Friday Night Comedy from BBC Radio 4 - Party's Over: ep5 The Great Outdoors 20th August 2021

Episode Date: August 20, 2021

What happens when the Prime Minister suddenly stops being Prime Minister?One day you're the most powerful person in the country, the next you're irrelevant, forced into retirement 30 years ahead of schedule and find yourself asking 'What do I do now?'Miles Jupp stars as Henry Tobin - Britain's shortest serving and least popular post war PM (he managed 8 months).We join Henry soon after his crushing election loss. He’s determined to not let his disastrous defeat be the end of him. Instead Henry's going to get back to the top - he's just not sure how and in what field..This week Henry's protection officer, Jones takes him on an ill-advised survival weekend in "the jungle".Henry Tobin... Miles Jupp Christine Tobin... Ingrid Oliver Natalie... Emma Sidi Jones... Justin EdwardsWritten by Paul Doolan and Jon HunterProduced by Richard Morris and Simon Nicholls Production co-ordinator: Caroline BarlowA BBC Studios Production

This is the BBC. This podcast is supported by advertising outside the UK. Parties Over by Paul Doolan and John Hunter. We've had some more emails in, Mr Tobin. Unfortunately, it's a no from the BBC about the train documentaries. Michael bloody Portillo always ruining it for the rest of us, Natalie. And a no from Question time, but a maybe from gardener's question time.

Pass the superglue. Why only a maybe? Bunny Guinness might have to pull out as she's got Dutch Elm. Poor Bunny Guinness. Henry, what are you doing with my Tiffany then? I'm fixing it, Christine. It may have got a little bit broken when they said on the news how much Ed Balls is getting for his

new cookbook, Balls on the Plate. The guy was a failure, now he's raking it in. Oh, I'm just checking the perimeter, sir. Excellent, Jones. Only slightly undermined by the fact that we could all see you were just eating a Kit Kat in the garden. Mr Tobin, there was one other telly offer, but I didn't think you'd be interested. It's, er, I'm a celebrity, get me out of here. Absolutely not.

No way. I thought so. As if a statesman would stoop that low just because they're dangling £150,000. Though, just to play devil's advocate, it could be good for my profile. People are forgetting me. That truck driver who called you the C word yesterday didn't seem to have forgotten you. No, well, truck drivers have always held it in for me. You did imply they were

all serial killers. I didn't know my mic was on. I need to reinvent myself in the public eye, and doing I'm a celebrity could show them my fun side. Really, Ed Balls said. Plus, just think what we could buy with £150,000. £85,714 Greg Steakbakes.

What? I may have run the numbers. Has our recent life not been humiliating enough? It's one thing being the PM who ruined Britain. It's another being the PM who ruined the country and ate kangaroo balls on national television. They're not that bad, actually.

It tastes a lot like chicken. Why can't you do Strictly or something nice where they cut away to the wife in the audience looking glamorous? Strictly? They all end up having affairs. How do you know some lithe young dancer wouldn't fall in love with me? It's a risk I'm willing to take. I'm not.

It's a terrible idea if you ask me, Mr Tormund. You'd never last two seconds in the jungle without me to protect you. No, Jones is right. You wouldn't last a day in the wilderness. You couldn't even cut it when we went walking in the Mendibs. I had tight shoes. I don't even have to win. Just let the public see fun Henry

and come home with £150,000 to spend while we wait for the office to roll in. We're not doing anything this weekend. How about we go on a little camping trip in the woods and I'll show you I've got what it takes. OK, we'll make a deal. First, you never refer to yourself as Fun Henry again. And if you can't manage a weekend in the woods, the jungle's off. Absolutely.

Oh, can I come? You'll need me there for any urgent personal private secretarying. And I'll make sure it's a proper survival weekend. I mean, I'm a proper survivalist. Like Bear Grylls meets John Rambo and then the two of them meet Ant Middleton and Chris Ryan, right? And then in turn...

We get the picture. Jones, I need to do this. OK? It's a chance to finally make some money and reinvent myself with the public. Show I'm not the cock-up I was painted as by the gutter press. Could somebody fetch some acetone? I bet you've glued all of my fingers to this lamp. Right, you can take the blindfolds off now.

Here we are at the mystery location of Camp X. It would be less of a mystery if you turned the voice off the sat-nav. I mean, I know exactly where we are. We're just off the A40 outside Cheltenham. Yes, I don't know what says unspoilt wilderness more, the low hum of traffic or the discarded jazz mags. Right, attention. Right, time to fall in, you useless bunch of losers.

I mean no offence by that, Mr and Mrs Torbin. It's time to get serious. Some of you will come out of this men. I do hope not. And some of you will find out who you really are. Oh my God, I hope I am Natalie. Some of you may well die. Very reassuring.

Look, Jones, can I have my phone back for a second? I've left all the phones at home, sir. What? But I'm in a hilarious Twitter chat with Catlin Moran. She'll think I've left her hanging. She might think it's a shun. It's not a shun, James. The only communicating we're going to be doing this weekend is with Mother Nature and Primal Man. But I need my phone 24 hours a day in case Henry needs to call me or send an email to tell me he's proud of me.

You know, I'm actually looking forward to this. A weekend in proper nature. A chance to really work on my yoga, my mindfulness. It can make up for that wellness retreat we had to cancel in lockdown. Oh, yes, still gutted we missed that. I was really looking forward to having a stab at rebalancing the old chi. Well, instead of that, you can look forward to being on the front of the Radio Times eating a crocodile's penis.

Well, they're not so bad. They taste a little like chicken. Right, let's set up camp. Bet I get my tent up first. Brown Owl said I was best at putting up tents. Were you a girl guide too, Natalie? Yeah, kind of. Mum and Dad wouldn't let me join clubs with other children, but the community we lived in had survival scout training to prepare us for the end times. There were badges. It was brilliant. That explains a lot.

I never got my gold, though. I was nearly there, then the community fell apart after all the arrests. Jones, if I do the final few tasks, will you be brown owl and give me my gold badge? I need to cook on a fire, save a human life,

and hunt an animal to the death. Of course I'll be a brown owl. What of a Newcastle brown owl? I actually used to be able to turn my head around nearly 180 degrees, and I probably still can, actually. Ah, no! Just not that way, no. Right, let's just set up camp before my neck packs in.

What is that? My tent. Well, more of an XXL executive glamping teepee. It's full of stuff. We're supposed to be enjoying the wilderness. Just us and the essentials. Everything I've brought is essential. A blender?

Yes. For my coconut oil, my kale matcha smoothies. I'm using this weekend to flush my system spiritually and detoxify my energy. I think every word of that sentence made a scientist die. Is that a king-sized airbed? Yes, OK, I want a little luxury. But we've not had a holiday in over a year,

so I'm making the most of this. Plus, I'll need the space for when you admit you can't hack it in the wild and come begging to join me. I'll be fine in my own tent, thank you. Where is my tent, Jones? Well, there isn't one. If I'm letting you loose in the jungle with nothing but Fern Britain

and the comic stylings of Ant and Dec for company, I need to know that you can build a shelter from whatever you can forage. All right, no problem. I think I can build a little teepee out of sticks. All right, well, good luck, sir. I'm back in a bit to check on your handiwork. I'm just off for a lie down.

So, lie of the land. I'm off to a bit to check on your handiwork. I'm just off for a lie down. So, lie of the land. I'm off to check off the... Check the lie of the land. There we go. Nearly done now. Well, Ant, if I bend this branch slightly, it should form a rudimentary lintel that will allow me to...

Oh, my eye! Well, there you go. That's a fail, and your fire's gone out again, sir. Ah, well, you know, always bullock them a spoon with me for tonight. I give off a surprising amount of body heat, you know. I've done since I was a baby. My mum used to say it was like trying to breastfeed a kettle.

Let's keep that option a heavy no. My tent's finished, Brown Owl, and there's room for you as well, Mr Tobin. No, thank you, Natalie. Did you just wink at me, sir? No, Natalie, I've partially blinded myself with a stick. I get you, sir. Wink.

Little hint for you, darling. Lighting a fire is so much easier if you use the in-car cigarette lighter. That goes slightly against the ethos of the weekend. This is modern survival, darling. Lighting a fire is so much easier if you use the in-car cigarette lighter. That goes slightly against the ethos of the weekend. This is modern survival, Henry. Use whatever's at hand, like the car lighter, or this foot spa. I'll return

to the fire and shelter later. Can we break for lunch? What did you bring, Jones? Cheese? Ham? One of your homemade three-tiered pork pies? Well, nothing for you, Mr. Tobin. You need to learn to survive on what nature offers. So we're going hunting. Deer, rabbit, you know, if we're lucky. We might even get to hunt the ultimate prey.

Do you mean man? No, no, squirrel. No, it's very lean meat. And just enough fur for a mitten or a small hat. I'm ready for the hunt, brown owl. I can nearly smell that badge. I'll leave you to your little Lord of the Flies outing. I'm going to take my new yoga mat out into the wilderness

to commune with nature. It's made from sustainable Portuguese cork. Only £400. You sure you don't fancy joining me? No. I'm a hunter now, and I've got dinner to catch. Plus, you know how ridiculous I look doing yoga. I look like a man trying to crawl into his own anus. Hi. Wait, wait.

Sounds like a stampede. Could be wild boar. No, that was my stomach. We've been hunting for hours. How have we caught nothing? Wait, quiet. Jones, squirrel. Mr Torbent, badger. I like this game. What is it? No, no.

Squirrel. OK, sharpened stick game. What is it? Squirrel. OK, sharpened stick, let's see what you've got. I'm a hunter. I'm a primal man with my spear. Go the hell through that... Oh, it's you. Sorry, did it hit you, darling? Yes, it bloody did. I was just switching off my mind and getting into child's pose when a stick whacked me in the back. I'm so sorry. Well, you're lucky I wasn't in Downwood Dog, or God knows where it could have landed. I was just switching off my mind and getting into child's pose when a stick whacked me in the back.

I'm so sorry. You're lucky I wasn't in Downwood Dog, or God knows where it could have landed. Tuggle accident. These things happen in the heat of the hunt. Can't help but notice you've not caught anything. It's my fault. I should have caught it, but I couldn't do it. I'm sorry. I've let everyone down. Oh, no, don't blame yourself. Come on. You're just weak. It's a fundamental flaw of character.

Oh, I really want my gold badge, but all animals look too cute. Even this snail I found. Look at its little face. Ah, very slimy. Might go well with some garlic butter. No, Mr Tobin, not little Shelley. Don't worry, Shelley, I'll keep you safe. We're losing the hunting light. I think we'd better get back to camp. What about dinner? I'm starving. Not sure if it's my hunger or your sunburn, but you're starting to look like a tempting sausage roll, Jones.

Well, don't worry, we'll be eating soon. We can get all the nutrition we need from the land itself. You know, berries, there's mushrooms. Oh, look, there's another jazz mag. Nature really does provide for the hungry pervert. Self, you know, berries, there's mushrooms. Oh, look, there's another jazz mag. Nature really does provide for the hungry pervert. One mushroom omelette. Who's hungry?

Massively, but there's no way on earth I'm touching that omelette. Oh, you're lost. You could have some of my tofu scramble. Or a protein ball. All you have to do is admit defeat. I think the key, if you're trying to tempt someone, darling, is to use something tempting. Not something you'd only feed to a dog.

Let's see if you're still saying that after a few hours of living off the land. Well, I'll try a protein ball, Mrs T. Hmm. That must taste like chicken. They're a superfood. You really have to be into superfoods these days. And that giant bag of minstrels in your tent flat, are they a superfood, Gwyneth?

Right, well, just for that, you can't have any of my tagine. Oh, great, it's ready. You've brought a slow cooker? It's great. It's been cooking away, leaving me time to relax in the massage chair. I'm starting to really enjoy the great outdoors. You've barely been outdoors.

That's not camping. Camping is outside, primal, getting back to nature and telling ghost stories around the fire. Oh, can we do that? I'd love a ghost story, sir. Oh, I've got a ghost story. Sam Wheat was a bunker in New York City. He was in love with an artist, Molly Jensen, played by Demi Moore.

Now, when Sam is murdered by his corrupt business partner, Carl Brunner... Sorry, wait. Is this the plot to Ghost? Yeah. It's Belter, isn't it? It's one of the top 25 Swayze films. That man could do everything. He could fight, dance, pottery. What about some

super fun camp songs instead? Kumbaya, great leader, we love you. How about a round, maybe? Kumbaya, great leader, we love you. How about a round, maybe? Kumbaya, great leader, we love... Kumbaya, great leader, we love... Nobody wants to sing camp songs, Natalie. This is all just a disaster.

I can't kill an animal, no gold badge, and nobody will sing fun songs. Fine, me and Shelley are going to our tent. Shelley? Sna to our tent. Shelley? Snail. Right. Well, I might go for an early night too, in my

king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets. You're not going to tempt me. Are you sure? No, I must remain strong. I am two steps away from relaunching my career. And one of those steps involves sitting in a bath of leeches with Ainsley Harriet. Can't be any worse than party conference season.

Night, then. Enjoy your shelter. It's not so bad, Henry. You've been in worse places. A hot tub with Andrea Leadsom. This is a walk in the park. I'm going to bid you goodnight too, sir. I'm off into the woods. Why?

Well, let's just say Brown Owl needs to lay some pellets. I mean, without going into too much detail, those mushrooms are working through me like quicksilver. I think you've already gone into too much detail. Right, right. Dock leaves, check, reading material. Oh, it didn't bring a book.

Well, there's a T-shirt left to do. Keep calm and carry on. No, I didn't bring a book. Well, there's a T-shirt left to do. Keep calm and carry on. No, I've already read this one. What's that? Oh, come on, Henry. It's an owl. You know this. You've seen Springwatch.

Can you eat owls? Or are they something else? The queen is bagsy. Wolves. Can you eat owls? Or are they something else the Queen has bagged? Wolves. I always knew this was how I'd die. Either eaten by wolves or literally stabbed in the back by Michael Gove. Maybe it is Gove. He swore revenge.

Just because I said he looked like the star of a Soviet cartoon about a sad thumb. Calm down, Henry. You just need something to eat. Here it goes. Darling, I've been a bit of an idiot, but I'm sorry. Any room for one more in there? Oh, my God, of course, sir. Oh, not you, Natalie. Go back to sleep. Christy, darling, no, this isn't me giving up.

It's just all of this nature has really got me feeling a bit primal. Primal? Very much so. And that moon, it's all incredibly romantic. I wondered if you fancied... You're trying to get your hands on my minstrels, aren't you? Well, maybe a handful. You can have all

the minstrels you like. All yours if you just admit you can't do it and call off the jungle. It's for your own good. So that's how little you think of me? I'm trying to reinvent my entire public persona so I can launch a new career. But a bag of minstrels and I'll cave in? Pretty much.

I am not a quitter. No, no, normally you get forced out by a vote of no confidence. That is below the belt. What's below the belt is my husband eating dingo's anus on a game show. Right now, that sounds delicious. And if you want to apologise to me, I'll be outside, surviving. Can I just take a couple of minstrels? No.

Would you like my last sausage, Mrs Tobin? I'm fine with my chia seed and guava porridge, thank you. But you could waft it in front of Henry's face for a bit, unless he's already been out and caught his own breakfast. I'm not rousing to this. Excuse him. He gets very angry when he's hungry. I am not angry. Oh, is this the fun, Henry, we've heard so much about?

Sorry, OK? I'm sorry. I'm human. And I'd kill you all through a Greggs right now. And you can sod off too, you feathered prick! OK, perhaps I do let my inner pretty Patel out when I'm hungry. I don't think I've ever felt less stressed, starting the day with wild swimming. It's like it washes away all your worries. Oh, where do you go swimming?

Oh, Natalie, there's a gorgeous little pond through the woods. It's so mindful. I just lay at the foot of this beautiful willow tree, feeling the water washing over me, listening to the wind in the trees. So much more spiritual than a swimming pool. Or maybe I could get a Guardian column out of this. Oh, yes, the pinnacle of enlightenment,

a column in the Guardian next to Adrian Childs. Does this seem strange to anyone else? There's a full English frying away and Jones is nowhere to be seen. It is peculiar. Jones, is everything... Oh, God. Oh, morning everybody. Lovely day. Smell that sea air.

Does anyone want to go to the fun fair? He's out of it. You don't look very well, Jones. I don't want to immediately blame the mushrooms, but I did have a few trips to the latrine in the night and I think I've lost about 40% of my body weight. What latrine? It's through the woods in the ponds.

Oh, God. Just to the foot of the willow tree. Oh, God, I'll tell you, sir, there's a weeping willow after my night visit. Oh, no, no, no, no. Get me out of this nightmare and into a shower. Hose me down with every chemical under the sun. Oh, my God,

my hair's still wet from it. He looks disorientated. How many fingers am I holding up? Well, it's hard to tell. I've only been able to see in shapes since about midnight. What happened to your ankle? It looks like a football. I went over on it on my eighth trip back from the latrine, and I can't really walk anymore. I a football. I went over on it on my eighth trip back from the latrine and I can't really walk anymore.

I move it, I touch it as it goes. Here's a compress. That should help the swelling. Plus I can tick off my lifesaver skill. One step closer to my gold badge. Yay! You're a good triangle, Natalie. Anyone else's teeth feel hot? What's Jimmy Nail doing here? OK, we need to get him to a hospital. Yes, and we need to get

me to a shower. We'd better hurry. First things first, are there any of those minstrels left? Why are you all looking at me like that? Right, okay, I'll bring the car round, we can load him in the boot. Can we put a tarpaulin down first, and then sell the car when we get home? The battery's dead.

Really? Oh, that's... How weird. Probably one of those things. Probably that, darling, yes. Although the power lead going from the cigarette lighter into your tent could have something to do with it. Oh, right. So it's my fault.

You dragged me here. You can't expect me to live without essentials. Hmm. What's more essential, the facial steamer or the Peloton bike? It's a wonder there's any electricity left in the National Grid, let alone the car. Oh, you want to bring the National Grid into it? At least I didn't sell the National Grid to Germany. One game of high-stakes poker with Angela Merkel and people don't let you forget about it!

Stop fighting, stop fighting, stop fighting! Natalie's right. Let's all hug, kiss, spoon and make up. OK, she's wrong about that bit, but we don't have time to argue. We need to get Jones out of here and get me to a hotel with hot running water or a swimming pool. Even a garden hose, I'm not picky. You're right, he's hot, even for him. Oh, is that you, Rafa Benitez?

All right, somehow we have to fashion a stretcher and find our way out of these woods. I might have just the thing. My yoga mat. If we tie it to these sticks from your shelter. Let's roll him on. And I can secure him to it with my survival scout knot skills. Four constrictor knots should do it. Great.

You know I might not have my gold badge, but I'll always be a proper scout. Great, happy for you. Bigger problems here. OK, let's all lift on three. One, two for you. Bigger problems here. OK, let's all lift on three. One, two, three. Trust me, I was a lot heavier yesterday evening. OK, this is it.

Actual life-or-death survival. Don't worry, Jones, it's going to take all my skills, but I'll have us out of here in no time. It's going to take all my skills, but I'll have us out of here in no time. I'm going to put my back out of it. You have to carry her much further. Do all that yoga undone. I thought this end would be lighter.

How have you got such a heavy head? Well, it's mostly my neck, Mrs T. It retains a lot of water. I've always had a heavy neck. It's not much lighter in the middle. Well, I've always had quite a heavy bum, sir. It's a family trick. You know, my only problem is that I want to be cut out of a hotel bathtub.

Have we been here before? That tree looks familiar. That's because it's a tree, Natalie. They all look the same. Not sure you can say that. If Twitter hears you, you'll get cancelled as some sort of tree racist. At least if I get cancelled,

I'll be able to make a packet writing columns for every right-wing paper about how I can't get work anymore. You and Lawrence Fox could do a tour together. He's bound to be available. Oh, God! Liquid! Jones, you're leaking! Oh, God, get it off me! Don't worry, sir, you've just punctured my emergency capri sun.

I've got to that. I'll wipe you down if you've got sticky, sir. No need for that, thank you, Natalie, but we couldn't do with the rest before we all get some sort of crippling spine injury and maybe a snack of some sort. OK, but not long. I want out of these crappy woods, out of nature,

I want a hot bath and an iPad. There's a nice patch to lure him just here. OK, if we all gently bend our knees. Right, what's this about emergency capriccians? Pass them around. Those E-numbers can probably get us all the way home. I'm sorry, Mr Torben, I only carry the one. Pack light and move fast.

It's the SAS way. Maybe if we find some higher ground, we'll be able to work out where we are. Me and Shelley can go ahead and... Or I could shit up this tree. Despite what some people say, I'm not entirely useless at physical activity. Just need to...

Or I could head up that hill over there. Here we go! There's a road! And there's a... Oh, my God! There is a road just through the woods that way, and even better, there's a little shaft. I wonder if they still do the Olympic breakfast.

Just... Just open this verge and we're there. OK, hold on tight, everyone. To Jones, Natalie. Oh, thanks. Someone try to flag down a car. But maybe not you, Henry, in case you're spotted by a trucker and mowed down. They're only proving me right.

We just need to get Jones to a hospital and me to an industrial strength shower. Also, it might be an idea to pop into a certified osteopath before we get permanent curvature of the spine. Do you think there's any osteopaths with a canteen? Why, you did it, sir. You said you'd get me to safety and you

stood by your word. I'm a man of my word, Jones, despite what was graffitied across our garage door last week. Now we've reached civilisation, I've got something to tell you. You'll laugh at this. It's not that joke about the two nuns playing tennis, is it? Because that was just obscene. No, no, it's not.

I've a little confession to make. There's actually nothing wrong with my ankle. What? I was pretending all along. I needed to be sure you'd cope in a crisis. So you're not injured at all? No. That's funny, isn't it? No. No, it's really not. You made us carry your fat neck and fat bum all the way through the woods.

But your ankle was really swollen. Well, it's always been like that. The Joneses have all got massive ankles. My nan has to buy shoes second-hand from drag queens. I'll just rub some deep heat on it to bring out the colour. How did you fake that smell? What smell? I did all that for nothing. Well, not for nothing.

You proved that Mr Tobin has the survival skills it takes to go to the jungle. Sir, you have my blessing, for I'm a celebrity. And I think we've all learnt what we're capable of, eh? So, if you just untie these knots, we can go home. How strong are those knots, Natalie? They're A-grade, sir. Leda always said a good knot could be the difference between safety and damnation. Right, so if we left Jones lashed to a yoga mat on this central reservation,

he wouldn't be able to struggle free. Oh, no, definitely not. So, who's for a slap-up breakfast? As long as they've got a hot tap in the toilet so I can wash myself with, I am in. But you can't, sir. Funny, isn't it, Jones? Come on, then. But you'll need protection.

Only from you, Jones. Hang on. We're not going back for you. No, it's not that. I can't find Shelley. I'm sure she'll be okay, Natalie, but there's a full English with my name on it. It's a chop-chop. But she's my friend.

Oh, okay. Well, she can't have got far. I think a snail and all. Er, let's look. She was in my pocket when we left Jones. She must be... What did I just step on? Sounded a bit Shelley to me.

I've got bad news for you, Natalie. I'm afraid she's dead. If it's any comfort, it would have been quick. And also, she was a snail, so it really doesn't matter. I killed her. I killed her. I killed her! Yes!

What? I did it. I hunted an animal. Final task, gold badge! I don't need Jones to tell me how to survive the jungle. I just need a bit more practice. And sausages. Are you eating that, Natalie? Oh, you're welcome to it, sir. If I need any more, I'll go out and hunt a pig. It's the spirit.

I emptied three entire dispensers of hand sanitiser on myself. What'll I have to do till we get back to civilisation? Smell like neat spirits. I'm getting flashbacks to my meetings with Jean-Claude Juncker. Oh, a bacon sandwich. No matcha kale smoothie? No chance. Mmm. Mmm. Oh, my God sandwich. No matcha kale smoothie? No chance. Mmm. Mmm.

Oh, my God. Screw yoga. This is zen perfection. Maybe I can get a Guardian article out of this. Mindfulness through bacon. Talking of perfection, I'm going to order another mixed grill and take my time reading the papers.

See how many more financial scandals have hit Boris. Well, we were only away for one day, Henry. I can't imagine there were more than three or four. Anything on the front pages? What about... Oh, balls to it. What's wrong, sir? I've told you not to read Sarah Vine. You know she gets your blood pressure up.

Look at this. They've announced the next series of I'm a Celebrity. I'm not in it. They've gone with Michael bloody Portillo. The former MP has pledged to give his fee for the show to charity. What a total bust. Shh, shh, shh. Look, come on, you get back to your mixed grill. Portillo can't take that away from you.

He could try. Oh, it's starting to rain. Do you think we should go and get Jones? Let's not rush things, Natalie. You know, they were wrong when they said revenge is sweet. In reality, it tastes like chicken. Hello? Hello? Hi, anyone? Hi, hello, hello? Oh, thank you, thank you. I've got an emergency Kit Kat in my right hip pocket. If you could just reach in, I'll come back.

Parties Over starred Miles Japp, Ingrid Oliver, Justin Edwards and Emma Sidi. It was written by Paul Doolan and John Hunter. It was produced by Simon Nicholls and Richard Morris and it was a BBC Studios production. This is the first radio ad you can smell. The new Cinnabon Pull Apart only at Wendy's. It's ooey, gooey and just five bucks

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