Season 2 Episode 4 - Never say Alan again

Alan is in the studio, looking comatozed listening to a song:
Alan: That was Norwich-based singer-songwriter Christian Le Vaux, with a self-penned song entitled “I Loved You, But You Left Me”. Apparently he can’t get a record deal. There’s no justice, Christian… Le Vaux. Oh, it’s the bank holiday weekend. A terrible time for the lonely. Which, I think, Christian testifies to on his second track “Lonely… ‘Cause You Left Me”. Tonight, we’re think-abouting which celebrity you would like to spend a bank holiday with, and what would you do. Sue from Paston says she’d like to sit down with  some hotpot and red cabbage, and watch “Chitty Chitty Bang Bang” with Sting. And er, T. Gladden  emails  to say  he’d like to clear out the attic, with the lovely Kate Winslet.  OK, on the line, we have, if I’m not mistaken, Roy from Caister St Edmund. Roy, Hello.
Roy: Hello?
Alan: It’s bank holiday, what  ya doin’? Who’s with ya?
Roy: I’d like to go round Legoland with Sean Connery, and then afterwards we’d go for a lovely lamb lunch, in the centre of Windsor.
Alan: Gotta say, Roy. I don’t think that’s Connery’s cup of tea. I think Sean would rather, do something like, wander round the wildfowl park in Pepperstock, with a [Scottish accent] bottle of Scotch!
Roy: I don’t agree. He’d go to Legoland. Bye. [Hangs up]
Alan: Sorry. Music. Hide the steak, it’s Chrissie Hynde.
Alan: That was moving rabbit classic “Bright Eyes”. Another cheeky chappie who’s starring into the abyss of having to spend three days with himself, the insomniac’s boyfriend, David Clifton.
Dave: Yeah, good evening to you, Alan. Actually, do you know what, I’m not so sure about that, Alan. Because I’m going to be seeing a friend at the weekend.
Alan: Uh-oh! Johnnie Walker or Jack Daniels?
Dave: No.
Alan: Glenmorangie?
Dave: No. I’m going to be seeing Tony Hadley from Spandau Ballet.
Alan: Rubbish!
Dave: Oh, yeah. I’m actually doing an archery weekend with him.
Alan: Really?
Dave: Yeah, yeah. We both do archery. I’m a grade three, at the moment. I’m hoping, fingers crossed, to get mygrade four there, this weekend.
Alan: How do you… how do you…Who?… Can I…
Dave: So er, what are you doing this weekend then, Alan?
Alan: I’m watching all the Bond films, back to back, with my friend Michael.
Dave: Oh, what, the guy who works at the BP garage?
Alan: I know where he works.
Dave: OK, there goes Alan Partridge, licensed to kill… time, in his caravan by watching videos.
Alan: Good one, good one. Arrows are deceitful. When a cowboy fires a gun, there’s a bang, it’s a warning. Gives you a chance to duck. When a cowboy has an arrow fired at him, he hears nothing. If he’s lucky, it sticks in his hat, and he just looks daft. But more often that not, it sticks in his back, and he dies slumping forward on the horse that rides off with him, just on top of him, going like that [Impersonates a dead cowboy on top of a horse]
Dave: Yeah, OK. Bye, Alan. See you later.
Alan: And, also, archers. I hate archers, “The Archers” and Jeffrey Archer. You’re all deceitful cowards. I just realized then, that only applies to archers and Jeffrey Archer. But not “The Archers”,  who… to be fair, are a mixed bag. Goodbye.
Dave: OK. And what are we doing to the planet? Well, it’s “Purple Rain”.
Alan is at BP garage to chat to Michael, when he realizes Michael talks to other men:
Alan [Jumping in through the door, prentending to hold a gun]: Bang! I’m James Bond.
Michael: Got us right in the neck.
Alan: You can survive that, if it doesn’t sever the spinal column.
Michael: Aye. Mind you, I wouldn’t be able to talk. I’d just gan “uh uh uh uh”, like that. Hey, I love the gadgets. It’s like: Pay attention, Bond. Simply remove the top off this pen, jab it into somebody’s eye, and smash it in with your hand like that.
Alan: That’s not a gadget, Michael. That’s just monrtous use of a biro.
Tex [Liverpudlian accent]: Check it out there’s an advert for it.
Michael: Hey, Truckfest! Hey look, it’s coming to Ipswich. Whoa! David Soul’s gonna be there.
Tex: Yeah [Michael and Tex honk] Hey imagine that, eh Mike. Driving across the States on one of them roads, Route 66. Sleeping in motels.
Michael: Aye, just gan into a shop and buy a gun. [Michael and Tex honk again]
Alan: They’re actually left-hand drive, those lorries. So if you are doing that,  you’d just be grabbing photographs of your family. Or perhaps, rosary beads, if you were driving up from Mexico.
Tex: Er, Mike. Do you want to serve this guy?
Michael: Oh, no. It’s all right. He’s a friend and all.
Tex: Oh, all right. The name’s Tex.
Alan: Text?
Tex: No. Tex. Like er, short for Terry, you know, like Texas and that.
Michael: He likes American stuff.
Alan [Not impressed]: Oh.
Michael: Alan likes James Bond.
Tex: Ah, you’re a Bond guy are ya? My man’s gotta be Wayne.
Alan: What, Wayne Sleep? It’s just, the jacket and the boots.
Tex: No. Wayne. [Impersonates John Wayne] “Get off your horse and drink your milk.”
Alan: Yeah, yeah, Wayne Sleep.
Tex: Hey, Mike. I’m just gonna grab a Dr Pepper from the cooler. Stick it on me tab.
Alan: Yeah, Michael. I’m just going to get a Ginster’s from the fridge. Put is on the slate.
Tex: Yeah, Mike. I can’t wait to get back to the States.
Alan: Yeah, I used to hang around the States.
Tex: Where did you get to?
Alan: Florida mainly… A fortnight in Florida. Yeah, good days.
Tex: Florida, eh? Walt Disney. Now there’s a guy who lived the American dream. Built a huge empire.
Alan: Yeah, I thought he just drew pictures of mice. I prefer David Attenborough. At least he’s more honest. He interviews real mice.
Tex: Anyway. I’m gonna hit the road. Check you later, Mike.
Michael: Check you later. [Michael and Tex honk]
Tex to Alan: Nice to meet you, Colin.
Alan: Colin?
Alan discusses with Michael about all the men he talks to in the garage:
Alan: Walt Disney! Animals never wore clothes.
Michael: Hang on, hang on [Waiting for Tex’s truck horn to honk] There he goes.
Alan: Is that his pickup truck?
Michael: Aye, he calls it Convoy.
Alan: Convoy? Michael, you’re hanging around with a man who uses  a collective term for a single vehicle.
Michael: He just likes American things.
Alan: What, like Dr Pepper?
Michael: Aye.
Alan: It tastes like fizzy Benylin. So, how long’s “Like A Rhinestone Cowboy” been coming in here?
Michael: Well, about 18 month… Two year. Aye, two year.
Alan: Do you chat to any other men?
Michael: Aye. Including you, four regulars, like.
Alan: Michael, what the hell’s going on?
Michael: Well, it’s just, you know, men who want someone to talk to. They’re just lonely. Look, I cannot not talk to the customers, man. Look, what does it say on me badge “Michael, I’m here to help.”
Alan: No it doesn’t, it just says “Michael”.
Michael: Oh, aye. It does.
Alan: Why did you think it said the rest?
Michael: I don’t know. I must have dreamt it. So, anyway, hey. Bond weekend. Me and you.
Alan: I don’t remember inviting you to the Bond weekend, Michael. I think what you’ve done is you’ve put two and two together, and you’ve made five. Or, as the Americans say “Fi-i-ive”
Michael: Do you want that Kit Kat?
Alan: No.
Michael: You’ll have to pay for that.
Alan: Put it on the slate. No, actually, I’ll eat it.
Alan is back home, prouncing around his unbuilt house like a spy:
John: All right, Al?
Alan: Aagh! What are you doing here? It’s a bank holiday.
John: Well, I had to come in and do those dodgy floor joists, didn’t I? What was that you were doing just then?
Alan: I was just walking through my house… In the style of James Bond.
John: Oh. That was quite good. I think you’ll make a good James Bond.
Alan: Do you really think so?
John: I like that “Goldfinger”. That bit wher the laser beam’s going up his Jaffas.
Alan: We should talk more, you know. I’ve got lots of subjects I’d love to chat about. I used to chat to another bloke about them, but he likes American things now. What do you think of American things?
John: They’re a bit full of themselves.
Alan: Abso-bloody-exactly!
John: Not my cup of tea.
Alan: Actually, we could do a Bond film. I could be Bond and you could be my stunt man. Because you’ve got a good physique.
John: Yeah, well I don’t like to get too big. You know. It’s your pec muscles you’ve got to start off with. Got to sort out your pecs, do your bench presses. Here, have a prod of that.
Alan [Prodding John’s pecs]: Yeah, very firm. Mine are more or less the same, they’re just fractionally more flaccid. Apart from that, I’ve got a smooth chest with a ring of hairs round each nipple. And a think line that sort of builds towards the usual place. Bye.
Alan is with Sonja in the static home, planning his Bond weekend:
Alan: Right, Sonja. Let’s sort this timetable out. 9am, “Doctor No”. Break for a pee. I need at least three minutes to urinate. Seems to take forever these days. I never thought, when I was in my 20’s I’d have to push.
Sonja: Next?
Alan: 11:05, “From Russia With Love”. 1:15, “Goldfinger”. Strawberry Nesquilk, fishcakes. 3:35, “Thunderball”. Dump. Put question mark. See how I feel after the fishcakes.
Sonja: How long?
Alan: Twenty minutes. We’ll allow for complications. 6:15, “You Only Live Twice”. Tin of Director’s. 8:20, “Diamonds Are Forever”. Put the roast on as soon as you see the moon buggy.
Sonja: You are very brilliant. This is a clever schedule.
Alan: Thank you. I love you, in a way.  You could be a Bond femme fatale with your broken English. You’re sexy, but I don’t trust you.
Sonja: James Bond doesn’t live in a caravan.
Alan: No, but this could very easily be a compact Swiss chalet. About to be stormed by 15 bad bastards in boiler suits.
Lynn: Hello. [Alan turns around and Lynn pretends to fire a gun] Bang-bang! Bang Bang!
Alan: You look like you quite enjoyed that.
Lynn: [Mimicking a machine gun noise]
Alan: Was that a snub-nosed Uzi?
Lynn: Yes, I think it was.
Alan: You’re in a remarkably cheerful mood considering it’s the first anniversary of your mother’s death.
Lynn: Well, life goes on.
Sonja: Can we finish writing the Bond schedule?
Lynn: You’ve made allowances for the visit to my mother’s grave?
Alan: Yes, that’s in the schedule. Visit to your mother’s grave, then “Doctor No”. The underground base of an evil genius… and then “Doctor No”!
Sonja: If you make him take you to grave, then we’ll be late for film, and all work we did will be destroyed.
Lynn: Can’t you cut one of the less important films?
Alan: Whoa! Whoa! Whoa-whoa! Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa! Which are the less important Bond films, Lynn? I’ve got to hear this.
Lynn: One of those Welsh ones.
Alan: Do you mean the Timothy Dalton ones? He didn’t play it as a Welshman. He didn’t say, “The name’s Bond. Jones the Bond. Double O th-even. Licensed to kill-ch!”. Lynn, are you wearing perfume?
Lynn: Yes.
Alan: For a corpse?
Lynn: No. I’m going to have lunch at TGI Friday’s with Gordon
Alan: What, the retired policeman who’s not a con man?
Lynn: Yes.
Alan: Well, you can have Death By Chocolate while he rifles through your building society book. Right, spectacles, driving gloves, phone, wallet, keys. Sonja, did you get the piccalilli?
Sonja: Yes.
Alan: Chunky?
Sonja: Yes.
Alan: Excellent, let’s go to the graveyard.
Alan and Lynn are at the graveyard:
Alan: Graveyards are so depressing. They remind me of death. There’s a grave over there that I saw, that’s of a man who died in 1872, and he was only three.
Lynn: Snazzy headstone there.
Alan: Yeah. That’s one of those 80’s ones. Black granite. It’s a waste, really. Because if you sliced that three-wise, and laid it end to end, you’d have the lions share of the work surface for a Poggenpohl kitchen. In fact, I bet a lot of these gravestones go missing. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up as the work surfaces in luxury kitchens. They’d have to turn them upside down, of course, so that it didn’t reveal the details of the dead, in recessed lettering. Which would also collect crumbs. Lynn, the anniversary of a dead mum is always a tough one. But I am up against it with this James Bondathon. So if you could limit your morning to [German accent] no more than ten minutes! I’m trying to lighten the mood with a nazi voice.
Lynn: Well, you don’t need to lighten the mood, Alan. I am not down.
Alan: You’ve got ten minutes. Go give it to her.
Alan is back home with Lynn, and gets to meet Gordon:
Lynn: That’s the first year over.
Alan: Yeah, she’s probably up there in heaven right now complaining about, what did she used to call them, “brown people”?. I’ll give her this, Lynn. She stuck to her guns with all that, right to the end. Even on the last day. The way she looked at that nurse. God rest her racist soul. She’ll be horrified. I mean, Jesus was from the Middle East.
Lynn: Was he? Jesus wasn’t brown.
Alan: Lynn, let’s not have that discussion now.
Gordon: Can I come in?
Alan: Sorry, we don’t need our drive tarmacking, thank you very much.
Lynn: This is Gordon.
Alan: Oh, sorry. I thought you were a tinker with tarmac.
Gordon: Nice to meet you.
Alan: And you. Well, there’s Lynn. Look after her. And make sure she’s back here by ten o’clock, and don’t get her pregnant! I believe you’re quite keen on the Bible?
Gordon: I live by it.
Alan: I was reading the book of Genesis the other day. I’ve got to say, that bloody snake.
Gordon: Do you suppose you’ll be prone to temptation, like Adam?
Alan: I think I’d be more preoccupied by the fact that I was encountering a talking snake. I think, whether I wanted an apple or not would be a side issue. Even if it wasn’t a talking snake, even if it just rolled an apple towards me and sort of went… [nodding] …I think I’d still be troubled. After that, I think I’d just put some trunks on, and sit down on the grass.
Lynn: Well, we’ll be off then.
Alan: Great.
Gordon: Well, I’m glad we’re on our own, Alan. I’ve been wanting a word with you, about Lynn. I don’t like the way you treat her.
Alan: Oh.
Gordon: I think you’re a bully. And if you don’t start treating her better, I’m gonna knock your block off. Do I make myself clear?
Alan [sheepish]: Yeah.
Gordon: Do I make myself clear?
Alan: Yeah… Yes.
Gordon: Keep the thought there.
Alan: Aagh! Sorry, I thought you were going ot attack me with your finger.
Gordon: I know when I’m being lied to, you know. I spent a lot of my life being lied to.
Alan: With respect, as an ex-police officer, if you hang around with criminals, you’re gonna get lied to.
Gordon: Think on.
Alan: I’m thinking on. I’m thinking on.
Alan is back in the static home sorting through his Bond collection:
Alan: “Let Die”, “Golden”, “Raker”, “Eyes Only”, “Pussy”, “Daylights”, “Nutty Professor II: The Klumps”, what’s this doing here?
Sonja: I got it for 90p’s in a brilliant charity shop called Scope.
Alan: Scope?  Why do they change the name and ruin it? Consignia and Scope. It’s the Post Office and the Spastic Society. Oh… butter my arse! I’ve just realised. We haven’t got “The Spy Who Loved Me”. I’ve just remembered, I lent it to that bloke who I used to chat to at the petrol station.
Sonja: Michael?
Alan: Was that his name? I’m gonna have to go and get it off him.
John: Hello? [Alan turns around and does karate kick] I reckon I can do a bit of that Bond stuff.
Alan: Yeah. Unfortunately though, I don’t think society’s ready for “View T’Kill”. “Eeeh, Octopussy”.
John: “Doctor Nowt”
Alan: Lovely stuff. Listen, I’ve just cracked open a bottle of Sunny Delight, they’re quite big, and I can’t manage a whole one. Fancy a shot?
John: No thanks. I’ve got to go off to the timber yard.
Alan: I’ll take you. Just grab a couple of straw, no problem. We can stop off at the petrol station on the way.
John: How is your Geordie mate?
Alan: Well, you’ve got to ask yourself some serious questions about a man who sits in a petrol station all day, talking to other men.
Alan and John head to the timber yard, but first they pop into the BP garage:
Alan: Have a look round, John. See if there’s anything you fancy. I’ll treat you.
John: Cheers.
Alan to Michael: Has the Duke of Hazzard been in?
Michael: Er, no, he’s not.
Alan: I’d like you to return my “Spy Who Loved Me” video, and any other property that you have of mine.
Michael: I haven’t got it here, it’s at home.
Alan: Where, in America?
Michael: No, in Lithow Street.
Alan: This is my friend, John. John, don’t be shy. Come out. Show him your tool belt.
Michael: Oh, smart.
Alan: Yeah. It’s interesting, Michael, this obsession you have with American things. And yet you work for British Petroleum. I mean, hello?
Michael: Hello?
Alan: No, it’s a thing people say!
Michael: So, do you want any petrol?
Alan: No, I’m going to be getting it from across the road from now on. Your petrol’s a bit obvious… It’s a bit petrolly. Come on, John. Let’s saddle our horses and get ourselves a curly Cumberland sausage form the Little-biddy Chef. Little Chef.
Michael: Oh, hey. I taped that documentary for ya “The World’s Worst Storms”. Hey, there’s footage of a tsunami, and it comes in and it crashes doon on this village and wipes them all oot.
Alan: Programmes about storms? Get a life! Come on, John. Let’s go to Sprowston.
Alan is back in the static home, where Sonja, Lynn and Gordon are stting on the bonk-ette:
Alan: Oh, hello, Lynn. What are you doing here? A wonderful woman like you should be at home relaxing.
Lynn: You asked me to get you a black marker pen.
Alan: Oh. Thanks. In fact I’ll give you a raise. Eight and a half thousand? Ni… Nine? Nine and a half. Te… Te… Tell you what. Tell you what. It’s nine and half thousand pounds. Let’s all sing it. Tell you what, tell you what. It’s nine and a half thousand pounds.
Lynn: Thank you, Alan.
Alan: “Mrs Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?”.
Lynn: Sonja, why don’t we get some juice, while the men set the world to rights.
Gordon: Still watching you, Alan.
Alan: Yeah, I know. And I’m thinking about it in my block, that you may knock off.
John: That cement’s dried now, Al. So I’ll be off.
Alan: Ah, no, wait. Will you stay and watch a Bond film, please?
John: I can’t, Al. I’ve got too much to do.
Alan: Listen, I have been physically threatened by an ex-fuzz. If you hang around, I will pay you. How much is a monkey?
John: 500
Alan: How much is a mouse?
John: There’s no such amount. Pony’s 150.
Alan: Right, I’ll give you 200. That’s a pony and a bag of hooves.
John: Done.
Alan: Great.
Lynn: I got Sunny Delight…
Alan: Don’t kiss me again [Lynn slips and pours two jugs of Sunny Delight all over Alan’s Bond collection] Aaaaaagh!
Lynn: Alan, I’ve spilt Sunny Delight all over your James Bond videos.
Alan: Lynn, you… [Gordon stands up] … shouldn’t worry about it.
Lynn: Are they repairable?
Alan: I’ll just check them [Bends over and picks the box up and moves it around a bit]  Yeah. They’re ruined. Excuse me. [Walks over to the kitchen and picks up a load of cereals boxes] I’ll just be a minute. [Walks outside and starts beating his cereals with a hammer] Mrs Moneypenny’s an eejit! She’s an eejit!
Alan: Hello, Michael.
Michael: What are ya dee-in’?
Alan: Just destroying my cereals.
Michael: Careful. Folk might say you’re a cereal killer! Here’s ya tape “The Spy Who Loved Me” and all you other stuff.
Alan: Can we make friends? I know said all that stuff…
Michael: No, no. Pffff!
Alan: Pffff!
Michael: Pffff! [then spits]
Alan: Pfff! [then spits] Come on, let’s go and watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”!
Michael: Oh, er. It’s a bit difficult  ‘cause… [Tex’s horn honks in the background] We were just gonna drive roond and blow the horn.
Alan: Michael, you could have blown the horn in my Lexus. All you had to do was ask. You could have sat in the passenger seat and reached across. It’s not on the end of a stalk, it’s on the central steering wheel boss behind the air bag.
Michael: Ah, well ye see. It’s precision engineering, eh? It’s like what you always say, it’s the Japanese Mercedes, eh.
Alan: God, I’ve missed you.
Michael: I’ve missed you an’ all, man. You know, I really have. I just…
Alan: Hi, Tex. We’re having a hoedown. I’m down, but I’m not a ho.
Tex: D’you know there’s a load of Frosties on your step?
Alan: Yes, I know. I’ve just been destroying my cereals. Got a problem with that? You’re welcome to come and watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”, with us.
Tex: Well, thanks very much, but me and Mike are getting of to the Truckfest. [To Michael] We’d better er…
Alan: He’s staying with me.
Michael to Tex: We could see it at Skegness. Timmy Mallet’s gonna be there. It won’t be as good, but.
Tex: All right!
Alan: Great. Fine. Fantastic.
Tex: Thanks very much.
Alan: Let’s watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”! [Sonja, Tex and Michael talk amongst themselves] Stop talking about American things and let’s watch the best film ever made.
Everyone is settled to watch “The Spy Who Loved Me”:
TV: Welcome to “America’s Strongest Man”, where the toughest, mightiest titans…
Alan: Have you taped over “The Spy Who Loved Me” with “ America’s Strongest Man”?
Michael: No, I haven’t. It was Terry, I gave him the tape. He’s done it, it’s his fault.
Tex: I’m really sorry. I really wanted to see the “America’s Strongest Man”.
Alan: Well, now you’ve got “Norfolk’s Maddest Man”! I wanted to watch Roger Moore necking with Fiona Fullerton. And instead, I have to watch a giant Michael Bolton lookalike, in a tight vest, throwing an oven over bales of hay!
Sonja: “The Spy Who Loved Me” is a brilliant film. It begin in forest in Germany…
Alan: It’s Austria! Austria!
John: What’s the one where the laser beam goes up his Jaffas?
Alan: “Goldfinger”!
Michael: What’s the one with the volcano, and it splits up and a big rocket comes oot, and there’s all Chinkies jumping doon?
Tex: Isn’t that “Thunderball”?
Alan: No, no, no! Stop getting Bond wrong! I’ll tell you about “The Spy Who Loved Me”. All do that [holds finger in a circle shape over one eye] with your fingers round your eye. I’m Roger Moore. Bang! Blood dribbles down. We’re on a submarine. Two sailors sit down and have a game of chess. And the cups start wobbling. And then a man that used to be in “The Onedin Line” come in and goes, “Why are all the cups wobbling, what’s going on?” [Michael indicates if he can take his hand away from his eye] Yeah, you can stop doing that now. And Then he pulls down the periscope and he looks through it and goes “Oh, my god. The submarine’s being eaten by a giant tanker”. And then we cut to Moscow. And there’s man there, he’s Russian – he’s got eyebrows, you know. He’s on the phone going “What? A whole submarine? You’re joking?. I’m gonna have to tell some other Russians, see ya!”. And then it cuts to James – Roger Moore – and yes, he’s with a lady. He’s necking with her. And he goes “I’ve got to go, love. Something’s come up!”…
Michael: Aye! He means his cock!
Alan: Anyway, then he puts on his underpants and his ski suit, and he gets on his ski’s and starts skiing. And he’s being chased by these Russian shits in black jumpsuits with lemon piping. And he’s skiing along, and they start shooting at him and he goes “I’ve had enough of that, just stop it!”. And he turns round with his gun, then he does a backward somersault off this ramp and he lands on his feet. I’m not sure why. But, he’s not showing off. And then he goes over a cliff and he’s falling, and you think, “God, James Bond’s going to die! He’s going to die!”. But then, at the last minute…
Michael: He pulls a rip-cord, right. And a parachute comes oot, and it’s got a Union Jack…
Alan: Michael! Michael!
Michael: But that’s how it ends.
Alan: That’s not the end of the beginning. The end of the beginning goes like this. Glang glanga-langa langa langa langa lang. Glang-alang glang-alang alang. [Sings the theme to “The Spy Who Loved Me”]Nobody does it, better… And I’m a naked woman in silhouette with a gun, spinning round. Makes me feel sad for the rest. Nobody does it… Oh, bit of nipple. Quite as good as you, baby you’re the best. And now a really big bounce, right over, and I land on my feet. I wasn’t looking and somehow you found me… Ooh, bit of bush! I tried to hide from your love life… And a woman swinging on a Luger. A giant Luger. Ooh! Look at that. Like heaven above me… And now another naked woman, walking along the top of a gun, completely billy bollocks. The spy who loved me is keeping all my secrets safe tonight… And then one more big swing from a woman, legs go right up.. Oh, what was that? Too late! Nobody does it half as good as you. Baby, you’re the best.
Sonja: Yes! Brilliant!
Alan: So, do you want to hear some more? [cuts to everybody sitting down watching “America’s Strongest Man”]