Season 4 Episode 6: Radio Drama

Charlie Sheen is an icon of decadence.

I lit the fuse and my life turns into everything it wasn't supposed to be.

He's going the distance.

He was the highest paid TV star of all time.

When it started to change, it was quick.

He kept saying, No, no, no, I'm in the hospital now, but next week I'll be ready for the show.

Now, Charlie's sober.

He's gonna tell you the truth.

How do I present this with any class?

I think we're past that, Charlie.

We're past that, yeah.

Somebody call action.

Yeah, aka Charlie Sheen, only on Netflix, September 10th.

Hey there.

You hear that?

Right?

You don't.

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No hold music while you wait to place your order.

No tap-tapping as you type in special dietary instructions or long, complicated searches for options in your budget.

No crinkling of paper receipts.

Just...

Dang, these are some tasty sandwiches.

EasyCater, the better way to order food for work.

Order now at easycater.com.

Georgie Crusoe works in a funeral home in the village of Piffling Vale.

It used to be the only one.

It isn't anymore.

Between two jobs and her private life, it can be a challenge keeping everyone happy.

Luckily, Georgie is great at that.

At least, she thought she was.

Until today.

Overcoats, created by David K.

Barnes.

Season 4, Episode 6.

Radio Drama by Gabrielle Urbina.

It was a jolly, sunny day in Pifling Vale, and its people had gone to the Pifling Fairground.

Eric Chapman was staging his most eagerly anticipated funeral so far, and his rivals were doing a bit of reconnaissance.

Look at this nonsense.

Log foods, roller coasters, a ferris wheel.

This is no place for a funeral.

Mmm, yes, outrageous.

Whatever happened to the somber dignity of death?

An inclination of the head, final pat on the back, into the hole you go.

Not very work for us.

Diggity, what's that?

It's an ice cream.

I've never had one before, and it's not bad.

We should be disrupting the funeral, not enjoying it.

Just gotta wait for it, That's the best bit.

Whose funeral is it, anyway?

Mrs.

Scruple.

Miss Scruple passed away?

No, it's her mother, Mrs.

Scruple.

She was Piffling's oldest resident, 105.

Oh, that's a pity.

But this is Chapman's first funeral in over a month, and it cannot be allowed to go off without a hitch.

Drop the ice cream and let's get to work.

You wait till I'm finished.

One ice cream can't possibly.

What?

What is it?

What's the matter?

It's my.

My head.

There's something horribly wrong.

It's like my brain is freezing.

Freezing.

You ate the ice cream too quickly, didn't you?

My life has been reduced.

And take an eight!

Well, Madeline, I suppose it's up to the two of us to snatch this victory from the jaws of Chapman.

Although

Georgie should be around here somewhere.

In fact, Radyard's intrepid assistant was embarking upon a day off with Jennifer de Lacroix.

As far as Georgie was concerned, her employer's feud would have to wait.

Okay, we've got county force, balloons, and a hing sheet for the funeral.

Do you want to hit the bump, Cars?

Nah, not until the queue's gone down.

It's the first day we've had together in ages.

We don't want to waste it standing in lane.

Come on, it hasn't been that long, has it?

We only went to the Safari Park last...

last summer.

Guess it has been a while.

I've had so much going on.

Same.

I was at the station till gone two last night.

But did your parents mind?

Still their kitchen.

I'll give them money for a takeaway.

It's fine.

But the sooner I can get my own place, the better.

It's hard enough getting people to take me seriously without having to take piffling FM off the air whenever dad wants to make a brew.

What's up?

Nothing.

You've got your serious face on.

Did I say something?

No.

But

are you worried that we don't spend enough time together?

Oh, forget it.

I shouldn't have mentioned it.

We usually have the evenings.

We do, we do.

But

between fun funerals and your work at the mayor's office.

It's close to being a town.

I know.

But I must admit, I'd also like to see you when the sun's still up, eh?

It's not that easy.

The last time I missed a shift at the Mayor's, he nearly sold sold the island to Monaco.

By mistake?

Hard to say.

What about fun funerals?

Ha!

You're joking.

If I weren't there to hold Rudyard's hand, he'd never get anything done.

There you are, Georgie.

Quick, take my hand.

We've got to get things done.

So?

No time for pleasantries.

Time is of the essence.

We've got to strike while the iron is weak.

Bobby Iron is hot, surely.

Not if you want to break the iron, no.

Now, there's gratitude for you.

Remember the pirate disaster?

Eric saved you a bacon.

That was his mistake, and I shall profit from it.

Come along!

No, sir.

It's my day off.

I'm on a date.

This is Jennifer Delacroix, Georgie's girlfriend.

You can come too.

I'm sure you can help.

What with sabotaging the funeral?

Don't think Jennifer should know that.

Georgie, this sounds like a story.

Yes, the story of how I defeated Chapman by unfortunately.

What have I told you about discretion?

You've said it's something I should practice.

And have you?

No, I'll do it later.

Are you coming with me or not?

Georgie, I'll.

I'll catch up to you, sir.

All right, but if you're late, you'll receive none of the glory!

Please, don't tell me you have just cancelled our dates.

I'll make it up to you, Jen.

I promise I will.

Oh, I don't believe this.

Please, I've got to get after him.

Fine, go, whatever.

It's important.

You don't understand.

More important than us actually spending a day together.

Jen, Rudyard's going to sabotage the funeral.

I'm sorry, he's going to what?

While Georgie stared down the barrel of an awkward conversation, Rudyard sped off towards the funeral.

Eric Chapman had organised a series of ice sculptures to honour Miss Scruple's mother, but sadly, they were beginning to melt.

I'm so sorry about this, Miss Scruple.

The movers dropped these off far too early.

Oh, no matter, Mr.

Chapman.

You've been working day and night on this funeral, and I'm sure we can live with a few soggy statues.

You've outdone yourself.

Oh, thank you.

The old villages here at the fair, having fun, enjoying each other's company.

My mother would have hated every inch of it.

She would?

Yes.

If there's one thing she despised, it was people.

She spent decades cooped up alone in that cottage up on the cliffs, making me hike up there every week with supplies.

So, what better way to pay her back than to make her send off a big noisy party with lots of people at it?

I see.

I'll bet she's gazing up at us and howling with fury

is what I always wanted.

Yes.

So long as you're happy, Miss Scruple.

Oh, one moment.

Hello, Graham.

How's stage four coming along?

Chapman!

Now look here.

I'm afraid he's busy, Mr.

Fun.

You say busy, I say distracted.

We'll put a stop to that teacup right for a start.

What was that?

Oh, I said, um, how are you on this sad day?

Oh, mustn't grumble.

My mother led a long life with scarcely any human contact at all.

Don't tell Antigone, she's a jealous type.

Of course, her death was remarkable.

Oh, really?

You see...

I've been telling her for years that I thought I could hear something

unnatural in the walls of her cottage.

Then last week one of them collapsed.

And do you know what it was, Mr Fun?

No.

An entire colony of rats have been living inside the walls.

They ate her, Mr Fun.

Et her up right down to the bones.

Oh

Lord.

They can't.

At first I thought she deserved it.

But once you had that many rats, it's simply not fun anymore.

Radyard backed away from this horrifying story and towards a patch of melting ice.

Miss Scruple, I should be getting along.

The sight will haunt me forever.

Yes, yes, I'm sure.

I'll never look at a rodent again.

Why is the ground soap?

All of them nibbling on her nose and her ears and well, this has been pleasant, but I really must.

Whoa, nearly fell there.

And then.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, nibbled,

he slipped.

Which is when...

Oh, dear.

One moment I was nestled in Radjad's pocket, safe and out of sight.

And the next, I was flying through the air

and straight towards Miss Scruple's face.

You're giving up our afternoon for a man who likes to sabotage funerals.

He doesn't do it often.

I've got to get over there and save Rujad from himself.

Lead the way?

It's the best story I've had in ages.

Georgie Crusoe stops fairground funeral disaster.

No!

You can't report on this.

Why not?

You'll be a hero.

I don't want to be a hero.

You've got to bury this.

Oh, no.

It's too late.

Roger!

Roger!

Georgie!

Well, if you're working to do it, then so am I.

This is Jennifer Delacroix, Piffling FM, with a special report from the Pifling Fairgrounds.

Meanwhile, at fun funerals, Antigone was having a quiet day.

She'd recovered from her brain freeze and was dusting some odds and ends around the parlour.

God's teeth.

You try a new thing and you pay the price for it.

Everything that seems good is actually out to kill you, while everything that seems bad is also out to kill you.

At least nothing can get at me here.

I can dust my collection of small pots in peace.

What's happening?

Is this an earthquake?

No!

I don't know!

My god!

Antigone!

Quick!

Bolt the doors!

Draw the curtains!

Pretend we're not home!

It's the only way to save our lives!

Rajard, what are you talking about?

Oh my god.

Tell what I'm talking about.

Jesus wet, Rudyard.

Everyone piffley must be out there.

Why is our home thronged by angry villagers?

That sounded like an accusation, and I resent it.

Rudyard,

you slimy troggodite.

You played a foul trick on me.

And this crowd's not leaving until you get the something you

It wasn't my fault.

You should direct your blame at

Evelyn.

Madeline!

She's still out there, she'll be killed!

Out of the way!

It's Georgie, open the door!

I swear, Sanya, I will put you into ration if I have to.

Okay, close it, quick.

Oh, flipping hell, that's a lot of angry villagers.

Madeline's out there!

She isn't, I've got her.

Madeline!

But she wouldn't need saving if you hadn't thrown her at Miss Scruple's face.

What?

I did not throw her, she slipped!

The woman's mother was eaten by a rat, so you thought you'd traumatise her some more!

It wasn't a decision!

And a mouse is not a rat!

I don't think they're fussed about the difference.

Let this be a lesson to you, Georgie.

I request your help with a tiny spot of sabotage, but you drag your heels and see what happens.

What?

Stop bickering.

That crowd's getting bigger by the minute, and they're absolutely furious.

They're not the only ones.

Would you both calm down?

Honestly, you're cornered by one angry mob and you both go to pieces.

For those of us who aren't veterans in pissing off the population, what do you suggest we do about it?

We remember the four basic tenets: a clear head, chin up, tough it out, and dignity.

Always dignity.

Let's get some proven fruits to throw in his hat.

Although it can be hard to tune out the masses, Georgie, switch on the radio, we'll distract ourselves with some light music.

This is Jennifer Delacroix, Pithling FM, with our ongoing coverage of today's mayhem.

Reports are coming in of a traumatic incident involving Miss Dorothy Scruple, grieving over the loss of her mother and Rudyard Fan, who fled the scene after an attempt to sabotage the funeral.

The citizens' militia of Pivling Vale have established a perimeter around Fan funerals, which they believe to be the breeding ground for a devastating rat leg afflicting Pivling Vale.

Thank you, Mayor Desmond, for that quote.

It was a mouse.

I must stress that this theory has not been verified, and the root of the incident may lie in a misunderstanding, but villagers are advised to remain safely indoors.

Unless they wish to join the angry mob, which I'm told is a grand day out for all concerned.

Such love.

Georgie, why is your girlfriend making things worse?

It's a very big and a very public story.

Didn't want her reporting on this, but she hasn't said anything inaccurate.

I don't care.

Stop her immediately.

We're not on the best of terms at the moment.

Then patch things up before I'm torn to bits.

Go, Georgie.

I'll see what I can manage.

Just stay away from the windows.

Out of the way!

I'm coming through!

If she can't fix this, I don't know what we'll do.

That's easy.

We'll open the door and throw you outside.

As a fellow professional in the arts and media, I knew Jennifer wouldn't give up the story without a fight.

Taking care to avoid the crowds, I followed Georgie to the nerve center of Piffling FM,

Jennifer's parents' kitchen.

And we're back with the Rudyard Rundown.

Your news and views on this story as it happens.

Sir, do you honestly think he's the most dangerous man that Piffling has ever seen?

Rudyard.

Oh, definitely, yeah.

Why, what's he done?

Jen?

Oh,

we'll be back after a word from our new sponsor.

If you've got rats, send for Pat.

He eats them.

Piffling FM.

fat.

Georgie, look, before you say.

What can I say about not reporting on this?

How can I not?

It's the story of the decade.

Jen, he's my employer.

On other days, he's even a mate.

Did he propel a rodent at a woman's face during her mother's funeral, thereby causing her great distress?

No!

Georgie!

Yes!

Okay, he did.

Clearly, that isn't the point.

But that is the story.

I'm a journalist.

You can't ask me not to report on issues of the public public interest just because it involves a friend of yours.

It was an accident.

We know Ruddard's a prat, but he's not dangerous.

He's never intentionally.

Sabotage a funeral?

Let me investigate and the truth will come out.

If he's innocent, we'll clear his name.

But this story is huge and I've got to cover it while I can.

That's too big a risk.

Call off the mob right here, right now.

Make something up if you have to.

I can't do that.

Jen, there's people outside his door baying for blood.

This is more important than your ratings.

Of course it is.

What do you mean?

You're always off helping the fans and the mayor.

You keep saying they'd be lost causes without you.

And I'm not going to say you're wrong, but

you know who else is kind of a lost cause?

Me.

What?

No.

No, you're amazing.

I'm not an idiot.

I know that no one listens to my radio station.

Nobody cares.

They see me trying my best and think, oh, isn't that tragic?

But guess what?

All of a sudden, they do care.

I've got a story they want to listen to.

And in the last hour alone, I've had 52 callers.

Hey, that's not bad.

I've turned people away.

I've never had to do that before.

And I don't think reporting on this story is wrong.

I'm sorry your employer did a bad bad thing, but he did.

So instead of defending him and fighting for his lost cause for once, couldn't you come and fight for mine?

I

I'm sorry, no.

I can't do that.

Rudyard is entirely screwed unless I find a way to help him now.

Well,

you'll have to find it somewhere else, won't you?

I have to go back on the air.

You're not serious.

Yes, I am.

And if you still need me to tell you I'm serious, then that's a really big part of the problem here.

Could you close the door on your way out of the studio, please?

You know what?

It's not even a studio, it's the kitchen.

Well,

if that's the way you want it.

This is Jennifer Delacroix Piffling FM, and we're back.

I returned alone to fun funerals, where the barbarians were still massing at the gates.

Brother and sister sat in the dark, peeking out through the curtains.

Still up there,

they've got a giant inflatable rat with your face on it.

What?

That doesn't even look like me.

Don't these people have a fairground to get back to?

Seems like they abandoned the funeral.

I suppose that means you did ruin it after all.

Well done.

Come out, children.

Get the- What's coming to you, my God!

This could go on for days.

No, wait, it's Georgie.

She's come back.

Oh, we're saved.

Let her in.

You just tried chopping that tomato, Bill.

Oh, Bill, I love you.

Blip sake.

Georgie!

How did you get on at the station?

Jennifer won't drop the story.

She's still transmitting.

What are you both looking at me like that for?

It's been so long since you couldn't do something.

There's no hope.

I've forgotten what that felt like.

We're not beaten yet.

On the way back, I dropped in on Agatha Doyle to see if she could break up the mob.

Brilliant!

Was she?

Nah.

She's joined them.

I've said said it before, I'll say it again.

Society was a mistake.

But then I had another idea.

The nuclear option.

Alright, alright, everyone.

Hello.

Can I get your attention for a moment?

Oh, Georgie, you didn't.

I did.

We've seen what Eric can do in the face of an angry mob, and if I control my pride and ask for help, so can you.

This is a job for Mr.

Sunshine Man.

But we've all had a long day, and the funeral didn't go entirely to plan, but have a win-a-couple of pints at my place and cool off.

I've still got a few barrels of ale.

Miss Scruple, everyone.

I understand that what happened today was upsetting, but we're civilized people and we ought to be reasonable.

He's trying to bring reason into this.

By the hell!

What?

He's coming this way!

Quick, barricade the door!

No, let him in for God's sake!

out!

Stop it!

Don't you know who I am?

Oh, I don't believe it!

Some people!

So?

How do we feel that went?

Don't you start.

You've really outdone yourself this time, Redjard.

Oh, this suit only arrived this morning.

You'll be stoned to death if you go back out there.

It seems you're stuck here with us, Chapman.

As if it couldn't be worse.

Georgia, what do we do?

I.

don't know.

Like, I'm genuinely out of ideas.

Then we're back to mine, I suppose.

Oh, yes.

What's that?

We wait it out.

They can't stay there forever.

One week later, with the mob, larger than ever before, we concluded that hell hath no fury like Piffling Vale scorned.

Chairman, any change out there?

Sorry, sorry.

On the phone.

Mr.

Pickens, yes, I'm afraid we'll have to postpone the funeral after all.

No, no, you see, a bloodthirsty mob has trapped me in my competitor's house for the past seven days.

Hmm.

Yes, these things do happen.

Christ, it's impossible out there.

Were you able to get us any provisions?

No.

He saw three matter skies.

So then you won't really grouch our marks.

Yeah, you can have the glasses back.

Oh, thanks.

This is bad.

We're down to onion peels and coffee grains.

And they've cut off the power and water, too.

We'll freeze.

Don't worry, I know how to make fire.

So do I.

Yeah, but mine's better.

What about Rudyard?

How's he holding up?

Not bad.

Ah!

Sorry, sir.

Didn't see you there.

I've been here the whole time.

It's almost like you're obscured by the shadows.

Yes.

I noticed that a few days ago.

They've started

following me around.

No!

Rudyard, I think we need to get you out of this house.

It's not good for you to be cooped up like this.

No, shut up.

I don't need anything or anyone.

Oh, dear.

Now I'm going to my mortar.

Goodbye.

No, come here.

I want my shadows back.

Rudyard!

Guess we should check in for the hourly update.

Can't believe Jan's run with this for the whole week.

Yes, though I think she's struggling to keep it fresh.

What do you mean?

This is Jennifer Delacroix Pipling FM.

We're discussing your theories today.

Is Rudyard a sort of half-rat hybrid that feeds on human misery sent here by aliens?

Many of you said yes.

Ah!

Eric, come me that phone!

Are you sure that's a good idea?

Eric!

Yep, there you are.

Later in the show, we'll be asking Reverend Waverine what he thinks and drawing some firm conclusions.

Oh, looks like we have a caller.

Hello, you're on the air.

Long time listener, first time caller.

Delighted to be here.

That's hardly appropriate.

You started with the facts, but then they ran out.

So now you're resorting to this level of rubbish just for the sake of your stupid radio station.

Stupid now, is it?

We just need to add desperate, angry, and failure, and at last we'll have something you care about, eh, Georgie?

Oh,

that's simply.

Sorry, colour.

Your line's been disconnected.

Up next, it's the new Smash Hit single that swept Piffling Vale from Bill and Tanya's opera about the recent events.

Rudyard the Rat King.

Let's hear it.

I am Miss Grupple.

And I am the Rat King.

Well,

it was worth a try.

You okay?

Do you have those days where

it's like no matter what you do or say, you're just not that great at people.

Like when it actually matters, you just

can't do it.

I don't think that's true.

But

yeah, I know what that's like.

Gira?

Yes.

If only we could get out there and talk to them.

Make them listen to us.

But how?

I don't believe it.

It's my mortgage and he won't leave.

I've had enough.

We need a way out of this now.

I've been racking my brains.

Can't think of anything.

Nor me.

Oh, it's useless.

If only Rajad would apologize to Miss Scruple, then this whole thing could be over.

So you mean

he hasn't apologised?

No, you know what he's like

Of course he hasn't

Jesus Christ Right, hand me the phone.

You've got a plan?

Yes, but it needs Jennifer and her radio station to make it work.

Georgie, permission granted?

It better be one hell of a plan.

An hour later, we were all packed safely into a corner of the Dela Croix living room.

Miss Scruple had made the ocean of angry villagers part so that we could reach Piffling FM and prepare Rudyard for the interview that would decide our fate.

How exactly is this going to work?

Rudyard will go on the air and apologize to Miss Scruple with great sincerity and sensitivity.

He'll never manage that.

He'll mess it up.

We know.

That's what the ear piece is for.

Eric's going to tell him what to say from here, and all Rudyard needs to do is repeat it.

It's the only way to defuse the situation and get things back to normal.

It's humiliating, I refuse.

Well, then, I look forward to living with you in fun funerals for the rest of our lives.

Oh!

Can't do it.

But you're paying us rent for the last week.

What?

Mr.

Fan, we're ready for you in the studio.

If you'd like to step this way.

Yes, yes, fine.

Jen!

Thanks for doing this.

The rest of you here in the green room, keep your voices down.

Ouch.

Let's hear what's happening, shall we?

Pifflin!

This is Jennifer Delacroix, Pifflin FM, and welcome to a surprise broadcast.

Brought to you by Chapman's.

Always putting the fun in funerals.

Oh, good.

Well, I am paying for this.

We have two special guests with us here tonight.

On my right, much loved local citizen Dorothy Scruple, whose Halloween experience has inspired an unprecedented outpouring of love and support.

Delighted to be here.

And on my left, our public enemy number one,

as voted by you, the listeners.

Rudyard Funn.

Thank her for having you on the air.

Now look here.

I mean, um.

Thank you for having me.

We open our discussion with you, Mr.

Fun.

I've been told you'd like to take this opportunity to say something to Miss Scruple.

Acknowledge that what happened at the funeral was horrible.

I acknowledge it was a horrible funeral.

That's not what I said.

Yes, it was.

Mr.

Fun.

Bloody hell.

Say you acted badly and that you take full responsibility for it.

Well, Mr.

Fun,

what do you have to say?

Rodjard, can you hear me?

Why isn't he saying anything?

Damn it, just say sorry.

Why should I?

What?

I'm the one who suffered here.

Oh, God.

Unbelievable.

I knew it.

He'd never follow your instructions, even to save his own skin.

Mr.

Fun, I must press you for an explanation.

For flip sake.

Out of my way.

Georgie, what are you doing?

Mr.

Fun, if that's all you have to say for yourself, then I'm afraid this programme.

Not so fast.

Well, Georgie!

You alright?

I'm here to represent the interests of my client.

You're going to what?

Shut up, sir.

Jen, ready if you are.

Listeners, this is highly unorthodox.

We've been joined here by Georgina Crusoe, assistant and enabler to Mr.

Fan, who wishes to speak on his behalf.

Okay, Miss Crusoe, it's all yours.

What does Mr.

Fan have to say?

He.

Well,

he.

While we're young, dear.

Well, look, it's never easy, is it?

What isn't?

This.

All of it.

Feels like everyone's given a manual on how to do stuff, but some of the pages are missing from your own copy.

No matter how great you thought you were, you run into something you're not so great at.

And then you make mistakes.

And events get entirely out of control.

Yeah.

And it's hard to admit that you've done something wrong, even if you didn't mean to do it.

But you have to, otherwise, people don't know you want to do better.

Does Mr.

Fan want to do better?

Yeah.

He does.

He's so, so sorry for what happened last week and the words that were said and the better words that were left unsaid.

And

I hope you agree with me that there's no such thing as a lost cause.

Maybe.

So

if you let him,

he will prove to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can do better.

I mean, he can do better.

Right, Rud?

Yep, or that.

Well then,

that's more like it.

Thank you, Mr Fum.

You won't mess with me again, will you?

No, I won't do that.

In that case, I can forgive and forget.

Miss Delacroix?

On behalf of Piflin FM,

I'd like to apologise too.

Yeah?

For the benefit of our listeners, what Rudyard did was an accident.

Those are the facts, and I should have stuck to them.

I hope we can make it up to you somehow.

I'd like an advert.

Proceed.

Book today with fun funerals.

Thank you.

Excellent copy.

From all of us here at Pifflin FM,

good night.

We thank you

for listening.

Now it's good as night

from Pifflin

FM.

When we returned to the square, the angry mob had long dispersed, taking their barbed wire with them.

Thank goodness that's over.

Oh, you can say that again.

But a week's work to catch up on.

Enjoy yourselves, everyone.

Not so fast.

Before you go, Rajad has something he needs to say to you.

Hmm?

Oh, yes.

Hmm.

Everything in our home is copyrighted, so if we see you using any of it.

Rajad!

He knows who planned to save us worked.

Isn't that enough?

No, thank him properly.

It's Georgie you should be thanking.

Where's she gone?

Aware that her friends would be fine without her.

Georgie had hung back.

There was only one person she needed right now.

Hey.

Hey.

Looks like the broadcast did the trick.

Yeah.

And you know what that means?

What?

Everyone on the island was listening to Pigly and FM.

100% of your potential audience.

Not many radio hosts can say that.

No.

I suppose they can't.

I really am sorry.

So am I.

Things went way too far.

The funds are family, but

I'm here for you too.

I want this to work.

We've both got so much going on in our lives, though.

I can't ask you to drop anything, not when Pifflin FM means so much to me, too.

Well,

maybe instead of trying to get away from it all, we could live our separate lives

together.

What do you mean?

Well, a radio station on the rise needs new premises, and

I just so happen to have a place that's practically empty.

If you don't mind sharing it with, like, me

and a dog.

are

you asking me?

I mean we might still need to set up studio in the kitchen, but at least it'd be our kitchen

if you'd like it to be.

I would

I'd like that a lot

And so the great siege of fun funerals came to a close with no lasting casualties and a brighter future.

I tiptoed away discreetly from the happy couple.

A mouse knows when to give people their privacy.

Radio drama was written by Gabrielle Urbina and edited by David K.

Barnes.

It was performed by Felix Trench as Ruddiard, Beth Eyre as Antigone, Tom Crowley as Eric, Kira Baxendale as Georgie, Alana Ross as Jennifer Delacroix, Ellie Dickens as Miss Scruple, Pip Gladwin as Bill, Emily Stride as Tanya, Alison Skillback as Agatha Doyle, and Belinda Lang as Madeline, with Mouse Squeaking by 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 Fable and Falling Network, where fiction producers flourish.

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