Season 2 Episode 7: Undertakers Underground

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Honey Punches of Votes is the forma perfecta depending on families.

Conjuelas crucientes and verdad qual ninos les encantas.

Ademas delicios o trosos degranola nuces y fruta que todos vanadis brutad.

Honey punches the votes for all.

Tocal benefits.

Radyard Fun runs a funeral home in the village of Piffling Vale.

He used to run it by himself.

He doesn't anymore.

When we last left Rudyard, a bomb had exploded and the entire world was about to cave in.

Is anyone hurt?

Is anyone dead?

If this doesn't shift a few of my books, then nothing will.

Wooden Overcoats created by David K.

Barnes, Season 2, Episode 7: Undertakers Underground by David K.

Barnes and Tom Crowley.

Now then,

where did I leave off?

Someone!

Yes, there we go.

Rudyard had made friends with Jerry the Baker, who, in a stroke of bad luck, had turned out to be be a deadly maniac.

But the bomb intended for Eric Chapman had blown up the entrance to the uranium mine.

The dust was beginning to clear.

Is anyone hurt?

Reverend?

Reverend, are you all right?

I think so.

My goodness.

How peculiar?

What is?

Intense religious experiences some people get after a brush with death.

Yeah.

Well, I didn't have one.

What a sweet.

I'm here, sir.

You're bruised and covered in hundreds and thousands, but there's no bones broken.

Madam?

She's on my shoulder.

She's safe.

But I still can't see where.

Oh, God.

Where's Antigone?

Oh, God.

Where's Eric?

Where, indeed?

As the rest of us counted our limbs on the island's surface, there stirred within the pitch-black interior of the crumbling mineshaft a frightened and thoroughly fed-up figure.

Hello?

Hello?

Anyone here?

Fantastic.

Underground, entirely alone.

In total, perfect darkness.

I knew it would end like this.

New, or somehow hoped.

No, that's ridiculous.

I'm not suicidal.

I'm not today anyway.

Antigona.

Oh, You did that on purpose.

Yes, I did actually.

How are you?

Oh, all in one piece.

And I see you survived.

Just barely.

Oh, this scene was brand new today as well.

My heart bleeds for you.

What are we looking at here?

Come on, bloody phone.

Cost enough.

Oh, there we are.

Thank God the torch still works.

So now we can look at Bear Rock Face instead of Pitch Black Nothing, our hero.

Okay.

Your brother and his new best mate just tried to kill me with a DIY IED, and given our current predicament, they may not have actually failed.

None of that's my fault.

Nor is it mine, so I'd appreciate it for once you'd stop giving me a hard time.

Why don't you stop yelling at me and do something useful?

Does your phone have any signal or not?

No.

Because of the uranium.

Because they're not in the Reverend's bathroom.

Besides, there's no uranium left.

Alter Geniev was a damn good miner.

I'm more worried about Jerry.

Jerry?

Do Do you think he could be down here with us?

I expect if he were, he'd have killed us by now.

And he hasn't?

So he isn't.

Next question.

Look, he could be hiding somewhere, biding his time.

Me telling me this hasn't happened to you a long time ago.

What being hunted down by a killer pastry chef?

Yes.

Oh, yeah, it used to happen every day.

Well, look, I can't see any tunnels for him to hide in.

Which also means we're entirely trapped.

This chamber isn't very big, and there's nowhere for us to go.

So

all we can do is sit here and wait to be rescued.

Exactly.

God knows how long that could take.

Until then, it's just the two of us trapped here alone, in the dark.

Practically on top of each other.

More or less.

Smashing.

Meanwhile, outside the mine, Piffling's best and brightest had gathered to survey the situation.

By which I mean, Agatha Doyle had popped over from the sweet sweet shop to see what was going on.

So,

let me get this straight, as they say.

Jerry whips out a bomb.

ES.

He sets it off.

Yeah.

And the mine collapses.

Got it.

I see.

Suspicious, one could say.

I thought so.

Blooming heck, how about we stop wasting time and actually do something?

Young woman, I'm on the verge of solving a most interesting case.

Antigone and Eric are trapped in there.

They could be dead already.

Don't we have any emergency services?

There's the Coast Guard and the Fire Marshal.

Great.

Where are they?

They're both me.

I could fix a rubber ring or a bucket of sand.

It's your choice.

Flipping, Nora.

Rudyard?

Rudyard, what is wrong with you?

Oh, poor chap.

He's in shock.

Seen it before.

Usually a prelude to the five stages of grieving.

Rudyard, this is no time for grieving.

We don't know if Antigone,

whatever.

We don't know if they're even alive in there.

For God's sake, Rudyard, wake up.

Bomb, what, bomb?

I didn't mention.

I don't know anything about a bomb.

I'm not even convinced there was a bullying bomb.

Bruvit, I defy you.

No, dear.

Stage one, denial.

It's a storm in a teacup, you'll see.

Give me that pickaxe.

Here, Antigone!

Have this trouble cleared in a chippy.

Not long now!

Will, he's having bugger-all effect on those rocks, but you can't fault his enthusiasm, can you?

We can't sit here all day watching Rudyard fail.

I get enough of that at work.

Very good.

We have to find another way into that mine.

I suppose you could do with a map of the tunnels.

Oh, I think Desmond's got one of those.

Has he?

Yes.

Uh, when was it?

Um, oh, that's right.

We were planning a treasure hunt for Lady Templar's birthday.

Never did find a prize.

But who says you can't have a jolly birthday surrounded by mining equipment?

That's my motto.

Reverend, where are those plans?

I, um,

uh, ooh, uh,

I don't know.

You'd have to ask Desmond.

Right, I'm on it.

Rogiardi, you cut

flipping hell.

Let me through, you obstinate rocks!

It's like talking to a brickwalk.

You two, make sure he doesn't hurt himself.

Right, home.

I'll be back.

I suppose I ought to stay here.

A fire could break out.

Have you got a bucket of sand?

No.

Ooh.

You got me worried now?

I knew that whatever Georgie did was likely to be quite exciting, so I asked a ladybird to take notes for me while I accompanied Georgie to the office of Piffling Vale's premier statesman, Mayor Desmond Desmond.

Where are we now?

I'm ah, sped sheets, budget deficit.

Recycle bin.

Well, that wasn't so hard.

Mr.

Man!

Well, oh, Corks, they flung me.

Your worship, I need access to your files now.

No, no, no, please!

I declared all my illegitimate earnings.

Travel and bribes, I exempt.

I check.

Stop climbing out the window.

You can't make me.

Come back.

This isn't about your taxes.

There's been an accident.

Antigone could be in terrible danger.

Who?

Eric Chapman could be in terrible danger.

Eric, we can't have that.

How can I help?

Okay, Eric and Antigone, stop it.

Are trapped in the old uranium mine.

I need to know what's under Piffling.

Mine shafts, sewers, everything.

We have to get into that mine.

Exactly.

Right, you'd better find some maps.

You mean you don't know where they are?

Well, I don't always read everything I'm given.

In fact, come to think of it, you do.

Damn it.

You know where things are now.

The files, the hatstand, the cocktail recipe book.

Where is that, by the way?

Still on your desk.

There we are.

Now, find me the page for a rum and cook.

Moulad, Focus.

Are you sure you don't have any chart of the islands?

Uh, well, um, uh yes, yeah,

wait a minute.

Ah, here we are.

Look!

What is it?

A piffling kid's non-copyright infringing laughter meal.

On the box, there's a kiddie's fun map.

You can punch it out and make a little piffling of your own.

Fine.

The lighthouse,

the owl sanctuary,

Chapman's.

Hang on.

Fun funeral should be here.

Then there'd be no room for the safari park.

Bingo!

Old uranium mine.

Here be danger.

You're not kidding, Ronald McPiffling.

If only all those dancing chips went in the way.

There's no time for this.

I need real charts of the island.

Topographic maps.

I'm sorry, Miss Crusoe.

I haven't seen anything like that since our last spring clean.

That was before your time, of course.

Back when it was still run by.

Marjorie.

That's it, Mr.

Mayor.

She can help us.

No, no, you mustn't.

She's too dangerous.

She'll bite your nose off and use it as a pencil sharp.

Look, that's very impractical, and there's no other way.

I've got to speak to her

at the Chapman Community Hospital.

Whilst the mayor crawled under his desk in terror,

tensions were running a little high in the dark of the uranium mine.

Three, two, one.

Oh, Christ!

Paper beats rock.

Sorry.

Oh, yes.

The Crusaders' trebuchets are at the gates.

But not to worry, Saladin.

I have got this lovely piece of paper.

How do you know so much about the Battle of Acre?

I was a lonely child.

Not altogether surprising.

What do you mean by that?

Nothing.

Let's play again.

Best of 309.

All we're going to do is sit around playing rock, paper, scissors.

And I'd rather be stuck down here alone.

Just me and my regrets and salad in behind the city walls.

This place isn't exactly an adventure playground.

What do you want us to do?

Talk.

To each other.

Maybe.

Talk.

Alright.

Who wants to go first?

Well.

I know.

Why don't we talk about how you and your brother have shown me nothing but resentment ever since I arrived here?

I don't like that topic very much.

That's funny, nor do I.

You try and wreck everything I do, you scorn my every attempt to make friends.

Any time I try and help you, you assume I'm playing some kind of mind game.

Well, you're clever enough.

You could be playing a mind game with me right now.

Antigone, please.

Perhaps you planned the whole thing from the start, just to get me alone down here.

But why, Chapman?

Why?

Thank God.

Antigone!

You know the only reason we're stuck in a mind shaft is because your brother tried to help someone turn me into Patton.

Well, I knew they were up to no good.

And you said nothing.

You couldn't tell me your own brother was trying to murder me.

No.

Why not?

It's embarrassing.

Why do I.

Even try.

Chapman, you moving across the square.

You open up your own funeral home.

It's better than ours, and you know it.

Why do you think it's so strange that we don't get on?

Okay, look, let's just cool off for a second.

No.

It's just the stress getting to us.

We didn't cool off when you were insulting me.

Fine.

Let's open Pandora's box.

Basically, I'm a businessman, and we're in a competitive industry.

It wasn't until you showed up.

Oh, what's the use?

All the irons to choose from.

Why did you come here?

I can't tell you that.

Did it all start a long time ago?

No.

Quite recently, as a matter of fact.

But that's all I'm able to say right now.

Fine.

Be enigmatic if it gives you any comfort.

And if you remember, before I came along, you hadn't even stepped outside in 17 years.

Maybe I preferred it.

You can't mean that.

How do you know?

Maybe it was better when I'd forgotten what the world was like.

What is it now?

Give me your torch.

Why?

Oh,

look.

Look!

And it's sticking out of the rubble.

Good lord, you're right.

It's somebody's arm.

And whilst Antigone and Eric made their gruesome discovery, events outside the mine were hotting up, too.

Cup of tea, ready out!

Here it is!

Oh, I see.

Still on denial, okay.

Damn you, box.

I'll turn you into a pebble bitch.

Ah, we may have moved on to anger.

Over it!

Over it!

All the devil's going on over there!

Now,

stay back, please.

Thank you very much.

Jennifer Delacroix, Piffling FM.

Miss Doyle, would you care to comment?

About what?

Anything you like?

I'm just pleased to be here.

Right, step aside.

This is for the professionals.

Come on, darling, give us a story.

No.

Oh, please, I'll be your friend.

Dealing with the press, Miss Doyle?

Just keeping the massing hoards at bay.

I've never been called a massing hoard before.

I don't think I like it, Miss Doyle.

Does this point to an anti-press bias in the Piffling Constabulary?

Ooh, how do you respond to the allegations that you have hurt my feelings?

I didn't mean to offend anybody.

Sorry, everyone.

Well, why not to worry?

No harm done.

You're not gonna let her off the hook like that, are ya?

Look, hypocritical Piffling police, shame-faced after press bashing gaff.

That's how you do it.

Oh, that does sound sharp.

Oh, for goodness sake, let me have a bat at them, Miss Doyle.

Yeah, I moved this police tape aside.

Ugh.

What's it made of?

Strawberry laces.

It was all I had on me.

Now, Reverend Waverley,

can you give us the picture on the tragic events of this afternoon?

Yes.

Jerry had a bomb, and then he blew it up.

God, that's vivv.

Uh, now, can you tell us a little bit about your own personal trauma after this tragedy?

Uh, oh, uh,

I'm terribly sorry, I don't think I have any.

You've not been crying, howling, any thrashing?

No, not really.

Oh, no story here, then.

Oh, half full.

I'm off for a pint.

It's your round.

Well, I I actually, uh I I suppose I am rather worried about Eric Chapman.

Eric Chapman?

What about Eric Chapman?

He was in there during the cave-in with Antigone Fun.

I thought she was dead.

No, she thought you were dead.

Oh, yeah.

And you see, the two of them are either trapped inside that little lot, or.

Well,

worse.

You mean Eric Chapman killed?

Brilliant!

This is even better than the last time he died.

I didn't say he was dead.

But to the best of your knowledge, you can't confirm he isn't.

I wouldn't put it like that, I suppose I can't.

Great!

Finally, something to actually talk about on the air.

I'll have to bump the word search to page three.

Dry good work, Reverend.

You've kept them busy.

I hope Chapman doesn't mind me saying he's dead.

He's never had a problem with it before.

Boy,

is that Rodjard Funn over there?

Eh?

Oh,

well, um.

Hey!

Mr.

Fun!

Mr.

Fun!

Mr.

Fun!

Get out of here!

Roger, boy!

What's your Rodjard?

Are you relieved to hear?

Jennifer Delacroix, Piffling FM, are you relieved to hear that your nemesis, Eric Chapman, may have been slain?

Or are you annoyed he didn't do it yourself?

Unless he did do it himself.

You don't think he did.

Mr.

Funn, did you do it yourself?

Give me five more minutes, that's all I need.

Eh?

What's he talking about?

Could you clarify that for our listeners, Mr.

Funn?

I'll do anything.

Just five more minutes.

Oh, splendid.

We're up to bargaining now.

Only two stages left to go.

Elsewhere, Georgie had arrived at the Chapman Community Hospital.

Hiffling Vale boasts two busy and thriving hospitals, and only one doctor between them.

Dr.

Henry Edgware met Georgie in the voye, had a good cry, and then led her down to the maximum security wing.

You know, I can't say I approve of this, Miss Crusoe.

I don't have a choice, Doctor.

I need those maps.

She's incredibly dangerous, so don't get too close.

She bit off one of my my fingers yesterday.

Are you okay?

Oh, yes, I'm too tired to feel pain.

Oh, here we are.

Room six six six.

Miss Smith, we'd like a word of you, please.

Do you have an appointment?

I do so like it when people have an appointment.

Ah, yes, it's very original.

If you need me, Miss Crusoe, I'll just be

here.

Jeez, you have a sit down, eh?

My legs seized up four months ago.

But thank you.

Marjorie?

You in there?

Oh,

it's you!

My replacement!

Hope you've heard then.

Ah, the odd fact or figure finds its way to me like whispers on the breeze.

Plus, Doctor Edgeware collapses in the corridor and talks in his sleep.

He's better than the world's service.

How convenient.

I still remember every corner of this island.

Every tiny detail.

How is dear old fun funerals?

Not bad.

What about Rudyar's little pet mouse?

Ask her.

And the chip in the dresser by the kitchen door?

It's still there.

Now, could you.

And how is that mug that you broke on the 11th of June?

We drew it away.

Look, short.

I need your help.

Ooh.

Straight and to the point.

I like that.

You know, we're not so very different, you and I.

Yeah, we are.

No, we're not.

We are, though.

Not so different.

We are extremely different people.

Maybe in a few small areas.

Like, I haven't gone on a killing spree.

Not yet, anyway.

I'm not doing it.

Sure about that?

Not gonna happen.

I think you will.

Well, I won't.

We'll see.

That doesn't mean anything, just saying we'll see.

We'll see, though, won't we?

Would you shut up?

See, getting close.

Marjorie, this is serious.

I need something.

My, oh my.

What on earth could the mayor's bright, shiny new assistant possibly need from the little old, obsolete me?

Information.

You won't get it!

I need maps of the underground tunnels of Piffling.

Well, ask the mayor where they are.

He says you can't remember where anything is after your last spring clean.

But

I told him!

I took him through every ass detail.

But that's all in the past now.

You going to tell me where they are or what?

Perhaps I will.

But first, I want something from you.

Okay, go for it.

It's not much, Dar.

Yes, but just a teeny, tiny little.

Marjorie, Marjorie, what is it you want?

The admin.

The admin.

I want it.

All of it.

Every building permit.

Every declaration of a site of natural interest.

Every naming of a park bench.

Everything will come through me, and I will know

everything.

I shall be

everything.

This whole village, this whole island, it will all be me, and then only then will I-

Alright.

Uh

sorry, you can have the admin.

What?

All of it?

Yeah, it's really boring.

Done.

Deal.

Oh.

Well.

Yes.

Alright.

Good.

Good.

Shall we shake on it?

No, thanks.

Damn, I was really starting to like fingers.

So why the max?

Coke to the recipe book.

Oh, for flick's sake.

If I just merge that rum and coke.

Doctor Edgeworth, she's all yours.

It's better not to wake him.

I'm not a doctor.

I am a free

man.

Whilst Georgie made for the hall to fix a belated rum and coke, Antigone and Eric were analyzing the familiar arm sticking out from amongst the rubble.

So

that's the end of Jerry.

Crushed by his own cave-in.

Are they sure it's him?

See the large callus on his thumb and the heel of his palm.

That's a needing hand.

He doesn't need much anymore.

Oh, yes, he's a baker.

Sorry.

He was a violent monomaniac, and he manipulated my brother.

But I'm still sorry he's dead.

Stupid, isn't it?

Got to accept death in our line of work.

Of course, I accept it.

I just don't like it.

Never have.

Seems he was reaching out for something as he died.

Oh!

Look at this.

Desmond Desmond's secret illegal reserve.

Happy birthday, Lady Templar.

30 again, is it?

Ha ha.

Oh, sorry, that may have been offensive.

Love mayor.

Moonshine.

That cheeky old mayor.

Ah, oh.

I think drinking it might send us blind.

But I'll bet you it's loaded with methanol.

Very useful if you've got an arm to embalm.

A job for a pair of undertakers, wouldn't you say?

I suppose nobody else can hold a service for him.

I think I've got something to inject this with, too.

Let's see.

My journal, a compass, a couple of passports.

What's in that flask?

Holy water.

Really?

No, it's Perrier.

Ah, here we go.

Portable Embalmer's friend.

Syringe, cotton pads, car sickness tablets.

Never leave the house without it.

Very impressive.

Pass it over.

Full dose of the mayor's reserve.

You'd better get speaking, haven't you?

Oh, uh, yes.

Well.

Come on, come on.

All right.

Farewell, Jerry.

Despite your anger management problems and your recent attempt to kill me, we hope that you now find the peace you so evidently needed, which murder sadly, well, happily, was not able to provide.

Unless we starve to death, in which case, top job.

Apply fluid to subject.

And may your God be with you.

May not be much, Jerry, but at least you'll have a presentable forearm wherever you're going.

You know, considering we had no resources and no warning and no genuine affection for the deceased, I think we gave him a pretty good send-off.

Front page news, Eric Chapman leads successful funeral.

Antigone fun, brilliant once again.

Yes, well.

Should I shut up?

Come on.

You know you are.

You're an artisan.

I wonder when we'll get out of here.

Remember Mr.

Noggin's funeral?

Nobody else could have done that.

And then there's your scented embalming fluids.

And those chocolates you designed.

Don't tell me you like them.

Done like them.

They're amazing.

Beautiful, in fact.

An acquired taste, maybe.

But then again, I once had to live off scorpion meat in the Mojave Desert for six days, days, so what do I know?

Uh, you should probably forget that.

You

bought my chocolates.

Had to fight for it, mind you.

Agatha did say something about having the remaining stock destroyed in a controlled explosion, but I managed to talk around.

Well, I'm well, I.

I suppose I should say lots of positive things about you then.

You don't have to.

Why?

Because you know you're fantastic.

Yep.

Doesn't get us out of this pickle, though, does it?

They've probably forgotten all about us up there.

No.

Bet they're in a right old panic.

Calling out the SAS, Interpol, MI5.

Which could be awkward.

Uh.

My phone.

Low battery.

Ye yes.

Which will mean uh

no more light.

I'd rather die in the dark.

At least then you don't know when it's happened.

I've given it a lot of thought.

We'll be fine.

Really.

Just fine.

Chapman?

Yep.

Getting a bit chilly, isn't it?

It must be getting late.

Well, I know a few survival tactics.

If they don't find us by nightfall, we'll have to huddle together for warmth.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.

Though they didn't know it, help was on its way.

It seems the reporters have wandered off from Stoyle.

Yes, River.

I think they lost interest.

Probably making a beeline for the post office.

I hear Mrs.

Lemkoff has a bunion in the shape of David Niven.

How peculiar.

I've heard Douglas Fairbanks.

Oh.

Either way, it's got a moustache.

How's Rodhard getting on?

Up to depression, I think.

One stage to go.

Look, Reverend, this Crusoe's coming.

Yes, am I, bro?

Way she!

Wee!

Steady on!

Thought we could do with a bit of speed and efficiency?

Nigel, Nigel, we must get one of these.

Whack it on the Christmas list.

Miss Crusoe, did you find the maps you needed?

Right here.

We need to find the tunnel that gets us into that mineshaft.

Let's see.

There's Smuggler's Cove and the Sodbury family crypt.

Oops.

We probably should have put him in there.

Hey, what are these?

All these straight, even tunnels and large chambers all linked together.

Those can't be natural.

Of course, the old military complex.

I didn't think we had a military presence on Pifling.

Well, uh,

no, those tunnels were going to be part of a military hospital excavated in the early 1940s by, um, well, a handful of pipling residents who were um sympathetic to certain other countries who might have shown an interest in occupying the island at one point oh that's difficult so they wanted to build them an underground hospital next to a large uranium deposit i said they were sympathetic not considerate hey look one of the tunnels runs parallel to the mine shaft Right next to Crankenhouse Statson Drive.

Not so loud.

If we can get in, we could dig through it in no time.

And it looks like the best way into the base is Smuggler's Cove.

It's not far, but the sun's going down.

If we don't get in there pretty quick, they'll freeze to death.

That's not gonna happen, Reverend, because I'm gonna bring them back alive.

Look after Rudyard for me!

No problem!

Why won't these rocks go away?

Could the rescue mission reach Antigone and Eric in time?

In the depths of the mineshaft, the temperature was dropping, as were their hopes of escape.

Not long till the lights go out.

You know, if you weren't down here with me, they'd never have noticed I was missing in the first place.

Come on, that's not true.

I once got trapped under a body, Mr.

Pressberger, three-time winner of the local stockiest man competition.

Nobody came down to check on me for three days.

How did you survive?

I subsisted on bitterness.

Hmm.

Reminds me of the time I was mountaineering in South America.

What?

Now, go on.

I was halfway up back on Kagua when I slipped and fell into a crevasse.

My arm got trapped in the rocks.

I couldn't even move.

It was agony.

I was hanging on for dear life.

And in my mind, the dark thought.

It was either lose the arm and fall to my death, or stay there and waste away.

What happened?

Oh, another mountaineer passed by and helped me up.

Of course they did.

There was a hospital around the corner with a sauna, where diamonds were used as cheap currency.

How do you do it?

Do what?

Do all of it?

You've been everywhere, done everything.

Yes.

But at what cost?

Chat money!

And you keep grabbing people's attention all the time, like the eyes of the world are upon you, and you thrive on it.

Well, nothing ventured.

It's just so

alien to me.

Don't make an exhibition of yourself, my parents said.

You don't want to look a fool.

You know, they took us to the circus once.

As a birthday treat.

Six years old.

I mean, Brudo didn't want to come.

He wanted to stay at home with his electric train set.

He kept saying the service would break down if he wasn't there.

He got incredibly anxious about that train set.

But you did go, in the end?

Yes.

I didn't like it at first.

I've been looking forward to it all day, punching Rajad in the arm whenever he complained, but once we got there, I just couldn't get excited about tightrope walking and lion taming.

Yes, I always find lion-tamings more fun to do than to watch.

Everyone else was applauding and gasping, and I didn't know what was wrong with me.

And then,

just at the end,

they brought on the clowns.

You like the clowns?

One in particular, Bijou.

Dressed all in white, except for this big red nose.

And she tumbled and flipped and caught buckets of water in the face.

Just thriving on doing whatever she liked.

My parents didn't approve, and Rajard kept shouting, For the love of God, can we all be serious about this for a minute?

But I couldn't stop watching her.

It was the happiest night of my life.

Surprised you didn't try and follow in her footsteps.

I tried,

I was stopped.

But

she was so charismatic and free, and

I wanted to be just like her.

I'd give anything to see Bijou again.

How about next week?

That isn't funny.

No, I mean it.

If it's the traveling circus you're talking about, they're still touring.

Really?

They never stopped.

They just travel from one end of the island and back again.

It's something to do with arts funding.

I don't know.

But Bijou's still there.

And performing.

The things you miss when you spend 17 years in a mortuary.

Why don't we go?

Together.

Yeah.

If we ever make make it out of here alive, I mean.

You don't need to humor me.

I'm not.

I'd love to meet the person who can make Antigone fun laugh.

Besides, I haven't been to a decent circus in ages.

Ah.

Okay.

That's bad.

No battery.

And no light.

Great.

Great.

Oh, great.

Okay.

That's great.

Antigone, are you still there?

Of course I am, though.

There's nowhere to go.

Thank you.

It's.

this is gonna sound

I'm afraid I'm not terribly altogether.

You're scared of the dark.

No, no, it's.

it's just not knowing what's up and what's down and how far it all is.

It's it's really that

that's what it all is.

Just breathe.

Try and relax.

It's really hard to do that.

You're fine.

I can see you.

Can you?

Yes.

All those years in a mortuary, you adapt.

Well,

how do I look?

I could

hold your hand

if you like.

Sorry?

I mean,

if it would help you

at all.

Sure.

Sure, no, please.

Happy to try it.

Right.

I'm

holding my hand out.

I know.

I can see it.

I'm taking your hand now.

Antigone?

Antigone?

Yes.

Thanks.

That really does make it better.

Teamwork, eh?

Antigone?

Antigone, what?

What's that sound?

What's what sound?

There's no sound this team.

No, no, no, there's something coming from.

Antigone!

Eric?

Is anyone there?

What who on earth in the nail trifle was we want?

Um.

Yes, we're here.

The day was saved.

Having prized Antigone's hand away from Eric's, Georgie led them through the tunnel network and outside into the cool night air.

But mice have an instinct for unfinished business, and I could tell that things weren't over yet.

Look, there they are!

They're saved!

Told you, I'm great at bringing people back alive.

No bones broken, Eric.

If you sue us, I'll be quite understanding.

Though, bankrupt.

It's okay, my dignity is bruised.

That's all.

Antigone?

Why can't people leave well alone?

What was that?

I said, yes, sir.

Well done, Georgie.

Big help.

Thanks.

You must all have quite the story to tell.

Let's just say, I've seen a lot of tunnels with some very striking insignia on them.

And let's never speak of it again.

Here, here!

Hey, where's Rudyard been during all this?

No, now look.

Here, I think it's.

Yes, it's acceptance!

I'm accepting it now.

Rudyard, there's nothing to accept.

Look at us, we're fine.

Don't be ridiculous, Antigone.

Your dad's down in mineshaft, and that's okay.

Poor fellow's exhausted.

He should really put that pickaxe down before he.

Hurts himself.

For what?

Oh, full acceptance was the nice bit.

Oh, hang on, sir.

I'm coming.

Catch you for this chap, boy.

How is it my.

Never mind.

I had better help take him to Dr.

Edgware.

Eric, Mr.

Marlow's here and wants an interview.

Shall we all go for an Indian?

Pop a doms are on me, Eric boy.

I'll catch you up.

Antigone, wait.

What happened?

In the mineshaft?

That was important.

You

thought so.

It meant something back there.

Couldn't you feel it?

Well, I...

Maybe I...

What's happening?

Antigone, I.

I want you.

I've not finished.

I want you

to come and work with me.

Do what?

Jerry's funeral.

The two of us, side by side.

It really got me thinking.

You and I could run a funeral parlour with twice the potential of Chapman's, and five times the potential of fun funerals.

What do you mean, five times the potential?

Look, you and me working together, running our own funeral parlour.

It could work.

I know it's a lot to think about, but I'm just

please think about it.

Rudyard, stop moving.

You'll break your ankle.

Oh, my ankle.

All right, Chapman, I'll

think about it.

I'll see you next week at the circus.

Enjoy yourself.

The two of us

together.

Oh, bloody, bloody hell.

Georgie, you're not helping.

Stop writhing in agony.

Go!

As Rudyard writhed and Georgie fussed, neither knew that Antigone faced a decision that could quite permanently spell the end of fun funerals as we knew it.

Undertaker's Underground was written by David K.

Barnes and Tom Crowley and was performed by Felix Trench as Ruddyard, Beth Eyre as Antigone, Tom Crowley as Eric, Hera Baxendale as Georgie, Sean Baker as The Mayor, Andy Seekham as Reverend Wavering, Alison Skilbeck as Agatha Doyle, Elma Calpine as Marjorie, Paul Putner as Sid Marlowe, Alana Ross as Jennifer Delacroix, David K.

Barnes as Dr.

Edgware, and Belinda Lang as Madeline, with additional voices by Holly Campbell and Pip Gladwin.

Original music composed by James Whittle.

The programme was recorded at the Art Space Studios by Tom Guillieron and is directed and produced by Andy Goddard and John Wakefield.

The Fable and Folly Network, where fiction producers flourish.

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