01:00 to 02:00

The obviously first step was to subtly ask Ian Devine if there was anything he’d like for Christmas. Or, better still, rummage around his personal effects to see if there were any clues as to his preferences. I snuck up to his bedroom, quietly opened his door and headed for his wardrobe. I oiled the hinges before opening as I was aware that the main wardrobe in the Wendy Padbury Suite tended to creak The large oak door thus swung silently open. Unfortunately Ian Devine had installed an alarm system.

“SOMEONE IS TRYING TO STEAL MY PIES… SOMEONE IS TRYING TO STEAL MY PIES” bellowed a cassette tape recording of Ian Devine’s dulcet tones. I leapt backwards, tripped over a pair of Ian Devine’s trousers and fell on my b-a-c-k-s-i-d-e.

“What is going on?” called the real Ian Devine. “Is it an attempted rape?”

“No, Ian Devine, it’s Dennis Brent.”

“Dennis Brent? You appear to be in my boudoir, Dennis Brent. Do you have a non-s-e-x-u-a-l reason for being here?”

“I do.”

“Then prey hurry along and deliver the explanation. I should warn you that I always sleep prepared and presently have my weapon in my hand.”

“The answer is perfectly logical and sound” I prevaricated.

“Stop prevaricating, Dennis Brent.”

“Sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Thank you.”

“Gratitude also accepted.”

“Splendid.”

“So why are you in my chamber?”

“Ah. Yes. Because I was… worried… about… carbon monoxide.”

“Carbon monoxide, Dennis Brent?”

“Carbon monoxide. I was unable to sleep and happened across a fascinating public information broadcast.”

“Do we have it in our video archive?”

“I was too engrossed to check.”

“That’s not like you.”

“Exactly, Ian Devine. My thoughts precisely and this change in personality is what made me wonder whether Brent Towers was filled with carbon monoxide.”

“Sound thinking, Dennis Brent.”

“And I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Very considerate of you.”

“And I fear I was overcome with fumes and fell over your trousers.”

“That doesn’t explain the opening of my pie cupboard.”

“Pie cupboard?”

“You would know it as the wardrobe.”

“Ah yes. I clutched at it for support as I was overcome with the previously mentioned fumes.”

“That seems very believable, Dennis Brent. Since I know your sensible provenance I shall accept your explanation and deactivate the area controls.” He pressed a button and the cassette tape message stopped abruptly.

“Would you care for a small cup of tea?” I asked.

“That would be rather palatable, Dennis Brent, since I am now unexpectedly awake.”

We retired to the drawing room and shared a small pot of tea. Our conversation was fascinating but didn’t get anywhere near the subject of Christmas presents.

“What” I began, inspiration having struck, “would you say was the greatest omission from your television archive?”

“Ho ho ho, Dennis Brent, ho ho ho.”

“Ian Devine?”

“Omissions? Me? With my wealth and contacts I have everything I could possibly want.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Absolutely everything?”

“Absolutely ev… well, there is one thing but it… no, it doesn’t matter.”

“What is it?”

“No no – it’s too painful to think about.”

“Tell Dennis.”

“Well, it was November the fifteenth, nineteen eighty five and Anglia Television had a brief power cut. An announcement was made and some music was played. I fear I do not have a visual copy of that power cut announcement.”

I stifled my natural instincts – to lose respect for this piffling amateur and to feel proud that I had something he didn’t have – and instead made a mental note to seek out cassette ATVPC851115 and duplicate it for Ian Devine.

“Such things are beyond even the most ardent collector” I lied. I could see Ian Devine actively losing respect for me as my lie had convinced him that I too was a mere amateur. I took a deep breath and absorbed the implied insult like the selfless martyr that I undoubtedly was.

“What shall we do now?” asked Ian Devine, draining the last tea from my small tea pot.

“We could watch The Feast of Steven – it being Christmas Eve” I suggested.

“A splendid idea, Dennis Brent, I’ve not seen it in colour for two hundred and thirty four days.”

I popped the DVD in the machine and we enjoyed the comedic romp with a second small pot of tea. I was tempted to get the sherry bottle out but I needed to keep a clear head. I had one gift idea (and one which wouldn’t cost me any money which was a bonus) and had only six more to get. As Mr Hartnell diddled about with some Arabs I glanced at my carriage clock.

01:59:58

01:59:59

02:00:00