The Missing Postman (1997) Script

Morning.

This is a staff announcement:

It is cholesterol awareness week, and we've free medical check-ups, ...car park, this afternoon. Thank you.

Clive.

You saw that programme last night on molluscs, didn't you?

No. I missed it.

Am I the only person round here who watches documentaries?

I tape 'em, but I never watch 'em.

That's the trouble with videos.

Apparently the male limpet, has got a reproductive organ six feet long, relatively speaking.

You alright Clive?

I'm just trying to think when I last had a medical.

Did you know the whelks like rain?

No, I didn't, Les.

Eh, you're as fit as a butcher's dog.

There you are Clive. Hello, Peter.

Have you got a moment? Yes, Peter.

I want to show you something.

Morning.

The wonderful thing about the Post Office, Clive, is the way that it has maintained its progressive attitude. Morning.

Do you know that by the year 2000 every household will receive at least three pieces of unsolicited mail a day.

We invested and re-invested in technology, and look at the results O.C.R. Clive, Optical Character Recognition.

A sorting machine that actually reads the addresses.

I mean, can you believe that?

Doing the work of 8 people.

I've been dreaming about OCR for years.

We've been having one or two teething problems, of course.

She can't cope with letters to Peterborough for some reason.

Still, I am convinced that this machine will propel us into the next millennium.

Look at that, scratch on her already.

Oi!

Get your hands off.

Sorry, Desmond.

That's Desmond.

OCR's personal technician.

Progress staring him in the face, that is.

You see, Clive...

Tell you what, let's go have a nice cup of tea.

You see, Clive, I have always believed, that the way to deal with new technology, is open arms.

No point in fighting it.

You're right, Peter.

I mean, with an OCR installed, there's no reason why we can't win sorting office of the year by Christmas.

That'd be wonderful.

Ah, yes.

You know, Clive, do you know what I have heard they're working on now?

Virtual reality postmen.

The ultimate in technology without sacrificing good old fashioned values.

Ginger nut?

Oh, thank you, Peter.

Oh yes, things are definitely looking up for the post office alright.

Good.

That means good news for you, Clive.

Good.

You see,

you don't have a driving licence, do you?

Ah... no, Peter.

No.

Well, I'll be honest with you, Clive, push-bikes don't exactly fit in with the new technology.

Leyland Dafs do push-bikes don't.

No.

You see, Clive, the labour force is gonna have to be completely re-structured. there's no way around that.

There are gonna have to be some redundancies, I'm afraid.

Not you.

We're not going to make you redundant, no need to worry about that.

No, we're gonna give you early retirement.

Early retirement, Peter?

That is right.

Oh, you're gonna be overwhelmed, aren't you, Clive?

Well, couldn't happen to a nicer bloke.

That'll be another bloody letter to Peterborough.

Here's the culprit.

It's got a paper-clip in it, see?

This is a sophisticated piece of machinery, it can't be dealing with paper-clips.

Right, I came in... coat off... coat on there...


Grater... some cheese...

The new one-way system is a French design, based on a series of interconnecting, ever-decreasing ring-roads, each moving in an alternately opposite direction.

Alternately opposite?

Yes, an alternately opp...

...who's been sleeping for 2 weeks now.

Until 1 o'clock though, we're staying with transvestite.

Christine?

I've just had it together.

You wanna do what? I've got some news.

I'll be down in a minute.

...she had an affair...


Christine.

Can't stop, I've got to get to Do-it-All for some more stuff.


Oh... no.

Don't tell me, Lawrence, another stolen Escort?

Oh, I've just remembered it's Tuesday.

What's wrong with Tuesday?

Tuesday night is my Neighbourhood Watch night.

Oh... God.

Early retirement? It's the best thing that ever happened to me.

You'll have time to do all sorts of things.

Like what?

Well, you could come out metal-detecting with me, for a start.

I've got a Field-Master Searcher at home, and you could borrow it.

Nice little detector, pre-programmed discrimination.

It's just a bit of a shock, you know.

Been a postman 35 years.

Don't know if I can just stop.

'Course you can, get yourself a nice little part-time job, to keep yourself in pocket.

Then you'll be sitting pretty.

I could ask down Burger Boy, if you want.

But being a postman is what I'm good at.

Postman of the year, 2 years running, I was.

I know that, Clive.

1978 and '9

You've covered this bit last week, didn't you?

The mudflats are constantly moving.

No patch stays the same for more than 2 days running.

That's the joy of metal-detecting, as you will soon discover.

Here are, here are.

Look at that.

It's at least 5 years old.

You ask Harvey Ellis, he was worried about retiring.

You should see the decoy ducks he carves now.

What's Christine say?

Haven't told her.

Gotta tell her, Clive.

Of course I'm gonna tell her.

She was up on the roof.

You're a lucky man, you know?

I'm only 52.

I don't want to retire at 52.

I meant you're lucky having Christine.

Oh... yeah.

You'll be able to do all sorts of things with her, once you're retired.

So, it's a case of keeping your eyes open but also not over-reacting.

Sergeant Pitman is giving a talk about.....

Evening, evening, evening...

Evening. All right now?

Sergeant Pitman.

What do you think about the over 50s martial-arts course, down at the College Funds?

Well, I really don't think we need worry...

In my opinion, video surveillance would be more appropriate, with the holidays coming on.

Yes, yes, but, how about just telling a neighbour that you're going away?

Tell my neighbour you're going away, they'll have your TV set out of the front door before you get on the coach.

Well, I...

I think I've said all I can on this subject.

Thank you, Lawrence.

Sound advice, as usual.

Anyone have anything else to report before we move on to dogs fouling the footpath.

I've still not found my cat.

I read in the paper there are cat thieves operating in this region.

They steal 'em for the fur.

They send 'em abroad.

There are some new people have moved in across the road from us, and they do look rather foreign.

I haven't spoken to them yet, but I see that they have a satellite dish.

And... they haven't put out any rubbish since they arrived here.

I think you might check that out.

Well, I'd like to say a few words on the um... Neighbourhood Watch annual outing, if I may.

Is that the time?

Will you excuse me, um, I need to get to the launderette.

Stratford on Avon, I thought, this year.

I read somewhere that more people get robbed visiting Stratford on Avon than anywhere else in Britain.

I read that.

I know a nice restaurant on the A34, near Banbury, and then we can catch a matinee of Richard the Third.

Isn't Banbury the place they smash your car windows while you're stopped at traffic lights and steal your handbags?

Is the water hot enough for my bath now, Mrs. Miller?

I've brought my own towels.

Of course it is dear.

From when?

Friday.

Three days notice?

They pay me to the end of the month. But he said I don't have to work it.

Clive, can we afford this?

As long as you keep on working.

How do you feel?

Well, you can't stand in the way of technology, Christine.

You have to embrace it.

You've got to be sure about it, Clive.

Woman on the radio earlier blamed her eating disorder on being made redundant.

And then what will you do with yourself?

All sorts of things.

I could help you do up the house.

As long as you don't start carving decoy ducks, like Harvey Ellis.

It drives Sheila up the wall.

I'm late, and we've got a new sister on the ward.

You don't have to take it, you know. You can say no.

I know.

I don't know about this, Ralph.

You're retiring the day after tomorrow, you need a job to go to.

Now, let's start you off on boxes.

You'll be alright on boxes, you have to flatten them.

It's not difficult.

I started out on boxes.

Promoted me to cheeseburgers now.

I have to slip the cheese in the bun, it's a bit fiddly, but it's not difficult either.

Well, you don't earn much, of course, you have to work out front to earn decent money.

Morning, Kirsty.

And they don't allow anyone over 25 to work out front.

There's a different atmosphere in the back.

It's a real camaraderie here.

Alright Len? What did the doctor say?

Says it's fungal.

This is Mr Brewster.

Morning, Mr Brewster. What are you doing here?

I just brought in my friend, Clive.

You want a job on boxes?

Only Stan didn't come in again.

I reckon he's dead, this time.

You're joking.

In a few years maybe, Peter.

Listen, Clive... if you get yourself a nice little part-time job, you'll be the richest person you know.

It's not the money, Peter.

I don't want to stop being a postman.

You just don't understand, do you?

We're not having bikes, any more.

Your job... isn't going to exist.

I'll do a walk.

We've got all the walkers we want. I'll learn to drive.

Face it this time. I don't want to stop work.

OK, OK, OK.

You have it your way, if you want to keep working, you... keep working.

I'll give customer care a call.

They'll soon fix you up.

Customer care?

Yes, always a job down there for a man of your experience.

Can sit in a nice warm office and deal with complaints all day.

Hello, Kelvin...

Alright.

I'll retire.

Vikings of stature were always buried with their boats, so they could cross the river to heaven.

Inside were placed objects of gold, and bronze, and assorted articles of war.

Now, we know that Redrick was a Viking of stature.

I mean, his boat would've been dripping with gold and stuff.

Now the question is, was the Viking burial ground sited on the mudflat, or up where Carpet City is now?

See, Clive?

The secret of good metal-detecting, is research.

Pony Express rider Rob Haslam, was just past Cold Springs, Nevada, when Coyote Indians ambushed him.

One by one he picked them off with his twin revolvers.

Then an arrow embedded into his arm, hit the bone and lay there quivering.

Wyatt galloped down, but another arrow tore into his cheek, knocking out 5 teeth and breaking his jaw.

You're early.

Just wanted to wish you good luck on your last day.

You alright? Fine.

You got bags under your eyes. Don't worry about me.

You saw that programme last night, didn't you?

No, I didn't, Les.

Apparently, the Kalahari bushmen have remained unchanged for over 2000 years.

What, like, totally unchanged? Aye.

Give it to 'em one last time, Clive.

Yeah, cheers, Clive...


Oh... I'm retired.

This is my last day.

In fact, I've been given early retirement.

Mm.

Anyway, I'd just like to say how much I've enjoyed being your postman.

Been a wonderful job.

Ah.

Right.

Sign here, please.

Hm!

What?

That dressing gown, you must have had it 15 years.

Mum, it's the postman!

Mum!

Colin!

...give it to me...!

Thank you!


Ah, just caught me.

Hang on!

Is that a paper-clip in there?

Why?

So, what's your game?

A metal detector.

It was his wife's idea.

I'm the strippergram.

You probably guessed that.

It's nothing to do with me.

"Mr. and Mrs. Flint, Ratling Farm, Gloucestershire."

If this woman takes so much as her shoes off, you'll have industrial action. I mean it!

Stay calm!

We can settle this.

If he's not here in 5 minutes it won't matter.

Pick up my kids from school in half an hour.

Where the hell is he anyway?


Crouching low in the saddle, Clive Peacock spurred his mustang, and outpaced the Indian ponies, as he rode 2 days and nights, across country, towards...

Gloucestershire.

Where is he?

Well, I thought he was with you.

Yeah, well he's supposed to meet me up on the mudflats at 2 o'clock for his first metal-detecting lesson.

Mrs. Peacock?

Peter Robson, personnel.

Er... is Clive there? Is he?

No, I'm afraid he isn't.

It-it-it's just that he hasn't come off his rounds yet and we're getting all a little bit... you know...

concerned.

Well... maybe he just slipped in and out and no-one noticed.

Well, you know what Clive's like.

He doesn't like a fuss.

The, the problem is, er... Mrs. Peacock, that he, er... he hasn't brought in the 8 o'clock collection yet. or put his keys back in... in his box. and, er... well the time is now um... it's almost, er... 3 o'clock.

Um... Mrs. Peacock, so you see he's, um... he's 7 hours late, and, er... the regulations, er..

I'm sorry to say, stipulate that at this juncture, with Royal Mail missing, I've got to call the, er... police.

God, I hate driving in this town.

Want me to take over? No.

I mean, what's happening to the place?

Nothing works properly any more.

Can't even trust postmen now.

COME ON!


Anyone sitting here?


Where are you headed?

Gloucestershire.

Is that the B3095?

Avoid the contra-flow south of Warminster.

Right, thank you.

Where are you headed?

Barnford.

There's some broken glass outside the garden centre at Plympton.

Cheers.

What's your load?

Royal Mail.

Weetabix.

They said that electronic mail would be the death of the Post Office.

But no! No. No.

We invested and re-invested in technology, and, even as we speak, I believe they are working on virtual reality... postmen.

Stamp, stuck on upside down.

It'll have messed up all the settings.

We'll have to get the specialist in from Swindon.

You see, gentlemen, the beauty of progress.

A specialist from Swindon can be called in at a moments notice.

Mr. Robson? What?

Detective Sergeant Pitman.

I phoned.

Inspector.

Knowing Clive, he's just gone for a wander.

It is his last day.

You don't go for a wander with a bag of Royal Mail.

He could've been mugged.

I reckon he was mugged.

Clive wasn't the sort to get mugged.

Yeah, he's the sort nothing happens.

He's murder-proof.

He's irresistible.

So, why is he leaving?

He was offered early retirement.

A very effective package.

Couldn't resist it.

That's interesting. What?

That device for keeping your keys handy.

I thought that name was familiar. Clive Peacock.

He's that bloke in my neighbourhood watch. He's my neighbour.

So which one does he live in?

I don't know. Never actually spoken to him.

Wasn't the sort you speak to.

He's just gone for a bike ride, I'm sure.

It's the sort of thing he does when he's on edge.

You mean he's er... gone off like this before this.

Once or twice.

When he's been under stress.

You see, I don't think he was altogether happy about this early retirement.

Where does he go?

Just cycles about.

When I had the miscarriage, he went off then.

The problem is, Mrs. Peacock, Royal Mail's gone missing, and the sorting office has to treat that very seriously.

Well, Clive wouldn't have taken anything.

He'll be back by this evening.

Does he have any problems, Mrs. Peacock?

Money problems, anything like that?

No.

Do you know if er... he took anything with him this morning, like a change of clothes?

You notice anything of his missing?

No, sorry, I really don't know where things are.

See, Clive's the organised one.

Sorry, ironing board.

Library book.

I'm sure you're right, Mrs. Peacock.

He'll be back by tonight.

However, if for some reason he isn't, I'd like to give The Echo a call and get his picture in.

It, uh, always helps in these cases.

Oh, I see.

Thank you, Mrs. Peacock.

You'll let us know the minute you hear anything, won't you?

Yes, of course.

Come on, Clive.


Hello?

Hello?

Hello?

Christine?

Clive?

Clive, is that you?

Hello?


Um, I'm sorry to disturb you.

You're not disturbing me, pal, I'm just watching the ice-skating.

I was just wondering if you had a couple of spoons I could borrow.

Spoons? I've got a puncture.

Course you have.


Oh, thank you.

I've been in this business 15 years.

It's good money in shoes.

People always need shoes.

When I started, my wife gave me 6 months. she said, "6 months is about your fridges."

But shoes are a lot better to work with than fridges, and a damn sight lighter for a start.

That Hungarian judge never gives more than 6, you know.

You alright there?

Fine.

Here's one for you...

Just say... they wanted to make a film of your life. A movie.

Someone decided to make 'The Life of Clive', right?

Yeah?

Who would you have play you, in the main role, what actor?

I don't know. Have a think.

Well... maybe Dustin Hoffman.

Dustin Hoffman? Nooo.

You're not him at all.

He'd be miscast there, he would.

You're much more...

Ronnie Corbett.

Ronnie Corbett. He'd do the job well, he's a good little actor.

You want to know who I'd have play me?

Who?

Clint Eastwood.

Would you? Yeah.

Sort of wanderer. That's me.

Riding into town with my shoes, and riding out again.

Clint is very good at playing your normal bloke who doesn't seem like anything special on the surface, but he's got a lot more going underneath that people don't know about.

That's why I'd choose Dustin Hoffman.

Nooo, Dustin Hoffman's all wrong.

What about Michael Fish?

He could play you.

The weather man? If... Ronnie Corbett turned you down.


Hello, Ralph.

Crying?

No, just been peeling onions.

Tea? Aye.

Try not to worry yourself, Christine.

He's probably just had an accident or something.

He hasn't contacted me or anything.

I mean, what am I supposed to think?

I mean, where did he spend the night, for heaven's sake?

He didn't say anything to you?

No.

You two know each other so well.

We're mates, we don't talk much.

Ralph?

Yes?

Did you and Clive ever discuss sex?

No.

Never. No, honest, Christine, we never did.

It's just that... me and Clive never hit it off in bed, you know.

Oh, well he, he never mentioned that to me.

Sorry, er, itchy ankle.

Well, this just feels so unreal.

I mean...

I could go a week without... speaking or seeing Clive.

There were just signs that he lived here.

You know... washing up done, cottage pie in the fridge, newspapers picked up, Well, that's how I know he's not here, because... house is littered with newspapers.

Well, I feel a bit... helpless, like I'm.... drifting out to sea.

I'm always here, Christine.

If you need a lifeline.

Do you know how to cook a cottage pie?

Not a clue.

They are strong onions, aren't they?

Do you er... want a good time, love?

Just walk out to your truck, love, and I'll be in a minute.

I'm on my bike, actually.

I hate it when they say that.

Say what?

Police are baffled.

I'm not baffled, I'm...

Watching the situation develop.

Aren't you, Lawrence?

Exactly.

That Palmerston Road Runner still sneezing?

Oh, I don't know.

I reckon he's gonna be sponsored by Kleenex.

What do you reckon Clive Peacock's doing now?

I see him on his bicycle, cycling down a country lane, no traffic, jacket off, sun in his face, pork-pie in his saddlebag, just following the road wherever it takes him.

The sooner we bring him back home the better, really.

WPC McMahon speaking?

Lawrence! It's a journalist.

Called Sarah Seymour, from the Mail.

The where? The Daily Mail.

She says she wants to speak to you about the missing postman.

What?

Mr. Flint, Ratling Farm?

Thank you.


Don't move.

This is loaded.

I ain't frightened to use it.

I'll not have your sort coming round here poaching.

I'm not a poacher. I'm a postman.

Hah! You can tell the police that.

You're not Mr. Flint, are you?

I'm warning you, this is loaded.


I caught one.

One what? A poacher.

I'm a postman, honestly.

Well, postman, make yourself at home. I'll make some tea.

You can't make him a cup of tea. Call the police.

It's in the pot right now.

Is that loaded?

Course it's loaded.

Well, don't point it if it's loaded, Hugh.

Bloody poacher, I'm telling you.

He looks like a postman to me.

I am a postman!

This is Ratling Farm, right? Yeah.

I've got a letter for you.

There!

That's the reason I'm here. I don't want your pheasant.

You're in big trouble, you are.

Hugh?

We've got our own ways of dealing with your sort round here.

Unpleasant ways.

Hugh?

It's from Patricia.

What?

What does she say?

She says she's alright, and she's got a job in Boots.

Oh! there's a photo.

Oh, look at her.

Excuse me?

Do you do bed and breakfast, by any chance?

Goodnight, Mr. Peacock.

Goodnight.


Washed and pressed your shirt.

Oh, thank you.

Are you really a postman?

Yes.

Oh.


He says to tell you he's sorry about last night.

You can't be too careful.

Anyway, the gun wasn't really loaded.

It's alright.

And he... says to give you this.

The bird.

Let it hang for a couple of days, then casserole it.

Tell your wife.


Hello? Anyone home?

Mrs. Peacock?

My name's Sarah Seymour, I'm a journalist with the Daily Mail.

This is Dave Fowlds the photographer.

Morning.

I wanted to phone, but er... You've come about Clive?

Yes we have.

You see, we think there's a mystery here, Mrs. Peacock, and we're really aware of the psychological effects on the workforce by the introduction of technology.

Does early retirement undermine...

You can come in if you give me a cigarette.


Do you think the Post Office should take some responsibility for Clive's disappearance?

Sorry.

Do you really want to know?

I've decided that thinking about anything's a bad idea.

I'm keeping myself occupied just... just trying to stay sane.


You will have to give it a good shove.

It's not worked properly since Christmas.

People send too many cards these days.

Old letterboxes like this just can't cope.

The spring's seized up, that's all.

I've got some 3-in-one in my saddlebag.

There you are. Fixed it.

It's been all go today.

I had a mattress delivered this morning, and now you.

This is from her sister, probably cancelling her visit.

I've just read my horoscope and it said... expect good news.

What's yours?

Pardon?

Your star sign?

Oh, er, Leo.

Leo.

"All attempts at communication are doomed."

"You will be left isolated, "the odds are stacked against you, but persevere, "because the planetary aspects are in your favour."

Lucky old you.


Appletreewick.

Sounds nice.


I'm sorry about the Daily Mail, Mrs. Peacock.

It's The Echo, it likes to feed stories to the big boys.

I'm sorry about the mess, I'm...

I'm just stressing.

Oh.

There's no need to let things get you down, Mrs. Peacock.

Good news, at least, all this national coverage has produced a number of sightings of Clive.

Oh good, is he alright?

He seems perfectly alright, Mrs. Peacock.

Farm in Gloucestershire's been in touch and they actually put Clive up for the night.

And a man near Leamington Spa called in, said he was in there yesterday.

Well, what was he doing near Leamington Spa?

Apparently, he delivered a letter there.

He did the same at the farm in Gloucestershire.

This may sound fantastic, Mrs. Peacock, but it seems that Clive is...

Yes? delivering the mail.

Oh, well... well, that clears that up then, doesn't it?

Something the matter, Lawrence?

What do you make of her?

Well if I was behaving the way Clive Peacock is, I'd want my wife to do a lot more than she's doing.

Suppose so.

He's not really a criminal, is he?

When a man does a job for 30 years and then retires and looks around and sees an empty future, he's gonna say to himself, what have I done with my life?

Where's it gone?

What now?

Now before we move on to discuss the gypsy encampment, I'd like to confirm that the date for the outing to Stratford is September the 10th.

Now I know that's a month away, but I do need numbers now, so...

Just a moment, Ron, er... before we go any further, I've got something to say.

I want to know what our feelings are on the Clive Peacock situation.

Well, I'm afraid he'll have to have his name on the list by Friday or he can't come.

I wasn't referring to the outing, Ron.

I was referring to his disappearance, which should concern us all.

We are his neighbours, his friends, his community.

I know this is a police matter, but it occurred to me that maybe we're the ones best equipped to reach out to him in some way.

We could put photocopies of him on telegraph poles, like I did for my cat.

Is the water hot enough for a bath, Mrs. Springer?

We never had much of a sex life.

We never hit it off in bed.

I didn't mind. But now I can't help feeling we missed out.

Have you ever discussed it with him?


# I wonder if one day that you'll say that you care, # If you say you'll love me madly, I'll gladly be there, # Like a puppet on a string.

Ohh!

Ooh.

Oh...


Evening.

Evening.

She likes to watch the weather.

What the hell has she done to the wall?


Evening.

We've been talking. Aye.

We reckon that you're that missing postman.

Who?

The missing postman, the one that's been on the telly.

Oh no, you're mistaken.

And in the paper.

Does look like me, doesn't he?

You're fooling no-one, lad.

So... what are yer drinkin'?

In a split second if I was distracted, you'd grab a shotgun, right?

It wasn't quite like that. And you wrestled it out of his hand.

And made your escape, eh?

Good for you.

Danny, a pint for me and a pint for the postman.

Actually, I seem to remember it was getting dark by then, bedtime in fact.

So you went out to your bike and you pedalled off into the night firing warning shots.

And then you found somewhere to camp out under the stars.

Well, the mail has to go through, doesn't it?

So, where are you heading next, Clive?

Oh, it's all over now, I think. It's time I went home.

Hey, whadya mean, it's all over?

Well, the police want me, don't they?

You're not letting that worry you, are you?

Well, no...

You've got to accept a little opposition, Clive.

Yes, but I've stolen Royal Mail, see.

You've stolen nothing that's not rightfully yours.

Your job.

And besides, you can't give up now, Clive.

You've got too many people rooting for you.

You're an inspiration, you are.

What?

An inspiration. Who to?

To the working man and woman, Clive. That's who.

You've done what other folk only talk about doing.

Well, for your Matt working the estate agents now, Joe and his wife Pam, at the Gourmet Sandwich Bar, across the road.

Pam's Pantry, very popular.

Kevin here, he may manage the mountain bike shop, and me, I've a thriving narrow boat hire business.

We bought long ago. but we all used to work down at the rubber factory.

What's now the industrial bloody heritage centre.

Bastards.

When we lost our jobs, we were devastated.

But did we do anything about it?

No.

Did we heck.

We just accepted it.

Not like you.

You've set an example.

You stood up for yourself.

For what you know to be true.

I'm not sure about that.

Have another pint.

You're the man that refused to give up his job, you are.

The peoples' postman. That's what they'll call you.

Here are love.

But I can't go on, I need to get home to my wife.

Your missus can cope on her own, for a bit.

Stop bullying him, you lot.

If he wants to go home and see his wife, let him.

I love that rustic decor in your house, by the way.

Is that you, or her? All her.

I see. She can look after herself, she's that sort.

My bike is broken.

Kev?

What's the best bike in your shop?

Giant Bronco would suit him nicely.

Right, well give him one.

Vic's Narrow Boat Hire'll sponsor it.

Well, that's very kind...

And you're probably getting short of funds, as well.

Lads?

So don't tell us that it's all over, Clive Peacock.

Because it's not.

It's only just begun.

Hold on.

Push that button there. Alright.

Say 'cheese'. Cheese.

Got you.

I wonder if you could post this for me, please.

Only I don't think I can get anything else on the bike.

It's my uniform.

That'll cover the postage.

Thank you.

Old colour CU923.

They'll have all changed their design.

4130 CroMoly Boxer front forks, with replacement drop-outs. Weighs 11.7 kilos.

24 speed Shimano XT derailleurs with X-ray shift levers, and side panels with sleeping bag, waterproof, mats there, top and bottom, and protectors up front.

Now remember, you don't ride a bike like this, you give it it's head.

So trust it. Trust it, right.

Er... try to maintain a riding position between 30 and 60 degrees.

Right, you want the B6160 for Appletreewick, right?

You'll be there be teatime, no trouble.

What can I say?

Don't say anything. Just keep going till the bag's empty.

Keep going till the bag's empty, right?

Remember, every letter you deliver, it's one in the eye for the management.

One in the eye for the management.

Go Clive!

Thank you.

Lawrence.

What's going on, Pitman?

Well, the story seems to have caught the public's imagination, sir.

National press.

6 o'clock news.

Now there's only chat shows'll still be looking for him.

Well, he's proving hard to track down, sir.

Sorry to interrupt.

But Clive Peacock was seen last night in Skipton, in a pub called The Navigation.

Seems he was a bit drunk.

Right!

Get the local force to pick him up, and you two GET OUT THERE, and bring him back.

Yes, sir.

ONLY!

I really don't know what the problem is.

He's on a bicycle, and you've got a Vauxhall Astra.

Want me to drive?

No.

I'll talk to you, how's that?

Keep you awake.

Did you say you were married, Lawrence?

Er... divorced.

Two teenaged boys.

I'm divorced.

You got a girlfriend?

No.

How about you?

I haven't got a girlfriend.

No... er... no... um, well, I meant boyfriend, um... partner. No.

Why do you ask?

No reason.

Shall we see what's on the radio?

Do you like this?

Yes!

Morning...

Was he a charismatic sort of person, would you say?

Aye, he's Mr. Charismatic, he's also... very normal.

Aye, one o' the lads.

You know, he could hold his beer.

He had this underlying sadness about him.

Aye, he did.

Vulnerability.

Aye.

And you could see he had a grim determination.

Very grim.

He said, "I'm going to deliver these letters, if it's the last thing I do."

Oh, bloody hell! You're cuttin' in, mate.

Danny?

Danny?

This is Detective Sergeant Pitman, Dorset CID.

Wants to ask you a few questions about Clive Peacock.

Look, I'm supposed to be having me picture taken, I had this bloke from the Evening Argus, and then I promised the local radio an interview.

It won't take a minute.

Oh, I better fit you in then.

Am I right sitting here?

Superbly right.

I'm only asking, you see, because the cameraman from the television, he wanted me over there by the window, so he could, you know, get the canal in the background.

But the director disagreed, he wanted me over here on a stool, looking rather more casual.

You sit where you like, because all I want you to do is tell me what happened when you met Clive Peacock.

Well, don't you want to know what sort of person he was?

No.

Whether he looked like a man on a mission?

Just tell me what happened.

Well, 'er from the Daily Mail did.


Get off!

Get off!

Get down!

Theoretically, it's treason.

What is? Interfering with the Royal Mail.

We're looking at a modern-day Dick Turpin, here.

You have made him out to be more like Robin Hood.

Yeah, well he's going to be bigger than both of them by the time this is finished.

They dropped that story about the homosexual hippo at Bristol Zoo last night...

Welcome to Pam's Pantry. My name's Joe.

We're having our name-tags done soon.

How may I help you? Two teas.

Certainly, and er, may I tempt you with a gourmet sandwich from our choice of 256 combinations.

Be as creative as you like.

I'll have cheese.

Cheese.

I'll have prawn and avocado, please.

Wise choice. Very popular.

What are you lot doing here?

That's what I'd like to know.

None of you cares one jot about Clive Peacock.

Why do you think he's run away like this?

Any ideas?

It's clear why Clive left.

As a protest against being replaced by a machine.

Miss, I know Clive Peacock, He wouldn't protest if you set fire to his trousers.

Oh, come on.

This is a good holiday story, you know that.

The public will identify with this bloke.

Doing what we'd all like to do.

Yep. - Hello. Hello.

Clive Peacock is crying out for help, can't you understand that?

He needs support, not an audience.

He's a symbol.

He's a bloody postman.

You lot need to remember that.

You're turning him into something he's not.

You're pumping him up like a balloon, just so you can let him go and everyone can watch him go phhhht.

Right round the room.

One prawn and avocado, one cheese, on the house.

Well, sir if you could see you make a mention of Pam's Pantry in your reports we'd be ever so grateful.

We're police, you blind pillock.

Well, there's no such thing as bad publicity.

Bollocks!

That's what Pam says.


OK. Go!

Are you Harriet?

Yes.

I think this is for you.

Mum?

It's the missing postman.

Well, why don't you come and join the party?

Yes!

He was seen in Macclesfield about half an hour ago.

They took their time giving us that.

That's for the newspapers to find out.

I'll ask for back-up, shall I?

No.

We won't need back-up.

# Happy birthday to you

# Happy birthday to you

# Happy birthday dear Harriette

# Happy birthday to you Hooray!

Everyone in my husband's factory thinks you're wonderful.

Except my husband, of course.

He's the Managing Director.


More parcels over there.

All right, all right. More parcels coming up.

Yay!

Oi! You lot!

Wait in your cars.

I'm asking the questions, this time.

And if you lot set one foot on this land, I'll have you for trespass.

I think you deserve this. Oh. Thank you.

The police are outside. What?

Quick, this way. Oh.

This way.

My hat.

Got it.

I'm Detective Sergeant Pitman.

You spoilt my party.

Yeah!

Thanks for having me.

Don't forget your party bag.

There he is!

...we can head him off on Main road.


Alright, Clive, let's call it a day, shall we?

In the car.

Clive.

It's gonna be alright.

You lot!

Stay back!

Right, Clive, time to come home.

Clive!

Hello, sister?

I won't come in tonight, if you don't mind.

It's all getting a bit of a strain.

I think I'll have an early night.

Thanks.

Yeah, bye.


Postman, Clive Peacock, climbed back in the saddle and headed for the pass.

Unaware of what dangers lay ahead.

All he knew, was that as long as he had mail beating in his bag, he would keep on riding.


Clive Peacock, the Dorset postman who went missing with a bag of mail after being given early retirement, appears to be delivering his letters by hand.

Clive was last seen crossing the Scottish border and heading towards the west coast.

The search for him is currently centred around opticians shops in the area.

It is believed that Clive's broken glasses are giving him a problem.

Today we are offering a 500 reward to anyone who has seen 'The Missing Postman'.

So whether you think that Clive Peacock is a lonely Luddite, or a survivor, striking a blow for the working man, give me a call now.

He's the people's postman, isn't he?

He's like Don Quixote on a bicycle.

He's the man who refuses to give in...

...ride already, you can feel it...

I got another letter from the missing postman...

I think he's off his trolley.

You can't go around behaving like that. He should be locked up.


Christine?

Christine, this paper, you seen it?

Seen what? He's on page 5.

That is the main feature page.

"He watched late night horror film with me", said Diane Walsh from Litchfield."

He'll be on the front before this is over.

I'm gonna start a scrap-book.

I'll tell you what... he isn't gonna recognise this place when he gets home, is he?

There's a parcel for him.

Well, it's from him, that's his own writing.

Well, aren't you gonna open it? No.

It feels like clothes, it's his dirty washing, I expect.

Have I er... have I come in at a bad time?

I'm sorry, love...

I'm very grateful for you coming round, keeping me up to date, really I am.

No trouble.

It's just that...

I've decided I've got to start thinking about myself a bit more in all this.

Of course you have, Christine.

I've convinced myself that...

Clive has gone off, because he has to work some things out, and when he's done that, I'll be happy to have him back.

There's nothing else I can do.

You've been a tower of strength, you know, Christine.

I am so impressed at the way you've kept going.

Well, it hasn't been easy.

You've been a big support to me, Ralph.

Someone's gotta look after you.

I do want you to keep on coming round.

Shall I...?

You have reached Christine Peacock's Interior Designs, unfortunately, there's no-one available to take your call at the moment, but if you leave a message after the tone I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

Interior Design?

Hello?

Is Mary there?

No, she isn't.

Well, who's that then?

I think you've got a wrong number.

Oh, I am sorry. I haven't disturbed you, have I?

No, no.

It's nothing important, I was just phoning for a chat.

That's alright.

Well, better get myself to bed.

Me too.

You're not from round here, are you?

No, Just passing through.

On your holidays?

Er... sort of.

I'm Norma, by the way.

I'm Clive.

I like that 'One Foot in the Grave' with whats-his-name, but they don't make 'em like they used to.

'Fawlty Towers' that one had me in stitches.

Yes, that too.

Escape and adventure.

The missing postman is supposed to personify escape and adventure.

This place does not say that to me.

Right come on, I want a creative idea out of each of you.

Hello. My name's Sarah Seymour. I'm a journalist with the Daily Mail.

I wonder if you could help me and tell me if this man has been in your shop recently.

It's that missing postman, Mr. Gourock.

I want this kept low-key, okay?

If and when he gets here, keep that ----- out the way.

Leave it to us.

There's just one thing.

You're on a double-yellow.

The traffic wardens are very keen ----- here.

You asking me to move my car?

One of them booked his own wife last week.

There's a pay and display not far from here.

There he bloody is.

Where's my keys? They're in your pocket!

No, they're not!

Come on.


I'll take this side.

Sorry. I'm desperate to go.

Oh, shit.

Wow, that's ten Hail Marys for a kickoff.

Oh, no.

What are you doing there?

I dropped my glasses.

Just tell me your sins, there's a good man.

What sins do you mean exactly?

I don't know what sins.

Start with bad language and work your way up.

Bad language. Right.

And um...

I've stolen something.

You'll say five Hail Marys and five Our fathers and you will give those letters back.

How about if I deliver them? What?

Wouldn't that be all right?

Yes, all right.

Every one of them, mind.

Now make an act of contrition then go in peace.

God be with you.

You need help.

I haven't got the equipment to replace these over the counter, Mr. Peacock.

They need to be sent away.

Take a fortnight to get a new pair, I'm afraid.

Hang on. I'm thinking, if there's someone with a similar prescription to Mr. Peacock's.

Someone who lives locally.

Maybe they can loan 'em up here.

I don't want to impose. You're not imposing, Mr. Peacock.

But they said you'd get the support of everyone who wears glasses.

They haven't had somebody like you they could champion since Eddie the Eagle.

You're heading for Allen, is that right?

Yes.

Mr. Sinclair, Glenloom Cottage, about a mile from the ferry. Similar prescription.

No telephone number, but you can always call in.

Worth a try.

Thank you very much.

You'll find us a helpful lot in the general optical council.

I'd like to think of it as sort of RAC for the visually impaired.

If you're ever in need of any assistance don't hesitate to call any one of us.

Thank you.


Hello.

Anyone home.

Mr. Sinclair.

...one-lane higher.

Both of these these guys really...

...I know they both want to make it to the final... so they talk to their coach, Terry Dennison... after the heat this morning and very confident that both these lads can go very fast indeed here...

Mr. Sinclair?

Oh, there you are.

I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Sinclair.

Um... you don't know me...

You're missing the end of Grandstand, Mr. Sinclair.

Wake up, Mr. Sinclair!


Oh, I'm speaking for Mr. Sinclair.

No, I'm just a neighbour, but I think the doctor should see him as soon as he can.

No, he can't come into surgery.

Thank you.


Ahhhh...!

Ooh.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Ooh.

Oh.


It's me... the missing postman.

Ooh.

Oh.

Ohh.

THE LOVELY LINDA


Oh, you're awake, are you?

And how are you feeling now?

Fine. Where are my clothes...?

Your clothes are drying, now don't you worry about them.

Oh, that curtain rail's fallen off again.

It's on my list of things to do.

Would you look at it out there.

It's the tail end of hurricane Lucy, you know?

You were in a state.

I almost called the doctor, right, you had such a temperature.

All that way with a letter.

And it was just someone wanting bed and breakfast on the bank holiday weekend.

I'll have to say no, as well.

Doesn't everyone look stupid with a thermometer in their mouth.


Where do you think you're going?

I've got to get moving.

You don't understand. You won't got off the island today.

The boats won't cross in this.

Besides, you look as if you could use a day off.

Come on.

I thought you might have a letter for me.

I thought if anyone deserves one, I do.

I'm a great letter writer, you see.

I write at least one a day.

Who to?

I write to my MP.

I write to the local bus company a lot.

My pen friend in Canada.

I'm writing to Rowntrees at the moment, about the new orange flavoured KitKat.

It was a bold move to meddle with something so popular but they did and it worked.

You've had a lark, haven't you?

What does your wife say?

She looks after herself.

You sound like my husband.

Where is your husband?

He's at sea.

He's a fisherman.

He wasn't out last night.

Somewhere.

Linda.

What?

I just wanted to see if your name was Linda.

Here's me and Howard on our honeymoon.

We took The Lovely Linda over to Skye. We had a beautiful week.

Here's me gutting fish, look.

What's this?

That's me one Christmas.

You've got a black eye.

Howard hit me. He was drunk.

They all drink too much when they're home.

I made my friend, Trisha, take the picture.

She didn't want to but I insisted.

I think a photo album should reflect the unhappy memories as well as the happy ones. They're all part of life.

There's Howard burying the dog, look.

When's Howard due home?

Would you like a whisky, Mr. Peacock?

Why not, Mrs. Taylor.

I wrote to this distillery and they sent me a free case of this stuff.

It must have been a particularly good letter.

I told them how the product got me through a difficult time in my life... when the rescue stopped looking for Howard.

What are you saying?

I'm saying... that he's lost at sea.

They never found him.

Never even found the boat.

He's been lost for 2 years now.

I've got a picture of the helicopter crew somewhere if you'd like to see it.

No, no, that's all right.

Has anyone stayed here since Howard disappeared?

No. The house needs too much work.

We were in the middle of fixing the place up.

I used to save up jobs that needed doing while he was away.

I still write them down on bits of paper and put them in here.

When he was home we used to take them out one by one and do them together.

"Erect cling film dispenser in kitchen."

Well, don't look at me, I'm no good at DIY.

My wife looks after all that kind of thing.

Did she never show you how? No.

How do you expect to be any good at something if nobody shows you how?

Come on.

You'll soon pick it up.


Well?

"Grout the splash tiles around the bath."

Come on.

Need to do that window, as well.


Would you do me a favour, Mr. Peacock? Certainly.

I've got an itch on my back, would you scratch it for me?

Half way up, over to the right-hand side.

Up a bit.

Left a bit.

Up a bit more.

Oh, yeah.

Lucy's such a gentle name.

A child's name.

I wouldn't call her Hurricane Lucy.

I wonder who makes up the names for hurricanes.

Why are you running away, Mr. Peacock?

Something I'm good at, Mrs. Taylor.


Ooh.

Pins and needles.

Oh.

Thank you.

Heard the news?

Plane crash in Colombia, 93 dead, including crew.

Morning, Frank.

This is a friend of Howard's, he got stranded by the storm.

You'll be pleased to know that the ferries are running again, then.

I thought I'd stay and, uh, finish the job.

Who are you writing to now?

Zanussi.

Who?

Zanussi,the washing machine people.

I bought on of their models recently and I really like it, so I'm writing to tell them.

I love the taste of envelopes.

Just scratch your back again.

I was just thinking, if I was to post a letter to my pen friend in Canada, I could give it to you to deliver and then I could sit on your crossbar and we could head off together.

Better still, we could get a tandem.

And then from there I could write a birthday card to the Brazilian prime minister and we could cycle down to Rio.

From there, I'd write to the East and Orient Hotel in Penang.

Ordering a double room with a bath and sea view and we could head out east.

We could travel the world on the price of a stamp.

Postal service isn't to be abused, you know?

I know.

I was just thinking, what are you gonna do when you run out of letters?

That bone marrow woman's dead.

Oh, dear.

Uzbekistan's flared up as well.

It's all gloom and doom.

Where is Uzbekistan?

I don't know.

I just listen to the wireless.

I've only been off this island the once, when I bought my Reliant Robin in 1977.

Switch on the wireless and the world comes to you.

That's my motto.

It's a nice spot you've got here.

That's what they say on the tourist brochure.

"An idyllic fishing port where time has stood still."

Get a lot of visitors here, you know?

They're going to put traffic bumps along this road soon.


Have you ever been unfaithful before?

This doesn't feel like being unfaithful.

No.

Feels like something I should've done a long time ago.

Good.

I've always wanted to lie awake with my lover in the dark.

And tell her things I've never told anyone else.

Like what?

Things.

What things?

There actually was something that happened 22 years ago.

Yeah.

When my wife was pregnant.

About 6 weeks before the baby was born.

You never said you had a... I don't.

You see...

I was using the step ladder to change a light bulb.

And one of the steps gave way and broke.

Third from the bottom.

But I didn't repair it.

I just slotted it back together and left it for the next person to take the blame.

As a child might.

Well, the next person was my wife.

Eight months pregnant and she still insisted on decorating the house.

I kept asking her to take it easy.

We'd been trying to have a baby for some time, you see.

She'd already had one miscarriage.

But she said decorating relaxed her.

She was doing the bedroom for the baby.

Anyway, she climbed the step ladder... when she got to the third rung, it... gave way and she fell.

She... she was a bit shaken but she didn't seem to have hurt herself.

But then she stopped feeling the baby kick.

We went to see the doctor and he spent a long time examining her and we called in another doctor and finally they told us they were very sorry but... they could find no heartbeat for the child.

We were sent for an x-ray and there was the umbilical cord knotted around its neck.

Baby still had to born of course.

Christine still had to go through labour.

We went into hospital one dark, stormy night in November.

I packed a bag and made some sandwiches.

Christine went through all the pain.

When it was born, a little boy, we never even saw him.

We never got to hold him, even.

Midwives whisked him away and... we were left alone in this pale green room.

We thought about giving him a name, but... decided not to in the end.

Later... one of the nurses told us he'd been perfect.

Christine had to stay in the hospital overnight.

She said she could hear the cries of the newborn babies down the corridor.

I remember I had to walk home, 'cause I only had a provisional licence.

I couldn't drive unless someone who'd passed their test was sitting in the passenger seat.

When I got home, I...

I made a cottage pie, to keep busy.

I couldn't look in the mirror for days.

Looking back on it now, I...

I wished I'd got the next door neighbour to come and take a picture of me, like you would've done.

'Cause I've nothing to remember it all by now.

I'd do a course in cycle maintenance, to keep my mind off it.

Christine did one in plastering.

We never talked about it. That's not our way.

Anything unpleasant happens to us, we just try and forget about it.

So, you see...

I've never owned up about the step ladder.

You're the first person I've told in 20 years.

This is about as emotional as I get, by the way.

# OPERA PLAYING... #


They're only journalists.

Police are never far behind.

I can't stop now. I need to...

Oh, finish the job.

Go on.

Turn right at the house.

Take the bike lane and you'll be on road to the ferry.

You'll catch the 8:00. I'll stall them for as long as I can.

Here.

What's this?

Just open it in an emergency.

Mrs. Taylor.

Hi. You'd be looking for bed and breakfast.

Well, you'll be pleased to know that we've just opened again after, uh... an extensive refurbishment. Come on through.


He never mentioned anything about being a postman.

He said his name was Mr. Smith.

He kept showing me a picture of his wife.

He was the perfect guest, I might add.

A real gentleman.

I was quite sorry when he left... yesterday afternoon.

"To my lovely Linda, "bed and breakfast will never be the same again.

Clive."

Yeah, Maughan.

Oh...thank you.


Stone me, what a stroke of luck.

The missing bloody postman!

Trevor Ramsay...

Trevor Ramsay, Public Relations.

I handle Carlton Hotel. Prestige chain.

We've got a property on the island.

Could've put you up there, if I'd known. - Thank you.

Clive, let me buy you breakfast.

There's a little cafe over by the booking office.

We need to talk.

It's very kind, but I'm catching a boat.

Clive, come on, you've done very well. You've strung them along, but you're gonna have to cash in soon.

And then you're gonna need professional help.

Which newspaper you dealing with?

Um... I'm not interested, thank you.

Oh Clive, you've got to tell your story to a national newspaper.

You owe that much to your public.

And-and what about merchandise, huh?

I don't suppose you've even thought about that, have you? What about this?

Right off the top of my head: The Missing Postman board game.

Six players, one person's the missing postman, he throws to start and the others have to catch him before he's delivered all the letters.

Be perfect for Christmas, that would. What's the matter?

Ah, my friends, the media.

You stay here, I'll take care of them.

And, uh, how much are Bick's Narrow Boat Hire paying you, by the way?

Nothing. Nothing?

Bastards!

I'm not having a client of mine treated like that.

I'll fix you up with ----- or someone.

Clive decided it was time that somebody made a stand.

He didn't want to be cast aside like some used part.

He knew that he had something that no machine could ever have.

A soul. There he is!

Give us a wave, Clive!

Give us a call, Clive!

Page 3, look.

We're getting there.

I went to school with him.

Does that cobweb look real to you? Yes.

Doesn't to me.

Look at that!

That woman from Palmerston Road. The one who can't stop sneezing.

She's got herself in the nationals now.

Only page 7, mind.

How do get spiders to adventure out, do you know?

No. Ooh, guess what?

Guess what?

I've been asked to decorate a hairdressing salon in town.

That is wonderful news, Christine!

Peacock Interiors is taking off. I feel inspired.

You've changed, you know?

That's the most philosophical thing you've ever said to me, Ralph.

Oh, sorry.

Oh, guess who else phoned? The Tourist Board.

They want to put a plaque outside the house, saying the missing postman lives here.

Can you believe that? You're kidding!

I said to them: "but the missing postman doesn't live here, he's missing."

I reckon this Tim Rice is very underestimated.

I mean, have you ever really listened to the words to Evita?

What the hell was that?

This is the night mail crossing the border.

Bringing the cheque and the postal order.

Letters for the rich, letters for the poor.

The shop on the corner, the girl next door.

Letters of thanks, letters from banks.

Applications, situations, and timid lovers' declarations.

And gossip, gossip from all the nation.

Hello. Um, you don't know me...

Oh, yes I do.

You know, I've always wanted a Giant Bronco.

They're dependable machines.

Do you think the carbon fibre production process really makes a difference to performance?

A bit.

What about the laser revs?

Do they enable you to create the 4-wheel drive effect?

Sometimes... uh, now and again.

You know... you should think about contact lenses, an adventurer like yourself.

New circumstantials, news financials.

Letters with holiday snaps, to enlargings.

Letters with faces drawn in the margins.

And the farmers he passes, no one wakes.

But the jug in the bedroom gently shakes.

Excuse me. Sorry.

Excuse me!

Staff announcement, Staff announcement...

Two months non-stop sneezing.

I wouldn't fancy that.

She's going for the world record.

What about that missing postman?

What about him?

Said in the paper that a letter delivered and cancelled by him is worth 300.

You're kidding?

No, I'm not.

He's got a letter of mine, you know?

Has he?

I posted it in that box at 7.30 on the morning he disappeared with the 8.00 collection.

So he must have it in his bag.

Excuse me... that letter you mentioned, do you remember where you sent it?

Who are you? He's our policeman officer.

It would really help me know where you addressed that letter to.

Uh, slow down, love.

It was to Points of View. The TV show?

I said, would you slow down, I can't open these stupid bags.

It was about Paul Daniels, how he brings a mountain of ash.

Are you sure you posted it that morning?

Look, would you slow down, you stupid bitch!

I want to see the manager about these bags.

Now look what you've done.

Are you sure you posted it that morning, before 8.00 to the BBC?!

You sure about that?!

Points of View?

You know, the TV show. Viewers write in...

I know what bloody Points of View is!

What I want to know is what it's got to do with anything.

It's the break I've been waiting for, sir.

Peacock has got that letter in his bag.

At last, I'm one step ahead of him.

I know where he's going.

Now, if I take a surveillance van, stake out TV Centre. I've got him!

No.

Sir, I really think it would be good for this town to bring Clive Peacock home.

Do you?

Well, that's fine.

'Cause I think it would be much better if he never came anywhere near this place again.

If you really want to do something for this town, Pitman, go and find the hooligan who loosened the chief traffic planning officer's wheel nuts!

Now, I could use police officers but I don't want a heavy-handed approach.

I want us, his neighbours to reach out to him and bring him back home safely.

Is this part of the community policing initiative, Lawrence?

You could say that, Ron, yes.

You can count me in then. And me.

And me, dear.

Are we going to be armed?

What?

Well, what happens if he resists arrest?

We're not going to arrest him, Len, we're gonna bring him home.

How?

Right, uh, well, this is what I intend to do:

Five volunteers, myself included, will take a van and taking shifts, we'll stake out the BBC Television Centre until Clive turns up.

I'll be one of them. And me.

Me too. I'll make some devilled eggs.

Good, right, very good.

Right, so, uh, I'll get the surveillance van and we'll set off first thing in the morning.

Spend all weekend up there if need be.

Well, what? This weekend?

Clive was last seen leaving an opticians near Leeds 2 nights ago and the rate he's travelling, he could be in London tomorrow afternoon.

Well, that would prove unpopular I think, Lawrence.

Yes! Certainly would.

Out of the question.

Why?

This weekend is the outing.

He hasn't been paying attention, has he?

There's an itinerary displayed in the newsagents with a menu from La langoustine and a list of those going.

I noticed your name isn't on it by the way, Lawrence.

Sod the stupid outing!

Would you like your bath now, Mrs Atheron?


Hello. ---

What's that for?

Celebrate. Your hairdressing contract.

There's something different about you tonight, Ralph.

Oh, yeah.

What?

Well... I don't know.

Of course... not carrying your metal detector.

I've only just discovered pasta.

Could virtually live off it.

It's so versatile.

I've an idea to decorate a wall with tagliatelle.

What do you think?

I think you're a very creative woman, Christine.

Thanks.

Just wish I'd started all this earlier.

Never knew what I was capable of.

Are you alright?

Fine.

I was wondering if I... oh... I...

No... after you.

No, no, after you.

Alright then.

I was just gonna ask... if I could spend the night with you.

Oh.

What were you gonna say?

I was just gonna say that... the hairdresser that I'm doing the job for, has got a whole chain of salons and he might ask me to redesign them all.

That would be wonderful. Yeah, it would, yeah.

I mean what I really need to get the business off the ground is good publicity.

Oh, I know.

So... what do you think, then Christine, about me... spending the night?

Look at these.

Clive used to look after them and I've neglected them.

Think you better go now, Ralph.

Right you are then.

Well, thank you very much, supper was very nice.

See myself out.

You did it!

Kid, you did it, after 22 years, you finally asked her.

You didn't muck about.

You came straight out with it. I'm proud of ya.

That is called being honest!


Morning, Lawrence.

Morning.

You're... sure you're happy about doing this now?

Yes.

I mean it's your Saturday off and everything.

I weren't doing anything special.

We could be there all weekend.

Good job we're fitted out then.


I can take the first watch.

You can get some rest on that mattress if you want.

No. I'll stay and keep you company.

You see, I enjoy my job.

I like the people I work with.

I've enjoyed getting to know you on this case, Lawrence.

Right.

At first I thought you were a bit, you know, stand-offish.

But you're just a loner really, aren't you?

I suppose I am.

Bit shy.

Is that why you've never called me by my first name?

I have.

Haven't I?

Haven't I called you... Rachel.

No, you never have.

I tell you what... Rachel.

Why don't you nick down to Shepherds Bush and get us something to eat from that Mexican takeaway we passed.

Why don't you do that?

Rachel.

See, it's the spiritual ingredient of sex that fascinates me.

Men never seem to understand that.

That's 'cause the pleasure they derive is so one dimensional.

Goodness, these burritos are tasty.

Seems to me that men experience sex from a purely physical basis.

Whereas women experience it on a number of different levels.

That chilli sauce makes your nose run, though, doesn't it?

Don't you agree, Lawrence?

Up to a point.

Maybe it's because men are so wrapped in role play.

They can't be themselves.

That's what I like about you, Lawrence.

You're not the self-conscious type.

You let women come to you, don't you?

What?

Sure you don't want some of this?

No thanks.

Don't let me drink it all now.

Oh, right, well maybe.

Got to enjoy your Saturday nights.

That's what I say.

What do you normally do for fun on the weekend, Lawrence?

Oh, I... try to unwind.

Doing what?

Tidy up and stuff.

Sometimes my boys come over.

How old are you Lawrence? 51.

You'll be up for retirement soon then, won't you?

Yeah. Next year, in fact.

What are you gonna do then?

Oh. Haven't really thought.

Don't tell me you're gonna become the missing policeman.

No, I'll get a part-time job, I suppose.

I know a lot of retired police officers gone into supermarket security.

Read more, watch documentaries.

Get more involved in the local community.

I'm looking forward to it.

You know Lawrence, I said you weren't self-conscious?

Well, you could loosen up a bit.

Do you think so? Without a doubt.

I suppose you're right.

Always wanted to play boogie-woogie piano.

Just well enough to get a few friends around for a session.

A few beers.

What are you doing?

I mean, you've got integrity.

I haven't met a man with integrity since I was 30.

But you've got to stop behaving like a grown up all the time.

Rachel, please!

Shut up, Lawrence.

Just come here and do something instinctive.

No... you're the first man I've ever met who hasn't tried to hold his stomach in while he took his shirt off.

No...

Oh, no...

Lawrence, where are you going?!

Clive!

Clive!

Clive!

Let me through, Police.

Oh, Clive, oh don't go, please!

Look...

I am a policeman... honestly, god.

You let him through, he's a postman!

He's the missing postman. I know he's the missing postman!

I'm the bloody policeman who's been trying to catch him.

I'm definitely not letting you in then. He's one of us.

Look... Clive, it's me, Lawrence Pitman.

How are you?

Alright.

Good.

It's good to see you...

I'm not gonna arrest you.

I just want to speak to you.

Speak to him, then.

I'm going to.

Clive, listen, look... this has gone on long enough.

People want you back home. Your wife wants you back.

Your friend with the metal detector, he wants you back.

The neighbourhood watch were saying just the other night how things aren't the same without you.

There's a lot of sympathy for you, Clive.

But don't push your luck, OK?

Excuse me, Lawrence, I think you're forgetting something.

You're forgetting me.

You tell him, Clive.

The truth is I've been trying to come home ever since I left.

Every day I wake up and like you, I think: "This has gone far enough, Clive."

"Time you went home now."

"Home to your wife, your friends, your retirement".

And then I think about it a bit more and I...

I get this knot inside my stomach, and I can't bring myself to do it.

All I know is that all I have to do, is put my hand in my bag, and bring out a letter, and everything's fine again.

What've you done to yourself?

You look different.

What have I done? I'll tell you what I've done:

I've gone and jumped off a cliff but instead of falling, I'm flying.

That, and I've got myself contact lenses.

A bit itchy but apparently I'll get used to them.

I've gotta go now.

Screwed that up, didn't ya?

What's your name? I won't tell you that.

Monday morning, you're gonna be out of a job.

I'll see to that personally. Suits me.

I'm getting my redundant, Friday.

Points Of View.

Don't suppose you've got any letters want posting?

No.

Bollocks.

Clive!

Clive!

Put this on for the photos, Clive.

Come on.

Put your bike in the back, hop in.

I've booked you into a hotel in the West End.

Mini bar, cable TV, you'll love it.

BY THE TIME YOU GET THIS I WILL BE HOME.

That's what I call publicity.

To tell you the truth I could've picked you up before they got to you.

But I thought why waste such a perfect photo opportunity.

I'd like The Full English if I may, please Trevor.

"The Full English", I love it.

It's just the image I want for you, Clive.

Full English breakfasts, red telephone boxes, Morris Minors, village cricket.

How many letters you got left? One.

Where to? Home.

Postcard to my wife.

Ah, that's beautiful, Clive.

Beautiful!

God... got a tear in my eye.

It's a real one.

Um, Full English, please.

'Postcard to his beloved wife, who'd stood by him through thick and thin.'

How'd you like your eggs, sir? Scrambled, please. And, um, I'd like some fried bread if you can manage it.

Bloody poignant, Clive, you know, that's what it is.

Go on, I'll have a kipper, as well.

Now... mobile phone, keep it handy at all times.

Once the newspaper deal's sorted then we need to talk about a book, OK?

We'll get that Sarah Seymour to ghost it.

Whatever you say, Trevor. The wheels.

And, uh, are you certain you want to cycle home?

Here you are. Thank you very much, sir.

You can't be tempted by a first-class rail ticket, no one'll know.

Well, thank you, Trevor. Bye.

You're stuffed with mystique you are, Clive.

That's good. Housewives love mystique.


Hello, Mrs. Peacock.

Trevor Ramsay. Trevor Ramsay Public Relations.

I love your house.


Hello. Ahh!

Who the hell's that?

I think we've met before.

Early this summer, near Cirencester.

I had a puncture. I remember you.

European Ice Skating Championships were on, weren't they?

Yes. You've lost weight.

You remember: you asked me who would play me in a film of my life?

Did I? Who did we decide?

You said Ronnie Corbett. Never!

I would never have said Ronnie Corbett.

He's not you at all. You're much more...

Dustin Hoffman? No, no, no.

You're more...

Harrison Ford. Yeah.

Good actor, Harrison Ford.

Good at action but got depth. Excuse me, I'm bursting!


Grrr!

Grrr!


It's me.

Clive?

I'm home!

Oh.

Yes you are, aren't you?

Get out of the way you bloody stupid....

What time is it? It's almost 8.

Oh my God, I've overslept!

They'll be waiting for him.

Oh, there you are. Perfect timing. We'll get you on the 8 o'clock news.

Now, there'll be plenty of time for that later.

Christine, get that uniform on him.

Clive! Clive...!

Oi!

Why don't you all come indoors.

Yes!

Ah, excuse me, you can't leave your vehicles here, I'm sorry.

It's residents only.

W-was it really a protest against being replaced by a machine, Clive?

Um... not really.

Was your aim to bring attention to the plight of workers cut off in their prime by redundancy and early retirement?

No.

What he means is, his journey was really much more of a quest.

Clive had his back against the wall, there was nothing else he could do.

Is that fettuccine on the wall?

Oh no, it's tacky telly. Um, I tried fettuccine and vermicelli but I just thought that... that this had more-more texture.

It's great.

Is that a real sycamore tree? Oh yes, of course.

Isn't she talented?

She could've just sat indoors and felt sorry for herself and no one would've blamed her. Not Christine Peacock!

You should see upstairs! It's like Camelot, I'm not kidding!

Is that real spider up there?

Where'd you get your ideas from, Christine?

Hello.

I was just wondering if, um... you know, one evening we could... go out for a drink or something.

Rachel?

Ah, we haven't really spoken much, the last couple of weeks.

Sir, it's very sweet of you, Lawrence.

But there is no need.

I know you're just trying to be nice. But it's all my fault.

I'm not trying to be nice.

And it wasn't anyone's fault.

I always fall for enigmatic men. That's my problem.

I'm not enigmatic!

Bye, Lawrence.

If you ever put another through my bloody door, I'll shove it up your...

Sorry.

I am sorry. I didn't know it was you. I'm s...

I've had a hard day.

Sorry.

So... you decided to come back after all.

You told me to come back.

Yes I did, didn't I?

And you got a new job.

Good job.

Local newspapers are very important to the community.

You don't want yours. No... oh, yes, yes, of course, I do, I do yeah, it's just I thought it was a circular from that lot from Birch and company.

Thanks.

I see you're wearing your glasses again.

Contact lenses didn't agree with me.

Oh.

Well... you're beginning to look like the Clive we used to know.

Thanks.


Christine.

Oh good, just in time.

Pass me that drill bit, would you?

Just there, yeah.

Thanks.

Christine, I wanted to ask you something.

Eh, you'll never guess what.

Homes and Gardens want to do a feature on me.

How about that?

What's the matter?

You know when I was away?

I thought we'd agreed to forget about that.

I've tried but I don't want to forget about it.

I want to remember every minute of it.

It's already beginning to feel like it happened to someone else.

Look, it'll take a little bit of time and then, you'll settle down again.

Christine, I can't spend the rest of my days passing about pots of paint.

Then you'll have to learn to cope!

Like I did.

You left me without a word.

I'm not letting you upset me.

I've got work to do.

Did you miss when I was gone? What?

Of course I did?

But did you really miss me?

Yes.

Did you ever stop what you were doing and wished that I was there?

I...

I had a lot to do.

House, now all this.

I couldn't just stop what I was doing.

And are you happy?

Yeah, of course.

I'm doing what I want.

You're doing what you really want to do more than anything in the world?

Yep.

Good.


We could travel the world on the price of a stamp.


Just open it in an emergency.


K.