"Morning" "TANNOY "This is a staff announcement"" ""It is cholesterol awareness week,"" ""and we've free medical check-ups,"" "... car park, this afternoon." "Thankyou."" "Bye." "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." "Ee, 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 post sensitive mail a day." "We invested and re-invested in technology, and look, if it helps" "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 eight people." "I've been dreaming about OCR for years." "There may have been 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 millenium." "Ooh, Look at that," "Scratch on her already." "Hoi!" "Get your hands off." "Sorry, Desmond." "That's Desmond." "OCR's personal technician." "Progress staring him in the face, that is." "You see, Clive..." "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 ggod old fashioned values." "Ginger nut?" "Oh, thankyou, 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?" "Er... no, Peter." "No." "Well, I'll be honest with you," "Clive, push-bikes don't exacly fit in with the new technology." "Leyland Daf's do push-bike's don't." "No." "You see, Clive, the labour force is going to have to be completely re-structured." "there's no way around that." "There are going to have to be some redundancies, I'm afraid." "Aren't you?" "I'm not going to make you redundant, no need to worry about that." "(Clive chuckles)" "No, we're going to give you early retirement." "Early retirement, Peter?" "That is right." "Oh, you're gonna be overwhelmed, aren't you, Clive?" "Well,(whispers)couldn't happen to a nicer bloke." "(Alarm blares)" "That'll be another bloody letter to Peterborough." "Here's the culprit." "It's got a paper-clip, you see." "This is a sophisticated piece of machinery, it can't be dealing with paper-clips." "Right, candles." "Right, car keys." "(radio)The new one-way system is a French design, based on a series of interconnecting, ever-decreasing ring-roads, each moving in an alternative, opposite direction." "alternative, opposite?" "Yes, er, an alternative, opp..." "(radio off)" "(radio in backround)" "Christine?" "I've just had it together." "You wanna do what?" "I've got some news." "I'll be down in a minute." "(knocks on window)" "Christine." "Can't stop, I've 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." "O-o-h, 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." "Dunno if I can just stop." "'Course you can, get yourself a nice little part-time job, to keep youself in pocket." "And 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, two 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 two days running." "That's the joy of metal-detecting, as you will soon discover." "Here y'are, here y'are." "Look at that." "It's at least five 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 and also not over-reacting." "Sergeant Kitten 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 Cottage Funds?" "Well, I really don't think we need worry..." "In my opinion, video surveilance would be more appropriate, with the holidays coming up." "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 think i've said all I can on this subject." "Thankyou, 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 reckon the culprits 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 moved in." "I think you might check that out." "Well, I'd like to saya few words on the erm..." "Neighbourhood Watch annual outing, if I may." "Is that the time?" "Will you excuse me, erm" "I need to get to the laundrette." "Statford 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've 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." "Suddenly?" "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 d'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 flat." "It's not difficult." "I started out on boxes." "I help make the 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." "(Coughing)" "It's a real comeraderie here." "Alright Len?" "What did the doctor say?" "Said it's fungal." "This is Mr,." "Brewster." "Morning, Mr. Brewster." "What are you doing here?" "I just thought you might ?" "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." "Sit in a nice warm office and deal with complaints all day." "Hi, 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 have been dripping with gold and stuff." "Now the question is, was the Viking burial ground sited on the mudflats, 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." "Another arrow tore into his cheek, knocking out five teeth and breaking his jaw." "You're early." "Just wanted to wish you good luck on your last day." "You alright?" "Fine." "Got bags under your eyes." "Don't worry about it." "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." "Ah!" "I'm retired." "This is my last day." "In fact, I've been given early retirement." "Anyway, I'd just like to say how much I've enjoyed being your postman." "Been a wonderful job." "Right." "Sign here, please." "Hm!" "What?" "That dressing gown, you must have had it 15 years." "(Sounds of children playing)" "Thankyou!" "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." "(Bawdy cheering and applause)" "I'm the strippergram." "(More bawdy cheering)" "You probably guessed that." "It's nothing to do with me." "(Horn honking)" "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!" "(Booing)" "Play it calm." "We can settle this." "If he's not here in five minutes it won't matter." "Pick up my kids from school in half an hour." "Where the hell is he anyway?" "Clive Peacock spurred his mustang, outpaced the Indian hordes, as he rode two 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 so that you can help with his wherabouts." "and we're getting more than 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 erm... it's almost er... 3-o-clock." "Erm..." "Mrs. Peacock, so you see he's, erm... he's seven 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." "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." "(Honks the horn)" "COME ON!" "(She chuckles)" "Anyone sitting here?" "Where you heading?" "Gloucestershire." "Is that the B3095?" "Avoid the contra-flow south of Warminster." "Right, thankyou." "Where you headed?" "Barnford." "There's some broken glass outside the garden cemtre, I think." "Thanks." "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... (Alarm) 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 irresistable." "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 uploading my neighbourhood watch." "He's my neighbour." "So which one does he live in?" "I don't know." "Never acually 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," "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 anyhting." "He'll be back by this evening." "Does he have any problems, Mrs. Peacock?" "Money problems, anything like that?" "No." "D'you know if er... he took anything with him this morning, like a change of clothes?" "You noticed anything of his missing?" "I'm 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 just now." "However, if for some reason he isn't back will you give me a call and with his picture." "Peter Hill helps in these cases." "Oh, I see." "Thankyou, Mrs. Peacock." "You'll you let us know the minute you hear anything, won't you?" "Yes, of course." "(Sighs) Come on, Clive." "(Ring tone)" "(Phone rings)" "Hello?" "Hello?" "Hello?" "Christine?" "Clive?" "Clive, is that you?" "(Bangs the phone)" "Hullo?" "(Knocks door)" "Erm, 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 os spoons I could borrow." "Spoons?" "I've had a puncture." "Course you have." "(Water bubbles)" "Oh, thankyou." "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 six months." "she said, "Six 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 conjuring judge never gives more than six, 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, whatever?" "I don't know." "Have a think." "Well... maybe Dustin Hoffman." "Dustin Hoffman?" "No-o-o." "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 anyhting 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." "No-o-o, Dustin Hoffman's all wrong." "What about Michael Fish?" "He could play you." "The weather man?" "Yeah." "Ronnie Corbett turned you down." "(Sobs)" "(Knock at door)" "Hello, Ralph." "Crying?" "No, just been peeling onions." "Tea?" "Aye." "He han'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." "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." "Ah, well he, he never mentioned that to me." "Sorry, I er, itching 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." "(Sniffs)" "I feel a bit... helpless, like I'm.... drifting out to sea." "I'm always here, Christine." "If you need a lifeline." "(Sniffs)" "Do you know how to cook cottage pie?" "Not a clue." "(Sobs)" "They are strong onions, aren't they?" "D'you er... want a good time, love?" "Just walk out to your truck, love, I'll be there 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." "Palmerston Road Runner still sneezing?" "Oh, I dunno." "I reckon she's gonna be sponsored by Kleenex." "What d'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 get him back home the better, really." "(Telephone rings)" "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?" "Thankyou." "(Gun cocks.)" "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?" "Hold up!" "I'm warning you, this is loaded." "I'm a postman, honestly." "Well, postman, make yourself at home." "I'll make some cake." "You can't make him a cup of tea." "Call the police." "It's in the pot right now." "It's not loaded." "Course it's loaded." "Bloody poacher, I'm telling you." "He looks like a postman to me." "I am a postman." "This is Ratling Farm, right?" "Yes." "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 he'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." "(Cock crows)" "Washed and pressed your shirt." "Oh, thankyou." "(Whispers) He washed it." "Yes." "Just to tell you we're sorry about last night." "We can't be too careful." "Anyway, the gun wasn't really loaded." "It's alright." "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'sSarah 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?" "(Clattering)" "Sorry." "Do you really wanna know?" "I've decided that thinking about anything's a bad idea." "I'm keeping myself occupied just... just trying to stay sane." "You have to give it a good blow." "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 mysaddlebag." "There you are." "Fixed it." "It's been all go today." "I had a matress delivered this morning, and now you." "This is from her sister, probably cancelling her visit." "I've just read my horroscope 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 planetry 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 distressing." "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 they managed to 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 dlivered 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 the, doesn't it." "Something the matter, Lawrence?" "What can you make of her?" "Well if I was behaving the way Clive Peacock is," "I'd want my wife to worry more than she's doing." "S'pose so." "He's not really a criminal, is he?" "When a man does a job for thirty years and then retires and looks around," "sees an empty future, he's gonna say to himself, what have I done in my life?" "Where's it gone?" "I don't know." "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 tenth." "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 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 occured 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?" "(Radio in background)" "# 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." "(Screech) OH!" "Evening." "Looks like you." "It's you innit?" "Whatever's she done to the wall?" "(Indistinct chatter)" "Evening." "We've been talking." "Aye." "We reckon that you're that missing postman." "Oh?" "The missing postman, 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 yer drinking?" "In a split second if I was distracted, you'd grab a shotgun, right?" "It wasn't quite like that, he 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?" "(Laughter)" "So, where're you heading next, Clive?" "Oh, it's all over now." "It's time I went home." "Hey, Hey, whadya mean, it's all over?" "Well, the police want me, don't they?" "You're not letting that worry you, are you?" "Not, 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, you know." "Well, for your Matt working the estate agents now," "Joe and his work at the Gourmet Sandwich Bar, across the road." "Kevin here, he may manage the mountain bike shop, amd me," "I've a thriving narrow boat hire business." "but we all used to work down at the wool 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 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 y'are love." "I can't go on, I need to get home to my wife." "The missus'll cope on her own, for a bit." "Stop bullying him, will you." "If he wants to go home to his wife, let him." "I love that rustic gate on your house, by the way." "Is that you, or her?" "Oh, her." "I see." "She can look after herself, she's that sort." "My bike's broken." "Kev?" "What's for this bike in your shop?" "Giant Bronco'd 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." "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." "That's my uniform." "That'll cover postage." "Thankyou." "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?" "Well, save it." "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." "(Echo) One in the eye for the management." "(Cheering)" "Thankyou." "Lawrence?" "What's going on, Pitman?" "I'm sorry sir, but it's caught the public imagination, sir." "National press." "6-o-clock news." "Now there's only chat shows'll still be looking for him." "And including my heart attack, now sir." "Sorry to interrupt." "Clive Peacock was seen last night in Skipton, in a pub called The Navigation." "It was in Skipton." "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 got 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?" "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... erm, well, I meant boyfriend, erm." "partner." "No." "Why d'you ask?" "No reason." "Shall we see what's on the radio?" "(Heavy pop music)" "D'YOU LIKE THIS?" "YES." "Morning, food." "Was he a charismatic sort of person, would you say?" "Aye, he's Mr. Charismatic, but he's also very normal." "Aye, one o' t'lads." "You know, he could hold his beer." "He had this underlying sadness about him." "Aye, he did." "Vulnerablity." "Aye." "And you could see he had a grim determination." "Very grim." "He said," ""I'm going to deliver these letters, if its the last thing I do."" "Danny?" "This is Detective Sergeant Pitman, Dorset CID." "Wants t'ask you a few questions about Clive Peacock." "Look, I'm supposed to be having my picture taken," "I had this bloke from the Evening Argus, and never promised the local radio an interview." "It won't take a minute." "Oh, I better take it 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 sits 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." "(Dogs barking)" "Theoretically, it's treason with a knife." "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 like it was nothing." "Welcome to Pam's Pantry." "my nam'e Hugh." "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 avacado, 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." "(All phones rings)" "(Multiple hellos)" "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 hin into something he's not." "You're pumping him up like a baloon, just so you can let him go and everyone can watch him go phhhht." "Right round the room." "One prawn and avacado, 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 think as bad publicity." "Bollocks!" "That's what Pam says." "(Children squealing)" "Are you Harriette?" "Yes." "I think this is for you." "Mom?" "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." "" "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" "(Hurray)" "Everyone in my husband's factory thinks you're wonderful." "Except my husband, of course." "He's the Managing Director." "(Children shout)" "Your parcel's over there." "One parcel coming up." "(YES)" "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." "You deserve this." "Oh." "Thankyou ." "You gotta come, the police are outside." "What?" "Quick, this way." "Oh." "This way." "My hat." "Got it." "I'm Detective Sergeant Pitman" "He's spoilt my party." "(Children shout)" "Thanks for having me." "Don't forget your party bag." "There he is!" "Can't stay ?" "we've only got one vehicle." "Alright, Clive," "Let's call it a day, shall we?" "." "In the car." "Right." "It's gonna be alright." "YOU LOT!" "STAY BACK!" "Right, Clive," "Time to come home." "CLIVE!" "(Journalist cheer)" "Hello, sister?" "I won't come in tonight, if you don't mind." "It's all getting a bit of a strain, you know." "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 back, he would keep on riding." "(Man) 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." "(Woman) Clive was last seen crossing the Scottish border and heading towards the west coast." "His search area is currently centred around opticians shops in the area." "It is believed that Clives's broken glasses are giving him a problem." "(Man) 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." "" "Christine?" "Christine, this paper, you seen it?" "Seen what?" "He's on page five." "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 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 to get 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." "(Telephone rings)" "Shall I...?" "(Answer machine)" "You have reached 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." "(Hangs up)" "Interior Design?" "(Phone rings)" "Hello?" "Is Mary there?" "No, she isn't." "Oh, that's maddening." "I think you've got a wrong number." "Oh, I am sorry." "I haven't disturbed you, have I?" "No, no." "It wasn't importnat, I was just wanting 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 holiday?" "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."