Cast: Steve Coogan (Alan Partridge), Phil Cornwell (Dave Clifton), Barbara Durkin (Susan), Simon Greenall (Michael), James Lance (Ben), Felicity Montagu (Lynn Benfield), Sally Phillips (Sophie), David Schneider (Tony Hayers), Hugh Parker (Policeman)
Synopsis: Bored out of his mind, Alan is left at a loose end while the Linton Travel Tavern it is being refurbished. Alan resorts to various activities to relieve his boredom. From buying tungsten-tipped screws, to walking along the dual carriageway to buy some windscreen washer fluid from the garage. There is no end to him alleviating his boredom. He resorts to getting in contact with his son, Fernando, calling up Curry’s and asking the sales assistant if they want to go for a drink, and playing a practical joke on the staff dressed as a zombie. Eventually, he turns to Michael for some inspiration and they two of them embark on an adventure to steal a traffic cone, only to be caught by the police.
Opening Credits Quote: Yeah. Well, they’re scumbags, aren’t they?
Alan is finishing his morning show and introduces his listeners to his new comedy character, Camp David:
Alan to his listeners: That was one of the biggest stadium bands in the world… R-E-O Speedwagon.
And the time for those who like to tell it in a slightly wacky way, is fifty to six! Or, if you like to develop the idea, seventy past four! Or even… erm… [Works out the time on a calculator] Bear with me. One thousand, two hundred and thirty to twelve!.
I’m joking of course. But the time is ten past five. Let’s say hello to my new comedy character – Camp David. Hello Camp David!
Camp David: Well, hello, Alan.
Alan: And err, what did you have for breakfast this morning?
Camp David: Oooh, mince!
Alan: Ooohmmm, yes, indeed! More from Camp David tomorrow. The time is… let’s not get bogged down in the time again. Simply time to say, ruddy hell, it’s Soft Cell.
The scene opens with a shot of the Travel Tavern lift doors and you can hear Alan singing the Kate Bush song, “Wuthering Heights” on his way down to reception:
Alan: Out on a winding windy moor, we roll and fall in green. You had a temper, like my jealousy too hot, too greedy. How could you leave me, when I needed you? Possessed you, I hated you, I loved you too.
Susan: Bad dreams in the night, you told me I was going to lose…
Alan: Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. That is extraordinary. I mean. To look at you, you’d think you’d sing like and angel. But in actual fact you sound like a trapped boy.
Alan: What a lovely smile. You could have been throwing up all night for all I know, and yet, your smile wouldn’t show it. I dunno, perhaps that’s how you keep your figure? You could tell me anything with that smile and it would seem like, Christmas.
Susan: Well, we are having some major repairs done to the lobby, so I’m afraid all this is going to be out of bounds for the weekend. We decided to go ahead seeing as you were the only guest staying in the hotel.
Alan: Ding dong merrily on high, in heav’n the bells are ringing.
Susan: Ding dong merrily on…
Alan: Don’t sing, Susan! It sounds baaaaad! Just stick to your smile. It’s a lovely smile. You know, with that you could work on the Titanic. You could say “I’m terribly sorry. We’ve run out of life jackets”. And people wouldn’t mind, they’d say, “Thank you for the information. I’ll take my chances. Can I get a coffee? Presumably the buffet is a bit of a free-for-all. Does the rule about women and children first…”
Susan: Alan, why don’t you go and talk to somebody else?
Alan: You see, I don’t mind that, because of the smile. You’d make a very good Judas. Betray me and then kiss me.
Susan: Alright then. I mean, I just don’t want to kiss, I want to go the whole way. If you want me I’ll be round the back.
After speaking to Susan, Alan heads over to Michael, Sophie and Ben where they are taking a break playing charades:
Michael: No, look, look. Right [Makes a sign for four words]
Sophie and Ben: Four words. [Michael improvises being a bird]
Sophie: Big bird? [Michael is making growling noises] Eagle? Hawk? Hawkeye?
Ben: Albatross, bat?
Alan: “The Eagle Has Landed”?
Michael: Aye, it’s “The Eagle Has Landed”
Alan: Michael, can I have a drink please.
Michael: Aye sure. What would you like Mr Partridge?
Alan: Can I have a mineral water please?
Michael: Aye, still or fizzy?
Alan: Err, half and half. [Michael hands Alan a drink and walks off]
Michael: Hey, I’ve got another, right.
Sophie: Four words First word “The” Second word, sleep, awake? No.
Alan: “Day Of The Jackal”, “Day Of The Jackal”
Michael: Aye, it’s “Day Of The Jackal” [At this point, Alan joins in, holds up three fingers] Three words? [Alan improvises washing himself] Err, wash? [Alan gives the thumbs up, then points to himself] My? [Alan gives the thumbs up again, then improvises driving] Car? Oh aye! Wash my car! I’m sorry, Mr Partridge, I’m on me way now. [Turns to Ben and Sophie] I’ve got to go and wash his car.
After telling Michael to wash his car through the medium of charades, Alan heads back over to reception to speak to Sophie:
Sophie: Every thing all right, Mr Partridge?
Alan: Yeah. Yeah. Erm, What’s round the back?
Sophie: A couple of traffic cones and an old mattress.
Alan: Ahh, right.
Sophie: Would you like me to book you in for Christmas dinner?
Alan: It’s May. Sophie, if I’m still here in seven months’ time I think I’m going to be a rather sorry individual.
Sophie: Well, why don’t I book it now and you can always cancel later.
Alan: Yeah, that’s fine.
Alan heads back to his hotel room after booking his spot at the Christmas dinner. He overhears Ben and Sophie kissing at reception:
Sophie: [Gives Ben a kiss, Alan is listening in the lift] Why don’t you come round the back?
Ben: Round the back?
Sophie: Yeah. It’s quiet. Come on, fifteen minutes.
Ben: All right, fifteen minutes. [Alan decides to vacate the lift]
Alan: Err, Ben?
Alan: Could I have a sandwich, please?
Ben: Yeah, sure.
Alan: Cheese, cheese sandwich.
Ben: Right, ok.
Alan: And cooked meat. And a hot egg. And a crescent of crisps, please. And a side clump of cress.
Ben: Right. And you want that now?
Alan: Nar, no, no. Any time. Any time in the next fifteen minutes.
Alan: [Alan, all smug, heads back to the lift] Oooh it gets dark, it gets lonely.
Alan is back in his room, with nothing to do but relax, he decides to listen to one of his own relaxation tapes:
Alan Voice Over: Welcome to tape two of “Let Go, with Alan Partridge” a sequence of easy exercises to relieve stress enhanced by the tropical music of the pan pipes. First, find a quiet place to recline. A bed or a big chair. I want you to imagine you’re lying on the beach, divested of all the trappings of the twentieth century. No mobile phones, batteries out of your pager… [Alan has been uneasy with the way his shoes are positioned and rearranges them] …no clothes. You’re completely naked, or with undergarments perhaps made from bark. You’re all alone, the waves gently licking at your feet, your bark trunks soaking up the water like a sponge… [Alan looks agitated. He gets up again and pushes the shoes under the bed, then relaxes back on the bed] …Your head loosens from the torso and bobs into the distance. Remember the breathing techniques from Tape one. Please relax. I can’t emphasise that enough. All of us experience stress, whether you’re a heart surgeon making vital incisions, or just Dave Bloggs queuing for a rail ticket behind a man who’s buying a travel pass… [Alan leaps up and begins shutting drawers, then straightens a stack of CD’s, then lies back down] …which involves photographs, scissors, forms being filled in, and his Access won’t wipe. You get the picture. Stress like this just won’t go away, and it has to be combated.
[Alan gets up, switches the tape off, and sits on the side of his bed.]
Alan: Sod off.
[Alan picks up his Dictaphone and starts reeling off programme ideas]
Alan: Idea for a programme entitled “Yachting Mishaps”. Some funny, some tragic. Presented by that man who was trapped upside down in his hull eating chocolate.
[Alan looks outside his bedroom window, he notices Sophie and Ben emerging from the bushes. Sophie looks up and notices Alan, they both run off laughing]
Alan: Idea for a programme called “Free Spirits”. No, actually change that to erm, “Bad Attitude”.
Alan, now really bored decides to call his son, Fernando:
Alan: Hello? Oh hello. Erm, I’d like to speak to Fernando Partridge please. It’s his father, it’s his father.
Ahh, hello. Who’s she? Is she your latest er..? Ah, right. You both sound exhausted, have you been running? Urm, I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a drink. Fernando, you’re twenty two years old and you’re spending your Saturday afternoon in bed with a girl, you’re wasting your life. It’s a beautiful day. Take her out to a local fort or a Victorian folly. Yes, of course but. Look, your mum and I, believe me we did it everywhere. You know, in the lounge, in the hall. Behind a large boulder on Helvellyn for my birthday. Actually, that is where you were conceived. We just didn’t take precautions. No, no, we were delighted. I mean at first I was mortified, then you were born and we grew to like you.
I remember I left a tartan flask up there. One of those very fragile ones with a screw-on cup-stroke-cap. These days, they’re much more resilient. Sort of, they took the technology from NASA, basically, which is extraordinary. Modern flasks today are directly linked with the Apollo 11 space mission.
Hello? Sod ‘em.
After Fernando hang’s up on his dad, Alan decides to call Curry’s:
Alan: Hello, is that Curry’s? I’d like to make an enquiry about err, two supplementary auxiliary speakers, to go with my midi hi-fi system. Apropos, achieving surround sound.
Apropos. It’s Latin. You ought to have a basic grasp of Latin if you’re working in Curry’s. Oh you’ve got them. Excellent. Erm, one last thing. What time do you knock off? Fancy going for a drink? Right, ok, just thought I’d ask. Thank you.
Alan leaves his hotel room and wanders downstairs to reception, on his way out for a walk to the petrol station. He begins to shout for some attention:
Alan: Hello? Just… Just going for a walk! To the petrol station. Get some windscreen washer fluid. Anyone… anyone want to join me? Right. Breath of fresh air?
[Cut to a clip where Alan is walking along the motorway, singing “Goldfinger”]
Alan: Goldfinger. He’s the man. The man with the Midas touch, the spider’s touch. Such a cold finger…
[Cuts to the scene of the BP garage]
Alan: Hands up! Give me all our petrol!
Alan: No, just a joke. Have you got any windscreen washer fluid?
Alan: I’ll have twelve bottles please.
Alan: Nice err, nice array of pasties you’ve got today.
Attendant: Thank you.
Alan: I don’t want one, I’m just making small talk.
Attendant: That’s err, £31.20 please.
Alan: Fancy a pint later on?
Attendant: No thanks.
Alan: No. Neither do I. thank you.
[Alan leaves the garage with a plastic bag, continuing to sing “Goldfinger”]
Alan: Such a cold finger. Pretty girl, beware of his web of sin. But don’t go in. And a golden girl knows when he’s kissed her. It’s the kiss of death, from Mr Goldfinger. Duddle-do-do!
Alan, still bored calling reception as he has dismantled his Corby Trouser Press:
Alan: Ah, hello Susan. Errm, slight problem. I was a bit bored, err, so I dismantled my Corby Trouser Press. I, err, I cant put it back together again. Will that show up on my bill? Right. Thanks.
Alan ventures out in his car to buy a bag of tungsten-tipped screws and to pester Lynn:
Alan to Lynn on his headset: Hello, Lynn. Message from Alan. Idea for a television programme based on Michael Palin’s “Pole to Pole”. Err, except I circumnavigate the globe, only driving through countries where they drive on the left. And I do it in a lovely old bull-nosed Morriss. We could call it “Around the World with Alan Partridge, in a Bull-Nose on the Left”. I’m sorry, Lynn. I think that is possibly the worst idea I have ever had. I’m going nowhere, Lynn. Quite literally. I’m on the ring road. My third time round. I’ve just been into B&Q for a bag of tungsten-tipped screws. Never gonna use ‘em, never gonna use ‘em. Meet me in the car park in half an hour, Lynn.
[Cuts to a scene where Lynn and Alan are in Alan’s car]
Lynn: sorry I’m a bit late. I, err, got caught in a taxi that broke down over there. Couple of miles back, I had to walk.
Alan: Was that a lie?
Lynn: No. I’m very hot.
Alan: Ahhhh. You know these are inertia reel seatbelts? They were developed in the, sort of, late ‘60’s, early 70’s basically to enable you to lean forward for things. But in a crash, it does stop you because… Impact! Bang! Lock! Arrrgh! You get bruises, but..
Alan: I’d love to feel an airnag go off in my face. It would be beergh! Boosh! Boosh! That cushion effect on the face. I’ll be honest Lynn, I’m at a loose end, today. That’s why I’m err… That’s why I’m err, talking. Talking. Talk… That’s why I’m talking. Can you cool me down with a hand fan, please Lynn? [Lynn reaches into the door compartment for the hand fan and holds it close to Alan’s face as he is turned away] Did hear about Damon Hill [Alan turns round and the hand fan hits him in the face] Owww! Lynn! Be careful with it.Nearly took my lip off.
Alan and Lynn head into the hotel where Susan, Sophie and Ben are playing game of Gin Rummy.
Susan: Lynn! Come and join us!
Sophie: Play Gin Rummy.
Susan: Make the numbers up, come on.
Alan: I’ll err, Lynn I’ll just go up to my room. Got a bit of work to do [Taps his bag], so… [Alan’s bag opens revealing only a wallet] …I normally have files in here, but I’ve got some in the room. Put it in later. The straps optional. [Alan walks off]
Susan: [To Sophie] Oh, no, no, show Lynn.
Sophie: [Impersonating Alan] Morning Susan, a-haaaa!
[Alan enters the restaurant, clearly unhappy. Swipes his bag above their heads]
Alan: Watch it! [Alan runs off to the lift, everyone is a bit taken back by it]
Alan is back in his room and Lynn heads up to check on him:
Alan: Come in.
Lynn: Would you like a mint?
Alan: No. Yeah, yes.
Alan: I don’t think you should have one Lynn. Considering what’s happened. I tell ya, it’s a good job you were’nt here five minutes ago. Listen to this. Listen, listen.[Alan replays his message to himself on his Dictaphone]
Alan’s Message: Sack Lynn for being unloyal, disloyal. And for joining in fun in a way that excludes her employer. And sack her for being an absolute idiot and inefficient. Lynn, can you call Bill Oddie and… [Switches off his Dictaphone]
Alan: Something else, it fell through.
Lynn: why don’t you come down and play then?
Alan: Play? Lynn, they were doing impersonations of me.
Lynn: Well, they were doing impersonations of everyone, Alan. Even me. It was quite savage.
Alan: Were they really savage? Were they going “Ooh, shall I sit there, Ooh shall I sit there? Ooh, am I like a little mouse?”
Lynn: No, actually. It was a little bit like this “Shall I let you walk all over me? Sorry, Mother, can’t get you out of the bath I’ve got to pop down to Linton Travel Tavern to sort out Alan’s problems!.”
Alan: That’s very good!
Lynn: Thank you.
Alan: Tell them I’ll err, I’ll join in. And to show them I’m not a stick in the mud, I’m just preparing a little joke for them, which should be a lot of fun.
Alan prepares himself and hides behind the reception desk dressed as a zombie and jumps out on an unsuspecting Susan:
Alan: Urrrrgh! [Susan begins screaming in terror, Michael runs behind reception to defend her with his fist ready]
Alan: I’m a zombie! I’m a zombie! I was dressed as a zombie, I’m Alan Partridge!
Michael: Would you come out please Mr Partridge ‘cause guests aren’t allowed behind reception.
Alan: Alright, alright. I know. It was just a joke, alright. It’s backfired.
Ben: Is that blood?
Alan: It’s tomato ketchup.
Susan: Why have you got a shower curtain round your neck?
Alan: I’m a zombie, I don’t know. It’s supposed to be a flap of skin or something.
Susan: Did you pull that off one of the showers?
Alan: No, I checked all the rings to make sure I could re-attach them afterwards. Nothing has been damaged.
Michael: Why have you got, err, biscuits sellotaped to your face?
Alan: Erm, they’re complimentary. It’s supposed to be flaky skin. I’m a zombie.
Sophie: What’s that hanging down between your legs?
Alan: It’s a flex off a mini kettle. It’s supposed to be a tail.
Sophie: Zombies don’t have tails.
Alan: All right, it’s inconsistent! Zombies by their very nature are inconsistent. They’re a mish-mash of different bits.
Ben: No, that’s Frankenstein.
Alan: Right. You’ve made two glaring errors.
Ben: What’s that on your fingers?
Alan: They’re tungsten-tipped screws. Claws. Right, error one… actually they’re quote good for making a point aren’t they?… Error one, right: Frankenstein is the name of the creator, not the monster. Error two: Frankenstein is a zombie, right. He’s a type of zombie. It’s like people who say Tannoy when they mean public address system. Tannoy is a brand name. Why are you all starring at me? I’m not having a go at anyone, I’m having a pop at the undead. Do you see any upset zombies around?
Sophie: Just the one.
Alan: This country!
Alan is sitting in the empty hotel bar having a pint and chatting with Michael who is serving:
Alan: So depressing isn’t it.
Alan: Have you ever thought that suicide might be the answer?
Michael: Well, sometimes, aye.
Alan: Really? When?
Michael: Well, when I’ve seen ya looking all depressed and that, you know.
Alan: Not me! You. Have you ever considered suicide?
Michael: Oh, no. That’s the cowards way oot, man.
Alan: You must have got up to a few pranks in your time?
Michael: Way-Aye! Hey, this one time, right. I was stationed oot in Belize, right, and I had this little macaque monkey as a pet, right. And one day, I came back to me tent, right, and it had eaten all me fags. So I picked it up, and I threw it in the sea.
Alan: You threw a monkey in the sea?
Michael: Well, he’d eaten all me fags, man. You know, it was a big packet of 200 duty-frees, like.
Alan: You threw a monkey in the sea. That’s awful. I was fishing for some sort of funny story. That’s just upsetting.
Michael: Well, you know, I wasn’t thinking straight, right. I just kind of got the red mist in front of me eyes and just grabbed the monkey and hoyed it in the sea.
Alan: Will you stop saying you threw your monkey in the sea. All I can see is a monkey spinning towards the water.
Michael: Well, it didn’t go straight into the water, it bounced of a rock.
Alan: Oh, Michael! That’s such a pointless death. At least when they experiment on them, they sort of get something out of it. Nice perfume or something.
Michael: Aye. You know, I’ve often wondered, right, why is it that they put the perfume in the monkey’s eyes, right? Why not just put it on its wrists, like you know, posh ladies, in department stores?
Alan: It’s just cruel isn’t it. Mind you, if you’ve been to Knowsley Safari Park, and they’re pulling the wipers off your windscreen and nicking your hub-caps, you lose sympathy.
Michael: Maybe the monkeys are trying to collect enough parts together, to make a complete car, right. And they’ll all just pile in it and break through the gates and escape.
Alan: It’s a frightening thought.
Michael: Is this making you feel any better?
Alan: Not really, no.
Alan: You’ve done some crazy things in your life.
Alan: I wish I’d been a bit more spontaneous. Sometime I fell like just going out and, I don’t know, stealing a traffic cone and putting on my head and saying “Look at me I’m a giant witch!”
Michael: Just dee it then, go and steal a cone, man.
Alan: I can’t, that’s outrageous!
Michael: I’ll come with ya. We can be like “Thelma and Louise”. We’ll just steal a traffic cone and then just go off somewhere.
Alan: I don’t want to go off anywhere. I just want to steal a cone and sort of wave it around a bit.
Michael: Aye! I tell you what, I can hold it up to me mouth like a Tannoy, right.
Alan: No. Speaker system.
Michael: Aye. I can just hold it there and shout “Stop telling me what to do!”
Alan: Yeah, yeah. It’s a good idea. I could get Lynn to drive us there. She’s fully comprehensively insured. She’s a named driver, let’s go!
Michael: Howay the lads, man! Come on.
Alan is being questioned by police, roadside and Michael has disappeared from the scene:
Policeman [Into his radio]: Yeah, we’re questioning one bloke. The other bloke seems to have disappeared. There’s a women in the car. Out.
Policeman to Alan: So, let’s get this straight. Your wife was driving.
Policeman: You felt a bit sick.
Policeman: So you asked her to pull over, so you can get a traffic cone to be sick into?
Alan: I didn’t want to be sick on the road. The cars might skid on it.
Policeman: There was another fellow with you. Where’s he gone?
Alan: He ran off over there. He got scared and ran away. He was in the army and I think he saw people being blown up.
Policeman: Do you want to know what I think? I think you’ve got a very vivid imagination.
Alan: I wasn’t trying to steal a traffic cone.
Policeman: I’m not saying you’re stealing it. I’ve not said that, why are you saying that? Why are you saying steal?
Alan: Because, to an innocent bystander, it could, may look like traffic cone theft. And I’m an innocent bystander, and to me it looks like traffic cone theft.
Policeman: But it’s not.
Alan: It’s not.
Policeman: What’s your name?
Alan: Carr. Bill Carr.
Policeman: Bill Carr. Where do you live, Bill? What’s your address?
Alan: King Road. King Road.
Policeman: Is there a number?
Alan: TEN!… King Road in Ipswich.
Policeman: Where are you going now?
Alan: I’m going to go home and just probably go straight to bed, and just keep out of trouble.
Policeman: Good. Good. We’ll let this go. But I don’t want to see you here again. All right?
Alan: OK.Thank you.
[Alan gets in the back of the car]
Alan: [To Lynn] Right, go. Just drive away, drive away normally. [Lynn panics as she starts the car] Stop panicking. Start then engine. [The car alarm horn blasts out] Switch the alarm off! Lynn! [Alan leans over to turn the alarm off and starts the car] Lean back! Stay still. I was technically in charge of a motor vehicle then, I could have been done for drink driving.
Alan is back in the hotel with Lynn, after his confrontation with the police:
[Alan falls into his daze, fantasizing about lap dancing for Tony Hayers]
Alan: Would you like me to lap dance for you? My peep-hole Pringle is modelled on an SAS balaclava. Sweet feet. Do you like my cones? They’re little ones. I got them from a cycling test centre. I’ve got a clean licence. Your’s is dirty. You’ve got six points. I’ve got two. Points.
[Alan snaps out of his daze]
Alan: Oh dear. Tonight, I was that close, that close to being infamous. I don’t want to be infamous, I want to be fa-mous. Famous. It’s like the Rudyard Kipling poem, “If”. You know that? If you do x, y and z, Bob’s your uncle. Do you want a lift to the cab rank?
Lynn: Oh yes, thank you. I would.
Alan: Mind you, it’s only a 15-minute walk.
Lynn: Yes, mmm.
Alan: Right. Be careful, ‘cause there’s no lights on the dual carriageway.
[Lynn leaves and Alan heads to his room, where he spots Michael in reception]
Alan to Michael: Ahh, there you are.
Michael: Aye-aye, Mr Partridge.
Alan: That was a bit of a close shave, wasn’t it?
Michael: Aye, it was a bit, eh.
Alan: You disappeared pretty sharpish.
Michael: Aye. Scalded cat man, I was away.
Alan: Can I have a couple of eggs for breakfast tomorrow?
Michael: Aye, certainly.
Alan: And I’ll like you to lay them, you chicken.
Susan: Oh, hello, Alan
Alan: [In the lift with Susan]: Hello, Susan. Third floor?
Susan: Yes, thank you.
Alan: Right, well…
Susan: Are you getting out here, or are you going all the way with me?
Alan: I’m getting out here.
Susan: All right. Goodnight, Alan.
Alan: This country.
Alan is at Radio Norwich, finishing his morning show. Dave Clifton begins his breakfast show and teases Alan about his run-in with the police:
Alan to his listeners: That was The Police with “Do Do Do, Da Da Da”, their gibberish classic. And my tribute to Her Majesty’s Police. It’s nearly seven o’clock, this is Dave Clifton.
Dave: Yes, indeed, good morning. My name’s Dave Clifton, and there goes Alan Partridge – cone, but not forgotten. Are you off to see a film like “Cone-an the Barbarian”?
Alan: Yeah, yeah, good one.
Dave: And then watch a bit of TV, like “Cone Dancing”.
Alan: Yeah. Not so good, but fine.
Dave: Oh come on Alan, what’s the matter with you? Cone you take a joke?
Alan: Oh, fuck off!
Dave: Actually, I am speechless. Dave Clifton is actually speechless. I don’t believe you just said that.
Alan: You don’t sound it, I wish you were.
Dave: I am. I really don’t know what to say. I find it really difficult to find the words…
Alan: Try saying nothing!
Dave: You and I both know that dead air is a crime. And I think it’s terrible that you have to fill it with swearing on your show.
Alan: Unfortunately, Dave, you are bang wrong. It’s one minute past seven. It’s your show. You’re responsible for the output. I’m technically a guest and you failed to control me. Read the small print in your cone-tract.
Dave: From Go West…
Dave: This is “Call Me”.