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Transcript: Laura’s New Guy, John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme 2x01

• Laura’s New Guy

• Audio Tour for Five-Year-Olds

• Moon and Sun

•Good News About Jesus

• The Wisdom of Solomon

• Stoppable: The Tram Story

• Ugly

• Negotiations

• What Feels Right

• A Tale of Chivalry and Mysterious Strangers

[background noise: people chatting]

Tom: So, Laura! What’s your new guy like, then?

Nick: Ooh, are you seeing someone?

Laura: Er, yeah, just started, yeah.

Tom: Well? So? What’s he like?

Laura: Well, you know, it’s still very early days, but I like him. I really like him.

Tom: Oh, that’s great! Well, who is he, are we allowed to know?

Laura: Yeah, yeah I think you both know him actually, Ed Reachman?

Tom: Oh, oh yeah, yeah we know him a bit. He’s really nice! Isn’t he, Nick?

Nick: Yeah, yeah, Eddie’s a great guy.

Tom: He’s really funny!

Laura: He is funny.

Nick: Yeah, a really, really funny guy. And not violent at all.

Laura: What?Nick: I said, he’s not violent. Not at all.

Laura: …he’s not violent.

Nick: No! And, as you say, he’s funny.

Laura: Y-yeah, but… but did he used to be violent?

Nick: No, no that’s the great thing about him, he’s never been violent.

Laura: But his friends are?

Nick: Are they? I didn’t know that. All the more credit to him for not being, then.

Laura: Tom…

Tom: No, really, I don’t know what Nick means at all, Ed’s not violent!

Nick: No, that’s what I said.

Laura: But if he’s not, why would you say he wasn’t?

Nick: Well, you’ve answered your own question there, haven’t you?

Laura: Nick, if you told me you were going out with someone and I said “Oh! Great! She never sets fire to things!”, what

would you think?

Nick: I’d be pleased!

Laura: You wouldn’t be a bit worried, a bit…unsettled?

Nick: No. Well, I s’pose I might wonder why you hadn’t said whether or not she was violent.

Laura: Right, fine, well, um…I think I’m gonna go.

Tom: No, Laura, don’t…

Laura: No, I think I will. Bit of a walk. See you. Bye.

[she leaves]

Tom: Nick – wouldn’t it just be easier to tell her that you fancy her?

Nick: No, no, no. It’s not my style. I’m just gonna subtly put her off every other man in the world.

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Moon: Can I have a word with you, Sun?

Sun: Any time you like, Moon.

Moon: Well, look. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I was wondering, if you wouldn’t mind, possibly, just…backing off a

bit.

Sun: From you?

Moon: From me, and from the Earth.

Sun: Okay. Might be tricky, er…why, though?Moon: Well, i-it’s just, the earth and I are getting on really well at the moment.

Sun: Oh, yes?

Moon: Yeah, we’ve got this shared interest in…tides. Thing is, when you come round every day, it’s making me look a bit

bad, in comparison.

Sun: Oh, right.

Moon: Yeah. There I am, shining my hardest, illuminating everything, and you know what they call it? Night!

Sun: Oh dear, er…so let’s see if I’ve got this straight. You want me to back away from the Earth, leaving the Earth where it is.

Moon: Please.

Sun: And you want me to stop coming round the Earth so often.

Moon: Would you mind? I, I just think it would make me look better.

Sun: …leaving aside certain practical difficulties, better in what way?

Moon: Well, you know, brighter.

Sun: Oh, I see! You want me to go further away so that your light, the light you shine, will seem brighter.

Moon: Yes! Is that so hard?

Sun: It’s quite hard.

Moon: It’s just when I’m compared every day with a vast miasma of incandescent plasma like you, I can’t help feeling a bit—

Sun: Eclipsed?

Moon: I knew you weren’t fine with that! How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?

Sun: No, I am fine with it, it was funny, “Hey! Earth! Look, look, I’m as big as the Sun!” oh, it was a funny joke.

Moon: Yeah.

Sun: Because it’s so untrue. Sooo untrue.

Moon: Yes. I know.

Sun: But anyway, look, I’d like to help, I’d be quite happy to move away, leave you and the Earth where you are and let youbeam forth your powerful moonlight in peace—

Moon: Thanks.

Sun: —I just don’t think it’s…possible.

Moon: Not possible?

Sun: No, sorry.

Moon: Right. Fine, no worries. […]Stuck up sod. Thinks the world revolves around him.

Man: Have you heard the good news about Jesus?

Woman: No, what is it?

Man: Natwest has approved his mortgage application! So he’s gonna buy that flat in Cirencester!

Woman: Oh, that’s great! Where’s he staying ’til then?

Man: He’s going back to see his family in Portugal. And he’s invited us to go and stay with him!

Woman: That’s amazing! What a friend we have in Jesus!

Man: Amen.

Woman 1: Hear my plight, O Mighty King Solomon, whose wisdom is praised above all things.

Solomon: Oh, not all things. Just a lot of things.

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Woman 1: Great King, this woman stole away my child in the night, and now sayeth that it is hers.

Solomon: Is that what you sayeth?

Woman 2: Aye, and I say it truly. This woman here, oh wise and sagacious king, pretends my own child is hers, that she might

take it from me.

Solomon: Right, so you both say the kid’s yours.

Both Women: Yes.

Solomon: All right. Then which of you can tell me this: what is his name?

Woman 2: Aaron.Woman 1: [over her] Eli.

Solomon: Aha! …of course, for this to work, I need to know what his name really is. Er…what is it?

Woman 1: Eli.

Woman 2: Aaron.

Solomon: Ah, I thought that might work. Er, okay, ooh, ah, try this. What colour are his eyes?

Both Women: Brown.

Solomon: Really? You’re both saying brown?

Woman 2: They are brown.

Solomon: You sure? Because if when I take my hands away it turns out they’re not brown, you both lose. So, simple game

theory would suggest that one of you should switch to blue. No? Neither of you? Okay, let’s have a look… yep, they’re brown.

Ooh, I know! Let’s put him in between you, you both call him, and see who he comes to.

Woman 1: He can’t walk.

Solomon: No, but he can sort of wriggle about, can’t he?

Woman 2: No.

Solomon: Oh. To be honest, then, it beats me why you’re both so keen on him. Ooh! I’ve got it now, this is a really good one.

Bring me a sword!

Woman 1: A sword? W-what do you want a sword for?

Solomon: I’ll tell you what I want a sword for, thank you, [swishes sword] With this sword, I shall divide the living child in

twain and give half unto one and half unto the other.

Woman 2: That’s just stupid.

Solomon: It’s not stupid, it’s the wisdom of Solomon, so shut up.

Woman 1: It is stupid. You’d just kill him.

Solomon: Yeah, I know I’d kill him! I know what swords are for, thank you very much. It’s the only way to be fair.Woman 2: It’s not fair, it’s crazy!

Woman 1: Don’t worry, he’s not gonna do it, it’s a trick.

Solomon: I am gonna do it. I’m gonna cut him in half. Right now. With this sword. […] Unless one of you stops me. Because

I am a wise and just king…I will now…bisect…this little baby.

[baby begins to cry]

Solomon: Oh, come on! One of you back down!

Woman 1: No!

Solomon: I wasn’t gonna do it, but do you know what, now I’m gonna have to, do you want it down lengthways or down the

middle?

Woman 1: No, let her have him!

Woman 2: [over her] No, give him to her!

Solomon: Well don’t both say it! What’s the point of you both saying it?

Woman 2: Well, what did you think, one of us would go, “Oh well, half a dead baby’s better than no baby”?

Solomon: Yes! I thought only the mother would give up her claim to save the baby!

Woman 1: No, we both like the baby, that’s the whole problem!

Woman 2: You’re – you’re an idiot!

Solomon: Well, look, I’m sorry! I’m trying my hardest here, I’m sorry if my wisdom isn’t wise enough for you, I’m just trying

to do the right thing for little Isaac!

Woman 1: His name’s Eli.

Woman 2: Er… er, no, it’s, um…

Solomon: A-ha!

Woman 2: er, Aaron, it’s Aaron!

Solomon: Too late!Woman 2: Damn it!

Solomon: The wisdom of Solomon, ladies, never underestimate it.

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Announcer: This summer, an epic motion picture brings you the romance, the danger, the compulsion of the only remaining

form of transport we haven’t done a film about yet. Stoppable: The Tram Story! Staring Olly Rockbooker as Sam ‘the Tram’

Armstrong.

Sue: Sam, please, I’m begging you, stay away from the trams!

Sam: Can’t do it, Sue. I’m a tram driver, trams are what I drive.Sue: But the doctors say the trams are killing you!

Sam: God damn it Sue, if I have to live without trams, ain’t I already dead?

Announcer: And Jessie Baine as Sally Stairs, the small-town girl with a big-time dream: to drive the trams.

Man: So. You’re the little lady who reckons women can drive trams.

Sally: I reckon so, Sir, yes!

Man: Well you’re absolutely right, 45% of our drivers are women, welcome aboard!

Announcer: And special guest-starring Simeon Blackwell as Jilks, the old-timer who’s seen it all. If by ‘all’ you mean a lot of 

trams.

Jilks: Oh, oh I’ve seen sights would turn your hair grey. I’ve seen bicycles with their wheels stuck in the tram tracks.

Pushchairs, with their wheels stuck in the tram tracks. Mobility scooters with their wheels stuck in the tram tracks – it happens

a lot, is what I’m saying.

Announcer: Until one day…

Sam: So, you came to me.

Man: Sam, we need you to drive one last tram for us, this morning. And then another eight this afternoon and another sixteen

tomorrow, and then it’s the weekend.

Announcer: A story of drama…

[tram door]

Sally: Sam! I don’t know what to do, there’s a woman back there riding the tram and she didn’t validate her ticket when she

got on!

Sam: Pull yourself together, Sally, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve kinda got my hands full driving this tram!

Announcer: A story of passion…

Sam: I don’t know much about this world, Sally Stairs, but I know this: in every city with guts and heart and a kind of raw

vitality, from Melbourne to Zurich, from Antwerp to Croydon, there you will find trams, and the men and women who lovethem.

Sally: Oh, Sam, kiss me. Right here, right now, on this tram.

Sam: I can’t, Sally, I’m married.

Sally: [sigh] To the trams.

Sam: No, to a lady.

Sally: Oh, I, I, I’m so sorry.

Announcer: It’s a story of trams. Stoppable: The Tram Story.

Sue: For the love of God, won’t someone stop the tram!

[tram stops]

Sue: Thank you!

Yeah, we was always lumped together, er, me and him, when we was little. Not ‘cause we was friends, see, but, uh…because

we were ugly. Oh yeah, no, uglier than sin we were. Ha. He, he was uglier than what I was, you see, so he got the flack, you

know, the teasing, and the bullying and what have you, and I, I don’t know, I just kept me head down and used him as…sort of 

a lightning rod I s’pose, I, it wasn’t fair on him really, but lord knows he got his own back, didn’t he. ‘Cuz then we grew up,

and…turns out the bastard was a swan. That wiped the smile off me beak, I can tell you. Me horrible, twisted beak. D’you

believe it, a bloody swan! And a very fine swan, indeed! Whereas me, what happened to me was what happens to most ugly

ducklings: I became an ugly duck. Quack .

Alvin: So! The terms we’re agreed on, as I understand it, are these: an eight-week-long promotion during which every branch

of your burger bars will display posters of our kids’ movie in every outlet and give away toys based on our characters with

every child’s meal.

Burger Guy: That’s right, and the price is eighty-five million dollars.

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Alvin: That’s correct.

Burger Guy: Let’s shake on it!

Alvin: Pleasure doing business with you.

Burger Guy: And with you. Great, I’ll, er, draw up the contract.

Alvin: Great, and I’ll put some heat under our accounts guys to make sure you get your money ASAP.

Burger Guy: What?

Alvin: What?

Burger Guy: Aren’t we paying you?Alvin: What? No! We’re paying you!

Burger Guy: I, I thought we were meeting to see if we could get you to let us use your hugely popular movie characters to

attract kids to our restaurants.

Alvin: Well I thought we were negotiating to get your hugely popular chain of fast-food restaurants to promote our movie.

Burger Guy: Right, right. That does explain why the negotiations were a hell of a lot easier than I was expecting.

Alvin: Yeah, yeah, me too! I mean, you took the first price I offered, I thought you were a pushover!

Burger Guy: I thought you’d misread your notes, I jumped in before you could correct yourself, I was expecting to pay a

hundred mill.

Alvin: Yeah, me too! So… who normally pays who?

Burger Guy: I don’t know, I only joined last month, I…I just assumed we paid you, I mean your movies are huge! Loads of 

kids are gonna come into our restaurant if we give away your toys!

Alvin: Yeah, but your restaurants are everywhere, I mean loads of kids are gonna come to our movie if they’ve been given

toys for it.

Burger Guy: Yeah, they both sound plausible, don’t they?

Alvin: Yeah. Um…okay, look, hand on, I-I’ll phone my boss.

Burger Guy: Won’t they expect you to know this sort of thing?

Alvin: Don’t worry, I’ll be subtle.

[phone rings, is picked up]

Alvin: Ah, hi, it’s Alvin here.

Boss: Alvin! How’s negotiations going?

Alvin: Uh, yeah pretty well, pretty well, er, not bad, the figure on the table at the moment is eighty-five million.

Boss: What?! That’s crazy!

Alvin: Yeah, I know, it’s a surprising amount of money, because it’s so…Boss: So low! Do you need me to tell you that’s low?

Alvin: No, no, I know it’s low, and of course, for us, that’s, erm, that’s, er…

Boss: That’s what?

Alvin: …er, important.

Boss: Yeah! So, don’t waste time talking to me, get back in there!

Alvin: Yeah, yeah get back in there. I-in order to…

[phone disconnects]

Burger Guy: Er, any luck?

Alvin: Well, she has strong feelings about it.

Burger Guy: Which way?

Alvin: Not sure. Er… look, why don’t you phone your boss?Burger Guy: Yeah, that’s the logical thing to do next, but for the purposes of this sketch, let’s say I’ve already done it, and it

didn’t help.

Alvin: Okay, well, as I see it, there’s two things we can do. One, toss a coin for it, the winner charges the loser a hundred

million pounds and if it turns out that’s the way round it usually is, we’re both fine. If it’s the wrong way round, one of us gets

fired and the other one has pulled off the best deal ever.

Burger Guy: Yeah! High risk, though, what’s the other choice?

Alvin: We could divide the money between us, run off to the Bahamas and stop using toys to bribe children to eat badly.

Burger Guy: Oh, great, let’s do that!

Nora: Hello, Dr. Aston.

Doctor: Hello, Nora. Welcome. So, how’s this week been?

Nora: Oh, hard. Really hard. Trevor was waiting outside work again today, said he’d been there all day, he, um…he asked me

again. To run away with him. Says if I don’t, he’ll kill himself.

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Doctor: And do you believe him?

Nora: I don’t know. He always says that, but maybe this time he means it, so maybe I should. And it’s my fault, really, I must

have encouraged him.

Doctor: Do you think you encouraged him?

Nora: Well, not really. I always told him I wasn’t interested, but like he says, I was probably using psychology on him. So…

perhaps I owe it to him to do what he wants, I don’t know. What do you think?

Doctor: What do you think?

Nora: No, no but really, what do you think? Doctor Aston, I, I really need some advice.Doctor: Well, Nora, you know I can’t tell you what to do, it’s your decision. What I can do is help you explore it. For instance,

when you contemplate running away with Trevor, what feelings do you have about your husband?

Nora: I know, I-I know Patrick would be heartbroken, but the thing is, he’s so loving and nice, he’ll find someone else easily,

a-and they’ll be happy. Whereas Trevor, you know, with his tempers and everything, he might not find anyone else.

Doctor: Mmhm, yup. And what about your children?

Nora: Well, er…Trevor says I can bring one of them with us, um, but only one because he needs the other back seat for his

wolfhound, um, she, she gets sick if she rides in the boot. But, that’ll be quite good, probably, because then Patrick and me’ll

have one of the children each, so that’s fair.

Doctor: Right. Of course it’s possible Patrick would go to court.

Nora: Yeah, well, that’s why we’re going to go on the run. Er, Trevor’s already moved out of his house, and burnt it down…

and, and he’s gonna follow his dream of getting a job in a travelling fairground, a-and until then, w-we’ll just sleep in the car. I

mean… [sigh] when I say it out loud like this, it sounds a bit stupid. But when Trevor says it, it all makes sense!Doctor: Does it.

Nora: So what d’you think I should do?

Doctor: I really can’t tell you what to do.

Nora: Oh, I wish you could.

Doctor: Yup. So do I. But I can’t, I can only guide you towards what feels right to you. What feels right . And not what feels…

completely insane.

Nora: Well, neither of them feel right, I mean, staying with Patrick makes me feel happy and relieved, and stops me feeling

sick, ‘cause I love him and he loves me—

Doctor: That’s interesting.

Nora: …but it means upsetting Trevor.

Doctor: Mm.Nora: …whereas running away with Trevor makes me feel panicky and I cry a bit, but…I wouldn’t have to say no to him,

so…so maybe I should run away with Trevor…

Doctor: Okay, well, before you decide—

Nora: I think I have decided.

Doctor: Before you decide, here’s, uh, here’s a technique: imagine yourself a week from now, if you’ve chosen to go with

Trevor. So, you and your daughter are living in Trevor’s car, with his wolfhound, as he drives around, avoiding the police, and

hoping to run into a travelling fair to join.

Nora: Yeah.

Doctor: Yeah, okay, now picture how you might be feeling. Do you feel regretful, worried about your kids, sorry for Patrick,

do you feel like the pattern of self-sabotage we’ve talked about here for years has re-established itself at all? Or do you feel,

and this is equally valid, do you feel…basically fine?

Nora: Mmmm, it’s hard to say…Doctor: Is it? Really? Is it?

Nora: Ooh, um…ah… I think I would feel…basically fine.

Doctor: Do you?

Nora: Yeah. Yeah, I think so, because maybe Trevor’s turned over a new leaf. ‘Cause all he needed was someone who loved

him to make him give up the drink and the drugs and the illegal dog-fighting ring.

Doctor: Yes. Yes, maybe, what’s another possibility?

Nora: I, I dunno, I’m so tired, just tell me what to do.

Doctor: Nora. I can’t tell you what you should do, or SHOULD NOT DO. All I can do is help you look at the decision

yourself, look at it head on: your loving husband and kids on one side, your arsonist, dog-fighting stalker on the other, and see

what feels right.

Nora: Tell you what, cough once for Trevor—

Doctor: No, listen—

Nora: and twice for Patrick.

[Doctor Aston coughs twice]

Nora: Thank you, Doctor Aston, thank you so much.

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Doctor: Just a cough.

Nora: Oh, was it? I thought you were saying stay with Patrick.

Doctor: Yes, I was saying Patrick, obviously Patrick, Trevor’s a psychopath, stay with your loving family and stop

deliberately screwing up your life!

Nora: Okay. Right.

Doctor: …is one point of view you might want to consider.

Welcome to the Pittman Museum of Fine Arts. For the standard audio tour of the collection, press 100. For a guide aimed at

older children, press 200, and for a guide aimed at five-year-olds, press 300.

[3 button sounds]

You’ve selected the audio tour for five-year-olds. To begin, enter the large vaulted gallery across the hall. Devoted chiefly to

artefacts from the civilisations of Ancient South Asia, it contains arguably one of the most fascinating exhibits in the whole

museum: you can find it between the big pot and the carpet with all the cross men fighting. And it’s a quite remarkable

example of an early twenty-first century fire extinguisher. Made in 2008 by C. H. Sharp & Company, fire extinguishers like

this one are used every day by real firemen in yellow hats. It’s a very different world from ours, but perhaps we can get just a

sense of what it must be like for them by running round and round the room pretending to be a fire engine. Nee-naw, nee-naw.

When you’ve finished doing that, step through the arch to your right, into the gallery of the early Flemish masters, where, if you stand on tippy-toes and look out the window, you can see a lorry!

_____ ______

This gallery is devoted to the masterpieces of the Italian Renaissance. But they’re all boring. There is one of a horsie, but

whilst it is a capable rendering, it is badly let down by the artist’s failure to show the horsie doing a poo. However, you may

notice something about this gallery that’s rather special. It’s really, really long and thin, and although there’s carpet down the

middle, fascinating, this has been removed at either side, revealing the highly polished wood that lies beneath. It is thought by

many that if we were to take off our shoes and run as fast as possible, we could do epic skidsies! Skidsiiiiiiies!

_____ ______

You are now standing in the centrepiece of the museum: the Egyptian Gallery. But there’s no mummy, so hey. However, this

gallery does contain what is generally agreed by five-year-olds to be the jewel of the museum’s collection. If you look to the

left of the big cat with no ears, you’ll see a funny man in a chair. His name is Rory, he’s here to make sure robbers don’t steal

anything, and look at his nose. I mean, just look at it. It’s sort of mainly red, but it’s got all purple bits in it, and it’s ginormous.

Until recently, it was not thought that a man’s nose could even get that big, but recent evidence indicates that it can, because

this man’s has. Two questions continue to perplex five-year-old scholars: how did it get like that, and what happens when he

sneezes? Maybe Mummy will know. Let’s loudly ask her.

_____ ______

This room’s…just more pictures. But I tell you what, go up to the three pointy ones in the middle, put your head on one side,

and then repeat after me: “Mummy, they’ve misattributed this triptych to Giotto.” I promise, it’ll be worth it.

Finnemore: Well. Since you ask me for a tale of chivalry and mysterious strangers, I believe I have something that will meet

the case. My story takes place during one of the long hot summers of which the year 1930 was so unaccountably made up.Anxious to escape the heat, I bethought myself to visit Bognor, to take the waters, and Bournemouth, to drop them off. I

managed to secure a compartment on the train to myself, took out my copy of The Daily Express and spread it over the table,

so as to keep clean my copy of The Times. At that moment, the compartment door was flung open and a stranger burst in!

[door opens]

Finnemore: The intruder was a young lady of some twenty-three summers, but as I say, it had been a peculiar year, so she was

eighteen. ‘Hello there,’ I said, but at once she put her finger to her lips, frowned, realised she wasn’t the one speaking and put a

finger to my lips. ‘Pray, do not betray me,’ she seemed to say, with her eyes.

Girl: Pray, do not betray me.

Finnemore: …and then did say, with her mouth.

Girl: But, kind sir, if you have any compassion in your soul, hide me, at once!

Finnemore: I did not have to be told twice!

Girl: Hide me, I beg of you!

Finnemore: But of course, she had no way of knowing that. Without a second thought, I’d seized the fair intruder by the waist

and lifted her up onto the baggage rack. With a second thought, I realised I had not so much hidden her, as placed her more

prominently on display. My third thought, however, was a happier one, and when I had finished enjoying that, I had a fourth

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thought. I opened the capacious travelling trunk I had brought with me, emptied out the capacious swimming trunks it

contained, and looked at her meaningfully. She at once understood, and no sooner had she put my plan into action when two

roughenly strangers burst in! One was tall, the other short. One was thin, the other fat. One was hairy, the other bald. One was

a dog, the other a cat – no, I, I’m getting carried away. Er, one was not a dog, er, the other was not a cat. Presently, the one

who was tall, thin, bald and not a dog, spoke.

Uncle Singus: Forgive this intrusion, sir…

Finnemore: he purred insinuatingly, his eyes darting around the compartment like a lizard in a compartment.

Uncle Singus: …but my associate and I were just looking for…for, er…Uncle Scarface: Our niece.

Finnemore: his stunted accomplice supplied.

Uncle Singus: Er, precisely so, our niece.

Finnemore: Your niece! You are, then, Uncles, by trade?

Uncle Singus: Er, we are indeed, sir! Professional Uncles. And it is precisely in that capacity that we embark, sir, in our niece-

seeking errand.

Finnemore: Well what does she look like, this niece of yours? I asked, endeavouring to enter into the character of an innocent

traveller, [Scottish accent] Can you not, er, describe her to me? [back to previous accent] I added, entering further into the

character and discovering he was Dundonian by birth. [Scottish accent again, this time with a stutter] I mean t-to say, her

ap-p-p-pearance? [back to previous accent] I concluded, subtly dropping in a stutter which I felt sure my character suffered.

Uncle Singus: Her appearance? Well, um, she looks very much like most nieces look, didn’t she, er, Uncle Scarface?

Uncle Scarface: Wha-er, yes. Tell you what she did look like, though – you know them incredibly wealthy heiresses to icing-

sugar fortunes what are always getting kidnapped on trains, well, she sort of had that look about her.

Finnemore: ‘Did she, indeed,’ I replied, feeling instinctively that in the surprise of this revelation my character would

naturally lose both his stammer and his Scottish accent.

Uncle Singus: Mmm, as it happened she did have rather, a in-the-process-of-being-kidnapped-casting-sugar-heiress caste to

her countenance, yes, hm, she was always being teased for it at school.

Finnemore: Indeed. Then I am afraid I cannot help you, I have seen no-one in the least similar to that description. Why do you

want to find her, anyway?

Uncle Singus: Oh, well, she, um…she, er…

Uncle Scarface: She forgot to write us thank-you letters.

Uncle Singus: Precisely, for the rich and generous gifts we bestowed upon her at Christmas, hm-hm. So we just wanted to tell

her that she mustn’t worry about it; it’s quite all right.

Finnemore: If I see her, I’ll be sure to pass on the message. But for now, gentlemen, I will bid you good-day.

Uncle Singus: Of course, good-day. Oh, but before we leave, I fear I may have dropped my handkerchief… INTO YOUR

TRUNK!

Finnemore: And with that, he sprang lithely to my trunk and flung it open, but of course, as you know, it was empty, for as I

told you I had taken out my bathing costume just before he entered.

Uncle Singus: Oh. I see I was mistaken. Well, sorry to disturb you both. Especially you, sir, as I see you were just preparing to

visit the train swimming-pool.

Girl: [putting on a deep voice] Oh, don’t mention it.

Finnemore: And with that, they were gone. ‘Well played, Madam,’ I said, turning to my companion, ‘May I say, those bathing

trunks fit you superbly.’

Girl: It was the perfect disguise,

Finnemore: she replied, colouring prettily.Girl: And thank you so much for hiding me! If those two had caught me, there would have been hell to pay!

Finnemore: Yes, it sounds like it! They’re clearly desperate fellows who would stop at nothing.

Girl: I’m afraid so. Naturally, they put on an act for you, but let me tell you, they’re actually really strict about getting their

thank-you letters on time, are Uncle Singus and Uncle Scarface!

Finnemore: ‘What?’ I cried, ‘Do you mean to say they are your uncles?’

Girl: Of course! They told you so, didn’t they?

Finnemore: Yes, but, but aren’t you the heiress of an icing-sugar fortune in the process of being kidnapped?

Girl: Ugh, don’t you start! I get enough of that at school!

Finnemore: Goodnight.

*

Outro by Simon Kane: John Finnemore’s Souvenir Programme was written by and starred John Finnemore, with Margaret 

Cabourn Smith, Simon Kane, Lawry Lewin and Carrie Quinlan. The producer was Ed Morrish. To find out more about the

show, why not buy me a few drinks. I could tell you some things…