So just to fix it, it's Dr Chrissie and Crispin Gilpin.
Too tricky, I'm sorry.
I'm going to call him Dr Crippen, I know I am.
He's a wrestling critic for Sky Sports.
Played a lot of golf with my dad.
And she's also a very talented artist.
Working on some big painting for the church at the moment, I think
she said, so no, they're very nice, very down-to-earth people,
so there's no way you're going to lower the tone.
I promise.
A wrestling critic for Sky. That's like pointlessness cubed.
KNOCKING
RINGS BELL
Chrissie? Crispin?
OK to come in?
We're a little bit early.
Hello? Anyone at home?
Very odd.
I might just try her studio, which I think is out the back somewhere.
I'll be two secs.
MUFFLED GROANS
BANGING
Oh, God! Hang on a second, hang on!
It's OK, I've got it.
Right.
What's going on?
Ah, Polly! Yeah, sorry, what's going on is we've had a break-in!
Just come downstairs, found these two characters in masks.
Going through the bloody safe. Unbelievable!
Managed to clobber them,
got them secured till the police get here, but it's like
Chrissie says, what if there's more of them waiting in the van?
Dare say they'll take a minute to get here, but...
How far is the nearest police station? Got to be ten miles.
Oh, not getting a signal. I'll have to use the landline.
Oh, bugger.
Jonathan?! Whatever you do, stay put!
There's two burglars in the house, and they could be...
Oh, good. Well, that's all under control, then?
We'll just get the sprouts on.
This is shaping up for a really fun-packed evening,
I must say. Better check the safe. I suppose they've taken everything.
What does Japanese knotweed look like?
Sorry? Think I just found some, down in the wood.
It's absolutely lethal, that stuff, once it starts to spread.
We may have to get someone in.
What?
No, it's just where I broke my wrist a couple of years ago -
I think I might've just set it off again.
Great.
PHONE RINGS
Oh, hi, Chrissie, hi!
Listen, I'm so sorry about last night,
I don't suppose the police have managed to...? No, no.
Not sure, but I can check.
Asking if you've any plans to spring the Yorkshire Ripper from jail
this morning. No, no, I think he's learned his lesson.
Sorry? What time would that be for?
Oh, no, it's the least we can do! Yes, definitely!
I can't, sadly, but I'm sure Jonathan'll step up to the plate.
Yes. Leave it with me, Chrissie, and I'll sort it. OK. Bye.
What plate is this I'm stepping up to now?
The volunteer drivers
who ferry people up to the surgery for their appointments.
They're a bit short-staffed this morning,
and there's a patient of hers, Mr Ipswich - he's about 150.
Obviously I would if I could, but I've got the village hall committee
at ten, so go on, you'll be rewarded in Heaven.
Mr Ipswich. Why do I know I'm going to regret this?
Morning, Hugh! Are you well? Hi!
How's the new arrival, still keeping you both up all night?
Yes. I'm beginning to see the appeal of a manger.
You must come round, both of you, and say hello.
Alison's practically selling tickets.
Oh, well, put me down for two.
All looking super-duper.
Yes, they've done a marvellous job.
Wonder why Mr Greeley sounded so down about it on the phone?
Welcome, everybody. I think we have a quorum.
If I could start by introducing my nephew, Warwick,
who's over here from New Zealand for a few weeks.
He'll be helping us keep track of our discussions.
I'm sure we've all had a chance to admire the really splendid
efforts of our builders and design team,
who've worked tirelessly to give the centre
here such a facelift.
ALL: Hear, hear.
As you know, this has all been largely made
possible by the generosity of a local lottery winner -
the businessman and chairman of the Rotary Club, Sir Leonard Corbyn.
His donation to our project was a handsome one.
and in recognition of this it was decided - unanimously -
to re-dedicate the building in his honour.
Which presents us with a slight problem,
as he's just been arrested, and charged with molesting
several senior members of the Women's Bright Hour. Warwick?
Yes, details still coming in on this one,
but it seems to have occurred at a recent garden party
where his passion for pressing the flesh got a little out of hand.
Oh, please... And since that news broke, more women
have come forward with similar accounts of sexual misconduct,
including a dental hygienist who claims
he used to put his hands in his pockets
and...floss himself during treatment, and an air stewardess,
who caught him once using the vomit bag for other purposes.
Yes, well, this is... not a little embarrassing.
Which is why we have to look at some bold cosmetic
adjustments to repair the damage. Warwick?
Yes, so another name now obviously required.
And we were thinking, why not the Conrad Bloyner Centre?
Sorry, Conrad Bloyner?
Not a gentleman I'm familiar with. Well, no,
obviously there's no such person called Conrad Bloyner.
But given the letters on the wall out there for "Leonard Corbyn"
have all been individually cast for us, at considerable cost,
I think it would be somewhat profligate to just throw them away.
People are rarely bothered about the provenance of a name,
as long as it's crisp and memorable. Warwick?
Yes, there are other contenders you might want to consider.
For example, the Orlando Crenby Centre.
A possible Eurosceptic, we thought, in the John Major government.
Or Rodney Claborn,
could have been a local soccer hero in the 1950s.
Or what about alternative comedian turned Daily Mail
feature writer Brendan O'Clory?
I mean, I'd buy it.
Yes, look.
While I agree there's a problem here to be addressed,
I'm not sure inventing local benefactors with silly names
is quite the way forward, is it?
And if we're talking silly, Mr Greeley, I've got a bone to pick
with you about this piece in your latest parish newsletter.
"Subsidence in the south transept of the church.
"could it be linked to my predecessor turning in his grave?"
If that's meant to be a joke, it's a rather lame one.
Oh, you know what you could have is Ronan Clodbery,
Which would be...
No, rubbish, the whole thing. Completely ridiculous.
We've definitely got to...re-think.
Morning! Mr Ipswich?
You ready?
It's Jonathan!
Mr Ipswich?
You ready?
It's Jonathan.
SNORING
Mr Ipswich?
You all right?
It's Jonathan.
Come to take you up the doctor's.
You need any help at all?
Get your hands off.
I've come to drive you to the doctor's. 12:30.
I can't be doing with all that.
I've got to go to the doctor's.
They'll be here in a minute to pick me up.
Waste of time, there's nothing wrong with me.
And who are you, anyway?
Right, why don't I leave you to get ready, and...?
Oh, is this you out here, in your younger days? Very impressive.
Very similar to the kind of stuff I used to get up to before...
THUD
GROANING
Oh, God.
So what did they say, the paramedics?
Did they think it was a stroke, or...?
How serious, we'll have to wait and see, but...
It'll be no hardship getting out of that house for a while.
Place hasn't seen a lick of paint since his wife died.
That's got to be 50 years ago.
Be the perfect time now actually, to try and get in there, while
he's not around, and blow away some of those cobwebs.
Oh, yes!
Now then, what do you think?
Specially commissioned for the church vestibule
by our very own Dr Gilpin.
Such a talent. People amaze me.
Yes, think I saw this through the window in her studio...
Do you see what she's done? Very clever.
All the figures in the crowd, she's made into local parishioners.
Mr and Mrs Gibbs, look, from the butcher's.
Mrs Prosser...
Mr Greeley...
Yours truly, and Hugh. And, look!
She's even managed to squeeze the two of you in at the last minute.
How sweet is that?
Yes, it's, erm... Such a cute little twist.
What do you mean?
Giving you pride of place among the cherubim.
Obviously saw your angelic qualities.
Jonathan, how are you?
Are you well? Yes, I'm good. Ow! So sorry!
No. It's just... since this morning.
I think I overdid it a bit - whacking the ketchup bottle.
No, it's fine. Yes.
Shall we, um...?
Oh, isn't he divine?
Well, not literally, of course,
I have to be careful what I say around here.
And you've got all the toys, look, and gadgets and paraphernalia....
Oh, gone completely overboard. What do you expect, I know...
Sorry to interrupt, Mrs Chater, but there appears to be a man
down there relieving himself against your hedge.
Oh, yes. He looks as if he's starting to flag, doesn't he?
Perhaps I'll just pop down, see if he needs a top-up.
Ah, I feel I must explain.
This chap, who's come to do some garden work for us,
I happened to mention, we've got a plague of badgers at the moment,
churning up the lawn every night, he said the one thing that deters them,
apparently, is male human urine. So...
What with that, and this other strange creature,
that's been seen on the prowl... yes, it is quite scary.
Strange creature? Oh, yes, he's a "beast from Hell"
according to Mr Stebbings on the corner.
He says he was coming home from the pub the other night,
and as he passed our house, he saw this huge,
hump-backed thing crawling across the grass.
Far too big for any dog. Or a small deer, even.
He says it looked at him through the bushes for a moment,
with these demonic, glowing green eyes, and then...vanished.
One for your collection maybe?
Don't they say you're a bit of a mystery-solver?
Wonder if he could help us, your man, with our Japanese knotweed.
Cos I think we might have a slight problem.
Oh, no, really? You might want to keep that one to yourself.
They get so much as a sniff of anything like that round here,
we'll have a mass panic on our hands.
And I know someone else who'll start panicking,
if we don't let him get his 40 winks.
So...time to leave you to the Sandman, I think.
Let him work his magic, and bring you lots of nice dreams.
So that's that, then.
I might as well walk about now with a large white arrow
pointing at my flies.
And painted by a doctor! What are people going to think,
I've got some unfortunate hormone deficiency.
You see what I mean, it's very worrying.
But what do we do about it? And Ancient Palestine, you can't even claim it was a cold day.
I'm sorry, it's just pure vindictiveness!
Are you listening to me?
Sorry...
Whereabouts? These look like carrots to me.
They are carrots. And before you ask me why,
my father would grow carrots in a wood - he just did.
As long as I can remem...
What? No, I just got that thing again.
That kind of cold shudder I had in the bedroom.
When he mentioned the Sandman?
Yeah, to do with a dream I used to have.
Like this nightmare...
..about the Sandman.
Who I know's supposed to be this friendly old character,
who sprinkles sand in your eyes, and sends you off to sleep.
In my dream, he's not a nice person at all.
But this...terrifying figure of evil
who calls round your house in the middle of the night and...
And does what?
I don't know.
It scared me so much, I always woke up at that point in a cold sweat.
PHONE BEEPS
How do we feel about this? Message from Alison.
She says while he's away in hospital - old Mr Ipswich -
she's going to get a little decorating party together.
Try and make it a bit more welcoming.
We'd be up for that, wouldn't we?
Suppose so. 10 Rillington Place would be more welcoming.
Come on, it's what people do.
You're not living in a windmill any more.
You have to engage with the community.
Yes, what community would that be, Twin Peaks?
What happened to that quiet little haven of rural serenity
we were going to escape to, after a busy day at the office?
I know.
You going to be long? Two secs.
So, how much longer do you reckon?
Cos I'm slightly going off the boil here.
I know, but very important to stretch before any physical exercise.
Don't want to get cramp.
It's good for getting the blood flowing into the tissues.
It's having the opposite effect on me, I have to say.
And will you stop with that constant inspection?!
I'll have a quiet word with her tomorrow,
get her to put a tiny wisp of gauze over it or something.
Why a TINY wisp of gauze? Why do you say that?
There's no need to be stingy with the gauze.
Plenty of gauze to go around.
Were you like this as a child?
Insecure or what? Well, I just think...
Oh, this is a joke - surely? What now?
Latest edition of Mr Greeley's parish newsletter!
"Fears of massive Biblical retribution swept through
"the village this week,
"after a local businessman became embroiled in a sleazy sex scandal.
"The Book of Revelation talks of Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse -
"Death, War, Pestilence and Famine,
"three of which have already materialised.
"Death - the sudden passing on Friday of Mrs Enid Spackwell,
"aged 94. War - the boundary dispute over who owns the ditch
"next to the Angler's Arms. Pestilence -
"a plague of badgers near the church, and more alarming still,
"the threat of Japanese knotweed engulfing the village!
"It's stressed there is no sign yet of any famine,
"and no reason whatever to resort to panic buying."
Well, we can guess what the result of that'll be.
How the hell did he get hold of that?
That is just creepy. Isn't it?
As is the curious account of that strange wild beast
that was sighted in the vicarage garden the other night.
But there's no account of that in here.
That is what is curious.
It's all right, darling, it's only the Sandman.
It's just the Sandman.
The Sandman.
It's just the Sandman.
Morning!
Thanks a lot, cheers.
Oh, hi, welcome to the Middle Ages!
Think we just found some more bits of Richard the Third
in the guest bedroom, I can't be totally sure, but...
Wow, he's going to be in for a surprise, when he gets back.
Oh, no, he's well aware what we're up to.
I mean, he was looking a poor old soul last night,
when I went to visit, but you know what?
I'm hoping this will give him a reason to pull through.
So, what do you fancy?
You've got five layers of wallpaper in this room
we are currently chipping our way through.
Or if you want to make sense of all the lumber out there
which is like bills and bank statements and Christmas cards
dating back 20 years or more.
Yeah, give that a go. This wrist is still giving me grief.
Can you believe - just from smacking the sauce out?
How many days ago now?
So, Astrodamus, what was that,
some kind of fortune telling act he used to do?
Ringing a slight bell now. Apparently the world's worst.
If you read some of those scrapbooks and cuttings,
talk about him being booed off the stage every night - it's very sad.
Didn't Jonathan used to be involved with that sort of, erm...?
Yes, for years.
But then, you know, it's that thing with creative people.
So easy to get into a rut,
so important to maintain the stimulation...
As he never tires of telling us. How do you mean? Well!
I'm broad-minded, Polly, but there are some things
I don't think you need to keep sharing with everyone, do you?
What does he call it? "Whacking the ketchup bottle"
and "smacking the sauce out".
What on earth are you talking about?
I think we get the drift, don't we? Scattering his seed?
You want me to spell it out...?
Oh, look, can we just drop the subject?
And pretend I never mentioned...
Hello.
What's this?
Looks like some writing.
"Will Win."
What will win, I wonder?
Load of numbers.
Must have meant something once, I suppose, to somebody. Yes...
What? No...
Oh, no, come on.
Going right off my trolley now, Alison, sorry, but I just have to...
How many layers of paper are we saying here, five?
So we're thinking this writing has been under there for what -
anything up to 50 years?
Oh, well, no, this is really freaking me out now, I'm sorry
because... Because what? Leonard Corbyn.
Our disgraced local benefactor at the village hall?
These are his winning lottery numbers.
I mean, all this stuff, this mind-reading
and astral prediction stuff - is all just a trick, obviously?
This is a trick. It has to be. I don't know.
Even if there was any way of faking all that wallpaper - which, remember,
the whole room's then got to match - how does he know you're going to
come in here at some vague point in the future and take it all off?
But to have just come up with those exact six numbers?
Decades before it happened.
Would make the Amazing Astrodamus - AKA Eric Ipswich -
the most impressive clairvoyant who ever lived.
Small piece of plaster come off here, between the two words.
Still stuck to the paper maybe?
And that's significant?
Always safe to assume, Mrs Chater, there's nothing
that's insignificant. You still got that local press report there?
Just said the whole thing was a complete one-off.
"First time ever he'd done the lottery - just went out
"and bought a ticket, completely random numbers, on a total whim.
"Said his wife Rebecca, 51 - 'It was such a shock,
" 'and so unlike him in the first place.
" 'I'm still waiting to come back down to earth.' "
Ah!
Now...
I think... Looks like a small cross.
Oh, good! So that tells us everything, then.
I think I'm ready for a strong cup of coffee.
And? Does it tell us anything? Well, it depends how you look at it.
Quite literally.
But it does at least suggest one very slender,
possible line of inquiry.
I mean, what on earth do you think we're looking at then, some sort of
amazingly elaborate set-up, designed to just freak us all out, or...?
Well.
A very calculated deception is certainly part of it,
but...strangely, I can't help feeling it has nothing to do
with this writing on the wall.
And now!
By means of collusion with the celestial forces
that shape our destiny, I shall make my prediction!
And place it in this envelope, which I will hand to the lovely Delia.
And, Jessie.
If you would peel off the cellophane from that
deck of playing cards, thank you?
Break the seal, and carefully slide out the pack
and place it on the table.
Cut the pack,
and show the card you have just chosen to the audience.
SHE SNEEZES
SHOUTS OF EXASPERATION
No, wait - that was... Please, don't go.
Please...!
So he WAS just completely rubbish, basically. Well...
Anyway, thank you, Mr Greeley, for fishing that out.
One of his last ever performances, sadly.
Just before he gave it all up to go to work in a bank.
Why all the critics all had to be so cruel... We all have our off-days.
No doubt this whole affair will be featuring prominently
in the next edition of your parish newsletter?
Well... A more astonishing phenomenon would be hard to imagine,
and when a man of YOUR reputation is baffled, what else are we to think?
That his powers of clairvoyance were more remarkable than anyone gave him credit for?
That now, 40 years after Astrodamus retired,
we may be witnessing his finest hour?
Erm...I don't think so. Do you?
Well... Time will tell, Mr Creek.
Remember, not everyone shares your cynicism.
I think you'll find that round here most people's minds are still very much open...
to all sorts of wondrous possibilities.
Yes. I had noticed.
CHATTERING
In the words of Ebenezer Scrooge - I'll retire to Bedlam.
That's why we call them your flock, darling, because they behave like sheep.
Did you get the bread rolls? Last two in the shop.
Like a plague of locusts had been through.
TEXT ALERT
Now, that's awkward. The rector at St Mark's has got whooping cough.
He's asking if I could step in tonight for their evensong.
Well, how is that going to work with my hospital visits?
You know Sally and Frida are both tied up on Mondays.
Where are we going to find a baby-sitter at this short notice?
So, you know where everything is - I'd imagine Hugh's going to be back
probably nine at the latest, and honestly, I don't think you'll have any trouble,
but you've got both our mobiles... Yes. Yes.
No, no, if it's of any help to you in your deliberations, be my guest.
I think those'll be the parish records for the period you're after.
Births, deaths and marriages.
I'm amazed they were all still here, to be honest.
Well...it's definitely a long shot, but
pre-Google, I wasn't sure where else to look, so...thanks.
Listen, we can't tell you how much we appreciate this. Our pleasure. We'll be fine!
Bye, Polly. Bye, Jonathan! You're an angel!
THUNDER RUMBLES
Fast a-kip up there now, bless him.
Such a shame they have to grow up, isn't it? And become people.
You know, I don't know how you could take offence at this.
It was so tastefully done.
Yes, I was talking to a woman in the post office this morning who'd been in to see it.
She said she particularly liked the way my penis followed her round the room.
What is it you're looking for in there, anyway, or am I not allowed to ask?
What's that, marriages you're on now? From the '60s?
It's the most tenuous of theories, but
unfortunately it's the only one I've got. If I'm wrong, I'm just going to look like a pillock.
But on the other ha...
hand...
Ah-ah-ah! There you go.
Just goes to show, if you look long enough and hard enough, you'll find it.
Hooray! The God particle(?)
CLAP OF THUNDER
Watch your language in here. Sorry.
Still a long way from locking it up of course, but
proof at least we could be on the right track. Oh, good.
Very obvious to YOUR eyes, I'm sure, but...
No?
Isn't it funny - you still can't see it?
CLAP OF THUNDER
What? No, it's... Out there.
I thought I saw something.
RUSTLING
What WAS that? What did you see?
Too quick. Soon as I got near it was off through the bushes
and then...I dunno, into those trees somewhere.
CLAP OF THUNDER
What IS that?
It's like a giant paw print.
Not like any paw print I've ever seen.
This was made by a human hand.
BABY WAILS Oh...
Oh, dear... BABY WAILS
Oooh... Think we might have a bit of a leak here actually.
Remedial action definitely required.
Oh, of course...
That's exactly it - what's been going on.
Clear as crystal now.
What is? What have you seen now?
Nothing we didn't see the first time we came in this room,
only now of course it's screaming at us.
Yes, well, not the only thing that's screaming...?
Oh, yeah. Sorry...
What an extraordinary thing.
So, what do we think? The plot just thickens then, basically?
Or not, actually. If you're in any doubt still about Mr Stebbings' "beast from hell"
then this bin bag should pretty much seal it.
Even the most prodigious of carnivores
don't tend to be THAT handy with a Stanley knife.
And you put this together with that handprint over there,
and the two glowing green eyes...
Good Lord. What on earth are you suggesting?
DOOR RATTLES
Oh, my God, what a night.
This is doing my nerves no good at all - waking up terrified to death every morning.
Sandman again?
SHE SIGHS Didn't help, all that business in the garden.
Strange apparitions in the bushes.
And whatever time did YOU get in finally?
I looked at the clock, half past five, you still weren't there.
Can't believe you had to go back to that place.
Ferreting around at all hours of the night.
Yeah, got back about... six, I think it was, in the end.
And how come you're so bloody fresh on one-and-a-half hours' sleep, when I've had eight and I'm wrecked?
So what am I looking at here?
Three old Christmas cards from...
Captain Ian Amery-Cooper?
SHE SIGHS
It's a drug, isn't it? We're never going to wean you off.
Pointless, I suppose, to even try.
Could have been a dead end. There was no guarantee.
The old mental flow chart. You know, one black bin bag led to another.
20-odd years' worth of Christmas cards?
If you're looking for an old family friend,
seemed like a good place to start. An old family friend...
Who the hell is Ian Amery-Cooper?
Someone who's going to explain how a set of winning lottery numbers
were painted on a wall 50 years before anyone picked them out?
That's what I'm hoping.
I would try and take you through it, but...
first day back at the office? I know you don't want to be late.
Definitely. We'll have that storyboarded up for you by Monday at the latest, so
hopefully talking figures middle of next week. Bye-bye. Bye.
..By means of collusion with the celestial forces that shape our destiny...
I shall make my prediction!
No, wait - that was... Please, don't go.
Yes...
Yes, yes.
Thank you, Mr Greeley. That could well be more helpful than you imagined.
No, no, that's fine. What time would be good for you?
OK. Great.
No, I'm hoping actually it'll be very much
to your advantage, so...
Yeah. See you then. Bye.
Very much to whose advantage?
How did it go with the number crunchers?
Erm...yeah, good, good, that's all going to work out.
What are your plans tonight?
No idea. But I've got a feeling you're about to tell me.
Well, if we can get everything to slot together,
I think tonight might just see a resolution to our puzzle.
Though I'm going to need a bit of help from you in the meantime.
Go on.
I think we've got quite enough ammunition now
to flush him out, but...
something tells me that Sir Leonard Corbyn's going to pay more attention to a woman.
We've definitely come to the right place here?
As per the instructions.
HE SNIFFS Hmm...
Think that tells the story.
HUBBUB OF VOICES
Mr Creek - good evening.
Ah. Polly, can I introduce Captain Ian Amery-Cooper?
Mmm... This is welcome.
Homeless, rudderless, but not yet hopeless, we like to feel.
And culinary discretion certainly unimpaired. They won't put up with any slop.
Premises far from ideal, of course,
but until that spanking new hostel lands in our lap...
So. Yes, I'm sorry I seem to have proved so elusive.
The "captain" bit had pretty much defeated me.
Armed forces, serving and retired - not an Amery-Cooper in sight.
Till it came back to me, a fleeting image of a different kind of uniform in that old bit of film.
I imagine would have been...
Yes. My father, God bless him.
Which is what led you to us.
But what a strange and convoluted business.
I've no idea how you made all those connections.
Obviously very happy to fill in the gaps for you,
but did you say you'd also invited, erm...?
Well, not so much an invitation, more an appeal to his conscience, if he had one.
CAR ENGINE
And it appears...that he has.
So, in addition to all the other charges currently being
levelled against you, Mr Corbyn, would it be fair to add one more?
The charge of fraudulently depriving this man of his lottery winnings?
All right. I'm here, aren't I?
That tells you everything you need to know.
I never imagined this was going to be pleasant,
so let's just hear what you've got to say, and skip the rhetorical questions.
A miraculous prediction, discovered a few days ago,
of your six random numbers
was clearly never anything of the kind.
Odds against that happening would be astronomical, even for Astrodamus.
But people do pick lottery numbers all the time that aren't random.
And those numbers come up.
And the only way this made sense
would be if the winning line on that lottery ticket had actually
been chosen in the first place because it appeared on that wall.
Which would make your claim of a chance selection
purchased "on a total whim"...
..suddenly rather suspect.
And might well raise the question,
was that gift to the village hall made more out of guilt than charity?
So what was the real story here?
The words underneath had to be the trigger.
"Will win" - just a bit too good to be true.
But with that little symbol in between them...
not a cross, I would suggest, but a plus sign,
all a bit more mundane.
Two screw-marks in the skirting board
suggested a nearby phone point in the bedroom, years ago.
Mid-60s, probably not something that common.
And then how much of a stretch is it to imagine our young Mr Ipswich
there one day, redecorating the bedroom,
walls all nicely plastered, waiting to be papered,
when he gets a call from a friend in the village.
PHONE RINGS
Hello?
Can I suggest one of your parents?
My mother's family,
and my father's, would both have been connected around the same time.
So we'd be talking three years before they were married,
five before I was born.
One of them, at any rate,
has just called to give him the two new phone numbers.
He's standing there with his hands full - what does he do?
So a couple called William and Winifred, as it happens,
weren't that hard to trace, when it came to it.
And obvious candidates for the real owners of that lottery ticket,
if they were still around.
If not, maybe someone closely related
who might have kept in touch for a while, at Christmas...
I never knew, obviously, about that writing on the wall.
But I'd seen something similar once
in an address book an old friend of the family fished out.
The way all those figures fell, and the thing with my parents' names,
well, it was just meant to be, wasn't it?
"One day," I thought, "who knows? Maybe I 'will win'."
And then, after 12 years, every week, of trying,
the ultimate cruelty.
INAUDIBLE
I won't repeat what I said when I watched the draw.
The following three weeks,
thankfully, I was out of the country in Southern Angola.
Helps to put things into perspective, rather.
The most bizarre thing, you know -
when something like that lands at your feet...
'From the way I lead my life,
'I might have expected some kind of censure or reckoning,
'but instead, here was this -
'a sudden, overwhelming endorsement.' Woo!
TV: Coming from now is number 32.
It's number 47!
And finally, for our jackpot number this week, it's number 30!
HE CHUCKLES
'What other message to take from that but "enjoy"?'
Foolish, I suppose, to think that's how the world works.
Much of the time, sadly, it does.
But that's the challenge
for those of us who believe in more than this world.
The sordid question of...
Yes. Er, no. To be addressed. Sure.
You said something about a...spanking new hostel.
Goodness, yes.
The Bernard Cloony Centre, perhaps.
Sorry. No. Stop it!
ALISON: Just off then now, darling, see you later!
Yes, take care! Bye!
DOOR CLOSES
Hi, it's me.
Where are you?
Yes, sounds perfect.
So...that little thing we discussed -
do you think now would be the right time to go for it?
Wonder how he'll be, after everything.
According to the sister on the ward,
they're really thrilled with his progress.
Ironically, once the word got through about this big prediction
it seemed to be a bit of a turning point.
She said he's virtually back to his old self.
Oh, dear.
No, it's been quite a triumph all around, indeed! Hmm.
Mr Ipswich. Hi, how you doing?
Exceedingly well, since you ask!
You remember Jonathan? And I'm Polly.
He's had quite a busy time of it since he got back, haven't you?
Visits and phone calls from neighbours and well-wishers...
Local TV news team,
cameras and lights, the lot.
All wanting to know how I did it.
But that would be telling.
Yes, I'm considering making a comeback!
Well, let's not get carried away.
What do you mean? Great idea!
Whole new fan base out there, don't want to let them down.
Mr Creek was a bit of a sceptic, of course.
TEXT MESSAGE TONE But he's laughing on the other side of his face now.
That's a mark of your genius
that even he's had to cry off in ignominious defeat.
Hmm. Yes.
Mr Greeley, have you got a second? I wouldn't mind a quick word.
Mr Greeley, much as we all value the role of your parish magazine
in keeping us abreast of local news,
I just wondered if you'd agree
there are certain codes of practice to be observed
in the gathering of that news.
Well, how do you mean? Of course,
one would never want to cross the line into any, shall we say,
unethical behaviour...
Oh, good. I just wondered how you felt, Mr Greeley,
about the professional ethics of,
for example, hacking into someone's baby monitor?
Erm....
How would that work, exactly?
From your point of view, quite easily, I imagine.
The stories come in, no questions asked, you just print them.
Stories based on intimate conversations about badgers,
and Japanese knotweed, in the privacy of someone's bedroom.
Obviously I can't reveal my sources,
but it would appear that only 15 minutes ago a "rogue reporter"
was actually caught in the act.
Hi, it's me. Where are you?
Yeah, sounds perfect.
So, that little thing we discussed -
you think now would be the right time to go for it?
The coast is clear.
I think we can settle this once and for all, don't you?
No problem. I'm on the case.
Oh, would you believe it, it looks as if Mr Creek was right.
MONITOR CRACKLES
So, you'll be the man who's been going through our rubbish.
And that large shape that was seen crawling into the bushes...
..through the eyes of a passer-by
well tanked up from a night at the pub...
Not really mysterious enough, did you think,
to be worthy of inclusion?
Good grief! Well, I shall certainly look into this one, rest assured.
And if I hear there's been any hint of chicanery on anyone's part...
You wouldn't be in the least surprised.
So anyway, lovely fresh bedroom, Mr Ipswich. Are you pleased?
Brought you some fruit, look.
And also some magazines...
and puzzle books.
Nothing of any practical use, then.
And who are you?
POLLY SHRIEKS
Want to make this quick and painless.
Tell us what you got that's worth taking, and where we can find it.
Bollocks to that. Get out of my house!
Or you'll do what, Grandpa?
Or I'll do this.
SHE SCREAMS
THEY LAUGH
Think you'll scare us with a toy, do you? Why don't we find out?
Shit!
GUNSHOTS CONTINUE, GLASS BREAKS
Panic over. Take care. All the best.
So, Japanese knotweed not knotweed,
according to our garden expert friend. Just something very similar.
Panic over, good result.
What?
Oh, no, it's just the way it keeps on coming back.
Goes away for a bit, and then...
This morning, in that room with Mr Ipswich,
I just suddenly just saw it. Isn't it funny? The whole thing.
The Sandman.
I must have been, I don't know, about five or six.
I had this rabbit, Twitcher.
And then that awful thing -
one day they told me I had to be brave and say goodbye.
Polly...
INAUDIBLE OVER MUSIC
This nice gentleman was going to come round, the Sandman,
and quietly put her to sleep.
Well, I didn't know what a vet was.
To me he was just the most frightening person in the world.
And of course, this is where we buried her.
I had this stupid idea,
if we grew carrots here, she'd always have something to eat.
And that's how it started.
How many fathers would do that?
Every year since.
Right up to the end,
he's been coming out here and...
Scattering his seed.
Has...she been saying something to you, about...?
Yeah, where did that come from?
Some weird remark she made.
I just happened to mention how my hand was feeling a lot better now.
HE SIGHS
One more little mystery, I suppose,
I'll get to the bottom of, eventually. Yes.
Please don't.