Season 3 Episode 1: The Loneliness of the Short-Tempered Rudyard

This podcast is supported by Progressive, a leader in RV insurance.

RVs are for sharing adventures with family, friends, and even your pets.

So, if you bring your cats and dogs along for the ride, you'll want Progressive RV Insurance.

They protect your cats and dogs like family by offering up to $1,000 in optional coverage for vet bills in case of an RV accident, making it a great companion for the responsible pet owner who loves to travel.

See Progressive's other benefits and more when you quote RV Insurance at Progressive.com today.

Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates, pet injuries, and additional coverage and subject to policy terms.

Travel insurance sounds boring.

Until you need it, Insure My Trip makes it easy.

Compare top-rated plans, get expert help, and travel with confidence.

Whether it's a last-minute trip or a bucket-listed venture, we've got your back with unbiased guidance and smart tech.

No pressure, just peace of mind.

And if you're not sure what you need, our licensed agents are here to help.

No bots, just real humans.

Be prepared, not paranoid.

Visit insuremytrip.com and travel like a pro.

InsuremyTrip.com.

Okay.

Stop me if you've heard this before.

Hidden in the English Channel is an island called Pifling.

On the island is a village called Pifling Vale.

And on the village square is a funeral home.

And opposite that is another funeral home.

and that's really the problem in a nutshell.

Because Eric Chapman is everyone's favourite, he puts the fun in funerals, he helps them all enjoy themselves, and he's a bit of a charmer to boot.

Whereas the brother and sister across the square are nobody's favourite people, nobody likes their funerals.

By now, they've got quite used to it.

But that doesn't mean they have to like it.

Wooden Overcoats by David K.

Barnes.

Season 3, Episode 1.

The Loneliness of the Short-Tempered Rudyard.

I'm a writer by trade, the first mouse to pen a Sunday Times bestseller, not once, but twice.

But today, I'd paced up and down the length of the skirting board, and still I'd come up with nothing.

So I decided to take a stroll outside.

I scampered across the floor of fun funerals, slipped under the door, and made my way to the middle of the square.

The sun would be setting shortly.

Radiard would be coming home from a funeral.

I'd listen out for what had happened.

Humans can be good value.

So I settled back against a tree and waited and relaxed.

Ah

the end of another ordinary day in Piffling Vale.

I have not had the best funeral.

I do love your chase on this west!

Pass me the skip!

I was getting too old for this.

Sir, come on, get those legs spinning!

Okay.

Great, now we haven't got time.

Here's a dustbin.

I suggest you get comfy.

Oh, I am am not hiding in that.

He'll be around here somewhere.

Tear out his tonsils!

Okay, get the lid off.

Get the lid off.

Sir, shut it.

Hey, fellas!

He went that way!

Thanks, Georgie!

You know,

people people can be so difficult.

Oh, wait, they're coming back.

Georgie?

Would you like to go and have some strawberries?

Yeah.

Oh, thanks, Georgie.

Whilst Radyard hid in a rubbish bin and considered how life had brought him there, floating high in the skies above him was a a large hot-air balloon.

Within its basket stood two people without a care in the world between them: the infamous Lady Vivian Templar and Rudyard's funereal foe, Eric Chapman.

Ah, this was such a wonderful idea, Chappers, just to get away from it all for an hour or two.

I know.

Just look at that sky.

And the birds, And the clouds.

And the setting sun.

Another day.

Another night.

Aubergine.

Thank you.

You know.

It feels like simply ages since we've been truly alone together.

Don't you think?

Simply ages.

All those council meetings.

All those funerals.

And never any time for us.

There should be time for us, Eric.

There should be time.

Had we but world enough and time.

This coinness.

And whatever the rest is.

Moving.

More champers, Chappers?

I shouldn't.

It goes straight to my head.

I say, does it really?

The most popular person on Piffling.

The best man for a mile around.

How do you do it, Chappers?

I just

do what I can.

Oh, you give me shivers when you stare into nothing like that.

To friends.

And perchance, to more than friends.

Hmm, Eric.

Mm-hmm.

Can you do me a funeral for nothing?

Sorry?

A funeral.

Could I get it, you know, free?

Gratis.

On the house.

Oh.

Um.

Why?

My aunts died.

Hmm.

Don't ask me which one, it's so hard to keep count.

But they all asked if I knew you, and I do.

So I'm asking because they're very excited, do you see?

I see.

So how about it?

Quick funeral, no charge, just between ourselves.

It'll get you exposure.

Uh, well,

uh.

I'd rather not.

What?

I mean, it wouldn't be fair, would it?

To my other clients?

No, but then they don't have what we have.

Do they?

Uh

no, I suppose not, but

it's just.

I can't.

Sorry,

it wouldn't be right.

You do understand, don't you?

Oh, yes.

I understand.

Yes, I understand you.

Perfectly.

Don't you worry.

I get it.

You see, I understand.

You don't need to repeat it.

There we are.

Say no more.

That's it.

I've got your number.

Loud and clear.

Enough said.

No more to be done.

There's no answer to that, and that's all there is to it, isn't it?

Blood on the bridge.

You want jam on that?

Would that I could?

Thin.

Oh, I wish you'd stop talking about it, actually.

Good.

Well, um...

Shall I pour you some more champagne?

What about the mayor?

What about the mayor?

You told him you'd do his funeral for nothing, didn't you?

How did you know that?

Because he's always telling us how much he's looking forward to it.

Well,

I was new.

I was settling in, and he is the mayor.

Oh, so I'm not important enough for you.

That's not it.

I can't offer you more than you've already got.

Perhaps if you joined the Chapman's Members' Club.

I should say I'm a pretty regular member of the Chapman Members' Club, wouldn't you?

Shhh, blimey.

Look, we can do the funeral, but I couldn't give you any preferential treatment.

No, no, you're popular, you're powerful.

Whatever can I do for you?

Vivian.

Perhaps I should take my business business elsewhere.

After all, you're not the only funeral home on the island, are you?

You?

You surely can't meet me.

I surely can.

In fact, that's really not a bad idea.

I think I'll pop along and see them this instant.

But at least let me land them.

No, don't try and stop me.

Hand me that parachute.

I really think you should reconsider.

Ca-da, chappers.

I'm sorry things didn't work out.

Oh, stop it.

I know you're bluffing me.

You'd never go through with it.

I know you wouldn't.

No, you know it all, don't you?

Yes?

Well, I hope that gives you comfort when I'm gone.

Bye.

Vivian, wait.

What will I do without you?

Enjoy yourself.

Vivian!

Vivian!

As Eric watched his date drifting down towards the village, Radyard emerged from hiding and slunk into fun funerals to close up for the night.

Roger.

By Christ, why do you smell like that?

I have been in a bin

for half an hour.

Why?

Because some people can't accept constructive criticism.

You've been chased by an angry mob more times than I care to remember, and it's beginning to make you look bad.

I merely suggested that now her husband was dead, the widow might want to lay off the drinking.

She'd had half a glass of wine by the time i stopped her it was ridiculous oh god at that rate she wasn't going to remember anything maybe she didn't want to remember anything what's the point of a good funeral if you can't remember it it's a complete joke out of her entire profession you just don't understand people at all do you people are not complex they either attack you or they don't I tried to get her family to agree with me about the drinking, but of course they were all on her side, setting a terrible example, and I told them so.

Her father made certain remarks which turned into into vows.

I'll get you, it's the last thing I do, and that sort of thing.

And then I began running, so he began running, and they all began running.

They should thank me.

Why?

I've given them some exercise.

Now, look here,

Mr.

Beamish.

No, actually, I don't live here, so don't come looking for me.

In fact, this isn't even me talking.

It's a machine.

Leave your message after the

that should fox him.

Right.

Time to close up, I think.

Oh, it's been a long day.

Where's Georgie?

Right here.

Hot water's all round.

Wonderful.

I needed this.

Ow.

It's hot.

Oh, hello!

Lady Templar?

Um, can I come in?

If only you could, but no, we're closed.

Yes, you can.

Please come in.

All right, then.

What do you want?

I want you to engage your services for a funeral, but if you're not interested, I can just as easily get...

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, of course we're interested.

Come on in, come on in, Georgie, help the nice lady out of her parachute.

I'm great at helping ladies out of parachutes.

Forgive my reticence, Lady Templar.

It's been the most trying evening.

You're not alone there.

I bet you've not been sitting in a bin for half an hour.

No.

My sister does say some things, Lady Templar.

Such a pity she can't stay long.

Yes, I can.

I live here.

Why don't you move?

You before me.

Okay, guys.

Client.

Yes.

So, you'd like to book a funeral with us?

I'd certainly like to book a funeral with someone.

But seriously, you'd like to book your funeral with us rather than, say,

somewhere else.

What makes you think I'd want to go somewhere else?

Excuse me?

Yes?

Evening, Rudyard.

Is uh Lady Templar in there with you?

Yes, she is.

Ah, well.

I'm so sorry, Lady Templar.

You were saying.

Wait a second.

What's going on?

Nothing's going on.

What are you talking about?

Just you being in here and Eric outside kind of seems like something's going on.

Is this a wind-up?

No, it's not a wind-up.

One of my aunts has died and

I need a funeral.

Ah, yes, emotional.

I've seen people like this before.

It happens when someone dies.

Sit up, Roger.

Georgie, get her a chair.

We don't have one.

Then clear some space on the counter.

Would you like to sit on the counter, Lady Templar?

No, no.

I shall be strong.

Then perhaps I could ask you a few easy questions, like, um, what was your aunt's name?

The dead one.

Yes.

I.

I don't know.

Oh, Emma.

Perhaps you'd like to come back tomorrow and we can make arrangements there.

Oh, don't let her leave.

She'll go back to Chapman.

I will not be doing business with Eric Chapman.

Because Eric Chapman is a louse.

Well, yes, I've always thought so.

Quite frankly, I'd book a funeral with anyone who isn't Eric Chapman.

That's certainly Anish.

And so I should be delighted to book a service with fun funerals instead of Chapman's.

And you can tell everyone, for all I care.

Especially Eric's friends.

I mean, well, does he have any friends?

No.

Well, he doesn't really.

He, um.

He actually told me once

on the Ferris wheel.

I didn't know he had a Ferris wheel.

We do now.

He had it built for us.

Stop it, Vivian.

Stop it, Vivian.

I shall be back here, bright and early tomorrow morning.

And remember, tell your friends.

We haven't got any of those either.

Totty!

Tutor!

Ah, uh, hello, Vivian.

Good night, Mr.

Chapman.

Oh,

yes.

Understood.

Um,

good night,

everyone.

Enjoy your.

Hmm.

That was peculiar.

Nothing peculiar about it.

She's a woman of intelligence and she understands quality.

Yes, which means she hates you.

And yet she's still booking a funeral with us.

Now, if everybody else could overlook how much they hate me, we'd really be in business.

She is one of the most influential people on the island.

If we do this properly, we might finally regain some respect around here.

I was almost beginning to give up hope.

We just had to stick to our guns.

I still think so much going on, sir.

Don't be paranoid.

It's been a brilliant day's work.

Oh, time to celebrate with some hot water.

It's gone cold.

To my surprise, Lady Templar kept her word, and the next morning saw Piffling's leading socialite being given an exclusive tour of Antigone's mortuary.

You know, I rarely allow any visitors down here, save a meet.

This is really quite-look out, watch your steps.

Who wouldn't want to fall and break your neck?

Though if you did, this is the best place for it.

That's a joke I tell myself.

You don't have to do that.

And that's the last step.

Now I'll remove your blindfold for you.

Sorry about that, by the way.

It's just so you can't tell anyone how you got here.

I went down a flight of steps.

I'll have to drug them next time.

What?

So, this is a mortuary.

I wanted to show you the care and commitment we put into our work.

And by our work, I mean my work, it's no one else's work, so that you know your body will be in safe hands.

Don't touch anything.

Oh, I wasn't going to.

Good, I wouldn't like it.

Now, over here is Mrs.

Sangfroyd.

She died of a ruptured stomach, as you can see.

How fascinating!

Is it?

Oh, it was quite a tricky job, this one.

She's oozing everywhere.

But you can be sure she'll look good as new by the time I'm done with her.

How nice!

Can I go now?

Even more intriguing is Mr.

Prendit over here.

Because if we don't get the body quickly enough, it begins expanding, and it takes quite a long time for it to stop.

Oh, dear God.

Mr.

Belly, in particular.

Just put your hand on that.

Here, I'll help you.

Firm, isn't it?

Very firm.

Yes.

Don't be too sure.

The slightest bit of pressure, and he'd explode.

We shouldn't be doing this at all, really.

I want to go home.

You have to make an incision and let the air go out.

It's just like a balloon.

Do you like balloons?

Father wouldn't let me have any.

Please let me go.

There's really nothing that I can't handle.

Some of the bodies don't even have a head, and that's when I have to get creative.

I must apologise for my sister, Lady Templar.

She's still getting used to the concept of people.

Look, go away.

I'm trying to impress her.

I want respect.

I want prestige.

I want people to know I exist.

I said, don't touch anything.

Nobody wants to see this.

But it's interesting.

There, there, Lady Templar.

Just

get your breath back.

Lean on something.

There you go.

No, not Mr.

Brendan.

I told her not to touch things.

It's basic health and safety.

Come along, Lady Templar.

Let's get up the stairs and out into the light.

I thought we might go and choose the flowers for the funeral.

You like flowers, don't you?

It's all over with me.

That's the spirit.

Lovely, fresh flowers.

Nothing too expensive.

Have you left your bracelet in Mr.

Brendan?

Damn.

I forgot to give her a business card.

Radyar took the traumatized Lady Templar for a visit to Piffling's foremost florist, Petunia Bloom.

This was a bit of a gamble, as he'd previously driven Petunia to a near breakdown through excessive haggling.

But he was sure she wouldn't hold that against him.

Get away!

Get away!

But Junior, please!

Go on, go on, get away from me!

Go!

Go!

Shoot!

Do excuse her, Lady Tamplar!

She's a miscard!

Get up!

Let's try and settle this like civilized adults.

You sure can pick him, Vivian.

Why, hello there!

Lurick!

Crikey, it's a war zone around here.

What happened?

Well, mud yards.

Oh, that makes sense.

Looking after you well, are they?

Yes.

Good.

They're dedicated.

Yes, they are.

Very.

I saw their mortuary this morning.

Limey, you are privileged.

What's it like?

Oh, you know.

Dead bodies and stuff.

Hmm.

Well,

so long as you're happy with them.

Yes.

Listen, I can't keep doing this.

Doing what?

There's still time to call it off.

I'd be happy to take on your aunt's funeral.

You know that.

Oh, you're sure of yourself, aren't you?

Hang on a second.

Pejunia, how are things?

Mr.

Chapman, is that you?

Oh, my, what must you think of me?

All this fracile.

I'm sure anyone would have done the same.

Hey!

It's just people like that Rudyard over there.

Look at him.

They make me go quite potty, Mr.

Chapman.

All I want to do is an honest day's business.

business.

Of course, you do.

Roses are red, violets are blue, at the junior plumes, they're one for two.

Oh, don't all rush to me at once.

I want a Christmas tree.

No, you don't, darling.

It's spring.

I am an individual.

I don't suppose I can have a batch of lilies from you this morning, and a couple of white roses.

Of course you can.

Here, take them with my compliments.

No, no, no, no.

I wouldn't dream of not paying for them.

Oh,

isn't he a gentleman, Dude?

Quite.

And uh, did I get anything for you, Lady Templar?

No.

Oh.

Really?

Mr.

Funn!

Mr.

Funn, stop shaking behind that spiegel tent and come here.

Yes, yes.

Right away.

Sorry.

Not bleeding.

Yes, you are.

Ms.

Bloom, I want you to sell this man a selection of your best roses, peonies, and night-scented stock, because he will be conducting the funeral that I refuse to grant to this conceited, conceited, overconfident lizard.

Oh my.

The flowers, Miss Bloom.

As you like it, here you go, Mr.

Fun.

Well, finally, a little service around you.

Shut up.

Furthermore, Mr.

Fun,

I should like to discuss the service with you tonight

at the Yacht Club

over dinner.

What?

Oh,

gosh.

Well,

eight o'clock, don't be late, will you?

No, at fun funerals, we get the me and the yacht club in in the evening on time.

Rest assured,

astounding.

But Junior, can I have some peonies, too?

I don't think so, Mr.

Chapman.

I'm not sure what you've been doing to upset Vib like that, but whatever it is, we don't allow it around here.

Wait, what?

But Junior!

How'd you like that?

Very much, as it happens.

See you around,

Chapman.

Not if I see you first, Rudyard.

This sounded vaguely threatening, and I scurried after Rudyard to warn him.

However, a dinner invitation from one of Piffling's most influential residents had made him confident, and by the evening, when he was dressing for dinner, he was in no mood to listen to anybody about anything.

It's a trap!

It's not a trap, it's dinner.

Food in a trap.

It's called bait, you idiot.

That's the cheese and you're the mouse.

Apologise to Madeline.

Where's my bow tie?

There you go.

Oh, how sad.

The clips come off.

I've got some blue tap.

Brilliant!

It doesn't make any sense, Rajard.

You must see that.

I don't see why not.

She doesn't like you.

I knew that in the womb.

I meant Lady Templar.

She's never liked you before.

You must admit, it is a bit strange.

You're fending off a botanic assault from Petunia Bloom, and suddenly, Lady Templar is inviting you to dinner.

It's called Cause and Effect.

Look it up.

Do you think these sleeves are too long?

Yeah, I'll cut the cuffs off.

Thank you, Georgie.

Look, Look, it's a simple case of a client wanting to discuss a funeral with her local undertaker over a three-course meal.

It happens all the time.

Are you sure this isn't a tax scam?

Yes.

I mean, it could be.

We haven't seen a body yet.

She's right.

Where is it?

We'll get it when we need it.

Don't be impatient.

You've got other bodies to work on.

I want a new one.

No.

Maybe she's sawing for time.

Was Eric there when she made her invitation?

Yes, and you should have seen the look on his face.

Was it like this?

No, it wasn't.

But that's a good one, too.

Wait, you think Lady Templar's trying to antagonize Chapman by doing business with us?

Just gets better and better.

If she's gaming the system, it doesn't.

She could be attacking Eric's pride, holding out for a discount.

So she never intended to let us do the funeral.

I knew it.

Hey, it's just a theory.

But it fits all the facts.

No, it doesn't.

She's going with us because she wants the better service.

Come on.

What do you mean?

I mean, come on.

Time to get you off to dinner.

No, don't go.

You're being set up.

It'll all end in tears.

Look, stop it.

All of you.

I've added up to here with your gloom, your doom, and your pessimism.

I'm proud of what we achieve here, and you should be too.

And why, may I ask, is it so hard to believe that somebody might actually want to spend an evening in my company over dinner in a public place?

Because it's you.

Well, thank you, Antigone.

Thank you very much.

No thanks.

Lots taken.

If you'll excuse me, I shall leave whilst I have a shred of dignity intact.

Good night.

Trousers!

Here you go, sir.

Thank you.

I must admit to feeling sorry for the poor man, being confronted with fully justified scepticism.

So I tagged along with him to the yacht club, where he was shown outside to a table overlooking the bay.

Lady Templar was waiting for him.

Your seat, monsieur?

Ah, mercy, Beauchenet.

Would monsieur like to order a drink?

Yes.

How hot does your water get here?

Well, he'll have the Dom Perignon with me.

I don't drink.

You will now.

Thank you.

Me, madame.

Why was the waitress looking at you like that?

Like what?

She was scowling.

Ah, my sister got banned from here.

These sorts of places can hold the most ludicrous grudges.

Why was she banned?

Accessory to murder.

Can we eat that bread?

Enjoy.

I must say,

it's an honor to be invited here tonight.

Yes, I'm sure it is.

Too many of our clients don't take the time to socialize with their undertakers.

After all,

we've got feelings too.

Exceptional.

Yes.

And the fact that such a person...

Mmm,

Like yourself, choosing fun funerals when you might prefer to.

Well, may I say, we look forward to organising a brisk and efficient funeral for you in the days ahead.

Yep, yes, prompt.

Lady Templar, are you looking for somebody?

For me?

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, of course no.

Oh, there he is.

Vivian.

Quick, say something funny.

I don't think I can.

What?

That is

so, so pilly.

I'm just having a wonderful evening.

Well, this bread has been baked to perfection.

Hello, you two.

Harry.

Chapman.

Balcony table.

Nice one.

Pleasant evening.

Oh, it's much more than that, isn't it, Rodders?

I can't imagine how, but if you say so, yes.

You don't pourignon, madame?

Thank you.

And we'll have quails, eggs, lobster, and millionaire shortbread.

With diamonds.

Flashing out, I see.

Well, I've got something to celebrate, haven't I?

Your aunt's death?

No.

I meant doing things differently.

Taking the alternative option.

Great.

I might order some bubbly too.

Oh, then why don't you join us for a spell?

I'm sure Rudders won't mind.

Yes, I will.

I can't, really.

I've got my own guest waiting.

Well, then call her over, why don't you?

Fair enough.

Sid, we're over here.

Right with you, Eric Boy.

Wait, what's happening?

Sorry, I didn't say.

I'm dining with Sid Marlowe tonight, talking over some adverts in Piffling Matters, you know.

Oh, it just so happens you're here with a journalist.

Yes, though I can't imagine there's a story here.

Can you?

I'm really looking forward to those quails' eggs.

I watched from behind a mustard jar as the three were joined by Sidney Marlowe, waving his pint of lager with intense excitement.

Oi, Eric.

If you don't like Poisson, they've also got fish.

Good evening, Mr.

Marlowe.

Ah, what's your Templar?

And Rudyard?

Cop limey.

Here, I hope we're not interrupting anything.

We're having dinner.

Say no more, son.

Say no more.

Oh, stop nudging me.

Hang about.

How come you two are having dinner together?

There must be a story here.

I can smell it.

Yochwe's eggs.

Oh, that's what it was.

I'll be off then.

No, Mr.

Marlowe, please sit down.

I wish to make a statement for your newspaper.

Are you sure about this?

Is this a scoop?

Please say it is.

I'm dying for one of them.

The tuna will be proper chuff with me.

Excuse me, Miss Schoffenny.

Yes, yes, what?

We have a message for you.

Oh, thank you.

Rudyard, if you get this note, it means you're still at the restaurant, and I was wrong.

You can do this.

Signed, Antigone.

P.S.

If you muck this up, I won't even know where to begin.

But the first time I'm going to be able to do that.

Oh, well, then.

Lady Templar, about the funeral.

Oh, there's plenty of time for that after my interview.

Mr.

Chapman, Mr.

Marlowe, do sit down.

Trill.

Go on, budge up, Rudyard.

Out.

Right.

Let me get this down on the napkin.

Further to the passing of an aunt of mine, who shall remain nameless, I have decided to arrange her funeral for next Monday with fun funerals.

Next Monday with Chapmans.

Got it?

I said fun funerals.

Good.

Sorry.

Let's try again.

Monday with...

Chapmans.

There, my mistake.

Mr.

Marlowe, I'm not booking my funeral with Chapmans.

Ain't ya?

But it says so on the napkin.

Yes, be that as it may, I am not booking the Chapmans.

So who are you booking with then?

That would be me.

You?

Yes.

So do you work for Chapmans now?

No, I'm still where I always have been.

But that would mean she's booking with fun funerals.

Yes.

But nearly everyone books with Chapmans, don't they?

Well, she hasn't.

Wait a sec.

You, Lady Templar, are booking a funeral with him, Roger Funn, of fun funerals, instead of him, Eric Chapman of Chapmans.

Is that right?

Yes.

Okay,

right.

But it says on the napkin.

Oh, forget the napkin.

Listen to my voice.

Hmm?

I

am

booking with

fun

funerals.

Okay, let's say you're right, and I'm not saying you are.

Oh my god!

I need to ask you.

Here, can I have a quail's egg?

Yes.

Cheers.

Why didn't you just.

You're horrible.

Try one.

No, thank you.

Okay, I'll have yours then.

Now, why didn't you ask Eric to do it for you?

No offence, Rudyard.

Well, Mr.

Marlowe,

Sidney.

It's simply that I.

I did.

You did?

What a twist!

I.

I.

Well,

yes.

So what?

It's called shopping around.

It's simply that I'm not able to meet her requirements.

Fun funerals is?

I find that hard to believe.

No offense, Rudyard.

Yep, sure.

I know that people have said some very unkind things about fun funerals in the past.

Including you, many times.

Yes, yes.

I've filled a page in the Piffling Matters Christmas Annual with the things you've said against fun funerals.

The point is that I've reconsidered the hasty words I may or may not have said in the past.

I mean, here's the annual.

I don't want it!

And I now

believe

that fun funerals offers a unique service.

Yes, that has a great deal of

charm.

And that the team there do not deserve to be written off.

Entirely.

Thank you, Lady Templar.

That's so kind.

Nah, not buying it.

No offense, Rodjord.

But she's just hanging about.

Oh, I know.

Are you bluffing?

Is this a bluff?

You're bluffing nature.

I think it's a bluff.

Is it a bluff?

It's not a bluff.

It is a bluff.

It is not a bluff.

It is a bluff.

Not a bluff.

It is a bluff.

Not a bluff.

It's a bluff.

Not a bluff.

It's a bluff.

Not a bluff.

It is a bluff.

I wouldn't need to bluff.

You'd just give me a bloody freebie.

But But what?

You mean all this is because you expected a free funeral from Eric Chapman?

Lady Templar.

Oh, don't you look at me like that.

I am broke.

You hear me?

Flat out broke.

That fat should leave this table.

Lily.

You simply told me that.

Oh, shut it, it's my git.

Let me tell you, Mr.

Marlowe.

Eric Chapman is a preeming egomaniac.

Now, wait a minute.

I don't think anyone's come out of this looking good.

Oh, except me, maybe.

Is there anything the matter at this table?

No, go away.

Actually, could I get some cheese for Madeline?

Who's Madeline?

Yes, madame.

There's a mouse on a table.

Oh, I shall kill it with my bare hands, madame.

No, she's a friend!

Your friend is a mouse.

Yes, and sometimes she does our account.

That's it!

I've had it out of here with all of you.

But for the end.

Nothing.

I'm not hiring fun funerals, and I'm not hiring you.

I shall be taking my business to Jersey.

But nobody's ever been there and lived.

Yes, yes, they have, actually.

And I'll get a better deal there, too.

And as for you, Eric...

Well,

it was nice while it lasted.

I see.

Right.

Sid, if you want me, I'll be in the bar.

The rest of you, enjoy it.

Oh, good night.

Oh, Eric, wait a tick.

Stop right there, Mr.

Marlowe.

You're not taking this story anywhere.

I am a journalist, Lady Temper, and I cannot cannot allow you to impede a story in the public interest.

You can have this bread if you burn the napkin.

I'm doing it.

Pleasure doing business with you.

Hi, Eric.

Grabs on me.

A ghastly end to a ghastly evening.

God!

I hope I've still got that cheesecake in the fridge.

Lady Templar,

were you really just using us?

Oh.

good night.

You bizarre little man.

Your lobster, monsieur?

And your shortbread and your cheese.

Would you like the bill now or later?

The bill?

I'll bring it later.

Enjoy your meal.

Madeleine, I.

What happened?

Like his sister before him, Rudyard was banned from the yacht club, having refused to sell their house to pay for a meal that nobody wanted.

An hour later, we quietly arrived back home, and Rudyard broke the news.

Well, how'd it go?

We lost the client.

She was stringing us along.

Just like you all said.

I knew it.

I knew it was too good to be true.

I let you into my mortuary.

Oh, it's unclean, unclean.

I'm taking the...

Oh.

Sorry.

I am sorry, Roger.

There'll be other clients.

We're not beaten yet.

Are we?

You should get some sleep.

Good night.

Hey.

Georgie.

What are you still doing here?

You should have gone home hours ago.

Meh thought I'd wait around, see how you got on.

You knew it had end badly, didn't you?

I still hoped it wouldn't.

You okay?

Wish.

I wish we could be taken seriously.

Well.

Give it time, sir.

See you tomorrow.

What is it, Madeline?

The millionaire's shortbread.

Didn't see you sneak that out.

I'd love to.

I'll get us some plates.

And so we ate some shortbread together.

And, to be honest, it was really quite nice.

The Loneliness of the Short-Tempered Ruddyard was written by David K.

Barnes and was performed by Felix Trench as Ruddyard, Beth Eyre as Antigone, Tom Crowley as Eric, Kira Baxendale as Georgie, Katrina Knox as Lady Templar, Sarah Tom as Petunia Bloom, Paul Putner as Sid Marlowe, Holly Campbell as Tanya, and Belinda Lang as Madeline, with additional voices by Holly Campbell and Pip Gladwin.

Original music composed by James Whittle.

The program was recorded at the Art Space Studios and was produced and directed by Andy Goddard and John Wakefield.

The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish.

You're juggling a lot.

Full-time job, side hustle, maybe a family.

And now you're thinking about grad school?

That's not crazy.

That's ambitious.

At American Public University, we respect the hustle and we're built for it.

Our flexible online master's programs are made for real life because big dreams deserve a real path.

Learn more about APU's 40-plus career-relevant master's degrees and certificates at apu.apus.edu.

APU built for the hustle.