Season 4 Episode 9: The Last Nail in the Coffin

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Rudyard Funn runs a funeral home in the village of Piffling Vale.

It used to be the only one.

It isn't anymore.

With Eric Chapman out of the picture and resting from his injuries, the field seems clear for the Funs.

However, life is never that easy, and Eric was about to make a request that none of us could have predicted.

Woodnotic Oats, created by David K.

Barnes.

Season 4, Episode 9: The Last Nail in the Coffin by Alex Lynch and David K.

Barnes.

Having sent Eric Chapman over a waterfall and cracked a few of his ribs, Rattiard was in a cheerful mood for the best part of a week.

It couldn't last, however.

Fun funerals stood empty and bereft of clients.

Ah, plus archange.

Has anybody called?

You asked me that five minutes ago.

Five minutes is a long time in funerals.

Has anybody called?

No, Roger, no one's called.

Nobody's visited.

Nobody wants us.

Nobody cares.

Why should I?

The whole village hates our guts.

Again, Chapman won't even speak to us.

He's been in hospital for a week.

He probably can't say much at all.

Probably wincing in pain whenever he moves.

Probably can't even read a magazine without an enormous amount of discomfort.

Are you finished?

No, there's so much left to enjoy.

Roger, when will you realise that crippling somebody everyone likes is never good for our business?

Georgie, any luck out there?

I've been hustling all morning and nobody's gonna ask us for a funeral, not in a million years.

And there's a rumour going around that Eric is suing fun funerals.

What?

No, that's not fair.

You nearly killed him.

It totally is.

But he's still got everything he'd ever need.

Clients, income, glory.

What could he possibly want from me?

Your shoes.

That's what I'd take.

I could do with some new shoes.

But I need them to walk in.

Should have thought of that before you chucked Eric over a waterfall.

Shouldn't ya?

George is right.

We're done for.

Chapman's going to sue us and win, and we're going to lose everything.

A house, our business, our shoes.

Nobody's taking anyone's shoes.

Things will turn around.

And if they don't, we can always skip the country.

No, we can't.

I really felt things were about to turn around for us.

Get better.

We might have been on the verge of real change.

And now, thanks to you and another bloody disaster, we're back where we started.

Running on the spot and getting nowhere.

Antigone.

What's that ringing?

It's the telephone.

I'd forgotten what it sounded like.

There!

I told you where could pick up!

Georgie, answer it!

Why?

You'll hear it.

Can't go around answering the phone all day.

People think I've got nothing to do.

Oh, get get it here.

Hello, fun funerals, and take any fans be.

Oh,

it's you.

I see.

Okay.

We'll be right there.

Chapter.

He's out of hospital.

He wants to see us.

And he's phoned ahead to the Harbour Master, so he can't skip the country.

I agree, Madeline.

Looks like we've got no choice.

Remember, our best strategy is try not to look guilty.

But we haven't done anything.

You're the one who's guilty.

If I'm going down, we're going down together.

Not as much.

Oh,

morning, everyone.

Miss Van.

Dr.

Edgware.

How's the patient?

Is he feeling vindictive?

Vengeful, even?

I patched him up.

There's no permanent damage, so he's come home to recuperate.

But he does need a lot of rest.

Of course.

I must ask you to keep it brief and to do nothing to raise his blood pressure.

For example, I am now pouring some of his whiskey, and he should not be told about it.

Cheers.

Should you be drinking during a house call?

Sorry, which of us here is a qualified doctor?

I mean, none of us, surely.

Including you.

I'm having another one.

Dr.

Edgeware?

What?

Oh, yes, go on.

You have some visitors to see you.

Ah, yes.

Show them in.

Enjoy yourselves.

Good morning, Antigone.

Georgie?

Well, Eric, no chapman.

Rudyard?

Chapman.

Well,

we just spoke to the doctor.

He sounded

positive.

He says I'll be fine, so long as I stay in bed.

Must be nice to put your feet up.

How long will it take?

A couple of months.

But I should be able to move around sooner than that.

You know, slowly and painfully.

Must be awful for you.

Yes,

it is.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

So.

How are you then?

You mean besides the obvious?

Falling down a waterfall?

Breaking some ribs?

Urgent medical treatment?

Besides all that, yes.

How are you?

How do you think I am, Rogarto?

It was more of a rhetorical question, to be honest.

Well, let me tell you.

I meant to avoid anything that might cause me stress and anxiety.

Like calling your solicitor?

Very wise.

In fact, you'd best avoid any big or potentially rash decisions about anything at all, ever again.

This is so much more embarrassing than I thought it would be.

Actually, it's funny you should say that, Rodiard, because I have been making a fairly big and potentially rash decision, and that's why I've called you all here.

As you'll appreciate, recent events, coupled with my present well-being, have left me in a difficult position.

Here it goes.

I can't run my business, and the financial implications of that could be somewhat detrimental, to say the least.

And so, while I really hate to do this, and I cannot stress that enough, it's a case of needs must when the devil drives, and so the only option I have left open to me is.

I can't stand the suspense, please don't sue us.

They can barely afford to pay me.

Eh?

What do you want?

How much?

When's the court day?

Who's your lawyer?

How small a bribe are they open to?

Put us out of our misery, man.

Please, I'm not going to sue you.

You're not?

No.

What can I sue you for?

You don't have anything.

Mind you, I would like a new pair of shoes.

Buy your own, Eric.

I'm going to.

Because even though I'm incapacitated, Chapman's will remain open for business, putting the fun in funerals as it always does.

Huh?

Simple.

You're going to run it for me.

What?

You

didn't really say that, did you?

I'm nearly as surprised as you are, but yes, yes, I did.

You want to let him run riot in your funeral home?

Don't you understand the damage he could do?

It's considerable.

I'm not wild about it, but I've got a funeral coming up, and I'm not prepared to let my clients down.

This funeral needs to happen, and it needs to happen without a hitch.

And if we do it for you, then I will consider this whole putting-me-in-hospital episode behind us.

There,

what do you say?

I say it's a trap.

A chapman trap.

A trapman.

You must admit you have deceived us in the past.

You're the only other funeral home on the island.

Who else can I turn to?

I've planned out the service already, so you only have to follow the instructions.

And

so long as you're careful, you have carte blanche to use my equipment and resources.

Even the automatic embalmer's friend 3,000.

I have an automatic embalmer's friend 8,000.

Why don't we have to?

I mean, you've just told me.

You know what?

Doesn't matter.

The point is, there are no traps, no hidden agendas.

All I'm am asking you to do is a funeral.

So,

what's it gonna be?

Antigone?

Rudyard?

All right, Japan, we agree to your terms.

One funeral.

Game on.

In that case, it only remains for me to say:

Welcome to my workshop.

Leaving Eric behind, we entered a gleaming white room filled with the latest in funereal technology.

It was clean and uncluttered and somehow uplifting.

One felt that embalming a corpse or two would be a pleasure, nay, a privilege.

It was was so beautiful.

I could have wept.

See mental.

Never seen anything like it.

We did once break into Chapman's laboratory in the cellar.

I thought that was impressive, but this.

It's like comparing a pile of Lego bricks to Versailles.

We mustn't be overwhelmed by glitz and baubles.

But look!

The embalmer's friend 8,000!

At the touch of a button, we can extract every drop of fluid from every corpse within a 30-mile radius.

Why would we want to do that?

Anger depressing!

But I feel like a child in the sweet shop where everyone's perished.

Yeah, come on, sir.

He's even got a state-of-the-art coffee maker.

I prefer our own state-of-the-art coffee maker.

You mean me?

Exactly.

The personal touch.

What we should do is...

Watch out, Richard!

This urn has not yet been occupied.

Did that urn speak to us?

Hands out a cookie jar, Rudyard!

Hello there!

Can you see me?

I can see you.

Oh, you're joking.

Ignore it.

It's just a computer.

He's got loads of them.

No, it's the real me.

I'm speaking to you on the interface.

I see you're admiring my electronic urns.

When you open them, they play a personalized message.

Could be a nice little urner.

Are you dosed up on painkillers?

Up to the eyeballs, yes.

Chapman, there's no need for you to check up on us.

Oh, it's no trouble.

Thanks to this system, I can tune in whenever I like to lend you a verbal helping hand.

God, what a freak.

Greed.

What was that?

Nothing.

Let's talk fundamentals, Chapman.

If we're getting the body in the coffin in the ground up.

If we're going to put the fun in funerals,

we ought to know whose it is.

It's for Jerry.

Jerry!

But he's been dead for years.

No, I mean, Jerry, Bill and Tanya's dog.

Oh, no.

Timmy used to play with him.

That's very sad.

The whole village liked that dog.

So we've got to get this right.

And we will.

So long as you stop interrupting us.

Have you read the instructions yet?

I don't need them.

I'm a professional, for God's sake.

Oh, shut up, Rajad.

Here we are.

Uh, a portrait painter, an orchestra, a choir of singing dogs.

Wait.

You want a special guest appearance from George Take,

yes, he's a big fan of mine.

Shouldn't be too hard to...

Oh, wait, I've got an incoming call.

Oh, it's Bill and Tanya.

Then don't let us keep you.

I'm sure you'll want to chat.

Actually, they're in the foyer.

I'd see them if I were you, so you can tell them what you've got planned.

Fine, I'll go to the foyer.

But on one condition.

And what's that?

Doors opening.

I always wanted to take a proper ride in that.

Ah, yes, Bill, Tanya.

Hello, and welcome to Shuttons.

Wait, what are you doing here?

Today, Bill, I'm preparing your beloved dog,

Jerry.

What?

But but no.

We booked a chapman's funeral.

That's exactly what you're getting.

All the fripperies you'd associate with him done that little bit better than usual.

And we're mattered.

There.

You can thank me later.

Let's talk about coffins.

No, no, there must be some mistake.

Bill, do something.

Where's Eric?

He's off sick, I'm afraid, so while he recovers, I'm in charge.

After all, as they say, the show must go on, yeah?

I want a refund!

Darling, let's not be hasty.

No, no, I'm not having this.

It's appalling.

Bill, be angry.

It's not personal, Rudyard.

It's just...

We had our hearts set on a Chapman's funeral for

our Jerry.

Well, you can take this or leave it.

Right!

We're leaving.

And we're marching straight across the square to get our funeral done at.

No, no, no, that...

That doesn't.

That doesn't work.

Let me think.

There's...

So there's Chapman's and fun funerals.

Except...

Except, well,

Rudyard's here.

And Bill, it's like we're back in the dark age when there was only one funeral home in the whole village.

They were terrible days.

How did we survive?

Could you pull yourselves together and let me give your dog a funeral?

But but but

mommy promised her little Jerry that he'd get the best send-off in piffling history.

You talk to your dog about his funeral.

Dogs love to be prepared.

I'm not Eric Chapman.

I don't have smart gadgets or fancy suits or a legion of celebrity guests.

But I'll tell you what I do have: the craft.

Years of experience and a hunger for the work.

I'm not popular, but I can still do the job.

And your Jerry will get the very best service he deserves.

That I promise you.

Have it your way.

But if you ruin this funeral, then I swear that Bill will take his revenge.

Yep.

Your threats are unnecessary.

I suggest you leave this to us, and in the meantime,

enjoy yourselves.

Oh, no.

No, that

doesn't suit you at all.

It's weird and sinister.

Noted.

Now, excuse me, I've got work to do.

Yours again.

Get some really nice lift.

The next day, we began our work in earnest, guided by the principle.

What would Chapman do?

Given that the answer to that was always win, we didn't see how we could lose.

And yet.

I've been on the line for forty minutes.

All I want is to hire a dozen of your singing dogs for a funeral.

Don't?

And who am I talking to?

Dogs for the blind.

Do any of them sing?

Hello.

Hello?

The trouble with these modern phones is you can't slam them when you hang up.

Technically you can.

Oh.

In that case.

I've broken it.

Well, yeah.

What did you expect?

That's cause and effect.

Don't worry.

It's got a spare look.

I'm more concerned with this coffee.

When you said it had to be made for a dog.

I didn't know it had to be shaped like what it is.

It doesn't have to be perfect.

Just make it to scale and let the ears poke out or something.

Okay, here goes.

How's Antigone getting on?

Antigone?

Keep down the monitor to avoid an increase or decrease in pressure beyond optimum limits.

Antigone, what's- Shhh!

Not now!

This will cause complete system failure unless the first and seventh channels are primed, the fifth is green, and the polarity of the neutron flow is presently reversed.

Oh, it's hopeless.

Why did it have to be so complicated?

The Embalmer's friend 8000.

Yes!

Look at this manual.

It's got 400 pages, and none of them make sense.

He was only in a well-ventilated area within a tightly enclosed space.

Go on then, enclose it.

I'm trying, but my arms won't stretch around that far.

Georgie can help when she's done the coffin.

Have a go at the scented candles.

I've done them, they're awful.

What do they smell of?

Wet dog.

Perfect.

It's what they asked for.

I'll cross it off the list.

Ah, right, yard!

Just the chap I wanted to see.

What can we do for you, Reverend?

It won't be long.

I just popped over to see a copy of the eulogy.

A eulogy?

Yes, for Jerry's funeral.

A first draft will do.

Actually, we were thinking you could write it.

What?

Why would you think that?

Because you're the Reverend.

But Eric usually writes them for me.

Surely he told you.

Yes, but my sister's preparing the body, Georgie's on the coffin, and I'm organising the rest of it.

What about the mouse?

She says she didn't know Jerry well enough.

But heavens above, man, what do I say?

I'm not a dog.

I have no frame of reverence.

Look, there's an an office next door.

Sit down, have a cup of tea, and you'll be writing in no time.

I have complete faith.

Well, that makes one of us.

That's it.

Go away and pour your heart out.

I couldn't repeat one of my older eulogies and cross the names out.

Jerry was a loving uncle, etc.

No, something new.

But writing fun!

Okay,

what next?

Oh, hi there, fans.

Dropping in to say hello.

Are we getting to grips with the tech, Antigone?

It basically runs itself.

Yes, yes, it's fine.

All systems go.

You haven't switched it on.

I'm building up to it.

Like this.

You'll get the hang of it.

Though mind you don't press that switch again, or you'll kill us all.

I'm not joking.

Oh, no.

And Georgie, do we have a coffin yet?

Yes, Eric.

Nearly done.

At all.

Uh.

What?

You're using oak.

You see, mahogany is so much nicer and it's far more durable.

Or walnuts, it's a little more expensive, but you can't put a price on a loved one.

So, what are you suggesting?

Well, I'm not saying start again, but start again.

You said it, not me.

And clamp a straight-edge guide while you're at it.

Could somebody clamp the patient, please?

Telephone!

We know!

I'll get it.

Antigone, why don't you try and shut him up?

Me, what can I do?

Drug his fruit bowl, beat him to death, I dunno, use your imagination!

Hello, is that the painter?

Yes, I've received your portrait of Jerry.

It's very accurate, but we were hoping you'd do one of him living instead of his corpse.

Yes?

Well, it shouldn't cost extra.

Oh, uh.

Doctor?

Miss Lunn.

I'm just checking in on the patient.

His stress levels seem to be rising.

He's not working, is he?

Not officially, no.

Ah.

Could you keep him sedated?

If it's unethical, I can do it myself.

Oh, thank you.

No, I've given him something already.

Antigone.

Should I speak to him?

Hmm, go ahead.

As for me, I've got

ten minutes till my next appointment, so I might stay for a nap.

There's nowhere to sleep.

Oh, this rug will do nicely.

Don't mind me.

You carry on.

Chapman?

Is that you, Antigone?

Yes.

The doctor says you should rest.

I will.

I will.

I just wanted to uh

say

things.

Say things?

Sort of making sure things were

okay

between us.

You mean fun funerals?

I meant you, really.

Me?

After everything that's happened, there's like no

questions about

stuff.

I thought spies never revealed their secrets.

An ex-spy might.

Why funeral directing?

Hmm?

You weren't an undertaker before you came here.

No.

So why start here on Piffling?

It's a somewhat strange career to go into suddenly.

Well, my uncle ran a funeral home, you see.

One year, he got stiffed.

Got what?

Stiffed.

The Society to Independent Functions.

Funeral firm directors, yes, of course.

You mean they held their conference at your uncle's business?

The creme de la creme of undertakers.

A big honour.

I was there to cheer him on.

The thing is, he passed out drunk before the speech, so I made one up instead.

Which went down as the best one of all time, naturally.

Yeah.

And when I had to move here, I thought,

you know,

why not?

No, Chapman.

You don't begin a whole new profession just because you managed to improvise a decent speech.

You're too invested in this, too driven.

Yes.

You're keeping something back?

Yes.

Why?

Because I wasn't always proud of my actions, and

you're you're too important to me.

I don't want you to hate me, Antigone.

Chapman?

What are you talking about?

You promised to explain.

Oh, come on, wake up, Eric!

No!

Always has to be cryptic.

Mr.

I wake up one day and decide to be brilliant at something I've never done before.

Do you know how annoying that is

now?

I'm important to him.

Typical.

Hello, Madeline.

Just failing to get some answers.

His identity bracelet.

I'd forgotten about that.

Took us a whole night in a cemetery to find it.

Yes, he's wearing it.

Why?

Okay,

if you say so, but I i don't see what you

i'm reading it but

this doesn't make any sense

sir bill's on the phone again it's about the caterers what about them he says we can't book with branigan's buffets because of an ongoing dispute between his family and theirs so what do we do

we'll need the boys to work it out i mean it's about the caterers who'd we book now butcher georgie you'll never get back and taking whatever it is, it can wait.

Why, what's happening?

The painter's pulled out.

We can't book a buffet, and the Piffling Philharmonics don't work Tuesdays.

Georgie's tried to build that coffin five times already, and it still doesn't look anything like a dog.

And Chapman's celebrity friend is holding out for a five-star hotel.

Piffling doesn't have any.

That's what I said.

Reggae!

Reggae!

Very busy, Reverend.

But the speech!

I can't do it, I tell you.

How far have you got?

Well, hmm.

Truria was a dog.

That's it, that's all I've got.

But you're an excellent writer, and you've always written the eulogies for all our funerals.

I don't have to try when I'm doing those, but this is for Eric.

It's got to be good!

Sir!

Great news.

We've got the singing dogs for the choir.

Finally!

When can we have them?

Well, they're here already.

No, don't let them in.

What are you doing?

Get off!

Don't touch me!

Dog just ate my eulogy!

Georgie!

Get rid of the dogs!

They're not even singing!

Well, yeah, you're not showing me the lyrics yet.

Oh, fuck.

Wait, what's that?

The Impalmer's friend 8,000 has been switched on.

Roger, what have you done?

You were taking too long, so I tried to get it started myself, and then I got distracted.

You weren't monitoring the dial.

The pressures too low or too high.

What does that mean?

Everyone, get down!

They all dove for cover, including the dogs.

And then.

The pipes burst, shooting out jets of unsavory fluids.

Suddenly, the whole machine cracked asunder, and the dogs were carried off on the way.

George, did we pay a deposit on those dogs?

Yes.

Oh, God, no.

Don't let go, any of you.

It can't last much longer.

Well, I'll come back in half an hour and we'll take another look at the eulogy.

Bye for now.

Watch where you step in.

Roger,

what do we do?

Hello, everyone.

Thought I heard a bit of noise.

Everything okay?

Oh, Georgie, you're so very nearly there with that coffin.

Another once or twice, I'm sure you'll get it right.

So,

anyone want a coffee?

With milk.

Okay.

Following a fruitless attempt to clean up, we glumly sat down with our cups and thimble

of decaffeinated coffee and wondered how our lives had come to this.

I don't like to say it, but on a scale of one to ten of catastrophes, this was definitely a nine.

Why not ten?

None of us died.

So, you know, that's a win.

Matter of opinion.

We had Chapman's resources, his tricks, his equipment, access to all of this.

We still failed.

What does that say about us?

We can't give up.

I'm not giving up, just facing facts.

Oh, what did you want to tell us before the apocalypse?

Hardly matters now.

Chapman's identity bracelet, the one he made us look for, it doesn't have his name on it.

Doesn't?

No.

Oh.

So whose name is on it?

Critchley.

Critchley?

Hmm, B.

Critchley.

Right.

Who the hell is B.

Critchley?

He is, I suppose.

Unless he's got the wrong bracelet.

He was a spy.

Could be a code name.

Anything else on it?

Some numbers, blood group.

It's more like a tag than a bracelet.

I doubt it matters, really.

No, I doubt it does.

Whatever his name,

he's beaten us.

Pff

never be better than Eric Chapman.

I mean,

do we wanna be better than Eric?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

Okay, sure.

We need to make a living.

We need to be good at what we do.

But that doesn't mean doing it like Eric.

We've spent so much time comparing ourselves to him when we could have been, well,

doing our own thing.

Getting better at what we do.

Easier said than done, isn't it?

We've tried before.

Mind you, we didn't do badly at that pirate parade until the riot.

Exactly.

We did okay there for a while.

And before that, when Madeline won us some good publicity we were on the verge of real change.

That's what you said Antigone and then

And then I got in the way

It's the truth, isn't it

Antigone?

I don't want to say yes, but I'm not gonna say no.

We can't beat ourselves up.

Let's face it.

We won't cut out to do a Chapman kind of funeral.

No,

but maybe we don't have to.

Regard, what do you mean?

There's still one thing we can do, better than anyone else.

And if we start now,

we might be ready in time.

Many hours passed.

When Eric Chapman next stirred from his slumber, head swirling from sedatives and painkillers, it was a brand new day.

The sun was up, the birds were singing, and all was at peace.

Ah, you are awake.

How are you feeling?

Henry, what time is it?

Uh, coming up to midday.

You've been out for quite a while.

Mind you, I only woke up five minutes ago myself.

That is a really comfortable ride.

I could have sworn I woke up earlier.

Some sort of noise, a crash, maybe even an explosion.

Ah,

yes.

I think we we should give you a sedative now.

Why?

What's happened?

Where are the funds?

These are all questions best answered once you're safely unconscious.

Oh god.

No, no, no, no, no.

Eric, Eric, you shouldn't be out of bed.

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

Ow!

Oh no!

What have they done?

My equipment, my furniture!

My coffee machine!

They were here for a day!

One day!

Look at it!

Oh, calm yourself.

Only needs a spring clean, a lick of paint.

Once you've scraped all the ooze off the walls here.

Huh.

I'm stuck to the wall.

Wait a minute.

The funds.

If it's nearly midday, that means the funeral's about to begin.

It'll be a disaster.

Eric, wait, come back.

No!

I've got to get to that funeral before it's too late.

Eric raced from the funeral home and hobbled painfully but quickly through the streets of Pierfling Vale, his dressing gown flapping with vigor.

His lungs aching for breath, his limbs trembling with the effort, Eric tumbled into the cemetery at a quarter past twelve to discover.

Listen,

it's all

fine.

Ah, there you are, Eric.

Nigel, what's going on?

Nothing's on fire, nobody's fighting.

They're just...

mourning.

Yes.

Novel, isn't it?

I was skeptical when the fun suggested this, but it seems to have worked a treat.

But where's the dog choir or the orchestra?

The portraits, the fireworks, the dog treats fountain.

We didn't have them.

Why not?

We just did the service, really.

Kept it basic.

I even wrote my own eulogy.

I realized I was overthinking it and simply wrote from the heart.

Jerry

was a good dog.

Yeah.

But

this isn't what we planned at all.

Eric?

Afternoon.

Afternoon, Eric.

Bill, Tanya, I don't know what to say.

I'm

so sorry.

Why?

Well, you look devastated.

Of course we do.

It's a funeral.

It was beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

It was?

What about all the extras you wanted?

That was your stroke of genius, Eric.

You knew that we didn't want that.

Not really.

You made it simple and traditional.

All we needed was to say goodbye.

At moments like this, you realize all that matters is being there.

Jerry's at peace now.

And so are we.

Well,

I'm.

I'm glad.

Bill,

shall we go home?

Yeah.

Come away, Tanya.

So,

the Funs knew what they were doing after all.

Yes.

Radjard was telling me about this theory of his.

You get the body in the coffin, in the ground, on time.

Then you just stand aside and let people mourn.

Quite effective.

I guess it is.

I mean, I'm not sure I'd want them all to be like this, but it's nice to shake things up occasionally.

I should congratulate them.

Where are the funds?

They're behind you.

Hello, Chapman.

Chapman.

Hey, Eric.

Shouldn't you be in bed?

I should, yes.

But uh.

I'll leave you all to it.

You must have lots to discuss.

Fabulous teamwork on this one, by the way.

I'd have liked a merry archer band, but uh, it was still a top ten.

Thank you, Reverend Chapman.

You may have noticed that we deviated slightly from your instructions.

We did pull together a buffet, but it didn't have a theme.

Just crisps, really.

Did you even manage to get hold of George Tecay?

Oh, yes, but it turned out he had nothing to do.

Rudyard, are you absolutely sure you won't need me?

No, no, George, you can go now.

Take some crisps if you like.

Oh, thank you.

I will.

In the end, Chapman, we couldn't be you, so instead we tried to be us.

All's still in your name, as agreed.

And the fee will go straight to you.

It won't quite cover the damages in your workshop, but I'm willing to overlook that if you are.

Very gracious of you, Rudyard.

So, does that mean we're even then?

Yeah.

You did me a funeral,

and I've learned a lot from it.

Enjoy yourselves, all.

You deserve it.

That's the first sensible thing he's ever said.

Yeah.

We should celebrate.

Turns out every funeral doesn't have to end in violent bloodshed, after all, eh?

So, once you put some effort into them,

no.

We may have shot for the moon and failed to reach it, but in the end, at last, we did it our way.

The best way.

Oh, good, didn't it?

Yes.

Perhaps we put less pressure on ourselves.

Because it wasn't one of ours, you mean?

Hmm, we were doing the job for the sake of doing it well.

That's true, then the pressure's back on now.

We've got a new high standard to maintain.

I hope we're up to it.

Thank you, madam.

I'm quietly confident, too.

And so the four of us left the churchyard together with high hopes of achievements to come.

As we left, I saw Eric out of a corner of my eye.

He was deep in conversation with Merz Ada Yinka, his former colleague.

It was only later that I discovered what was said.

Eric,

you get around for a a man with broken ribs.

You never forget your training.

Make your pain work for you.

To focus, thought, and action.

Never give into it.

You're in agony, though, yeah?

Oh, God, it hurts.

Yep.

Well, old friend, I'm afraid I'll be leaving you soon.

While you've been in bed, I've almost completed my mission.

Not long now.

Why don't you come with me?

They'd love to have you back at the firm.

I've told you before, I can't.

Yes, you can.

You always could.

Brett Critchley.

What about him?

We spoke to his family.

Even they want you back.

You weren't to blame for

you know what?

Come home, Eric.

We need you.

Well,

Piffling certainly doesn't.

Okay.

When do we leave?

The Last Male in the Coffin was written by Alex Lynch and David K.

Barnes.

It was performed by Felix Trench as Ruddyard, Beth Eyre as Antigone, Tom Crowley as Eric, Kira Baxendale as Georgie, Andy Seacombe as Reverend Wavering, Pip Gladwin as Bill, Emily Stride as Tanya, David K.

Barnes as Dr.

Edgware, Amy Roxon as Zoe Adiinka, and Belinda Lang as Madeline, with Mouse Squeaking from Holly Campbell.

The production manager was Elizabeth Campbell, and the music was composed by James Whittle.

The programme was recorded at the Octagon, Brixton, and was directed and produced by Andy Goddard and John Wakefield.

The crisps look very tasty.

Oh my, yum, yum.

The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish.

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