1st December
I got to Outpost Bendaton at my usual, punctual, two and a half minutes to
nine and found the place locked up. This was not unusual - one of my jobs
as equal co-manager was to unlock the premises of a morning. But this was
extra locked up. Instead of merely deadlocking the front door, there was a
big padlock on it and the windows had been boarded up. I feared some kind
of attack (ranging from terrorists to my friend Ian Devine being informed
that the shop contained pies) and knocked on the door. It was at this
point that I noticed a small envelope sellotaped to the letter box.
"Dear Dennis Brent" it read after I'd carefully opened
it.
"By the time you read this note I will be gone. Outpost Bendaton has been
sold to a processed meat firm and I've moved away to...well let's just
keep that a secret. I loved every minute of working with you Dennis and
I'm sorry you couldn't feel the same way. I hope you find a new job soon -
whether it's with the processed meat firm or elsewhere - and that one day
we can meet as friends. I've left a flask by the back door - it's about
time I made you a coffee.
All my love
Brian Creswell (manager)"
A freak gust of wind caught me in the face and its
drying power caused my eyes to water in a defence mechanism. Obviously. I
went round to the back of the shop and picked up the flask. Naturally the
coffee had gone cold after two days but it was the thought that counted. I
took it home and put it in my cryogenic unit. Something within me wanted
to preserve the last remnants of my time at Outpost Bendaton. With Brian
Creswell.
3rd December
The time has come to put my mind to good use - Christmas shopping
beckoned. I had a large number of presents on my list but, once I'd
crossed out Elkie, Jennifer Morgan-Dalby and Brian Creswell, it left only
Father, Mother and my brother Donald. Oh and my friend Ian Devine. I went
to the local Bargainsave to pick out something special for my family and a
remarkable chain of events unfolded.
Firstly, father. I toyed with buying him a jumper (two for five pounds - I
could keep the nicer one for myself) but they only had Small and Extra
Small and we Brents lean to the well built side. Then I considered a
scientific calculator, an economy sized box of toilet rolls (fifty for
three pounds), a stuffed moose (too many painful memories for me), a My
Little Pony and a novelty Afro American style wig. But none of these cost
effective items seemed appropriate for Father. In the end I decided to get
him a bottle of sherry (I didn't even know the Upper Volta made sherry).
I only see mother once a year and, thus, know very little about what she
likes. I took the advice of someone I once saw on television and bought
her a bag of flour. It wasn't until I got home that I thought, maybe, they
had meant flowers. I've decided to give her the bottle of sherry and
father can have a copy of my new book. He'll like that. No he won't.
Next I had the straight forward task of buying something for my friend Ian
Devine. The beauty of Bargainsave is that I could purchase a pie as big as
my friend Ian Devine's head and still have change from a pound coin. The
eat-by date was the 10th December but my friend Ian Devine has the stomach
of a mountain goat. A very fat mountain goat.
My brother Donald, being such a bore, is a pain in the collar bone to buy
gifts for. The annoying thing is that Outpost Bendaton has (drat - HAD) a
marvellous chocolate Spock which Donald would've adored. I ended up
getting him a gnome. It's not a terribly good gnome but it's the thought
that counts.
Finally I bought some mince pies, a selection box and a six inch plastic
Christmas tree. It came prepacked with decorations so I don't need to mess
about with any of that nasty tinsel. I remember once, at school, being
trussed up and dangled upside down during the festive season and it was
all done with tinsel. I won't repeat where they found to hang the
b-a-l-l-s.
I was stood in the queue to pay for my goods but there was no one there to
take my money. I am Dennis Brent - I am not a man to be trifled with. I
took the initiative and made use of the convenient microphone on the
shopping assistant’s till.
"Excuse me" I boomed, my voice echoing around Bargainsave. "My name is
Dennis Brent and I wish to be served. Please send a prole to the till.
Thank you".
A small, harassed looking woman bounded over and took my basket from me.
Before I could pay for my purchases, I was bundled out of the store by
security. I stood outside the doors and shouted that I wanted my things.
The security guard threw the basket at me and it was only my speed in
dropping my head that prevented the basket striking me in the chest. I was
considering writing a strongly worded letter of protest when a man
approached me.
"My name is Roberts - I work for Bendaton FM. I heard you on the tannoy
and I think you have a very good voice Mr Brent."
I explained that I had perfected my vocal skills in my days at the
technical college - during our two acclaimed comedic revues. He suggested
I join him for a try out at the headquarters of Bendaton FM (which, I
learned, also serves the nearby villages of Shagford and Cymm). I think I
have really fallen on my feet here - no sooner does Outpost Bendaton fall
by the wayside than an even more exciting offer presents itself. My friend
Ian Devine may have handled the members of several "boy bands" but I am
going to be a genuine show business star <g>
7th December
I had an interview at Bendaton FM (or "Bendaton FM also covering the
villages of Shagford and Cymm" as I will have to get used to calling it
"on air" <g>). I have been offered the prestigious "drive time" slot of 3
to 5 pm and I am greatly looking forward to it. I have begun to draw up
programme ideas - I'm going to have a "fact of the day" slot where the
proles can listen to me telling them an interesting technical fact every
day. There will be a recipe slot where the proles can ring in and suggest
recipes that are suitable for the single gentleman (my diet is terribly
dull). I will provoke controversy by having a heated debate every day on a
subject of local interest - my first will be "Lichma Valley - beauty spot
or eye sore". I am going to be the greatest thing to happen to Bendaton
since they hired 'Midders in the Morning' (who has legally changed his
name to 'Midders in the Morning' I was appalled to learn). I might even
invite my friend the open minded vicar on for a religious spot. He'd put a
few cats amongst the dogmatic pigeons and no mistake.
8th December
Note - it is 3 to 5 AM not PM. This is an even better slot as people won't
be distracted by driving and will be able to give my programme their full
attention.
10th December
Midders in the Morning gave me some useful tips on the eve of my
broadcasting debut. He told me to be myself, to always look for the red
light, to avoid 'dead air' and never to play 'God Save the Queen' by the
S-e-x Pistols as a Bendaton bylaw made that song illegal in 1977. Anyone
caught playing it can, according to Midders in the Morning, be banished
from the village for a period of not-less-than a year. Midders in the
Morning is my new best friend.
I can hardly believe my luck. I've just received a telephone message from
Bendaton FM (also covering the villages of Shagford and Cymm) to let me
know that television actor (and the fifth Doctor Who) Peter Davison will
be my guest on my very first show. He is promoting his pantomime
entertainment at the Regal Theatre in Thrustyn-cum-Hardy. I will ask him
all manner of fascinating technical questions. I am so excited - it's like
Christmas must be to prole children.
11th December
My debut was going very well - my friend Midders in the Morning gave me
very good advice. I didn't play that record by the S-e-x Pistols, I didn't
leave any dead air and my telephone-in about parking in Humpers Court had
the phone lines boiling. Then Mr Davison arrived, looking rather dashing
for 4.41 in the morning. I started out asking him about his casting for
Doctor Who (paying particular attention to the exact times he quoted - I
picked him up on thirty seven factual errors and the angry look on his
face betrayed the frustration he had with his failing memory). Then,
suddenly, he took a bite of his apple and began to cough. His coughing
turned to chocking and I did the only thing I could.
"Let me through" I called, dashing over the desk and pushing a bystander
to one side.
"Do you know first aid?" asked the crumpled prole.
"First aid?" I said without thinking, "No no - if he dies, I want him for
my cryogenic unit"
The prole clearly didn't understand my long words and kept trying to
squeeze Mr Davison's body. This was no time for American style 'group
hugs'. Eventually some security arrived and bizarrely chose to bundle me
out of the studio. Some paramedics arrived and Mr Davison's dangerous
shard of apple was extracted. I saw my chance to get one over on my friend
Ian Devine slip away as the life returned to Mr Davison's lungs. Don't get
me wrong - I'm pleased he is still alive - but since everyone has to die
at some point, why couldn't he have the good fortune to join my cryogenic
collection?
Mr Roberts of Bendaton FM (etc) called me into his office.
"Dennis Brent" he began. "That was quite a debut."
"Thank you Mr Roberts" I replied.
"In fact, it was so successful I don't think we should even try to top it.
You have reached the pinnacle of your broadcasting career in record time."
"Thank you Mr Roberts" I replied with some pride.
"Good bye Dennis Brent" he said.
"See you tomorrow Mr Roberts" I replied.
"No Dennis Brent - goodbye."
There were two security guards waiting outside Mr Roberts' office and they
bundled me out of the building.
12th December
I feel hard done by over the radio station business - can you honestly
look at my actions and see cause for dismissal? Neither can I. I consulted
my solicitor immediately and told him I wanted to file a claim for unfair
dismissal. His eyes shone, pound signs flashing in a cartoon manner. I
explained exactly what happened. He made a quick phone call and his burly
junior bundled me out of the office.
Life is so unfair.
