Alan Partridge's Audiobook Two Zero Two Soundboard Edit

A bad breathed copper shouts in my face and I turn my head away from what I think is the odor of Walker smoky bacon, which I usually quite enjoy.

A bear like homosexual, he was well connected and well to do in a way that puts some people massively on edge.

A beef tomato. By which time the novelty of being able to equate my child's size to the mass of a common fruit or vegetable. It really started to razz me off.

A broad Cheshire cheese smile lights up my face.

A chilling and far from delicious cocktail of neglect solitude.

A Chinese widower who owns a laundry next to Wallace Shoes on exchange St in Norwich.

A close shave with a local lollipop lady tells me I'm wrong.

A couple of coffees and seven hash Browns later, I'm in the toilets.

A cut out of a big letter S on his dartboard.

A deafening roar goes up around the station as people realise I've shelved my retirement plans.

A decade his junior and arranged similar girlfriends for six or seven of us.

A fact that may or may not have been documented and photographed by my assistant.

A few months earlier I'd have returned to a pretty empty nest.

A few practice leaps have banished the nerves that kept me awake for much of the night.

A fortnight later I was in TV centre with my lawyer.

A fun chat with Sue about her life, loves and crime watch career, followed by an open Q&A with myself and no topic will be off limits.

A glass of beer and a piece of toast on Christmas morn.

A God-given duty to help others. It was incumbent upon me, Alan Partridge, to summon up everything I'd learned while bouncing back.

A grubby man has rushed forward and is shoving the castle out of the way.

A journeyman DJ called Dave Clifton outside Oddbins.

A line that even at the time I thought was pretty good for someone who probably didn't get any A levels.

A local man don't recall his name. I think it was either Jim or Tom.

A lot of nonsense is spoken about germs being passed from one to another.

A love letter from one man to his troubled bisexual fuck buddy.

A memo from Gordale convinced me that this was a hugely radical step.

A metallic graphite grey with a black fabric interior.

A name that was such a brazen attempt to appear first in telephone directories, I couldn't help but be impressed.

A new city, a new job, a new desk system, even a new brother-in-law who could speak clearly and wasn't over affectionate. With my kids, I was Cocker hope.

A new show on a new channel and time I felt, to experiment with a new look.

A one stop shop providing everything a business might need.

A passing member of staff have been alerted by its unusually loud Ding.

A Phoenix Stainless Steel 4 burner. It's actually a lovely bit of kit.

A piece of infantile word play that most right minded abusers would dismiss as rubbish.

A pistol must experience the bittersweet bliss of fulfilled destiny at the moment of discharge before quite rightly, being destroyed.

A program which I quite rightly despised.

A protagonist delta, really shoddy hand by hard hearted parents.

A relatively straightforward task that took longer than it should have because my hands were by now very, very sweaty and it was hard to produce a clear print.

A result, I later realized of a clandestine word search puzzle done under my duvet after lights off.

A rich collection of amusing anecdotes about my experiences as a sports reporter.

A Royal Norfolk Fairfa getting ogre of a man.

A sexy trio of models I called Christmas crackers.

A single bead of sweat sprinted down my face, skirting around my temple and pausing at the jaw before throwing itself to its death.

A single bead of sweat trickles down my back like a rescue party sent to fetch help.

A small pink tongue emerges from a man's mouth.

A solemn promise, a vow that had been made to me more than three decades before.

A strip light flickers and buzzes as a rat scuttles across the floor.

A sudden shot of fear ripped through my pre pubic body and now I did do a Trump.

A team meeting was hastily called and we embarked on brainstorming.

A terrifying proposition if you imagine them all running at you across a field or chanting, Ging gang. Gooly again and again and again and again, but slightly louder each time.

A trait I demonstrated when grabbing the first interview with Javelin or Steve Backley after quite a lovely throw at Crystal Palace.

A trait subsequently adopted by US talk shows such as Letterman and Conan O'Brien.

A warmer of heart than their bitter London counterparts, with their negative equity and their stab wounds.

A week before the show, I'd ordered Glenn to get a haircut.

A young boy misunderstands and thinks I've aimed the insult towards his mother.

About their vision for the show and ITV's keen interest.

About to be incapacitated by one of Bernard Matthews henchman.

Academically suicidal, given that mock exams were just weeks away and a personal affront to Mr Bevan.

According to Jim, she used to beat him with a plastic hose pipe.

According to listener figures, it was only the third most popular slot on the station.

Actually had a false leg and was using a hollowed prosthetic limb to hide a specially adapted American bolt action savage 120 rifle.

Actually, I find that it's most pleasurable to give STD's to kids. The younger the better.

Admittedly in a chicken and chips scenario the spoon is less important, but I could sure have done with a knife and fork.

Admittedly, I left the studio a little shaken with a hurt hand, but my spirits were up.

Advertising the fact that they don't proves they're either vain or thick.

Advised new listeners that major laughs were guaranteed.

After a few minutes of being cuddled by great Aunt Susie, we'd managed to reduce my crying down to a manageable SOB.

After a few more glasses of beer, I put on a CD of Christmas songs.

After a stern word from Carol, the intervention continued in earnest and I'm delighted to say it was a success. Tim's barely touched a drop since then, apart from wine.

After all, anyone reading the manuscript would quickly see that snapping up the rights was a total no brainer.

After all, breasts are just sacks of fat at the end of the day.

After all, Caesar didn't rest on his he wore them on his head.

After all, for some time Jimmy Savile lived in a caravan. Absolutely insist it was a lifestyle choice.

After all, get through this and they were staring down the barrel of an investment in the high three figures.

After all, my fallen brothers would soon have an exciting new life as recycled paper.

After another one of Denton's gags had fallen horribly flat.

After several years of lobbying, I've managed to ban children entirely.

After several years, Glenn and I managed to patch up our differences.

After the 15 second blast of intro music, every breath you take, the police with Sting stopped.

After the death of newly installed BBC Commissioner Chris Feather and a mean spirited and unnecessary investigation by the BBC.

Afterwards I went to congratulate Adam Walters, but he was tied up in a meeting, sitting still while the BBC controller of editorial policy, John Wilson, paced and shouted incoherently.

Afterwards, Joe Modesty suggested that this was more to do with their age than his act.

Aided in no small part by the resignation of government Minister Sandra Peakes in our third show.

Aishe began by checking the systems of all three toilets.

Alan asking sports questions equals bloody good sports interview.

Alan describes art a Partridge in a pun tree.

Alan Gordon Partridge was box office.

Alan looks down to see that she's offering him a strange and unusual confectionery.

Alan Partridge had the gumption to look beyond the others of this particular swine and monetize his talent via other channels.

Alan Partridge is not, and never has been, an employee of the BBC.

Alan she seemed to be saying. It's all very well-being knowledged as Mr Sport.

Alan wasn't perfect. There were a couple of minor ****les, which I won't bore you with now.

Alan, he said again. I wasn't sure about the question. Slash, cool thing.

Alan, I love you, she kept shouting. Sonia, not my assistant.

Alan, I suggest you stop hanging around the place.

Alan, sorry, they kept saying, but looking at each other rather than at me.

Alan, they read you, said a voice in my cans.

Alan, you've done your time on hospital radio. It's time to spread your wings.

Album stops his Husky European rap singing slowly fading into the crisp morning air. And then?

All I ask is that they not be used for Halloween. Have a bit of respect.

All in all, Sonia had that indiscriminate, fun loving quality that you often find with people from post Soviet regimes.

All of them laugh and although I only later work out what the joke is.

All the gym work had left me with a body that would not have looked out of place in a magazine for men who liked to look at other men.

All the naysayers who try to downplay the very real horror of chocolate addiction.

Allowing myself to be sprayed in the face and body with a high pressure jet of public appreciation.

Almost as if he knew there were only minutes left on my car park ticket.

Alongside me was glamorous assistant Susie Dent, better known as the resident lexicographer from Countdown.

Also in the pilot episode, he wages a war against the travelling community who almost never have the correct documentation for their vehicles.

Also on the show, how long have you kept a fizzy drink? Fizzy 4?

Also, it's not a sustainable business model, and at least by charging a fee you cut out the true bottom feeders.

Although as a result of 10 hours of unbroken speaking, I'd also lost my voice.

Although blessed with catlike coordination, something made me lose my bearings.

Although he could have eliminated the obvious ambiguity by saying Alan Partridge or Master Partridge.

Although I always think of heaven as a kind of members club for do gooders.

Although I often regale dinner parties blow by blow with the arguments advanced by Capricorn one and JFK.

Although I reserve the right to be deeply suspicious of anyone who is unilaterally kind to me.

Although if pushed, I'd say if the activity remains in a private dwelling or hotel.

Although it was only 9:00 PM, the party had completely wound down.

Although misinterpreted by some of my peers as reluctance to cut the apron strings and live independently.

Although not official partied merchandise, these masks are nevertheless a lot of fun.

Although on occasions I've shared Mike space with a girl whose name I think was Zoe.

Although others routinely mistook me for Aman Holmes.

Although some of it will inevitably have spilled into the nearby Burtons.

Although still hoarse with anger, I must admit I was deeply embarrassed by that.

Although the gay man, Scott McLean, was only 10 at the time and probably unaware of his sexual trajectory.

Although the loss of such a talented bookworm was a major blow.

Ample time for one or more of them to be involved in a serious Rd traffic accident or develop a degenerative brain disease.

An activity that is sexy and hygienic.

An aficionado of US shock jocks and personality, deejays.

An appealing lineup, certainly. And yes, there were a few glitches, but most of them occurred in the final four minutes of the show, so I'm still satisfied that we've produced a piece of high quali...

An idea subsequently stolen wholesale by Jimmy Hill Sunday supplement.

And a blast of the winner takes it all came through the speakers before she could switch it off.

And a bonus thanks to a the webcam and B his striking resemblance to Clyde from every which way but loose.

And a funny sort of way the contents were just as explosive as a powdered acetone peroxide.

And a generous dollop of smash as a buttery finish that sets the plate off beautifully.

And a genuinely impressive two-story McDonald's.

And a man who looks very much like Tony Hayes, but isn't Tony Hayes because Tony Hayes is dead.

And a quiz show for Maltese television that was based on blockbusters.

And a submission of a full portfolio of my work for him to offer me the job.

And air dropped me into Radio North Norfolk.

And all thanks to a detour away from the inevitable jam back at G****s Hill.

And all the while, I'd sing along at a steady increasing volume.

And although the exact level of commitment from these channels was hard to gauge, they had at least taken my calls.

And although the reporter had to issue a full apology and retraction for the red slash yellow card error.

And an altogether different type in my knowledge. Life's a monster.

And another time when I had to pick up a gagool that had found its way onto the Charlton Athletic team bus.

And another, until soon the entire carriage had joined the applause.

And anyone who thinks it's designed solely to haul me over the minimum word count specified by my publisher.

And As for the chicken, it was just a question of trying to drag the meat off the bone by using the spoon as a paw.

And as he ran up and down the wine bar, high fiving a random selection of other jealous males.

And as I look out onto the small but high quality crowd.

And as I'm slurping down a mouthful of sweet brown cereal.

And as I've been blessed with a superb personality.

And as Sally wasn't ready to head home, we moved on to a restaurant serving authentic Japanese nosh.

And as she'd only been running for 53.16 seconds. And you British record, by the way.

And as such I became a valuable and well known asset to Radio Norwich.

And as the memories swirled around like the train, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph.

And asked Backley some searching questions about his training regime.

And asked him to meet me there and engage me in high level chat to impress hayers.

And asking some searching questions about our indemnity insurance. But I don't think anyone seriously believed we'd been responsible.

And at last, at long, long last, when we finally made it back to our digs.

And basked in a euphoric glow of genuine happiness.

And besides, if he did suddenly get a craving for sausages on his way back.

And burst into uncontrollable but still annoying sobs.

And by closing time, well, let's just say Farley's kids weren't long for this world either. We'd all be crying with laughter.

And by the time someone started banging on the door, wondering what all the noise was about.

And came back in wearing a bowler hat and an umbrella, saying I'm going to work in London while marching up and down.

And cancelling waste such as refreshments and travel costs.

And Chelsea are about to win the First Division title.

And Dad joined me in one of the first high fives that knowledge had ever seen.

And dead, locking her front door behind her, as all old people obsessively insist on doing.

And delivered a stinging broadside against younger deejays and station controllers.

And didn't really have my heart set on working with Auntie anyway.

And disappeared off into the sunset, slashed down the paint tile.

And even though I could definitely have gone back to a warm welcome.

And explained that she'd been having an affair with her gym instructor.

And Farley was always there or thereabouts. All the rest of us got were crumbs off his table.

And for afters, their cat calls were a depressing reminder of my own father's suffering.

And for all their handshaking and tambourine bashing and shouty singing, many of them are staggeringly hardhearted when it comes to sins of the flesh.

And for the billionth time, I didn't accuse Curtis of being drunk. I merely speculated that he might be drunk.

And for those of you unfamiliar with the denominations of crisp bags.

And freely from my face, neck, pits, back and pants.

And gave the hospital staff an emotional, heartfelt guarantee.

And give me some great advice on how to remain still for long periods of time and go completely undetected in undergrowth and shrubbery.

And had a loathing of other presenters that I found quite wonderful.

And had decided that when the stations FM license came up for renewal in 2006.

And had full sex had it not been for the fact that I was expected at home for 6:00 to 6:30?

And had ideas above her slash Norwich station.

And had some daring out there ideas, few of which made it through compliance.

And handed bars out to the kids as they walked home.

And happy to buy chalk treats for all of us every Friday.

And having it off with Grace Jones, the first black woman I have ever slept with.

And he had quite enough of the idiots with the swastikas, and they were idiots.

And he in a way that made me want to thump him in the guts.

And he was walking around all uppity and pretending to like art.

And how glad I was that I'd insisted on spreading those 36 hours across the month because we had problems a couple of weeks after the death.

And I actually wanted to help with the healing process, not least because it was dragging me down a bit.

And I brought to the subject of returning to radio knowledge in A roll over and above and away from my erstwhile sports brief.

And I did not want to end up with their tea drinking equivalent of AIDS.

And I do have the profile to be the subject of a BBC One Saturday night prank.

And I explain, the weather's going to take a turn any minute. Massive chance of rain today. Massive.

And I have to admit my own shortcomings as a spouse.

And I knew damn well that its fortunes represented an accurate bellwether for BBC Two as a whole.

And I never dropped the fact bomb of her bulletins ever again.

And I remember I did use those exact words.

And I returned to school to face what proved to be a pretty massive bollocking.

And I stayed for more than three weeks, returning home only because mum and dad had come back from their holiday in Brittany and it was time to go.

And I think most reasonable people would agree that by allowing that to happen, the NHS Trust effectively voided my promise.

And I used to alternate between rooms one and four, leaving 2 fernandos and three denises untouched in case they dropped by and needed to go to sleep.

And I was bowled over to learn that Graham had been the first person in Norwich to own a car with a catalytic converter.

And I was buggered if my music was going to damage cupboard hinges.

And I was invited to take over his post breakfast to lunchtime slot.

And I'd frequently arrange for a glass of wine and an autographed napkin to be sent over.

And I'd made the ohh of the word you into a :).

And I'd seen her leaving a local hotel the other week with a man who wasn't her husband.

And I'm being held captive in the home of deranged superfan Jed Maxwell.

And I'm not saying I want her to at all. But if she ever did have the guts to pick up the phone and admit she was wrong and leaving her new lover.

And I'm now incredibly nervous and give voice to this in the form of a very loud gulp.

And I'm proud to be friends with a homosexual.

And I've been impressed by his way with people and his knowledge of ELO.

And ideally with the musical backing of a 22 piece house band.

And if people to this day shouted at me in the street, or when I'm trying to pay for my shopping, or if I ring up a call centre to renew car insurance on the doctor's waiting room.

And if they happen to be accompanied by the family dog, I'm sorry, but that dog was going down.

And if you do buy snacks on board, just keep your receipts and we'll get you reimbursed within 28 days.

And if you've enjoyed listening to my story.

And imagine what could have become of every trounced copier bouncing back.

And in a funny, kooky, zany kind of way.

And in my tipsiness I began to talk in gushing terms about her.

And in personal terms, did they ring the changes?

And in the last episode, we'd see him put in the final piece and suddenly.

And intermittent athletes foot. So as I say, no, no funny business at all the.

And it issued a rod of arrow into the arm of a female steward.

And it was a time of free thinking, free love, and in my case.

And it was quickly apparent that listeners had warmed to this new digitalin Partridge.

And it was when we did that I took another giant leap into the warm waters of adulthood.

And it's not an unattractive lady, lolly, I must say, one that I'm sure every man here would dearly like to lick.

And it's really hard to work out how he feels the series has gone.

And its supercardioid microphone produces crystal clear sound.

And Itvs Asplan company, the only serious rival for the chat show crown.

And just under nine months, I will be welcoming a child into the world in much the same way as I would one day welcome the guests onto my primetime BBC chat show.

And like a civilian hospital targeted by a contestant on skirmish.

And like billions of Chinese children, I consequently had to endure a home life of intense loneliness.

And looked so sad that I started to cry on her behalf and then on my behalf. And then I didn't know on whose behalf I was crying on because I was making a right mess.

And marched up and down my landing to stop the cavalry by Jonah Lewis.

And me returning to my normal accent, Sonia had retained hers.

And Michael had agreed to perform because he was in his words.

And my last year of living with Carol Anglian Water had against my will.

And my listeners were grateful that they were getting more Alan in their mid morning diet.

And no, they won't offer wholesale rates to passing members of the public.

And not only came with a complimentary shoe horn, but also entitled the bearer to free alterations on every suit purchased.

And now, as I bulldoze them into a mass grave with a fag in my mouth.

And on my insistence, we're making three shows a day, six days a week.

And on the other side of the Atlantic, President JFK Kennedy.

And one of those pyros that writes in different colours depending on which button you flick down.

And order a couple of less senior people to assemble everyone in front of the foyer.

And other things like cameras and monitors differ as well.

And outside, cars zoom up and down the road.

And people kept adding another piece of straw, and another piece and another until I couldn't carry anymore.

And people might subconsciously think of me, Alan Partridge.

And pledge not to economise, self transformation diagnosis ever again.

And put it directly on primetime telly on the Emerald Isle.

And quickly scare away any remaining children.

And reason the only way to stay writing people's consciousness and appear important.

And remember, we entered choppy waters pretty soon after my balls dropped.

And rub their eyes as if greeting a new day. Production managers whistled as they worked.

And run after work Forward Solutions courses for a special corporate rate of £299.98 per head excluding VAT.

And said it overseen a major organizational restructure which I wouldn't understand.

And saw no reason why I couldn't stay among the Lamberts for the rest of my life.

And she looked at me through the windscreen and reversed very proficiently onto the road.

And she looked so happy and proud. It made my throat constrict and fill up with tears.

And she responded by Downing her glass of wine and getting another one.

And shocked me with a loud bark of. Be careful with that.

And should have begun to wonder if there was some subconscious link between my self-confidence.

And sit in front of the record player, treating my fellow carousers to the latest cuts.

And smashed on the floor in a hail of crumbs and redness and cream.

And so here I go, beginning my long descent back to Earth.

And so inexorably fatter and more housebound.

And so it is that he forges ahead with his live shows, long past the point that he derives any enjoyment from them.

And so it was that by the end of our pleasantly greasy breakfast.

And so it was that six months later, I was included on a round Robin Circular memo to BBC reporters.

And so this young, neglected but resourceful young man would guzzle down knowledge like kids would guzzle down fizzy pop.

And so would the relationship, visibly curdling by the hour.

And so, before heading to the car park where my assistant and some sandwiches were waiting for me.

And so, with fewer work commitments, a slimmer physique, fresher breath.

And sought solace in the first class countryside of Norfolk.

And spending a cool 3 grand on signage, mugs and T-shirts.

And spent the best part of 1/4 of an hour visualizing myself in a view to a kill.

And summary then I was becoming a better all round broadcaster day by day.

And sure, maybe there's something glamorous about a booze man swigging whiskey on a sidewalk.

And that I will be bidding home riddance to my sidekick in a matter of weeks.

And that realization that these people would stab me and spit on my jolting corpse probably did colour my approach to the general public.

And that sense of worth was a shot in the arm for a young, thrusting Alan Partridge.

And that was a mound of slag I did not want to be on.

And that's despite the very real danger of coming away with a dirty back.

And the ability to branch out.

And the arrows out. The arrow is out. It's been plucked from the woman like a pointy Excalibur. Well done, that man.

And the creeping concern that I'm out staying my welcome.

And the death actual of Tory Pierre, Lord Morgan of Glossop in our final show.

And the early days I toyed with the idea of starting a relationship with her. Yet the more I thought about it.

And the fact that the police were called says more about genuine paedophiles than it does about me.

And the far superior M1 Abrams and Challenger ones.

And the jigsaw player is also a swallow.

And the meeting merely confirmed my long held desire to continue my career well away from the BBC.

And the monkey whose wrecked him? He forced his hand up. Represented coal miners or something.

And the pass of mainstream acclaim had been all that it emitted.

And the shop? It was like a newsagent, a supermarket and a Halfords all rolled into one.

And the sliced potato snacks had lopped a fair bit off my appetite.

And the tender pippity plop plop of her shit hitting the dirt.

And then came the news that the program was about to be transferred to BBC Television.

And then I fished my trunks from the well of piss with a fountain pen.

And then I she checked in the loft during which I she fell from the stepladder and cracked my her head on the wall.

And then one day came on the hour.

And then place me center table for a Christmas feast.

And then reached inside to extract the papery contents.

And then responding to Tony, here's have a GO intervention by belting him a couple of times too.

And then share a radio phone in on it that informs and entertains.

And then when I made good my escape from her cervix, see chapter one.

And there I'd been, drunk on the aisle of celebrity.

And there weren't two of them, but there are about half a dozen.

And there's a certain entertainment value in watching Baptiste Whoop and holler like he's got chilies in his unders.

And there's no way I'm prepared to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair.

And they undertook an immediate review, making hardheaded decisions.

And they're only slightly put off by Nando's bewildering ordering system.

And this explained my somewhat distracted response when phoned with the good news.

And this time it clattered onto the liner, where the stem snapped.

And those that didn't each contain the phrase self-serving or vanity project.

And though I sit here today with a heavy heart and a weary soul.

And though the colourful lifestyle of one of them certainly put him in the at risk category, he wouldn't go fully blown till 2003.

And thoughts tumbled around my head like trainers in a washing machine.

And transmitted using a digital modulation scheme.

And understatement alert. He was seriously funny.

And urban DJ Lisa Lanson brought a westward style glamour to the proceedings.

And used such a hilarious mix of tenses. It gets the ball and he's gone and kicked it.

And waits as his entire herd of butterflies greets him by, Flitter fluttering their way over.

And walked around bouncing a tennis ball against a wall as I thought out loud.

And was an absolute whiz at buffing shoes tying Neckerchiefs.

And was and is a damn sight more of a talent than the likes of Tony Robinson or Andy Marr.

And was genuinely giddy at the prospect of my speech being delivered as a binary code.

And was keen to both track its growth and plot its destruction.

And we could begin to enjoy learning about the different stages of the fetuses growth.

And we were both absolute naturals at the thing where you lean on the Barstool in a way that means you're sitting and standing at the same time.

And we were to man the Elizabethan craft fair in period dress.

And we'll be following every twang rushka drawing of what is shaping up to be a classic British archery championships.

And we're not cooking, or tending to his gardens or completing jigsaws or finding words or watching rare wetland birds.

And what I fear may be the first stage of some sort of ritualistic sacrifice.

And what of Denton? Well, we bumped into each other in the King's arms three weeks ago.

And when I pushed open the nearest door and entered the room.

And when she handed me the menus, my response had been withering.

And when you're being spoken of in the same breath as the country's leading farmyard to table strategist.

And which ideas are graded depending on how loudly they're shouted?

And while he feels it worked less well in the section where I'm being interrogated by the police after shooting a man.

And while I'm certainly not angling for a reconciliation with a woman like Carol.

And while no one would be silly enough to claim that my trademark mix of great chat, decent pop and amusing homemade jingles.

And while other people who'd heard about Ben were saying no way.

And while the lady steward squeals like an impaled but quiet pig.

And while the woman was unimpressed, Denton and I fell about.

And whooped before lowering my voice out of respect.

And with a cooking surface of 70 centimeters times 45 centimetres.

And with that quip I revved my engine ready to speed off.

And with that, I went off to the bathroom to clear my head.

And with the internal inquiry into the regrettable death of Fobbs McAllister still ongoing.

And would have broken a lesser man, like a gingerbread man being thwacked with a meat tenderizer.

And would make the show myself in exchange for a hefty development and production fee.

And would represent an exciting chapter in both my career and the future of Radio North Norfolk.

And yes, Ella's does offer a moving discourse about hope being a buddy.

And yes, he was slovenly and coasted through several years of his career and wasn't a student of the genre in the way that I was.

And yet some people have accused me of intolerance or, even worse, homophobia.

And you can only understand convention when you're stuck rigidly to it 99% of the time. That's basic.

And you could instantly offend a fairly meaty percentage of patients.

And you join me at the annual funfair of North Norfolk Digital.

And you wipe out the hospital and are back down to 100 pounds.

Andy Bandal, Joe Cows, Alan Roland, Richard Toms, Justin Parker, Knoll Scott, and Daniel Groves.

Angrily quizzing my assistant on the quality of each day's show and sending tapes to Denise and Fernando to flag up anything that sounds dated or foggy like.

Answering general knowledge questions to gain territorial advantage.

Any sport that had been around had scabbed up and dropped off.

Anyway, after that, talk naturally turned to motor vehicles.

Anyway, I think she's reverted to her Polish maiden name. She's a teacher in Nantwich.

Anyway, Nick was helming Radio Norwich and had always been a pretty solid guy.

Apache Communications, Apache Productions, Apache office supplies.

Apart from a truly distasteful dalliance with a menopausal member of staff years earlier.

Apart from the one about Ungodliness and the one about Mormons.

Apparently, as you've filled up, you could actually feel the power of the gush through the handle.

Are you OK? Says a passing French woman who's obviously learnt to speak English.

Armed to the nines with high grade weaponry and question cards.

Armed with a new understanding of London Broadcasting, I was able to provide a kind of directors commentary on current affairs TV shows.

Arrogantly assuming that their thanks and praise had been heaped at me.

As a combination of fruit juice, fried food and hot coffee settled in our contented tummies.

As a customer, I was, in part paying her wages.

As a disabled guy wants to get into the parking space.

As a haven for businessmen, choristers was quite unique.

As a result, Sal and myself were pretty miffed as we browsed the menu.

As American peacekeeping soldiers scream when given back chat by unarmed natives.

As deejaying gigs go, it was far harder than people realise.

As family, friends who are friends with our family, theirs was a loving home.

As far as they were concerned, their new colleague had just accused them all of having aids.

As he queued up the backing track to Crest of a wave and told him to.

As he struggles to break free of the tabloid moorings.

As humans of both sexes hurried and scurried about, I nodded in quiet satisfaction.

As I began to crawl, walk, and then express myself through dance.

As I caught the olive, which admittedly had been in the air for a long time, in my mouth.

As I drag my nails back and forth across the base of my gullet.

As I entered the pub, I instantly spotted the source of the mirth.

As I gather speed, my side parting lifts off my scalp. I can fly, it must be thinking.

As I have done for everyone of my broadcasts over some 30 years.

As I pretended to have an itchy cheek so I could wipe away another Fleck of spittle from my face.

As I read the traffic and travel or introduced a clip from my favorite goon show LP.

As I sang along, eyes closed, I imagined it played to the applause of a studio audience.

As I sat effortlessly reading a book aimed at 11 to 12 year olds.

As I slept was on an outward bound course to Snowdonia when I hugged a man in a sleeping bag, but that was only for warmth.

As I stood there drinking in the whole incredible experience, one thing was abundantly clear to me.

As I strode the burning station, salvaging a listenership here.

As I struggle to pole vault my body gradually towards the studios.

As I walked on the set that day, I had no inkling whatsoever as to what a seminal moment this was.

As I was able to spend 30 minutes venting down the phone to her.

As I write these words, I'm noisily chomping away on not one.

As if bookending my short and ultimately unhappy life.

As if my career should die just because Forbes has.

As it turns out, though, I was right to be anxious about the editorial meeting.

As my mind scans its database for a Plan B.

As one of the most trusted voices in Norfolk in North Norfolk.

As such, he was often targeted by youths, vagrants and Scots.

As the guest ale flowed, we'd pot how to bring him to his knees.

As the pain causes up through my body, I Yelp like a shot dog.

As the process of clearing and then restocking my workspace was an absolute pleasure.

As the team screamed at each other, I noticed that my favorite CD, ABBA Gold, was on the stereo.

As the train came in, we got aboard and sat down next to one another.

As they jiggled and shackled their way into the jaws of a state-of-the-art pumping machine.

As they went to work with their hoof picks, shedding blades and dandy brushes.

As this thought had been so long, I decided to repeat my question. Tony, I said. Are you gonna put this baby on the gogglebox or what?

As well as being aerodynamically unfeasible, wings sprouting from the shoulder blades would pull the rib cage backwards and gradually suffocate the Angel, A cause of death that's similar, ironicall...

As with all feminists, she combined a hatred of being sexualised with a fixation that everything is to do with sex.

Asking for applications to join the team of a new Radio 4 current affairs show.

Assist a station with a far more refined listenership, but in need of a kick in the arm.

Assuming it was nothing more dangerous than indigenous pop.

At a BBC party that autumn, I introduced myself to a commissioning editor by the name of Adam Walters.

At a crisis meeting in early November, we battled to find a solution. The closest we came with the idea of installing caravan portaloos in the boot.

At best, it provoked an indifferent grant. At worst, it would cost me friendships.

At first for digital radio anywhere in Norfolk, Norfolk.

At least my gun making friends seemed to suggest Lord Byron's beautiful and ballistically awesome pistols.

At the height of the show's popularity, I was receiving 5, sometimes 6 pieces of fan mail per quarter.

At the same time, I hope to give me a chink of insight into the mindset of the travelling community.

At the same time, Macomb contracted glandular fever.

At the same time, my other business interests were blossoming like the small flowers that grow on trees each spring.

At this point, I was still toying with the idea of joining a gospel choir.

At times caring, at times distant and with little or no interest in the individuals under my charge. And believe me.

Avian in nature, I think perhaps it's a birdsong, a crow maybe.

Awaiting news of a second series from the BBC whilst simultaneously needing to fulfill commitments to Radio Norwich meant that Linton Travel Tavern seemed an obvious choice.

Back to me. I was becoming known for my no nonsense interview style and my never say die attitude.

Back. And my God, was that the time? I had just five minutes to get to work.

Banging on the door of a BP garage at 2:00 AM, pleading for the hit of Toblerone and getting it.

BBC One was crying out for KMKY.

Because as a laundryman, he doesn't think like a police officer.

Because Clifton has failed to get out of my way and has effectively broken my fall.

Because his bandmates are currently suing him for unpaid earnings and he needs the money.

Because I actually had a really good day at the paper mill.

Because I am about to blow the lid off one of the most explosive incidents in my entire life.

Because I got a red receipt in my e-mail inbox.

Because I knew my assistants racist mother had just died of lung cancer.

Because if he'd been 20 years older, he would have been up in Crown Court. And quite right, too.

Because it often have dark thoughts rounded off with a little joke.

Because it's quite tiring to write like that and I've just had a mug of hot milk.

Because they don't want housewives to know how strong they really are.

Because this year of all years, with rumours circulating that I'm past it.

Before a short hop on the A140 saw me join the AK47 and later the A 17.

Before a show, he would spend 15 minutes purring, licking his imaginary paws and hanging his head over a bin trying to bring up fur balls.

Before a stern lecture to self in my bathroom mirror.

Before Channel 4's insufferable Grand Designs program.

Before he left, he was good enough to take a photo of me for posterity.

Before I do anything, I workout the track listing for the show and come U with scripted chat that I'll pass off as spontaneous quipping when I flag in the final hour of the slot.

Before Maxwell can reach me, I wind down the window and holler something witty.

Before providing a pretty thorough breakdown of the main ones and peppering it with facts and figures.

Before so-called alternative so-called comedy.

Before walking into the lounge and warmly greeting them all.

Before we'd both settled down to a boil in the bag Curry whilst watching a VHS of Taggarts and magnums.

Began production on the 9th of August 1992.

Being here seems to be sending me a far more poignant message.

Besides the realisation mid broadcast that certain participants were attempting to sabotage the show.

Besides, I'm confident that he would have wanted an hour long special for me anyway.

Besides, I've always thought that people can be too quick to judge widows.

Besides, we'd figured that if anyone did end up paralysed come next spring, our ushers one taking the feat, the other of the hands.

Besides. Well, I knew it could do a good job on tummies and thighs.

Between 1962 and 1970, Macomb. And again, these are events that bother me so little my brain hasn't filed under.

Bit misleading that they were basically models dressed in Santa outfits on standby to hand out mulled wine and mince pies.

Black leather tie, buffed up shoes and a rich brown leather jacket.

Blessed with the common touch and not a clever clogs.

Blood is glugging from a cut in his knee, like a big squirt of leg ketchup.

Bloody hell, I thought. This is ideal. Nick wants me to do it. The listeners want me to do it.

Bonkers Bry combined a wacky sense of humour with a genuine mental illness and went on to cohost drive time on signal radio.

Both he and I knew he could still make it into the station by using as few as three buses.

Bought from do it all, funnily enough, made me wise up.

Bouncy castle fall only partially broken by bad man. I answer concisely now drive.

Boyle is one of the new breed of BBC TV execs for whom television programmes seem to be a genuine inconvenience.

Brain box author Lawrence Camley was a Ruddy good sport Ali tenant. A TV mind crack was interesting, although perhaps too smutty for an audience reared on shipping news and dramas about farms.

Broadcast on Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

Brooks, Cameron, Clarkson, Murdoch, Quaffing Champers and laughing our heads off at everyone else.

Brought on by a perfect storm of country dancing, hot weather and the high pollen count.

But a shout from a nearby doorway halts my train of thought.

But Adam's compliment had excellent selection of biscuits soon cheered me up.

But after 18 months, Scramble was quietly dropped.

But after a conversation with the Feet station controller, Frank Shears.

But all the while is listening to me and shouting back his order.

But all these years later, when I think back to those aborted evenings out.

But apart from the onset of aging, I was pleased that the ethos, the spirit and the playlist of radio knowledge were exactly the same.

But as a friend of grandstand backup presenter Steve Ryder.

But as a Ukrainian who'd spent half her life as part of the Eastern Bloc.

But as I approached, I could see the suffering in and around her eyes.

But as I bellowed from a park bench to everyone and no one after another party for one night.

But as I ease her into third, a rice smile dancing across my increasingly moist lips.

But as long as you keep telling yourself to move your right arm in time with your left leg and vice versa, and to push off with sufficient propulsion.

But as soon as I heard the level of their chit chat, I froze.

But at a rate that made you think twice about complimenting him on it because it was more likely to be the consequence of a serious illness.

But at the end of the pilot episode, his right wing views are vindicated when he blows the lid on a drug smuggling racket.

But at the same time, I knew that that afternoon's downpour would have made the slate tiles so slippery that achieving any kind of purchase would have been impossible.

But automatically placing them on some kind of raised plinth or pedestal.

But because I hadn't seen the incident and because I knew almost nothing about horses.

But blanks me every time she sees me and has a habit of tutting when I speak.

But boy, I'd love to hear the roar of an approaching 999 car.

But but we've not even had the cheese course, he said.

But can't recall the exact details as I was drinking a lot of cider at the time.

But don't be deceived by this seemingly intimate tale of fatherless and.

But even with my swimming trunks on, I think this would have been a bit weird.

But every cloud has a silver lining, and I suppose my assistance loss is the black communities gain.

But fine, I wanted a pizza and tiramisu anyway.

But for such a birdlike woman, she was far too hard on the clutch.

But for the record, I'd like to point out that the hospital is not entirely blameless itself.

But had agreed to cover it live as Taverham Archery Club was playing host to the British Archery Championships that year and that was apparently a big deal for Norfolk.

But he just stood there, watching me, the stop side of the lollipop, facing my way.

But he said he didn't want to do it and didn't remember who I was.

But he was inhaling a lot of nail varnish remover around that time, I'm told.

But he was the first kid in the playground to go French.

But he's in celebratory mood and feels good.

But his indomitable spirit and enormous wealth had enabled him to achieve a marriage.

But how to deal with the call of nature in the middle of the night?

But I can honestly say it's not something I ever think about.

But I chortled as I thought of what the ball and chain would have said.

But I felt that Dentam was pushing his luck enormously here.

But I got the extension number wrong and it went to a different man.

But I had a considerable advantage in that, unlike the three I've mentioned, forward solutions wasn't shit.

But I had to think for ages then between the words name and was so insignificant. Is he in the roll call of people I've encountered?

But I know for a fact that this can't happen because his entire collection is dead.

But I never have turned around and dumped him in the tummy. All set fire to an Airfix Messerschmitt before putting it behind his bedroom door so he'd be intoxicated by the burning plastic.

But I read a pamphlet in a dentist waiting room that said it was healthy and important to speak openly about sexual issues. So I will.

But I remained Stony faced again like an emperor.

But I steeled myself against hangers on and well wishers, typically meeting their so-called compliments with a snort or a Stony silence.

But I still stand there each year, smack bang in the middle of a disabled parking Bay.

But I thought it would set a poignant tone for the episode and slash or gain enough pity to sway the mind of a Commissioner.

But I was a bloody good interviewer and a bloody solid guy.

But I was in no doubt that I was on a steep upward career trajectory.

But I was no wee Bonnie boats like a bird on the wing.

But I was operating at about four hours sleep since Christmas Eve and had set myself on the show unrealistically high standards.

But I was unperturbed, glad even, that I'd made the error.

But I'd lost track of time and arguing with Howard Stapleford about the possibility of time travel and had missed my usual train.

But I'd missed the Last Post and never got the BYU TV job.

But I'm confident they'd have literally bitten my hand off.

But I'm still using a giant bottle of Pagan man.

But I've always found her continued correspondence a bit desperate.

But I've scrubbed Stacey's name off now and replaced it with that of Pete Gabbitas.

But if anyone came close to filling the role of agent manager, it would have been Pete Gabbitas.

But if I'd received an unexpectedly large MOT bill combined with the death of a good friend. Plus, I hadn't eaten that day.

But if you're a lady and you don't shave your pits, you look like a Ruddy bloke.

But in my day, public toilets were for pissing and shitting.

But in some ways I was able to donate something far more powerful.

But in that room, fueled by nothing other than raw nerves, out at plopped, fully formed and ready to go.

But instead of the crack of bone on tarmacadam, what I hear is more of a squelchy thud.

But it didn't compensate for the absence of love and affection I received in my home.

But it had been Co devised by Bill Oddie, and he'd made me promise I wouldn't pitch it if he wasn't there.

But it must have been fairly local, because I remember being pleased I'd driven there without stopping for a toilet break.

But it take a few steps before claiming he was dead drunk.

But it was all viewing figures and audience appreciation ratings and stats and figures.

But it was also nice to be able to prove wrong all those people who say it's impossible to make a lifelong friend out of a hotel employee.

But it was Lewis Hurst, a theatrical agent, who had invested some money in the company.

But it was only after I completely cleared my desk weeks later.

But it was then as we tried to hurdle the central reservation.

But it wasn't just in my VO work that things were changing.

But it's borderline self indulgent to devote several years of your life to a single subject.

But Jemima was undeniably one of those uppity overconfident types.

But journalists calls to the BBC were met with an officious.

But just to be the person whose sole job was to bring the laughter.

But just to reiterate, forward solutions was not and is not some presentation that could just be repackaged into a 12 part series of lifestyle makeover shows for BBC One.

But knowing he was important, I kept an eye on him and admired him from afar.

But let's just say that when two healthy and hygienic adults enjoy 2 bottles of wine on an empty stomach.

But little did we realise as our Ace Natter entered its fourth hour.

But my appearance through the frosted glass of the door would provide hushed whispers of anticipation inside.

But my hunch is that it's either a gun or the brush from a dustpan and brush.

But my newfound clout in Norfolk was probably most noticeable.

But no, here he was, bold as brass, out and about.

But no, it's too big, too complex to simply be an old-fashioned lick and peel.

But not a second positive that would have pushed my happiness level higher than average.

But on this occasion I'd forgotten, distracted by a cracking pile up on the A11 eastbound.

But one day that grief will reach adolescence and dish out a frenzied and unprovoked Simeon beat down.

But one who actually believes the stuff he comes out with? He is whip smart.

But only because it was getting lighter in the evenings and more people were out rambling or sitting in beer gardens.

But only realized at the last minute that the dogs were chasing an actual rabbit.

But Sonia changed all that. And how?

But Sonia's love of practical jokes? Sex. Laughter. Chintzy homeware.

But still I'm dry mouth and unable to propel the words towards the foamy orb of the mic.

But that comes with the territory when you're hoovering up the lion's share of corporate production and post production contracts in the North Norfolk region.

But that could wait. First I had to be there for Jane Hayes.

But that night's bid up TV is so enjoyable.

But that wasn't what catapulted me to local radio glory.

But that's by the buy. The first show is a great success.

But that's not in any way to trivialize what is clearly a distressing situation.

But that's the nature of live television, and I honestly don't think people noticed. Again, some of the guests were a little surly, but that has to come down to the book, and at the end of the seri...

But that's what Archers do. If this was in the wild, The Archers would stand there high fiving each other.

But the majority of Norfolk owning or having access to a telephone, it seemed utter folly not to build the show around a phone in feature.

But the nature and length of my stay there hadn't been adequately explained to me.

But the point is the inane taunts from my school days.

But the reporter has the figures written down on a notepad and won't be deterred.

But the RTE executives behind me see it differently.

But the tone of the e-mail was, to my mind, unmistakably upbeat.

But the unjustness of the BBC stopping me being on the television.

But their reassuring televisual demeanour was, I realised, a facade.

But then grief hit when that person was back at work doing, I don't know, her employer's quarterly underwear shop.

But then I reasoned that he was old, which explained why it might have slipped his mind.

But then reconsidered and called back very quickly to accept.

But then she was still a long, long way off of full recovery.

But there are quite a few others in the company too who I'm unable to name.

But there are tailbacks from the road works onto the G****s Hill roundabout.

But there I was, standing and gawping at a single tree.

But there was another reason I was fizzing with excitement, like the sodium bicarbonate rich soluble tablets mentioned in the last chapter.

But there was to be a moving postscript to this chapter in my life.

But there's also an essential fragility to my personality.

But there's no reason I can't get back on that castle and hop.

But these days were as fleeting as a collection of fast birds.

But these, don't forget, were the days before mobile phones.

But they refused to believe that I only had it there to speed, dry, hand washed undies.

But they said their only free slot was the Christmas season and they normally fill that with the pantomime.

But they were dragging their heels in the way that only a groaning bureaucracy populated by Oxbridge graduates can.

But this reek of pure BBC quality only added to my sense of apprehension.

But thought it was just one of those things people say to get attention.

But was mollified when I smelt the shoes, and they didn't smell of human waste.

But was only allowed to eat any on special occasions, such as after meals.

But we hit a snag. The BBC had decided that Alan's show wouldn't work as a name.

But we retain the indefinable quality of excellence.

But we're a back bedroom operation masquerading as a properly established company.

But what a laugh as we staggered along the street like silly idiots.

But when added to loads of other pieces of straw, it adds up until one piece of straw.

But when Forbes remains slumped in their general direction, they bolted in a pretty Craven attempt to spoil the series sign off.

But when I got there I was on the receiving end of an almighty curveball.

But when I started recounting how she used to let me lick the spoon when she was making cakes or gravy.

But when I thought about her in a leotard, it made me feel all cold inside.

But which a small minority of backward Norfolk underachievers repeated again and again and again and again.

But with a diet rich in cholesterol and alcoholic booze.

But with loads of emphasis, so it was clear that enjoying might have a double meaning.

But yes, Alan's career hiccup hit me hard.

By his own admission, he's better equipped to handle employment tribunals than homicide, but it's a pleasure to see him.

By magicking up more wine to get them pissed. How is that holy?

By making three television shows a day, six days a week.

By now Maxwell has almost upon me. I bought from the car, swivel on my heels and began to Sprint, leaping over a 5 foot style like it isn't there.

By placing the emphasis on the different word each time and continued bellowing it for a while before I realised that Emily Boyce was in there doing the weather.

By putting posters up around Norwich and giving work experience to family friends.

By that I mean the intervening years hadn't been kind.

By the fact that there's nothing more than a spiky Mexican plant.

By the one in Bristol, another in the Roman town of Chester.

By the time I was 16, our relationship had broken down to such an extent that I'd rarely even let her do my blackheads.

By this point, my ankle has swollen to roughly the size of a child's head.

By virtue of the fact it has to be loud enough for the audience to hear it, it is inconceivable that it can't also be heard by the character in question.

By way of example, a lot of folks said they expected me to have far nicer eyes.

Caked in the latest set of company financials.

Called in sick to Patry, told Carol I was off to the office, then set up a vantage point opposite the house.

Can I please just go home? I'm doing a store opening at 10 for World of leather.

Capping the verbal diarrhea spewing from some of the younger deejays there.

Careful, she said, suddenly irritated. You nearly broke that.

Carol and I had been hiking and stopped for a toilet break behind a large boulder on Helvellyn.

Carol for it's pretty graveyard. It's cherry blossom and it's old world charm.

Carol had been hymen free for the best part of six years.

Carol left me 14 months after the last of my TV chat shows. I wasn't in a good place. The back garden usually.

Carol scotched the idea of reconciliation and said we were splitting up for good in 1996 and I, of course, demanded sole custody of the children.

Carol's brother turns up and tells me she's seeing another man.

Carrying an umbrella to protect her body from the drench.

Caused variously by physical exercise, spicy food, bright sunlight, embarrassment, dairy, shouting, hearing or doing, and fiddling with my nose.

Challenging but easily digestible for an audience of housewives and unemployed males.

Challenging conventions should be left to those of us who truly understand convention.

Chris Feather had been a rising star at BBC.

Chris was in good spirits, alert and sound of mind.

Chris's successor, Jessica Boyle, was a sigh in human form.

Clarkson was a point away from a driving ban, so as test driving cars like they were hearses.

Clearly this wasn't the forum to discuss my employment at the BBC, so I acknowledged each other with a nod.

Clever. He knows that one wrong move from me and my head will be ripped clean off.

Clifton's bus turns left, mine goes right.

Clocking me, he wanted over doing up his belt and seeing to his fly.

Clutching my best shoes in a plastic carrier bag.

Comb my thick hair past my ears like a glossy hat.

Combine the kettle with the refrigerated minibar and wallop.

Combined with a Tudor brick quality, a sort of Hampton Court fit for a Norfolk Conservative.

Come, come with me through the fog clad mists of time.

Communicating in a bounce back to where I was before I bounced back.

Controversial lawyer Nick Ford was an especially crass interviewee, not attempting to hide his homosexuality at all, as far as I could tell.

Could I have just experienced my own personal Cuban missile crisis?

Cowell had said to me she wanted to clear her head, so I moved out just before Christmas.

Creating an exact replica of the inside of my house.

Crowther read the first page with bemused interest before.

Crumbs. I splattered again in much the same way as I'd done previously. Thanks.

Cursing the absence of my partner in chicken, I went over to get the required eating tools, walking as fast as I could without breaking into a run.

Cut the sweet shit, twinkle toes, I said, like a latter-day Jack Regan.

Dale Life spent a lovely weekend hanging out at the Earls Court boat Show, and he was delightful company.

Damn you, man. We can turn this round. I know we can.

Dave Clifton was left to stagnate on Radio Norwich, shunted to Norfolk Knights.

Dave couldn't master anything like the energy needed to carry a 3 hour late night show.

Dave frowned as he loaded his cans into the boot of his car and claimed he wasn't going anywhere. Mate.

David Essex's hold me close burns victims.

DC wide eye a stickler for the rules.

Dealing with unemployed listeners 5 days a week, I'm still sometimes pleasantly surprised that they can be brainy.

Delivering an unending torrent of human filth and waste into our homes.

Delivery for Mr Maxwell iraw, this time remembering to say it out loud.

Delivery for Mr Partridge, delivery for Mr Partridge, he was saying.

Denton and I became moderately firm friends outside of work, too.

Denton didn't just let me down, he let himself down, too.

Despite being a lab assistant, he was actually an OK guy.

Despite our differences, I took no pleasure in having a much better slot than Dave.

Despite the fact that my wife has left me and my kids really take my calls.

Did I come to be born with this aura of otherness, this Genesee choir?

Did I miss having my own parking space at television centre?

Did I really want to entrust My Portfolio of projects to this shoddy outfit?

Did I used to enjoy the makeup girls referring to me as Mr Partridge?

Digital data can be sent by shifting the carrier's frequency among a set of discrete values, a technique known as frequency shift keying.

Diligently showering each day and making sure that my body.

Dining each morning from the breakfast buffet and speaking into a dictaphone.

Do as I say, I said calmly.

Do you really think I'd have pursued a career in television?

Does make quite the name for himself as a voiceover artist with, by his own admission, a pretty limited range.

Don't believe me? Ask Bob Granger up at Keele.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't an avid watcher of the channel, being neither a young urban male.

Don't get me wrong, the prospect of spending Christmas in unbroken solitude didn't fill me with cheer.

Don't have to, mate, I shouted back. A spring in my step.

Don't read the reviews, said Martin Bell one day in the corridor.

Dozens of others reach over and hug me, although there's absolutely no physical contact between myself and my assistant.

Dream on. But he exercised self restraint.

Dressed in a smart suit but wearing a buttonhole flower, which I felt was in bad taste.

Duetting on UB 40s rat in my kitchen.

During those long, hard months in the womb, she'd been less my mother and more my house.

Dynamic and young, indeed, many of the staff should technically have been at school.

Each show seemed more informative, entertaining and superb than the last.

Eager to keep myself occupied, I was, from a young age, deeply inquisitive.

Eastward told me about our impending transfer from wireless to Gogglebox.

Effortlessly able to switch between the rival demands of a wine bar, a hotel lobby.

Either phoned you, but mobile phones haven't yet reached mainstream adoption, his shrug seemed to add.

Either through boot force or just by invoking the paper purchases prerogative.

Emergency, it began, but that it always does. NND now.

Emotionally, I'd invested a great deal in the success of the show.

Employees at a London radio station like LBC or Radio London or London FM might have been a bit sniffy about it.

Energetic, boisterous and really very zesty.

Enigmatically, I had decided to stay not in the woodworm infested squalor of university halls, but to commute in from my home, my parents home.

Equally, I was acutely aware of the car parking situation mentioned above.

Especially because many have been taken while crouching behind bins, squirrelled away in bushes or.

Especially the face of Craig Kilty, AKA the monster, because it is actually him, whereas the other one isn't Tony Hayes.

Especially with so much starvation in places like Africa and parts of Norfolk.

Essentially, less hot chocolate and more Tears For Fears.

Even accounting for the fact that I never wore boots, this was a good line.

Even after all these years, I feel compelled to add that caveat.

Even among such a vast number, I've stood out as quite an outstanding officer.

Even during the Sermon on the Mount, there must have been a couple of Sinai based goat herders who wished Christ would just F off.

Even if I temporarily lose sight of him, I could always tell which direction he's headed because he leaves a small trail of blood.

Even if she could only tune into most long wave stations by standing on a box and holding the radio out of an upstairs window.

Even in his downtime, he has to occupy himself.

Even more incredibly, she didn't seem to blame me in any way.

Even more people will think it's time to put me out to pasture slash stud.

Even my voice, once so agile and clear, was like Amon's, now muffled and cramped by throat fat.

Even the most ardent do good. I would agree that the 5000 pounds fee made my assistance feelings.

Even though I've always been curious about the turning circles of the motorized ones.

Even though left wing University educated police chiefs reprimand him for it.

Even though Matt and Mario assured me the channel had definitely been interested and they definitely had a meeting there even though they couldn't remember who with.

Even with fear muddying my senses, I refuse to accept that my face is as big as a torso.

Ever the pro, I always made sure I gave the client exactly what they wanted.

Every day for the next fortnight I would go down to Norwich train station, set up a stall and see if I could shift a few units myself.

Every now and then, in front of guests, I'd laugh at the sheer inventiveness of them all.

Every time I entered a wine bar, heads would turn.

Every utterance accompanied by a shrug or a rolled eye.

Everyone agrees it's a pretty dramatic evening all round.

Everything else was there by the bucket. Load, music, guests, sound effects.

Everything was premier but the price, as Dawn Frenchy's former squeeze would say.

Excellent guest ales and a very welcome 0 tolerance policy on dogs in the bar. And I do mean 0 tolerance.

Except for the fact that they're still shit on France's undercarriage, I might add.

Except when we'd all bid each other good night, jumped in our cars and driven home.

Exciting times, improved offer going forward, increased efficiency.

Excuse me, love? A bespectacled woman asks from the driver's window of a Renault S bass.

Faces I'd watched time and again on the news whilst eating my dinner.

Fair enough. I'm not karate world champ Jackie Chan.

Fall in, troop, fall in, I'd shout into the microphone and then, as the specially commissioned theme music ended with a romper pompom, I'd say AH, at ease. And the show, a high spirited hour aimed ...

Far enough away from the centre of the corridor not to get pedaled off by the incessant clickety clack of the left shaft.

Far from locking me off course, this provided a much needed emotional outlet.

Farmers. Taxi drivers, new mums at their wits end.

Fast forward three months and a thrusting go getter by the name of Alan Partridges in the staff room of Richer Sounds in Norwich.

Fat, tired, confused, cold, obese, alone, with chilly feet.

Fear ripples through me like the Raspberry and a Raspberry ripple ice cream.

Fernando wasn't keen as he was living in Cambridge midway through the final year of a politics degree.

Few people realised that it was possible or legal to build your own home apart from me.

Finally, it was time to commence the total annihilation of all the unneeded flab within the body of Alan Gordon Partridge.

Finding the band was easy. I'd seen local musician Glenn Ponder rock the joint at a Norwich wine bar months before.

Fine, he grunted unconvincingly as I shoved it away again.

Fingers ready to push buttons and slide sliders.

Fishermen late night returning ravers and the disturbed people for whom darkness brought only despair.

Flying to Gothenburg to negotiate directly with Bjorn and Benjamin's lawyers.

FM conveys information over a carrier wave by varying its instantaneous frequency.

Follow that bus. I bellow my face, pushed with frustration.

For a man whose death I was over the moon about, I was in the office of the new head of programmes for BBC Television, Mr Christopher Feather, Esquire.

For a pre Renaissance fat king using the efficiencies of modern techniques.

For a split second, I think maybe it's one of those transfers you used to get free with bubble gum.

For a time I was determined not to shed a tear over him, so if I ever felt myself welling up useful, tip this.

For a woman in her position, her posture was a disgrace.

For added drama, I'll be slipping into the present tense, but I don't want to suggest in any way that this took place anything other than a long, long time ago.

For example, Phil Cool, Rory Bremner, all local impressionist, James Galbraith, to my mind the pick of the three.

For example, the girls on reception had sagged in the jowls a little.

For example, the hero would be on stage and he'd say to the audience.

For extra dramatic impact, I will now shift into the present tense.

For her part, she seemed a little diffident and didn't say much.

For his part, Chris had been blown away by my tenacity, my restless creativity, and the fact that the camera slash microphone loved me.

For one thing, I was promoted to radio Norwich's glamour slot.

For rights to shout but not say the word aha 50 * a year in perpetuity for the rest of my life or until 2015, whichever comes sooner.

For several minutes we thrash around on the floor like Tarzan and that crocodile.

For starters, they were bellowing over the sound of English teacher Mr Bevan.

For the first couple of days, I used to visit the grave every day.

For the first ten weeks, Carol suffered from almost incessant nausea, not to mention frequent bouts of oral vomiting.

For the first time I was also at the controls when it came to selecting music.

For the next three hours, we chatted away like there was no tomorrow.

For the time, I was fixated with butterflies and interest that my father did much to encourage.

For the uninitiated, the BBC club is a subsidised bar com restaurant laid down by licence fee payers for the talent and crew of the BBC alike.

For their part, the Lamberts knew if I was going to manage a solid morning of show preparation.

For three long days, I felt the cold hand of death on my shoulder.

For unto us this day a child is born.

For what seemed like an eternity, I wandered around the grounds of the church, killing time.

Forbes have been a pretty awkward guest and had brought the pistols onto the show himself and had very sweaty hands and was making sudden movements and saying some pretty off putting things about b...

Fortuitously, he's grown into the spitting image of Richard Gere, so has made a lucrative series of films.

Found herself manifested with all the clarity this sentence has in manifesting itself in front of yourself.

Found the biting point. Checked my mirrors, indicated to pull out, release the handbrake.

Fran Lambert seemed to say, with the good side of her face. You can come and stay anytime you like.

Free to work full time for the show after his dishonourable discharge from the Scots Guards.

Fregate, I said aloud. Why not? I work hard. It's Friday night. I want a glass of wine.

French kissing is a technique in which two mouths dock at the lips.

Friday would usually have been our take away night, but tonight I wasn't hungry.

From day one, hour one, minute 1 second one, I wanted to create something that was touching yet businesslike.

From floor to ceiling, the walls are covered in pictures of Alan Gordon Partridge.

From him trimming our private hedge and then making me go round and collect the cuttings in the rain.

From playground Lothario to environmental trailblazer in under 50 years.

From the serious to the inconsequential inner heartbeat.

From there, I loudly read out the food option so that Glenn can hear. He, meanwhile, is scurrying to the far side of the restaurant to grab cutlery and napkins and condiments.

From whence did these hushed conversations arise, you ask?

Full disclosure, my first choice for House band had been the Jeff Lovell Orchestra.

Funnily enough, it's the kind of case that would be perfect for our regional detective like Swallow.

Gentlemanliness prevents me from recounting some of the early incidents involving my nascent but powerful sexuality.

Given the kind of crippling mortgages that this country's homeowners are struggling with.

Gladden engly. I didn't have to wait long for the answer because it was conversation in real time.

Glenn had just finished an awe inspiring during dinner set at Cafe Symphony in Norwich.

Glenn lost his flat as a result and lived in a YMCA for six months.

Glenn, it turned out, was responsible for collecting up the coins that were tossed at the band carrying them home and piggy banking them.

God, Elliott said, was committed to making best use of its resources. Love that phrase.

Going as far as gluing the torn shreds back together with Bostic.

Going so far as to invest in a miniature comb and a gentle wax.

Gone were the days of doing second tier work for a few shekels here or there.

Good morning Patrick, I bellow as I entered the offices of my prodco production company. Good morning Alan, replied my staff.

Good morning, St Lukes.

Good. Now imagine that it's not tofu.

Got to say, Trevor, I remember announcing on my second day there.

Great friends, on and off camera, and our feud was real and long standing.

Great set back there, man, I said, using the word man so he knew I was familiar with modern music.

Green goddess, Hemel Hempstead Bum bags, monster mash.

Guesstimated fatalities for excluding livestock.

Gunnell may have run her race, but the rest of them are yet to compete.

Had a long chat with Bill Oddie, an experienced birder.

Had been published by Poetry Publishing, the publishing wing of my now defunct company.

Had brought with him two of Lord Byron's dueling pistols.

Had by now returned to my marital home, so I needed to get out.

Had decided that just to Curry favour with Alan Partridge, it was worth breaking one of the most non negotiable rules in UK retailing.

Had enabled me to avoid the scruffiness of my shaggy haired sandal wearing colleagues.

Had found out at noon and busily set about sharing the good news.

Had identified the suspected tumour was nothing more sinister.

Had taken the trouble to see me off slash take my payment.

Had this been 2011, I'd probably have returned to school with some oozes to give my classmates something to really laugh about.

Had to be riding roughshod over basic health and safety.

Had tricked his way into my studio and duped me into saying the words.

Half an hour later and despite a ceremony which I felt had been deliberately marred by the vicars Lisp.

Hamilton Water breaks had pencilled me as an understudy for their next corporate video.

Handing out fresh milk and cooked cookies to her three children.

Hanging UI slum against the side of the phone box.

Happily, I received a call from a friend called Barry Hethersett.

Has B in chemistry, C in biology and be in physics all at GCSE.

Has begged, face went pale, and he averted his eyes.

Has gone medically demented, so I'm really the gospel here.

Has mindless decision making conducted almost entirely by a hormone, adult penis, so desperate to impregnate the first chubby cashier it could slip into?

Has space was filled, if you like, by Sheila's husband Tim.

Has vice? Well, booze has been done, so I thought it would be quite nice if he was bulimic.

Hauling my kitties head of an ankle aboard, I pay my fare 150 for a single and fix the driver square between the eyes.

Have a good workout, I said, slotting my right forefinger in and out of the hole I'd made between the thumb and forefinger of my left hand.

Have come to me with the idea of ripping out the back seats of 10s of thousands of company cars.

Have put talented entertainers like Carr back into some kind of closet.

Have set up Green Acres, a chain of care homes for the elderly.

Having agreed to be the face of the channel for the foreseeable future and agreed to drive Quentin round for an hour every Saturday so that he and cars could.

Having an encyclopedic knowledge of subtitled films.

Having badly disfigured his hands, saving an oboe from a van fire.

Having had a falling out with the other one from Pepsi and Shirley.

Having Joe appear was my one big regret of this episode.

Having salvaged BBC Two, I set about making the best show that had ever been on it.

Having signed up to the second Battalion of the Royal Norfolk Regiment in World War Two.

Having struck gold up to a ceiling of 999 pounds.

Hayers came down to the restaurant door as I was deep in conversation with Steve Ryder.

Hayers, who required emergency dental treatment, which I was happy to pay for, was needlessly off with me in the days after the show.

Hayes had us scheduled for a 9:00 PM BBC Two slot.

He agreed there and then, before we'd even discussed terms or mentioned money, which I found both refreshing and a bit desperate.

He also has a weakness for doing 10,000 piece jigsaws.

He ambled over to me one night as I was picking through some bar snacks.

He believes the truth is that the government deliberately keep a lid on those stories.

He can only manage the three games of 10 pin bowling per week.

He can't figure out what to do with his experiences. He's been through a major male mind meltdown. Surely there's some good to come out of this?

He could see I'd been crying and was clearly doing the mental maths.

He could simply Bob into Morrisons and get them from the chill cabinets.

He could. He was a well regarded TV personality.

He crouched down, taking the weight of his body on his two haunches.

He died at 36. Ah.

He dubbed grotesque sexual images on my freshly wallpapered exercise books and in a sinister twist.

He even attempted unsuccessfully, to claim legal ownership of the sobriquet.

He got over his nerves and I survived with my reputation intact.

He had drawn up a contract that would tie me to BBC TV on a £200,000 a year deal.

He had ours free that day and asked me to fill in on his slot because he had to attend the funeral of one of his parents.

He had some of the most severe breathing difficulties I've ever shared a room with.

He had that lifeless, Gray, dead eyed quality they all have at Broadcasting House.

He has no middle fingers on one hand, so he can't swear, but is permanently doing the heavy metal sign.

He has the largest collection of samurai swords in Europe.

He held his finger and thumb one maybe 2 centimetres apart.

He is a private contractor and all such contracts.

He kept me waiting for two, sometimes 3 minutes before rolling into the car without a word of apology.

He landed on a stack of hurdles, suffering cuts and bruises as well as some pretty seriously duffed up pride.

He laughed again and indicated to the rest of the class that I was mentally defective by twirling a finger by the side of his head.

He learned that a sloppy administrator had spelt his surname, Pattridge.

He left the business shortly after our price and now works for Hertz car rental.

He likes nothing more than to sit down with a copy of the puzzler in a Wicker chair, then look out over the Fens and immerse himself in puzzles.

He looked at me in order to size me up and gauge my intentions.

He looked into my 7 year old eyes and made me a rock solid pledge.

He looked older because he was 35 years older than he used to be.

He made me do it four times in as many years.

He made me think about all the funny things jazz Clarkson says about the working class.

He mimicked my voice when I effortlessly answered questions in class. He removed my shorts on a cross-country run and ran off fast.

He mumbled something about upsetting the listeners and scurried off when I followed him down the corridor.

He not only been winner of the Sports Day slow bicycle race for three straight years, he was also the first boy in our class to properly kiss a girl.

He now lives on disability allowance in Edgbaston and has gained a lot of weight.

He reacted hysterically when I referred to a teacher as mum.

He really does knock al-Qaeda for six when it comes to killing the most number of people.

He returns home, sits in an armchair with a mug of cocoa.

He said he didn't want to start drinking when it wasn't even 10:00 AM.

He said the last thing I wanted was to be bereaved and bunged up.

He said, Wheeling round and bearing his fists, and clenching his teeth. I pretended not to notice and ploughed on.

He smiled a bit and put his hand on her shoulder to reassure her.

He smoked his whole life, didn't miss a day's work.

He steps on the gas and with a massive cloud of dust, we wheel spin out of the depot.

He stole, interfered with, and returned my sandwiches.

He tells me that he takes women there and then mimes the words.

He turned to go and put one of his angry feet on the remains of the cake.

He uses one of those booster seats so he can see over the steering wheel.

He was also perhaps a little ill suited to the top of the show comic banter that the role required.

He was angry that I'd invited him onto the show as a guest to, as he called it, ambush him into recommissioning KMK Y.

He was away from home more than I'd have liked, but I acknowledged that Pear Tree Productions needed him.

He was employed there in what was far as I could make out, was an unspecified capacity.

He was intrigued at what was a really fresh idea and an appointment was duly arranged for that afternoon.

He was rigged up to a breathing apparatus with an oxygen mask strapped over his mouth and north.

He was the conductor to what was essentially a pub band.

He was well swaddled so I didn't have to worry about getting any of Carol's guts on my shirt.

He was working hard to provide for me and the kids and I probably took that for granted.

He was young, physically in peak condition. No arguments about that. Fair does. Some people have a lot of time on their hands and didn't stretch me intellectually, which did my confidence the world...

He went on to make his name, producing a certain Orwellian house based reality show that demeans us all.

He works in Norfolk, CID, whereas most regional detectives drive a classic or unusual car.

He works out that the drugs are being smuggled in the collective rector of circus elephants.

He would be the Polish to my car, the buff to my shoe, the sun cream to my back.

He would have needed dental records to identify the dead.

He would pose as my flatmate slash bungalow body.

He would think of a cuddly old cat lying in the sunshine.

He'd been a bit weird for a while. The cadence of his sentences has started to get on everyone's tits.

He'd been in Cyprus too, but that was just on holiday.

He'd been innocently copying out a recipe for white bean Stew from the BBC Good Food magazine.

He'd been working long hours trying to resuscitate his production company.

He'd have wished every terminal illness under the sun on him.

He'd lost both his legs after being on the receiving end of a roadside bomb.

He's a massive fan of the show and insists that until the last five minutes it had been very good.

He's been living in the Wormwood area of West London for 10 years.

He's booked a table in the BBC restaurant Friday at 1.

He's gone for play, which means this is a high risk question. Your topic is American sitcoms. Get this wrong.

He's left his homosexual days behind him and now does nothing gayer than shop for antique furniture.

He's like Norfolk's very own Jeremy Clarkson.

He's moved to America now, so he won't mind me talking about it, but his wife did used to beat him quite a lot.

He's not in there anymore, she attempted. He's clambered out of the window and ran off.

He's not interested in sat NAV, leather seats or CD stacker systems.

He's pushed it too far this time, but I'm still a professional. I've still got a show to do.

Headquarters to broadcasting magnificence. Inside its brownie coloured walls are rooms, studios and cupboards.

Heard you on the radio last night, Alan Crumbs, I spluttered. Thanks.

Hearing a subpar song on the radio before breakfast.

Hello Alan. Hello guys. I'm just saying hello to Alan. The rest of them nodded in my direction, using their heads.

Helming my own show with neither the limitations of a sports only remit.

Help amuse chat help amuse chat.

Henry, there has been some sort of mistake here.

Her hair flailing in the wind, her nipples standing to attention like a couple of boob soldiers.

Her qualities that broadcasters spend a lifetime trying to perfect yet.

Hethersett, perhaps still crushed by the death of his mother or father, never returned to Saxon radio, and they wouldn't have wanted him anyway.

High fiving her staff before doing a kind of funky walk around the court saying who da man to everyone's delight.

High fiving, a succession of pleased staff.

His argument that insubordination is a disciplinary issue only in the military and therefore no grounds for dismissal in the private sector.

His back took the first hit, smashing against the liner and cake with a Bang Bang.

His Desmond Tutu is so good he almost doesn't need to black up.

His foul breath told me he'd recently woken, and the cakey orange build up in the corners of his eyes was a surefire sign that waking early and or washing had not been on his To Do List.

His loss, monkey tennis, was later snapped up by TV stations in Laos and Taiwan.

His marriage broke down because his wife was too selfish to recognise his cleverness.

His mind forever racing with new ideas and formats.

His skin covered in a thick film of my wife's innards.

His usually hilarious asides turning into little more than muttered rubbish.

His voice can be heard in the lift of an art gallery in Bath.

His was a campaign of petty abuse that was awesome in its length and breadth.

Hmm, she said, like she didn't have a bloody clue.

Hmm. Hmm. Phone.

Hook the flush up with the cars exhaust so that human waste took the same exit as the CO2.

Hot hatches and men who looked like girls. Bowie strange, Le Bon.

How are we today? I continued, genuinely wanting to know. Great, not bad. Back still playing up very well, fine, bit tired as my neighbours decided to do the fucking hoovering at 2:00 o'clock in th...

How can you be attracted to a man who basically wears leotards?

How had I gone from the cosseted glamour of our price radio to the snarling balls out toughness of sports reporting?

How in the name of Holy Living Heck was I gonna bust my way into this conversation?

How many of the UK's other blue ribbon presenters could say that?

How? And these were pretty much my exact words, even at the age of 8.

However, I was afraid of this and told it called to mind a war zone littered with the injured and diseased, which was precisely why I thought it was so appropriate.

I agreed to take the job there and then, shaking their hands and then leaving their hired meeting room, still laughing my head off.

I also had a girlfriend who was significantly younger than me.

I also had projects on the boil with 24 broadcasters around the world.

I also have a daughter whose birth invokes similar feelings.

I also insisted on doing my studio reports with the word sport in massive letters behind me.

I also knew I couldn't just play music and read out the song title and artist.

I also once shared a stage at a charity dinner with Elton John.

I always think that like a dangerous dog sinking its teeth into the waddling rump of a fat postman.

I am lying in a disabled parking Bay outside Morrisons.

I am your patrol leader. I am your patrol leader. I am your patrol leader.

I answered the phone to local media mogul Rich shares.

I approached Nick Peacock, then head of Radio Norwich, at a charity Gypsy fight.

I ascended the career ladder like a shaven Jesus, ascending to his rightful place in the Kingdom of heaven.

I asked all the obvious questions. Since when? Why him?

I asked if I could take home a doggy bag of bouncing back slutty.

I asked them to duplicate exactly the design used by Redrow Homes.

I awoke at 3:00 AM to find sweat pouring from all over my body.

I bade farewell to the Linton Travel Tavern and the only way I knew.

I barely knew her, and she'd not exactly covered herself in glory by marrying an idiot like Tony. But widows and needy people.

I became the best sports interviewer, come reporter, slash anchor on British terrestrial television.

I began frantically pitching shows at her, desperately outlining My Portfolio of program ideas in the hope of convincing her that we could be happy and rich.

I began to fall in love with broadcasting all over again.

I believe there are a few things that can't be sorted out over a coffee and a cuddle.

I bowed my head for a full minute to spare a thought for his loved ones.

I broke one of the most sacred covenants of brand Partridge.

I call my assistant and tell her to a collect my car and B deal with Maxwell personally.

I called out through the semi masticated confectionery.

I can feel myself basking in the warm glow of relative confidence.

I can go from cherished friend and godfather to your eldest son, to the kind of guy you try to physically attack at a BBC barbecue in less than an hour.

I can hear the PC Brigade. Oh no, homosexual, never attack anyone.

I can just make out something odd going on below.

I can only assume they think I'm a predatory gay with a fetish for the dead.

I can tell you she's gone into shock and you can see that from here, the colours drained from her and she's all aquiver and actually like a quiver cause she has an arrow in her.

I can tell you that the silo is adjacent to a hospital.

I can't recall much about the wake either, to be honest. I was in a bit of a daze.

I can't speak for her and I guess she was in a bad place.

I caught it, wrapped it in a napkin, which I slotted into my pocket.

I changed it once and I was not going to change it again.

I charge over and bang, bang headbutt him twice in the back.

I chose not to progress to the very top belts as I knew I was capable of badly hurting someone with the sheer proficiency of my self defence techniques.

I collected my satchel and jacket to the sound of embarrassed silence and left.

I commiserated in that hollow, plastic way that passes for friendship in the media.

I confronted Nick in a corridor and told him he was making a massive mistake.

I consulted a lawyer nonetheless, and he advised me not to pursue it.

I continued commenting on the duration of my stay in the hotel.

I continued to shout this until I was the only person left in the changing rooms.

I could build them into sturdy where grams of sticks and newspaper no problem.

I could embroidery badges onto the shirts of every scout who asked.

I could feel my chest puffing out like a toad's throat.

I could get tables at a moments notice I was stopped on the street by people telling me how unbelievable my show was. I was hot and it felt good.

I could go from total stranger to close buddy in under 2 weeks.

I could have gone out for a drink in any bar and night and left with at least a dozen middle-aged women plucked, gutted and slung over my shoulder with sex at my place to follow.

I could see he was as impressed as anyone would be by my casual mention of a former motorcycle world champ who was now half metal.

I could sense that the architects were disappointed not to be able to flex their creative mind muscles.

I could use as much as I pleased and believe me, I pleased.

I cupped my hands behind my ears, creating a sort of makeshift amplifier.

I curled up on my bed like a fetus, though admittedly quite a large one.

I decide to sum up where I am and what's happening to me.

I decided not to devote too much of my time to forward solutions.

I decided the show would combine music and chat, which effectively meant transplanting Norfolk Knights into a new daytime slot.

I decided to enshrine his role in his honour nickname.

I decided to start broadcasting with the aid of a sidekick.

I decided to take some sandwiches and make a day of it.

I demanded my £300 back that very afternoon.

I demonstrated this by doing a sad face, then lifting my fist to my eye and waggling it.

I developed a complementary technique called controlled anger release slashing.

I did a lot of crying as well. I'm not ashamed to say that now.

I did well out of it. My versatility and willingness to leave my principles at the door for the right price.

I didn't hear back so I thought I'd better go anyway on the off chance.

I didn't want someone to pick and prod around my troubled mind like a shopper fingering a piece of fruit in the supermarket. I wanted something that would allow my soul to heal in its own time.

I Ding the dinger, but as I leap from the bus and onto the pavement, I've forgotten about my ankle. The sudden throb of pain makes me understand what childbirth must be like, except I'm feeling it ...

I do all this while getting roaring drunk on a what this party for?

I do not give a fucking shit either way.

I do not the winged ones you see in films as I've.

I don't go down to the cemetery at all these days unless I happen to be passing.

I don't have the exact figures to hand, but it's probably correct to say that half of all marriages end in separation.

I don't really like cider, but there'd been a very good deal on it, Threshers.

I don't think I've ever screamed at television executives that loud before or since.

I don't think it was in any way arrogant of me to offer my services as a consultant to the Ministry of Defence.

I don't want to talk about war because I've seen soldiers decapitated, like in Saving Private Ryan.

I doubt her to hop all the way back to the hotel. She did.

I dug out a prize winning thought piece or essay I'd written as a schoolboy.

I dusted it down, buffed it off, and allowed myself a little peek inside at the companies I'd lent my voice to.

I eased her out of the way and put the take away menus, the glossy food describing documents that she'd so carefully placed in my hands.

I emerged 3 days later having broken a window and an angle poise lamp and a swivel chair, but still no closer to a new name.

I envisaged it as a kind of idea melting pot.

I even returned a prized album of family photos to Carol after she left.

I excelled at outdoor tasks, mastering knots that could theoretically lash a small boat to a jetty or splice together a child shattered leg.

I explained to Carl that I'd forgive her. We'd try again in the morning.

I feel like those women who lift cars to free their trapped children.

I felt it was time I shared forward solutions with the world.

I felt like I could sell coal to the Eskimos.

I felt my legs start to buckle beneath me and reached out to steady myself on the Bannister.

I felt that Denton began to develop ideas above his station.

I first got wind of Carol's infidelity when she came home from the gym wearing a pair of Black A6 cycling shorts.

I flick my head effortlessly to the right and see another bus pulling in.

I followed him to the bogs at the motor show in 93 and asked him straight out what was up.

I forced another two prisms of chocolate into my already oversubscribed mouth.

I found myself walking through the valley of no confidence.

I found that the best way to reach a decision is to find out what a Baptist would do, then do the opposite.

I fulfilled the commitment to the best of my abilities, consoling myself at the end of each race.

I gathered what remained of my turbulent supply, entered just six bin bags.

I generally can't think of anything with matching initials that I don't like.

I glance out of the window and see an old woman looking up at the window.

I go to shield my ears from the noise, but suddenly an ecstatic throng of well wishes is rushing into the studio. 2 old ish receptionists struggle to lift me onto their shoulders.

I got home and had a can of better and a sleeping tablet.

I got so caught up in thinking about the book that by the time I finally emerged from my bath.

I grew a teak. Tough, metaphorically bulletproof hide, essential in the very real war zone that is broadcasting.

I guarantee they'll make some comment about the lift being slow or full.

I guess I always knew that as word of my competence leaked out across Anglia.

I had a cold at the same time, so it was like a musical tsunami.

I had a little experience of horses previously, not least on knowing me. Knowing you.

I had a s****** from a toilet cubicle and cursed silently.

I had an easy way with people and much like Piers Morgan today.

I had been a hospital radio DJ at Saint Lukes in Norwich.

I had bigger plans for the project than drafty staff rooms, though.

I had indeed beefed up the nasal quality of my voice.

I had learned what it felt like to stare death in the face.

I had nowhere to turn and forlornly tramped the streets in my Rover 200.

I had racked up substantial debt and cash flow meant that I defaulted on the rental agreement of my London apartment and I was asked to leave.

I had things to do that afternoon anyway, so I thanked Hayes and stood up.

I had to round up all the remaining turbula rounds in my house and get rid of them.

I had to store my property in the garage even though it was cold in there.

I hadn't been expecting a mail order clock to cancel out the grief.

I hadn't even come close to hitting the 500 pound annual spending threshold required to go gold.

I handed the child back to a nurse and ran off to the toilets so I wouldn't be seen throwing my head back on the way to shout.

I happen to believe that his joke about a Swedish Fred Flintstone.

I hated it TV back then, and that loathing spurred me on to be the man on the scene whenever a sports star or their attractive spouse had anything to say.

I have to be honest and say I wasn't too cut up when Papa passed on.

I hopped on the tube and made my way over to the BBC. By the way, anyone reading this overseas or in Wales, the tube is a means of public transport.

I hurtle across a farmers field, my legs eating up the ground, my arms pumping like the Pistons of a big Victorian steam engine.

I ignored the message, temporarily forgetting that when she texts.

I immediately found Carol before quickly hanging up on her remembered we were divorced.

I joined Lord Baden Powell's army of Prepubescence, and it is an army.

I just left 60 abusive voicemails on his mobile, plus 12 on Valerie singletons, for which I've apologised. She's above him in my contacts list.

I just realised I'm listing things I have for dinner when I should be listing faces I've seen on the news. But I'm just saying that I'd seen these people on the news and I'd respected them.

I knew for a fact this establishment served modern European, whereas I'd hoped we could meet at TGI Friday's because I wanted something with chips.

I knew I couldn't face the juvenile tittering of my class colleagues.

I knew if I was going to be the very best disc jockey there was.

I knew it was probably curtains for me and Carol in 1989.

I knew that in the fog of a previous Swiss chalk high, I had hidden a bar somewhere in the house.

I knew that sound tracking my listeners early mornings was a major responsibility.

I knew that the most cathartic thing to do would be to just give it all away.

I knew then and there and then that this was the end of my relationship with the BBC.

I knew there'd be the odd snide comment from people who think that a 2 1/2 hour radio show five days a week is. I'm laughing as I write this.

I know daylight savings play merry hell with milking patterns.

I know for a fact that I would have developed a pretty impressive booze habit.

I know he'd lost both his legs, but you don't clap with your feet.

I know he's with David Furnish now, but I've long suspected that that relationship is just a cover for his heterosexuality.

I know their handshake had seemed to suggest that Sue wasn't a deal breaker.

I launched myself into it like a small circus man being shot from a cannon.

I left messages for his PA to say I'd booked his in at Pizza Express so that I could buy him lunch to say sorry.

I like to imagine that after a hard day following the Royals.

I liked it there very much and enjoyed offering suggestions to the management.

I locked my car by casually pointing the keys over my shoulder.

I locked myself in my study and like a scene from a US movie.

I looked him square in the face, and without breaking his gaze, I struck the handle of the knife that was resting on the cheese board.

I love alliteration. I love, love, love it.

I love my job though, and despite being unpaid, I'd been quick to negotiate free parking and the right to jump the queue in the canteen.

I love the fact that it was like a car wash for horses. I really loved that fact.

I love to kiss your back from top to bottom and from side to side, also diagonally.

I loved Alan and probably didn't fully appreciate what I had.

I loved it with its sponge covered microphone dangling in front of my mouth like a big black g****.

I made Glen and his group Brandy snaps current name vajazzle.

I made my position clear. The nerves had to be dealt with.

I make my way past Boots, JB Sports and Blacks, who I notice have got a 25% off all waterproof trousers.

I may be wrong about this, but he looks like a gypsy. I'm not sure of his ethnicity, but I'm reliably informed he once tried to put a curse on Leo Sayer.

I may have been back at the exact station, in the exact same building, at the exact same desk.

I mean, he'd come back stronger. That was never in any real doubt, but I was impatient and wanted all the rewards that he'd promised me.

I mean, I enjoyed helping him out because, and he'd be the very, very first to admit this, he needed all the help he could get.

I mean, I've not demanded that Denton sign any exclusivity agreement as his humour seemed so suited to mid morning.

I mean, nothing was going to stop him getting the 10:02 to Newmarket from platform 9.

I mentally rifled through the Rolodex of red Letter days, birthdays, anniversaries, deaths.

I mentioned this because one of the other big boons of hotel life.

I met him when I came up to London for my job interview. Things had begun.

I might as well admit now, before any member of my troop publishes a counter memoir, but I never mastered fire lighting.

I misjudged my proximity to the table and clattered against it.

I missed being in and around the Death Star as Jeremy Clarkson calls BBCTV Centre.

I muttered something about heading off early the next morning to test drive the new Rover 800 with Gary, who directs the Superdrug commercials.

I need to get back on message, as Tony Blair would say.

I needed the kitchen to myself between 9:00 and 12:00.

I never stopped to ask his permission or run the idea by him.

I normally muffle the sound by wrapping it in my duvet and lying on top of it.

I note that this in no way tallies with the findings of the coroner. These are my findings, not the crowns.

I noticed that the atmosphere around TV centre was different.

I now had a voice that could take on any chat based challenge.

I obviously wasn't going to enforce this with a daily breathalyzer test.

I often think how fortunate it was that Graham was the same age as her.

I opened it as gingerly as a rookie bomb disposal operative would open a fat letter bomb in a crash.

I ordered food and wine for us both. A nice German wine.

I parted ways to conduct an afternoon with Alan Partridge at the Linton Travel Tavern. With Sue Cook as my ravishing special guest, it was to be a chance for me to reconnect with some of my most lo...

I particularly like one shot of me stepping out of the shower circa 1994.

I passed. I kept saying I passed them both.

I phoned down to hotel reception and told them I'd be moving out at the end of the week and then asked my assistant to find a house that befitted a prime time TV personality.

I placed my order but forgot about the cutlery. My food arrived and I had neither knife, fork or spoon.

I pledged never again to allow a sidekick to eclipse obscure or impinge ever again.

I posted it to her, and only then realized I'd forgotten to sign it.

I poured it listlessly until I noticed that it contains chicken Nuggets.

I pressed my hand against the window like they do in films.

I proved myself over the course of knowing me, knowing you.

I provided commentary over the PA for a private greyhound racing event for a group of local businessmen at a track I'm not able to name.

I pulled out a notepad and began to draw up my final will and testament.

I pulled the paper out further until I could make out the letters it bore.

I put my hand up as if to say, give me a minute, will you, Keith? I've just cycled the equivalent of a full marathon.

I ran home, excess talc spilling from the bottom of my trouser legs.

I reached out and tenderly fingered my glossy, smiling face.

I realized that something far worse was going on.

I received a letter from Raquel Welch's lawyer instructing me not to contact her ever again.

I received word via fax that a lot of stores were going to take it down from the shelves.

I remember asking him once over breakfast what it had been like.

I remember being especially jealous of a lad called Graham Rig.

I remember boarding a Norwich to London train one Friday morning in late 1991.

I remember eating a great many chicken drumsticks and someone coming up to me and telling me I mustn't forget to have some fibre too.

I remember literally nothing of my journey to Scotland.

I remember ruining a colleague's birthday meal by eating 1/3 of a Toblerone before joining them for dinner.

I remember the first book I sold to a WH Smith customer.

I remember the intense joy I felt when my father slipped on some cake.

I reminded him of his invitation to come back and stay anytime.

I repeated the not a good look ombre bit to give it proximity to my driving away.

I resolved to keep my mouth shut until I had acclimatized slash acclimated.

I revoked the offer when I realised it might mean travelling to London or Aldershot.

I revved louder to let him know I was eager to drive past him fast.

I said if TV was all about numbers, they'd put a keypad under the screen and turn it into a giant Casio calculator.

I said in a quiet, soothing voice, as if I was a conductor whisperer.

I said, making inverted commas around the word Jim with my fingers.

I sat and listened as the debate raged on among my colleagues before shouting.

I saw a young lady slash old girl stood nearby.

I saw members of the audience doubled over, desperately trying not to wet themselves.

I saw myself turning into a third bird of a feather.

I say that as a man who can Gen up on any subject to university standard in an hour.

I screamed at the foreman over the deafening roar of the machinery.

I set about one of the most merciless exercise regimes in the history of knowledge.

I shouted and stormed out of the room to the end of the corridor.

I shoveled the chips into my mouth as if I was eating pudding.

I shut my eyes and the hope that it might make me hear better.

I slam on the brakes and can't believe it when the car comes to a halt without careering through the fence.

I slumped into the shower, which was just a curtained off area at one end of the bath.

I sometimes thought the kindest thing would be to put me out of my misery.

I spent 94 wonderful months behind the market St Lukes, but by autumn 1983.

I spent several sleepless hours that night constructing rational explanations for this sentence. Perhaps she'd caught the tail end of a blue movie on Channel 4 and was chatting to her girlfriend ab...

I spent the entire night stood in front of my bathroom mirror doing everything in my power.

I spewed all my violin to Raquel's delicate hair, sometimes confusing her name with that of my ex-wife.

I spoke to the station controller of Radio Norwich, quickly unreasoned and set about returning the items to my desk.

I spoke with her once when she asked me what I was doing outside their house and her language was appalling.

I staggered from television centre, studying myself on an old woman who was there for the BBC tour.

I start the drive into work manfully trying to operate the brake, accelerator and cut with only one functioning foot.

I start the process of shaking every member of staff by hand. It's only a small gesture, but I know it'll mean a lot.

I started with a regime I found in my assistance copy of Bella Magazine.

I still believe I was right to be defensive and on occasion orally threatening, because for a sports journalist in particular, the early 90s was a time of plenty.

I still go and watch him from time to time and afterwards we go out for a nandos together.

I still have a beer mat on which he scrawled that very promise.

I strode in and dropped my hold all neatly to one side.

I strolled back around the corridor one last time.

I stumbled into the bathroom, splashing my face with water so cold it made me go.

I suddenly knew that this could work out very well indeed.

I suggested that Alan come too, but after every unreturned phone call to the BBC he'd dig an angry hole in the garden and so any spare energy went on that.

I suggested that I come in and talk about the idea of a chat show in which I, the chat show host, would chat to guests on the show.

I suggested the name motel as it was half motorcar, half hotel.

I survived and returned as the broadcaster I am today.

I suspected her of smoking cannabis and as her employer.

I swallowed hard and began to remove the letter within the Lope.

I swung by the hospital to explain the terms and conditions to her.

I take his ideas about the redistribution of wealth and shove them where the sun don't shine.

I talked to one of the three old reliables, stonewashed baby blue denim jeans, oversized white training shoes and a wearable microphone.

I think his exact words were that's just the way they are.

I think it started from a sex game that went wrong 12 years ago.

I think you'll find they are rage, my mum. Like some sort of feral animal brackets. A badger with TB perhaps?

I thought about taking it up with him, but thought better of it. No, I said to myself.

I thought back to a time of my life when I was at my most productive.

I thought it best that I telephoned everyone of my radio knowledge colleagues to tell them I've been plucked for national stardom and I'm believing knowledge.

I thought it best to stay on site where I could better observe slash boyfriend slash monitor them.

I thought nothing of this until several years later.

I thought, wow, if Clarkson could hear this spiel.

I took a deep breath and prepared to introduce myself.

I took another step into the street and bellowed at the sky.

I totally ignore her, partly out of pain, partly because I'm still angry at her countrymen for taking part in the Vichy regime.

I toyed with the idea of doing an arena gig, but quickly ruled it out.

I trapped my hand in a door earlier, so my hand hurts and my signature might end up looking a bit weird.

I trudged back to the car and pulled steadily away.

I truly found peace in the gentle side to side Bob of her trot.

I turn off the TV and head into the kitchen to treat myself to a bowl of cocoa pops with hot milk. Heavenly.

I understood that there wasn't much in the pot to spend on marketing.

I used to run along country lanes with my assistant driving behind like a Baptist curb crawler.

I walked out in front of an audience of 400 tipsy sales execs.

I want to be fair to Carol. Yes, she's mind blowingly selfish. Yes, she takes grumpiness to a staggering new level.

I wanted another slice of quiche and another half are better.

I wanted to create the perfect home rather than an art installation with a built in toilet.

I wanted you all to know first, but in a few moments I'll share the news with my listeners.

I was a bit nervous as I hadn't been jogging for years and wasn't sure I'd be able to remember what to do.

I was about to drive to the modest bungalow my assistant shared with her racist mother.

I was absolutely adamant that that's what the show should be called because I didn't feel that other names were as good as that one.

I was also injecting seed capital into a number of exciting business ventures.

I was approached by Matt and Mario from a production company called AAA Productions.

I was at Polytechnic at the time and had popped him for a bite to eat.

I was awarded my child, and I cradled him against the crook of my elbow.

I was banging about in the cellar trying to find a pewter tankard that a friend of mine, Pete Gabbitas, had suggested it could be worth a fair bit of money.

I was being recognized in hotel bars, train stations.

I was deeply moved by what I saw at the paper mill the following day.

I was driven to go out into the world of broadcasting and succeed.

I was fully prepared to be the big man and chat to each employee individually to ensure that there were no hard feelings.

I was fully prepared to walk if they didn't see to my demand.

I was going to dress up as David Beckham but in the end I didn't as I was in a bad mood on the day.

I was good at it and felt no real calling to be on stage.

I was in solid fettle, slim, happy, professionally successful. I was a published author, no less.

I was in the early evangelical flush of forward solutions.

I was in the early, early, early stages of repurposing up with the passage for TV, and the pilot script for Swallow had received admiring glances whenever I left it, poking out of my bag.

I was in two minds about whether to include intimate details of my sex life in this book.

I was introduced to the station controller Peter Crowther.

I was just about to ask him to turn the Lollipop to go when he did just that.

I was lucky enough to have dinner with the general manager of Newport Pagnell Services M1.

I was never given the chance to make my much wanted TV shows.

I was over at V Centre preparing to interview a bantamweight boxer.

I was panicking. There was no point in spending my time conflating 2 well known phrases or sayings into a third that, while making grammatical sense, had no value as a metaphor.

I was particularly pleased with this line because it's the sort of thing I'd usually think of long, long afterwards and then admonish myself for not having come up with it at the time.

I was pleased he'd come to the last show of the series because by this point my new look was really taking shape.

I was pleased that I wasn't making television programs. I was happy.

I was plucked for a special kind of firefighting role.

I was receiving more sexual advances than ever before, many of them from women.

I was receiving the kind of countrywide exposure that few of the Norfolk alumni had ever experienced.

I was rigged up with one of those cordless mics that you fixed to your head.

I was sexually assaulted, I had my pants removed and ass exposed by hooligans at a live Comic Relief event.

I was so ashamed by my behaviour that I retreated into my shell like a turtle wood if it realised it was about to have a car reverse over its head.

I was so blown away by John's pitch, I don't think I ate a single g****.

I was so mad last night I was considering fighting fire with fire.

I was somehow aware of the tax implications of dying intestate.

I was starry eyed, my mind addled with possibility and adventure.

I was temporarily fostered by this kindly family in 1961.

I was unable to finish the lasagna she'd cooked and only had a small amount of dessert.

I was waiting for Carol when she got back from the gym that evening.

I was well paid and given unlimited buffet access.

I was witnessing the start of a whole new era of petrol station excellence.

I was woken one night by a text from my assistant.

I wasn't 100% convinced of its ability to cure a fat back.

I wasn't envisaging that dental would come and go like a weather girl or a traffic and travel person.

I wasn't expecting him to pucker up each morning and kiss my rump.

I wasn't going to let him pay for the meal, so I took 100 pound note and slotted it into the waiters cleavage. And he did have a cleavage.

I wasn't invited to Rosie Mayes, birthday drinks, Peter O'hanrahan Summer BBQ, all the funeral of Ted Moe's little girl. Although, to be fair, neither was anyone else.

I went right up to him, bared my gums and made a loud fizzing noise in his face.

I whipped it into the shape of a 60 minute presentation and alongside my radio work.

I will be staying in a static caravan. See Picture Section A10 footer from the yet to be bet at Delta Range.

I winced at her utter inability to lie and pledged to find her £10 later on.

I woke at seven with a bit of milk on my face, but also a genuine sense of clarity and certainty.

I won't dwell on what happened, other than to say that our attempts to enter the Guinness Book of Records by pulling the world's biggest ever Christmas cracker.

I won't have been the first British chat show host to kill a man on air, and I won't be the last, but I make no excuse for what happened.

I won't say too much about her. I've no doubt she'll be listening to this.

I worked on a style of glad handing that I felt sure would ingratiate myself to more important people and earn me a reputation of being a charming TV personality.

I would also advise you to avoid wearing a head mic on one side of your head.

I would ask questions the guests would answer as if in conversation and after a few trial runs.

I would forget about BBC One and BBC Two's.

I would have loved to have seen what kind of speed it would have reached on the open Rd.

I would have pumped the man so full of seed capital it would have been coming out of his bum up to a seeding of £999.

I would have said see you in school, but we'd both left a few years before and around sounded more threatening anyway.

I would have spoken, but I'd just cycled the equivalent of a full marathon.

I would routinely have to let myself into the House where I'd be on my own.

I wouldn't bet on that. I count her as a pregnant woman overtakes me.

I wouldn't cry at, say, an unexpectedly large MOT bill.

I wouldn't dream of upsetting the guy because I know he has a bit of a temper.

I, on the other hand, kept insisting on air that we were a damn good radio station.

I'd already betrayed the trust of my digital devotees by introducing a sidekick at all.

I'd amused, I'd chatted help, amused chat.

I'd arrived with nothing other than a Slazenger backpack, a selection of snacks and sandwiches, a spare shirt and tie, a notebook, pens, pencils, pencil sharpener, first aid kit and emergency 50 pe...

I'd be able to feed an extended family of, say, 20.

I'd be glimpsed at the back of lecture halls ghosting through the student union with a glass of cider or shushing idiots in the library.

I'd even heard impressive reports about the Kuwait M84-AB.

I'd even heard rumours that owners didn't mind the backbreaking job of collecting up the cuttings afterwards.

I'd felt absolutely fine in the hearse. In fact, I enjoyed the ride.

I'd go into a steakhouse or a swimming pool and people would turn and exchange knowing glances.

I'd heard that BP had done a pretty awesome job on the refurb of one of their garages.

I'd helped her to avoid both the downpour and who knows.

I'd honestly never been this excited about a format since Noel Edmonds sat me down with a pen and paper and explained the winning strategy for deal or no deal.

I'd lean on the gate, unwrap a Twix, and watch as the ponies got groomed.

I'd lie there, absentmindedly tossing my ball bag from one hand to the other.

I'd like to say I came out of the hole ordeal older and wiser.

I'd like to see if they've uploaded any new pictures of treacle.

I'd like to thank me in the odd fragment have met again in the years since.

I'd literally flock to anyone. It didn't matter if they were travelling into Norfolk.

I'd made-up my mind, after all. It's simply that I can't muster the will to speak.

I'd often fill the bath, get in, then put the shower on too.

I'd only been sat down for a matter of seconds when a hush descended over the carriage.

I'd received the good news during an intervention. Carol's brother Tim was drinking too much, so it effectively ambushed him in our lounge, and I was pleased that my own success could, in a small w...

I'd rushed downstairs every Christmas and rip open my presents, hoping against hope that one of the boxes contained a human baby.

I'd seen him in Bournemouth at House seasons Way back in 1979.

I'd shadow my colleagues sitting in on other shows to pick up tips, learn techniques or take ideas wholesale, and on one occasion staying at the studio for two days straight.

I'd sometimes buy one of the small ones while queuing at a supermarket checkout.

I'd sometimes get up in the night and eat a whole Toblerone to myself.

I'd spend hours in HMV's, virgin megastores and secondhand record shops staffed by Greasy Head 40 year olds dressed as 20 year olds.

I'd spotted a pimple developing on my neck roughly 3 inches South of my left earlobe.

I'd watch endless repeats of birds of a feather.

I'll admit, there was a certain awkwardness to those early romps.

I'll get Barish into Bloomingdale, explain himself when I next interview him.

I'll remain above the fray. That's for you, the reader, to decide.

I'm a friend of Dale Winter, for example, one of the gayest men in Europe.

I'm about to start work for an organization that needs absolutely no introduction, qualification, or explanation.

I'm back at that tree as an 8 year old child, my nose still bleeding, but it should scab up in a few minutes.

I'm beeping my horn outside Denton's flat no later than 8:50 AM.

I'm bravely playing down some of those hardships I faced in a way that critics might choose to describe as stoical.

I'm continually staggered by her failure to graft 9 predictive text.

I'm doing a good thing day in, day out except weekends.

I'm fairly sure one that a roast potato fall out of his mouth.

I'm giving you 36 hours off whether you like it or not.

I'm going to have had a cooked weight of the best part of 190 pounds.

I'm going to remain close until the onset of my difficult adolescent years.

I'm going to revert to both the first person and the past tense now.

I'm in full agreement that women should enjoy sexual equality with men and not feel expected to live up to an unrealistic ideal.

I'm in such a hurry I end up pressing the flesh of a couple of people who aren't even on the payroll.

I'm in the process of making a YouTube video about the case under the banner of Alan Partridge Scrutinises.

I'm not going to go on about head mics and bulk out my word count with technical details.

I'm not sure exactly how old she was, but she was good looking for her age.

I'm obviously not interested in what she has to say, so when I finished speaking, I pressed the buttons on my phone in order to drown out her protests with the ketones.

I'm often asked if I have a manager or agent and instead of answering with words.

I'm perpetually analyzing my relevance and fitness for purpose.

I'm proud to say I achieved the rank of patrol leader in no time with six good scouts under my command.

I'm reliably informed that lorry driver cleanup costs are budgeted for every service station in the UK.

I'm sorely tempted to spit into the bastard's mouth, but don't.

I'm standing in front of a building that is literally steeped in history.

I'm surprised she had time to get any actual work done.

I'm told by my assistant that it only took about a month.

I'm told that some men have written entire books about the experience of becoming a father.

I'm worried it might be taken as a sign of affection by any sexual deviance in the crowd.

I've advised him to have a couple of drinks before he came on to loosen himself up a bit.

I've always thought it's odd how little press attention these stories get.

I've been asked many times what happened next when the camera stopped rolling and the audience filled out. What happened to Muggins here?

I've been in the BBC club enjoying a buffet put on to celebrate 26 years of tomorrow's world.

I've been living in it for three years anyway, parked up in the garden of a kindly farmer.

I've been through it myself some 25 years earlier and that experience. See Page 3.

I've convinced myself of all these things.

I've had a scale drawing of your face tattooed on my stomach.

I've heard of the phrase a healthy sex life, but this was ridiculous.

I've invested a great deal of hope in Allen being a fixture on mainstream TV for years and years to come.

I've just blown my previous personal best for fleeing across fields right out of the water.

I've just turned his testicles into a couple of bollock pancakes and it feels good.

I've long lobbied the BBC for the reintroduction of a primetime TV homosexual.

I've not forgotten them, having not known what they were called in the first place.

I've subsequently done the same out of choice on four other occasions.

I've taken membership of choristers to provide a much needed respite from the hustle, bustle and fossil.

I've told you there's no point keeping those. They're not tax deductible.

I've tried several other designs since, but have honestly never bettered this one.

Ideally to me, but had a push anyone with the UK citizenship?

Identifying clues to help me track a stricken comrade.

If advertisers slash architects were even a fraction as clever as they think they are.

If any of you are on the market for a headset MIC, aerobic instructors, business leaders, the people at the market who sell chips, crockery, let me give you a piece of solid gold advice.

If anyone came close, I would rear up, spread my wings and chase them across the park.

If ever a TV channel needed helping out of a hole, it was BBC Two 1993 to 1994.

If he was particularly unlucky, it would have been a bouncing Betty. These horrible little devices are designed to spring 3 feet into the air before exploding and inflicting the maximum number of c...

If he wasn't at the chiropodist or his daughter's graduation, he was on holiday, in the Gambia or in a broken lift.

If I can cut across the retail park, I should should.

If I could have given my legs to that soldier after being killed in a car accident, perhaps.

If I have the time, I'll sketch it out and put it in the appendix entirely free of charge.

If I really couldn't bear to consort with homosexuals.

If I stop broadcasting on the TV or radio, well, I don't know what happens because I've never let it come to pass.

If I was feeling like a challenge, I'd kick out the plug, turn the taps on and see if I could maintain the exact water level.

If I'd been a philanderer, this period of my life would have been a Turkey shoot.

If I'm honest, the role does little to advance the fight and causes neither of us any injuries.

If it had been her neck, it would have been curtains for both her.

If it hadn't been for the other room in Maxwell's home.

If it looks like we're having sexual intercourse in here, please respect our privacy.

If memory serves, he needed a new Ethernet cable from PC World.

If only because that kind of addiction has not really been done before.

If other shows were a normal sized packet of crisps on the hour was very much a grab bag.

If pushed, though, I'd have to say my favorite was Sally Gunnell.

If someone said they were deejaying on an FM frequency, you'd think they were on pirate radio. Sad FM.

If the BBC thought I was going to sit around waiting for them to Mull over a second series, or have yet more meetings, or conclude a criminal investigation into a man's death, they had another thin...

If the caravan's rocking, don't come knocking.

If there was one disappointing aspect to this, it was that the young soldier next to me was the only person not to applaud.

If there's something vain or self-serving about spending £29,000 in real terms.

If they boycott your services, you're looking at a total net loss of £4.95.

If they were taller, shorter than they appeared on TV, and generally providing helpful info on the production process.

If this had been mindless vandalism against cars, I would have laid him out there and then. Seriously, I'd have knocked his teeth out.

If we're going down the assets route, then we're talking house.

If you don't love someone and don't want to hang around with them anymore.

If you ever needed to go head to head with him in an impromptu Lim audit, there would only be 1 winner.

If you told me that they would do this at the height of the Christmas shopping period.

If you want to make the leap to TV, I do, Desi do, I thought to myself, but didn't say out loud.

If you're in a wheelchair, for God's sake, keep away from the top of the stairs.

If you're in the area, by the way, can I urge you to drop in at the King's arms in Barningham?

If you're interested, I'm relatively OK with the aim of digital radio.

If you're standing, sit down. If you're driving, pull over.

Imagine Henry the eighth had commissioned nay ordered, Redrow and Barrett to create a modern 21st century house.

Imagine you're forcing all six pieces of bad news, a divorce, multiple career snubs, accusations from the family of a dead celebrity, estranged kids, borderline homelessness, that kind of thing int...

Imagining my face on the billboards that massively spruce up Holland Park and then make shepherds Bush roundabout a pleasure to circumnavigate.

Immediately I figure out that Maxwell isn't a Good Samaritan.

In 1967, I misdiagnosed myself with cancer of the ball bag.

In 1990, I was fortunate enough to see a steward badly hurt at an archery competition.

In 1994 I was named TV Quicks Man of the Moment.

In 2001, it moved to a new site around the corner from the University of East Anglia.

In 91, I was sent out to Tokyo to cover the athletics World Championships.

In a British hotel by any non OAP.

In a clear contravention of my marital vows, I began sleeping with the guy.

In a clear indication that he was still on the sauce, bursting out laughing.

In a funny kind of way. And at first it was very funny.

In a meeting with a senior executive from Fenway Plastics.

In a recent raffle, I won an afternoon driving saloon cars around Brands Hatch.

In a split second, I've reached my car, slid across the bonnet and got inside. I cracked the engine.

In a way that shredded any remnants of honour or integrity they may have had.

In an act of contrition, I ground myself for a week.

In badminton, if you win a rally, you get one point. In volleyball, if you win a rally, you get one point. In tennis, if you win a rally, you get 15 points for the first.

In Britain, people have very wary of seeking help for problems that occur around the head, brain or mind.

In fact, I became such a fixture there. I heard one member of staff quietly refer to me as Karl Marx.

In fact, I was delighted when I learned that he wasn't invited to Fernando's wedding.

In fact, I've seen some of them in bars and restaurants in Norwich during my chat show heyday.

In fact, it was a savvy move designed to keep the deaf onside.

In fact, least of all for the cracking animal noises was a glaring weakness of his.

In fact, Maxwell has very cleverly used the cactus on the windowsill.

In fact, she hated racists as much as she hated homosexuals.

In fact, some of them called me Maverick behind my back, I think.

In fact, the consensus was that the show renamed the day-to-day.

In front of me were rows and rows of books.

In his hand as some sort of weapon. I don't get a chance to look properly.

In Ireland, due to shortage of office facilities, it's quite normal to have a strategic business meeting in another man's lounge.

In late 1997, I was bald deep in a project that looked set to revolutionise the business travel market.

In London, I may have been just another face in an already star-studded media landscape.

In modern times, those with upper lip coverage seem to have been pretty good eggs, with the exception of Saddam Hussein, Joseph Stalin, Adolf, you know who, and several others.

In my BC days, no one was more proud of my success.

In my hand was a golden envelope containing the most important pieces of paper I'd ever clutched.

In my mind, I was living in an old hillcroft atop the coolin on the Isle of Skye.

In my time at the hospital, I was broadcasting live during the deaths of some 800 patients.

In other words, my assistant loved her mum 12% more than I'd calculated.

In other words, she'd achieved through genetics and poverty.

In reference to some pseudo religious team version of step aerobics.

In retrospect, I guess the BBC snub was the real seconder.

In retrospect, I'd taken my eye off the ball and allowed certain boundaries of acceptable behaviour to become blurred.

In terms of weight, I effectively had a large Midget wrapped around my internal organs.

In the 10 years I'd come up with that view, how many people had ever agreed with me?

In the case of the latter, I immediately gave my assistant 36 hours off.

In the corner of the room, rock around the clock by Bill Haley blasts from the radio.

In the end I have to do the shakes increasingly quickly as I've noticed people have started to drift away.

In the end it was changed to mid morning matters, which was a good name because it did matter, and running from 10:00 AM to 2:00 PM occupied a time that everyone would agree was known as mid morning.

In the end, I got my assistant to leave a box of chocolates on a cenotaph.

In the end, I sorted myself out by using a simple but effective visualization technique taught to me by either Paul McKenna or Russ Abbott. I forget which.

In the end, the group persuaded me that knowing me, knowing you was better, so we chose that one instead.

In the end, we decided to follow our hearts and book it.

In the intervening years, I've received a great many letters from gunsmiths.

In the last 100 years, there must have been more divorces than marriages.

In the late 80s, that one day my local branch of Tandy would shut its doors to the public so that Alan Partridge could browse its electricals in peace.

In the main, that's down to me. Work commitments have made it simply unfeasible.

In the morning, the cleaners were fine. Neat little piles of it next to where the lorries had been.

In the North Norwich District HQ in Cottagey.

In the post apocalyptic aftermath of a nuclear war.

In the preceding seven months alone, I presented forward solutions to the staff of Clinton cards in Kings Lynn, to Fords of knowledge to the entire company of Bulwark IT security.

In what circumstances was I at my most fecund?

In which we began to sue and count to sue each other on a juvenile tit for tat basis.

Incandescent with rage, I slammed my fist down onto the reception desk.

Include that the family was marred by a proclivity for child molestation.

Including a quick pit stop at Wetherby services for petrol.

Incredibly, the rights to swallow are still available for purchase.

Indeed, with severely arthritic fingers, every swish of the baton is agony for him.

Industry awards and repeated praise from TV Quick magazine are all very well, but it gives me immense pride to think that the final voice these 800 plus people heard.

Instantly it struck me that if their thing was intimidating intellect, my thing could be beverage related hygiene. Of course, later I remembered that I already had a thing, namely Sport Pros Paraly...

Instantly my confidence returned to its normal level.

Instantly, I'm hurled into the belly of a dilemma.

Instantly, the fingers of my right hand start to curl inwards. Within seconds our fist has been formed. I launch it directly at my assailant's eye.

Instead, he would be by my side throughout, free to lob in a gag at literally any time.

Instead, I dug into my savings and had pronto print make 2500 Flyers, which I left in piles on the tables of Starbucks and Cafe Nero.

Instead, much of our effort went into the production of our annual gang show.

Instead, my efforts were focused on a new and exciting venture.

Instead, the station would become digital only.

Instinctively focusing on topics someone like him will relate to.

Instructing her to scour a long wave radio for far-flung stations and then tape entire shows.

Interestingly, Glenn and I have developed an unspoken but quietly effective Ness.

Interestingly, Mccomb's career ending back complaint is so cripplingly debilitating.

Into the small but high quality SEER faces.

Irish long haired layabouts. Wrongfully inverted commas convicted of bombing England.

Ironically, bespectacled producers peeked out from behind laptops.

Ironically, the three weeks I subsequently had to take off work very nearly cost me my job.

Is best illustrated in our choice of garden furnishings.

Is directly proportional to the instantaneous value of the input signal amplitude.

Is penning a pretty rude lower division football manager down on his team's disgraceful disciplinary record?

Is that FM was at one time the gold standard for UK radio.

Is very, very, very, very, very very.

It all stemmed from someone telling me I'd feel better off if I exercised.

It allows the adventurous host to try his hand at any type of food.

It comes in centimeter wide segments that together form a rounded pentahydrate shape.

It could be that she had a poor memory for faces and didn't have access to a television set, I thought.

It did because financial difficulties in later life.

It doesn't even matter that I'm wearing a shirt, tie and blazer. Nor that instead of running shoes, I have faux leather shoes bought from a supermarket.

It gave me the opportunity to live out the holiday I'd always been denied in my harrowing childhood.

It goes without saying the show will look terrific.

It had been a station in a desperate need of stability.

It had been a time of genuine upheaval for Radio Norwich.

It had taken a great deal of thought and consideration and thinking.

It has been an experience best forgotten, but shamefully in the years that followed.

It hesitates as if blinded by the light, then darts left and right.

It left the show a quite terrifying realism, which in turn gave us wonderful moments of drama.

It looked important because it was of real import.

It makes me laugh when people suggest I'm exaggerating my psychological distress to cash in on the craze for misery lit.

It makes you focus on little beyond the next fix.

It may be that she well used to work for the BBC Radio Phonic Workshop.

It may be that she'd forgotten that taking more than one would almost certainly compromise her appetite.

It may have intimated that he was mentally and physically disabled.

It might seem weird that I remember the name of a man who bought a book from me almost 15 years ago.

It probably suited the tone of a hard nosed show to have someone a bit rougher.

It provided a public, free environment for BBC staffers to Carouse and unwind.

It quickly dawned on me that here was a man whose number I needed to take.

It reminded me of the relationship between Catherine Zeta Jones. Incredibly beautiful.

It saddened me because the department was populated by Heroes of mine.

It said they consume food as avariciously as they do explicit images of children.

It seemed to me that the world of sport, with its reliance on stats, facts, trivia and rules, provided modern man with certainty and structure.

It seems now that it's not a criminal offence, it's fine for TV homosexuals to be.

It seems so right with its title reflecting my sporting heritage.

It shot forward, and with his balance now a distant memory, he came crashing to the floor.

It should have been a baseball and pitchers Mitt, but I didn't have one.

It took her two days and two nights to deposit her first born from her loins.

It turned out my assistant's mum died of colon cancer anyway, so I was absolved slash vindicated.

It turns out that he's just shouting my well known TV catch phrase ah ha ah ha ah ha. But the panic has galvanised me.

It was a bit of a blur after that. My producer Rupert Summers lost his head and said a few mean things to me.

It was a bullet fired directly into a celebrity's heart.

It was a day later and after a respectful period of mourning.

It was a full week later that I realized my mistake.

It was a man in his early 30s wearing an out there Hawaiian shirt and sporting a beard that was sort of gingery, brownie, gingery, brownie, ginger.

It was a mint condition Daimler ladder let von Domplatz.

It was a new build, so I wanted to choose off at the door.

It was a photoshopped image of me as John Rambo.

It was a pilot scheme way, way, way, way ahead of its time. Indeed, it folded within weeks.

It was a presentation I developed very gradually in my bathroom mirror.

It was a reminder of what genuinely good comedy sounds like.

It was a Ruby red birthday cake with my name piped onto it in reasonably accomplished joined up writing.

It was a session we'd go on to repeat many times in the future.

It was a shame because years later I realised we both shared a love of collecting butterflies.

It was a smashing little hospital and many of the people who went there didn't end up dead.

It was a time of sex, drums and rock'n'roll and these three things, all four things, depending on whether you count rock'n'roll as one item or two.

It was a warm evening and I was hungry for the 2.5 units of alcohol to which, as a driver, I was legally entitled.

It was a welcome revenue stream that complemented brand Partridge beautifully.

It was an incident that made me have a terrible, terrible thought.

It was an ingenious way to save businesses millions of pounds or billions of pence a year.

It was around 11:30 when his wife's Peugeot 306 Cabriolet with red interior careered off the road and into a primary school.

It was as if all my years of selfless commitment to the Norfolk community were being recognised in this one spontaneous outpouring of emotion.

It was as if I was carrying a lot of straw on my back.

It was as if I was one kind of person in my London life, not a monster.

It was as if the loss of his locks created a lackadaisical attitude to the basics of live TV.

It was as rare to see a divorce as it was to see a four leaf Clover or a black chap in a position of authority.

It was back at Shea Partridge later on as I drank a pint of water in just three gulps that had occurred to me.

It was based, of course, on the original design for Sir Christopher Cockerell's Hovercraft.

It was best they found out from me as I knew that the loss of the radio stations, Mr Sport, would hit them hard.

It was better because it was TV without the restrictive, choking, stifling, suffocating bureaucracy and creativity aborting compliance culture of the BBC.

It was different when I returned to radio. She didn't listen to Norfolk Knights.

It was easy enough for me to do this, but that wasn't the point.

It was effective. At least two of our populations resulted in children.

It was hard to know for sure as I'd now opened my eyes, thus depriving myself of the hearing boost conferred on me by blindness.

It was he who alerted me to the fact that Roy Wood could play bassoon.

It was important that I wasn't triumphalist about being recommissioned, but equally it was essential that I got one over on Dave Clifton.

It was in my first few months at the BBC that I received one of the finest pieces of advice in Britain.

It was incredible to think that the letter S such a simple concept to even the youngest of children was like a foreign country to this man.

It was incredibly unseemly and I know Gary was kept away from athletic events for a good while after that.

It was like all the best bits of living in a deluxe house, but without the constant endless hassle of having to move between rooms.

It was like swimming in the sea during a tropical downpour.

It was now home to jowls, eyes and chin that were being dragged torso, woods.

It was now home to over 5 stones of excess weight.

It was now thick, full and if I tipped my head right back.

It was one of the loudest peals of laughter since sliced bread.

It was only polite that I got in touch to offer my congratulations.

It was pretty relentless and if I'm honest, I think it's stuck in Eastwood's craw.

It was probably just an admin error or a cruel wheeze dreamt up by some of the lads at Radio Norwich.

It was really pioneered by Dave Coleman on question of sport when he tonally suggested Bill Beaumont had got an answer wrong.

It was Sheila who answered the door now, a bit mumsy, like Fran had been.

It was situated in the sweet spot between London and Norwich.

It was some comfort to me that I knew one of the team already.

It was that a lighthearted comment in which I joked that I owned my own production company.

It was the enemy in a lifelong war his mouth was never going to win.

It was the install radio station for a branch of record shop.

It was to see if I could freeze it and then bring it back to life.

It was where a starstruck Alan Partridge would buy a sandwich most days in the hope of spotting Esther Anson.

It was, I hoped, totally equidistant between Nigel Pinsent in depth and Wally Banter's junk box.

It wasn't a big deal to be honest, because I had already started thinking that I didn't want to be on BBC TV anymore, so it was fine.

It wasn't anything significant and it was certainly not in the bedroom department, a room where, to be honest, he played a blinder.

It wasn't just spoken passages culled directly from bouncing back, although some bits did double up.

It wasn't some attempt to boost my profile and secure lucrative television work.

It wasn't some kind of clever clogs psycho Babble.

It wasn't until after I'd made toilet that things started to fall into place.

It went on to say that radio Norwich was to be sold to a fast growing holding company called Gordale Media.

It will be stripped down concourse retailing in its purest form.

It worked for Dale Winton, who could switch from air kissing a commissioning editor.

It worked for me then, and I know it works for Jonathan Ross now.

It would be a system to set free the limitless potential within us all.

It would be my last chat show on BBC Television.

It would be transmitted as a series of zeros and ones reforming in the ear Terminator two style as a crystal clear facsimile of my real life voice.

It would bring a real freshness to the show to have this unique comic mind chucking in dry comments.

It wouldn't be so bad if they stayed on the lawn but last night, and forgive the language here, but they were fucking all over the herb garden.

It wouldn't do to have spent the entire show speaking like a quacking duck.

It's 1988 and a young side parted young radio reporter.

It's a contract, I said. A legal document.

It's a little known fact that Peter's grandfather, Joseph, designed the London sewer network.

It's a rare chance for US radio professionals to do our stuff in front of a real-life audience.

It's a strange truism that people tend to feel sorry for a man whose house is a travel Tavern.

It's a technique my editor at Harper Collins feels worked particularly well in the charter where I described my own birth.

It's an open secret in the BBC that you smell like cheese.

It's an open secret that the TARDIS noise was made by a BBC engineer scraping his keys down the fat wires inside a piano.

It's an unusual sight, certainly a person lying there with a big rod coming out of them.

It's as if they're people have cast off the state imposed grumpiness of communism and are now grabbing life with both hands.

It's barely even a shake. It's more of a grip and release.

It's funny. When you move from a hotel to a detached house in a 10 foot static home, people are quick to assume you're down on your luck financially.

It's generous sugar content. Some are taking me higher.

It's hard to describe what it's like to lose your mother, but Harper Collins have insisted I try.

It's hard to think of architects as genuinely creative people.

It's just occurred to me that in the previous chapter, when I said I spent the night with Glenn Ponder, I should make clear I meant.

It's just old lady gravity getting her way.

It's like a who's who of the companies I'd done work for in 92.

It's me, I exclaimed. I am that tree. I personify its standout quality.

It's my privilege to say they were some of the most dazzling young broadcasters I'd ever had the pleasure of working with.

It's no exaggeration to say that it nearly blew me back against the car.

It's none other than my deejaying nemesis Dave Clifton.

It's not easy, but I'm confident that if I move my good foot quickly enough.

It's not even as if I wanted to live a particularly long life as a child, I would have been satisfied to reach my mid 30s.

It's not even like we could go foraging into Suffolk for scraps.

It's not for single parents, asylum seekers, football hooligans, people in care or criminals. Unless white collar and sorry.

It's not what he would have wanted, but in a way that helped.

It's Pepsi or Shirley from Pepsi and Shirley.

It's rare that I notice a man's palm piss because my own inner hands tend to work up a torrent of clamminess straight after towelling.

It's Skittles, the insane superfan in the blink of an eye.

It's surprising how many of these techniques can be used to track an enemy or errant spouse.

It's the equivalent of saying if you like beef burgers, don't eat them, or if you hate London, go and live there.

It's the old lady I've seen from the studio window moments before.

It's the tale of stubbornness, broken promises, broken dreams.

It's then the present tense used in this passage is not a literary device, so that this next bit comes as a surprise.

It's true what the Bible says. I'm used to myself on their wedding day.

It's what Jesus of Nazareth would have had in mind as he turned loaves and fishes.

It's wrong to call them mothers. There's no way any of them had been through pregnancy.

ITV got cold feet in the end and decided not to take the show.

Jason had been promoted to an assistant producer and had a newfound confidence since his psoriasis had cleared up.

Jason suggested I save it until the end of the series so that I could maintain concentration, which I did.

Jesus, what happened to your ankle? He asks, leading his head out of that little cabin they sit in.

Joe did his best to trade on the disastrous TV appearance.

Joe was streets ahead of his time, writing his own material and bringing a fresh perspective to the art of stand up comedy.

Join the fucking queue, mate, I said with my eyes.

Just as a well fitting jockstrap cups the cock and balls of a sportsman.

Just as important as my mental health was my physical shape.

Just before I entered the building, the security guard catches my eye. He looks a bit down, or rather more depressed than usual.

Just like a young chimp raised by humans, your grief can seem totally under control.

Just one, she replied greedily, eyeing up my full bag of fish crunches.

Just swing by my office tomorrow and we can hammer all that out.

Just take the number one singles from my first year on the job, 1975.

Just thinking that you lot have probably got T aids.

Just to be certain I was making the right decision, I consulted my assistant.

Just wanted to check on you, I said. In an arm around the shoulder kind of way.

Keen to defend her honour, he flicks his wrist to and fro in the international gesture for masterbator.

Keen to get out there and improve lives, so I'd slapped the door of my Lexus and suggested that if he improved his literacy and appearance, he could drive one of these.

Keep away from the windows and await further instructions.

Know what happens next, and I won't spoil the excitement for others by revealing it now.

Knowing me, knowing you sang that Jeff Lovell girls and as the track reached its conclusion.

Knowing me, knowing you would be broadcast from a studio 25% larger than asplan companies.

Knowing me, knowing Yule was to be broadcast five days later.

Knowing she was from a former Soviet country where human rights atrocities are commonplace.

Krispy Kreme dirty dozen Peter Purvis SSS the s s.

Labeled brilliant by one of the finest headmasters I've worked under.

Last time my fan belt went, I was in the middle of Norfolk at 2:00 AM and I had to flag down a woman's car and demand that she make the phone call for me. She was really scared, but then so was I.

Last year I broadcast wearing a full suit of armour.

Laughing along with me at this guy's working classiness.

Launched their fabulous wild bean cafes.

Learning much about my capabilities and the ins and outs of female anatomy.

Less so for those on the sofa, in bed, or reading aloud to a blind friend or lover.

Let me just lay to rest here and now, a baseless accusation.

Let me tell you something for a man who works five days a week in the BBC.

Let's just say that what I regarded as gentle joshing of the opposite sex.

Lethargy plus Toblerone equals obesity.

Letters that had been formed into words by a kindly typist.

Lie on the kitchen floor and place their genitals within spitting distance of one another.

Lies in spending hours perfecting the release mechanism of a flintlock pistol.

Like a human kebab, or if you prefer some kind of lady Lolly.

Like a quiet wife or a sidelined application for planning permission.

Like most men of his generation, he'd returned from the war a changed man.

Like my now completed house, I opted for the name Classic House.

Like Obama after he'd just scored a slam dunk on the White House court.

Like some sort of confectionery Anne Frank.

Like the bubbles and the glasses of champagne I would have been enjoying if I'd like the taste of champagne.

Like the sound of a piece of flesh hitting a nearby piece of flesh.

Like tiny pieces of a snowman who had stood on a landmine.

Lina may have been unencumbered by disability, but he was also a senior figure in the BBC of the 90s and as such he was contractually entitled to use these roomier facilities whenever he wished.

Listeners, please Don your Kevlar body armour and retreat from the blast zone, taking care to position yourself behind a wall or stationary vehicle.

Literally shaking at how right. How Ruddy, correct.

Literally, in the case of Fairview, ride on lawn mowers.

Literally, in the case of those hearing this on the train or bus or in the car.

Little did I realise that we would never be this happy again.

Live on air in the 6th and final episode of my chat show.

Local entrepreneurs would come up to me in my room. I'd lie on my bed eating g****s like an emperor and quietly listen to their pictures.

Looks like Anthony Eden's about to be named Prime Minister.

Looks like I got the kidneys, then I roar, still inside my head.

Losing his waist length Corkscrew curls in favour of a shorter, smarter style.

Lovely day, says an old cardigan woman towing a tartan shopping trolley.

Lying on my back, I mean not my front, I was in a state of relaxation rather than internment.

M73M80M9A9M90 and then.

Macomb didn't just squawk smelly. Alan farted at me a few times.

Macomb. Rarely, if ever straight into my consciousness now.

Made more complicated by Lisa's vindictive Employment tribunal.

Make you stop laughing and make you stop crying.

Making me an attractive proposition for even the most toxic brands.

Making television programmes and earning north of 200K per annum as a result.

Making unflattering comparisons to his own and to the majority of my classmates.

Manny was the time I'd see Nicholas Witchell sitting all alone in the canteen.

Many of the people who pledged money to the port of Africa were only happy to see the cash reach the needy if they could first peer at my naked anus.

Many years later, I contacted Dave and asked him to come present my show on hospital radio.

Marriage is dead, I shouted to the listeners of mid morning matters not six weeks ago. Then I paused for dramatic effect and to finish my mouthful of sandwich.

Marx offers a wonderfully forgiving returns policy, but even they would draw the line at snotty grundies.

Maverick disk jockeys flouting regulations to give Lester something new and fresh.

Maxwell begins to chant a terrifying noise.

Maybe even Coco van. Sometimes just a quick can of soup.

Maybe it was financial reasons. Maybe I'd passed mums cervix.

McComb let's not bother with first names. Was and is, I'm sure.

Me exploring her body with my quivering hands.

Me for its ample parking and easy access to junction five of the AK47.

Me. I put it down to a combination of all these factors.

Meandering anticlockwise through the corridors of laughing liberals.

Meant he ended up as a casual labourer in his 60s.

Meant I was freed from the obligation of keeping up to date with contemporary music trends. Instead, I could continually revisit music.

Meant that all the audience could hear was her calling me a petty little secret.

Meanwhile, Anne Diamond is one of the nicest people I've met.

Meanwhile, the statuses of acquaintance, business partner or lover could all be achieved on a good day with a fair wind inside 90 minutes.

Memories. People from my past significant achievements danced before me like I imagine they would if I was sitting at a fire after drinking the potion in some kind of voodoo ceremony.

Menopause or sourcing sex from an alternative supplier?

Merely providing award-winning snippets of sporting headlines would have left them shortchanged and angry.

Microwave pasties reheat and eat pies. Packaged sandwiches. The choice of perishables was truly humbling.

More impressively, they'd worked out that they could induce a hemorrhage themselves by tethering me to the roundabout with the strap of my own school bag and letting the centrifugal force do the rest.

More likely caused by wide band impulsive noise generated by nearby heating thermostat.

More privately, he'd bought a series of vintage Bentleys but didn't know how to drive them, secretly preferring his Toyota Avensis.

More worryingly was the risk of my job being given to someone else.

Most notably in the BBC canteen for behind a newspaper.

Most of them took it well and showed tremendous stoicism, displaying almost no emotion.

Most people just ended up thinking he had learning difficulties, which to my mind he definitely does.

Motorway rambles a travelogue of Maine, walking the hard shoulders of British highways with special permission from the British Transport Police.

Mottled Gray and measuring a good 15 hands. You could just tell that she.

Mouth dry, head spinning, and suddenly keen for a poo.

Much like a Masonic Lodge, it provided a meeting point where the region's most important people could get together, share ideas and do each other clandestine favours.

Much like most of the patients on the Marie Curie wing, my days were numbered.

Much like Tom Robinson from the Tom Robinson band, he's now sorted himself out and has a couple of kids.

Mukum worked for several years in the warehouse of British Leyland before a back injury scuppered his forklift truck driving.

Mum said he came back from the war with a rage that never went away.

Mum, he said cheerfully. I'm off to save a Jew or two.

Music is a powerful emotional catalyst and research suggests.

My abiding memory of them is that they were having a relationship.

My aim was to take the presentation on a tour of the major theatres around the country.

My assistant being an idiot 3. Maybe 4.

My assistant said that wasting so much money on treat food was immoral.

My assistant says I stopped checking her expense claims for some time.

My assistant still harbours an openly bigoted dislike of Glenn and his husband.

My assistant was busy double checking my Sainsbury's receipt for any instances of overcharging.

My assistant would pop round to the house every day to drop off food, do the dishes, flush the loo.

My attitude for not tying meant that I was called into action as a stagehand, hogging up scenery panels, then lowering them down again.

My brain had half a dozen thumbs pushing into it.

My breathing was shallow, my limbs were shaking and my sweating palms were crying out for the absorbative powers of a shammy leather.

My clothes were and would remain somewhere in the sweet spot between smart and smart casual.

My crime? Taking my wisdom and sharing it with people who would never develop it off their own bat.

My demons haven't been exercised, they've been rounded up and shot.

My drink and drugs. Heck had taken me to places I never wanted to go.

My eyes filled with a burning white light and ABBA drenched my brain. Ah, I boomed.

My eyes peeped out redly from a pair of collapsed lids.

My fans are expecting 3 hours of quality radio delivered mid air.

My friend, I said. You're wearing a high visibility jacket with a T-shirt that says Rage Against the machine on it.

My gowns spread apart like the curtain of an old proscenium arch theatre to reveal A1 man show by John Thomas.

My job wasn't on pirate radio. That would have been a criminal offence.

My long Poly brochure arrived this morning, so I've just been looking at holidays, he started.

My measure of success. And it stood me in pretty good stead over the years.

My mind blasted by the twin concerns of spilt cake.

My mind diving and soaring into a new ecstasy.

My mind drifted back to my earliest broadcasts on hospital radio.

My mind was already on the next exciting stage of my life.

My mouth and chin were stained brown from all the binged chocolate.

My only concern is that he may be preparing to use a weapon.

My only focus now was on bouncing back.

My previous work, a funny thing happened on the way to the stadium to Alan Partridge by Alan Partridge.

My professionalism was such that I didn't betray even a flicker of displeasure on camera.

My project was in the works a full six months before the 1st transmission of the show.

My refusal to dumb down. If anything, I'd dumbed up.

My sex life post Carol had been as threadbare as the gusset of my #1 dad novelty briefs.

My show came directly before the graveyard slot of Dave Clifton.

My show would combine all that was good about its alliterative brothers just mentioned.

My skin was as shrivelled as an over microwaved pea.

My son was teaching me about quadratic equations at the time, and although I had convinced him that they were genuinely irrelevant in real life.

My strategy of combining searingly honest admissions about my own life.

My TV career was bulldozed by a short sighted Commissioner who I'm delighted to say is now dead.

My wife has scurried across my windscreen. Back and forth, back and forth.

Myself and the RT execs had hit it off in what I can only describe as a big way.

Name any of the major advertising campaigns from 86 through 91 Dunfield carpets.

Nana Mouskouri, John Denver. The seekers. The new seekers.

Nando's efficiency system, in which we ensure that a second is not wasted.

Naturally, I couldn't wait to start quizzing him about the almost comical mismatch between the domestically built T72 tanks used by the Iraqis.

Naysayers have suggested that I'm dramatizing details of my early years.

Nearby, diners who'd been secretly eavesdropping on our summit gasped and stared.

Neither had anyone been punched in the face with a Turkey hand, and in a way, he was right.

Never before had I been so badly in need of a metal detector.

Never before had I been so irked by vulpine intimacy.

Never the most upbeat of motoring journalists, something was up with quints.

Nick was ballsy. He'd been in charge of the big revamp at Radio Norwich, which, to the naked eye, comprised of a new aluminum handrail by the steps and a slightly bigger sanserif font on the signage.

Nick, his skin now cloaked in a bumpy rash as a result of work related stress and a wholly inadequate hygiene routine.

No chance. He's old school and is aware that a disproportionately high amount of crime is committed by the unemployed and asylum seekers.

No doubt intent on returning to their desks to switch off their e-mail, take their phones off the hook and give themselves a few minutes to get their heads straight.

No doubt pilfered by a new convert to my fresh rock sounds.

No doubt we'll end up down the pub swapping stories about people with no money.

No matter, because new satellite channel UK conquest was sniffing around like a Randy dog who'd picked up the musky excellence of another dog's vagina.

No matter. I was back on the telly and things were better than ever.

No one has had a problem with me when I left the station back in 1991.

No prizes for guessing which of us is the smelly one now.

No, a sexual relationship with this woman would have been quite wrong.

No, far from being a downbeat end to the series, I was in high spirits.

No, forward solutions was a potentially lucrative, potentially helpful, potentially global life improvement program that having helped me, could potentially help other people.

No, genuinely good music has been created since 1988.

No, I was doing pretty fine, thanks. I was approaching my 200th episode of Skirmish.

No, I was happy for the architects to mimic the red Row Boys wholesale.

No, I was wrong to suggest that they all suffered from a terminal beverage based illness.

No, I'd foreseen my career would be with other broadcasters anyway.

No, no. My TV days were dead to me and I was fine with that.

No, the person who really invented reality TV.

No, they mustn't be used all in one go. Instead, the allotted hours may be taken at anytime in the next month.

No. If anything, I embraced it. In fact, the phrase has become so synonymous with brand Partridge, I later took steps to claim some kind of entitlement to it.

No. Ohh, I shout, tossing my head back and firing my scream into the sky.

Nodding as I hear the satisfying thud of a bone on gland.

Nor was there any suggestion that Members must sacrifice livestock.

Norfolk's best music North Norfolk's best music mix.

Normally so cruel, as I think I've made abundantly clear holding a cake.

Not a day goes by when I don't think about that moment.

Not a lot of people know this, but in 1997 I spent 183 nights in a travel Tavern.

Not a play goes by without 1 character whispering something about another character that is clearly audible to that character.

Not being Privy to my train of thought, they had no idea what the tea prefix was.

Not by the mealy mouthed critics or the slippery commissioners, but by the most important people of all, the normal everyday man on the street. Slash train.

Not for them the bickering over VAT receipts or making their children pick up private cuttings in the rain.

Not just a second series, but other potential projects.

Not least because I had no shoes and felt daft.

Not least because I was starting to swell grotesquely and weight.

Not least because my mouth was still littered with bits of her recently consumed banana.

Not many people had turned up to the soiree. The 25th anniversary in 1990 had been a much bigger do.

Not me. You don't have to be best buddies with your workmates to enjoy your job, and I certainly wasn't.

Not much less than a woodwork teacher would have got in the 1970s.

Not on the server, but undeniably on the show were Joe Beasley and Cheeky Monkey.

Not only did she insist on competing with a full face of makeup and a big ballsy squirt of perfume.

Not really. Do I even remember that my face on the cover of Radio Times once led to a 2% leap in circulation?

Not sat him with cowl as she decorates her face with spare ribs sauce.

Not that I was desperate. I had plenty of ideas and I was in demand for broadcasting work elsewhere.

Not that it was my fault. I was forever bringing a rice smile to my listeners ears.

Not that she's dead. She's hit in her upper arm, which must come as some relief.

Not that this was the only consideration. I'd argued strongly that we must respect the memory of Forbes and plough on.

Not to share it. Never to share it. Not ever. No, that wasn't going to happen, pal.

Nothing comes close to the shame. Desperation.

Nothing. But she went berserk. Her attitude really, really stank sometimes.

Now I knew for a fact that truck drivers just climbed down and did it on the tarmac.

Now I thought my parents union was in the rock solid camp.

Now I've given STD's to men, women, children in some cases.

Now in these systems, the analog audio signal is digitized.

Now some of the biggest names in corporate Norfolk were Wangling 4 figure deals in my face like a large Willy.

Now the Michelin star chef proprietor of Just Willis, but at the time suffering his own psychological meltdown which manifested itself in his appearing as a transvestite Fanny Thomas.

Now this was a plus point because I love T urns still do.

Now, however, the time has come to bid you farewell.

Now, not only did I not know Keith was getting a flymo.

Now, what catapulted me to local radio glory was the fact that I'd been uninvited to a wedding at the 11th hour.

Now, when you go long term in a comfortable midrange hotel, choice of room is paramount.

O starts again, this time more slowly, gliding over every crease and crevice like some sort of very thorough snake.

Occasionally, certain young BBC starlets rider Irving Bonnet.

Occasionally, other mourners would see this happening in frown.

Occasionally, though very occasionally, someone would leave the partridges nest.

Of any wrongdoing makes you think that's something that needs denying. There isn't. There were a lovely family kept themselves to themselves and the neighbours have said they seemed.

Of course, it also meant that I was something of a mystery man on campus.

Of course, it could have been lying. After all, it's not always easy to trust the bearded.

Of course, Jimmy was found dead in his own sex shortly afterwards.

Of course, there was still the small matter of finding a publisher.

Of course, these days young professionals hot footed to pet a Manger every lunchtime to gobble down box after box of sushi.

Of course, with radio being an entirely aural medium, the mirror had no part to play.

Of course, your problem with any kind of communal drink station is the Sugar Bowl.

Of the regional digital available audience, which is 8000 people.

Of the six people on the sofa, 50% were gay.

Of the times that the smelly Alan Partridge barbs have stood me in good stead.

Ohh, I should have said this was for a suicide bid, which I didn't get round to.

Ohh. I boomed, and Sheila bolted down the hall.

OK, he had a soft spot for a portion of Chicken Chow main on a Friday night. But to be honest, who doesn't? And besides, even the most berserk Sinophile would struggle to argue that ingesting indus...

On a good day achieving its target regional digital optional share of 2%.

On another day she might have got away with it, but with a quite extraordinary weight of me on her back, the rusty nail just slid through the hoof.

On my insistence, we conducted audience research using a survey that I designed, which turned out to be chock full of insights and learnings.

On my way back from Scottish country dancing practice.

On other occasions I enjoyed erotic and informative afternoons.

On the face of it, it pertained to the distinctive aroma of scampi, but Denton and I knew it had vaginal overtones.

On the hour was edited by the redoubtable. Love that word.

On the off chance that he might be about to turn the lolly round.

On the other hand, they were moving everyone in the county onto water metres, so perhaps it wasn't a premeditated act of anti alienism.

On the pavement, people hurry and scurry both to and fro.

On the platform, I'd come across a young man who just returned from fighting in Gulf War one.

On the subject of female armpit hair, on which I had and have pretty trenchant views.

On the surface, it would appear to be half autobiography, half self-help manual.

On the title page of my pilot script for the Norwich based Detective Series Swallow.

On two late up with the Partridge on too early or mid morning matters dead.

Once for Carol's birthday, when she was going through an unfulfilled phase.

Once in every while, me and the rest of the boys would meet up for a few pints.

Once released into the glaring sunlight of the Sun, I'm hauled into the BBC for crisis talks without a care for my other meetings.

Once the top's been opened, we want to know how long you kept the fizz and how you did it.

One member of the Troop, Phil Wiley, was in my class at school.

One of the hottest broadcasters in install radio.

One of the many reasons why I often greet new acquaintances with a curt nod or a wave.

One of the most special things about going native in a travel Tavern.

One person stands out for my 8 month Travel Tavern residency.

One piece on its own seems harmless, doesn't it?

One that could easily be stretched out into a film or novella.

One thing led to another and I ended up punching a golfing cripple in the face after he made an off colour joke at my expense.

Only months earlier, I had been comprehensively DE housed by Carol.

Only to reveal at the end of the sentence that he'd got it right.

Open it, stuttered my mother nervously.

Or alternatively, people would just swivel their stools round so they didn't have to strain their necks.

Or become the talk of the town with a delicious spatchcocked chicken.

Or Dennis, Dennis and Dennis. Or Gregson, Smith, Oliver or Barrow, McGuigan bounder.

Or grab one to enjoy with a sandwich at a petrol station.

Or hescock, Greengrass, Mitchell and Matthews. I could go on, but I won't.

Or how painfully drawn out his eventual death would have been.

Or if you wanted to get the ferry, we'd pay for your petrol for the run up to Holyhead and sort you out a cabin.

Or intimate that I'm some kind of Wally can frankly EFF off.

Or junkie chasing the dinosaur in a squat.

Or maybe a ream of high grade printed paper?

Or maybe he had friends in high places.

Or out at a charity treasure hunt organised by round table.

Or pretending to like classical music. Simon Bates.

Or scoff at a naked man crying in the bath.

Or second rallies you've won in that game. Or 10 for the third, with an indeterminate amount assigned to the 4th rally.

Or the blissful relaxation engendered by crouching in the half light, flannelly sweat from my undercarriage.

Or the number of transmitters required to cover a region.

Or the use of Comic Sans font in an otherwise serious PowerPoint presentation.

Or third floor over the sound of the recording.

Ordinarily, it would be hard to tell whether it was through emotion or because the pubs had yet to open.

Other than making a winning bid for a 12 Volt automatic hammer with soft grip handle.

Other than perhaps the weather and the road works at the top of Chalk Hill Rd.

Other than those moments when I've either punched or shot people live on air, the name Alan Partridge has come to be a byword for broadcasting excellence.

Other times I'd go jogging with a Bluetooth headset on and get my assistant to type the chapters up when I spoke them to her.

Other, less angry listeners put it down to the rise of contraception.

Others are peering in through that little round window in the studio door.

Others say they have heard whispers there were discrepancies with Chris's page of the contract.

Our conversation would easily have brought home the gold.

Our current affairs show for a soon to be launched TV channel from the mind of Kelvin McKenzie.

Our final show had seen a guest appearance from Tony Hayers.

Our paths are crossed in local radio, where he'd been a fledgling producer.

Our relationship had been so complex I could write a book on it.

Out of interest, I inquired if it entitled him to a badge for his car.

Over Maxwell's, there was a painting of a topless female biker.

Over my mantelpiece, there's a painting of a country church with a herd of geese wandering past.

Over the previous few years, my body had become flooded with blubber.

Over the roar of the onrushing traffic, I heard her Winnie.

Over the years, I developed a taste for the Swiss delicacy.

Overcome with rage, I flick him the vees. Both hands.

Overtime, though, I did pluck up the confidence to join in the chitchat.

Pan right. It's a hospital room. A clammy pregnant woman lies spread eagled on the bed and is about to produce pitter patter of her own.

Partly because he was angry, and partly because he only had five minutes to get over to the other side of the zoo for the seal performance.

Patchy Productions had gone under years before after an injunction from a former goalkeeper, Ray Clemens.

Peeking out now and then from behind a strip of scampi fries.

People assume the episode must have profoundly affected me.

People had asked to know more about my background to find out who the real Alan was.

People have suggested I bottled out of taking the BBC's breach of contract to the highest court in the land.

People have tried to talk me out of it, of course. Some concerned that the jumping will compromise sound quality, others believing wrongly.

People now look to me to provide a much fuller broadcast experience.

People put the spoon back in the bowl after stirring in their sugar.

People thought I was nervous, but I wasn't nervous. Nervous of what?

People would have thought you were referring to a science fiction disease.

Perhaps I've been pushing myself too hard with the book for 11 to 12 year olds and my brain was scrambled.

Perhaps it's easier to tell you what forward solutions wasn't.

Perhaps subconsciously aware that I'd soon become a disc jockey.

Pete had been a confidant and friend and a lender of production facilities for over a decade.

Pete was a big hearted, big bellied guy who like nothing more than providing cut price production facilities to the region's most creative minds and then rounding the day off with a pint or two.

Pete was a massive fan of swallow, perhaps seeing a little of himself and the rule breaking cynic.

Peter Bazalgette of Endomorphs fame is sometimes wrongly credited with the invention of reality TV.

Phil Shepherd had them crying with laughter in the saloon bar one night last year.

Phil was always the baby of the group and had a snotty nose quality that we bullied out of him.

Phil was back then a bit of a no at all and was brought down a peg or two by off air pranks such as having his new shoes filled with piss.

Phil, if you're listening to this, why not give me a call?

Players would vie to complete fictional or historical military operations with the fewest casualties.

Please don't think there was just because I've created the image of my face being pulled toward an older woman's breasts.

Please, Lord, make it stop, I sniveled. I'll do anything you ask of me, within reason and subject to getting permission from my mum.

Plus an evidence bag, which he never uses for evidence but keeps folded in the right hand pocket of his donkey jacket in case he has a big meal.

Plus, Bilardi threw a tantrum when he heard I was growing it and sent me a very, very curt letter.

Plus, I've had my assistant sit behind them in the staff canteen and listening to their conversations.

Pointed out on air that an anagram of Alan Partridge is anal dirge Pratt.

Pointing out politely that the actual format hadn't been explained to her.

Possibly the most talented easy listening battons, man.

Pounding at his belly and tits, shouting. Come on then, come on.

Poverty stricken, drugged up to the nines on smack pipes.

Practicing my musical number again and again and again until my throat swelled up and I couldn't fit Christmas pudding down it.

Prepare to fail, as I once had engraved on the underside of a watch that I've subsequently never worn.

Prepare your psyche for a new listening experience.

Pretty man and an orifice and a gentle hand.

Privates face and mouth were stench and stain free.

Provides an advantage in cancelling naturally occurring noise.

Providing classic hits, news, weather and chat from 4:30 to 7:00 AM was by no means a bad gig.

Providing my show doesn't clash with today, start the week or The Archers.

Pulls the top of the microphone off and throws it at the reporter, but it doesn't hurt anyway because it's made of grey foam.

Purchased an auction from under the considerable nose of Michael Winner.

Putting a damp spoon back in the bowl is the tea drinking equivalent of shedding a needle.

Putting my shirt back on after a good wash before brushing my teeth and grabbing another coffee on the way out.

Questions tumbled around my head like trainers in a washing machine I've mentioned on two previous occasions.

Quick digression for the AV nerds out there. I absolutely insist on presenting with a Sennheiser 152G2 headset microphone.

Quite how or why this would work isn't yet scoped out.

Quite often, they'd end up on the grave of Dan's loving father and loyal husband, Faversham.

Radio 4's on the hour was a weekly news program with seriously big balls.

Radio North Norfolk. Say what, Alan?

Reading the travel news into an unresponsive studio Mic is one thing.

Realizing my error, I gasped a sexual swear word.

Really good, thanks Stephen, I said briefly, forgetting that his name was actually spelled with a V and not a pH.

Really. What is it? His furrowed brow seems to ask.

Referring to her appearance in 1,000,000 years BC, I called her a historically inaccurate, sexy bikini sex woman.

Referring to make clear my disdain on air by quelling my laughter, talking over him, or making him explain his jokes in great detail.

Reluctantly discredit his testimony on the grounds that he's a former alcoholic and current weed junkie.

Removing any traces of magnetite sludge from my system.

Rendering him dead to me then and always.

Repeat this is digital radio.

Replies an orderly almost certainly not educated enough to follow politics.

Return her library books in time, saving her money that she could use to feed her children.

Rich shares had convinced me to do something more worthwhile than providing a soothing backdrop of music and companionship for those in need.

Richard, it was his name he doesn't have, doesn't have a gay bone in his body.

Right there and then I wrote him a check for £300.

Right. Point blank. Do you like me?

Rock, Andrew and Fergie Oxo, Edward and his wife rock Anne and Mark Phillips, Oxo.

Roughly similar to the one before the one before this, but better because my feet was higher.

Rumor had it that has tentacles even stretched up to the Fens and Cambridge.

Rupert Summers, who had experience of live TV from Manning the telephones on ITV Telethon 88.

Sadly though, my one man station based sales frenzy.

Sadly, circumstances meant that I've not been able to get back to the hospital in the intervening 31 years.

Sadly, many in the troop felt the scouting hierarchy only applied during our weekly meetings.

Sadly, these basic parts agean values are commodities like sterling or leaded petrol.

Safe for 16 years of attritional bickering and one pretty choice piece of philandering? Hers. See chapter 15. The bitch would ever be able to undo.

Said Carol's mum, Stella, not bothering to think of a greeting of her own.

Sailing under the ocean in a submarine disguised as an iceberg.

Sandra and I remain very, very good friends and I regret my line of questioning deeply.

Save for a couple of anecdotes that I took from Russell Harty and rebadged as my own.

Save for my socks, which I always remove.

Saw him temporarily reinstated pending a tribunal.

Saw me shrink into a dark cranny of fed upness.

Says a woman Detective Constable. Watch her kill him, for I'm in a dark, dank room deep in the nick.

Says Alan, scarcely able to believe that an established pop star.

Science can really bog things down with blah blah about research, tests, statistics, facts, and psychology.

Scott has continued acting, but now stars exclusively in gay pornography.

Scouts are not invited to defend Britain in an international conflict.

Scrubbing themselves down with body wash a bit too aggressively.

Scruffy crooner David Essex also lived in one.

Seeing Itvs Jim Rosenthal jostling for position, I sidled up behind him.

Seeing that it depicts the face of the local con man.

Self transformation. The actions I've given you.

Seriously, let me know because I can easily turn down the Myslet book.

Set the table themselves, then wait for the waiter to bring the meal over.

Sex local commercial radio.

Shadowy powers clearly forced his hand, and he was snivelling. They torn between losing a major piece of talent and upsetting his idiotic paymasters.

Sharp cornered objects were jostling for space in my mouth.

She breezed into the kitchen as I sat at the kitchen table with a bottle of wine.

She broke the news with some relish. A bit too much, if you ask me.

She dared me to pick up a bin and smash it into the window of a nearby shop.

She had a wonderful anti-aging effect on me, like oil of Olay has on middle-aged women's cracked, craggy skin.

She had enjoyed Glenn's company tremendously and would probably have classed him as a friend.

She holds the newborn aloft like a captain lifting a fleshy World Cup, and then the child throws back his head.

She kept banging on the door and telling me to come out and face her.

She may have been one of the most profoundly prejudiced people this side of Eugene Terreblanche.

She picked up the wine glass and handed it to me so I could have another go.

She pretend to be confused and I think you get the idea gents.

She said he was still just very angry with Mr Hitler.

She sat back in her chair, smoking her cigarette, using her mouth.

She seemed unsure that a lowly lab assistant could cope in the pressure cooker atmosphere of digital local radio.

She stayed for absolutely ages. I found this irritating because I'd promised to send a showreel to bid up TV.

She still sends me Christmas cards with glitter glued onto a picture of our Lord with a sort of ready brick glow around him and inside, the inscription says.

She swung me around and found some of my breath into her nostrils.

She told me she'd sat next to the coaches chemical toilet and I was concerned that my shoes might smell of human waste.

She tried to console me by gifting me the latest shoe cleaning merchandise.

She turned to go, the swirl of glossy hair revealing her neck bejeweled with moles.

She was a mum down. I pointed to a box tuck into those tissues.

She was angry that I had cancelled a longstanding direct debit.

She was fashionably turned out and had brown hair that was so glossy it generally wouldn't have looked out of place at a dog show.

She was flanked by Kev Butterworth, a once friendly BBC lawyer.

She was happy with the travel clock but was still upset at being widowed.

She was introduced to me by Pete Gabbitas, MD of Blue Barn media. Sadly no longer with us.

She was understandably miffed by this, but as I explained patiently in rudimentary English.

She was visiting her mom anyway, and the bus connection between the two graveyards were really good considering how far apart they were.

She would absolutely insist on watching, knowing me, knowing you, if she was at home when it was on.

She'd always reminded me of Jeff Archer's wife, Lady Archer.

She'd been in store to promote a doomed solo single.

She'd been siphoning off government grants into her husband's construction firm and paying twin 17 year old rent boys to engage in sexual acts.

She'd rather pretend to be an East German Gypsy, so I'd be the starzy.

She'd worked in a very junior capacity at Radio Broadland in Great Yarmouth during my six months there and whilst I wasn't exactly blown away by her ability or attitude.

She's holding up a plastic bag with some sandwiches in.

She's not going to wet herself, although that's often a distressing side effect of childbirth.

Sheila and Kenneth had moved back into the family home quite recently because Fran had had a stroke and now needed round the clock care.

Shielding the world from my freshly washed penis and balls.

Shirt, I scream in terror as my beloved Norfolk disappears beneath me.

Shopkeepers, even people who rent out pedalos on a shallow, man-made lake.

Short of doing me in with a blade, it wasn't that sort of school.

Should you just offer to show him the way to the family silver? Your collection of semi antique tie pins?

Shoved into the tummy of a cannon I2000.

Show jumper Sue Lewis had been a guest and come on the show with her horse and I must say it made for pretty pleasing television.

Similarly, a Zimmer frame could easily be 4 Tommy guns in disguise, with fake rubber feet on the bottom which the bullet could easily pass through once the Zimmer was aimed horizontally.

Similarly, the mood of the music necessarily shifted from I love you to let's get things done.

Similarly, we learned that a daily feature in which we asked Aviation fans to call in with sightings of RAF training exercises was causing distress to the families of servicemen and consternation a...

Single man can be just as vulnerable to a crazed homosexual past.

Six years for which my money's were among the happiest times of my life.

Smartly dressed and with his hair parted to one side, he worked the crowd beautifully.

Smelly Alan far Tridge, smelly Alan Farts Ridge.

Smelly Alan. Far tridge. Smelly Allen, far trudge. The word spewed from my classmates mouths like invisible projectile sick, landing in my ears and ending up cakes all over my shattered self esteem.

Smoking doobies, buying books second hand and getting out of bed after midday is all well and good. It isn't.

Snacks and chalks were housed in a new Tupperware box in the top drawer, a radical departure which freed up a good quartile of the desk's surface.

So avoid the Radnor range. That's my advice.

So eventually I decided to take my notes and dictaphone to the Public Library.

So I could look out of the window of the big name High Street Bookstore in which I stood.

So I found out where he played squash and would make sure I happened to be having a shower and talk there at the same time as he slash him.

So I made sure I sidled up to each member of the team in the kitchenette.

So I plucked up the courage to confront him for an almighty showdown.

So I sent her a travel clock wrapped in black tissue paper.

So I stepped into an Esso garage and ate a Toblerone.

So I walked through the countryside, and I bathed in the majesty of nature.

So I was pleased that even Nick could find someone.

So I'd asked to see her papers before mounting her from behind over the twin hubs that were concealed beneath her work surface.

So I'd have to generate enough energy and momentum in the final hours of Norfolk Knights to carry the listener to the bitter end.

So I've gone to the toilet to piddle out some stress.

So if you're a rebel GMT worshipper, we want to hear from you.

So in between bouts, Nick and I found a quiet corner of the warehouse.

So in early 1977, I cycled the 26 miles to Carol's parents house to meet with her father.

So instead I just end up scratching the bit below my Adam's apple.

So it wasn't until the following day that I realised the news was bad.

So long, Alan. The bigwigs might not appreciate you.

So much so that he's often given me a lift home when he's been drunk and I've been sober.

So now I'm going to carry on from the point where I stopped and started talking about tofu.

So she listed some of the times when I'd either done something well in my professional life.

So that I might come to understand how they even consider dumping a bin bag full of used nappies in the ginnel next to someone's house.

So that people gain a better understanding of me in my life.

So that she could present me at the end of each week with an audio dossier.

So that's pretty much all I know. I'm sure there's more on the subject, but I'd have to look it up.

So then I'd start sending my assistant as my graveside representative.

So there was no physical contact and the light remained as on.

So when, just a couple of days before launch, I bumped into the incumbent Breck Jock.

So, having ruled out alcohol as a contributing factor in the crash, you have to ask.

Soaking up all the knowledge that this seat of learning had to offer.

Sobbing and eating a pork pie until the pie was gone.

Sod the mockers, the naysayers, the bouncy castle saboteurs.

Some have suggested that my relationship with Glenn soured when I learned he was gay.

Some months later, Michael the kindly ex forces travelled to have an employee.

Some of his pictures have come from magazines and newspapers.

Some of it vigorous enough to chap lips mine and hers.

Some of the less I had mics out there, I'm thinking of your Radnor CL oh sevens muffles certain consonants so that an S sounds like an F.

Some of the next day's reviews focused far too much on the final few minutes.

Some of them dropping down into second to turn right into gate and Rd.

Some of which were marred by the rock stars of the time, adopting a screechy higher register.

Some people are very unkindly suggested. Peter has simply taken what his granddad did literally.

Some people assume it's always wrong to smash a cripple in the face, but is it?

Some people unkindly say the deaths of Inman, Harty and Grayson.

Some people were shouting the word hero or thank you.

Some say they were close to a million UK scouts in the early 60s.

Somehow a step down from presenting 1/2 hour TV talk show once a week.

Somehow I had managed to smooth their ruffled emerald feathers, at which point they asked if they could come back to my house to talk further.

Somehow managing to reconcile the twin passions of home baking and homo bashing.

Somehow, recovering from the force of the blow, Maxwell picks up a chair and swings it at my brain. I duck.

Someone informed the relatives time of death 2011. Cause of death. Well, why don't you play Quincy?

Someone very senior at BHQ.

Something happened that threatened to turn my world upside down, like one of those paperweights with fake snow inside.

Something has grabbed my brain like the jaws of a distempered police dog.

Something he noted with a wry smile that he could ask for, safe in the knowledge that everyone involved would remain bone dry.

Something I found especially callous when he revealed he was suffering from a serious illness.

Something I found hard to understand and still do, given the role of a Commissioner, is basically to put a tick or a cross on a box.

Sometimes I could actually do it too, but more often than not, particularly when Dad used his textbook backhand slice.

Sometimes I'd sit in my study and just pound away on the word processor.

Sometimes running around the building with a makeshift Cape around my collar.

Sonia delighted in the spontaneity of our sexual salad days.

Sonia was responsible for awakening my dormant libido and making it do press ups.

Soon after, Alan, fellow DJ John Boyd, a couple of producers, and Pepsi or Shirley from Pepsi and Shirley are sat in the bar of a Marriott Hotel.

Soon enough launched, I arrived and right from the off things just clicked.

Soon enough, though, the guests arrived. I smiled to myself as I noticed that none had succumbed to any form of disability.

Sparing my inner cheeks and stabbing the roof of my mouth.

Spitting that dinosaurs had long since been extinct before the arrival of admittedly sexy hunter gatherer caveman's girlfriends that she played.

St. John's Ambulance are nearby. Not doing anything, of course, but I'm I'm not sure they're trained to administer medical care, they're.

Stand back, says the midwife. Her contractions are massive.

Staplers. Hole punchers, sticky backed plastic post it, notes gone in a hard headed cull of underused items.

Statistics say that 80% of women under the age of 30 are either indifferent to or actively dislike my current show, midmorning matters.

Steve may not have been too hot on well known phrases and sayings, but he was blessed with the kind of genuinely great wisdom.

Still available from www.massanet.com/partridge face at £9.99 for 10 excluding postage.

Still follows the US game and is a fountain of knowledge on Collins and quiz ideas. Invaluable.

Still French kissing 8 year olds, I said, pointing an accusing finger at his potentially paedophilic mouth.

Still not the smithereen effect I wanted, but better than before.

Still world class interactive learning.

Still, he's a good interviewer and a solid guy.

Still, I was happy to do it every night of the week for Dave because he was and is in a very bad place.

Straight away she looked hurt and I could tell she was troubled by something.

Striding confidently through the dreaming Spires and hallowed halls of East Anglia Polytechnic.

Struggling with different but identically debilitating injuries, me sprained him cut fat drunk.

Stuart Blander was launching his mind muscle technique, David Ells was generating plenty of attention with his ladder of legends and of course, Solomon Baptists rise like a Phoenix programme was th...

Subsequently described by One North Norfolk Blogger.

Such as selling and leasing back the Radio Norwich studios.

Such as the digital audio broadcasting DAB system.

Such was the ferocity of the blow that had left a noticeable dent in the granite.

Suddenly all the years of neglect, which could easily have made a book in its own right and definitely a film, were lifted.

Suddenly I came out of autopilot. What the hell was I doing?

Suddenly I was hurled into the middle of a breaking news story. This was live radio, and all ears were literally on me.

Suddenly my mind, normally so richly populated with premium quality chat, had gone completely blank.

Suddenly there's nothing to cushion my fall but cold, hard car park.

Sue Cook called and offered to take me to the zoo one day.

Suffice to say that all 208 episodes of military based quiz skirmish are available on DVD.

Suffice to say, I was the proud owner of two shiny A levels and nobody could take them away from me.

Summer anchors. Others commentators, summer analysts. Some are reporters.

Supplying rye observations and wacky character LED monologues.

Sure enough, McComb and Janice have a litter of four children.

Sure, I tried to build bridges from time to time. I'd take him to the BC bar and order us each a pint of bitter and a meat based sandwich.

Sure, I wanted to shovel in the face, but I had the self-discipline not to.

Sure. I've had my share of ups and downs. That's Partridge.

Surely there's room in life for a third caffeinated beverage option.

Surely they should be able to repel an intruder with a shotgun?

Suspending their subscription to BBC Good Food magazine.

Swallow always carries a checklist of items. A comb.

Swallow has saved up to buy a brand new five door Audi A3 Turbo diesel.

Swallow solves dingbats and other word related puzzles, including word searches.

Sweaty, angry, and pretty pissed off. I was not in the best of moods.

Taught up gung ho points or a crew weaponry.

Tears streamed down my face. I was so happy I wanted to shout it from the rooftop.

Tears streaming down her Ruddy cheeks as I tried to barge past her.

Telegraphing the fact that they weren't even based in the building.

Text to all that, I'm sure we can sort something out.

Thankfully for me, Clifton has been unable to stem the bleeding from his knee.

Thanks to a hardcore diet and the love of a good horse.

That actually very Randy animals. And that's OK, we've all got needs. But for Christ's sake, keep off the flower beds.

That always be a tussle over the motoring section which I would invariably win.

That comes with wearing a dressing gown nude beneath.

That even installed the new pumps had heard so much about with 20% more nozzle pressure, the petrol just flew into the tank.

That forced me to drop her down to a part time wage for a while.

That he sounded like a malfunctioning robot at the end of a space fight movie.

That honour belongs to JCC wholesale butchers on the industrial estate.

That I even head back into the toilets. First the Mens, then the women's, then the disabled to mop up any stragglers.

That I found out that on the hour was to be a weekly show, which meant that we were only required in London on Friday.

That I I, me. She'd taken the bus to casualty.

That I return you to the powerful immediacy of my present tense writing.

That I was losing my hunger, my sharpness, my rajwada broadcast.

That I wouldn't outstay my welcome at the Lamberts and so after 14 weeks I saddled up and hit the road.

That I'd spent somewhere in the region of £54,000 on Toblerone.

That instantly opened the door from everything from cuppa soups to pot noodles.

That is every chance it could lead to paralysis on a truly Perry Mason Esque scale.

That it could easily have been repurposed to become a fun family based show in the best tradition of the UK pantomime.

That it had been a powerful and moving broadcasting Tour de force.

That it was time to go beyond salt and pepper and begin to search for a third primary condiment.

That kind of blanket obsession with one topic at the expense of all others doesn't sit easily with me.

That lack of passion was typified by a pair of the hotel's younger employees.

That means it was the dunder headed wrongness of what they were saying. I did not smell.

That might sound crass, but in many ways it's a tribute to mum.

That morning I'd breakfasted with two senior execs from Irish TV channel Arte.

That night, he'd had 6 pints of lager and half a bottle of wine.

That night, I thanked my lucky stars that the Wisbeck nuclear scenario had not come to pass.

That our cultural ignorance was about to be our undoing.

That pay sodomitical homage to Gears back catalog.

That punching a wheelchair bound former golfer in the face with a Turkey encased fist was wrong, just as twatting a BBC executive twice is inadvisable.

That referring to the open arms of Christianity was inadvisable.

That said, the more I talked to him about it, whether at the Travel Tavern in his largely unfurnished terraced home.

That the liking of other people towards myself.

That the possessions of mine that I surrendered during the divorce were returned to me, and that sexual intercourse with other members knocked on the head.

That unsolicited life coaching was inadvisable.

That was actually one of the titles I was thinking about for this book.

That was fine, though not a problem at all. Ultimately, you can't precisely gauge amounts of sadness.

That was what I did to my listeners in the final hour of my show before pelting them into the atmosphere free void of Dave Slot.

That way people can't say what's tiers and what's just hot water.

That we both take a hot bath together with three caps of Dettol.

That will be taking it way way way way way way way too far.

That year I had a glass of beer at 10:00 AM.

That you should be able to at least get them in the kneecaps. That's common sense.

That, as a believer, my assistant derived more meaning from graveside grieving than I did.

That, to swallow, is just so much bullshit.

That's a good handshake you've got there, Alan. Thanks, I replied.

That's more than most unhappily married men spend on prostitutes in their whole lives.

That's not the biggest, the strongest, the coolest.

That's still equated to an audience share in the delivery room, at least.

That's such an established technique in Shakespeare's Canon, people just think no one will notice.

That's what a real paramedic what the Salvation Army is to a special forces soldier.

That's what happened to me in 2001.

That's why I insist on buying foreign these days and hang the cost.

That's why students and their incessant status quo bashing are so wrong.

The 1st and worst death of the lot was mums.

The aim is to increase the number of radio programs in a given spectrum.

The all too common viral infection of the upper respiratory tract was an excellent way to cause profound blockages of the soft palate, which in extreme cases can make you sound like Melvyn Bragg be...

The angle poise was placed. Nice touch this on an adjoining cabinet.

The Apache group of companies had its fair share of work. Some people think it didn't, but they're wrong because it did.

The BBC is like an uncaring sow lying there, fat and impassive as a host of piglets jostle to suck calcium rich milk from her many jaded teats.

The beauty of her headstone is that it's located on the main thoroughfare through the graveyard, so if I'm pushed for time, I can open my passenger side window and throw the flowers out without sto...

The biggest publicly funded broadcasting corporation in the United Kingdom.

The blade is a springboard firing a cube of cheese up into the air.

The calling cards of 100 local whores raining down on me like big drops of prostitute rain.

The cathartic cleansing effect of rapid blood loss has made me feel elated.

The channel's ethos guns, girls, guys, girl.

The closest I've ever got to the extermination of the ******* race was teasing John Malik about his big nose, but a I didn't even know he was ******* and B it was pretty large.

The company no longer exists, but its owners, James Judd and Tony Dee.

The computer monitor previously slapped bang in the middle was purchased in the right hand corner, angled jauntily in my face's favour.

The consequent teasing and name calling he received at the hands of his compatriots.

The controller there bet Snook was a chain smoking woman who sounded like a chain smoking man whose chain smoking had called for an emergency laryngectomy.

The country was awash and a slosh with sporting giants.

The days of infantile namecalling and sexually explicit graffiti are over. It stops, right?

The death of music on or before the release of Arthur 2 on the rocks.

The decision to reside at home was a canny marshaling of my resources.

The diners broke into a rich applause as if they were saying.

The discarded back seats will be repurposed as cut price sofas for low income families.

The divergence between our two lives mine successful, his pathetic.

The dossier may or may not have been passed on to Birmingham City Council and I may or may not be waiting for a reply, although this is the public sector, so I shan't be holding my breath.

The doubters could shut their faces because I'd done it.

The early stages of pregnancy were equally tough for both of us.

The entire conversation has been nothing more than a smokescreen with me distracting. He's hobbled onto the #23 bus and is getting away.

The exact body shape that Carol had been so fruitlessly striving for since she was 20.

The facial hair didn't last long, of course, as well as causing an edge that called for perpetual and frenzied scratching. It wasn't to everyone's taste.

The finishing touch was to be a boot sc****r outside the front door.

The foldable flap hugged to the back of the sheath, tightly bound together in a solemn, gummy embrace.

The following week I reported while it's a scout leader, Dave and was told not to tell Tales, which didn't really bother me much at all.

The former to cut with the latter to maintain carcass stability.

The fun days are all about glitz and glamour, and we broadcast live from a large field or car park.

The gentle throb of the Rover's British made two litre engine is as comforting as a nice big hug from Mummy.

The gown flops open and reveals her goolies. Big deal.

The happy filling in a Kate Bellingham Judith Hann sandwich.

The harmonic distribution of a sine wave carrier modulated by such a sinusoidal signal.

The heat from my head mounted cave as torch had made it impractical to continue without removing my gym jams.

The hospital, the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Kings Lynn.

The human brain comprises 70% water.

The idea is to imagine yourself as someone with a characteristic you desire.

The it's bad news. Haha. No, actually, it's good news technique.

The Japanese martial art with body armour and big sticks of bamboo.

The joke he was telling when I walked in was an absolute groin wrecker.

The judges on ITV's X Factor use a similar technique.

The kind who'd never have cause to rely on school teachings unless it was for the tie break round of a pub quiz.

The knowledge that I could switch from the Bony chest of my wife to the fleshy, welcoming bosom of the British viewing public provided sweet, sweet, sweet soccer.

The last thing I've got time to do is exhume and subsequently dufu, the cadaver of a loved one.

The last thing we want is to end up like the USA, where buying a gun is as easy as buying a bagel.

The Linton Travel Tavern made it abundantly clear that I was welcomed back anytime but knowing that builders are often ex offenders.

The loneliness, the disappointment squeezed out of my eyes in the form of hot salt tears.

The manager tries to worm his way off the hook by disputing the figures.

The margin on a service station breakfast is 595.

The more I began to see chinks of logic in his argument.

The more time that elapsed between my acid put down and me driving off fast.

The natural home for a broadcast like me would surely have been BBC One 7:00 PM. The chat show landscape at the time was barren and desolate.

The new love in my life, Sonia, then 33.

The next day though, with all the side are now either drunk, spilled or thrown.

The next quantum leap Forward was to come in 2003.

The next thing I know, Maxwell has donned a plastic Alan Partridge face mask.

The night sky was straining to get into the room, but couldn't because of the glass.

The nightmare that had threatened to rip my world apart, like an experienced chef portioning up a ball of mozzarella.

The noise fizzed out of my back passage like a child calling for help.

The noise is relatively nonsensical, but no less intelligent than most babies would produce.

The now permanent chief commissioning editor for BBC TV, Tony Hayes, was going to come and chat.

The nutty sweetness further engorging my throbbing sense of happiness.

The only option I'm not prepared to risk is toilet paper.

The only person I'd ever heard cause such an uproar in that snug before was well.

The only sold I encountered was a lady Rambler who literally ran when I smiled at her.

The only time I faced a slight moral twinge was when asked to give a motivational presentation plus rock music to a well known cigarette brand.

The outfit who had rerecorded the theme to knowing me, knowing you for my Radio 4 show.

The packet of condoms in her glove box reported sightings of her in nightclubs with a man.

The parties that saw in the third Millennium Post Christ.

The people are the most irritable between 5:00 and 6:00 in the morning.

The perineum between the two metropoles at the east and rump of England.

The pilot episode follows Swallow as he's assigned a naive young sidekick.

The point is that me and Danton hit it off large time.

The poor woman's wailing like a banshee over there and is concerned. Officials gather round her to stem the flow of blood and presumably discuss what, if any, rule has been broken.

The problem for John and me was that service stations turned a blind eye for people with HGV licences.

The problem, of course, was that I had nowhere to take them.

The receptionist couldn't find any record of Mr Walters.

The relief was, as Americans say, freak and awesome.

The reporter broadcast the story that night. It was, everyone agreed, great radio.

The residual moisture acts as a caking agent, forming the granules into unsightly asymmetric clumps.

The rest of us had to undergo the daily headache of changing gear, looking in our mirrors and turning the steering wheel.

The rest were your usual mixture of John Lennon clones and failed CBC presenters.

The ribbing that he orchestrated. And to be fair, there were probably others involved, too.

The richest house presentation was in December 2005.

The Rover 200 can out accelerate most cars in its class.

The sacks of letters were sadly destroyed in a fire before I could peruse them.

The sad fact was my parents back. It's though not communist, but unconsciously adhering to the same one child only policy espoused by the People's Republic of China.

The same month that President Carter announced a grain embargo against the USSR.

The same site to which I make pilgrimage once a year.

The scene is actually unfurling in 1955.

The self destruction should by now be beyond doubt.

The Sennheiser is the official head mic for both product demonstrators at the Ideal Home exhibition and Gabrielle.

The series will be peppered with skyscapes of Norfolk.

The setup reminded me very much of the buccaneering can do spirit of Radio Caroline.

The shock of it would lead to a sudden burst of acceleration.

The shooting of Forbes McAllister was without question the pivotal moment in my life.

The show began and was an unmitigated success.

The show was being talked about not just in DIY stores or trumped up news agents.

The show was conceived by me as a kind of televised mulled wine and mince pies party that would take place in an exact studio mockup of my house.

The show was to be recorded in the August surroundings of Broadcasting House.

The so-called controversies were nobody's business but Sandra and Clives.

The speed at which he could tell you the colour any given metal would turn a Bunsen burner flame was nothing short of incredible.

The strutting young cock. Certain Allen would often dish out compliments.

The studio must be D grabbed. A house band is required.

The studios from where I used to broadcast my show were reduced to rubble.

The telephone was switched to the far left on the ground that I tended to wedge the receiver under my left jowl and used my right hand to scribble notes or gesticulate.

The tension on celebrity skirmish was such that Yvette Fielding soiled herself.

The thought of breaking my opponents arm or ensuring that his shoulders remained in contact with the mat for a count of three, only to discover 20 years later that he had become, say, head of Norfo...

The time for shaking hands with people in toilets, no matter what their gender or handicap.

The torment lasts for hours before I'm thrown into a cold cell.

The trajectory of our working relationship from strangers in pub to partners in crime in six days.

The travel bulletin I'd given to the bespectacled driver had helped her too, I imagine.

The truism that there are lots of sports, each of them different from each other.

The two of them are the Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Doo of ITV Sport.

The under poor, the Batlings, the shitstorm and flotsam. What could I, Alan Partridge, do for them?

The upshot? The BBC was duty bound to honor my contract and broadcast knowing me, knowing Yule.

The wallop of honey and almond nougat was the first to strike.

The Wednesday and Friday shows were to be repeats of the Monday one.

The woman Detective Constable screams in frustration and slaps me across the face.

The words have been intoned by my metaphorical.

The world, the medium of TV and more specifically my mental well-being were all improved by the death of Tony Hayes, 41.

Their own. The soldiers I want to talk about are the ones I dip in my boiled egg, which coincidentally has also been decapitated, his next bite seemed to add.

Their suggestion is that I think back to how I felt at the time of her death and use words that relate or convey those emotions.

Then acting commissioning director for BBC TV and a man who frankly made Adam Walters look like a pathetic radio idiot.

Then bequeath it to the homeless. We'll be on the front page of every paper in the land of Norwich.

Then Denton piped up with a joke about her having fishy fingers.

Then I added the day-to-day, and on the hour, fruitlessly, I listed several other pieces of my work.

Then I bade the building. Good day and left.

Then I looked over to where a policeman was putting the pistols carefully into a transparent freezer bag.

Then I she checked the underside of all tables and chairs.

Then just carried on soaring, soaring like an eagle that didn't care if it went so high that it blacked out.

Then on the A 66 via Scotch corner and onto the M6, which after the Scottish border became the A 74.

Then she had to go because the 3:50 were starting and she had a bet on.

Then things go horribly, catastrophically wrong.

Then well it round her head so it made a futuristic noise.

Then you want to pull the nasality up by about 1/4.

Then, for extra emphasis, I said it again, but slightly more slowly.

Then, like an animal rearing up on its hind legs, or like a human standing up, he stands up.

There are still plenty of familiar faces at radio knowledge and I was confident I'd be welcomed back by the guys there.

There I was in my mind, top off, sweat dripping from my rippling torso.

There was a raised inflection at the end of her greeting, but these days you don't know if that's because it's a question or because the speaker mistakenly thinks they're cool.

There was a shake up in the lineup, too. Pop aficionado and Jonathan King alike. Ben E Parry was quietly moved on.

There was also he with a trademark tuft of jet black nasal hair hanging down from each nostril.

There was great dignity in seeing 14,000 copies of my book being ferried along a conveyor belt to their certain death.

There was no less than I deserved, which meant it was one positive that cancelled out the negative of Hayes snubbing me.

There was no mention of the bitter war of words that had waged so fiercely just hours before.

There was no question that travelling employees could park up on a service station and get a genuinely great night's sleep in the comfort of their own cars.

There was no traffic in either direction, so I was ready to slam her into first and really let rip.

There was nothing these educationally slow children could have done to hurt me more.

There was only after arriving in Dundee and pulling up in the middle of a municipal football pitch to unwrap another Toblerone that I came around.

There, my brief extended beyond sports to a bimonthly magazine show called Scout about.

There's a certain sense of invincibility that comes with knowing that 30 years ago you were awarded a green belt in judo.

There's no reflection on the dead guy. It's just that sometimes the sweet sucker of sex can help speed up the grieving process.

There's nothing more unsexy than talking about venereal disease.

There's now a heated outhouse for children with a light and running water.

There's something very reassuring about the concept of hot beverages.

There's very little actual difference between him and a bouncy castle.

These boast all the smoky Zing of McCain's southern coating with the tenderest cuts of white meat.

These hard hardships, testing trials and tricky tribulations are the things that have made me who I am.

These people might be able to tell you which French films Jean Luc Picard was in.

They all stay grayness of those Glaswegian skyscapes contrasting perfectly with the sunshine of Magnum Pi.

They basically razed it around the sun a few times to get it speed up.

They could never be 1000% sure that they weren't just listening to someone doing a very good impression of my voice.

They even showed some marketing material they'd knocked U.

They flee before you can say Jerry Adams.

They just prance around Hampstead Heath picking flowers.

They met me in the meeting room of a Regis office facility.

They often try to kick you when you're down in their perception.

They pretended to make notes, as Boyle outlined exactly why she didn't want another chat show from me.

They say your nose is one of the few things that keeps growing throughout your life.

They spelled the difference between me attending tertiary education.

They want me back on the radio.

They were awaiting a refill on both knives and the forks.

They were confused by momentarily by the clever double negative, so I added. I passed.

They were scientific in their understanding of good radio.

They were using words, ideas and concepts that you simply never heard in Norfolk.

They wouldn't be able to reattach a stopcock if it came loose.

They'd be guests milling around, food being cooked and an air of festive cheer.

They'd been told to stick around on the sofa until the credits rolled.

They'd sooner and an extra £1000 a year, than worry about whether you're going to be the next presenter of Sports Night.

They'd superimpose that over an actual screenshot at the moment, I shot Forbes McAllister and included a speech bubble of him saying.

They're all sports broadcasters, I said, some more successful than others.

They're dead now, and my mum's sister Valerie, who disputes my version of events pretty vociferously.

They're different types of sports broadcaster.

They're kindness, ringing in my ears like chronic tinnitus.

They're not. You only get that back on lunches outside a 50 mile radius from your place of residence, you effing bitch, he seemed to add with his eyes. I imagined.

They're yellow cards, he says. And that's actually a pretty good behaviour record.

They've been clapping for their military amputee, every man Jack of them.

Thicknet zip up cardigans, flared brown corduroys and shiny black pepper pot brogues set me apart from the long haired layabouts.

Things got off to a flying start before I'd even turned my engine off.

Think about it. Within that one bedroom, you had a dining room.

Think aspray motors. Stunning vehicles, stunning prices.

Think seriously about the strategy and ergonomics of my desk and devise a new layout that was fresher, simpler.

Thinking it lent it a a timber that was trustworthy, authoritative.

This acted as a lubricant, destroying any traction, slash, friction his foot might have had with the floor.

This bit could be cut into a montage and set to music, like the training sequence in rocky or karate kid.

This frenzied attack on me and my rights took several sickening forms.

This is a seminal moment in my life. I need this to be right.

This is Alan Partridge with midmorning matters and on the day that 67 year old Norwich resident Mary Lees has woken from a three-year coma.

This is definitely the most humane way of doing it.

This is handy not only as I need a new pair of waterproof trousers, but also because I always aim to get them at a discounted rate rather than pay full price.

This is one of the weirdest rooms I've ever been in, and that includes bilardi's blast proof underground bird chamber.

This is so BBC, I thought.

This is the site of the cops where I stood all those years ago.

This isn't just a spot to lay your head for a couple of nights this my friends.

This provides a basis for a mathematical understanding of frequency modulations in the frequency domain.

This resulted in a number of missteps in the live broadcasts.

This seems somehow appropriate because while the others had stayed where they were, he had literally roved over.

This single mishap provided the springboard to a career at what was in my view.

This was a Partridge family fixture. Absolutely, utterly unmissable.

This was an inspired piece of show marketing that was incredibly crass slash inventive.

This was good, and I liked it. In short, I was glad to be back working in the radio station I'd been at five years earlier.

This was in front of the whole class, many of whom were in my troop.

This was no half measure gordale passionately through its weight behind the move.

This was one of the most creative, vacummed periods of my entire life. I was absolutely fizzing.

This was reflected in a more housewife friendly tone of chat.

This was the first time I had experienced the warmth of a caring family.

This was the sort of thing Sue did for a laugh all the time, but on this occasion.

This was the year, don't forget, when I'd set myself the goal of being able to do A1 armed press up.

This went on until I developed enough tolerance to prevent the bleeding at the age of about 16.

Those first couple of years flew by like a car doing 50 in a 30 zone.

Those in attendance included Christopher Morris anchor, Rosie May, Environment, Kevin Smear, roving reporter.

Though his replaced the olive oil with fry light cooking spray.

Though it should only be used as a measure of last resort, and you will need to mop up afterwards.

Though the structure might lose rigidity if it rains.

Though with Sue Cook in the room, you couldn't blame a chap for keeping his fingers crossed.

Thoughts were tumbling around my head like trainers in the washing machine I refer to on both Page 3 and page 64. Des was right.

Thousands of ears strained to hear. I lean towards the mic, and finally, finally.

Through the door I could hear my assistant trying to placate slash FIB to her.

Throughout that show, I said it a few more times and they opened all subsequent shows with the same shout. And you know what?

Throughout the pilot episode, we see Swallow constantly harassing a circus.

Throwing my empty wine glass crashing to the floor, but it landed on the carpet of the hall in one piece.

Tiffany Dale's voice was cracking every other word like an early day Michael McIntyre.

Time after time, I was forced to intervene and send my audience into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

Tits to all that, I'm sure we can sort something out.

Tits to all that, I'm sure we can sort something out.

To a few turns of the ride once or twice a week.

To all local hotels to check she's not staying there.

To be honest, I think they just took one look at how I like to keep my car clean and just saw dollar signs.

To be honest, you'd find this unfriendly attitude across the whole of BBC News and current affairs team.

To be someone who makes television as unmissable as Forbes mcalister's aorta.

To come up to folk and tell them what's right and what's not.

To eliminate fading problems in mobile environments.

To give the idea proper consideration on the strict proviso.

To go out and buy three hard backed copies of I Partridge.

To make it out alive if Al Qaeda are embarked on a repeat performance of their still yet to happen American atrocity.

To make the valid pages you're reading now if you're reading it in book form and not listening to the audio book.

To manage my personal affairs, and also because I deserved one, I took on a personal assistant.

To my listeners, to the profession that has been my love for the best years of my life.

To my mind, I had just done a show that sucked some pretty big bum hole.

To preserve her dignity, I'd rather not say what she died from, but suffice to say the family was forced to ask some rather uncomfortable questions about what she used to get up to in her spare time.

To quote exactly 25% of my vocal nasality.

To say that it was exactly equidistant between the two wouldn't quite be true.

To screaming hot spittle into the face of a researcher in about 3 seconds.

To some of you it might seem weird. I was so damn buzzed up by a petrol station.

To start the healing process, I had her buy and assemble, then disassemble and return a gas BBQ.

To that end, my pen, jar and notepad were migrated from the leftmost reaches of the space to a new position just by the right hand.

To the best of my knowledge, I'd never broadcast in digital before.

To the best of my knowledge, this remains the fourth longest period of unbroken residency.

To the children of a local primary school and caused uproar by repeatedly using the phrase.

To the delight of a proud but easygoing black farmer.

To the untrained eye, he looked very, very drunk.

To this day I still use short burst underwater crying for all sorts of problems.

To this day, it's advice I always pass on to mourners who I see failing to eat sufficient roughage in the immediate aftermath of the death of a loved one.

To this day, my inability to sing the full chorus irks me because I just realised that it could change the next bit for Leah Bertie to 4 Carol P.

To Tony Hayes is dead, her stutter not mine.

To you, Daniel. To you, Martin. To you, Sam. To you, Andrew.

Together, this odd couple have come together to find out who's been flytipping in the residential area.

Tony Hayes gave us a few notes after the first show and repeated the same ones after the 2nd, 3rd and 4th.

Tony, I said. Are you going to put this baby on the gogglebox or what?

Top Gear was shot, BC Two was shot.

Torso, skin, or Carphone cradles, all of which I value enormously.

Touching as it did on the rather delicate subjects of race, sexuality.

Trailed by an almost constant stream of without wishing to be crude.

Trumped myself awake again. It was the summer time, so there were lots of fresh vegetables in our diet.

Trust me when it comes to staving off radiation poisoning.

Trust me, Apache Communications made quite the name for itself and found a niche satisfying the easy to satisfy corporate market.

Trust Mr professional here to time the slaying so it gave the show a neat conclusion.

Try meeting someone in the BBC and taking the lift with them.

Try phoning the AA when you're not a pregnant, disabled single mother and see how much they value your call.

Tucking my head into my chest, I launch into a ferocious forward roll.

Turning water into wine at a wedding isn't just showing off. It's irresponsible.

Turns out Denton had been moonlighting for bedtime with Branning.

TV talent chases BBC presenting work as if it's the be all and end all.

Two fin stabilized mortars and a German MG3 machine gun with a full magazine.

Two hours later, the pursuit is still in full swing.

U with the Partridge again. The name Allana's show was vetoed by people who think they know my output better than I do.

Unable to slip my nail beneath its coagulated clasp.

Uncle Pete said that at one point I tried to introduce cool for cats by squeeze.

Under the command of the Americans and British, respectively.

Unless he was insistent on buying direct from a butcher.

Unlike Morgan, I can also flip back the other way.

Unlike the deeply unpleasant couples who appear on Grand Designs.

Until I began to hallucinate during the traffic report of my third show without sleep and jumped into the Bank of monitors to avoid a motorbike.

Until I tell you that Pete died in a car accident on the 1st of April 2005.

Until I was sadly left with literally no choice other than to dismiss him live on air in our fifth show.

Until, exhausted and bleary eyed, we emerged.

Up I go higher and higher, climbing like a bird that flies vertically, 2 feet 3 feet 4.

Upsettingly for audiences and Alan Partridge alike.

Used by the likes of Mr Motivator and, weirdly, Terry Nutkins.

Used to manufacture sound in the pre synthesizer days.

Used to propel the Galileo probe out into the solar system.

Viewers said they preferred it because they could now see us, whereas before they had to make up what we looked like in their heads.

Viewing it as evidence that I am an E Anglian egomaniac.

Waited six hours, brushed them again, and called a cab.

Walters had made it clear that Radio 4 wanted a second series.

Walters was being talked of as the next big thing in BBC commissioning.

Wanna be a star? I asked casually, pretending to inspect my fingernails.

Was a challenge as new and fresh as an egg salad.

Was a school trip to Heston Farm in 1964 and I maintained it was self defence.

Was a sometime source of periodic happiness for quite a while.

Was an opening gambit that could go one of two ways.

Was literally a slap in the face. Not literally.

Was mercifully unencumbered by the need to provide social commentary.

Was still the Irish televisual Tusm had left.

Was strong, impressive and had fully working plumbing.

Was that I was at least being beaten with a degree of excellence.

Was that it took science and plucked the good bits out and dismissed the rubbish.

Was that it was a true meritocracy. If you were diligent and resourceful and attended each week, you could orienteer your way to the very top.

Was that these tears felt like a monsoon on a parched African savanna.

Was that you were basically in charge of a vehicle slash being?

Was the dark heart at the core of my parents parenting, which meant that, as I think I've said.

Was to perform laps of the building's circular corridors whilst pretending to be on the phone.

Was with the aid of a silver line SE9 hydraulic Jack.

Watch a play by Shakespeare. I'll go to a modern art gallery and no one has the faintest idea what the hell is going on.

Watch what you say, and watch how you say it, you snivelling little ghosts.

Waylaid on an important business call prepping the next stage show.

We all admire it, we all respect it. But what exactly is it?

We all watched to see, quite literally overcame all the obstacles put in her way to romp home to a creditable second place.

We also bore in mind that he was only in the role to cover Georgia Harrison's maternity leave, so he didn't need to keep him on site for the long term.

We always had a great day adding F to our words to sound more Elizabethan and having a bloody good laugh about it.

We always hear about the downside to female circumcision.

We both had the same views on artificial insemination.

We can only speculate as to how badly his health would have deteriorated.

We can tell by the look on my face that something's wrong. It's probably the eyes that give it away.

We checked out a few more bars and even stopped in at a local karaoke place.

We enjoyed further publicity from the death, figuratively speaking, of comedian Bernie Rosen in Week 5.

We figured out that I displaced the same amount of water as half a Ford Fiesta.

We found out this morning, but you weren't around, he went on.

We garnered pleasing column interest for what was a poorly marketed Radio 4 show.

We had an 11th hour panic sourcing wheelchair ramps for a paraplegic, former golfer, Gordon Herron.

We had something or to use the corporate speaker of the e-mail assets.

We held each other crying for what seemed like ages.

We I had devised a name that had gravitas.

We knew she would have wanted minus the open casket.

We muddled through that a little frostily, but what followed was a regrettable period.

We owed it to him to treat his death with the tact and decorum it deserved.

We realized that the next door neighbours were having pre Christmas drinks and could hear everything.

We relied on 2 researchers, Lisa and Jason, to approach agents and on the whole they did a good job.

We sat in silence at the refrains of the song. The winner takes it all. Blasted from the office Alba.

We secure a table. Then, with coats d****d over the back of our chairs, we separate.

We seem to cover every topic under the Sun's favorite film. Best cheese, biggest regret, smallest regret, euthanasia.

We shared the common ground of both despising our respective lawyers and would often laugh about how much we were spending on their unnecessary legal advice.

We usually end up back at the table at roughly the same time and then enjoy our chicken dinners.

We want to hear from you if, like many farmers, you're simply not joining in with British summertime.

We were both taking back kettles hymn faulty filament. We didn't like colour.

We were kindred spirits, each slash both sharing a love of knowledge, quality music and hovercrafts.

We were like Siamese twins, separated at birth by a combination of surgery and adoption.

We were the principles and our very own knowledge based Hollywood romcom.

We'd been knocking back glass after glass of the stuff.

We'd been to visit the previous summer and had both fallen madly in love with the place.

We'd met in southern Norwich at a local cafe called Ritas.

We'd not even rehearsed it. I came out on stage for that first show, sweating visibly.

We'll also be looking at the law and asking are you legally allowed to draw a line down the back of a photograph and use it as a postcard?

We'll be asking what's the best night's sleep you've ever had?

We'll know that I actively relish the regiment of parameters and enforced norms of broadcast media.

We'll make a house out of 1000 copies of bouncing back.

We're going for a quick drink if you guys fancy it, said Pepsi or Shirley.

We're in the unnecessarily large studio of our price radio.

We're not doing a raft of nationwide TV adverts, Alan.

We've been prepared to take the format minus sukuk.

We've moved a good metre due east of the pedal zone.

We've never spoken about it, but I was doing him a massive favour.

Well, any viewer of UK conquest slash serious fans of dishwashers.

Well, as far as I know, the most common meaning is digital radio broadcasting technologies.

Well, Carol hadn't been on the pill, so I can only hazard a guess that the prophylactic had got punctured and the cut and thrust of what was some fairly robust lovemaking.

Well, for my part, I was having a Hell's own job getting a reasonable quote for a new fan belt.

Well, from that moment onwards, our relationship went from strength to strength to strength to strength to strength.

Well, I don't talk much about our rekindled friendship.

Well, I got loads of salary, I blurted. I was young and unsure how to phrase questions relating to remuneration.

Well, I would, he replies, his ridiculous Mid-Atlantic accent hanging on the breeze like a bad Trump.

Well, it's a duo syllabic exclamation that has spilled from my chops and given pleasure to millions across the globe.

Well, let's see what the director general has to say about this.

Well, that expanded for a further 48 hours before I was able to take it down using a hot pin.

Well, unlike someone else's mum, she certainly wasn't racist.

Well, yes, maybe Moses was a little bit jazz hands.

Well, you don't seem fine, I retorted, swirling my arms around my head to try to keep the bird at Bay.

Went on to become what winning Management magazine describes as nothing less than the advertised hour.

Went wrong due to the unbelievable shoddy workmanship of its makers.

Were allowed to perform the task for which they were painstakingly created.

Were it not for the fact that my calf muscles had recently been beefed up by a runt and to Matt, last power amble.

Were made by a clothes brush being swept across the back of a leather jacket.

Wham. I knew it was a winner as soon as it left my lips. If you'd stuck me in a room with a typewriter for 10 years, I would never have come up with one that good.

What are you doing over there? Said Rosie may environment.

What followed had been good samaritanism thrown back in my face.

What he's attempting won't just leave me a bit red faced.

What I got from Glen alongside rank amateurism and off kilter comic timing.

What I wouldn't give to wipe the smiles off their faces.

What I'm talking about is self transformation.

What if a burglar breaks into your home and your children are lying in bed at night?

What made it all the more galling was that it wasn't even me that had carried out the final solution.

What really speaks to me is it's portrayal of my head and vulnerability. Sure, there's the raw animal power of my physique.

What started out as me slapping my own face and saying you have to get through this?

What was that? Can all those hours be taken in one go?

What we were lacking were the truly big laughs found on, say, bedtime with Branning or the aforementioned Wally Banters junk box.

What with me then weighing in at 230 pounds.

What? Stop saying what? Listen to me. You're going to start showing me a bit of respect, buddy boy, or you will reap a whirlwind.

What? This was infuriating. I unwrapped my jumper from the mouthpiece. I forgot to say this was on the phone.

What's more, I knew a lot about my selected artist and would regale the partygoers with interesting facts about the artists we were listening to.

What's that got to do with it? How does the death of Chris affect a contract between you and the organization he worked for? And you'd be absolutely right to think that it'd be like arguing the Tre...

Whatever, Assama bin Laden had been in a wheelchair when crack U.S. forces entered his compound and, with no concern for their safety, bravely shot him in the head and neck.

When formally significant TV critic Victor Lewis Smith described my military based quiz show skirmish as a thick man's takeshi's castle.

When Gandhi advocated nonviolent resistance or when Moses parted the Red Sea, were they being arrogant?

When he found out Sue had let me down, he swiftly agreed to come along and take her place.

When he spots bags of drugs among the grassy balls of dung on the circus floor.

When his show hit a few snags and he was hung out to dry by the BBC, I began to realise that my dreams of being on the arm of a BBC mainstay were fading.

When I asked her to act more demurely at her radio Norwich Summer roadshow.

When I go into schools and give STD's to kids, I know that I'm really having an impact on the rest of their lives and that excites me.

When I played the tape back to cattle the next morning, she agreed in an uncharacteristically effusive show of support.

When I saw a man coming out of the disabled toilet.

When I was big enough to turn around and thump him in the tummy, or set fire to an Airfix Messerschmitt and put it behind his bedroom door so he'd be intoxicated by the burning plastic.

When I'm with a new lover, I merely casually suggest slash insist.

When Radio North Norfolk lost its FM licence in 2006.

When the best company names they can muster are a list of the owner's surnames.

When the birth came, though, I have to confess that I didn't find it especially traumatic.

When they were done, I'd put down my transparent bag of fruit and begin my questioning.

Where aren't my best years? And they'd say.

Whereas he is often stranded in thick alley for the remainder of the conversation.

Whereas I was flying my first sorties into sexual territory.

Whereas Michael thought we should all be allowed to own a lethal weapon.

Whether administering them with his right hand or his left, whether he was alone or had mum screaming at him to stop.

Whether it was a brain wave triggered by the exhilaration of one of my best ever slashes.

Whether it was T AIDS, coffee, cancer or hot chocolate tumours.

Whether they're disabling landmines, driving tanks or photographing inmates are all heroes.

Whether to keep this paragraph in at all in case the denial.

Whether you regard it as an ancient art form, a woodland hunting technique, or just a big version of darts, this is archery, I boomed.

Which at first I thought was a worryingly noncommittal handoff, but then I thought about it about his specific choice of words.

Which could have been rudeness, but was more likely to be because her mother's body was still warm, I reasoned.

Which eventually arrived in the form of a steady downward trajectory.

Which feels like bolting the stable door after the horses legged it in a hail of gunfire.

Which gave a quality of light that was genuinely different from that of the desks of Elaine Clarke News or Sophie Devault weather.

Which I could only quell by reminding myself that a second series was still highly likely to be ordered.

Which I thought was a shame because it really was a quality establishment.

Which I took over from amateur DJ and scout obsessive Peter Flint.

Which I won't bore you with now, but which I did understand.

Which just happened to be bound in hardback and sold in all good book shops, plus tescos.

Which should go some way to explaining what happened next.

Which when combined with studio lights and a hair trigger pistol.

Which would have rubbed salt in their wounds, given their mobility issues.

While a few of the faces were different, the people who owned them were the same.

While announcing myself as a triumph in the cutthroat world of broadcasting.

While chuckling at the many people who are still waiting for theirs having arrived way before us.

While he and his fellow passengers could just sit back and effectively be chauffeured into work.

While his colleagues spread gravel across one lane of the carriageway.

While my assistant texted in to say it was a symptom of terrible ungodliness.

While my fellow students lived in each other's pockets and played out their debauched lifestyles for all to see.

While my parents never had more kids, I don't know. Though as a youngster I'd often lie in bed wondering.

While staring deep into the eyes of a local granny as she nervously tries to calculate the implications for her journey home.

While the carcass was retrieved by a young bushwhacker or a loyal gun dog.

Whilst I'd flirted with them in the past, it didn't seem appropriate anymore.

Whilst it's an oversimplification, a baseband modulated signal may be approximated by a sinusoidal continuous wave signal with a frequency FM.

Whilst salvaging the reputation of the station and drenching the place in a kind of radio foam made-up of sodium alkyl sulfate and a crude fluorosurfactant as onlookers watched and looked at me.

Whilst slinging my bad one over the gear stick, it can be done.

Whilst Star guest Raquel Welch cancelled 3 hours before we went live.

White bean bags, 24 hour room service fat babies with wings pointing at other fat babies playing compact harps.

Who angrily questioned the validity of one of my anecdotes.

Who are you? I don't bloody know you anymore.

Who bore uncanny resemblance to the Guildford four and some of the Birmingham 6.

Who doesn't understand the finger sex? Mine, for goodness sake, I lost it.

Who excitedly asked to sit in and not just bulk out. The numbers deserved better than that.

Who had rushed into my office one day to tell me that the celebrated chanteurs Gina Langland had agreed to appear and show 3.

Who is the greatest bossa Nova maestro this country has ever produced?

Who is this? See you around. Is this Partridge? I hung up my point, made my parting shot. See you around.

Who might have been a strapping Irishman, but is also one of the few men I know who's beaten by his wife.

Who moonlit as a radio reporter on Saxon Radio in Bury St Edmunds.

Who said that the greatest professional sadness are gun maker in Jaws?

Who strike up afternoon affairs soon after their loved one has died.

Who travelled overnight while I lay across the generously proportioned back seat of the Vectra, finishing the last of the toblerones, are using the verdant shrubbery as an improvised toilet as and ...

Who, although timid and stuttering, knew his onions English wise.

Whoa, whoa whoa. What does it say?

Whoever was to blame, be it slovenly listeners or station management?

Whoops, I'd stumbled into this terrifying shrine to yours truly.

Whose idea of entertainment is generally limited to a Dilbert cartoon.

Whose moral faith, Citizens Advice on whether ramblers can traverse your land than TV contracts. And was pathetic, actually.

Why am I being hauled into the tractor beam of this tree?

Why did you do it, huh? Why the F did you do it, Partridge?

Why do you continue to tolerate this culture of hooliganism?

Why not invite Denton to become part of mid morning matters on North Norfolk digital?

Why spend all that dosh paying for travelling employees to stay in expensive motorway hotels?

Why this tree? What is it about the simple field Maple?

Why would a single woman be any more prone than a single man?

Why? If your car breaks down, you call the AA. If your mind breaks down, I say call the A.

Why? Well, she was and is a devout Baptist.

Wikipedia has made university education all but pointless.

Will take place midair as I catapult myself up and down on a bouncy castle.

Wine bottles clinking in the boot like the laughter of a glass throated child.

With a lateral shake of the head and a vertical raise of the eyebrow.

With a liberal use of Roger's thesaurus had worked to treat.

With a nightly routine consisting of press ups, squat thrusts, and shadow boxing, I don't think I've ever been so fit.

With a slight weighting towards Pepsi or surely from Pepsi and Shirley.

With an hour to kill before opening time, he's clearly decided to come and make mischief.

With Dad in no fit state to do anything, I agreed to say a few words at the service.

With guests no doubt annoyed interleaving by the noisy party going on next door.

With listening figures spiking in my first quarter by almost 2%.

With little fanfare, they added radio Norwich to their family of brands.

With Maxwell fighting for air, I see my chance and make haste for the exit.

With me and Jemima sitting bollock naked on her bed.

With millions of radio listeners hungrily eating the sound of my voice as it fed them sports centered info.

With my business activities based out of the static home, the property under construction and choristers Country Club.

With my commentary played out on BBC News bulletins up and down the land, I was thrust into the national limelight.

With my request falling on deaf ears, I got out of the car and approached him.

With negotiations for a second series of KMK Y going well, I have two other meetings the next morning that could shape my career.

With only an hour to go until the opening editorial meeting, nerves fluttered around my stomach.

With sandwiches lasting through to the Epiphany, AKA the 12th day of Christmas.

With slide out occasional seats allowing generous room for up to five mourners who would easily drown out the hushed whisper of the smooth straight 6 engine.

With someone whose video collection featured one video of The Goonies.

With Sonia, it was much more spontaneous, what I like to call Smash and grab sex.

With that shot, easily as powerful as an intravenous drug like heroin, smack or gear.

With the best rule in the world, the only way my knees would have been able to cope with the sheer poundage.

With the exception of a hoseasons holiday to Bournemouth in 1979 and consistently excellent intercourse.

With the honourable exception of the recent hit on Jill Dando.

With the knowledge that I was being given a small window into what it would have been like in medieval times to be hung, drawn and quartered.

Within minutes I would almost always have found their floor.

Within minutes I've spent it for what is surely about four miles.

Within minutes, she'd put on high heels and a new pair of Dungarees.

Within reason, I loved every minute of my time with Sonia.

Within seconds, I found myself sharing another of my ace theories.

Within the hour I was broadcasting to the whole of East Anglia, reading out Sports reports direct from Teletext.

Without having to anxiously read not the string every few minutes.

Without love, parental or matey to sustain me, I turned to myself, Alan Partridge, for comfort.

Woah, yeah, call off the search party. I'm here. It's one minute past eight and this is Alan Partridge, or should I say the late Alan Partridge.

Woosh. Legs together, arms by my side, I shoot up into the air.

Work literally rolled in that year, most of it enjoyable.

Work out what it is in sport you want to be.

Worse still, those clumps are stained are grubby brown by the tannin rich tea.

Worse, on the front row I see Craig Kilty AKA the monster.

Would you have built his fantastic wall had he been sat on the aforementioned decorative headwear?

Would you like lemon juice with them, Sir? I roar inside my head.

Wrapping up a well honed presentation to a sales team that would outnumber the fingers on both hands of a fully able man.

Writing this book had been a full radiator flush.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yes. Open it.

Years ago, I'd have been too prudish to discuss these sexual experiences in print.

Yep, in analog applications, the difference between the instantaneous.

Yep, it felt good to be in the home where I'd been at my happiest.

Yep, it's a tale of incomprehensible pain and hardship.

Yes, better than ever. So shut your mouth.

Yes, Blender raises the interesting point that the hero is deep within us.

Yes, father. I'm to collect the remains, piece them back together, and do my utmost to identify the genus.

Yes, he was way over the drink drive limit and ordinarily I'd agree that the alcohol could have been a factor.

Yes, I like Maxwell's work very much indeed.

Yes, I thought they did read you on the kidney beans, but no, I don't mean that.

Yes, I'd had to save my trunks from someone else's urine.

Yes, lynum, I said, for some reason selecting to use his surname rather than his first name.

Yes, on top of a luxury abode, a successful business empire, a burgeoning television and radio career, and membership of choristers.

Yes, swallows always very well turned out.

Yes, the tea had that layer of scum that comes from adding the water before the milk.

Yes, there'd be an outcry from disabled pressure groups, but would his killing have been wrong?

Yes, they could call in and talk to me on my radio show every morning.

Yes, you have a captive audience, but you also have a listenership that is almost exclusively poorly.

Yet as we lie there in a tangled heap of deejays.

Yet at the same time, I can't help but notice the backshells photos are actually very good.

Yet barely have I finished my first mid air. Hello Norfolk.

Yet even to me, his arrival like that of a baby whose parents weren't responsible enough to use protection.

Yet every night in bed there was a nagging doubt in my mind.

Yet from Christopher Morris, anchor to Rosie May. Environment to Ted Moore, replacing Kev smear as roving reporter to Peter O'hanrahan, economics editor to yours truly, sport.

Yet I needed a voice that could flit like a carefree moth.

Yet it seemed that the chattering classes around North Norfolk Digital had seen it differently.

Yet sidekick Simon's first show did not go well.

Yet when I asserted my independence and emerged from my mum's considerable shadow, I mean this metaphorically, although she was fat.

You asked me to find you a publisher for the book, and I've spent the last month sending it to various companies and now one has come back and said they're willing to publish it.

You avoid them depositing their previous mail on site.

You can't do that if you're swanning around at home, for crying out loud.

You can't very well just wipe your nose on the ice white cellular briefs and carry on as if nothing's happened.

You could also be attacked by and this is less likely.

You could see newborn in the background, facing away from camera, but slumped on a folding chair by then in tears.

You don't go pushing something as powerful as Tobler and on someone you've only just met.

You get Alan. Asking questions equals bloody good interview.

You know that phrase. If you love someone, set them free.

You may now remove your Kevlar body armour.

You may think it's cold of me to be glad of his occupational misfortune just because he had me collecting privets.

You might be crying. You're lucky in that respect, Alan.

You might find you've pushed someone too far one day and they will unleash hell in your face.

You see, it's not about self help or self improvement.

You see, my parents marriage wasn't as stable as their long list of wedding anniversaries might suggest.

You snub my advice, I'm going to deliver a quip, then drive past you fast. It's that simple.

You think that's bad? You should smell his dad.

You were helping the poor and creating a secondary revenue stream.

You would not find a candidate more in need of night school and a shave.

You wouldn't find Chris in an ivory tower unless the Ivory tower is the name of a pub.

You'll notice from this that I had a much Brasher broadcasting style in my early days.

You're a really busty woman, Jen, I once said.

You're Adam Walters, aren't you? I said yes, he replied.

You're better off taking Dereham Road and heading for Saint Benedict St.

You've got quite a long torso, but your legs aren't in the least bit thick.

1,000,000 miles away from our dark, cramped studios.

6 red cards in as many games, says the reporter.

8 A mighty big fish from a pond this size.

8 year old Jenny Lancashire was the Cocker hoop recipient and she was rightly grateful.

8th of December 95 struggling to find a spare moment to confront Carol. She's always at the Ruddy gym.

8th of November 1995 actually, what if this is a gotcha?

12.5 Hours of weekly output versus .5 hours.

26th of October 95 Carroll 40% less Randy than this time last year.

50 years ago things were kind of different, though.

84th in Channel 4's 100 best catchphrases.

1974 was a crazy hazy time for Alan Partridge.

£49 for a room and breakfast was now out of my budget.

£899 poorer but one very good book richer.