Original subtitles

Hello, Mr Muckle.

Have you lost something?

Ah, Miss Hawthorn. I was just looking for my daughter, Milly.

But she's not in the milking parlour.

I thought I saw her by the old Dutch barn,

but I may be mistaken. The old barn?

What on earth would she be doing there?

LIPS SMACK

Oh, Jethro!

MORE LIP SMACKING

Oh, Milly!

What am I going to tell Father?

Tell him that we're in love, and there's nothing 'e can do.

The crabby old mucudgeon... er, curmudgeon.

METAL SQUEAKS

LOUD FOOTSTEPS

Milly! I thought you'd put an end to this wretched tryst.

It's not a tryst, Daddy.

We're getting married.

MUSIC BEGINS

You have been listening to The Muckles,

an everyday story of farming folk.

The radio newsreel follows shortly.

Here he is! How was it for you, Kenny? Another winner?

Well, it should work. Once we put a symphony under it.

As you know, recently, the press have been less than kind to us,

saying it's high time the show was humanely slaughtered.

I try not to read those reviews.

Unfortunately, I have to.

But I've found a way to make the show a bit more authentic.

We're going to spend a week in the country,

see the landscape that inspired The Muckles.

Mix and mingle with actual local yokels.

Sorry, you want us to actually go there?Yes, darling.

As opposed to closing our eyes and imagining it.

That does sound rather jolly.

We'll see all the sights, then come back suitably refreshed

and get to work.

Oh, no. We'll be broadcasting all our shows there.

Live. What?

I can't believe the Muckles are actually coming to our village.

And they will be recording in our church.

I believe the producer was born here.

It's like meeting long-lost family.

I've been following their adventures for years.

Yes, Mrs Devine. But remember - they do not know YOU.

Of course.

I'll endeavour to be nonchalant... They're here!

Hello, everybody!

VARIOUS GREETINGS

And do you all love The Muckles?

CHEERING

And who's your favourite character?

You are!

That is the correct answer!

LAUGHTER

Hello, there!

You must be Mr Muckle!

Well, yes, I suppose I am.

I'm a big fan.

I cried my eyes out when your dog fell in the threshing machine.

That's very kind. Thank you.

I'm sorry, excuse me....

Hello, there. Hello.

You must excuse him. He's been reading the script on the bus,

and he does get a bit emotional. Of course.

I'm Mrs Isabel Devine.

If there's anything you need, or anything I can do...

So you actually live here? That's right.

All the time? I wouldn't live anywhere else for the world!

Oh, sorry!

You see, I know a lot of people come to the country at the weekend,

but you forget that there are people who live here all the time.

It's lovely to meet you.

Hello! I'm Kenneth Clay.

Writer and producer of The Muckles.

Father Brown. I guessed as much! I knew your predecessor.

Father Smythe.I heard you were a native of Kembleford.

Many moons ago. Ah, the church.

That will look magnificent in our publicity photographs.

Bells!

Yes, we have eight.

No. They're not going to ring, are they, when we're broadcasting?

Our studio is rather ramshackle.

Well, they will ring tomorrow for Sunday mass,

and then I assure you they will be silent for the rest of the week.

Oh, marvellous. Panic over.

Kenneth? Yes?

It's lovely being here and talking to these country bumpkins,

but where is our hotel?

Ah. See that farmhouse over there?

Well, this is very rustic. However did you find it?

Um, I was born here.

Really? Yes. I can still see Father coming through this door,

Mother telling him to take his muddy boots off.

Kenneth, this is all fascinating, but is there a telephone?

I think I might need to make a phone call.

Down this corridor, in the hallway.

Thank you.

And what I want to know is, which is the biggest bedroom?

Up the stairs. First door on the left.Lovely.

Typical.

Hello again!

Hello. I forgot to give you these.

Sausage rolls and a Victoria sponge.

Oh! Oh, I never say no to a nice sausage roll.

Our producer was just saying this was his family home.

I still own it.

I think it's remarkable.

You always said Mr Muckle was based on your father,

but I had no idea he was a real farmer.

Farming was his livelihood, but he had another passion.

I'll show you.

Oh!

It'sa type 45 radio!

Oh. Are you interested in broadcasting equipment?

I'm afraid, Mr Clay, I am interested in almost everything.

So, was your father a radio ham?

My father was no ham. Ham can be cured!

LAUGHTER

He used this kit to broadcast to fellow enthusiasts,

giving out useful information in the dark days of the last war.

And you followed his footsteps into the world of radio.

I did.

And now, whenever we give out farming advice on The Muckles, well,

I only hope I'm worthy of him.

The Muckles?That's right.

Are you a fan? Ooh, as soon as I hear that theme tune,

I run towards the radio... to turn it off.

Brenda, that's not fair.

Once you've been listening for years, they become family.

All the more precious when your own family aren't around.

Although you did say it's not quite as good as it was?

I suppose. Although I am looking forward

to Milly and Jethro's wedding episode.

Speaking of which...

Oh, my word! It's wonderful.

I only hope my wedding can be half as glamorous.

What do they want all this stuff for? It's on the radio.

Publicity photographs.

Oh.It's for the Radio Times.

We are behind the scenes!

So...is it a good fit?

It's fine. So long as I don't breathe.

Mr Clay! Oh, Father Brown!

We're just making a few last-minute adjustments.

HE HUMS

Charlie, could you please put on the top hat?

I don't think so. It's a small magazine

and if I'm going to fit all of my face on that cover, then...

Just do it to humour me?

Yes, Mein Fuhrer!

HE STAMPS HIS FOOT FORMALLY

I must say, the acoustics in this place are marvellous.

Will work wonderfully for the actual episode.

Yes, Annabel. You could whistle a happy tune here.

CHARLIE WHISTLES

Oh, Miss Warmley! You look...

Ravishing!

I mean, it's a beautiful dress.

The photographer seems to agree.

He's actually keen to get me on the cover.

Of course.

Well, are you ready for your close-up?

Oh, thank you.

CAMERA CLICKS

Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello.

Hello, people! How'd you like a slice of my luverly, luverly cakie?

My mamma mia, she used to make-a the cake

and eat-a the cake every single day.

But you know my mamma, she did not live too long.

Huh?

Oh, lady! Would you like to try-a the cake?

No, thank you.

Just a little slice of the cake.

No. But your eyes! Your eyes and the cake -

they match!

You stupid, selfish, little worm!

Why do you always have to ruin everything?

Why don't you just drop down dead?

Elizabeth.

Idiot.

So, Mr Muckle.

This wedding will be happening,

whether ye likes it or not.

HE LAUGHS LOUDLY

Oh... Two minutes over.

Which should be all right with a few judicious cuts.

However, we don't have anyone to do sound effects.

Why not? Myfanwy has been in a minor car crash.

This whole show is a car crash.

Elizabeth, you've done it before.

Could you operate, just for this evening?

Well, no.

How can I? I have that big speech on page seven.

Although we were looking at making some cuts,

so if we were to get rid of your speech...

It's not ideal, I know.

But we're running out of time, and I keep wondering

what calamity is going to come through that door next.

Hello! It's us! Hello.

Father Brown, I'm so glad you could make it.

We're very keen to see what goes into a live broadcast.

Blood, sweat and tears, mostly. CHARLIE VOCALISES LOUDLY

It's all happening here!

Yes, indeed.

Charlie, can you do your warm-up in the green room, please?

Jawohl!

Goodness! It does seem quite chaotic.

Yes, we're just dealing with a few pre-performance nerves

but once that "on air" sign comes on, all will be well.

LOUD GRUNTING

Oh, it's amazing!

If you close your eyes, you can actually see the axe.

Please, Daddy, Jethro would like a word with you.

Really? Well, come on, then.

What have you got to say for yourself?

CHARLIE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Huh...

Mr Muckle...!

Play the music. For God's sake, play the music!

You have been listening to The Muckles,

an everyday story of farming folk. Charlie! Charlie?

The radio newsreel follows shortly. Charlie?

Charlie!

It's too late.

In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti, amen.

Are you all right? Just a bit shaken.

Father, I assume you witnessed the proceedings?

Yes, I did.

Throughout the episode, Mr Chumley seemed in discomfort.

Then, at the end, he suffered a paroxysm.

Had he had anything to eat or drink in the past hour?

There was that throat spray.

He was gulping that down like he was dying of thirst.

Who's in charge here?

I am. Kenneth Clay.

Although perhaps not for much longer.

20 million people just heard a man die live on air.

Don't know about that. We had the wireless on at the station,

and it sounded like Jethro had been on the cider again.

Thank goodness for that!

Well, I need a drink, or you'll have another body on the floor.

I'll get you some water.

No! No-one's to touch anything.

I'll take your statements outside.

It's going to be a long night.

Hello, there! Something smells good.

Oh! Mrs, um, Wotsit left us some bits and pieces.

And some eggs from the henhouse. How lovely!

This whole week could be rather jolly if it wasn't for...

..all the disasters. I couldn't sleep a wink.

I kept seeing him writhing on the floor, reaching out for help.

You do know that if you get nervous in the night,

you can always come into my room, no, no...

Sorry, sorry, that sounded a bit, um...

No, it's fine!

Well, anyone who says an actress' life is easy

should spend a night in this hell-hole.

A mattress made of straw, and an absolute maniac underneath me.

Maniac? Kenneth.

I'm just over his study.

And he was up all night -

bash, bash, bashing on that machine of his!

Listen!

Come on!

HIGH-PITCHED: "He's left me, Daddy! "He's called off the wedding!"

DEEPER: "Oh, darling, is it too soon to say

"good riddance to bad rubbish"?

What are you listening to?

Father Brown! We were just listening to our producer.

Yes, he records all his episodes on tape and then he types them up.

And as you can imagine, we're very keen to know what happens next.

Oh! Good morning!

Now, I've spoken to the DG, the head of department, and Charlie's mother,

and everyone is very keen that we continue.

Now, we're keeping his death quiet for now,

but we'll make an announcement on Friday.

Ah, the wedding episode.

I take it you'll not now be requiring St Mary's?

Actually, we will.

Milly is going to be jilted at the altar.

Rejected by the only man she ever loved.

There won't be a dry eye in the United Kingdom.

Marvellous!

And what about Mr Muckle?

He's going to make peace with his daughter,

apologise for all the hurt he's caused,

and then he's going to try and persuade her

that there are brighter days ahead.

Oh! Sounds good.

Now, as it's a lovely day, I think we should go and rehearse outside.

Although I still need someone to do sound effects.

BOX CONTENTS CLATTER

Cowbells, fog-horns and wind noises! Why did he think of me?

He saw how engrossed you were yesterday evening,

and Mr Clay is a very good judge of character.

Welcome.

This is the barn where my father would gather winter fodder,

and come home covered in chaff.

Right.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Well, then we'll begin.

Now, let's make some Muckles magic!

BELL JANGLES

Oh, Miss Hawthorn, I must say,

you've worked wonders with my old Aberdeen longhorn.

Whatever is your secret?

It's very simple. Her udders were looking a little sore,

so I rubbed on my unguent.

Spearmint flower and fresh camomile.

Well, it's had the most remarkable effect on her yield.

Which just goes to show...

LIQUID POURS LOUDLY

..when you treat animals with respect, they repay you tenfold.

Speaking of respect, you do need to sort things with your daughter.

Milly has made her own bed, be it lumpy and uncomfortable.

Mr Muckle, Jethro may be coarse and uncouth,

but he has a good heart. And love is such a rare...

"And precious thing in this world." Carry on.

Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for interrupting,

we need a word, Miss Hawthorn. I mean...

Elizabeth Warmley, I'm arresting you

on suspicion of the murder of Charlie Chumley.

Oh, Father, I can't bear it.

They've been interrogating me for three hours.

After a while, you want to confess just to make it stop!

Why did they arrest you?

Apparently, someone put poison in Charlie's throat spray.

Strychnine.

And they found traces of it on my sound effects table.

They've been going through all my possessions -

my luggage, my clothes!

It didn't help that yesterday, you told him to drop down dead.

For once in his life, he listened!

I can see that Mr Chumley

was not easy to get on with.

Do you know of anyone who might have a lethal grudge against him?

Well, there was Annabel.

I mean, she had to marry him!

Ah, yes.

I know she was dreading this trip.

Demanded Wednesday morning off so she could go back to London.

And then on Sunday night...

Yes?

I heard her on the telephone to her agent.

Sobbing. Saying Charlie had ruined everything.

Did she say how?

I never heard that.

Oh...

Please! I...

I have to get back to Graham.

We must work on our scenes.

Yes, Miss Warmley.

I will do everything possible to make sure that happens.

Father, I feel I'm in hell.

I mean, poor Charlie.

But then, poor Elizabeth.

And poor everyone! We don't even know if the show is safe.

It must be a very precarious occupation, acting.

Forever searching for the next job. Yes!

It's a nonstop round of begging letters and auditions.

Is that why you asked for Wednesday morning off,

so you could go back to London?

No.

No, I won't be going to London. No?

I had an audition.

But now I don't.

Would that have been for a show called The King And I?

How do you know?

Well, at the wedding photography session yesterday,

Charlie Chumley taunted you, he said you could "Whistle A Happy Tune",

and that is a song from The King And I.

It is.

And it was going to be my West End debut.

Only, on Sunday night, my agent said they didn't want to see me.

Someone had told them that I was unreliable.

Unreliable! Me!

And you think that someone was Charlie Chumley?

It had to be.

He was the only one who knew.

Why would Mr Chumley sabotage your career?

Oh... Isn't it obvious? He wanted to be the star of The Muckles.

And by marrying me, taking over the farm...

But if I left, it would make life difficult for him,

so I think he made a few phone calls and...

KNOCK ON DOOR

Come in!

Hello.

We have a situation. In the pigsty.

Hello! Father, forgive me.

I was just looking for the piggies.

Napoleon, Snowball, Squealer.

Kenneth, you do know it's not a farm any more?

The animals died some time ago.

They're all still here in my memory.

Running around with their little curly tails.

Annabel, could you come in with me?

But I've got my suedes on.

Then could you make a strong pot of coffee?

Yes. I could definitely do that.

Do you know what they call a little piggy,

the teeniest in the litter?

That would be the runt. Yes.

That's what my father used to call me.

"You're a runt.

"A pathetic seven-stone weakling."

But I am not a runt!

I am a BBC producer!

Yes, and a very fine one. No, I'm not!

I just seem to ruin everything.

I thought coming here would breathe new life into the show.

But now Charlie's dead,

Elizabeth's been locked up,

and I don't know what to do for tonight's episode!

Kenneth, give me that.

That was a disgusting waste!

Not at all.

In fact, the earthworms are having a marvellous party.

But your job is to entertain the nation.

But we haven't got a show!

Oh, come on, Kenneth. We've weathered worse storms than this.

Storms?

Storms, yes. Yes, that... That's it!

Thank you.

Well done, Mr Snow. Very persuasive.

The thing is - my part was based on his father,

so I always get through to him.

Now I just have to work out what to do for poor Elizabeth.

Miss Warmley?

Oh, dear. Not more questions. No.

But it's seven o'clock.

I thought you might like to listen to the wireless.

I'd rather be on it,

but it will be nice to know how my friends are doing.

All right, then.

THE MUCKLESTHEME MUSIC BEGINS

THUNDER-LIKE RATTLING

Oh! Oh!

This is the most terrible storm!

You think I don't know? I'm soaked to the skin!

Milly, I know we've had our disagreements,

but we have to work together for the sake of the farm.

Poor Miss Hawthorn's gone missing, and...

Where are her horses?

I think they've bolted.

Moonlight? Moonlight!

HORSE GALLOPS

Moonlight!

How's the head, Mr Clay?

Oh, much better, thank you.

I was just rather overwhelmed by recent events.

But everything's back on track now.

Easy, boy. Easy...

Well, I thought that was the best episode ever.

Your wind noises were wonderful.

I know! And when the horse got stuck in the mud,

you know it's not real, but you start to see it in front of you.

I think it's because we're all listening together.

20 million people, all believing.

The episode's going very well, in spite of all the disasters.

And now they have another disaster.

No, Chief Constable, she clearly told him to drop down dead.

No, not in the programme, she actually said it in real life.

Excuse me.

Please tell me you have some good news from the labs.

Mr Clay?

Mr Clay?

"Dead? But no, Daddy, he can't be."

"I'm afraid so. Crushed by an old oak tree."

Father Brown?

Mr Clay. Forgive me.

I am, as you know, an avid Muckles listener.

Fair enough. Though I would prefer you to wait till the actual episode.

Which I am sure will be gripping.

I have just read the interview with the late Charlie Chumley.

Oh, Lord.

Break it to me gently.

He said he writes scripts for TheMuckles...

Ha! No. Absolutely not.

That was just Charlie spinning a yarn.

Believe me, there is only one captain on this ship.

And what would the captain do, Mr Clay,

should one of the crew threaten mutiny?

Father, I hope you're not suggesting something unsavoury.

There were many times I could have cheerfully murdered Charlie Chumley.

But I've been through hell this week. Writing and rewriting.

We will have a wonderful episode in the church this evening.

But nothing like my original plan.

What was the original plan? Well, it was going to be the wedding episode.

Jethero would be late, of course. Always adds to the drama.

Then at the end of this joyous, happy episode...

..Mr Muckle was going to die.

What? That's the reaction I was hoping for.

Certainly surprised Graham on the bus. But I kept telling him,

"If you're going to go, you may as well go in style."

We've got a visitor!

Apparently, some very important solicitor

who knows the Chief Constable

demanded that they look at the evidence again.

And as there's nothing conclusive, I'm out on police bail

pending further enquiries. But who exactly instructed this solicitor?

I don't know. I must have a guardian angel.

It doesn't matter who it was.

The main thing is - you're in tonight's show.

And the show must go on.

Mr Snow, might I have a private word?

I presume YOU were responsible for the solicitor.

Was it that obvious?

The thing is, I know beyond all doubt she didn't do it.

How can you be so sure?

Because Elizabeth is the kindest person I've ever met.

She's just like the sun.

As soon as she appears, everyone feels better.

Are you in love with her, Mr Snow?

More than you could possibly imagine.

Have you told her about your feelings? How could I?

We have the most wonderful time together, but what if...

..she doesn't feel the same way?

So, no, no, I just carry on sharing a microphone,

but never my feelings.

Admiring Miss Warmley from afar.

But that was about to change.

You were going to be written out of TheMuckles.

Indeed, on the way here, you read a script...in which he dies.

Which distressed you greatly.

Of course it did! How would you feel?

I've been totally devoted to this show,

and then to be tossed aside...

And yet you were not tossed aside.

Thanks to Mr Chumley's death, you will remain. As will Miss Warmley.

Father Brown, I don't know who killed Charlie,

but I would never be brave enough.

You see, I've been in love with Elizabeth for ten years,

and I'm still too terrified to tell her.

I'm not a man who takes risks.

Indeed.

But an hour ago, Miss Warmley was in a cell,

and now she is enjoying the taste of freedom.

Perhaps it's time you escaped from your cell.

Here we go. Hot off the press.

So, what's actually going to happen?

Milly learns of the death of Jethro.

And will be furious with her father, of course.

But Miss Hawthorn will bring them back together.

Then, having brought peace to the Muckles,

she reveals that her sister is very ill

and she has to move back to London.

London? The thing is, Elizabeth,

it's marvellous that you're out on bail, but...

Who knows what happens next? We have to think of the show.

Now, hang on!No, no. I... I understand.

Now we also need a friend and confidante for Milly.

Father Brown?Yes?

I realise this is unlikely, but...

..do you know of any actresses?

This is the greatest honour of my entire life.

Although I am terrified. What if I mess up my first line?

What is your first line?

"Hello, Milly."

I'm not going to think about the 20 million listeners.

I'm doing it for these people. My friends.

Oh, there's Edgar!

Isn't it romantic?

If you see any decorations you like, just let me know

and I'll try and keep hold of them. Oh, that's wonderful, Isabel,

but I'm afraid I'm not here just for your performance.

I'm also here to keep an eye

on someone who remains our number one suspect. Oh...

But good luck! Thank you.

Ah, there we are.

Hello, everyone.

Thank you for coming to this live transmission of The Muckles.

We would ask you, please, to remain in your pews,

and avoid any extraneous noise.

Obviously, I have asked Father Brown to silence the bells.

CHUCKLING

Are we ready at the back?

When the "on air" sign illuminates,

we will be live to the nation.

Mr Clay, may I have a word?

I am a bit busy!

But I'm afraid this can't wait.

And I'm sure the show will go on without you.

Tonight's episode is dedicated to Mr Charlie Chumley,

a much-loved member of The Muckles cast,

who sadly passed away this week.

May I say, it is such a great privilege to watch you work,

conjuring stories out of thin air and committing them to tape.

Well, I've had to do that. Sheer pressure of time.

I heard the recording you made

of your characters reacting to the death of Jethro.

And in the background, I could hear the church bells.

But the bells only rang on Sunday this week.

Which means that you were preparing for the death of Charlie Chumley

while he was still alive.

I think you're forgetting my profession, Father.

I do use sound effects.

And I think you're forgetting mine.

I would know the sound of St Mary's bells anywhere.

What did Mr Chumley do

that made you decide he had to die?

Or what did he discover?

I suspect the answer lies in your father's love of radio.

What do you mean?

I was very intrigued by the map in his study.

Great Britain, studded with pins.

London, Coventry, Liverpool, Southampton.

And then I realised they were all cities that suffered

major bombing raids in World War II.

A strange thing for a farmer to record.

And then when I returned, the map had been removed.

It was in the way. I wanted to make the place my own.

William Joyce, the traitor, known as Lord Haw-haw,

broadcast every night on behalf of the Nazi Party,

celebrating every bomb that fell.

I wonder, did your father attempt the same sort of thing?

Perhaps as an aficionado,

he would know how to evade detection by the authorities.

And then Mr Chumley called you Mein Fuhrer.

I wonder,

did Charlie Chumley find out your father's secret?

I should have known that Charlie would go snooping.

He went looking for beer or cigarettes.

Hello!

And he found something a lot more deadly.

What's this?

Oh, my word. What...

..have we...here?

What are you doing?

I'm...reading a letter.

From an old friend of your father's.

What friend?

Well, it's a... It's a German name.

Oh, look at that.

It's Joseph Goebbels.

Father would never...

So, Mr Chumley knew a terrible secret.

And had immense power.

He did. Suddenly, he thought he was in charge of the show.

He gave me a list of suggestions.

And they were awful.

So, have you had a look at my ideas?

I did, but you must be joking.

Jethro's evil twin? Flying saucers? An alien invasion?

It would kill the show.

Then why don't we do an episode

where someone turns out to be a Nazi instead?

You could not allow him to destroy the beautiful thing you created,

so you had to destroy him.

It all seemed to fall into place.

The farmhouse was full of rat poison.

And he had that ridiculous throat spray he used to use.

I had hoped that he would die later, at the pub.

But Charlie always had terrible timing.

When he died, you ran to loosen his clothing.

You were picking his pockets...

..to retrieve the letter from Herr Goebbels.

An everyday story of farming folk...

Charlie? Charlie!

I had hoped to keep my father's secret.

I can't even manage that.

Your father went to his maker, and was judged.

Now you have to confess,

and beg God's forgiveness.

Confess? How can I?

I am The Muckles, Father. I created it.

Without my particular vision, it would be lost.

Your programme is loved by millions. But you must tell the truth,

and save your soul.

For the sake of my listeners,

I must keep my head down and carry on.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Father.

Oh, Milly.

I know this was meant to be the happiest day of your life,

but just be glad you've got your friends and family

who love you very much.

I know. And Jethro will always live on...in my heart.

Well, I'm just glad we're all friends again.

Because, as you know, my sister is very ill.

And family is the most precious thing.

And so I must...leave you.

No! No!

You can't possibly go!

What? Why ever not?

Because...

..I love you!

Oh!

Graham...

Well, I don't think anyone was expecting that ending,

but...they seemed to like it.

Yes! It certainly came as a surprise to me.

But a very welcome one.

Kenneth, I'm...

I'm so sorry, that was most unprofessional of me...

No.

In fact, it was perfect.

And it's made me realise the show can go on without me.

What do you mean, darling? You are the show.

Not any more.

Chief Inspector? May I have a word?

Certainly.

So, thank you, my darlings.

And, please... look after the show for me.

So, have you enjoyed your week in Kembleford, Miss Binky?

Well, it's been...extraordinary.

But I don't know how people cope with no theatre, no cinema,

no culture of any kind. Hang on!

We can still turn on the radio and listen to you.

Oh! Of course!

And that's what keeps you going.

Well, I'd better get back to London and make some more episodes.

Goodbye!

Father Brown. I want to thank you for performing a miracle.

And which miracle would that be?

You got a crusty old curmudgeon to open his heart.

It was a miracle I'd been waiting for, for ten years.

And you'll be pleased to hear we've spoken to our new producer.

Oh, so what's going to happen?

There will be wedding bells.

Both on the programme and...in real life.

Oh. Well...

Goodbye! Goodbye.

You know I said I can't stand The Muckles?

Yes?

Kind of like it now.

I think I might miss them.

Oh, Brenda! You don't need to miss them.

They'll always be there for you.

Every evening at seven.

Your invisible friends.

Aw...