PP: "That’s the one – some blind woman is making something out of clay, and Lionel’s just singing away, wearing a vest and a tweed jacket, and then, at the end of the video, Lionel finally finds out what the girl’s been making… and it’s a model of his head. The hilarious thing is, it’s an absolute monstrosity, looks like he’s got some sort of skin disease – in fact, you can barely recognise the poor sod. Then, he starts crooning again – sends shivers up my bloody spine every time. Great tune, but what a bloody awful video."

PP: "Well, maybe that’s what some of these young pop bands today would say, you know, these weirdo types who seem to have invaded the hit parade… Frank Ferdinand, Babyshambles… Bloodyshambles, more like! As my old mucker Keith Richards used to say, "there’s plenty of rock, but what about the example to set your children?"

PP: "He might have done, but he also made a point of saying that it was important to set a good example to your kids."

PP: "Hahahahaha, a good rock ‘n’ roll model, more like! Well, let’s put it this way. Keith made a few mistakes in his time, but bloody hell, we all like to let our hair down a bit. I’ve had maybe half a bitter too many on occasion – does that make me a hell-raiser?"

PP: "Are you sure? I ran over an old bat once."

PP: "No, I was sober."

PP: "No, I ran over an old bat. The handle was snapped off but there’s no mistaking the sound of willow on Goodyear. Looking back, I suppose it could actually have belonged to Graham Gooch, because I was quite near his weekend retreat in Margate. I used to spend many a happy evening there with the great man, drinking some of his home made wine and reminiscing about the good old days. Coh, you don’t know how to have fun ‘til you’ve seen his slides of the 1976 tour of Pakistan."

PP: "Bloody right I am – when Purves is rocking, don’t come ringing my doorbell."

PP: "Well, to be honest, I can’t actually say yet – it’s all a bit hush-hush if you know what I mean."

PP: "Well, there’s a special surprise for all the viewers that’s being kept top secret until the very night itself. I’m afraid I can’t say any more at this moment, because I’ve signed a confidentiality agreement, but I think I’m safe in saying that it’s something bloody spectacular, and people will be talking about it for years to come. I can’t wait, to be honest."

PP: "Well, think Angela Rippon flashing her pins to Morecambe and Wise. Think Angie telling Den that she’s pregnant in Eastenders. Think the time Alan Towers resigned, live on air, on Midlands Today. It’s that big, if not bigger."

PP: "I’ve got a massive one, mate – in fact, you could say, a pivotal role in the proceedings is held by yours truly. Without me, it wouldn’t work at all. Well, without me and one other person."

PP: "Er… well, I don’t know…"

PP: "Hmmm, well, I suppose it couldn’t do any harm to a blind horse to tell you that the other really big name involved in this… er, seminal piece of television is my old comrade-in-arms – the King’s Arms, usually, with a large brandy in his hand – John Noakes."

PP: "Yes, it’s a bloody massive coup for the Beeb, isn’t it? Purves and Noakes back on television together for the first time since… since…"

PP: "Yes, but that was just a bit of a fun. This is bloody serious stuff, gripping drama, excitement, tension… I’ve said too much so I’d better shut my trap before I’m in breach of my confidentiality agreement… hang on, I can feel something vibrating in my pocket. It’s either my phone or the wife’s… oh it’s my phone. Hold on two ticks. Hello? Yes? What? Today? Yes it is bloody short notice, isn’t it? What’s wrong with tomorrow? Did what? A horse? Well, if that’s the case, it can’t be helped, I suppose. The show must go on and all that. I’ll be there in ten. Yup… too right. Bye. Ciao. Bye. Bye… Hello? No, he’s gone."

PP: "Bit of a balls up, I’m afraid. We were supposed to be taping our big thing for Children In Need tomorrow night at a secret location, but there’s something else going on in there now, so we’re going to have to tape it today instead."

PP: "Yes, that is a bit of a bugger, isn’t it? Because I won’t get paid if we don’t… I mean, my readers will be heartbroken if they don’t hear from me."

PP: "Well, let me think… right. I tell you what, how about you come along to the filming with me? Let this week’s ‘Public Purves’ be an exclusive preview of this great bit of drama we’re doing for a great charitable cause."

PP: "Well, if I don’t actually tell you anything about it, and just let you watch what goes on, then I’m in the clear. I think. Anyway, let’s live a bit dangerously, eh? I’m a hell-raiser, aren’t I?"

PP: "Hell, yeah! Let’s burn some rubber and kick some arse! Just watch the leather upholstery in the Audi if you do by any chance set light to anything inflammable."

PP: "Watch out, you bloody road-hog! Did you see that? Bloody stupid… oh, look, couldn’t you have just guessed that? You shouldn’t be in a bloody car if you can’t drive it, love! Get your old man to teach you how to... well up yours too! Bloody women today – think they own the road. Ah look, there’s the studio on the left up there. And there’s Noaksie on the pavement, waiting for us."

PP: "No, that is Noaksie. What is he dressed like that for, the bloody great pillock? Just pull in behind this burned out Ford Capri Ghia, and I’ll sort the old fool out. Feel anything as we went over that brick? I’ll bet a pound to a pile of pig-effluent you didn’t – this baby’s got bloody brilliant shock absorbers."

PP: "Lovely car this – central locking, everything."

PP: "Vorsprung Dirk Bogarde, as those foreigners say. Now then, Noaksie… NOAKSIE! What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

JN: "That’s a reet nice way t’greet old mates, intit? ‘’Ello John, howayer?’ ‘Nice t’see yer mate’. That’s how yer should speak t’me, not wi’ some bloody boomin’ voice, yellin’ the odds."

PP: "John mate, you look like an old tramp. You stink of cheap whisky and… something else, something quite bloody hideous. What are you playing at?"

JN: "I’ve fell on ‘ard times, Pete. Things int what they used t’be."

PP: "Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t be a bloody fool. You’re heir to one of the richest families in the north, you live in a bloody great big palace, and for the last time, stop putting on that accent!"

JN: "I int puttin’ nothin’ on, Pete. I am ‘oo I am. Tek it or leave it, workin’ class, salt o’ t’Earth, me. And now, all me meagre pennies what I earned from t’telly, that’s all buggered off t’charities, and t’like. But I don’t mind, me. So long as I can see people ‘appy, I don’t mind about m’self."

PP: "Humble? Heart-warming? It’s a load of old bollocks, mate – he owns half of Yorkshire for God’s sake! He’s dressed up like this for effect, it’s like Go With Noakes all over again. I bet that battered old Austin Traveller over there is yours, isn’t it?"

JN: "Aye – it’s seen better days, but I can’t bring m’self to chuck it on scrap ‘eap. It reminds me o’ better days, and if it still goes, why see it go t’waste?"

PP: "My arse. Your bloody chauffeur drove you down here in a limo, and I bet one of your many servants had that sent down here on the back of a lorry. Under that piss-stained old mackintosh, I bet you’ve got a designer suit on. Anyway, we haven’t got time to argue. Let’s get inside and start filming. Have you got a copy of the script?"

JN: "’Ere yer go, Pete."

PP: "I hope it’s as good as you bloody said, mate."

JN: "Er, well, actually…"

PP: "Well, look… now… listen, mate – Noaksie’s got the best eye in showbiz for quality, and if he says it’s good, it’s good. Right?"

JN: "Pete, it’s a reet load o’shite."

PP: "But you… you… said on the blower last week that it was the best thing since sliced toast."

JN: "Sorry mate, but I’d been on t’piss, and I were just ramblin’ on a bit. It’s not a groundbreaking bit o’drama wi’ crackin’ special effects, like I might’ve made out. It’s a bit of a cheap laugh, and all."

PP: "You bloody old soak, I’ve signed the contract and everything now! A ‘bit of a laugh’? I’m not being made a bloody fool of by any young upstarts. Show me the script."

JN: "Well, I tell ‘ee what, why don’t we do a little run through, like. Yer man ‘ere can play t’other part, because Val’s not here yet."

PP: "Val? Singleton’s not in this, is she?"

JN: "O’ course she is! How else can we do scene wi’out ‘er? She’s as important to it as Lulu."

PP: "Whaaaaaaat?!? Lulu? Not that bloody elephant. It’s not a piss-take of… let me see that bloody script this instant!"

JN: "’Ere y’are, mate. ‘Ere be one for you an’ all."

PP: "This is a bloody disgrace! I can’t believe it. Yes, get on with it, you might as well."

JN: "’No she don’t, she wants to ‘ave a shit.’"

PP: "I can’t even bear to read this garbage out… Er, ‘no she doesn’t, it looks like she’s having a piss. You’re supposed to be drinking it, Lulu’."

JN: "’Ooh look, t’piss has gone all up Pete’s best pair o’slacks. He looks a proper tosser.’"

PP: "’You great big Northern nonce…’ Hold on a minute, who wrote all this crap? This is nothing like what happened when Lulu came on the show. We certainly wouldn’t have used words like ‘tosser’, or ‘piss’."

PP: "Bloody hell, she’ll hit the bloody roof. Anyway, it’s all academic - I’m not going on TV saying all this rubbish and I don’t care if I’ve signed the contract or not. They can shove it up their chuffs… er, arses. I’m leaving. Where’s my car?"

PP: "It’s been bloody half-inched! Didn’t you lock your bloody door or something?"

PP: "It is. The centre of the car is locked together, so it doesn’t fall apart on the bloody M6! That doesn’t mean you can leave it open for bloody criminals to steal. What am I going to tell the missus?"

JN: "Bloody ‘eck, Pete, you’ve gone and landed y’self wi’ right can o’shite. There’s only one thing fr’it."

PP: "What’s that, you drunken old sod?"

JN: "Fancy a pint?"

PP: "Aye. I mean, yes."

PP: "I… I… I… words really, bloody, fail me. Of all the nerve…"

PP: "Yes I do. Because of you, I’ve got to finance an evening in some rough drinking pit with this aged alcoholic who’ll start thinking I’m Shep by his fifth pint and start trying to stroke my head. You can shove off and call Inspector Plod about my car, you bloody ignoramous. Fancy leaving a car door unlocked in the middle of bloody Brixton."