--

Sorry, could you get some sausage rolls?

If you substituted butterfly for moth,

I think it would sound like poetry, yeah.

Unfortunately, uh, Wordsworth didn't say:

"I wandered lonely as a moth to eat some jumpers in a drawer."

"As if that wasn't bad enough, it ate my sock upon the moor."

Yeah. It's just, I don't know why a sock could be on the moor.

A mitten, maybe.

...and I actually spewed up some of my stomach lining.

I don't know if you've, uh, you've ever done, uh,

done any horse, have you?

-I've ridden a donkey. -No, no, no, I mean heroin.

I know what you mean. No, I've not done heroin.

-I don't like subtitles in my films. -If you can read, read a book.

Citizen Kane. Black and white. I haven't seen that.

I tell you what, the best film for me, ever,

-Yeah? -is still The Godfather.

-Amazing film. -Perfect film.

-Yeah. -Yeah.

"I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse."

-Amazing acting, though. -Great, great, great acting.

I tell you what's even better.

A lot of people are shocked when I say this: the camera angles.

- Alan, I need a word. - Camera angles?

It's rather delicate.

Remember when you took me for that Christmas meal at the ice rink?

You remember that woman disinfecting the boots?

The one that took a shine to you?

I went home and you and her...

Well, it's... none of my business.

It is none of your business, Lynn, but yeah, for the record,

went back to her place,

yeah, watched Air Crash Investigation, then I fell asleep in her big armchair.

A perfectly normal woman.

Well, she's here.

Lynn, get rid of her. She's a drunk racist.

-I'll tolerate one, but not both. -Fine.

But you said I could pop by any time.

I know, but my career's hanging by a thread.

-And I'm an embarrassment, am I? -No, no.

You just wanted sex, you used me.

Well, maybe you used me.

You know, I-I didn't have much of a say over what went on that night.

Didn't hear you complaining.

I couldn't speak.

See you round mine again, then.

I don't know. I'm, I'm, uh...

What's wrong with my place?

All those dogs barking.

But it's their bedroom too.

Bettie, may I have a word?

He's talking clap... crap!

I sound like a fucking Chinky when I'm pissed!

There we go.

All done.

What did you say to her?

I told her that God loves everyone.

Even sluts.

-Goodnight, Lynn. -Night, Alan.

Hello?

V funny. Tee-hee.

Very impressive.

Oh. They must have left in a hurry. Something weird's happened.

All right, you freaked me out,

so just... pack it-- There you are!

Pat?

I'm down.

You...

You step to me?

Simon.

Uh... Yeah, all right. I'll go on without you.

Stop! Stop! Stop!

- I need to commandeer this vehicle. - What?

- There's a mad man with a gun. - Oh.

- He's Irish! - Get in.

Why do you sit so close to the wheel? I could steer with my balls!

- Where's the nearest police station? - Just here.

Oh.

- Thanks. - Are you Alan Partrid--

Assault, battery, kidnap, chronic thuggery,

brandishment, actual bodily harm,

grievous bodily harm...

- harm. - Just stick to what you saw

and we'll decide if it's ABH or GBH.

You mean aitch?

That's what I said.

Nearly, you said, you said haitch.

"Ha" is the sound of the letter, aitch is its name.

One is ha, the other is aitch. Neither is "haitch".

I'm sorry, I'm a bit nervous.

Mr Partridge?

There's something else we need to talk about.

Oh...

-You're not in trouble. -Oh, fine.

I've never been in a police car before.

May I lower the window, please?

Foxtrot Sierra.

Alpha Papa arriving at the school building. Over.

-Officer. -Mr Partridge.

-You were at the police station. -Yeah, I was just in the car with you.

-Ah. -If you want to follow me, please.

- This way, please, sir. Sir. - Yep.

Let's do it.

Mr Partridge, this is the Gold Commander of the operation.

Seriously, is that what you're called?

On this operation, yes.

I'm Acting Chief Constable Janet Whitehead.

- An honour. - And I'm Martin Fitch...

Send.

...from Scotland Yard's Hostage and Crisis Unit,

here to lead the negotiation.

Uh, little bit awkward. Who's in charge?

Make no mistake, this lady is in charge.

So here's the situation.

Pat is refusing to speak to us directly.

He's willing to give us three hostages,

but only if he can talk to us through you.

Now, we need to know why Pat has done this

so we can draw things to a peaceful conclusion.

Yeah, sure, I'll talk to him. Deal.

Sorry, wrong person.

Come here.

Okay. Now, are you on any medication?

Uh, just some cream.

Uh, I've got very aggressive athlete's foot,

but that's the only thing about me that is.

And do you suffer from any nervous conditions,

such as panic attacks?

Do I look like I suffer from panic attacks?

I've had one panic attack in a car wash.

It was a perfect storm of no sleep, uh, no wife,

and angry brushes whirring towards me.

Uhm, by the time the giant hair dryer came on, I was in the footwell.

Does the idea of weaponry trouble you?

Oh no. I've fired several rifles, at fun fairs, and won prizes.

But I've never fired one in anger, or at a cat.

We'll have you fully briefed

by the tactical firearms team.

-Cool. -And we'll be keeping

in regular phone contact with you when you go in.

Very cool. Sorry, go in? What, into the building?

Uh-huh.

To speak to Pat in person?

Yes, is that not what you--

-You-- -Uhm...

Everything okay?

Yeah, I'm just a little nervous about going into a car wash. I mean, a siege.

So what do you say, Al?

Will you help us?

Yep.

Guys, none of us choose the hand we're dealt...

-You know... -We do need an answer, I'm afraid.

Why? Do you have another siege to go to?

It's my understanding that if you say yes, you're normally allowed a few words.

So you are saying yes?

Yeah, I was gonna leave that bit to the end.

-If you'd like to come with me. -Sure.

Can I get a copy of that?

- Right, let's keep this simple, shall we? - Roger, that.

-No heroics. -Ten-four, good buddy.

-Do not physically engage him. -It's fight a gun, flee a knife, yeah?

-And here do you read that? -I've got to say.

Big fans of you guys in TFU.

Uh, if I had my way, all police officers would carry firearms.

I personally think that firearms should remain

-in the hands of the specialists. -Yeah, I was, I was gonna say

that although all police officers should carry firearms,

only the specialists should be allowed to fire them.

And if you think I've just made that up, you can call my assistant.

Alan! Read my lips.

Now, if you jeopardise the safety of any of my men,

or any of those hostages inside that building,

because you've not been listening to me,

I will take off this police uniform and I will make you pay for it.

You want me to buy your police uniform off you?

No. I'll give you a fucking good hiding, is that clear?

Yes, that's clear. Yes. That's clear.

You're close to me.

Now, you're a smart bloke, I know you can handle it.

-I know you're not gonna disappoint me. -I won't disappoint you.

I aim to please you, and I, I hope to impress you.

-Good man. -Yeah, you're a good man too.

Right, well, Don will fill you in.

He has to say all that shit for the insurance.

-Right. -Tell me this much, mate.

What's your favourite siege?

-Iranian Embassy. -Same. Why?

Because they used the sound of a pneumatic drill

to disguise the noise of them removing

bricks from a neighbouring wall.

So they could smash through the plaster and...

Take them out the game.

-Oh, it's just a great siege. Yeah. -It's just a great siege.

Right.

Do you want to see me gun?

Does, uhm... Yes, please.

Let's clock the Glock.

You'll have to move quicker than that.

Any last messages for your kids?

Oh, uh, no, they don't speak to me anymore.

Actually, yeah, "Why don't you speak to me anymore?"

Well, I wouldn't know the answer, would I now? So just uhm...

Just, uh, just, mm, tell them I love them.

Pat, Alan's coming in now.

-Greg! -Oh, hey, Alan. Oh, thanks.

-They let you go as well? -Oh, yeah.

I'm just relieved to be getting out of there.

Aren't there still women in there?

Yeah, well, I-I think it would be a bit sexist to let all the women go out first.

Yeah. Sleep well, Greg.

Thanks.

Pat?

Pat?

Pat?

-Prepare to die. -I'm not ready to!

-Alan, it's okay, it's okay, it's me. -Oh, Christ.

-It's me, Pat. -Oh.

God, you...

I just thought a little jokey costume would, you know,

put you at ease, give you a giggle.

All right, mission accomplished.

-Oh, God. -It's great to see you.

Good to see you, too. I actually bought you some cake.

Not that you deserve it after that, you ruddy sod.

I should just crush it in my hand. I already have. How the devil are you?

Yeah, not bad, not bad.

-I mean, you know, how are you feeling? -Yeah, great!

Good. Oh, uh, the police told me to bring you this.

It's just a standard field phone,

you know, should you feel the inclination to communicate

with the authorities.

Uh, good thing about these things are,

they're immune to all the problems and glitches you get

with satellite phones.

It's, uh, like I say, it's just an option, really.

I just realised, when you asked me now how I was feeling, you meant, uh...

Yes, I did.

-Does this answer your question? -Yes, it does.

Oh, hello. Didn't see you there.

Someone's been in the wars.

- Oh, that's just Simon. - Uh, can he breathe through that?

Of course he can. It's just like wearing a mask.

At least when someone puts you in a mask,

you've got a safe word, like "airbag", or "crayfish".

- What's the uh, that thing? - Oh. We made that.

It's a head holster.

Right. Never heard of one of those.

Yeah, I'll show you. Simon?

You insert the shotgun.

Place on stand. And... Voilà. Hands free.

I can move around the studio, do anything I want.

And if something happens...

I don't even have to look.

Boom. Hit the target.

Yeah... well, you don't need an accomplice.

Well, I've got you now.

Yeah.

Thank you.

So you're with the police now?

Oh! This, no, this is just... I think it's Velcro. There you go.

Feck the police.

You know, I think they thought, you know, if they did take a pot shot at you -

it's a siege, you've got a gun -

uh, that the bullet might pass through you and hit me.

Unless, of course, they use dum-dums, which explode inside the body.

I said, do not use dum-dums on Pat Farrell, Farrell, Ferrell.

You know, just use a high-velocity round that passes straight through his body

because he's a personal friend of mine.

And I suppose, if I want to shoot you, I can always aim for the head.

Exactly. Exactly. Uhm, I don't even know why I'm wearing it.

-So take it off. -I'll happily take it off.

-Go on, then. -In fact, if you want me to take it off,

-I'll take it off. -Fucking take it off!

Oh, no, Pat, now you're making me want to wear it.

You know, I mean, th-th-this is not my bag.

I'm a disc jockey. I'm sorry you got the sack.

I'm 55 years old, I should be at home in bed watching funny videos on YouTube.

"Sneezing panda"

or "Charlie bit my finger".

Have you seen "Fat woman falls down the hole"?

-That's hilarious. Isn't it? -Yeah.

I've seen it before, but, yeah.

That, I mean, that should, that should be fenced off really,

but uhm, I'm glad it wasn't.

Great.

Uh, oh yeah, I'm supposed to ask, where are the hostages?

In there.

Oh, my God!

That's like some sort of zoo from Planet Of The Apes.

Danny looks a bit... bruised.

I lost my temper a couple of times.

-Three times. -Yeah. Yeah, yeah, it was three.

Go and say hello. Give him a slap yourself, if you want.

Oh, no...

No, I'll just, I'll just say hello.

- Alan... - Do the police know we're here?

Alan! What the hell's going on?

Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Cool it with the cross-talk,

you're supposed to be professional broadcasters.

I'm not, I'm a writer.

We're only gonna get through this with each other.

Now, I want everyone to shake hands with everyone else.

Now! Whether you want to or not.

This is ridiculous.

Uh, yeah. Hello, uh, Conner.

-Paper. -Yeah. Hi.

Okay. Pat will not communicate directly with the police.

Only through me.

So as of now, I am bullhorn.

But I think we're gonna be okay.

-Okay? He hit me. -Let's not

get into who hit who or, you know, who, you know, may have deserved it.

You need to keep him away from me. Understand?

What I need to do, Danny,

in conjunction with Jason, is crisis management. I'm sure he'll agree

- there has been plenty of crisis-- But no management.

Cowabunga. Walk with me.

Alan, you do realise you're in the box seat here?

You've got the guy's confidence.

Yeah. I don't know why. I mean, I go for a curry with him once a year,

and even then I don't have a starter. Trouble is, he does.

All I need to know

-is can you handle it? -Well, uh...

Put it this way, would you ask that of a man who'd gone paintballing,

realised he'd left his goggles at reception but carried on anyway?

-Why? -You're looking at him.

Okay, guys, quick.

Just had a pow-wow with Jase, upshot is,

I'm gonna be his right-hand man on this one.

He'll be, uhm, my left-hand man.

-S, uh, the p-- -Sorry.

The point is,

Pat has not gone mad.

He has a grievance.

He needs some sort of outlet.

This is Pat Farrell, welcoming

you to Roll Out The Farrell

on North Norfolk Digital.

Okay. Pat may have, may have, may have gone mad.

He may have gone mad.

And now we have a text from Cynthia in Holt, who writes,

"Dear Pat, we are sending you--

- Ma'am, you'd better listen to this. - ...plum brandy.

We use it to make brandy butter--

Why am I listening to shit radio?

That's Pat Farrell, ma'am. He's broadcasting from the siege.

Hmm, yum, Cynthia. Can't wait.

Can you gently remind Pat that we had an agreement?

You are there to communicate with us.

Listen, I don't know what it says in, uh,

your police operation manual, or, uh, in Psycho-babble Weekly.

Penguin Book of Sieges.

Uh, yeah. Or The Penguin Book of Sieges,

uh, but out here in the field, it's plenty different.

Uhm, I've got a guy with a gun and a gripe to grind,

and he say, "No speaky."

I would really like to establish a dialogue here, Alan.

A simple tri-lateral exchange,

from Pat, to you, to me, to you, to Pat. Do you understand?

No more interruptions

or else! You think I don't have balls? I've got plenty of balls!

Oh yeah. I've got balls coming out of my arse!

-Uh, did you hear that? -Yes.

Well, that's... Well, that's the end of the call. Bye.

You are listening to North Norfolk Digital.

Shape.

The Way You Want It To Be.

Where are all my jingles?

Jason wanted them deleted.

Well, he won't have deleted them all.

No, he did delete them all.

-He did delete them all, Pat. -What?

It was jingle genocide.

That's not helping, Simon.

The bastard. Alan, take over for me.

No. I'm gonna straighten him out.

Oh, and... keep it light.

Right, uhm, okay.

You're listening to the Pat and Alan Show.

-Mainly Pat.

Tonight's show, we'll be asking You, Jason. Yeah, you.

what time

uh, does mike paper slider switch

to, to, to mouse

his chocolate...

cups?

-It doesn't make sense. -It doesn't make sense,

but if you can rearrange to make sense

then you could win bins,

and win...

- win, windows. - Alan,

- help me! - So that's our win

a bin and window, re-arrange the sentence, keep it light, competition.

Oh, shit.

This is the theme from Ski Sunday.

Sorry for swearing.

I've put up with shits like you for most of my life...

What? No!

One hour.

And if that jingle isn't word for word what I just said,

I am going to shoot you in the feet, then the knees, then the hands.

And basically anything you've got two of... like your face.

Oh yeah. Two-faced.

One hour.

One hour? This is impossible.

I'm gonna fucking die.

- Come on. We've only got an hour. - What are we gonna do?

You can't do a top-quality jingle in an hour.

We can do this.

Let me tell you a story, uhm...

Back in the day, I was MC-ing a conference for Reynard Pharmaceuticals.

That evening, some of the marketing guys were doing karaoke.

I didn't join in, I tended to shun Japanese culture.

This was the mid-90s, it was more acceptable.

But high on a cocktail of champagne and cheap Fosters lager,

I lunged at the microphone.

A few minutes later, I was making grown men cry with my rendition

of "Summer Of '69" by Bryan Adams.

Thing is, I twisted the lyrics

to the "Summer Of '29", evoking memories

of the Wall Street Crash and German hyperinflation.

Remember, many these guys were in sales--

Alan, where are you going with this?

I think, the point is,

he didn't think he was any good at singing,

and it turns out he was quite good at singing.

-Yeah, that. -And that if you really, really try,

-you can do anything. -Yeah, and that.

I don't care! I'm going to fucking die!

Hey, hey, I'm trying to save your head, shoulders, knees and toes.

Knees and toes.

Okay, man up, musos.

Well, I used to play synth in a jazz funk band.

-Great, who else? -I used to be the drummer in Marillion.

-Marillion? -There's no time for that.

But wow and great.

What are you gonna do first?

I'm gonna lay down a rhythm track.

Oh.

Lynn Benfield?

-I am she. -Do you know Mr Alan Partridge?

Okay.

He wasn't stealing crisps.

He just gets flustered at self-service checkouts and

-takes things without scanning them. -Miss Benfield--

He doesn't like being told to put things in bagging areas by automated women.

No, Miss Benfield,

we're here because Mr Partridge is currently involved in an armed siege.

-Oh. -We're informing you as his next of kin.

Take me to him.

That was beautiful.

Could you make me some more?

-No. -Oh. Uh...

-Definitely! -Yes, maybe.

Local folk trio Will'o-the-wisp won't be coming in now.

Apparently, there are road closures in Norwich due to a major police incident.

Thanks for waiting, Miss Benfield.

Now, we're just trying to speak to anyone who can help us build a picture

of Pat Farrell. You said you know him?

Uh, well, I made three cakes for him over the last year.

But there was nothing in them

that would have led him to do this. They were very plain.

Yeah, that's not one of our lines of investigation.

Uh, we would just like you to tell us what you know about Pat.

Irish. Shock of brown, curly hair.

He's a strong man, with strong arms and a good walk. Moves well.

That's very helpful, Lynn.

Oh. Thank you.

Now, how about some coffee?

Oh. Of course. How do you take it?

No, we'll get it for you.

Just sit there, I'll be back.

I hate all this shit. Telling us how to speak.

They think they're giving us an identity but they're just--

Turning us into nobodies.

We're just unit-shifters for the money men.

Sounds quite good.

Alan... did you ever imagine what life would be like in your 50s?

I had hopes and dreams. I think we all did.

Penny for them.

Keep the penny, you've got a gun.

But, yeah, I used to dream that one day I'd...

drive a brand-new Range Rover, towing a speed boat.

I used to dream about growing old with someone I love.

Hmm. Both valid.

It's not gonna happen now, is it?

I miss my Molly so much.

-Who's this chap? -That's Molly.

Yes, of course.

She's got such... brown hair.

A year after that was taken,

the angels took her.

Must have been a few of them.

Now I've nobody.

No wife.

No family. No kids.

I've gotta say, Pat, kids don't make you happy.

Some of the unhappiest times of my life have been with my kids.

I remember, uh...

a holiday on, on the beach in Prestatyn.

The kids came over to me and said, "Papa, Papa! Follow me,"

and, uh, you know...

I followed them about 200 yards across the sand dunes.

When I got there, finally, all they'd done was dug a big hole.

Miserable.

Sounds lovely.

-Good morning! -Crayfish!

I feel absolutely great.

There's a lot to be said for a good sleep and a hot shower.

Yeah.

Sleep well, Alan?

Uh, yes, thank you.

As the Shape siege enters its first morning,

police are refusing to confirm

the number or identities of the hostages

still being held at gunpoint by sacked DJ, Pat Farrell.

Fellow DJ, Alan Partridge, is in contact with the police

who are now set up at the school behind me.

What would you like us to play, Iris?

"Always On My Mind" by Willie Nelson.

I would love to, Iris, but unfortunately that's not in the system.

You see, we are only allowed play-approved tracks.

But, Pat, you've got a gun. You can play whatever you like.

Leave it with me and I'll see what I can do, okay?

Remember we used to choose our own records?

Yeah. Or put on a compilation album if you were tired or couldn't be bothered.

Yeah.

You like country music, Alan?

Can't say I do, Pat.

It's just jilted spouses complaining whilst drunk.

Also known as a date, if you're over 40.

You know, when a listener asks for a song

and I don't have it, I feel like I've let them down.

Yeah.

And Willie Nelson was Molly's favourite too.

And "Always On My Mind" was her favourite song.

Do you remember that?

The old road show bus.

Oh! Remember it? I took my family camping in that.

-Yeah? -Yeah. That was a tough nine days.

You see, this bus brought joy to hundreds.

I wonder where it is now.

Probably impounded after it crushed those scouts.

No, no, it's, it's in the basement.

-Oh? -Yeah.

-Did not know that. -I used-- Oh!

-Forgot the record. Hold that, will you? -Sure.

Give me the gun, Alan.

Yeah.

The gun, Alan.

Yeah. I was looking at my clothes before.

Some people call it gear, don't they? Others call it an outfit.

But I call it clobber!

Jesus!

Alan! Alan! Alan!

- Alan, give me the gun! - Armed police,

-stay where you are! -Give me the gun.

Drop the weapon!

Alan!

Alan, open the door.

I'm just, uh, trying to find some way to escape.

Alan! Alan!

Ayatollah!

He's got a shooter.

-Are you all right, Alan? -Yeah, I'm fine.

Cuddle me, cop!

Target down.

Yours, I believe.

You probably thought I was gay when I gave you that cuddle.

Don't worry, I'm not.

- You're really cool, Alan. - Yeah, we think you're cool.

Thank you. Sorry, uh, who, who are you?

-Jason Statham. -Jason Bourne.

Jason Argonaut.

Jason Argonaut?

Hmm.

It's Jason and the Argonauts.

- Yes. - Are you all right?

You just said, "clobber" and then "Jason and the Argonauts".

Oh. Sorry.

-All right. We go? -Yeah.

Oh, uh, by the way, thanks for not taking the gun.

Oh, that's, that's fine.

You're listening to Pat Farrell, and this is Willie Nelson,

"Always On My Mind".

For someone who's always on my mind, my late wife Molly.

Does that man look 59 to you?

I didn't look. I just put his name into Google Images.

This is Pat Farrell.

That is a Pat Farrell. Do I have to do everything?

Ma'am, you better hear this.

It's taken from the transcript of the broadcast.

0100 hours. "Partridge:

I wish this was abroad because it would make a brilliant Banged Up Abroad.

Farrell: What's Banged Up Abroad?

Partridge: You don't know Banged Up Abroad?

Farrell: No.

Partridge: Everyone knows Banged Up Abroad.

Farrell: I don't. What is Banged up Abroad?

Partridge: You seriously don't know Banged Up Abroad?

You have to be shitting me.

Farrell: I've never even heard of--"

Just get to the bit where they stop saying Banged Up Abroad.

"Side-kick Simon: I once banged up a broad.

Partridge: That's the best you've got, even with a gun to your head?"

He's got a gun to his head.

I remember once coming to in a skip in the middle of the afternoon

with my underpants in my mouth. And then I realised:

"Oh! These are not my pants!"

Oh, I can laugh about it now but, uh,

you know, back then... Shh!

What's that?

Move into position, over.

It's the police.

Yeah.

If you like canapés that are on the turn,

we've hit the motherload.

Oblong plate, square bowl.

Go figure. Whatever happened to circles?

I mean I've heard of a square meal, but that's ridiculous.

I was just saying I've heard of a square meal.

Alan! Alan! Shh.

Okay.

We think it's the police.

Wait.

That definitely came from in there.

Well, that's just a cupboard. It's not even an outside wall.

-Careful. -No, Jason, don't--

-Jason... Oh! -I'll protect you.

It's not an outside wall. Look, I'll show you. Look.

- Michael? - Aye, aye, Mister Partridge.

What are you hiding in there for?

Well, I found myself a place of concealment,

like when I was on manoeuvres.

Michael, take your light off. You're blinding everyone you speak to.

- Now it's flashing. - Oh, sorry.

Michael. You look like some sort of big Geordie Anne Frank.

-How long have you been here? -All night.

-What did you eat? -I had me lunch box.

- Where did you go to the toilet? - No.

I had me lunch box.

Thank God it's got a smoky finish with an airtight seal.

I tell you what. They're right, mate. It seals in the freshness.

No, Michael. It seals out the freshness.

What is going on in here?

Oh, Pat.

Michael's just visiting us from the cupboard.

No need to get shouty-shouty.

Did those Goredale bastards put you up to this?

-No. -No, no, no.

I-I-I've been in here a few nights, like.

-No, one night. -No, a few nights.

A few nights this week, few nights week before.

-Why? -Me brother wanted the bed to himself.

Ah, yes. Michael suffers from night terrors.

He thrashes about like a big salmon.

What's in the box?

Michael... Michael let himself down.

I'm really sorry. I done a shit in the box.

Well, get rid of it. Throw it out the window.

Fall back! Fall back!

Armed police! Identify yourself!

Alan Partridge. Who the f-- Alan Partridge!

You know who I am. I haven't been off the TV that long.

"Identify yourself."

Alan, it's okay, I'm here. You're safe.

Yeah, tell them to stop, tell them to stop pointing their guns at me.

Lower your weapons.

Yeah, lower your weapons.

Take your hand off your gun.

Take your hand off your gun. And the other hand.

I can wait here all day.

Do as he says.

Thank you. Why do you have to turn it into a competition?

Just because I won. Okay.

Okay. Stop. Pat, stop tugging me.

I told you I've got a very sensitive tummy. Okay?

Who are you talking to, Alan?

I've got Pat on the end of the line in both senses.

I'm tethered to the building via this tummy rope,

but I'm relaying messages from Pat

uh, via this state-of-the-art Sennheiser 1,000 head set. Nice bit of kit. Yeah,

I'm telling them that now. I've been...

If you'd listened, though, you'd know that I'm telling them.

All right. Pat says "Hi".

-Hi, Pat. -And hi to your fellow officers.

- Hi Pat. - Alan,

listen. Pat works with us here,

this can all end well. Okay? I give him my word.

Just... Yeah?

Okay. Pat, you've got to-- Yeah, no, you're rambling.

You've got, you've got to be more concise. Now, what do you want?

You know, "I want a helicopter."

That's just an example, by the way.

Yeah, Okay. He wants a helicopter.

That might not be possible, Alan.

But, uh, let's dialogue. What else can we do for him?

Pat says, "Fucking stupid pigs. What the hell's going on?"

Pat, listen to me. That was not an attack, okay?

We just had to dispose of a box around the corner in a controlled manner.

Pat would prefer it if you spoke through me,

a-as would I.

Martin says, uh, they deployed a remote RV,

fitted with a disruptor, to neutralise a suspected IED.

He doesn't know what you're talking about.

He's actually quite angry.

He's honking in my ear like a mad Irish goose.

We love you, Alan!

Do you, do you mind? It's not a radio road show.

- I'm trying to host a siege here. - We love you, Alan!

Get away.

Who said that?

- What's it like in there? - Uh...

Scary, stressful, lots of shouting.

A bit like being married again.

And there's a crazy person running around with a gun.

So it's a lot like being married again.

And uh...

when I saw a guy with a shotgun in his mouth begging for mercy then...

You're ahead, you're ahead of me. You're ahead of me. A lot of you are.

He's still got his hand on his gun. He thinks I don't know. Yeah, you.

I'm looking at you.

Peripheral vision, mate.

- Alan. - It's not, I'm not retreating,

- Pat's tugging me off. - Alan!

No, come on. Come on. We're better than that.

- Guys, seriously. - Alan, wait!

By the way, there's an extra hostage.

Meant to, meant to tell you that.

In a surprise development,

DJ Alan Partridge appeared outside the building, while tethered to a rope.

Footage of his address is already one of the most viewed YouTube

videos since "Fat Woman Falls Down Hole".

Mr Partridge, whose Facebook page

lists one of his interests as hand-to-hand combat,

has been acting as mediator between police and the hostage-taker, Pat Farrell.

As people around the world ask,

who is Alan Partridge?

That was a majestic voice.

You can keep Jesus. As far as I'm concerned,

Neil Diamond will always be King of the Jews.

You are listening to...

..the partridge and the poacher.

And, what I believe is a world first, I, Alan Partridge, a hostage,

broadcasting live from a siege at gunpoint.

Pure class, Alan.

And, uh, today, we'll be asking, "What was better in the olden days?"

Okay, Pat, shoot. I mean, you know, start speaking.

- Terry in Necton. - Egypt.

- I'm liking this. - They used to build the pyramids,

now they can't even get you a taxi to the airport.

Terry, I like the way you think.

- Please call again. - Will do.

Nicholas in Weybourne.

Nurses were better in the old days.

- Bull's-eye. - They used to be these

Florence Nightingale type figures.

These days it's just, you know, short-haired women in trousers

washing their own hands at a sink.

Okay, later on, I'll be asking which vegetable

has the greatest torsional strength -

i.e, which can withstand the greatest twisting load before rupture?

Caroline in Sprowston.

Beards were better

-in the olden days. -Love it!

- Sebastian in Holt. - UK manufacturing.

Good. Good, but dull.

Paul in East Runton.

Kill 'em all, Pat. And shoot the women first--

We'll also be asking, "Have you ever met a genuinely clever bus driver?"

I wonder what the listening figures are for this.

Yeah. Can you stop drumming?

Okay. Time for fact of the day.

Fact of the day.

Sponsored by Norfolk Dairies.

Cows don't have hymens.

Absolutely correct. Cows do not have hymens,

just a partially opened cervix. The time is 10:22.

Right now, to your muster stations. It's Bryan Ferry.

Ah! That, that was, that was, uh...

-Very good. -Yeah.

-Radio gravy. -Wow. Wow.

I suppose you forget about the gun after a while, don't you?

No, I don't.

-Okay. -Good.

Lynn! Lynn Benfield, can we have a word?

Oh. Alan doesn't like me speaking to the press.

-Oh, we're not press. We're television. -Well, I'm, I'm not really...

We've got hair and make-up.

Oh.

Back now to Norwich where DJ Alan Partridge continues

-to bring news of the radio... Uh, Angela?

-Someone wants a word with you.

Who?

-Him. -News just in: The tensions

on the Korean peninsula continue...

-Why? -to rise, following Kim Jong-il...

Oh, oh, shit.

...Vegas, and I was doing kind of well--

- Here is hearts... - We're cooked!

..for anyone's price range...

May did it...

...mounting tensions in North--

...my tongues fine--

Do you--

...chart--

Chubby--

..erectile dysfunction...

-Yeah-- -...zabbit--

-...pillow-- -...eat--

Inside the building,

-Partridge seems unfazed -Him.

-Me on TV. Good photo. -by the attention, trying instead

to calm the gunman by joining him in the studio.

Yes, just your, uh, basic disabled loo.

You've got your lowered seat pan, back pad,

-high-vis grab bar, panic cord, lady bin-- -Alan, calm down. You're being all hectic.

This is because you're on TV, isn't it? You're all puffed up like a robin.

It's like you can see in me.

Alan, you didn't bring me in here to talk about disabled toilet facilities, did you?

Yeah, I did. No, I didn't.

Oh, wow. Lynn, you look fantastic.

Good gracious.

I'm sorry about the nasal whistle. It's when I'm anxious.

You know... You know, you know, uh, "Shape - the way you want it to be"?

Yeah?

Well, your shape's the way I want it to be. I'm on about your body.

What might this be?

That... is my damned todger.

And it's all the fault of a certain Miss Angela...

I'm sorry, I don't know your second name.

He's very brave. He was once feeding

ducks in the park. One took a peck at him, and instead of retreating,

he hit it with the back of his hand. He just wrapped his--

-Hi. You got time for a quick wha-wha? -Hey.

-What? -Quick wah-wah.

You mean?

-Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. -Yes I, you just did a different noise.

Look, uh, how are you feeling about this whole media circus? How you feeling?

Between you and me, pretty puffed up, like an owl.

-Let's hope you're a wise one. -Nice.

I pitched it up, you knocked it out of the park.

-Synergy. Oh no, that's lesbians. -Let me tell you something, Alan.

As far as the press is concerned, you are the face of this siege.

-I am siege face. -Exactly.

After this, you'll get more offers than a whore at our Christmas party.

-I like that. Yeah, I like that. -Yeah.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. You'd know a thing or two about that, wouldn't you?

That would be-- "Hm-mm, yeah", he says. That's a moustache.

Seriously, did you, did you give her one?

Well, I, uh, I gave her a ruddy big kiss she won't forget in a hurry.

Hand on the outside of the bra. Uh, you know, reconnaissance.

And then I just held her in my arms, because she told me

she never knew her mother, and I said, "Well,

my mother raised me and lived to a ripe old age.

Uhm, but guess what? I never really knew her."

Uhm, and...

Uh, to get back on track, uhm...

Uh, yeah, I mean, yeah, whoo!

-I like you. -I like you.

He likes me, Lynn.

- Jason Tresswell likes me. - Is that you Alan?

- Are you okay? - I've got to be quick.

Pat only thinks I've borrowed his phone to play Angry Birds on the toilet.

Of course. What is it?

It's a computerised bird-throwing game.

-No, I meant-- -I'm joking, Lynn. Enjoy me.

Everyone else is. Goredale Media think I'm some sort of Christ 2.0.

Do you know, I'm within a brair's headth of getting the breakfast show.

I'm gonna myself the Morning Rooster, or the Talking Cock.

Alan, you're not thinking clearly.

Yes, I am. Lynn, I'll say this once and I'll say it again.

My career's getting a shot in the arm for this season.

If I can stay in here till the bitter end,

I will be the biggest thing to come out of Norwich since... Lord Nelson

or Trisha. I mean, think about that, Lynn. Think about what that means.

Your first priority should be the welfare of the hostages.

That's good. Put that out as a press release and say I said it.

Alan, your ego's getting the better of you.

I've just got to stay alert and focused.

I'm playing them like an oboe, Lynn.

How effed up is that?

Alan?

-Oh... -Alan?

For Christ's sake.

Not now. Oh, God.

I'm caught on the latch.

Oh, come on. Please.

Stop, armed police!

Get your hands above your head.

-I've just got... -Get your hands above your head!

-I just want to get those trousers. -Do it!

Get your hands above your head. Do it!

-They're my trousers. -Get your hands above your head now!

What are you doing? It's weird.

There are paparazzi all over the place

and I do not want them to get a photograph of my genitals.

Oh, come on!

That's it, look at me.

And how were the hostages when you left?

-Crouched. -I mean, what's their state of mind?

Oh, uh, if I'm honest, a bit moany. Yeah. Is someone writing this down?

-Yeah. -Sorry. I thought you were some clothes.

Thanks for the forensic trousers, by the way.

-Could you just, uhm...? -Oh, crikey. Yeah, sorry.

I was gonna, I was actually gonna fashion a sort of make-shift modesty sporran

from the vacant arm flaps.

Okay, I think we're done here.

Any chance o, uh, freshening up?

I just need to wipe my face with a big hot towel.

Presumably you wanna use me as part of your media strat?

No.

Do you agree?

-Hundred percent. -Gotcha.

The police said you could do media interviews when the siege is over.

It will be too late then, Lynn.

People move on. Goredale Media will move on.

But you're still being talked about.

Only cause every time I look at the telly, they're showing a picture of my arse.

It's all right for you. Every other time I look,

they're showing a picture of your face.

And then, the next time, surprise, surprise, my arse again.

I mean, I was only telling people about you.

You know, I was Goredale's golden goose, and now I'm just Partridge pie, with peas.

But why do you want to work for people like that?

-Goredale are bullies. -Yeah.

And what do you do with a bully, Lynn?

You make friends with the bully so they bully someone else.

"What doth it profit a man..."

Doth?

"...if he gains the whole world, yet loses his soul?"

- Matthew, chapter eight-- - Yeah, I know who wrote it.

I'm not gonna sell my soul, Lynn.

I want to, if you like, lend my soul, uh, to Goredale Media

on a long-term basis for cash. It's a very different thing.

I don't know how you can look yourself in the eye.

I can't, Lynn. My nose is in the way.

And you can talk, prattling away on every news bulletin.

I mean, who the heck do you think you are?

-I'm Lynn Benfield. -You don't look like Lynn Benfield.

I mean, what has happened to you,

you know, with your, with your attitude and your hair?

You've literally become a big head.

-I like it. -I take no pleasure in saying this, Lynn,

but a lot of people think it looks like a photograph of an explosion.

I don't know if I want to work for a man like you.

I don't know that I want to employ someone who looks like a madam.

And I don't mean a Parisian one,

I mean one who lives in a terraced house behind a train station.

Doors opening! Armed police! Armed police! Stay where you are!

- Shut up, will you? Stop shouting. - Easy, Pat.

-Mind the steps. -I'm able to walk down steps, all right?

I think he means because the gun's against my head.

- Everybody has an opinion, huh? - Hear, hear. Well said.

-Oh! -Hi, Pat.

Hey, Alan.

What happened? We were in the middle of a show,

the next thing your arse is all over the internet.

Looked like you had a turkey's head between your legs.

No, it didn't. No, it didn't. It doesn't have a beak.

And, yeah, I took an executive decision

to stow my cock and balls up against my backside.

I can't believe you left me with this nutcase.

Hang on a minute, you're the one with the gun, mate.

-See? He's hilarious. -He's solid. He's solid.

- Pizzas coming through now, Pat. - Hey. Hey, hey. Hold on. Helmet off.

Oh. Hello.

Actually, I-I want Alan to bring them in.

That might not be possible, Pat.

Alan's not prepared to do that.

No, I-I-I am prepared to do that.

It's not that simple, Pat.

Do you want me to release some people?

- Sure. Let's talk about that. - Alan,

what do you reckon if I let the women go?

Yeah, let a couple of the women go. Maybe keep Angela.

But her kids will be worried sick.

- She's got kids? - Yeah. Two boys,

fourteen and 15.

I believe they're a real handful.

Uh, yeah, what was I thinking? Let, let all the women go.

Okay. Pat, just give me five minutes with head office.

He's bringing them in now.

Alan, come on.

-Top one. -What?

-Top one. -Yeah, yeah, cheers, guys. Top one.

Okay, come on, son.

Oh, shit.

Why did you say hello to that delivery guy?

Oh, him? No, he just reminded me of a man I know called Mike Cable,

who did my accounts from '97 to '98. Actually, no, '99.

Uh, till he stopped, because his daughter was very ill.

Yeah, it was touch and go, actually, uh...

He and Sandra were in bits, they had to cancel their holiday.

It was a fly-drive to Tuscany.

I must tell him, actually,

that there's a policeman that looks just, just like him.

-What's that? -Must tell Mike that there's a pizza man

who looks just like him.

I'm famished.

- Ladies, you're free to go. - What?

Yep.

-God bless you, Pat. Bye. -See you. Bye.

I'll make you a home-made pizza when you get out.

Yeah, the, these pizzas are pretty good.

-Cinderella. -Yeah, well,

no, hers was, that was a glass one, wasn't it?

Here comes the Tin Man.

Just trying to find your pizza.

Well, just give me that one.

-Hm? -That one.

-Which one? -The top one.

Oh...

-I'll take the pizzas. -Oh, yeah. Yeah.

- Woo-ho, stuffed crust! - Thanks for coming back, Alan.

-Yeah. -What are you doing?

Oh, I'm just seeing how you'll look on the billboard

for when you start on The Breakfast Show.

The Breakfast Show?

Alan, can I have a word?

Yeah, sure. Just, uh, just bringing the pizza cutter.

Right, how many do you want. Six or eight?

Oh, my God, that's a taser!

This is no use, it's a pizza cutter.

And that is not a pizza.

Thing is, how did it get there?

Uhm, unless the pizza company are running some sort of competition

in which you win a taser.

That doesn't make sense, does it now? Do you realise, it's the police, isn't it?

The ruddy po-- Do you know-- God, they've got some brass neck

for a bunch of coppers. I'm actually really angry about that.

You should keep that as an extra weapon.

-Frankly, after the-- -What kind of fool do you take me for hey?

I'm one step ahead of all of you.

And I'm just a step behind you, mate.

Ooh.

Never take your eye off the ball, Pat.

First rule of business. Second rule of business,

always be prepared for an opportunity when it arises, like I was just then.

- Yeah. - Course I wouldn't expect you

to understand that.

It's Darwinian.

You're a runt.

Is that what you think, Alan?

I wouldn't quite, you know, use those words. Well, I think, I think...

The sort of the gist of what, you know...

I just don't like bullies.

Uhm, can I take this off, please?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.

No, I'm talking to him.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

- Yeah, go ahead. - Thank you.

Are you all right?

Well, I was worried about the old head, but I think I've got a handle on it.

Very witty.

Alan's a smart cookie, Pat.

He's treated this whole crisis like a business opportunity.

He's taken a look around him and he's thought,

"How can I make this work for me?"

-Well done, Alan. -Cheers.

Yeah, well done, Alan.

Thank you.

You know, you and me, we've got something going here.

Pat might be a dinosaur, filling his show with chit-chat

and phone-ins like it's 1983, but you're one of us.

You know radio's just business. You'll do well out of this.

And uh, I'll get you

a glamorous assistant with big tits to take over from that frumpy old cow

you've got at the moment. You know, Mrs fucking Doubtfire.

Danny, uh, Jason gave me your breakfast show. Yeah.

-Is that true? -Well...

Twat.

Oh, my God.

Go! Go! Go!

Armed police! Armed police! Everybody stay down!

-Stay down! Don't move! Don't move! -Have you got any scissors?

Have you got any scissors?

Armed police! Armed police!

Studio's empty. Where's Farrell? Where's Partridge?

Get into position, get in front of that bus!

Right. We got three on a bus.

Three on a bus. I want a green light on a sniper now.

This cannot be happening.

Jeez, Alan. Look at this. Quite alarming, isn't it?

Uh, I think, I think we'll be fine.

Thanks for doing this, Alan.

I just wanted to stick it to Goredale one more time.

I don't mind in the slightest, Pat. Goredale are tits.

Right, coppers, I've got nae tax,

nae insurance and I'm not wearing a seatbelt.

What are you going to do about it this time?

- Start the car! Start the car! - Let's go!

Right...

let's give them some stick.

You're listening to Pat and Alan

with a message for the Goredale Medias of this world.

If you think you can take

real Djs and turn them into radio robots,

think again, because we're gonna get up in your face.

-Great. -With a big fat slice of road show radio

right here, right now. The time is 1:27.

This is John Farnham and "The Voice".

Today we'll be asking, "Why do people

keep their eggs in the fridge?"

Once again, "Why do people insist on keeping their eggs in the fridge?"

Uh, oh, and, "Can a binman reasonably expect a Christmas tip

when he has point-blank refused to dispose of a broken toaster?"

- Good question! - And that can be today's

large question.

Large question.

Oh, and we have some travel news. There's slow-moving traffic on the A149.

That'll be due to wacky blokes on a big yellow bus.

It's competition time, and we're playing pairs.

- Sid on line two. Black and... - Decker.

-Spick and... -Span.

-Hall and... -Oates.

-Egg and... -Uh, bacon.

Oh! It was gammon!

Can I just say, I think Goredale are awful.

Yeah, they are bastards.

Pat, that's why I've washed my hands of them.

You know what I always say?

I always say, "What doth it profit a man

if he gain the whole world, yet lose his soul?"

And people seem to like that. They really do.

It looks like you've touched a nerve, Pat.

These are my listeners, Alan, ordinary working people.

Yeah, well, they're not working, it's the middle of the day.

Unless they're on flexi-time.

Oh. Look. Uh, I used to live in one of those after my divorce.

TV, kitchen - very nice.

Hey, people, I'm looking at a picture of Goredale Media.

Honestly, look at that bunch of corporate mercenaries.

Yeah, what's wrong with doing radio for the love of radio?

They would do anything for 30 pieces of silver.

You're listening to the Pat and Alan Show.

Radio for the love of radio.

Sponsored by Castrol.

Just gonna use the loo.

-Alan? -Hi.

Alan, I want to talk to you.

Alan?

Oh, hi, Pat.

Alan, how did you even get in there?

Uhm, I just removed an aluminium panel. Slid straight in.

Uh, textbook. It's good, isn't it?

Your voice sounds funny.

I think the conical shape of the toilet's turned it

into a sort of a compact amphitheatre.

-It's weird. -It is, Pat. It's bizarre.

It is and was a failed escape attempt,

a sort of a Shitshank Redemption, if you will.

The Armitage Shank Redemption, hey?

I'm laughing like a drain, Pat, and I'm in one. Shake hands, Pat. Friends.

Friends, Pat, friends.

Friends? I know what you did, you fucking snake.

"Just sack Pat." Huh?

-You're as bad as the rest of them. -Pat, be reasonable.

Before you think of shooting anyone, just for a second think,

what would drive a man to incarcerate himself in a septic tank?

It's actually pathetic.

I'm not gonna shoot you.

Thank God for that. That's good news.

Sweet mother of God, no.

Angels and saints preserve us! Dear God, let them be firm!

Help!

Stop the bus!

-What's that? -It's a septic tank.

You can have it.

Oh! Not again!

Damn gypsies tampered with the sights.

Trust me, Susan.

Jesus!

Suspect is on Cromer...

You're a fucking clown, Alan.

Hi, Pat.

I trusted you, Alan.

I thought we were friends.

But you let me down.

-Well, I, I-- -You got me sacked.

Over here! Pat! Look!

Oh shit!

What was that?

I think it was supposed to be some sort of distraction. Yeah.

Brave but pointless.

-Excuse me? -Oh God, get back inside. Quick, now!

We want to get down there.

Do you mind? This is an armed stand-off. Where were we?

I got you sacked.

- Yeah, you let me down. - Pat, listen to me.

-I've got this. -Pardon?

I said, I've got this.

How long is it going to go on for?

-Shut up! -He's telling you to shut up.

Didn't even get that.

-It's too close to your mouth. -Calm down.

It's too close to your mouth!

-Did you get that? -Did I get what?

She's saying, that if you put your air rifles back,

you won't be in too much trouble.

-This is a shotgun. -This is an air rifle. That's a shotgun.

We'll leave you to it.

I surrender.

Pat?

Pat?

I brought Molly to this pier.

Happy times.

I scattered her ashes here.

Oh.

Buried at sea.

Like Bin Laden.

And now here we are.

The circle of life.

Cirque du Soleil.

Turn your head away.

Okay, let's calm down.

-Now come on. -Turn your head away.

Pat, listen to me...

Pat, you're scaring me.

- I won't ask again. - Pat, I need you to stay calm.

Turn your head away.

What are you doing?

Stop it!

Shut up, you dick!

Pat, what are, what are you doing?

What?

I want to be with Molly.

- Pat, don't do this. - Pat, don't do this!

Unbelievable.

-I can't reach the trigger. -Pat, come on.

Would you do it for me?

Yeah, course I will, mate.

Of course I will.

It's over, Pat.

No more hurting.

You fucking idiot!

Shit.

Stay with me, Alan. Stay with me.

They've blown me to bits, Lynn.

I feel cold.

It's all right, Alan. God is with us.

We had some mad times, didn't we, Lynn?

There's some blood coming from my mouth, Lynn.

It's just spit.

Is it? Oh yeah.

-Alan, I'm really sorry. -It's all right, Pat.

You've still got the gun!

Was I a good man, Lynn? Was I a kind man?

Very kind.

I remember when you were defrosting your freezer

and you gave me all that bacon.

I'm ready, Lynn.

I think, I think I'm ready.

Hello, Mister Seagull.

Have you come to take my spirit away?

Go, gull!

Gull, gull, gull.

What are you doing? I'm watching it fly off.

It's weird, Lynn.

Yours will be the last face I ever see.

-Oh, good. -Hi, there. You're gonna be okay.

I've been shot in the heart.

Your heart's there. That's your shoulder.

No, that, that's my heart.!

Can I have my job back now?

Yeah, if you want.

How long have you been a paramedic?

- About four years. - Right. And do you start

in St John's Ambulance and then work your way up

or are they separate organisations?

- They're separate organisations. - She can answer for herself, Lynn.

They are separate organisations.

- Right. Are you courting at the moment? - Well...

Not you, Lynn!

North Norfolk Digital: North Norfolk's best music mix.

Uh, we've had a letter from Louise in Thetford, who says,

"I'm sick to the back teeth of people poking fun at garden gnomes.

They may be small and strange-faced,

but they bring a lot of pleasure to a lot of people."

Now, that's a letter, once upon a time I would have found offensively dull.

-Yeah. -Not now.

So maybe everything that happened has changed you.

I think I have changed a little bit.

Well, for my part, I was a bit worried about my head,

-Here we go. -But, uhm...

-I think I've got a handle on it now. -Oh yeah, that's a good joke.

You've used that joke about three or four times now.

-I don't know if you're aware of that. -You think I use it too much.

I wouldn't say that. I just think we're in that area and, uh, you know...

-What about the hat? -Good for the bin, I reckon.

-Lose it? -Yeah.

Uh, but I think, like you say, you're coming on leaps and bounds,

uhm, and I think, you know, in 12 months' time,

you'll probably have forgotten there ever was a siege.

-What siege? -Uh, exactly. That's good.

-You haven't really forgotten, have you? -No.

Okay, time now for our regular weekly phone call

with incarcerated DJ Pat Farrell. It's...

Hello, Pat. Wagwan!

Uh, hi Alan.

Okay, this week's question comes from Sue, a dental hygienist from Grantham.

She asks, "Prison time is often referred to as porridge,

but", she says, "do they actually serve porridge, and if so, is it compulsory?"

Well, yeah, they serve porridge, but you can have other things.

Thanks, Pat. We'll have another question for you next week, until then...

Keep your nose clean, boy.

Uh, Colby, Philip? If you guys don't dig the sounds,

sling us your pod, I'll dock it.

You won't like it.

Guys, I dig a lot of stuff.

A good beat's a good beat.

Sorry, not listening to that.

Oh, for God's sake, if it's that important...

Sorry, that is awful.

Loud as a crowd or soft as a doubt

Lyrically weak, but the music's the thing