QV: "Hullo, Peter."

PP: "Bright eyes... burning like fire..."

QV: "Er... Peter..."

PP: "Bright eyes.... how can you tumpty tum..."

QV: "Ah, by your earphones, I can see you’ve purchased an iPod, Peter."

PP: "How can the light that burned so brightly, suddenly turn so pale..."

QV: "Peter, can you hear me? Peter? PETER?"

PP: "Bright eyes... sorry? Did you say something?"

QV: "I was pointing out that you’ve purchased an iPod, Peter."

PP: "Yes I have - bloody marvellous, aren’t they? Smaller than a packet of Lambert & Butler, and you can store all your favourite tunes on it. I’ve not got a bloody clue how it works, though. It’s like science fiction. My son had to do all the electronic whatchamacallit to get it working. I’m a Luddite when it comes to all this computer stuff, and the infranet."

QV: "That actually links suspiciously well into our first question, which comes from Simon of Peterborough, who wants to know if there’s an official Peter Purves website."

PP: "I’ve not got a bloody... hang on... my PA’s waving her arms in the air. What’s up, love? Are you having a period or something? A what? Oh, right. Yes, yes... got it, thanks love. Is the coffee on? No? Well don’t bloody hang around, dear. How do I have it? I like my coffee like I like my women - black, and decaffeinated."

QV: "Er... yes. So about your website... what’s the address?"

PP: "God only knows. I’ve no idea if Xenobia was trying to tell me, or if she was menstruating or something. You know how women are, always clucking round you like a hen. What’s the next question?"

QV: "Right, well, our next question comes from David of Shrewsbury, who wants to know what you’re doing for Christmas this year."

PP: "Actually, we’re breaking from tradition this year and doing something a bit exciting. Usually, we just have a quiet Christmas, me and the missus and the kids, all meet up at our place and eat until we practically burst. Big bloody Turkey, sausages wrapped in bacon, potatoes, vegetables...."

QV: "Stuffing?"

PP: "If I don’t have too much brandy in the afternoon and the kids go home early, then yes."

QV: "I meant, do you enjoy stuffing with your food?"

PP: "Bloody hell, man, we’re not some bloody perverts. I mean, I might have experimented with root vegetables during my time with the Terroritals, but that was forty bloody years ago, and you had to do it or the lads would call you a poofter."

QV: "I meant... erm... so, what are you doing this year that’s different?"

PP: "Would you believe it? Straight-laced old Singleton is having a party at her place, and invited me, the missus, Noaksie, Lesley Judd, the whole gang of us, over for a Christmas reunion bash. It bloody knocked me for six when I got the invite, because the old girl’s never had much time for drinking and having a laugh."

QV: "Ah, the classic ‘Blue Peter’ line up back together again. Do you still get on with each other as well as you did back in the 1970s?"

PP: "Well, as you know, Noaksie’s like a brother to me. A brother with special needs, maybe, but still a bloody brother. Lesley’s a great laugh, and she can drink like a bloody fish, but me and Singleton have never really seen eye-to-eye since that business with the baby."

QV: "Baby?"

PP: "Yes, the ‘Blue Peter’ baby. An absolute bloody farce."

QV: "Of course - it was decided that ‘Blue Peter’ should feature a baby on the show, to demonstrate to viewers without a brother or a sister just how babies grew and developed and how they should be looked after. On 30th September 1968, at just fourteen weeks old, young Daniel made his debut, and made regular appearances up until June 1970. As I recall, you weren’t too pleased about having to be a surrogate father to the baby."

PP: "Too bloody right I wasn’t. But it isn’t because I’m some sort of male chauvinist pig who thinks that looking after babies is a woman’s job - even though that is obviously bloody true, that’s what God made them for. No, I was a bit pissed off because of the scandal - the whole thing was a bloody big cover-up, and if the truth had been made public back then, the show would have been up the creek without any sailors, I can tell you."

QV: "What happened?"

PP: "Well, I don’t know if I can... Oh all right, why the bloody hell not, eh? It was all so long ago, I’m sure nobody will mind now if I set the record straight. The thing was, Noaksie was a bit of a jack-the-lad at the time, and he always had a couple of pretty birds on the go, taking them to champagne dinners and to nightclubs. I was always a bit jealous, because I had to go home to the missus’s awful cooking, while he was out with some tottie at a posh restaurant. But it all blew up in his face when one of his knock offs turned up at the ‘Blue Peter’ office with a newborn baby, saying that Noaksie was the father, and if he didn’t help her out financially, she was going to the tabloids with the story. Now Biddy Baxter was horrified at the thought of such scandal engulfing the wholesome, family appeal of the show, so she took charge immediately. It was just as well, because Noaksie had crumbled like a very old wall, and was crying like a bloody great baby himself. He was such a talented guy, but he was completely screwed up emotionally, and had no idea how to cope with the fame that a show like ‘BP’ brought to people, which was why he was on the piss all the time."

QV: "A cautionary tale about the perils of..."

PP: "I haven’t finished yet!"

QV: "Sorry, Peter. I was just..."

PP: "Well, don’t! Anyway, Biddy made a few phone calls, and after getting the okay from the top floor told the young bit of skirt that the BBC would buy her baby off her, in return for her keeping her trap shut. The girl was one of those hippies, and was off her face on some hashish or something, so she agreed. She signed a bit of paper and buggered off, never to be seen again. Which left us with this bloody baby. Biddy and Edward Barnes came up with that plan about showing the kids what a baby was all about, but Noaksie simply refused to have anything to do with it. He just couldn’t handle the responsibility of the little blighter. Singleton was a bit stand-offish too, and claimed to be allergic to the smell of nappies. Which left me, and because I had already got a son at the time, Biddy said I was probably the best choice anyway. Now I went up the bloody wall, shouting and swearing at her. I didn’t want to be the father of John Noakes’ bastard, and I told her so. It was probably the bravest I’d ever been, because she ruled with a rod of iron and took no lip from nobody, particularly not the people who worked for her. Noaksie then said something about me, and because of the tension in the air, and the emotion, I’m ashamed to say I took a swing at him. Now he appeared to be a daredevil on screen with his parachute jumps and all that, but in reality, Noaksie was a complete sap. I just tapped him on the chin, and he went down like he’d been shot, screaming like a girl. Edward Barnes grabbed hold of me, but I was like a wild-man and I broke free, launching myself at Noaksie who was curled up on the floor making these gasping sounds. Looking at the face of children’s television, writhing on the floor in tears, brought me to my senses, and not a minute too bloody soon. I realised I’d hit a friend, and I’m not ashamed to say that I started crying too. Soon, we were hugging each other and in the spirit of the moment, I said to Biddy that I would look after the bloody baby, and I was true to my word. But I never bloody liked it, and fortunately after a year or so, it was adopted by one of the production team."

QV: "Well, that’s quite a stunning tale, Peter."

PP: "And it’s bloody true, every word of it."

QV: "Peter, thank you very much."