All language subtitles for The Missing Postman Part 1a

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.
- Oh, yeah.

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, you 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 said get 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?

No, 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.
I've 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, what do you 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 the chat shows
will 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 Harriet

# 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.