Original subtitles

This programme contains some strong language

Welcome to This Time.

Jesus Christ. Well, we do need to hear viewers...

I am hopping mad, and I want something in the middle!

I don't like Julian Fellowes! Just don't like him!

Is it snowing where you are?

Do you like fireworks?

What's your favourite soup?

Who gives a shi...?

When I parted ways with the BBC, after delivering a few home truths,

people thought it was the end of the road.

They could not have been more wrong.

I'm Alan Partridge, and when I want a proper breakfast, I head down

to one of the six Hungry House pubs in the North Norfolk region.

For a limited time only, there's 20% off all breakfast items.

So that's steak, egg and chips, six-nine-nine.

Sausage, eggs and chips, five-nine-nine.

Gammon, egg and chips, four-nine-nine.

Gammon and egg, three-nine-nine.

Egg and chips, two-nine-nine.

Here I am lending my voice to Hungry House pubs,

in exchange for a hefty fee plus VIP card

entitling the bearer to a free breakfast for him and four friends.

We've got Carling, four-nine-nine, Carlsberg, four-nine-nine,

Fosters, four-nine-nine, Strongbow, four-nine-nine,

John Smith's, four-nine-eight,

and special offer just this week, Carlsberg, wine AND eggs,

for an unbeatable nine-nine-nine.

Whether you like them scrambled, poached, fried, boiled,

broiled, coddled, or runny,

get there before 8.00am and you can get an extra egg free

worth nine-nine. The early bird gets the egg!

Good? Happy? Great!

Although better known as a TV presenter,

I don't actually do that any more, but find a steady stream

of Norfolk-based corporate work just as fulfilling.

That's one of the most information-laden scripts

I've read in quite some time, so pass the best on to the copywriter,

he's got a great future ahead of him. Yes, he has, yes.

Lots of information. Great energy to it.

So, as you can see, life is good.

Shouldn't it be, "The early bird gets the worm"?

Or, "The early bird LAYS the egg."

Yes, I was thinking that, but not our problem.

It's not our problem, you're right...

And yet something is bothering me.

Allow me to explain.

Britain is being pursued by an invisible enemy

from which there is no escape.

Like a bad dream, it's as if we're running in slow motion,

even though we can actually run quite fast.

No-one is safe from the invisible monster they call mental health.

Stress is weighing you down...

You're troubled by anxiety...

Always in a mood.

It's unbelievable!

For many of us, mental health is as far down the agenda

as the whole sex change debate, but Britain is in crisis.

Without swift action, our minds will...

Egg.

..implode, and yet no-one has done anything about it...

..until now.

Which is why... Ow!

..in Britain's first-ever documentary about mental health...

Mental health.

..I'm stopping...

Go!

..crouching down, and asking, "How are you? It's Alan Partridge."

In association with Flench & Son Tanning Centres,

for a different kind of brown.

So why me, and why now?

Promoting mental health might not be cool or trendy,

but I happen to believe in using my platform to help others.

A staunch ally of the persecuted, I champion women,

and genuinely believe that black lives matter.

Only declining to take the knee on the advice of my physio...

..and all of my friends.

Right back behind the barrier.

And I support other minorities too,

by volunteering at a local fox hunt for Sir Robert Peverel.

It's not a public right of way, it is a permissive walkway.

The only reason you're allowed here is because Sir Robert has kindly

allowed you. What, is he a mate of yours? No, I've never met him.

So what are you bigging him up for?

Let the horses and hounds through, please.

Because fox hunters are a minority too,

whose religion is to stop foxes murdering chickens

by using dogs to murder foxes.

Where's your TV career? It's...

HE STAMMERS

Behind the barriers, please.

And there'll be those who carp and criticise,

saying a man like me has no business discussing mental health.

I mean, sure, on the face of it my life is pretty great.

I've got a large house, good local name recognition,

and my partner Katrina is one of the fittest women over 40 in Norfolk.

As seen here in this photoshoot for Norfolk Life Magazine.

And yet even I am not immune.

Scratch beneath my surface and the picture changes.

Today, bravely, I can reveal that I too have mental health problems.

Problems that erupted six months ago

in the most public forum imaginable.

For four years, it's been my honour to host the annual sales event

of the most revered name in Norfolk agribusiness.

Imagine the future now.

Imagine a new horizon.

One that dares to ask,

"Are we giving our animals the nourishment they deserve?"

Welcome to Bannroyd Pig and Cow Feed.

Yeah! Come on! Come on!

In the world of high-volume feed pellets,

these guys are the best of the best.

..enhancing overall carcass quality.

No pigs grow bigger than Bannroyd pigs.

Conventional feed introduces nitrogen in an animal's waste,

poisoning our soil.

But what if amino acids could be introduced?

Sorry, can I just stop you there for a second?

Is anyone here actually deaf?

Yeah, I mean, it's pretty...

Yeah, it's... As I thought.

Thank you, but go.

Reaching a live audience of 100, and an online audience of thousands,

it is one of the most illustrious presenting opportunities

in UK media.

Claire, if your father could see you now,

as you pledge to phase out completely the feeding

of animals to other animals by 2065, he would be proud of you.

This woman! This woman!

She makes butchers happy.

And as I began the event's set piece interview...

What a year in store for Bannroyd.

..it was clear I was doing my job well...

When I hear about how excited the management team are,

it's infectious.

And I don't mean like foot and mouth or BSE,

but certainly a kind of bird flu of enthusiasm.

..until out of the blue, I fainted...

Alan?

..twice.

Within hours, I'd become a figure of fun,

with a Thai YouTuber even referring to me as Ladylapfaintman.

I was told by a St John's Ambulance man,

who was well below average height, that it was low blood sugar,

and in my confusion, I found myself going along with the little fella.

I only had one Weetabix this morning.

But as the days went by, something began to dawn on me -

I HAD eaten breakfast that day.

I'd had bacon, bread and beans, and butter,

and having recently passed a medical exam at a canoeing centre

with flying colours, I knew I was in good shape.

There was only one plausible explanation -

I had a mental health problem.

My mind is not feeling very well.

The stinging nettle -

a reminder that whilst some baulk at the idea of us confronting

our mental health crisis, others believe we need to be bolder.

For, like the nettle, if we brush lightly against it,

we're liable to get stung.

But if we have the courage to grasp the nettle... Urgh!

..then we'll all be better off.

And I intend to start by grasping the stingiest nettle of all

as I ask how big is the UK's mental health crisis?

And where better to start than on the streets of the only city

I love more than Dubai?

It's Norwich.

Are we rolling?

Oh, hello, ladies. Can I ask you a question? Are you happy?

Very happy, thank you.

Right. And are you happy?

Yeah, I think so. And are you happy? I know you.

We were at school together.

I'm not sure about that.

I was in the year above you.

I don't... And you asked me out.

No, I didn't. I wouldn't ask you out.

Do you know? I've a good mind to say yes this time.

HE STAMMERS

I never asked you out.

Oh, but to answer your question, yes, I'm quite happy.

I've just got a brand-new granddaughter.

Great. She keeps me busy.

I'm sure she does. I mean, it keeps your occupied in your retirement.

Yeah, it does.

I never asked you out. Thanks...

And yet I wasn't sure these women were telling the truth

about being happy...

I didn't ask you out.

..because, as these "tastistics" clearly show,

mental health problems are on the rise.

Plus, we already know that she lied about me asking her out.

Instead, I'm off to the other side of Norwich, where,

having cancelled an ear de-waxing appointment,

I'm going to hear the views of another group of people.

Express your opinions openly. It should be fun.

I host focus groups every few weeks.

Be rude if you want to be rude.

It's both a favour to my friend Max, who runs Inquisimax Market Research,

and a fascinating window into the minds of the kind of people

who happily eat £2 ready meals.

Janice, I know you're dying to say something.

Yeah, you see, for me, a carton that size, I'd want,

oh, six or seven chunks of chicken at least.

Yeah. Mm. I mean, I had three.

Three?! I mean, three chunks of chicken in a chicken korma

isn't really acceptable. Yeah, no, I'll tell them.

And you can tell 'em that. I just said I would.

So far, we have, "too salty," "needs salt," "would eat again,"

"microwave broken, ate cold,"

and Janice, yours... simply, simply, "more chunks."

But today, I'm not just here for the curry.

It's time to talk mental health.

Erm, I want to park that for a second.

New topic to ponder - mental health.

Does anyone here ever feel sad, despondent...?

Just to go back to that chicken korma just for a minute, though,

I do actually have one more bit of feedback...

I consider it a privilege to hear the views of ordinary people,

whether about a subject you've already moved on from,

or the one you've just asked about.

And from the latter group, there are some notable observations.

So, anyone got any other ideas, apart from Janice,

about how we might assuage those negative feelings?

Colin? Makes me want a drink.

What's brought this on?

It's too salty.

Still talking about the ready meals? Yeah. Yeah, no, we've moved on.

We're talking about mental health now.

OK, how do we feel now? Are there any useful takeaways?

The Kebab Shack in the high street.

No, I mean about what we've been discussing.

You've got to learn to cook for yourself, Janice. Buy a pan.

How ARE you?

I put this in the larder.

Leave it. It's porcelain.

It's porcelain? It's cheap glazed clay made by Chinese children.

Next morning with my assistant,

and we take stock of what my programme is trying to achieve,

although she has no editorial input whatsoever,

and is content to only join in nonverbally.

I'm very excited about the, erm,

this documentary, because mental health, I mean,

if I can use an outdated, outmoded term, it's just gone mental.

Mm-hm.

But in my quest to understand the scale of the mental health crisis,

I'm off to spend time among a group who suffer from it more than most.

It's funny, most presenters would run a mile if you asked them

to visit the homeless, which I think is how Sport Relief started.

Yet I'm volunteering at a local soup kitchen to see up close,

from behind a counter, what life is like for those who live free-range.

Five years ago, I agreed to help out one evening a month

at this soup kitchen.

And whilst I've had to cancel on each occasion,

due to unforeseen circumstances,

I send along my assistant instead, and I do so free of charge.

The homeless get a warm feeling from the soup,

I get a warm feeling from having seconded my assistant,

and I dare say she gets something from it too.

Have you come far?

And so, after putting on an apron using the spin, tuck, and tie

technique favoured by both the US Army Catering Corps

and horrible Gregg Wallace, it was down to work.

You homeless?

Have some soup.

You homeless?

Have some soup.

Are you homeless?

A little bit of soup.

What are you doing? Yeah, I'm just trying to weed out the blaggers.

You can just serve the soup.

Yeah, I mean, I saw a guy over there in a North Face jacket.

Yeah, but he could've got it from a charity shop. Open your eyes, mate.

Jews believe chicken soup can cure depression, and so I was

as keen as anyone to get soup, albeit not chicken, to these men,

even though my last experience cooking in front of the cameras

on a reality TV show had really upset me.

Where is the chicken? How long is the chicken?

20 inches.

The time! How long is the chicken?

Oh, two... Two minutes.

There's no dill on it. Alan, there's no dill on these.

Forgot what dill looks like.

Where is the dill? I've forgotten what dill looks like!

So what better place to get back on the horse than in this kitchen?

Every night, the people who eat here leave warm, content,

and full of soup.

But the soup isn't going to win any awards,

unless there's an award for largest amount of soup.

My ex-wife used to punish me using food.

She'd make her feelings known by serving me soup and a glass of water

instead of chicken and wine.

And this soup reminds me of her punishment soup.

But here's a trick that can really lift the soup.

Pour in two pints of milk,

and then crumble in three Oxo-style chicken cubes.

Hey presto, you've got cream of chicken soup, or near as damn it.

Add a bit of crunch, peanuts.

Bash them to bits while they're still in the bag.

Use anything. A rolling pin, the nearest hammer.

If you've got a tramp's shoe, use that.

Add that in, give it a stir, hey presto again,

now you've got cream of chicken pad Thai-style soup.

Karl, come here, taste this.

Mm! Mm, that's good. I like that.

Mm.

Is that peanut?

Right, has anyone got a peanut allergy?

I do.

Right, you can't have any soup.

Yeah. I mean, you're welcome to stay,

but you must not have any of this soup.

Erm...

..yeah, you can help yourself to a banana sandwich.

You can have two slices, and we'll allow you a fork to mash the 'nana.

I mean, there's another soup kitchen in Ipswich.

Have you got a ca...? No, no.

If you run, I mean, it's about 45 minutes, but I'd go now.

In fact, you... Leave, leave now.

Leave right now.

How ARE you?

How are you?

It's the next morning, and I'm relaxing at my

health and racquets club with the woman I love.

Mine! No, mine! OK!

We make a good team.

I'm a laid-back easy-osey kind of guy...

Mine! No, mine! OK!

..whereas she has a Latin temperament,

even though she's from Cheshire.

Sorry. Sorry.

But what she doesn't suffer from are mental problems,

in her view, because she's not feeble.

Mine! No, mine! OK!

Out in the wider world, though, it was becoming clear that

the problem is rampant, and finding ways to de-stress is crucial.

Me? I like to come to Norwich Market, to finger its fresh produce,

wander its alleyways or, today,

buy costumes for an Irish friend's fancy dress party.

How much for two balaclavas?

They're the IRA ones.

I often think if everywhere had a Norwich Market,

there'd be a damn sight fewer mad people.

You're listening to North Norfolk Digital.

Yeah. I used to be on this station.

It's Carl Branning now. Yeah. This was my show, actually.

And his sidekick, Simon Denton, he was my sidekick.

Oh. Carl's very good.

Oh, yeah. Very talented.

Got a lot of time for Carl.

I mean, he's had his personal issues,

but never exposed himself on webcam to ME.

That's delicious. He's very entertaining.

Mm. Yeah.

Yeah, got his penis out.

Very smoky.

I'd had a wonderful morning at a wonderful market.

All right, Rupert?

Rupert? It's Alan. Alan Partridge.

You're confusing me with someone else.

If we are suffering from a mental health epidemic,

it ain't round here.

Lynn, how quickly can you get to Norwich Market?

I don't know how it happened. HE SIGHS

I've accidentally dressed like Rupert the Bear.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with looking like what, for me,

is the best British cartoon bear.

Because, while Paddington's an illegal immigrant,

and Winnie-the-Pooh wears a T-shirt but no underpants,

which raises obvious safeguarding concerns,

Rupert simply looks like a West End actor.

Alan Partridge is proud to be associated with Rupert the Bear.

With Britain's mental health crisis so vast,

how can anyone hope to tackle the issue?

As I wandered my garden to record stock footage

that could be inserted at any point to cover voiceover,

I wondered if I should start closer to home.

Instead of asking the nation, "How are you?"

how about asking myself, "How are I?

"How am I?"

I like to come up here sometimes just to... decompress.

It's where I keep keepsakes, mementos, personal items,

which, after my death, will be donated to the National Archive.

There's... some soppy, daft stuff, really.

A picture there by my grandchildren.

Not very good, but they're good at maths.

That's a box of... containing letters between myself and my ex-wife Carol.

But, if you notice, I snapped the key off in the lock,

so I can't access it.

But nothing against Carol, just a toxic box.

This is a pay cheque, my first pay cheque from the BBC.

I won't let you see the amount,

but I do remember at the time thinking it was quite a lot

of money, because I was able to buy fish and chips for four people.

They bought their own drinks.

This is me and Sue Cook.

Me and Sue Cook's brother.

Oh, this is interesting, this is a showreel.

This is a collection of my voiceovers that I would send out

to people as a sort of calling card.

Just...

Not heard this for years.

Brian's Autos.

It's the finest garage in Dudley.

Brummie accent.

It's important to show your vocal range.

CARIBBEAN MUSIC PLAYS

Get the taste of sunshine, man.

Albeit different times.

I'm not sure you'd get away with that now.

ASIAN MUSIC PLAYS

O-o-o-h!

TAPE STOPS

This is interesting.

This is the headset I wore when I was a DJ at North Norfolk Digital.

It's technically still their property, I think.

But, er, yeah, left under a bit of a cloud.

Not quite sure what happened. But, er...

It's new management, change of direction.

It's funny how putting on just a simple object like this

provokes so many emotions.

This is a good documentary.

As former DJ on North Norfolk Digital's Mid Morning Matters,

I was sounding board, listing post, and agony uncle

to the whole of the Norfolk region.

North Norfolk region.

And now time for something we call Rash Decision.

Rash Decision.

Your medical ailments answered.

Once again, Dr Andy can't be with us,

but please do keep sending in your pictures of rashes.

Simon and I both have access to Google Images

and will provide a layman's view of exactly what the ailment is.

And a reminder - our diagnoses have no medical basis.

Yes, indeed. Let's look at some rashes.

You're a first-aider. I am, indeed, sir.

But you haven't given first aid. No.

Even when that woman collapsed.

Do you think you were in shock?

I think I probably was. Yeah. Yeah.

First is from Heidi Trenth-am, or is it Tren-tam?

Trenth-am. Trenth-am Gardens.

Well, it's Tren-tam Gardens. Tren-tam Gardens.

So what are you saying?

Heidi... Does it matter?

No!

Er, Heidi Trentham has a foot rash.

It's raised, dry, scaly, wine-coloured.

She says it does itch. For this one, I thought psoriasis.

I thought psoriasis myself, or potentially eczema.

Yeah. Yeah, Heidi, you're going to need a cream of some sort.

I would pop down to Boots, show them your foot.

Get your boots off. Yeah, in Boots.

Which is why I said it. Ha-ha! Number five is Maureen Skipp.

Interesting rash. I thought it most resembled this one...

Yes. ..which would be a heat rash.

Although the raised hives tell me it could be an allergy.

Well spotted.

Much like the rash. Yeah.

Maureen, I'd say don't have milk or bread, er...

..any more. Yeah.

Finally, number six, Geoff in Holt.

Big red circle.

Simon? Lyme disease.

And I've got the same. Got to be.

I'm proud of Rash Decision,

and should look back at my tenure fondly,

and yet my memories of North Norfolk Digital are dogged

by the souring of one important friendship.

I realise now I'll never be able to find mental peace

unless I do something about it.

Hello. What's your name?

Jo. Hello, Jo.

I borrowed a head mic for a school sports day, which I'm here to

return, and I'm here to see a friend of mine, Sidekick Simon.

Sidekick?

Simon Denton?

Oh, yeah, Simon. Yeah, he's on air right now.

Right. What did you call him?

Sidekick Simon. That was his name when we worked on the show together.

Oh, you used to work here?

Er, I was only the face and backbone of the station

for the best part of ten years.

And I in fact had a 1% stake holding in it,

which I sold for five grand, which I reinvested at a 20% stakeholding

in a DVD rental company, which has since folded due to market forces.

If you work behind reception a station like NND,

probably a good idea to brush up on your history.

And who shall I say is here?

Me.

I'm going to need a name.

Alan Partridge.

Great. Could you just sign here, please?

Just going to grab a coffee.

Oh, if you just take a seat, someone will be round.

I'm just going to grab a coffee.

♪ Rupert, Rupert the Bear... ♪

These days, Simon sidekicks alongside Carl Branning.

This is CB Radio.

I've got a lot of time for Carl.

He's had his personal issues,

but away from train station bathrooms, he's a perfect gentleman.

Now it's time for Wrong Answers Only. Love this.

You ask the question, Simon gives the wrong answer.

Diane, you're on line one.

What does BMI stand for?

Bring me ice cream.

Love it.

Ice cream's two words.

Hailey, line four.

What Irish dancer was once named the best male dancer in the world?

Prince Andrew.

Oh, that was a bad answer.

He knows it. Look.

His throat will get dry.

He'll dehydrate, see.

There you are, there he goes.

Yeah. His skin will get itchy now, watch.

There you go.

See? He knows when he's fucked up.

Quick swipe of the schnozz.

Textbook.

I barely recognise the place. So much has changed.

Look at that water cooler.

Blue Stream.

That used to be, erm...

..Aquatic. Yeah.

SO much has changed!

That's a new flip chart.

Those CDs are new.

He didn't work here.

I did. Studios weren't down there.

Mine was... Mine's here.

What?

They turned my studios into a men's toilet.

There's a man in there taking a dump where I used to broadcast.

Not much has changed, then, has it?

Which is the joke I was about to make.

You didn't, though! Clever clogs.

I'll have you know, I won Leonard Cheshire Homes

Radio Companion of the Year 2017 and 2018, two years in a row,

first time anyone had done it outside of London.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Now, come here and give us a half-hug, you bloody bugger.

Yeah, I loved what I heard, though. Yeah.

Yes, well, Mr Branning likes to keep the pace up.

Slightly less leisurely than back in our day, bit more peppy.

Do you not think peppy is more of a breakfast thing?

You know all that research that says retirees get a headache

before lunch and prefer the radio a bit more gentle. Right.

It was good to see my erstwhile sidekick again.

Good to see him back in fine fettle after a complete breakdown,

when his girlfriend moved to Coventry to study linguistics.

I was told you threw a brick at a swan.

Mm-hm, a goose. Goose. Yeah.

Yeah, I mean, if you ever want to talk about anything,

all you've got to do, pick up the phone, mate.

I know. It's that easy. I know. WhatsApp, FaceTime.

As long as it's not, you know, a landline before 6.00pm,

then we can talk till the cows come home.

Yeah, I know.

I know we can.

Yeah, you sit there. Sit yourself down, sir.

Sidekick Simon had been a moderately good broadcaster,

and an even better friend,

but our fruitful working relationship had gone mouldy.

In May 2022, after he ignored an amusing text message about a cat,

we broke friends.

Today, I want us to get things off our chest, to help us both,

but mainly me.

Memories. Yep.

Like the corner of my mind, misty water-coloured memories...

Barbra Streisand. Let me finish.

..of the way we were.

Barbra Streisand.

How did we get from the way we were to the way we are?

Because we locked horns. Oh, God, yeah.

We were like two stags, weren't we, going at it?

Yeah, mm, and I think there are still troubled waters.

And we're going to build a bridge...

And IT'S TIME to build a bridge...

..over troubled waters.

..over troubled WATER.

Today, I'm going to invite you to try the "I feel" technique.

Oh, I think I know this. Let me explain it.

Erm, to avoid rancour, I might say to my milkman,

"When you clank bottles early in the morning,

"I feel uncared for sleep-wise,"

and then he can respond in kind.

It's a simple but surprisingly powerful technique.

Yeah, no, I do know this. Do you? Yes. Yes.

It's like the guy on YouTube said -

"it's a simple but surprisingly powerful technique."

He even does that. Yeah.

Well, this... I read this in a book, so... Oh, did you? Mm, yeah.

OK. Which book? Cos I'm looking into self-help a bit as well.

It's by Dr Bristol. Dr Bristol...

Sorry, Bridge. Dr Bristol.

Dr Bristol Bridge, in... who lives in Texas.

I... i... i... i...

In America. In America. Yeah, yeah. Right.

Shall I begin? Yes, I invite you to.

When you criticise me on air, I feel belittled.

Mm. When you complain about feedback, I feel hurt,

because I'm only trying to help you.

Right. Well, when you say feedback

but then reel off a lot of quibbles you have with me, I feel attacked.

Yeah. When you describe major flaws in your broadcasting

style as quibbles, I feel you're not taking the listener seriously.

When you talk about the listeners,

I feel like you're hiding behind them, in order to say

a lot of petty gripes that have been bothering you that day.

When you describe my gripes as petty,

I feel like you're being a dick, and it hurts my feelings.

When you call me a dick, I want to tell you to fuck off

and say that when you worked here, no-one at the station liked you.

When you use bad language and lie,

I feel like I shouldn't have given you the day off when your dad died.

Er, great, really useful technique.

Sort of keeps a lid of things emotionally,

but, you know, really good. It's constructive.

It gets the endorphins going.

Ooh, yes, gets them dolphins going.

Well, do you know what? Endorphins are a bit like them dolphins,

aren't they?

This is good banter.

They'll probably ask us to strike up the partnership,

recreate the old magic. Yeah.

Yeah? Why, has anyone said anything?

No. OK. No-one's said a word.

All right!

The human mind is a swirling mass of negativity,

besieged as we are by critics, bullies, and liars.

But today hope, for a journey that began in a woman's lap

has reached a watershed moment.

Like footage played backwards, I have begun to feel

long-held anxieties retreat and canter into the distance.

And, for the time being at least,

I am now the very picture of contentment.

So I'll ask you again.

How ARE you?

SOFT GROWL

♪ Rupert, Rupert the Bear

♪ Everyone sing his name

♪ Rupert, Rupert the Bear

♪ Everyone come and join

♪ In all of his games

♪ Rupert

♪ Rupert... ♪