Friday Night Comedy from BBC Radio 4 - The Naked Week: Ep5. Jesus Christ Superstarmer, and Dark Satanic Mills

Episode Date: April 10, 2026

The team pile in on Mills and the Moon. (Mills and Moon sounds like a series of romantic novels. Just to manage your expectations, that's not where we're going with this). Also, just in time for Easter, the world premiere of Jesus Christ Superstarmer. From The Skewer’s Jon Holmes and host Andrew Hunter Murray comes The Naked Week; a fresh way of dressing the week’s news in the altogether and parading it around for everyone to laugh at. With award-winning writers and a crack team of contemporary satirists - and recorded in front of a live audience - The Naked Week delivers a topical news-nude straight to your ears. Written by: Jon Holmes Katie Sayer Gareth Ceredig James Kettle Jason Hazeley Additional Material: Karl Minns Helen Brooks Sophie Dickson Molly Punshon Cooper Mahwinny Sweryt Joe Topping Kevin Smith Investigation team: Cat Neilan Becky Pinnington Emily Channon Guests: Rosie Holt, Space Lawyer Heather Allansdottir. Production Team: Tony Churnside, Jerry Peal, David Riffkin. Production Coordinator: Molly Punshon Assistant Producer: Katie Sayer Executive Producer: Philip Abrams Produced and Directed by Jon Holmes An unusual production for BBC Radio 4

This BBC podcast is supported by ads outside the UK. Dive into the bonkers world of David Mitchell and Robert Webb and listen to their BBC comedy show. From nonsensical maths quiz number wang to finding out what James Bond is really like as a party guest. There's something for everyone. Hello, MOTT AAT. Yes, that's right. This is the Ministry of Things that are apparently true. Yes, we do exist. The rumours are true, ironically. Start listening to that Mitchell and Web sound.

the complete series 1 to 5 wherever you get your audio books. Isn't the Radio 2 Breakfast Show at all? That was just something we found in a skip round the back of broadcasting house. Instead, welcome to the naked week on Radio 4! Yes, the naked week. Imagine the world that won if it had been sacked due to its personal conduct.

And this week we're coming to you from Brighton. A city that, like the House of Lords, has lost many of its ageing peers. Coming up on The Naked Week this week, Jeremy Vine outlines the BBC's new methods for keeping their radio presenters in line. Musling them in public and having them neutered. Which explains why I just received a calendar invite

saying, VET 9am tomorrow, don't worry about it. Also on the way, Keir Starmer forgets the word for winter. What's the one that comes when it gets colder later in the year? Come on, Keir. You remember. It's the one that comes before spring, and after the phrase, thanks to you, many elderly people feared they would not make it through thee. Plus, King Charles single-handedly rescues his own stranded vehicle.

He used the piercings on what he described as, the world's strongest nipples, to pull the carriage. A trick he learned from the Queen Mother. This week, our thoughts have been turning once again to the tragic events in the Middle East, from where we're hearing stories about the crucifixion of Jesus. Awful news. And apparently, if we want him to come back, we're on our own.

America is not helping. But after four weeks of talking about the war, we thought we'd go for a much-needed change of pace in exactly the way the today program doesn't. So, instead, at this very special time of year, when we remember one man who rose from the dead to lead his people to salvation, we thought we'd ask,

is there any hope for the resurrection of Sir Keir Starmer? Now, we're not saying that the Prime Minister has all that much in common with the Messiah. Or does he? Son of a manual labourer. Check. A much maligned man once believed able to perform miracles. Check. Raised the dead.

Check. Brought back Ed Miliband. Casting out demons. Well, Peter Mandelson's gone. Eventually casting out demons. And yet now people want Jesus Christ Super Starma gone. No one is writing that musical anymore. Probably because it would be highly offensive to anyone

who still truly believes in socialism. But in the last couple of weeks, all the parties have launched their local election campaigns. Kirstama launched labours with all the clarity and sense of direction of Tiger Woods driving to the shops. We don't yet know exactly how the Labour campaign will unfold, but some people are already calling it

the charge of the shite brigade. But maybe, maybe the problem lies with us, the great British voting public. We, she, he, they, is, are cock-eyed optimists. Along comes a new political face, and you fall all over them like you've just met a puppy. For example, here is Catlin Moran in The Times

a week after the last general election. Every middle-aged woman I know feels right now kind of fruity, tanned on. Okay. And what particular left-leaning plumb was juicing you and your friends, Catlin? Not palpably bone-dry, Kirstama, surely. It wasn't specifically Kirstama,

or even a new Labour government, but competency. There is nothing more erotic to a middle-aged woman than competency. Oh! How sexy is chronic indecisiveness, Catlin? I mean, surely a woman loves nothing more than a bloke who says he's going to do something,

does it, then panics and tries to undo. it because he's less secure than a rumour to travel lodge. And if you think that's grim, how about this? From Flora Gill in G.Q. Confessing to having the wettest of dreams about the wettest of wipes. I opened up to my friends about my shameful new feelings, a deep desire for Rishi Sinnak. People's proven through a spectacled hunk

have even gone so far that he's taken on the nickname Dishie Rishi. The spectacled hunk. Don't make him angry. He might turn green and then very carefully unbutton his shirt. The problem is this. You start out all wide-eyed and full of hope about our political leaders and eventually, actually usually pretty quickly, the honeymoon is over and you're wittering on about the disappointment.

And so it came to pass that more and more people are talking about the end of the two-party system. The main disruptors in the forthcoming local elections are reform and the Greens. So in this Easter season, maybe it's the right time to ponder which of the two-party these possible new messires could be the savior Britain so badly needs. So please welcome our pondering which of these possible new messires could be the savior Britain so badly needs correspondent

is Rosie Holt. Hot cross voters. Hot cross voters. One a penny, two a penny. Hot cross voters. Hello Rosie. What a normal introduction. Are the voters actually hot? No, Andy. It's Britain in the first week of April, but they certainly are cross.

Okay. Let's start. Talk us through their angry options. Basically, for so many years, it's often felt like the only choices between Labour and the Conservatives. They're like Anton Deck, two indistinguishable men who say largely the same thing as each other.

Yes, and very difficult to tell which one is standing further on the right. But now, the two-party system is being torn up with voters being offered a whole line-up of fresh-faced new options. Well, I say fresh-faced. One of them is Nigel Farage. That's not a face you can.

can really describe as fresh, more stale, really, complexion like a Wetherspoons pub carpet, still in denial about the smoking ban. Then there's Zach Polanski, he could be the new Messiah, because he says he can give a woman a chest big enough to feed 5,000. It's a miracle. What about the traditional parties? Ed Davy can walk on water. Very briefly, in the split second directly after he's fallen off the paddleboard.

Yes. Starma made the blind see again. Yes, but unfortunately after they saw what Britain was like under Labour, they did ask if they could go blind again. Kenny Badenock, for her part, has bravely led her party into the wilderness for the next 40 years. Well, in deference to our listeners in Scotland and Wales, we should consider the prospects of the SNP and Plaid Cunery, respectively.

You're done considering. Yes. But here's the thing. Once you've lived through a few elections, you begin to realize that every new dawn ends up being a disappointment. We pin our hopes on political leaders as frequently, as serious allegations

are pinned on prominent BBC personalities. Now, as you know, we, at the Naked Week, we like to help. So we say we should all stop running away from disappointment and instead embrace it. So this Easter weekend, forget chocolate eggs, because what we've got is the Naked Week's very own answer to a box of celebrations. It is a box of chocolate disappointments.

These are, these, we've got, we've genuinely done this. Each one of these is handcrafted. And when I say that, that's a polite way of saying, bodged together by the work experience kid, which does make them inedible. But that is fitting, because they do represent some of Britain's greatest disappointments. I'll be honest, to tell us what we've got in the tub, we did want an Easter bunny, but when we tried to buy the costume, on Amazon, it was very expensive. So please instead welcome a very disappointing and cheap Easter Bunny.

It's the Naked Week non-denominational celebration rodent, aka the Easter Rat! Lovely. That's a wonderful costume you're wearing for this predominantly audio program. For listeners at home, Rosie is wearing a five-piece rat outfit consisting of

ears, tail, nose whiskers and inexplicably a bow tie. It was 799. Of your money. It's a low moment for my self-respect. Well, I'm afraid that happened the minute you agreed to be on the naked week, Rosie. And by the way, your line is, oh, my ears and whiskers. I'm not saying that.

Come on. You must. You must. It's a BBC-approved safe word. I know it's too little too late, but we are trying. Right, Rosie, shall we have a look at these chocolate disappointments? What have you got? First up, a chocolate HS2 project.

Oh. It's a little tray. It's genuinely a little chocolate tray. Chocolate HS2. Extremely disappointing. And also, half the size it used to be. A chocolate new Peaky Blidersfield. Yay.

Great. All right, I'm going to have a look in the tub. What's this? A chocolate Scott Mills. Apparently the BBC knew about this one 10 years ago, but they didn't bother unwrapping it. Scott Mills, by the way, now surely considered the worst mills.

after dark, satanic and Edinburgh woolen. And would a chocolate Brexit year you what? It would not. And neither would a chocolate BBC Sounds app. Truly the bounty bar of disappointments. A chocolate brew dog share certificate? This is a classic disappointment, a chocolate Oasis's third album.

A chocolate kiss, I'm a book. policy announcement. Oh no, wait! That's had a product recall notice. So a chocolate-sacked reform candidate, obviously made of white chocolate. Here is a chocolate BAFTA awards controversy. Absolutely not touching this one.

Thoroughly disappointing and 100% fatal if eaten. Thanks, Easter rat. The news quiz doesn't make their guests dress up as rats. It's only because they use Andy's Olsman hair as a nest. Rosie Hold the Easter at everybody. This is The Naked Week on Radio 4, where it's time once again to bathe in the healing world events waters that gently cascade through the relaxing garden of current affairs contemplation.

It's the news in haikus. On NATO, Trump says he'll pull out. Many wish his dad had done the same. The news in high coos. Dive into the bonkers world of David Mitchell and Robert Webb and listen to their BBC comedy show. From nonsensical maths quiz number wang to finding out what James Bond is really like as a party guest,

there's something for everyone. Hello, MOTT AAT. Yes, that's right. This is the Ministry of Things that are apparently true. Yes, we do exist. The rumours are true, ironically. Start listening to that Mitchell and Webb sound, the complete series 1 to 5,

wherever you get your audiobooks. You're listening to The Naked Week. In the week when Reform announced that they'd be keeping the triple lock despite Nigel Farage previously describing it as unaffordable. And speaking of pandering to the geriatric vote, please welcome the Werther's original

to my walk-in bath. It's the Observer Whitehall editor and the Naked Week's chief investigative reporter, Kat Neelan! Do you remember the Horizon Post Office scandal? Of course. Faulty computer software that caused almost a thousand sub-postmasters

to be wrongfully convicted of theft and fraud. resulting in one of ITV's least unbearable dramas. And do you remember the unpaid carers scandal? Kind of, but is it even a scandal unless Toby Jones is on a poster looking miserable? Remind us what happened to unpaid carers. Something appallingly similar to what happened to sub-postmasters.

Between 2008 and 2024, the Department for Work and Pensions overpaid more than a quarter of a million carers, a benefit called Carers' Allowance. The fallout when they tried to claw it back was devastating, with an independent review last year highlighting, quote, systemic flaws in the DWP's technology and methods. Now, we actually have an update on this, but I'll let the Naked Week's own unpaid reporter, Emily, explain more.

Hi, Andy, I wasn't aware this was unpaid. Ah, well, none of us are getting paid. The new DG made that painfully clear after last week when we read out Donald Trump's phone number. So, Emily, this is a complex story. It was reported in depth by The Guardian last. year, but the Naked Week has new information and we need to fill in some details. So first off, who exactly are unpaid carers? They're people who look after someone for more than 35 hours a week.

They're entitled to a carer's allowance, currently just over £86 a week, but only if they're earning less than £151 a week after tax from other employment. Right, so we are not talking multimillionaires here. Very much not. A recent report by Carers UK found that 1.2 million unpaid carers are living in poverty, with more than 400,000 of those so far below the poverty line, they enter a uniquely grim category known as deep poverty. Deep poverty, coincidentally, also the name of Rachel Reeves' prog rock band. So, Kat, by how much did the Department for Work and Pensions overpay carers in total? Around £250 million.

Okay, so presumably, not unreasonably, the DWP wanted to get this money back. Yes, but the sheer vindictive aggression with which they went about it would make even Pete Hexerth say, calm down, lads, we're starting to look like assholes. Right. Basically, if a carer had exceeded their annual earnings limit by even a single penny, they were ordered to pay back an entire year's worth of carers allowance. And in plenty of cases, the overpayments have been going on for a number of years. So although the average amount to be paid back was £4,000,

in some cases it was as high as £60,000. Now, a lot of these carers couldn't afford solicitors and had no legal aid, so many, including some of the Naked Week has spoken to directly, ended up pleading guilty to benefit fraud for what they maintained were completely inadvertent mistakes they'd know nothing about. But it was their responsibility to report any overpayments or changes in their financial circumstances to the DWP? And many of them did. Although it's also worth noting that it was government policy that the DWP should be the one notifying the carers of overpayments precisely in order to prevent them from accumulating large debts. And that

happened much less frequently. Why? Because according to the independent review, The DWP's processes have been insufficient to prevent overpayments accruing, and the high rate of overpayment debt has been caused not by widespread individual errors by carers in reporting their earnings, but by systemic issues preventing them from fulfilling this responsibility to report. And that the DWP was operating in a culture that assumed negligence as a default. Well, if it's good enough for radio two. No, no, no, no. So just to be clear, the DWP did have the tech. to prevent overpayments to carers.

Yes, they'd had it since 2014. It was meant to match carers' payments with their earnings reported to the tax office and flag if they were earning too much to get the benefit. But it wasn't reliable, and the DWP didn't have enough staff investigating the overpayments it flagged. So they just allowed the carer's debts to rack up and up.

Now, the Naked Week has dug a little deeper into this story, Andy, and it just gets even more depressing. I can hear Toby Jones's agent salivating. So in many instances, when a carer's debt reached £5,000, it prompted a referral for prosecution. Okay. And with a prosecution comes something called disclosure. Witches?

No, it's nothing to do with witches. Disclosure means that both sides in a criminal case should provide the other with all the facts and evidence they've gathered. So in this case, the DWP were obliged to provide information relevant to the carer's defence. But the thing is, the DWP didn't disclose to defendants that they had the technology, which in theory, was designed to prevent overpayments. Okay, why not? Well, they argued they didn't need to disclose the fact to the defendants because it was already in the public domain.

Okay, but where in the public domain? I mean, technically, Morrissey is in the public domain, but that doesn't mean anyone would ever want to find him. This information was buried in the middle of a 40-page report written by the National Audit Office in 2019. Oh, we all read that, didn't we? The smash-hit publishing sensation. So, to be clear, the department.

Department for Work and Pensions was claiming that an unpaid carer without any legal knowledge or representation, in addition to looking after someone full-time and possibly also holding down a minimum wage job, should somehow have known to comb through an obscure report from the National Audit Office to find out if the reason the DWP was prosecuting them was because the DWP itself had failed to notify them about its own multiple systemic failings. Precisely. And for listeners on BBC Sounds, feel free to read it. play that on loop as a soundtrack for banging your head against a wall. Okay, Emily, this is clearly a very, very sad story, but the DWP would still argue it's a straightforward case of overpayments needing to be recouped. Could what the DEWP may or may not have disclosed in court had a tangible impact on any of the prosecutions? Obviously, from a legal standpoint, Andy, no, the Naked Week would absolutely definitely not say that. That's good, because the new

Director General has also revoked our lawyer privileges. But, according to Dr Ed Johnson, an expert on legal disclosure from the University of Northampton, The prosecution cannot avoid its duty by claiming the material was in the public domain and hoping the unrepresented accused will find it for themselves. In circumstances where the defendant was unrepresented, knowledge of the DWP's failure to prevent the overpayments may well have affected their decision to enter a guilty plea. And how many unpaid carers were convicted of benefit fraud

and received criminal records in cases where the DWP may have failed, to disclose crucial information? At least 600. There we go. Now we took our investigation to the board overseeing compensation to the post office scandal victims, and they told us that. The government should ensure these prosecutions

of unpaid carers will be urgently and independently reviewed. So, what has the government done to compensate carers? He said, not holding his breath. Well, in November last year, they announced that £75 million have been set aside for the reassessment of more than 200,000 historical cases of overpayment. Okay, that is something. So we're five months on now. How many of those 200,000 cases have been reassessed? None, Andy. Not a single one. In fact, they're still trying to recruit decision makers to carry out the reassessments.

And there are currently no plans for the DWP to issue any kind of formal apology. Although they did find time to tell the naked week. The department takes seriously its legal duty and obligation to ensure all relevant information is disclosed to the Crown Prosecution Service. Anyone can apply to the Criminal Cases Review Commission if they think they were wrongly convicted of a criminal offence and have previously lost an appeal. We will reassess affected cases and potentially reduce, cancel or refund debts for thousands of carers.

Okay, potentially, only potentially. So also potentially not. Fraid so. Well, potentially, that's incredibly depressing. It's so depressing, in fact, we have just had a note from Toby Jones himself. It says, I'll do it. As long as the winner of me.

is up to the usual standard. I love it when a scandal comes together. Kat Neeland and Emily Chanon, everybody. This week, the United States sent a rocket to the moon. Or, to put it another way, the president, Mr. Just Stop Oil himself... ...has launched a missile at a foreign territory again. It is possible, of course,

he just looked up in the sky on the wrong night and thought, what's that Muslim flag doing there? Artemis 2 took off on Wednesday, and of course the current mission won't involve astronauts landing on the moon's surface, but we all know how quickly these things can escalate to boots on the ground. Now, as a result of all this, the clangers have closed the sea of tranquility. And blue string pudding is nearing $120 a barrel. But be that as it may, the US space program is back baby. It's one of the great 21st century revivals, alongside vinyl, measles and feral.

fascism. Almost 60 years on from Neil Armstrong's one small step. America has decided to announce one big step. The biggest step, probably. One big, beautiful step. Many people are saying, a lot of people are saying, the biggest, most beautiful step ever taken. As JFK himself once said...

She's just a cosmic girl. I'm not the guarantee. Oh, sorry, sorry. That wasn't JFK. That was JK. Lead singer and ambulatory hatstand of everyone's least favorite band, Jim Iroquai. We mercifully are not back. No, return for that space cowboy. No, what JFK said was this...

We choose to go to the moon and this decade and do the other things. Not because they are easy, but because they are hard. Stirring rhetoric. Can it be topped? As has often been stated, you can't be number one on Earth if you are number two in space. And we are not going to be. Yes. As has often been stated, if by often you mean once, by him just now and never again. But Trump's absolutely right. America will not be number two, except as an answer to the question, what is Donald Trump's tan made of? The Artemis launch took place at what is doubtless,

soon to be called the Trump Kennedy Trump Trump Space Center, Trump. Specifically from launch pad 39B. It actually started off as 39A, but then Zach Polanski hypnotized it. But hang on. How come the USA is just allowed to travel off to the moon whenever they feel like it? It's not their moon.

Correct me if I'm wrong. But generally, the US isn't keen on people turning up in places they don't come from, at least not without a lot of paperwork. You can't just go and grab the gold like teenagers getting their lunch and clap them. Can you? We wanted to get an exact understanding

of the legal situation surrounding the moon from an expert. Unfortunately, there's no such thing as a space lawyer. Except, do you know what? We googled it, and actually, it turns out there genuinely is. Please welcome space law consultant, Heather Allensdot here. So exciting. Heather, you are a space lawyer. What is a space lawyer?

Sort of like a regular lawyer, but people yawn a little bit less when you tell them what you do. As a space lawyer, the question we all really want to. answer to is this, have you ever had to get a Dalek off a murder charge? Yeah, you know, we had a good case, we were doing call and everything, but they couldn't get up the stairs. Oh yeah. Okay, so to go to this week's mission, to come to Artemis, who owns the moon?

So the boring, correct answer is nobody owns the moon. Nobody can own the moon. It's a very interesting book by the philosopher E.C. Grayling called Who Owns the Moon? It's really good read, but, I mean, it could have basically just been one word, no one. Okay, why? Why doesn't know what on the moon? Because of the Outer Space Treaty of 1967. Scientists went, look, guys, were your best chance at a Nobel Prize? Just sign this thing.

It's called the Outer Space Treaty. And it says that space is a global common. So like the seas and like the poles, space is a global commons. And any extraction of resources must be for all mankind. Could we persuade America to leave the moon if we renamed it Vietnam? Might well be your best bet. They'll scarper pretty quick, yeah. One final question.

Yeah. Can we, Britain, claim any of the moon? I mean, Wallace and Gromit have been there. That can't count for nothing. You'd think, given how good the Brits are at going around and, you know, sticking flags and other places. It's what we do. You think, no, I don't think Britain can kill him the moon. Understandable.

Space lawyer, Heather Allensdot here, everybody. Now, frankly, whatever the legal ins and outs, the Naked Week thinks that Britain deserves the moon. We need a lift, we need some optimism, something to snap us out of our pattern of endless disappointment. But alas, like a resolution to the doctor's strike or anyone having sex with Matt Goodwin,

it seems like we'll never get there. Our distinct lack of space program means we can't claim that rock anytime soon. But what can we claim? Well, all is not lost when it comes to rock. Useless bits of rock is what Britain does. Gibraltar, the Falklands,

Oasis's third album. As we said at the beginning of the show, this week, The Naked Week, is coming to you from Brighton. And if there was ever a home of rock, surely this is it. Graham Green's novel, indie band The Cooke's, that pink seaside stuff you get with this will rot your teeth written all the way through it.

And so, with an Easter basket of Brighton Rock to give out to our Brighton Easter audience, please welcome back. You remember, it was that bit where you genuinely thought you were hallucinating and started hitting the radio to make it all stop. The Naked Week Easter rat! Brilliant.

This is quite humiliating. Come on. Cheer up, Rosie. Chin up. And ears and nose and whiskers. I'll bite you, Andy. Okay. All right.

Well, now it's time. Please do the Easter rhyme to end the show. No. No, I'm not doing it. Come on. No. You have to. Rosie, you've got to.

I mean, the naked week Easter rat must do. It's Easter rhyme. It's in your contract. Come taste my sweet disappointments. Taste them as much as you please. For I am the rat of the Easter, the Easter, the Easter. For I am the rat of the Easter, and I have vials disease. The Naked Week, everyone.

That's it from the Naked Week this week. Goodbye! The Naked Week was hosted by me, Andrew Hunter Murray, with guest correspondent Rosie Holt and space lawyer, Heather Allens dot here. It was written by John Holmes, Katie Sayer, Gareth Carrick, Jason Haysley and James Cattle, with investigations team Cat Neelan, Emily Chanon, and Becky Pinnington. Additional material by

Carl Minns, Helen Brooks, Sophie Dixon, Molly Punch and Cooper Moorweny Swerk, Joe Topping, Kevin Smith and David Riffkin. The Naked Week is produced and directed by John Holmes, and it's an unusual production for BBC Radio 4. Dive into the bonkers world of David Mitchell and Robert Webb and listen to their BBC comedy show. From nonsensical maths quiz number wang to finding out what James Bond is really like as a party guest, there's something for everyone. Hello, MOTT, AAT. Yes, that's right. This is the of things that are apparently true? Yes, we do exist. The rumors are true, ironically. Start listening to that Mitchell and Webb sound, the complete series 1 to 5, wherever you get your audiobooks.