OH, I COME FROM ACTON IN WEST LONDON.

I'LL BE DOWN THE PUB, PROBABLY.

I CAN FEEL THE BLOOD SQUELCHING. CAN YOU HEAR IT?

- HOW'S IT GOING, MR PARTRIDGE?
- YEAH, COOL.

IS HE GOING TO GET PETROL? NO.
HE'S JUST USING THE FORECOURT TO TURN ROUND.

I THINK I MADE A COMPLAINT ABOUT YOU
AND YOU'RE PURSUING A VENDETTA,

MAYBE YOU'RE HERE TONIGHT
WITH A WIFE OR AN OLD FLAME.

- IT'S A SMALL "H".
- NO, MAN. YOU CAN SEE THAT FROM SPACE.

YOU COULD BE MY STUNTMAN.
YOU'VE GOT A GOOD PHYSIQUE.

ALL I WANT TO KNOW IS...
CAN YOU GIVE US A PYROTECHNICS AND LIGHT SHOW?

THAT'S A MILLION POUNDS!

- ALL RIGHT, LADS?
- ALL RIGHT, ALAN.

GOOD MORNING TO YOU, SIR.

AND A RECEIPT FOR A PAIR OF SHOES
FROM DOLCIS IN DUNDEE.

- HEY, I'VE GOT ANOTHER.
- FOUR WORDS.

OPENING SEQUENCE - ME IN TRAFALGAR SQUARE
FEEDING THE PIGEONS, GOING, "OH, GOD!"

HAVE YOU SEEN THE SIZE OF THE BOX-ROOM?

ANYWAY, TIME FOR ME NOW TO HAND OVER TO A MAN