Alan Partridge: Alpha Papa Page #5

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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 f***ing die.

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, um...

Back in the day, I was MC-ing a

conference for Reynard Pharmaceuticals.

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 hyperination.

- Remember, these guys were in sales.

- Alan, where are you going with this?

The point is, he didn't think

he was any good at singing,

and it turns out he was quite good.

- Yeah, that.

- And that if you really, really try

- you can do anything.

- And that.

I don't care! I'm going to f***ing die!

Hey, hey, I'm trying to save your head,

shoulders, knees and toes.

- Knees and toes.

- OK, man up, musos.

- I played synth in a jazz funk band.

- Great, who else?

I used to be the drummer

in Marillion.

Really? 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?

OK.

He wasn't stealing crisps.

He just gets ustered 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.

Pat Farrell had a loyal following in

The local community

But Goredale Media

f***ed him over

Cos they don't care about loyalty

The only things they give a sh*t about

Is the profit margins

And if they don't re-instate him

He'll take it out on the hostages

Even the ones with kids

Better get yourself some body bags

That was beautiful.

- Could you make me some more?

- Ooh. Er...

- 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...

Thanks for waiting, Miss Benfield.

We're speaking to anyone who can

help us build a picture of Pat Farrell.

- You said you know him?

- Ah, 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.

- That's not one of our lines of investigation.

Just 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, no, we'll get it for you.

Just sit there, I'll be back.

Oh...

Wichita Lineman

I hate all this sh*t.

Telling us how to speak.

They think they're giving us

an identity but they're...

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.

Hm. 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...

a holiday on the

beach in Prestatyn.

The kids came over to me and said,

"Papa, Papa! Follow me,"

and... 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.

And the Wichita lineman

Is still on the line

Go-o-o-od 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?

Er... 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.

Aw.

I would love to, Iris, but unfortunately

that's not in the system.

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, OK?

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.

When a listener asks for a song

and I don't have it,

I feel like I've let them down.

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.

Remember it? I took my

family camping in that.

- 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 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.

- 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 trying to find

some way to escape.

Alan! Alan!

Ayatollah!

He's got a shooter.

Aargh!

- You all right, Alan?

- Yeah, I'm fine.

Cuddle me, cop!

Argh!

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, who are you?

Jason Statham.

Jason Bourne.

Jason Argonaut.

- Jason Argonaut?

- Mm.

- It's Jason and the Argonauts.

- Yes.

Are you all right?

You just said, "clobber"

and then "Jason and the Argonauts".

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