All language subtitles for Sister Boniface Mysteries Season 03 e03

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Professor, we've
been detected.

We must dissipate immediately!

Impossible, my dear.
The console is inoperative.

Ha-ha. Thank you.

Something had been meddling
with the -- the, um...

- Uh...
- Circuitry?

Yes, that.

I'm beginning to think
the problem

is inside the spaceship itself.

Charlie, it's a --

- A -- A --
- Zybok!

The DARTIX has been penetrated!

It is now under our control!

You will take this ship
over my dead body.

As you command.

##

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- Professor?
- Tis I.

Come with me kid,
we're going on an adventure.

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I gather Mr Fabricant is here

for the, um, science-fiction

conference, um,
thingy-me-whatsit.

I'm sure your fiancé
would love it.

Oh, no. Victoria, she's staying
with her aunt in London.

You know, she's
seeing the sights

and preparing for the wedding.

Oh, I do love an excuse
to buy a new hat!

In any case,
what is this conference for?

And why it is
in Great Slaughter?

Professor Y,
the fan club is here.

Didn't Zybokmania make
it over to Bermuda?

Still got quite the
following thanks to the repeats.

Unfortunately, it finished
a few years back.

But mercifully,
not the end of me.

Or my acclaimed career.

- Morning, Mr Fabricant.
- Good morning.

May I say
how much I used to enjoy you

in "Dixon of Dock Green"?

You may indeed.

Mr Fabricant, what have
you been up to of late?

Oh, I've gone back
to my roots --

the stage.

I have to say,
it's quite surprising

to have a famous actor,
like yourself,

staying with us
at the Seaview.

Oh, my dear boy,
one prefers somewhere more...

Rustic.

Here we are, Mr Fabricant.

Oh, what a treat. Thank you.

I don't suppose
I could trouble you

for an autograph?

How serendipitous.

I shall be signing
at the event.

Two free tickets each.

I insist.

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One, two. One, two.

Regulation 13C --

the President will deal
with all talent management.

Lower-ranked individuals
will distribute

- the tea and the coffee.
- It would be nice

if Sister Peter and I
could at least

say hello to the actors.

But they'll only want
to speak to me, so --

Please, Roger,
it's only fair considering

everything I've contributed.

Eugh, for --

Fine!

I can't believe we're going to
meet The Professor and Charlie

- in the flesh!
- Have some decorum?

- Is now a good time?
- Yes, yes. Um, it is.

We, that is the "Professor Y"
Appreciation Society,

have made it our mission
to revive the show.

We've amassed a petition
of 196 signatures

to make the channel see
the error of their ways.

Have you signed it?

Twice.

I gather there's
a special screening tomorrow?

Of "Attack of the Zyboks"!

The story unfinished due to
the technicians strike in '61?

- Mm-hm.
- But how?

Never you mind, Norman.

It's time.

Let the fans in!

Welcome. Welcome. Come on.

##

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Yewillabevapurized!

Tom, are you trying to give

Mrs Clam a heart attack?

It's nothing to be afraid of.

This is my pride and joy --

the actual Zybok

that zapped The Professor
in the final episode.

Nonsense. Utter gobbledegook!

Thank you.

##

I must say this is all
jolly good fun.

I knew you'd love it.

I've always found the
transcendentally

dimensional nature
of the spaceship

especially fascinating.

Sister Peter.

Oh, look Sam.
Aren't those endearing?

- Mm.
- Ah.

Out of my price range alas.

A gift from me to you.

To say thank you for coming.

Thank you so much.

Enjoy.

Why's Norman looking so glum?

Oh, I thought he loved
this show.

Do you want to escape
while you still can?

##

Norman, what's wrong?

Clem says I'm not pulling
my weight.

He's given me
till first thing Monday morning

to bring him a scoop.

And a story about a dead TV show
isn't going to cut it.

Well -- Well, maybe
one of the guests

will give you an exclusive?

Welcome to the world's first
"Professor Y" Convention!

I am your President,
Roger Crabtree.

But before we get going,
a certain someone would like

to say a few words...

I've only got one thing to say.
"Come with me, kids!

We're all going
on an adventure!"

Coming later,
Celeste Carmichael

and the godlike genius
behind the show,

creator Douglas Wiseman!

##

I am grateful, you know.

That you listened.

I'd just love to see
what happens next.

All in good time.

First, there's an award
to collect tomorrow evening.

With you on my arm.

Oh, God, it's him.

- Think of the humungous fee.
- True.

But I'm not even touching one of
those grubby little barkers.

Hey!

Welcome to our
little celebration.

This is the greatest honour
of my life.

The fee, up front.

- Or no banana.
- Of course, um...

- Here you go.
- Yep.

And this telegram
arrived for you earlier.

Oh.

Could I...

perhaps tempt you to wear
one of your old costumes?

- I'm afraid, I don't have any.
- You're in luck!

I've collected quite
a few of your old looks.

Let's get this over with.

##

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You can depend on us,
we will never give up the fight

to bring your beloved show back.

Don't bother on my account.

I'm rather busy with my

Society of Film and Television
Arts nominated smash --

"The Ties that Bind."

I see, um, well,

I know a lot of people
want some answers,

so, I'll open it up
to the floor.

Howcurraleavusallanginlikat?
Zip!

Some sort of alien language?

Uh, if I may?

"How could you leave us all
hanging on like that? Zap!"

Ratings were in free fall,
so, the channel pulled the plug.

Which worked out rather well
for me.

- Miss Carmichael.
- Yes.

I do not approve of the way

that young man
is mistreating you

in "The Ties that Bind."

- Well...
- It is a drama.

Well, just make it stop.

I am delighted to say
that it will be.

Can I just remind everyone
that this isn't

a "Ties that Bind" convention!

- Perhaps, it should be.
- Yes, you.

Congratulations
on the huge success

that is "The Ties that Bind."

I'd be honoured if
you'd grant me an interview

for the Albion Bugle?

Someone with taste.

Come by Slaughter Hotel
in the morning.

Is everything alright?

To be utterly frank, no.

You know, I've moved onto
serious drama now, and frankly,

I'd rather no one
was reminded of this...

puerile juvenilia.

Come!

What a thoroughly loathsome man!

##

Just put it down. There.

Douglas, what's wrong?

Nothing that need concern
your pretty little head.

I must make a call.

But after dinner, perhaps,
you might join me for a swim...

or a sauna?

Alas, I need my beauty sleep.

For the awards.

I'll leave you to it, yes?

##

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There we are.

Right, I think that's
enough for 1 day.

E-Excuse me, Mr Fabricant,

I have been waiting
patiently all day.

I am flattered.

Um, I'll make sure you're first

in the queue tomorrow.

Tomorrow?!

Oh. Oh.

Peggy! I can't believe my luck.

Clem's favourite show
is "The Ties that Bind."

See! Problem solved.

You really are
an inspiration, Peggy Button.

I am tickled to see
how taken you are

by our time-travelling friend.

Roger and Barbara
have gone AWOL.

Which means I'm the most senior
society member here.

Me!

Nothing you can't handle,
Sister.

This has been a joyous event.

And I'm sure tomorrow
will be even better.

##

Mr Wiseman?

Mr Wiseman?

##

What on earth
do you think you're doing?!

what have we got here, then?

Judging by the spatter
and pooling, I surmise

a serious attack took place
in this very spot.

Perhaps, Mr Wiseman left
to seek medical attention?

Quite possibly.

What have we here?

Inexplicably, a spot of green.

Alien blood, perhaps?

I'm sure there's a
more rational explanation.

Could this be our weapon?

##

- Huh?
- Hm?

Well, that looks like blood.

Bravo, Peggy!

So, he was attacked
with the implement

of his very own words.

Intriguing.
A "Ties that Bind" script.

Dated 2 days ago.

Well, perhaps, Mr Wiseman

wasn't happy with what he wrote?

Or our attacker hated the show?

Well, that narrows it
down to almost everyone

at the convention.

I can't help but feel
that the telegram

he received there yesterday
was most significant.

Sister. Sir.

Over here.

##

More blood.

So, perhaps, the body
was removed to conceal evidence.

We need to find him.

Norman.

Film, now.

Of course, Inspector.

It's just -- I need this scoop
to save my job.

I know whodunit, you see.

Cough it up, then.

What's it Ruth Penny says,
quid pro quo?

That all depends on how
valuable the information is...

##

Regulation 18B --

Lower-ranked members
must ensure

that all society spaces
are cleaned

before the President's arrival.

- Sorry, Mr Crabtree.
- We'll be as quick as we can.

Ah, Mr Fabricant.

Ah, not feeling too tickety-boo.

It's food poisoning, I expect.

- I'll get you some coffee.
- Coffee.

He smells
like he's swallowed a brewery.

Mm-hm.

Uh, no, no, no, no.
Too soon. Chop chop.

We are here on police business.

We believe that Douglas Wiseman
was attacked last night.

- Is he alright?
- He's currently missing.

Oh, my goodness.

And my Zybok's nowhere
to be seen.

Well, I'd rather
prioritise humans for now.

- Hm.
- Roger, can we have a word?

If you insist.

We heard from Norman Whalley

that you'd threatened Mr Wiseman
yesterday after the panel.

Uh, I wouldn't say that.

But you've only just started!

I can not stomach
so many tragic individuals.

Tragic?!

Tragic is turning your back
on the programme that made you.

And then, writing
something so bland.

How dare you!

You! Of all people!

"President Crabtree"?!

I'll see to it
that no one associated

with the show
speaks to you ever again.

- No. No, I'm sorry. I-I --
- Your sad little reign is over!

I won't let you do this!

I'm warning you!

It was just a storm in a teacup.

Really, because, uh,

I remember you went
AWOL yesterday.

A migraine, Inspector.

All the excitement, you see?

We'd like to search your house.

What on earth for?

To eliminate you
from our enquiries.

Unless you have something
to hide?

Fine!

But I refuse to leave
this convention, so...

help yourself.

##

Sam: As much as I hate
to agree with Norman,

I'd say he was our
prime suspect.

Could he be responsible
for our crumpled-up script?

We found nothing of concern
at Roger Crabtree's house.

Apart from a wardrobe full of
Celeste Carmichael's costumes.

Any luck with
the typewriter, Sister?

Uh, henceforth
known as Tippy Tappy.

Well, I've discovered some kind
of adhesive on his keys.

But for what?

What about the "alien blood"?

Well, presently unidentified.

Though, it does contain
a high salt content.

There could be something
in this.

A word with Celeste, I think.

Any excuse to go back there.

Could she be our killer, sir?

Oh, well, mercifully,
there's no evidence

that Mr Wiseman is deceased.

I think the writing's
on the wall, Sister.

Sergeant?

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Hello?

Who's there?

Show yourself!

##

Who -- Who are you?

A Zybok from the planet Zandrel.

Very amusing.
Let me go, this instant.

Negative. You have a task
to complete.

What task?!

Mr Fabricant.

Zyboks! Venarians.

Mechanomen.

I'm so sorry, Sir, um...

I just wanted to know,
where is Celeste?

Can't a man just have
a damn nap?!

I heard you were looking for me?

Did you do this,
Miss Carmichael?

So what if I did?

Why was Douglas Wiseman
torturing your character?

I suspect it's
because I said, "No."

To his advances.

You said yesterday that
the mistreatment had stopped.

So, when you read this script,
you must have felt angry?

Angry?!

- I was livid.
- I'm an artist.

I must follow
where the muse takes me.

You lied to me!

You lied to me, so, that I would
go to the awards with you!

Well, I am not going.

And I am not doing this!

You really haven't grasped
the dynamic here,

have you, sweetheart?

I'm the puppeteer.

You are my puppet.

Not if I quit.

Oh, really? Oh. Go on then.

No. Go on. Quit.

Thought not.

Why didn't you quit?

Douglas says he's
the only one who'll hire me.

And you believed him?

I think, you're a --
a sensational actress.

That's very kind of you
to say so.

But without Douglas,
my career is over.

So, you see,
I could never hurt him.

##

Sir, look what's just

been delivered to the station.

"Great Slaughter Police,
Hear on the grapevine

that you have been
looking for me.

Early this morning
I received details

of an urgent family matter.

Leave me alone
and afford me the privacy

I need at this difficult time.

Yours, Douglas Wiseman."

Sounds a bit fishy to me.

And it doesn't explain
the blood.

Though, I believe it is
his handwriting.

He's alive?

I believe so, for now.

Consider the letters
on the left hand side.

This is quite literally...

a cry for help.

We'd better find him as soon
as we can.

What about your
Tippy Tappy, Sister?

Well, I'm still somewhat stuck
on our sticky substance.

However, I have found more

"alien blood"
in between his keys,

the origin of which
continues to elude me.

- Any fingerprints?
- Good question, Peggy.

Well, the hotel door handle
was most illuminating.

So, I recalled that someone else
went missing yesterday.

I took a punt

and found the very same prints

on this.

Whose?

I'm so sorry. I have no idea.

He is our star guest!

We have to sober him up
before his panel.

Don't worry, I'll go find him.

Apologies, Miss Pierce,
but that won't be possible.

You've found my Zybok?

Sam: I'm afraid not.

But we would like a word.

Preferably, at your home.

##

Oh, no. Not you.

I gave you a lead
in good faith.

- Can't I at least come in?
- No.

And if you print one word.

Actually, there's something I
think Norman might want to see.

Zoiks!

- I don't believe it.
- Neither do I.

It looks like we're
all going on an adventure.

- But how did you?
- We rescued parts of scenery

from a skip
after the show ended.

It's been a labour of love
for Roger and I.

Does it work? May I?

Of course.
Everything's wired in.

Next stop, the planet Zandrel.

Five million years ago!

What are you waiting for?

Wait, if I'm The Professor,
does that make you Charlie?

That's enough of that.

Felix, we shall
start the search?

Button, if you'll show
Norman out, please?

##

So, Barbara may we ask
why your fingerprints were

on Douglas Wiseman's
hotel door handle?

Because I went to see him.

To ask for what was mine.

Mr Wiseman.

I'm funding
the whole thing myself.

But it cost a lot more
than I thought.

So, um...

You didn't even finish
one panel.

I was paid a fee to appear.

And appear I did.

But that's not fair.

That money is all
I have left of my parents.

Spare me the sob story.

You don't understand.

- They --
- Oh, boohoo!

Boohoo to you!

Please, I just want
my money back.

- No, enough, great.
- No, no, I won't leave.

- I promise.
- Talk to my agent.

- No, please. Please!
- E-Enough.

What happened
to your parents?

Um, last year
in the Highlands, they, um...

They hit a deer
and came off the road.

They weren't found for days.

I'm so sorry.

We used to watch
"Professor Y" together.

And now, every night,
I dream of The Professor

taking me away
on adventures and --

and then, back in time
to save them.

So, you see...

I know it's silly.

"Professor Y" saved me.

Did you spend your inheritance
on this event?

Roger said we had to make
the TV company see

that there's still a demand.

Perhaps, he shouldn't be
so cavalier with your money.

If you're quite finished prying,

perhaps, I can have
my lieutenant back?

We found Kirk in the Spitfire,
but there's still much to do.

If you don't mind
us remaining to search?

- If you find my Zybok...
- You'll be the first to know.

Okay.

I'm so thirsty.

Just let me out of here, please.

I'll do anything.

You have been brought here
for a purpose.

What purpose?!

OK, so, we searched the
house from top to bottom.

And it's another dead end.

Oh, fishbums. Well, where
on earth could he be?

Anywhere in time or space
it seems.

Well, I have found a hair
inside Tippy Tappy

without scales or medulla,
which means --

- The hair is synthetic.
- Ooh, very good.

Which along with the adhesive...

Oh, no. Not again.

We have to go
where the evidence takes us.

Come on, Sergeant.

The moment
we've all been waiting for.

Our hero
and a role model to us all.

Professor Y himself --

Kirk Fabricant!

Hey.

Oh!

Come on, then!

What inane facts

do you all want to know?

Well, may we first start
by asking what you've been up to

- since the show ended?
- Far too many things to mention.

Yes, you.

Can I finally have
my autograph?

Oh, it's you.

Your breakfast has played havoc
with my guts!

How dare you!

My food is highly acclaimed!

You see.

Ugh!

Can we have
a sensible question, please?

Is it true
atyowerrablottoarretme?

Translation?

Oh, is it true that you were

inebriated during some
of the recordings?

Absolutely not!
I am teetotal. Next.

Do you wear a toupee,
Mr Fabricant?

- A what?
- A hairpiece.

A -- A wig if you will.

A wig? Huh?

A wig.

Wig!

Blasphemy!

I came here for you.

For the fans.

When, really, your stupid little
show has been the end of me.

You all stole my wonderful,
wonderful...

Career.

Sergeant Livingstone
has done some background checks.

Yes, um, it appears
that you are indeed working,

but as --

as a lollipop man
in Skegness.

Yes, I am a humongous failure.

If that's what you want to hear?

We just want to know
what you were doing

in Mr Wiseman's hotel room.

If you must know...

I went there to ask --

nay --

beg...

for a part
in "The Ties that Bind."

So. What happened?

That little toad laughed at me

as he sat there composing
his letter.

- A letter?
- And everything

about my downfall

became crystal clear.

I-I know I'd be perfect for it.

The -- The audience
never stopped loving me.

Why on earth would I let
you ruin another show of mine?

Ruin?

Your lack of self awareness
really is astounding.

I -- You -- You've lost me.

You're a dipso, a boozer,

a wino, a drunk, an old soak.

Capiche?

I can assure you
those days are behind me.

You want to know the real reason
you never worked again?

I made it common knowledge
in the industry.

Hmm? You're a laughing stock.

What?

Ow!

Now, get out of my suite!

You bald waste of space.

##

Is that when you bashed
him over the head

- with his typewriter?
- I should have!

Thanks to him,

I can't even get a job as one
of the uglies in panto.

I doubt that.

You were an icon.

That is true.

But what with the stress
of it all...

I sniffed the barmaid's apron.

And now, I am...

a pathetic old has been.

Perhaps, if you stop drinking,

you could revive your career.

It's hopeless. Look at me.

Do you really want
to let your fans

see their hero like this?

They look up to you.

I looked up to you.

You did?

What would The Professor do?

Are you having fun, Mrs Clam?

The answer is a decided no.

But I was promised an autograph,

and I refuse to leave
without it!

Lights.

Sorry.

It's all over Peggy,
in T-minus 17 hours,

I'm going to be toast.

I'm sure you'll come up
with something.

Now, it's time to enjoy
my greatest achievement yet.

Never before seen footage
of "Attack of the Zyboks"!

- Oh for heaven's sake.
- Sister Peter.

Tom, if you will?

##

##

We'll never outrun the Zyboks!

Unless -- Unless , I can

recharge the transducer, deep
in the heart of the DARTIX.

But how will we even get
there, Professor?

Let me think, let me think.

I'm not going down there.

Poppycock.

Come with me, kid,
we're going on an adventure.

Do you even know
where we're going, Professor?!

Well, truthfully, my dear,
I haven't a fig !

But isn't this fun?

Zybok: We have The Professor
in our sights!

He can not escape.

The mighty Zyboks
will be victorious!

So, Douglas was typing a letter?

That's what Kirk said,
before his sticky wig

fell on Tippy Tappy.

Then, Tippy's carbon ribbon

could be
exceedingly illuminating.

Oh, as you might say,
Sister, "Fishbums!"

I'm missing the screening.

- I'm sure you'll survive.
- Sam:

- "Kill Professor Y"?
- Huh?

Did Douglas want to kill Kirk?

Thankfully not.

It's to his literary agent.

The show is being revived.

The show's coming back?!

Apparently so.

But Douglas intended
to block it.

Well, something
our attacker clearly

wouldn't allow to happen.

Sister.

Have you made any progress
with this green substance?

Well, thin layer chromatography
has revealed

the presence of amino acids,
but that's about it, I'm afraid.

If only we had the help of
a time-travelling professor.

If only we had the help

of a time-travelling professor.

- Oh, my giddy aunt.
- Welcome aboard, Sister.

An unexpected pleasure.

How may we?

Uh, I need your help.

Um, perhaps, your equipment?

No need for that.

Logic is all that is required,
hmm?

What would one of my fans do

if they thought my show
had been cancelled...

again?

Oh. Of course.

An emotive reaction.

- Oh, no, not again.
- Eliminate the forensic nun!

You know, I've always wondered
what's inside one of those.

Eliminate!

- Bingo.
- Sister?

Eliminate the forensic nun!

- Hey! Sister?
- I know what it is.

The missing Zybok
is most significant.

We must hurry!

Where?

It's just a hunch.

It might be a really silly one.

But please indulge me.

##

- Norman, I really don't think --
- This is it.

This is my scoop.

I'm a nincompoop.

Who can't even get
a nincomscoop.

I deserve to lose this job.

No. No, that's not true.

Even if you do, what's to stop
you moving on to better things?

In London, like Ruth?

But how can I ever leave when...

Do you want to go dinner
with me?

Oh, uh...

If you get your scoop.

To celebrate.

Uh, we should go.
You're missing the screening.

Wherever you go...

I shall follow.

Just one more thing.

##

##

Is this really happening?

Zybok:
Then, you need to go faster.

Think of my award. Please.

When your mission is complete
you will be released!

- Norman: It's over!
- Zybok: Freeze!

You helped build the console,

and you know about the key,
don't you, Roger?

Thank God! Where have you been?!

El-im-in-ate!

Get away from her! You!

- You metal monstrosity!
- Eliminate!

- Button, are you alright?
- I'll be fine, Sir.

It's Roger, he's deranged!

That may be so, Norman.

But this is Barbara's house
and her Zybok.

Presumably, you don't want
the creator of your beloved show

to know what you've done?

Eliminate!

##

I didn't mean to hurt anyone.

You?!

I presume the telegram
that you received

informed you
that the show was coming back?

I couldn't believe it.

- I had to pull the plug.
- Why?

"Professor Y"
is an embarrassment!

It needs to be forgotten.

So...

So, I -- I wrote a letter.

Which we assume you read,
Barbara.

I only glimpsed it at first.

So, I managed to get back in.

I had to see what it said.

Sister Boniface: And it
elicited numerous tears...

containing traces
of your green mascara.

Why kidnap Douglas?

Sister Boniface:
I imagine not only did Barbara

want to save the show
she loved...

but she wanted its
original creator to breathe

life back into it.

He's the only one who can.

I will never write this
pathetic little show ever again!

No! You're ruining the
only thing that keeps me going!

- Then, you need to grow up!
- Barbara's parents.

They both passed away.

Tragically.

Your pathetic
little show saved her.

I just miss them so much.

Right. Well. I'm -- I am
terribly sorry to hear that.

But could someone
please help get me free?

If I leave now, I may just
make it in time for my award.

No?

You are one of
the finest actresses

I have ever worked with.

Douglas is lucky to have you.

Always has been.

Thank you, Professor.

And now, I need you
to be brave for me.

- And admit something.
- I'm -- I'm not...

I...

Am...

Something, beginning with "A."

I've never said that before.

The important first step.

Now, you get better, for me.

Yes?

Douglas is alive!

Celeste. No.

Celeste.

I can only apologise.

I'll write you a new script.

Hmm?

The car's waiting outside.

I'm not coming.

And when our contract expires,

we're done.

But...

- I'm the only one who --
- There you go, again.

Trying to manipulate me,
so that I won't leave you.

Dear boy, why don't
you forget the awards and stay?

"Professor Y" is not something
to be ashamed of.

I mean, look at the creativity
and community here.

You created something magical.

And in my experience,
that does not happen very often.

##

I get it now, alright?

A loopy fan locked me up for it.

I can see how much
it means to all of you

little people.

If you don't want
a have real life,

then, who am I to stop you?

So...

you get your wish,

albeit without
my considerable talent.

"Professor Y" will live
on to have more adventures.

I can still make this.

Enjoy, enjoy.

Start her up! My award awaits!

Change of plan, old chap.
You're now my plus one.

- Thank you, Mr Fabricant.
- You're welcome.

I do wonder if Mr Wiseman will
ever get his life's ambition.

Oh, no, he won't.

My old pal Bertie
is on the panel.

What's that German word again?

- Schadenfreude?
- Well, he's not all bad.

He did drop the charges
against Barbara.

Oh, well, that is a relief.

And, uh, will you both
be returning

to space and time imminently?

Fancy some more adventures?

There's nothing I'd like more.

Mr Fabricant!

I cannot thank you enough
for your patience.

But most of all,
your hospitality.

Vera.

Ooh, I...

I suppose this will suffice.

But really what you said
about my food.

I was delirious.

Nothing could be further
from the truth.

Well, in that case,

I'll expect you all
at the Seaview

in an hour for tripe and onions.

Well, I did it. saved the show!

You all owe me a great debt
of gratitude.

Yes. This will be the first
of many conventions.

For us, perhaps.

But we'd rather deal
with someone more

in keeping with the values
of our show.

Who better than a nun?

Sister Peter, I hereby
promote you to President

of the "Professor Y"
Appreciation Society.

I'm so honoured!

What?!
No one can dethrone me!

I will always be the President.

Turns out I got my scoop
after all.

Kirk's agreed to do an interview
about the show coming back.

Oh, well done.

See, I knew you could do it.

So, uh, about that dinner
you promised me.

No time like the present?

Oh, yeah.

I-I suppose we should...

get it out of the way.

But the more the merrier, eh?

Mrs Clam will have our guts
for garters.

And, um, I-I mustn't
be late for Vespers.

I suppose, it's just us then.

Do you think now
that I'm staying,

we could make this
a regular occurrence?

I don't think so, Norman. No.

Ah. I can take it slow.

Just -- Just like the slime
that lives inside the Zybok.

I'll grow on you, Peggy.

You'll see...

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