John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme series 9 episode 6

This is John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme.
[intro music]

Narrator: 1951: London

["By the Sleepy Lagoon" plays]

Host:
How do you do, ladies and gentlemen. On our desert island this week, we welcome the eminent author and antiquarian, Patrick Nightingale. [Patrick coughs] Mr. Nightingale, are you a musical person?

Patrick:
No.

Host:
But does music mean a lot to you?

Patrick:
Certainly not.

Host:
Really? No music at all?

Patrick:
Uh, yes, naturally one has regard for Mozart and... others of his ilk.

Host:
But you haven't chosen music by Mozart for any of your--

Patrick:
Certainly not.

Host:
Ah. Well, let us have your first choice. What's it to be?

Patrick:
It is a piece of music entitled "Strangers on the Shore".

Host:
And why have you selected this particular piece?

Patrick:
Because it concerns persons on a shore. A sea shore, such as a desert island would have.

Host:
And is it a particular favourite of yours?

Patrick:
No, certainly not. I've only heard it once. My son suggested it and played it to me.

Host:
And you liked it?

Patrick:
There seems nothing to object to in it.

Host:
Well, then, let's hear it.

[slow jazz music starts]

Narrator: 2017: Hastings

Russ:
Hi, gang! I'm back!

Alex:
Hi! We're in here!

Russ:
Hi, Toby!

Toby:
Did you enjoy your fishing?

Russ:
Well, no. Because I didn't go fishing, did I?

Toby:
Granddad Cliff went fishing.

Russ:
Yeah. And if you wanna stop him, you take it up with Granddad Cliff. I went fish feeding.

Toby:
Hm. Did Granddad Cliff murder lots of fish today?

Russ:
You'd have to ask him. What I can tell you is how many fish I murdered today. And that number, as usual, was zero. And there's not much chance of that changing. Unless I start using a hook.

Toby:
It's still weird though, isn't it? Poor fish comes along, sees two worms, doesn't know he's choosing between dinner and death!

Russ:
Yeah, but Granddad Cliff's hook's gonna be there anyway, so there's always a death worm. At least this way, there's a chance it's a dinner worm.

Toby:
I still think it's weird.

[door slams]

Russ:
She's on form.

Alex:
Well she's not wrong. It is weird.

Russ:
Oh, don't you start.

Alex:
Nah, I mean, I mean for your dad. Must be weird for him. Him sitting there fishing, you with an empty line.

Russ:
He doesn't know it's empty.

Alex:
He doesn't know?

Russ:
No. He's never asked.

Alex:
Doesn't he think it's strange you never catch anything?

Russ:
Nah, he just thinks I'm crap at fishing, which he likes. So everyone's happy. I get a chat with dad. Dad gets to do his joke about how I haven't even caught a cold. And Toby gets a dad who doesn't murder fish.

Alex:
What about the worms?

Russ:
She hasn't thought about the worms yet. Don't say a word.

Narrator: 1965: Long Buckby

Deborah:
Granddad?

Walter:
Ah! Hello. There you are, Deborah. I didn't hear you come in.

Deborah:
I didn't come in.

Walter:
Didn't you?

Deborah:
I was already in the room when you came in.

Walter:
Oh, yes.

Deborah:
20 minutes ago.

Walter:
Yes. Sorry, I should have said something before. Companionable silence though, I thought, eh?

Deborah:
Granddad, are you blind?

Walter:
Oh, well, "blind" is putting it a bit strong perhaps. Eyes not quite what they were, certainly.

Deborah:
Then why don't you wear glasses like Granny?

Walter:
Yes. Yes, glasses. Of course. They'd be the very thing, wouldn't they?

Deborah:
Who are you talking to, Granddad?

Walter:
Ah, you... you've moved.

Deborah:
Yes.

Walter:
Bit of an old trick, possibly, old girl, wasn't it?

Deborah:
Yes. Sorry.

Walter:
No, no, no, no, quite alright. Don't mention it.

Deborah:
When did it happen?

Walter:
Oh, a while back now.

Deborah:
When?

Walter:
Well, the-- I suppose during the war, really.

Deborah:
The war? You mean, all my life?

Walter:
Uh, yes. I suppose so. Sorry.

Deborah:
But why do you pretend?

Walter:
Oh, I wouldn't say "pretend", I just don't mention it particularly, if it doesn't come up.

Deborah:
But how do you manage?

Walter:
Well, your grandmother's a great help, of course.

Deborah:
Why? What does she--?

Vanessa:
Ah, Walter, there you are. Oh, and Deborah, too, you look very cosy over there, dear, in that window seat. How nice.

Narrator: 1961: Shepherd's Bush

[piano music]

Jerry:
[singing] Comfortable men living comfortable lives
in their comfortable homes with comfortable wives
in their comfortable chair and their comfortable shoes,
they're enjoying a comfortable snooze.
Best to ignore the uncomfortable news
from South Africa or Vietnam.
No need to worry, just sit tight in Surrey
and thank God you're a comfortable man.

Auditioner:
Mm, yes. Biting.

Jerry:
Thank you.

Auditioner:
The snag's the war, of course.

Jerry:
[laughs] I'm sorry?

Auditioner:
Well, only... the object of your satire, I take it, is that the comfortable men have never done anything that mattered or, or stood up for anything they believed in so... the war's a snag.

Jerry:
I see what you mean.

Auditioner:
Your hard lines on you, of course. Every generation sings that song to the one above; it usually sticks. Men do get comfortable; there's no denying it. Just rotten luck for you that these particular comfortable men can say, "Well hang on a tick, I lost six pints of blood at El Alamein to save the world from fascism, if that counts for anything."

Jerry:
I say, I beg your pardon, sir, I had no idea!

Auditioner:
Oh, lord, no, no not me. No, I, I had a terribly comfortable war, sending forms to farmers. Getting them to send them back again was tricky, mind you, but not El Alamein tricky. No. Me you have bang to rights. Uh, I even live in Kent, which would be Surrey if it could. I'm just not certain it's generally applicable. And in any case, I'm... d'you know, I'm always a little doubtful at ticking people off, living in places and doing jobs. Anyway, look here, thanks for coming in. Uh, not for us; not bad. You can more or less scan, at least, which you'd be surprised how few can. Keep writing, you'll get better.

Jerry:
Thank you, sir. And... may I keep sending them to you?

Auditioner:
...I say, do you mind awfully if I say no? You will get better, as I say, but we're a little up against it for this show. We rather need "good already".

Jerry:
Yes, of course, sir, quite understand. Thank you, sir.

Auditioner:
Oh, and for what it's worth, tiny thing: soon as I heard "lives" I was waiting for "wives". Like "college" and "knowledge", you know? Steer clear if you can.

Narrator: 1978: Long Buckby

[birds chirping]

Vanessa:
Can I ask you something, Uncle Newt?

Newt:
Of course, my dear.

Vanessa:
I never asked before... I, I don't know whether because I, I thought you shouldn't like me to ask or... because I shouldn't like to be told.

Newt:
Oh, dear me.

Vanessa:
Well, look, uh... I'll just out with it. Um. Was my mother, my mother?

Newt:
Yes.

Vanessa:
Ah. I, I see, I've left room for creative ambiguity. What I mean was, was Mother-- was Susanna Noone my mother?

Newt:
I'm not quite so devious as you seem to think me. I understood what you meant, and I answered accordingly. Susanna was your mother.

Vanessa:
Ah. Only... I always wondered if perhaps Aunt Gally was.

Newt:
Oh, my dear. Aunt Gally would have loved to have been your mother. And really, you know, she, she was one of your two mothers in every meaningful, truthful sense. Except one. Susanna gave birth to you.

Vanessa:
Ah. Thank you. It's just... I look so much like Gally, and very little like Mother.

Newt:
Oh, that's not entirely so, your hair is very like hers.

Vanessa:
True. What did my father look like?

Newt:
Alas, I never met Major Noone. Did your mother not show you photographs?

Vanessa:
One, I think, in his regiment. One could barely make him out.

Newt:
Of course, it wouldn't be so surprising if you did look like Gally. It would simply mean your mother had a type.

Vanessa:
[laughs] You ghastly old man! More wine?

Newt:
[laughing] Oh, please.

Narrator: 1951: London

[ocean noises]

Host:
That was "Island Atmosphere -- Waves on Shore, Moderate Wind Noise, Medium Distance Calls from Seabirds, Insect Stridulation" from the BBC sound effects library Natural Atmospheres 14. And you chose that, Patrick Nightingale, because---?

Patrick:
It depicts a desert island.

Host:
Yes. Of course, in this instance, you would in fact be on a desert island.

Patrick:
Yes.

Host:
So the sounds represented on this disc would in fact be what you were hearing in any case.

Patrick:
In that case, I simply wouldn't play the record.

Narrator: 2021: near Hastings

Russ:
Oswald, leave it.

Toby:
Oh, look! Magpies!

Alex:
Oh, yeah.

Toby:
One, two, three... four! Okay, so that's one for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy. A boy! Oh, am I getting a brother?

Russ:
Don't believe everything the magpies tell you, Toby.

Toby:
Oh, no, wait, hang on. One of them's moved away from the group now, so, so now it's a girl and sorrow. Oh, dear.

Alex:
Nah, it's okay. Look, another one's joined.

Toby:
Oh, okay. So, wait, is that... sorrow and a boy, or joy and a girl?

Russ: Oh, and two more. Maybe we should count them all together.

Toby:
I don't think the rhyme goes up to seven.

Alex:
Yes, it does.

Russ:
Oh, Alex, you're not going to do the thing from--

Alex:
Sure, I'm doing the thing; this stuff is why I have kids. So, Toby, the rhyme does go up to seven. It goes:
one for sorrow, two for joy,
three for a girl, four for a boy.
Five for silver, six for gold.
Seven for a secret never to be told.

Toby:
Oh, great. So that's--

Alex:
Eight for a wish, nine for a kiss,
ten for a chance you must not miss.

Toby:
So...

Alex:
11 for a wasp, 12 for a bee,
13 for coffee, 14 for tea.
15 for a pencil, 16 for a pen,
17 to hear these options once again.

Toby:
Is that the end?

Alex:
What do you think Toby?

Toby:
I don't think that's the end.

Russ:
It's not the end.

Alex:
18 for pepper, 19 for salt,
20 for an accident in which you weren't at fault.
21 for Jerry, 22 for Tom,
23 for where are all these magpies coming from?
25 no, seriously, 30 this is weird,
48 more magpies just spontaneously appeared.
62 stop counting them, 70 just run!
99 the revolution of the magpies has begun.
200 no more sorrows, 500 no more fears,
one thousand for how long the magpie age will last in years.

[long pause] Yeah, and so that's where people would usually applaud or whatever.

Russ:
Toby, I've wanted to keep this from you until you were older, but it's time you knew the truth. Your pa used to be in a sketch group.

Narrator: 1995: Reading

[crowd murmurs] [drinking glass clinks]

Deborah:
Thank you, ladies and gentleman, I won't keep you long. I know you're all keen to hear from the man himself. And when we do, let me remind you once again that despite his temporary communication difficulties, his mind is working as well as ever -- low bar though, some of you may feel that to be. [crowd laughs] And you know, if there is a tiny silver lining to this whole business, it's this: most of you were here 10 years ago for Dad's 50th. You might remember I did a quiz for that one? [applause and cheers] Yeah, I see some of you do. Well, a little bird told me afterwards in a German accent [Jerry laughs], that... that maybe Dad had been -- not offended, exactly -- but a little miffed by some of it. In particular the round "What Would Jerry Say Next?" [Jerry laughs], and how good we all were at it. [crowd laughs] Well, Dad, talk about turning the tables [crowd and Jerry laugh] because I can honestly say, as I now invite the man of the hour, the birthday boy, our dear old dad, to rise and say a few words, that no one in this hall knows what they will be. [Jerry laughs] [crowd laughing and applauding]

Jerry:
Gently, ladybird, here we come. I'm told and they tell me so that gently the letter unfolds her drift-wise driftwood, drift would and all that sort of thing. Gentle general. Hilla knows it and that's as well, as I say, I say it and I have said it and it's a dusky dusket or they wish it were. Only on the opposite side bear same as upward. Also, the same is true after glass or glassware, or glassware. But I don't find so under dark and I won't do, unless Hilla told me before, and there's that as well. But... here's my ultimatum, gentle bird. Heaven in a small pool. Hilla and Hilla and Hilla. Devonshire of course and all those places like that around there, and these tables I saw before, and that's the main thing God! And so to bed!

[crowd applauds]

Deborah:
Have you finished?

Jerry:
Finish it up? Yes. Finished up over there. And in the end it's a smallish pool or pool.

Deborah:
It certainly is. Thank you, Dad, for those few, well chosen words. [Jerry laughs] If Devonshire was me, I got off lightly. Half the time I'm "Devil" these days. [crowd laughs]

Jerry:
Devil take the Hapsburgs! [laughs]

Deborah:
Yep, sure, why not. But, uh Dad, I think you were going to propose a toast?

Jerry:
Oh, yes, yes! To glassware!

Crowd:
To glassware!

Narrator: 1941: Grand Union Canal

[engine noises]

Vanessa:
I say, what's the holdup?

Horse driver:
Stuck horse.

Vanessa:
Stuck?

Queenie:
Vanessa, don't! Don't you see, we can have tea and no one can blame us.

Vanessa:
How do you mean stuck?

Horse driver:
How'd you think I mean? Stuck! Won't go!

Vanessa:
Then he must be made to move. There's boats waiting.

Horse driver:
If you know how, my girl, you tell me. I've tried him with hittin'. I've tried him with fodder. He's bigger nor I am. If he says he stops, he stops.

Vanessa:
Have you blindfolded him?

Horse driver:
Blindfolded him?? Oh yeah, first thing I did, that was. Blind man's bluff, we've played grandmother's footsteps, a rare old time we've had.

Vanessa:
Very satirical. Nonetheless if you want your horse to move, try blindfolding him.

Horse driver:
I'm not playing silly buggers with that horse. If you wanna blindfold him, you be my guest.

Vanessa:
How frightfully kind. I shall. Hello, nice horse. Don't mind this.

Horse driver:
If he does move now, it's only because he's had his bit of rest.

Vanessa:
Oh, naturally. That's entirely understood. Come on, then, chap. On we go. Oh look at that, he has had his bit of rest, just as you said. All the same I should keep the scarf on him for a while if I were you. You can give it back to me when you loose us by at the next lock.

Horse driver:
Loose you by? What's all this about loosing you by?

Vanessa:
Naturally you'll want to loose us by.

Horse driver:
Well, I never said I wouldn't.

Vanessa:
No one said that. Queenie, untie, you idle beast, we're away!

Narrator: 1915: Crewe

[knock on door] [door opens]

Susanna:
Ah. Mr. Noone, I presume.

Newt:
[laughs] Mrs. Noone. How do you do?

Susanna:
How do you do. Do come in.

Newt:
Well, this is...

Susanna:
Ghastly.

Newt:
[laughs] Yes! Uh, the room, I meant.

Susanna:
Oh, yes. So did I. The whole hotel, really.

Newt:
Yes.

Susanna:
Well... look here. Thanks most awfully for filling in.

Newt:
No. No, no, no. All in a good cause.

Susanna:
And, um, I'm terribly sorry about... breaking your duck.

Newt:
Ha! Well, no, um. Trying anything once, eh?

Susanna:
Rather. Although, you're aware, I suppose, that repeat applications may be necessary.

Newt:
What? No! Why?

Susanna:
It doesn't always... take immediately.

Newt:
Ah.

Susanna:
It may, of course.

Newt:
Well, let's hope so. If that's not--

Susanna:
No, heavens, no. I feel the same way. So!

Newt:
Yes. Uh, your, if I may ask, um -- under the circumstances, I think I probably may -- your, your duck, also? In this version of the game, I mean?

Susanna:
Um, no, in fact.

Newt:
Oh, good! At least one of us will know what we're about.

Susanna:
Yeah, well, scarcely, but yes. Now. Uh, Gally, bless her heart, gave me her hip flask. Would you... care to?

Newt:
Oh, ah, most kind, but I, I don't drink.

Susanna:
I know, but I just thought, rather a day for doing things you don't do?

Newt:
[laughs] Yes. Yes, I do see what you mean. Um. Thank you. Uh, chin chin.

Susanna:
Mud in your eye.

Newt:
[coughs violently] Oh! Oh, that's ghastly!

Susanna:
Oh, I'm so sorry. [Newt continues coughing] I should have said to sip.

Newt:
Oh that is absolutely the most foul thing!

Susanna:
[through laughter] That doesn't bode awfully well, does it? [both laughing]

Newt:
[through laughter] No, I don't suppose it does. [both continue laughing]

Narrator: 1915: York

Gally:
I have a favour to ask.

Newt:
When do you not?

Gally:
No, but. This is rather different, rather an enormous favour. You see, Basil's been called up.

Newt:
Oh? Who's Basil?

Gally:
Basil Noone. Susanna's husband.

Newt:
Oh. Oh, has he indeed?

Gally:
Yes.

Newt:
Well. Good for old Basil.

Gally:
I, I didn't mean-- I know you would go if you could.

Newt:
Yes.

Gally:
But of course you can't.

Newt:
No.

Gally:
Because of your flat feet.

Newt:
Yes.

Gally:
Of course you have to remember I've seen your feet. They're not in the least bit flat.

Newt:
No. So perhaps I'm a coward.

Gally:
Yes but then, you're not. Not to speak of. So I thought perhaps something else must have happened at your medical.

Newt:
There was a... misunderstanding.

Gally:
Was there? Or an understanding?

Newt:
No. A misunderstanding. I think perhaps the same misunderstanding you're making right now.

Gally:
Oh! Then... I thought perhaps we shared a family failing.

Newt:
Why have you asked--

Gally:
Because after all, you know, you've never been much of a one for the girls.

Newt:
No! Look. Since you-- since you insist upon asking me, Gally, I, I don't have the least use for the whole silly business.

Gally:
Ah.

Newt:
Leaves me entirely cold.

Gally:
You've tried it then.

Newt:
Never. And I never shall.

Gally:
Oh.

Newt:
What?

Gally:
Well, this is why I'm being so beastly nosy, if you were wondering.

Newt:
I was wondering, in fact, yes, quite strongly.

Gally:
The favour I mentioned.

Newt:
Oh, the big favour.

Gally:
Super colossal giganto enormo.

Newt:
Well?

Gally:
Well, as I say, Major Noone's going to the war.

Newt:
Yes, I hope he has a nice day for it.

Gally:
And Susanna's had a sort of... premonition that he won't come back.

Newt:
Ah. Yes, I see. Leaving Susanna a respectable widow.

Gally:
Yes. Tragic, of course.

Newt:
Oh, terribly tragic.

Gally:
Especially if... if before he went, Susanna was expecting.

Newt:
Oh, Gally.

Gally:
You see what I mean about the last word in favours?

Newt:
I don't think I could, Gally, I'm sorry. I just--

Gally:
No, no, that's quite all right. I didn't quite understand, you see, about your position. I thought it was more analogous to ours.

Newt:
After all, you know, there are... there are other ways of achieving the same effect.

Gally:
Oh, yes. And doubtless we'll find one. It's only... Well, the kid can't be mine, of course. But this way, it would have been the closest possible thing.

Newt:
Oh, I see.

Gally:
But, but really, I understand.

Newt:
Um, what would I be to the kid afterwards? Growing up, I mean.

Gally:
Oh, nothing, nothing at all. Poor thing's father died in the war, you see, and their mother's old pal rallied round and helped bring them up. You don't enter the picture. You need never even see them.

Newt:
Oh, I shouldn't mind seeing them.

Gally:
Oh! Well, uncle, then, if you like. Honorary uncle.

Newt:
I have always thought I'd make rather a decent uncle.

Gally:
And I don't suppose you ever thought you'd get the chance.

Newt:
No, I did not. And um... the practicalities?

Gally:
Ah. Well, do you know Crewe?

Narrator: 1951: London

[By the Sleepy Lagoon plays]

Host:
"By the Sleepy Lagoon" by Eric Coates, played there by the BBC Light Orchestra, conducted by Sir Henry Wood. And from memory, Mr. Nightingale, I believe you have the distinction of being the first of our castaways to select that... familiar track.

Patrick:
Indeed?

Host:
I think so, yes. No need to ask you why, of course.

Patrick:
No.

Host:
No, it fits very neatly into your theme.

Patrick:
Yes.

Host:
Now if you could only take one of these eight records, which would it be?

Patrick:
I think "Island Atmosphere".

Host:
The sound effect track!?

Patrick:
Yes.

Host:
The one you said you wouldn't play?

Patrick:
Yes.

Host:
And why is that?

Patrick:
Having heard them all today, I should say that is the one which most accurately depicts a desert island.

Host:
Very well. And we allow you one luxury to take with you to the island. What would it be?

Patrick:
A luxury?

Host:
Yes, anything at all, so long as it is of no practical use whatsoever.

Patrick:
No, thank you.

Host:
Nothing?

Patrick:
I think not. I'm not a luxurious person.

Host:
Very well. Lastly, we give you the Bible and Shakespeare, and we offer you the opportunity to select one further book besides, but perhaps you'd rather not.

Patrick:
Oh, yes! I should like "The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle" by Beatrix Potter.

Host:
Oh, by all means! And why is that?

Patrick:
Because it is my favourite.

[long pause]

Host:
Then you shall have it. Patrick Nightingale, thank you.

Patrick:
Yes.

Narrator: 1988: Nottingham

Newt:
Hello. Um, do you mind if I ride in the front seat? Thank you. I find it rather easier to get into for some reason. [car door shuts] Oh! Hello, Vanessa, my dear.

Vanessa:
Uncle Newt! Hello, darling. They corralled you, too, did they?

Newt:
Yes. Yes. I think the scheme is to get the eldest and weakest members of the herd over there first, and let the younger follow as they may. Oh, not that you're old, of course.

Vanessa:
Well, not compared to you, my dear, but then who is?

Newt:
[laughs] Oh, how are your eyes?

Vanessa:
Oh, it's a revelation. Suddenly I can see colour again. Especially blues. I'd forgotten just how blue blue is. It's really, awfully blue.

Newt:
Well you know, I know exactly what you mean -- it was the same for me when I finally got my hearing aids. It turns out all this time the birds have been singing everywhere!

[car door opens]

Newt and Vanessa:
Jerry!

Jerry:
Hello, Mum. Uncle Newt! Room for a little one?

Newt:
Oh, of course! But oughtn't you to go with the bride?

Jerry:
No, Myra's feeling a little overwhelmed, so she and Hilla are putting together what-- what they call a quiet cab. And it was thought that perhaps I--

Vanessa:
Yes, we fully understand, dear.

Newt:
All ready for your speech, Jerry?

Jerry:
Oh, yes, indeed. I half thought of starting with a little poem?

Vanessa:
You amaze us.

[door opens]

Jerry:
Ah, Deborah! Hello, Russ.

Russ:
Grandad!

Deborah:
Hi, Gran. Hi, Uncle Newt.

Newt:
Oh, I think that's everybody.

[engine starts up]

Vanessa:
Your father was just asking us if he should do a poem in his speech.

Deborah:
Why?

Jerry:
Well, I thought it might be nice.

Deborah:
No, I mean, why were you asking? Of course you're going to do one. You always do one. I still haven't forgiven you for mine.

Jerry:
Oh, that was entirely your own fault, Deb, really. Anyone who chooses to wear a black and white striped wedding dress whilst knowing full well her name rhymes with zebra. [laughter]

Newt:
Very pleasant service, I thought.

Vanessa:
Yes indeed. Although one rather felt for that poor registrar, having to conduct a wedding so soon after her own divorce.

Deborah:
Oh, I thought widowed.

Vanessa:
Really? From the biro marks?

Deborah:
No, from the reading glasses.

Vanessa:
Oh! Yes, I see. Yes, quite right.

Russ:
Mummy, I don't feel very well.

Deborah:
Oh, Russ, really?

Russ:
Mm really.

Newt:
Ought we to stop?

Deborah:
Oh, Myra'll kill me if I make Dad late. Uh, Russ, darling, how not very well? "Connaught Park" not very well, or... "Alton Towers" not very well.

Russ:
Connaught Park.

Deborah:
Okay. [whispers] That's the good answer.

Jerry:
Ugh, I should hope so. I was there for Alton Towers.

Deborah:
Okay, so we're going to look out the window, aren't we? And we're going to think about something else.

Russ:
Okay, Mummy.

Vanessa:
Deborah, we always used to find drawing circles on Jerry's tummy helps.

Jerry:
I mean, you're welcome to try, Mum, but I don't see what good it will do Russ.

Vanessa:
Oh, Jerry, don't be an ass.

Jerry:
You can't fight genetics.

Newt:
Would he care to borrow my hat?

Deborah:
Oh... no thank you, Uncle Newt, but I'm sure it won't come to that.

Jerry:
Perhaps. Pass it back anyway, though, Uncle. Speaking as a veteran of Alton Towers.

Deborah:
We just need to keep him distracted. Uh, can someone tell him a story?

Deborah, Jerry, and Vanessa:
Uncle Newt?

Newt:
Oh, well, gladly. I, I don't know how well he can hear me back there.

Jerry:
Oh, no, let's all do it. One word at a time, like a game. You start, Uncle.

Newt:
Oh, all right. Um... Since--

Vanessa:
you--

Jerry:
came--

Deborah:
along--

Newt:
my--

Vanessa:
word--

Jerry:
"Word", mum?

Vanessa:
Yes, "my word". "Since you came along, my word, things have hotted up" or whatever.

Russ:
Oh, Mummy, it's more than Connaught Park now.

Deborah:
Oh, poor darling. Okay, let's stop, let's stop.

Newt:
Oh, I don't think he can stop here.

Deborah:
Uh then let's do something else. Sing him a song.

Jerry:
Oo, yes. What do we all know? "Yellow Submarine".

Newt:
I, I don't know that.

Jerry:
Oh. Well, uh, "Knees up Mother Brown".

Newt:
Oh, yes!

Deborah:
I don't know that.

Jerry:
Oh for heaven's sake. There must be something...

Vanessa:
Uh, "Woof Woof Woof"?

Jerry:
Oh, yes, of course! Ah, alright, Wilkos -- and associated tribes. Two, three, four!

All adults:
[singing] Woof woof woof goes the wolfhound,
Arf arf arf barks the chow,
the bloodhound howls ow ow ow,
the big borzoi replies bow wow.

[outro music]
John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme was written and performed by John Finnemore, with Margaret Cabourn-Smith, Simon Kane, Lawry Lewin, and Carrie Quinlan. The producer was Ed Morrish and it was a BBC Studios production.

All adults:
[singing] The big borzoi replies bow wow!

Vanessa:
Oh, dear. Poor Russ.

Jerry:
Do you feel better now, anyway?

Russ:
Yes, thank you, Granddad.

Deborah:
I'm really sorry, Uncle Newt.

Newt:
Oh, not at all, my dear. It was a very old hat.