Season 4 Episode 1: The Body Snatchers

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well

hello everybody

sorry i'm late uh

um

right

now

where did we get up to

hidden in the English channel is an island called Piffling.

On the island is a village, Pifling Vale, and the village has a square, and the square has a funeral home, and opposite that is another funeral home, and

well, you get the picture, I'm sure.

When people want a funeral and a bit of cheering up, they go to Eric Chapman.

He's a truly splendid fellow who can make your dreams come true.

Not like the twins across the square.

They're so depressing and peculiar, and their funerals all go wrong.

And that's the way, it seems to most, that things will always be, because nothing ever changes.

Until, of course,

it does.

Wooden Overcoats by David K.

Barnes, Season 4, Episode 1: The Body Snatchers.

Dearly beloved, we gather here today to bid a fond farewell to Professor Bertie Oblomov, whose contribution to science will not be forgotten.

A man who placed himself into suspended animation.

Not with technology, like the usual rabble, but through sheer mental willpower.

And it worked

for two minutes.

And then

he died.

But

aren't we all standing on the shoulders of giants?

I know I am.

As Reverend Wavering wound up another moving tribute, he gave an airy thumbs up in the direction of Rudyard Fun, standing ready next to the coffin.

That's our signal.

Heavo, Georgie.

On it.

You take that end, and.

Yes, why not take the other one too while you're at it?

My back hurts.

So I'll pick up the coffin by myself then.

Like I always do.

Owning a skill.

That's called an apprenticeship.

By rice, you should be paying me.

Hey, this one's lighter than I expected.

I thought the professor was a big fella.

Now, look, we've had our bad days, Georgie, but you can't seriously imagine we'd forget to bring the body, can you?

I mean,

mate.

Yes, alright, it's plausible, but we can't check now.

Anyway, you guys have been amazing.

So, I'm going to hand you back to our Undertaker for this morning, Redyard.

Okay, Georgio, we're on.

Start frowning.

What was that?

Something about someone knocking.

From where?

Inside the coffin.

Oh, I see.

No, wait a moment.

Sir,

I think we've got a problem.

We can't have.

Not now.

They're all staring at us.

Right, yad.

Coming, Reverend.

Georgie, we're letting the sign down.

We've got to move this coffin.

Sir, a natural

ignore it.

We can't bury this.

We can do anything we put our minds to, Georgie.

This is just beginning up.

Look at my.

Everybody, keep calm.

We've got this entirely opening board.

Sir, what's that mean?

I don't know, but I bet we get served for it.

The dead are rising.

I knew this day would come.

Has anyone got any holy water?

I drank all mine.

Dead, please believe me.

Thank about, that's not zombies.

Antigone!

Yes, it's me.

You picked up the wrong coffin.

What the hell are you doing in there?

I fell asleep.

Why?

I was tired.

Relax, everyone.

False alarm.

It's only the sister, not a zombie.

I am so embarrassed.

It nearly buried me alive.

Oh, it always has to be about you, hasn't it?

Nigel, we are so, so sorry about this.

Well, it is a fun funeral.

What did we expect?

But, as my mother always said, if you're going to drop a clanger, at least make it a new one.

Give them a hand.

But where's the body?

Oh, God.

That's a point.

Uh,

Rudyard?

Well, it's his home, obviously.

It's a bit late to get it now.

Look!

If I had to wake up and get dressed this morning, I want there to have been a damn good reason for it.

So go fetch the body and let's finish this funeral.

Chop, chop!

You can't speak to me like that.

I am a professional doing a job, and I demand you show me some respect.

Okay,

boomer.

What?

Leave it so.

Let's just do as he says.

Antigoni, could you get out of the coffin while we're trying to carry it?

Actually, I'm feeling very fragile from my ordeal.

You shall both have to carry me.

Tip her out?

Yeah.

The three of them sloped back to fun funerals to retrieve the professor from the mortuary.

The second half of the funeral eventually kicked off, but by then most of the mourners had got bored and gone home, including the Reverend.

It was a crushing day for the funs.

What's done is done.

There's no point in getting upset.

It's not as simple as that, Georgie.

It certainly isn't.

This morning, in front of the village, we failed to get the body coffin in the ground on time.

We've lost our reputation, don't you see?

Our reputation.

I've lost the immortal part of myself and what remains is bestial.

Yeah, alright, look, I'm not saying this morning wasn't a car crash, because it totally was, but it'll all blow over.

It won't.

Trust me.

I bet they've already forgotten.

This is Jennifer Delacroix Piffling FM.

Are the dead rising from their graves and roaming the island?

Or is it just another fun funeral?

We'll be running this poll for the rest of the month, and one of you can win a spa day at Chapman's.

So tell all your friends and keep calling.

Now for some disco.

I'll have a word with her about it.

Good, I I hate disco.

No, I'm anticipating.

And as for you, Antigone, what were you playing at?

Sleeping in a coffin?

Why wasn't the body ready?

I was up all night trying to make him perfect.

Twice I even started over.

Drain him, fill him up, drain him, fill him up.

There was barely any of him left by the time I finished.

The moon was a little bit slushy.

But he still wasn't good enough, and I was tired and sad.

So I climbed into a coffin for a few minutes' rest, and once you pull the lid up, it's really quite cozy and warm and safe.

Damn it, I wish that you had buried me.

We'll put you back if you like!

Guys, guys.

Come on.

Don't go off the deep end.

We've been through worse, haven't we?

I'm sick of going through worse.

So am I!

Everything we do ends in failure.

Don't mind telling you, I'm reaching the end of my tether.

In fact,

as of today,

I've reached it.

I've had enough.

I quit.

What?

You heard me.

I quit.

I'm quitting the business.

You can't can't do that.

I'm the boss.

I can do what I like.

And I quit.

If you have any complaints, take them up with Antigone.

Oh, no, you don't.

You think I can just walk away from your responsibilities, do you?

Is that what you think?

Yes.

Well, you're not the only one.

I quit, too.

Antigone.

I'm free!

Free at last!

Think of all the things that I can do I couldn't do before!

I can stay inside all day whenever I want!

Great.

Now I'm in charge of the business, am I?

No, by the terms of the company, it falls to Madeline.

Say hello to your new boss, Georgie.

Okay, look, nobody's quitting.

I know we're having a rough day, but just tell yourself this, yeah?

This right here is as bad as it's ever gonna get.

Hello, everyone.

Oh, God.

Rodiard!

Antigone!

Georgie?

Madeline?

Oh, thanks, not bad.

How's about yourself?

Enough of that.

So, Chapman, swooping in for the killer, kicking us while we're down.

Is that what brings you here on on this particular morning?

No, uh actually, I uh

yes.

Well, uh, as it happens,

I came here to ask for help.

Help you?

You see, uh, the thing is,

I've made a mistake.

A mistake?

Really?

Yes.

Wait there.

So, regards the chat about Quinton.

Forget it.

Yep.

Done.

Great.

Let's never fight again.

Okay, Chapman.

Go ahead.

We're all ears, aren't we?

Wouldn't miss it.

Yes.

Right.

Well, for obvious reasons, I don't want this matter getting out.

What I'm about to tell you must be kept under the very strictest secrecy.

What?

I said what I'm about to say is top secret, and you must keep it.

What?

Can't hear you?

Could you ju-secret?

What?

Does someone have a secret?

No, no, nothing.

Spit it out, Eric.

We're not gonna grass on you.

I'm fine.

The simple matter is that I've lost something of great sentimental value, and I need to get it back.

It's a sort of identity bracelet, I suppose you'd call it.

An identity bracelet?

What?

In case you forget who you are.

Yes, you might say that.

Yes.

In a way.

Not getting any younger.

Sorry.

Get to the bit where you make a mistake.

Sure thing.

I was last wearing it when preparing a few bodies last Wednesday, three of them in one afternoon.

It was a slow day.

It was only a while after I'd finished and got them in their coffins that I realized the bracelet was missing from my wrist.

It's nowhere in my workshop, which means...

It's fallen into one of those three coffins.

It must have done.

But I was too slow.

Those funerals have been and gone, and the coffins are buried.

Well, then you'd have to go and dig them up, won't you?

Correct.

That's why I need your help.

Why, you could do it yourself.

Not all in one night, I couldn't.

I'll have to wait till after dark so no one can see me, but the more nights it takes, then the greater the risk of exposure.

Why not tell the reverend you messed up?

Exhuming bodies because of a blunder I made.

I'm not sure he'd be too happy.

It's best that nobody knows.

You mean your pride won't allow it?

Mr.

Perfect got it wrong.

Yes, all right.

The point is: are you lot willing to help me?

Hmm.

It wouldn't be hard.

They're all buried in the cemetery.

If we split up, we could tackle all three of them by sun-up.

Hold on there, Chapman.

Our cooperation doesn't come cheap.

What do we get out of it?

Name your price.

I'm not leaving the island.

I see.

How about this?

You agree to stop work for, say, a fortnight.

An extended holiday, if you will.

Two weeks?

That's outrageous.

Not if you really want that bracelet, Bat, Chapman.

Oh, I'm sorry, you'll have to lower your price.

That's as low as it goes.

And bear in mind, now we know all about this, it might just leak to the outside world.

You wouldn't.

Perhaps I wouldn't.

But I would.

Secret!

Definitely heard it that time.

Okay, okay, okay.

You've got yourself a a deal.

Very wise.

Sorry, Reverend.

No.

I've got to fill my next book with something.

Right then.

I'll meet you all outside the churchyard tonight at 2300 hours.

Dress in black, bring your best shovels, and most importantly, enjoy yourselves.

Wow.

Antigone, you were ruthless.

Yes, I was, wasn't I?

I suppose in business, one must develop one's killer instinct.

Two weeks without Chapman.

We'll have have the monopoly on funerals in Piffling Vale, just like the old days.

We can't count our chickens yet.

We've got to find this bracelet first.

I wonder why it's so important, Dan.

He's probably making a fuss about nothing.

That man's ego could block out the moon.

He's so vain, he probably thinks this rant is about him.

It is.

Yes, but he doesn't know that.

We should ready ourselves.

We have a long and arduous job ahead of us.

Digging up bodies at the dead of night.

What would our parents have thought?

They'd just be glad you were leaving the house.

The day went by, the sun went down, and a few hours later, the four of us crept quietly along the streets of Piffling Vale to join Eric Chapman outside the cemetery.

The night was still, calm, and silent.

Oi, Eric!

Georgie!

I just wanted to scare him.

We all enjoyed it, but let's stay focused.

We're here, Chapman.

Shall we get started?

Yeah.

Wait.

This is a covert operation.

You're still in uniform.

You said we're black.

Not everyone wears beige to a funeral, Chapman.

Yes, all right.

I brought spare balaclavas just in case, so do shout if you need one.

Okay!

So, we've got three coffins to dig up and search.

How do you propose we go about it?

We split in pairs.

You and Georgie take one, Antigone and I take another, and if we've not already found the bracelet, we'll all meet up for the third, okay?

Hold on.

Why me and you?

Rudyard's a nightmare and Georgie doesn't like me.

Ah, so I figured you probably hated me the least.

Hmm, I see.

Georgie, I think Antigone's a traitor.

Shut up, Rudyard.

Anything else?

Here.

I've prepared you each a pack for the mission.

You've got torches, maps, and emergency rations.

But if anything goes wrong, we don't know each other.

And yet we obviously do.

Sorry, yes.

Old habits.

Forget that last part.

Why have you given us passports?

Yeah, I want those back.

But otherwise, I think we're ready.

Best of luck and don't be a hero.

Don't worry, I won't.

Antigone, shall we?

Yes, let's get it over with.

See you both later.

Enjoy yourselves.

Georgie, I have an unnerving suspicion that Chapman wants to offer Antigone a contract and poach her from fun funerals.

No, I tried that years ago.

Did it work?

No.

Oh, never mind then.

Where's our coffin?

The map says this way.

I've been looking forward to this, really.

It's quite exciting.

Speak for yourself.

It's long past my bedtime.

Minds that?

Sex.

Same as everyone else's.

Antigone and Eric had reached the first grave on the list.

A local librarian who'd been flattened by the complete works of Barbara Cartland.

Stormy clouds gathered as they set to work on their ghoulish enterprise.

Antigone, what are you waiting for?

I thought you were gonna help.

I can't, Chapman.

It just feels wrong.

Digging up a coffin was so much more excusable in the abstract.

But now that I'm here with a shovel in hand...

Antigone, please.

Sorry, no!

The whole task is wretched and degrading.

I'll just sit and watch you do it.

Could you at least hold the torch so I can see what I'm doing?

The vicarage is only over there.

Somebody could see us.

And the longer we hang around, the more likely that becomes.

The torch, please.

Quite alright.

Thank you.

It's ridiculous anyway.

Going to these lengths.

There's nothing stopping you from asking the village for help.

They know you're not perfect.

What?

Who told them?

Was it Rudyard?

No, it's human nature, Chapman.

Nobody's perfect.

I never said I was.

I've had my share of slip-ups in the past.

A long time ago.

Yes, we're aware.

And anyway, I'm not the only one of us who has trouble asking for help.

Eh, Antigone.

Rubbish, I've got no issues there.

I've got three words to say to that.

40 dead clowns.

Oh, as if I'm the first person that's happened to.

We'll cock things up occasionally, but there's one thing I never, ever get wrong.

And that's a funeral.

Professional pride?

Not quite.

At least, not the whole story, but it'll do for now.

There you go again.

International Man of Mystery, Eric Chapman.

You can do anything, except have a normal conversation.

It's simply that I happen to think that funerals are too important to make mistakes.

No offense.

What do you mean?

You know what I mean.

You burst out of a coffin this morning at somebody else's funeral.

How dare you bring it up?

If you are any kind of friend.

Well, I'm not.

I'm just a competitor.

Remember?

I admit I never learned the traditional method of losing a body or starting a riot, but I think my innovative way of not doing those things is keeping me happily employed so far.

I don't have to stand here and be insulted.

No, you could help with the digging instead.

You blackmailed me earlier on, but I'm not seeing much bang for my buck.

Right, give me that.

What?

There we are.

Done.

You were taking ages.

Oh.

Wow.

What?

The way you did that was quite something.

Stop gaping, Chapman.

And get into that coffin so you can find what we came for.

Oh, yeah, sure.

Wait.

What is it?

The vicarage.

Look, the lights came on.

Maybe Maybe they've seen us.

We can't abandon the operation on a maybe.

Tell you what, you go and check it out, and I'll finish up here.

Me, why not you?

I'll get caught.

Stick to the shadows.

You love doing that.

Find out if we've been rumbled.

We need to know how long we've got.

For God's sake.

Fine.

Wish me luck.

As the rain began and the odd flash of lightning lit the sky, Antigone legged it towards the vicarage, where Nigel and Desmond were up later than usual.

It's hopeless, Nigel.

I can't sleep a wink.

I knew we shouldn't have watched that scary film.

All those frightening ghosts and ghouls.

Desi, it was the Muppet Christmas Carol.

The little green man will haunt my dreams.

All right.

Why don't you sit down and calm yourself, and I'll make you a mug of cocoa.

Okay?

Thank you, Nigel.

You're an absolute menace.

Then make sure you relax.

I could look out of the window.

That's always pleasant.

How peculiar, Nigel?

In a minute.

I could have sworn that there was someone outside the window.

Desi, Desi, what's wrong?

What is it?

There!

There's the window.

A horrible phantom.

There's nothing there now.

You sure?

It was terrifying.

Like the Muppet Man.

Well,

I can't see any spectres, but...

Oh!

Someone's out there.

See?

Wait, it's a torchlight.

Oh,

it must be body snatchers.

Body snatchers?

In my village?

Swine.

Hmm.

Hand me the telephone.

I'm calling Agatha Doyle.

I doubt she delivered chocolates at this hour.

I meant the police.

Yes.

Come on, come on.

Where is it?

Danger!

Danger, Chapman!

Antigone!

They saw me.

They're on their way.

But the shadows protect you.

I was betrayed.

Damn.

Did they recognize you?

It's dark.

It's raining.

I don't know.

I didn't stay to find out.

Then we may still have a chance, but we'll have to be quick.

Help me put the lid back on.

Did you find the bracelet?

It's not here.

Are we going to bury it again?

No.

We've got to keep moving to the third coffin.

I hope Rodiard and Georgie had better luck than we did.

As the two of them scrambled desperately across the muddy earth, Reverend Wavering sought help from the redoubtable Agatha Doyle.

What's that, Reverend?

Body snatchers?

In the dead of night?

That does sound exciting.

I shall ask my housekeeper to lay out my detectiving trousers forthwith.

Miss Scroople!

I'm pressing them now, dear.

So efficient.

Never fear, Reverend.

I'll be there in a jiffy.

I may be retired, but I know what to do with miscreants like these.

Give them a ruddy good telling off.

Keep calm.

And remain in north.

Thank you, Miss Doyle.

She's on her way to nab those wicked rascals.

I trust that you'll give them them a ruddy good telling.

Oh, if anyone can, it's her.

Those naughty tomb raiders had better watch out.

Agatha Goyle is on the case.

Unaware of the trouble that lay ahead, Rudyard, Georgie, and I were travelling in a small boat to the middle of Lake Chapman, a body of water that Eric discovered on his first day in Piffling Vale.

The rain was easing off, so I climbed out of Rudyard's pocket to observe events.

Sir, do you want to row for a bit?

Not while I'm navigating, Georgie.

Okay, where are we?

Haven't a clear.

Thank you, Madeline.

Well, according to the map, the coffin should be around here somewhere, but I don't see it.

It's underwater, obviously.

How on earth do we get to it?

Look inside the pack he gave us.

Can't see how that can possibly be.

Oh, this is absurd.

What's he put in there?

Grappling hooks and fishing rods.

Yeah, that'll do it.

If that marks a spot, let's give it a try.

Have you ever been fishing before?

Only the ones.

Wasn't my sort of thing.

Why not?

Our father used me as bait.

All I caught was an old boot.

Wasn't even my size.

Well, maybe we'll do better tonight, eh?

By the way, sir.

Yes?

You're not really quitting fun funerals, are you?

No.

I've been here since the 15th century.

I'm not letting it end on my watch.

And since I've begun delving into the history of this village,

I've gained a keener appreciation of my roots.

Oh, yeah.

The mayor gave you that archive project, assembling the complete chronicle of Piffling Vale.

Yes, it's long and painstaking work, Georgie.

Sifting through photographs, documents, old books, tapestries.

It's taken up all my spare hours for months and months.

Found anything interesting?

No.

But it's early days yet, and I'm honoured to be doing my bit for the village.

Besides burying their dead.

That's the spirit, sir.

Maybe I can get Jennifer to interview you about it on Pifflin FM.

I thought she didn't like me.

Yeah, not your biggest fan, but she loves community content.

So, if you asked her to advertise fun funerals, that's corruption.

I can't ask for favours like that.

Then I can't see any benefit to your relationship at all.

And that's the way it's gonna stay.

The world doesn't revolve around you.

I find that hard to believe.

Oh,

hey, here we found some some it.

Oh,

oof.

Whatever he's snagged on, it's heavy.

Is it the coffin?

Must be.

Gonna relit in quickly before it gets away.

I'm trying.

It's so heavy.

Oh, if I'm not careful, I'll.

Oh.

Oh!

Georgie!

Georgie?

Georgie, we haven't got all night.

There you are.

Got the coffin?

Yeah.

Wait, float it over here and we'll take a peek.

Can I get in the boat, please?

In a minute, stop fussing.

Now then, what have we got?

Yes, it's old Mrs.

Custo.

She died doing what she liked most.

Which was evading income tax.

Hmm.

No.

There isn't any sign of this bracelet Chapman's on about.

Are you sure?

I've checked it as thoroughly as I care to.

It's not here.

I say.

I say you there.

Who are you?

And what the blazes do you think you're doing with that coffin?

Oh, Flip.

It's Agatha Doyle.

We can't let her catch us.

She'd never sell the sweets ever again.

Quick, whack the lid back on and sink the coffin.

Damn!

We get away as fast as we can.

Last one to the shore gets arrested!

While Georgie remembered that Radyard couldn't swim and that she'd probably have to save his life again, Antigone and Eric had reached the third and final coffin.

Here we are.

Mackenzie McGregor, 95 years.

Died in his sleep on a skiing holiday.

He dozed off and hit a tree halfway down the slopes.

Oh, damn.

What's wrong?

This one's locked.

I forgot about that.

You must have a key.

Back in my workshop, and it's too late to fetch it.

Looks like I'm gonna have to pick the lock open.

Trouble is, this particular type of lock is made to be virtually impregnable, and I should know.

Why?

I designed it myself.

Got a hairpin?

No.

Don't worry, I have.

It's amazing, isn't it, this place?

Nine generations of McGregors have been laid to rest here,

each after a lifetime's loyal and dedicated service to Piffling Vale, working in the family trade.

Nine generations of fully qualified train drivers.

It's a pity we've never had a railway.

Of course, I was already aware of that information about the family.

Were you?

Yes.

How's that?

Because when it comes to late members of the Clan McGregor, you may have entombed the most recent one, but my family did all the rest of them.

Ah.

Take a look around, Chapman.

Wherever you see a coffin, it was put there by a fun.

We've been here quite a while, if you remember.

Yes.

Sorry.

It's been years since I last set foot in this mausoleum.

Did you work on any of them yourself?

No.

But my mother did.

When I was a child, I watched her embalming the last one, MacGregor Sr.

He had been a tough and unpleasant man in life.

But in death, she made him look angelic.

And she told me to study what she did very closely.

Because while she was preparing the father,

she said, One day I'd do the same for his son.

And how did that make you feel?

Back then,

like I was part of something.

Didn't even know he died until tonight.

I'm sorry.

They wanted you for this funeral.

You couldn't turn them down.

To be honest, being here simply reminds me how far our standards have dropped.

If I'd realized, I'd have put his family off, or come up with an excuse, or.

We're competitors.

I get that, but I'd really like to think we can still be friends.

I know you would, despite everything.

Your problem, Chapman, is you're so desperate to be liked.

You really think that's true?

We wouldn't be here tonight if it wasn't.

Are you going to pick that lock, or are we giving up?

I never give up.

Is that a fact?

No.

More something I tell myself, really.

Oh, I think we've got company.

Antigone!

Chapman.

Sorry, we're late, we got sidetracked.

Hey, Madeline.

You're all suit.

Surely it wasn't raining that much.

No, but the lake is full of water.

Look, Agatha Doyle is on the warpath.

She could be here at any minute.

Nigel and Dez must have called her in.

Did you find the bracelet?

No, did you?

I'm afraid not.

So it's got to be in this one.

Yes, and unfortunately, we can't pick the lock open.

Is that all?

Here, let me have a go.

Done it.

Well, that was inevitable.

Right, let's take a look.

Sorry, Mackenzie.

Hurry up, man.

Get Satcher.

Are you going to push?

Is there any way you'll learn?

I say.

Hello in there.

She's boundals.

This is Agatha Doyle speaking.

Vacate that mausoleum with your hands where I can see them.

What do you think she'll do?

I reckon she'll give us a ruddy good telling off.

I don't think I could stand that.

No, nor could I.

I suppose that's it then.

Game over.

This fiasco will get out after all.

Not necessarily.

You want to keep it a secret, don't you?

How much is it worth to you?

What's your price?

No funerals for a month.

A month?

Bloody hell.

Don't make this worse for yourselves.

I'm already ticked off as it is.

Okay, you're on.

But you'd better know what you're doing.

Let's find out, shall we?

That's it.

Nice and slowly.

Don't give me any trouble.

I've got a water pistol, so I'm quite able to defend myself.

You don't scare us, Doyle.

Didn't like that, did you?

No.

Well then, behave.

Now, step into the torchlight, so I can see you.

Bless my soul!

Mr.

Fun, is that you?

Yes, but you can't prove it.

Bradyard.

Miss Fun?

Miss Crusoe?

Mr.

Chapman?

What in the name of St.

Beryl's biceps are you doing here together?

You see, Miss Doyle, I...

Don't you realise you've been giving people the most dreadful fright?

Lurking around a cemetery, digging up coffins, and not even putting them back.

It's disgraceful.

Please stop telling us off.

I will not.

And I'm especially disappointed in you, Mr.

Chapman.

I cannot think what possessed you to involve yourself in such macabre goings-on.

Unless.

Yes?

Of course.

It's so simple.

I see it all.

You must have been dragged into this by fun funerals.

What?

Don't try to deny it.

You were up to some mischief.

Mr.

Chapman came here to prevent it.

And instead, you forced him into helping you.

Is there no end to your iniquity?

Now, look here.

That is absolute rubbish.

It's true.

Every word of it's true.

What?

What?

You see, we lost something valuable in in one of the coffins, and we've been digging them up, trying to find it.

Chapman came here to stop us, like you said, and we were debating what to do when you appeared.

Antigone, have you lost your mind?

Mr.

Chapman, do you concur with Miss Funn's credible version of events?

Uh, well, uh.

Modest to the last, I see.

That's our Eric Chapman, all right.

What a relief!

Is anything the matter, Ms.

Doyle?

Have you uh caught the body snatchers?

All clear, Reverend.

It was only the funds.

Oh,

that makes so much sense.

I know!

Carry on, then!

This is outrageous.

I want a lawyer.

Be quiet, and listen to me.

Unless Mr.

Chapman wants to press charges.

Uh, no.

Then I'm content to let you all off with a warning.

But don't let me catch you grave-robbing again, or I will be most annoyed with you.

Are we all agreed?

No.

Yes.

Then, I expect you to clear this all up first thing tomorrow morning.

As it is,

I'm going home to my bed, and I advise you to do the same.

To your bed.

What?

No, I'm far too tired for that sort of caper.

Be off with you.

Good night.

Night, Miss Doyle.

Well.

Now this ordeal is behind us.

Perhaps, Antigone, you'd care to tell us what the hell that was all about.

You totally threw us under the bus.

And for what?

A month in which Chapman doesn't do any funerals, and we get them all instead.

It's the best night's work we've had in a long time.

But, Antigone, our reputation is already so low that none of this will have made any difference.

We had nothing to lose.

Yeah?

Unlike Mr.

Perfect over here.

Oh, I see.

I've been played.

You played yourself, Chapman.

You could have explained everything, owned up to a mild fault.

Nobody in the village would have thought any less of you.

It's like I said, funerals are too important to get wrong.

Amateur.

Madeline?

Hey!

She found the bracelet.

It must have been in that third one after all.

Oh, thanks, Madeline.

I can't tell you how glad I am to have this back again.

All of this hullabaloo for that.

It doesn't look valuable.

Well, it is, and it isn't.

Sentimental reasons.

Well,

Madeline, Georgie, Rudyard, Antigone.

Chapman.

It's a pleasure to work with you all.

It won't happen again.

I hope the upcoming month of grinding inactivity won't be too painful for you.

Oh, it'll fly by, I expect.

As a matter of fact, I was thinking of taking some time off work anyway.

What?

You see, the more I've expanded into all those side ventures, like the wine bar and the bowling alley.

And the monorail.

And the booknapper.

All those things, and more besides.

Well, they split my attention from what I came here to do in the first place.

Which is...

Funerals.

You don't mean...

I decided I ought to streamline the business, close down a few wings, stop trying to be all things to all people.

Which means you're going to put all your effort exclusively into funerals.

That's right.

Oh, God.

I'll spend the month winding things down, clearing the decks, and then when it's over, I'll be ready to put the fun in funerals without distraction.

So, even when we were negotiating, you were planning on doing this no matter what.

I may have brought my plans forward just a little.

We spent a whole night in this stupid cemetery

and got wet.

Only for you to turn around and say we shouldn't have bothered because there wasn't any point.

There certainly was a point.

I got my bracelet back.

Enjoy yourselves.

Gentlemen!

Yes?

You win this round.

I'm looking forward to the next one.

Good night.

I cannot believe he's done this to us.

Sleeky, crooked, underhanded.

Brap scallion!

Sir, no.

Too late, I've said it.

I've tried to keep my opinions to myself, but that man has pushed us too far.

And then, some.

Well, tonight, I say

no further.

It's time for action.

We've got to get mad.

I'm a human being, damn it.

My life has value.

We're not beaten yet.

He'll be laughing on the other side of his face when we're through with him.

I'll see to that.

He'll show Eric Chapman what a funeral parlor can do, and fun funerals will be number one, like it always was.

Yes,

how

Adeline?

Determined to win, but with no plan to speak of, we made our journey home, trusting that inspiration would strike at some point.

Probably.

Oh,

and there was the matter of that identity bracelet that yours truly recovered from the third coffin.

It was a very curious item indeed.

For you see, I happened to glance at it before passing it on, and the name inscribed upon it was not Eric Chapman.

So, one might ask, what did it say instead?

Well, I think I'll keep that to myself for the time being.

After all, these are my memoirs of a funeral house mouse, and a good author knows when to leave her audience in suspense.

Body Snatchers was written by David K.

Barnes and performed by Felix Trench as Rudyard, Beth Eyre as Antigone, Tom Crowley as Eric, Kira Baxendale as Georgie, Andy Seacombe as Reverend Wavering, Alison Skilbeck as Agatha Doyle, Sean Baker as The Mayor, Alana Ross as Jennifer Delacroix, Ellie Dickens as Miss Scruple, Emily Stride as Tanya, 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 Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish.

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