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Radio Abel, Season Four

Part 1 of 6

[static]

ZOE CRICK: Go on, say it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] No, not this again.

ZOE CRICK: Come on, you know you want to.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No!

ZOE CRICK: You do!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No one's going to be listening anymore.

ZOE CRICK: Then where's the harm?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right, fine. Hello, citizens. Happy now?

ZOE CRICK: No. You didn't do it properly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, for goodness' sake. Uh, I'm going to bed, so just uh – [audio cuts off]

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, citizens. [whispers] Oh, come on, Phil. That was pathetic. [out loud] Hello, citizens. Hello, ci-ti-zens. Good morning, ci-ti-zens! [laughs, whispers] Yep. You've still got it.

ZOE CRICK: I feel like, you know, you have to keep your hand in, just in case.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Just in case what? There's some kind of emergency that requires specialist DJ assistance? A cat stuck in a tree that can only be talked down by radio hosts, or a fire that we can put out with one of our wry yet insightful intros?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, now you're making it sound silly.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It is silly. [sighs] I told Jack about it, you know. Guess what he said?

ZOE CRICK: [imitates JACK HOLDEN] "Uh, the first step is acknowledging that you're powerless over your desire to do silly intros for pop songs, that your life has become unmanageable."

PHIL CHEESEMAN: ... yeah, that's exactly what he said.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] He said the same to me. It's not like Jack to let a good joke go to waste. I don't care. I'm above your criticism. It just washes over me, like – like –

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] Like this next song. I don't know about you, but this one always sends me to sleep.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Yes! Exactly! Like this next song!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hello, ci-ti-zens.

ZOE CRICK: You know, if anyone's listening – and let's be honest, no one's listening – they're not really citizens anymore. I mean, they're probably British citizens, but they're not New Canton citizens.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, you were the one who wanted me to say it. I'm only saying it because it's your birthday.

ZOE CRICK: I know, and I appreciate it. I just think maybe you should start working on a new intro.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I don't need a new intro. This is a one-off.

ZOE CRICK: Of course. [laughs] Yeah, of course it's a one-off. It's a birthday present because you were too lazy to knit me the Minecraft jumper I asked for.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I can't knit.

ZOE CRICK: And you didn't make me that pottery water bowl with a tiny little kitten on it for Pushkin.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I can't do pottery either! What have I ever said that suggested I might know how to throw a pot?

ZOE CRICK: Mm, you told me you liked Ghost.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Watching it, not re-enacting it.

ZOE CRICK: Well, I know that now. So I very generously let you do this for me instead. So, Phil, what song are you going to play for us today?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Song, right. Uh, yeah, okay. This one's for you, Zoe, on your special day.

ZOE CRICK: I'm not entirely sure what it says about me that you think of that song on my birthday.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: It was a compliment.

ZOE CRICK: Hm, if you say so.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Mmhmm.

ZOE CRICK: ... We've forgotten how to do this, haven't we?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] I think the problem is nothing's happening. Well, uh, not nothing's happening, but they're ordinary things, not New Canton things.

ZOE CRICK: Weird things are still happening in New Canton, and it's – well, it's strange, right? Not being there for all that.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Mm. I don't know about you, but I'm glad I didn't have my mind controlled by an evil hippie.

ZOE CRICK: Well, yeah, obviously. But it's an experience. It's something they all went through together, and now they're going through getting over it together. And here we are, [laughs] helping Eugene try to break the record for the world's longest daisy chain, even though he doesn't know what the record is for the longest daisy chain. So presumably, we're just going to keep on adding more and more daisies to it until there literally aren't any more daisies in the world. [laughs] Do you see what I mean?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: About the daisies?

ZOE CRICK: No, about New Canton.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. I mean, yeah, I do. [sighs] But it's better here, isn't it?

ZOE CRICK: It's great here. It's just... sometimes, I miss things not being great. Like, knowing that things might not be great, and I could still cope. Well, anyway, here's a song for all the folks back home.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay, you win.

ZOE CRICK: What?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You win. You're right.

ZOE CRICK: I mean, yes, I usually am, but about what, specifically?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We can do this again, okay?

ZOE CRICK: I didn't say anything about doing it again. We were just chatting about New Canton. Two friends reminiscing about old times.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I know you, Zoe. You never just talk about anything. If you really want to do this, we can do this. Not every day, mind, but yeah. Now and again.

ZOE CRICK: Really?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. If it makes you happy. [sighs] Actually, I've been thinking. You know how they've got a woman here scanning the airwaves, listening out for distress signals?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah. They rescued that fishing trawler last week. It's amazing how sick you can get of tuna. Even Pushkin's started turning her nose up at it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. But their equipment's really high-end, and they've been picking up all sorts of stuff. There are transmissions from all over the country. People are just sending out messages, not even sure if anyone's listening. And I was thinking... we used to do call in shows, didn't we? So why can't we do that again? We can rebroadcast some of that stuff, make sure it gets heard.

ZOE CRICK: Philip Cheeseman, you sod.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What?

ZOE CRICK: [imitates PHIL CHEESEMAN] "If it makes you happy, Zoe." [PHIL CHEESEMAN snorts] "I'm only doing this for your birthday, Zoe." This isn't for me at all, it's for you!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm doing it for you.

ZOE CRICK: [laughs] Of course you are. And on the subject of shameless liars, here's a little tune for you.

ZOE CRICK: So if you could, would you?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: But it's not possible.

ZOE CRICK: So what?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So it's a stupid question.

ZOE CRICK: If you could spend a night of passion with Gillian Anderson, would you?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, obviously.

ZOE CRICK: Well, I hate to break it to you, Phil, but that's not possible either. Even if she hadn't gone gray in the first week after day zero.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Uh, she might have. I can be very charming.

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, of course she might. Just answer the question.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You first.

ZOE CRICK: Fine. Yes, of course I would. I mean, why wouldn't you?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Because it's weird.

ZOE CRICK: Weird is good. If something's weird, it means it's interesting. I'm still waiting...

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I need to think about it.

ZOE CRICK: Bloody hell, it's only a hypothetical question. I think we've already established I can't actually make you go through with it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Okay. Okay, I'll tell you after – oh! Oh, this is kind of weirdly appropriate. Have a listen to this, citizens, and we'll be right back.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Right. I've had a think, and I would.

ZOE CRICK: Really?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. Well, like you say, if you had the chance, why wouldn't you?

ZOE CRICK: So, if you could change your sex, just temporarily, you'd do it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's what I said.

ZOE CRICK: You know you'd have breasts, right? And before you say it, I promise you, no woman in history has ever been turned on by the sight of her own boobs.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Breasts are fine. That's part of the whole experience.

ZOE CRICK: And you'd have, well, you know, lady bathroom parts. A front bottom.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: "A front bottom"? Bloody hell, Zoe, how old are you? Seven? Anyway, you said you wanted to try out having a willy.

ZOE CRICK: Yeah. I want to know what it feels like to wee standing up.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's what you'd use your brand new willy for?

ZOE CRICK: Well, I'd use it for writing my name in the snow. Not that I can't already, but it would be nice to do it without all that awkward shuffling about.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's a charming mental image I've got right now, Zoe. Thanks, really.

ZOE CRICK: No, but seriously. I want to know all of it. Everything that's different about being in a male body.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah. Basically, it's all about sex, though, isn't it?

ZOE CRICK: Not all of our minds are in the gutter, Cheeseman.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, no, of course not. Oh, look. Here's a song that's also definitely not all about sex.

ZOE CRICK: Obviously, I'm curious about sex, too.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Obviously.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, like I'm the only one. You must have wondered what it feels like from the other end. All that stuff you can never really know, however much you talk to guys about it. Those intensely physical feelings. They're not the sort of things you can put into words, not really. Louise was saying -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Louise? Louise Bailey? Abel runner Louise?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: When were you talking to her?

ZOE CRICK: Yesterday.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Something happened?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, no, we were just chatting. What? Don't give me that look, like I don't know how often you call Nadia so the pair of you can geek out over your amazing new circuit breaker.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I just never knew you and Louise were that close. [gasps] Hang on, is that what the whole "ooh I wonder what it would be like to be a man for a day" stuff is about?

ZOE CRICK: Oh, don't be ridiculous. No! It's just, me and her were talking about the whole body swap thing, and then we were wondering what you'd say, so we took a bet on it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You had a bet on whether I'd want to try out being a woman?

ZOE CRICK: Yeah.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Who won?

ZOE CRICK: Me, of course! I know you, Cheeseman. You can't hide anything from me. [laughs] That's how I know you have to secretly wipe away a tear every time this next song comes on.

ZOE CRICK: I'm not saying cats are better than people, honestly.

JODY MARSH: You're just saying you like cats more than you like people.

ZOE CRICK: Well, you have to bear in mind the people I spend most of my time with.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Hey! I heard that!

ZOE CRICK: I know you heard it. And the reason I know, Phil, is that you're sitting right next to me.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You think I'm better than a cat, right, Jody?

JODY MARSH: Well, you're better than some cats. Owen found this ginger tom on a supply run, and now it sleeps on his head every night and sticks its tongue up his nose to wake him up. It's disgusting. But I think he secretly loves it. Bit like you and Zoe, now I think about it.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: There, for those of you who've just tuned in, insulting me right now is Jody Marsh, better known as Abel Township Runner Four. She's on the line with us to uh, talk about cats, apparently. I mean, I thought she was going to share the latest news from Abel, but so far, it's mostly just been cats.

JODY MARSH: And there'll be more cats right after this! ... That was right, wasn't it? That's how you're supposed to do it?

ZOE CRICK: You're a natural.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: So leaving the cats aside just for a second, how are things back in Abel?

JODY MARSH: Oh, you know. It wouldn't be Abel if the world wasn't ending every other week.

ZOE CRICK: Is the world ending?

JODY MARSH: There is that whole "zombie apocalpyse" thing still going on.

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, but is it ending more than that?

JODY MARSH: Ah, we'll cope. We always do. Anyway, Abel's boring. I live here. Tell me your news. How are the boys? I really miss hearing them every day.

ZOE CRICK: We don't.

JODY MARSH: That's a bit harsh, isn't – ah. I understand. Isn't the honeymoon supposed to be over by now?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: We keep hoping. It's not even a small house and I still have to wear ear plugs half the time.

ZOE CRICK: Although I think it's sort of sweet.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You said they sounded like two cats going at it.

JODY MARSH: That's why you thought it was sweet, isn't it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I like you, Marsh. You can come again.

ZOE CRICK: Ryan Gosling?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh yeah, obviously.

ZOE CRICK: Idris Elba?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah.

ZOE CRICK: So, turns out that there are enough men you'd go gay for that we may have to recategorize you as heteroflexible.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, you can talk, Miss Angelina Jolie, Lana Parilla, Amy Acker, Oprah Winfrey, Nigella Lawson, Archie Panjabi, and Jessica Rabbit.

ZOE CRICK: See? Everyone's got someone they'd switch sides for.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [laughs] Like I say, not anyone I know.

ZOE CRICK: You sure about that?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Yeah, I'm pretty sure.

ZOE CRICK: New Canton Runner Thirty-Seven?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're right. Totally would.

ZOE CRICK: Who wouldn't? The man's basically a sex god.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Mm. I've seen nuns giving him the eye.

ZOE CRICK: ... Uh, Phil? Did you mean for us to still be broadcasting?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What? No!

ZOE CRICK: Only we are. [laughs] We're definitely still broadcasting.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [sighs] All right, then, Runner Thirty-Seven. If you're listening, this one's for you.

ZOE CRICK: So what you're basically saying is that I'm boring.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No.

ZOE CRICK: You're saying people are sick of the sound of me.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No.

ZOE CRICK: They'd rather listen to literally anything other than my voice.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: That's not what I'm saying.

ZOE CRICK: Well, that's definitely what I'm getting from what you're saying.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You're impossible, Zoe. You know that?

ZOE CRICK: I try my best. [laughs] So we've really been picking up lots of cool stuff on long-range radio?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: You wouldn't believe some of the things we've been hearing.

ZOE CRICK: And we're just going to rebroadcast it? Isn't that, I don't know... unethical?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, they wouldn't be broadcasting if they didn't want to be heard. Probably. Actually, it's possible some of them don't know they're broadcasting. But anyway, I'm going to edit it all first.

ZOE CRICK: Oh, I see.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What? What do you see?

ZOE CRICK: You're going to "edit" it. Like all those producers of reality shows "edited" them to make everyone involved seem as stupid slash evil slash sex-crazed as possible.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I would never do that.

ZOE CRICK: So we'll basically be doing The Real Housewives of the Zombie Apocalypse. The Only Way Is Zombie Apocalypse.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I'm going to play some music now -

ZOE CRICK: No, wait! Made in the Zombie Apocalpyse. Zombie Apocalpyse Shore. [audio cuts off]

ZOE CRICK: Well, listeners, today's a big day. Phil's finished fannying around in the edit suite -

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I do not fanny!

ZOE CRICK: Phil's finished farting around in the edit suite, and we're ready to bring you our very first slice of life broadcast from complete strangers scattered all over the UK. We're calling it – actually, what are we calling it?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Well, I thought we could call it Zombie File. You know, like Country File.

ZOE CRICK: Yeah, no. We're not doing that. Anyway, first up are a couple of guys from – where are they from, Phil?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Oh, we don't really know. The signal's been bouncing all around the network. Could originate anywhere.

ZOE CRICK: But wherever it's located, it's a top secret, high-security government lab, and these are the lovable eccentrics who live and work there, and their messed up, madcap lives!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: Really?

ZOE CRICK: Come on, we've got to sell this. They'll be with you after this really quite appropriate song.

DOMHNALL: Homo sapiens sapiens zombiticus: a ghoulish caricature of modern man, ambling and perambulating, seemingly thoughtless, through the streets in search of raw flesh. Or, as my colleague calls it, "free-range Soylent Green".

It is only natural for humanity to focus our attentions on sapiens zombiticus. It is both that which hunts us, and that what we become. But recall: we continue to share this ravaged world with other species, and while in the past, animals have played agents to human contagion, this time, it is humanity who shares her plague.

Today's program is dedicated to examining what may be the world's first example of felis silvestris catus zombiticus: the domesticated cat with zombie mutation. Welcome to afterlife. Or Afterlife On Earth. I'm your host, Domhnall Barra. Felis silvestris -

[door opens]

BASIL: Good news! Henrietta's finally died. Right, it's ghastly, but she hasn't laid eggs in weeks. It wasn't me what killed her, so don't give me them eyes. She was an old bird, Don. I've plucked her and given the gizzards to the carnivores. We'll have a fine roast tonight! What are you doing? And why is that old machine blinking?

DOMHNALL: My friends, we are joined by my colleague, veterinary surgeon Doctor Basil Hibler, who may want to remove his butcher's gloves before he sits.

BASIL: Oh. [laughs] Right.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Hibler, what can you tell our listeners about felis silvestris catus zombiticus?

BASIL: Felis silvestris catus - ? Do you mean Pussy Galore?

DOMHNALL: No.

BASIL: So you mean Sergeant Scabies?

DOMHNALL: [laughs] No!

BASIL: Then surely, you must mean -

DOMHNALL: The zombie cat, Baz. The zombie cat. And would you cease with the lurid names?

BASIL: Why? You think they'll develop a complex? Wouldn't that be oxymoronic? Oh, hold up. I've yet to confirm it is a zombified feline rather than your average, everyday, mangy, arthritic tom cat.

DOMHNALL: Gentle listener, while there is no proof that the zombie contagion has become anthroponotic -

BASIL: Uh, hold on. "Gentle listeners"? Are you actually broadcasting? Do you really think there's someone out there listening to you drone on about a manky stray? Hey, you haven't told them where we are, have you? We have animals here, Don. Live animals and a roasting chicken.

DOMHNALL: Afterlife On Earth is broadcast from an unnamed research facility in an undisclosed location. Tune in next time, when we interview a monkey who communicates by tap dancing. This is Domhnall Barra, signing off. [audio clicks]

BASIL: So, I actually wanted to talk to you about -

DOMHNALL: Um, Baz, have you seen my field kit? I'm missing my swabs.

BASIL: I needed them for my ears. Listen, I saw that you only have one hormone injection left.

DOMHNALL: Maybe tomorrow we'll find those hazmat suits and do a proper check-up on zombie cat -

BASIL: It's not a – [sighs] What happens when you run out completely?

DOMHNALL: Well, I suppose I go the way of the clown anenomefish.

BASIL: Any luck in synthesizing more?

DOMHNALL: Baz, I... we're – we're still broadcasting.

DOMHNALL: Welcome to our second broadcast of Afterlife On Earth. While my cohost is off walking the donkey, I thought I'd introduce myself and expound on the purpose of this program.

Firstly, I am Doctor Domhnall Barra, a researcher working under legendary virologist, Doctor Solomon Leatherby, a pioneer in the field. Surely many of you would have heard of him. His book, Our Unseen World, debuted at #17 in the category of Popular Microbiology on Amazon.

At the moment, he is... unaccounted for, but we soldier on. Doctor Hibler and I do, that is. Due to uh, circumstances, uh, Basil and I are the only humans left in this facility. But we are not alone, for we have animal companions in abundance. Mice, birds, lizards, rabbits, goats, dogs, apes, snakes, sheep, foxes, turtles, wallabies, dogs - oh, pardon, I already said that - cats, ponies, a donkey, which, as I mentioned, Baz has taken for a walk. Not outside, of course. On a treadmill. We actually have three treadmills and a recumbent bike in Experiment Room 3. We had a Bowflex, but the monkeys broke it.

Because the majority of our denizens are non-humans, I thought it might be a nice diversion to introduce them to the world via this broadcast. Especially since, had the zombies not come, most would not have survived. They are a silver lining.

You must think, dear listeners, that in case of a zombie apocalypse, the welfare of our animals would deteriorate. I assure you, this is not the case. In addition to our state of the art animal environs, Doctor Hibler and I have also converted all the experiment facilities - save the labs and surgical areas - into social and recreational areas for the animals.

Every day, Baz and I tend to their needs – feeding, and watering, and cleaning pens or cages. In fact, they have much more space than we do, as we confine our activities to the office, the kitchen, and what we call the barracks – the communal area where we used to sleep when Doctor Leatherby whimsically locked down the facility and trapped us here against our wills! Always great fun...

You must be curious as to how we managed to survive, considering the underground nature of this facility. Well, our director was – is – notoriously distrustful of the government. And the military. And his peers. Civilization in general.

Thus, this facility was constructed as entirely self-reliant, off the grid. We have a private well, ventilation system, and generators fed by not only a solar panel farm, but also wind turbines, all positioned in the farmland above our undisclosed location.

At first, it was disconcerting, but now we're grateful Doctor Leatherby was so paranoid. The farmland, the car park, the dummy clinic, the Tesco's across the road -

BASIL: Well, they're all swarming with zoms. The armies of the undead live in our penthouse.

DOMHNALL: I just went overboard, didn't I?

BASIL: Probably shouldn't advertise that our rats live better than most people. Including us.

DOMHNALL: Oh, yes. Forgot about the rats. And fish, voles, and we have a sloth -

BASIL: Right. You need a distraction. I'm going to go fetch a monkey.

DOMHNALL: And monkeys. Oh, I already said that.

DOMHNALL: Welcome to Afterlife On Earth. I'm your host, Domhnall Barra, and with me is Doctor Basil Hibler.

BASIL: Hello, hello.

DOMHNALL: Doctor Hibler, what have you brought us today?

BASIL: Well, we were meant to be interviewing Melvin the tap dancing monkey today, but he's feeling a bit under the weather, so this is Roger! He's a vole. Say hello, Roger. ... Yeah, he's not much of a talker. Or a dancer. Now, his brother -

DOMHNALL: Doctor Hibler -

BASIL: Nah, call me Baz. Everyone does! Everyone being you, Don.

DOMHNALL: Um, but -

BASIL: Doesn't it all sound a bit stilted, you calling me Doctor Hibler all the time? Plus, it's inconsistent, isn't it? I mean, you're not Doctor Domhnall Vivian Barra.

DOMHNALL: [?] [both laugh] I am so sorry, I don't know what possessed me.

BASIL: Apparently, your great aunt Vivian.

DOMHNALL: Just tell our listeners about the vole, Baz.

BASIL: Well, as I said, his name is Roger. His mother's called Helen, and his father is either Samuel or Nigel Farage. Roger is a month old, and has 45 siblings.

DOMHNALL: 45? Incredible. How large is your average litter of voles?

BASIL: Usually about seven or eight.

DOMHNALL: How many were in – oh, he's a darling – little Roger's litter?

BASIL: 45.

DOMHNALL: Wait, what?

BASIL: Yeah. It was the first litter for this breeding pair, or threesome. I really don't know how Nigel Farage got in.

DOMHNALL: So this is a miracle of science!

BASIL: More like an affront against it. Like most, if not all, of the experiments that take place in this facility.

DOMHNALL: Oh, yes.

BASIL: It's been good, though, since some of them animals have been turning their noses up at rat meat, spoiled blighters. Especially the weasels, and the foxes, and that damn pug. But I think it's actually a cannibal. Not a man-eater, heavens no, but uh, it only eats other pugs.

DOMHNALL: Wait, so the voles -

BASIL: Are bred for food, yes. Actually, you ate Nigel Farage last week! ... I shouldn't have told you that, should I?

DOMHNALL: Baz, please don't make me eat Roger.

BASIL: Sorry, mate! It's all right. When the time comes, I'll eat Roger! You can eat his brother, Daryl. Or Hamish! Yeah, you can eat Hamish. Hamish is a right git, always nipping at me, and playing with his own droppings. He's just vile. You can't feel bad eating Hamish.

DOMHNALL: Please don't make me eat Hamish.

BASIL: See your point there. Right. So I'll stop telling you who you've ate. You look a touch green. Maybe a musical interlude?

BASIL: Here's something listeners might find interesting about voles: the majority of vole species are monogamous, and the pair raise the pups together. So someday, little Roger will meet a nice girl vole, and -

DOMHNALL: We'll eat her.

BASIL: Oh, stop it. May not be us. A third of the animals live on vole. It's called survival, Don. You smell that? That's, well – [sniffs] pan-mammalian wee. And what's the wee masking? Roasting Henrietta. I don't hear you kicking up a fuss about that. Oh, please don't kick up a fuss. I can't go back to being a veggie. I'd rather be a zombie.

DOMHNALL: Don't even, Baz. I'm sorry. I'll stop being so sensitive. Let's get back to the voles. You know, I recently discovered something fascinating about voles. Before the apocalypse, a geneticist studying the animals discovered how to switch on the monogamy gene in promiscuous species using a virus. A virus that alters appetite and personality at a genetic level! Doesn't that sound familiar, Baz?

BASIL: You think the Tories are trying to Stepford us all into domestic passivity with a virus, and instead turned us into ravenous zombies?

DOMHNALL: I was actually thinking bovine spongiform encephalopathy. You know – the cows changed personality, and we changed our appetite? Although prions aren't viral. But now that you mention it, your theory may have merit.

BASIL: Off with it, now.

DOMHNALL: Off with what?

BASIL: The tinfoil hat.

DOMHNALL: I may have to rethink the formatting of this program.

BASIL: How so?

DOMHNALL: Well, perhaps we should consider you more of a special segment rather than a cohost?

BASIL: Are you demoting me? Are you sacking me? You don't even pay me!

DOMHNALL: No, of course I'm not sacking you. It's just, well, we tangent a lot, don't you think?

BASIL: To be fair, I don't really know what the program's about, so I couldn't say.

DOMHNALL: Exactly my point, Baz. You're so busy being clever, you distract from the science.

BASIL: What science? Mate, you're interviewing a vole. It will hardly prove an adequate foil for your melodramatic monologues.

DOMHNALL: Come on, Baz. Don't get stroppy. I'm not saying it right. What I mean is that you distract me! It's all me! Actually, no. It's you. You do it on purpose.

BASIL: [laughs] Slander! I do no such thing. Now, before I storm off in a huff, I need to interrupt for a - [Roger squeaks] No, Roger, where are you going?

DOMHNALL: Roger, come back!

BASIL: Roger, don't go in there, it's suicide!

[predator roars, DOMHNALL and BASIL shudder]

BASIL: Well, I guess neither of us will be eating Roger.

BASIL: Poor old Roger.

DOMHNALL: I'm going to vomit.

BASIL: Yeah. While I don't think that's a zombie cat, I'm not dismissing the idea that there is something fundamentally wrong with it.

DOMHNALL: I'll get the hazmat suits.

BASIL: Tomorrow, Don. It's time for Sunday roast.

DOMHNALL: But... but Roger! And it's Wednesday.

BASIL: The cat had to eat, too, didn't he? It's almost feeding time anyway. If you're going to vomit, do it now. I don't want you chucking up my roast. I've slaved over that. Now do your bit, and say goodnight to your listener.

DOMHNALL: Fine. [clears throat] Predator and prey, cat and mouse – uh, vole. Once, they lived in our homes side by side, an uneasy truce built on the presupposition that, through human brokerage, neither would ever go hungry.

But in this world fraught with disease and hardship, where humans no longer serve pellets and tinned meals on a regular schedule, the charter between unlikely animal compatriots is rendered void. Join us tomorrow when we - hang on. Did you say "listener" as in the singular?

BASIL: Bye, folk!

DOMHNALL: Even for seasoned naturalists, there is always at least an iota of trepidation when doing fieldwork, even when the field is an inhumane cage of steel and concrete, and the subject may prove be an ordinary housecat. But of course, it may not.

Today on our program, Doctor Basil Hibler and I will conduct a comprehensive assessment of our alleged catus zombiticus, risking life and soul to collect the samples necessary to test for zombification. Gentle listeners, this is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your host, Domhnall Barra.

BASIL: Is all this really necessary? I mean, yeah, we'll use the pole. The cat's basically feral and absolutely barking, sometimes literally. But hazmat suits? Bit excessive, isn't it?

DOMHNALL: Doctor Hibler, as we all know, the contagion is transmitted via saliva.

BASIL: I know you want the cat to be a mutant, Don, but I don't think it's a zom cat. But cheer up! It's probably still a mutant, considering this place. Oh, speaking of. You know Gordon, the albino calf? He's growing a third horn out of his forehead like a bloody unicorn. You should do a show on him.

DOMHNALL: In due time. But, for now, we must conduct our inquiry in the spirit of science!

BASIL: Oh, bless. Look at you, positively swimming in that suit.

DOMHNALL: Baz, open the enclosure. Unto the breach!

BASIL: Like a greyhound in the slips. Here we go!

[both yell, audio cuts off]

BASIL: Got you! You're a right git, cat. In you go. You all right, Don?

DOMHNALL: Baz, he got me! The zombie moggie got me!

BASIL: Don't be so dramatic. Let's have a look. Take off the damn suit. Blimey.

DOMHNALL: I knew it! I'm infected, aren't I? I can feel my cold, sluggish, zombifying blood oozing down my back!

BASIL: That's uh, my hand. So just a scratch. Didn't even break the skin. Did a number on that suit, though. Your moggie needs his nails cut. Hers, rather. Look at that - your inquiry's already yielded results. Turns out the cat's female. With a temper like that, we should call her Maggie.

DOMHNALL: Maggie the cat? Like, on a hot tin roof?

BASIL: Like Margaret Thatcher. Margaret Cat-cher? Because she's a cat, and I catched her? Yes? No? No, you're right, this is just terrible. Don?

DOMHNALL: Yes?

BASIL: Where'd your clothes get to, mate?

DOMHNALL: It's protocol to wear these suits sans civilian clothing, which may contain, um, contaminates, uh, and uh...

BASIL: Doctor Leatherby told you that, did he?

DOMHNALL: Yes.

BASIL: Yeah. He was having a laugh. And of course, we remember he's a perv, don't we?

DOMHNALL: Indeed. Am I bleeding now?

BASIL: Sorry. That's still my hand. Where's the syringe got to? Aha! I'll just take this and the litter box to the lab, but I'm fairly certain Maggie's not a zom.

DOMHNALL: The science will tell us if she's a zombie. But I'll tell you, she's not a Maggie!

BASIL: Hello? This is uh, Life On... no, wait. What's the program called again? Oi, Don, what's the uh -

DOMHNALL: Afterlife On Earth!

BASIL: Right. This is Afterlife On Earth, and I am your guest host, Basil Hibler. You could call me Baz if this were a call-in show, which I don't believe it is, because we haven't any telephone service since we live in a dystopian mockery of our previous lives.

So, Domhnall Barra is conducting his tests in the lab, trying to conclude whether or not Macavity the mangy cat is, in fact, a catus zombiticus. In the meantime, I have with me today Caprice. She is a Nigerian dwarf goat. A dwarf goat with two heads!

Just having a laugh, listener. She actually has six legs. The front two are more like arms. Think T. rex arms with hooves, as though she's some sort of goat centaur. But not a faun or a satyr, because they actually stand upright.

Anyway, Caprice is a lovely gal. She, uh... well, she just weed on my trainer, but she didn't mean nothing by it! And now she's eating my jumper. Bad Caprice! We don't eat jumpers. Very naughty!

Anyway, Nigerian dwarf goats are fabulous creatures. Their milk has high fat content, thus more nutritious. Very useful in a zombie apocalypse. Oh, and uh -

[metal clatters]

DOMHNALL: I'm all right! It was just – ow! Damn it! Something bit me. I spoke too soon. There's a slight chance I have bubonic plague. Baz, where's the streptomycin?

BASIL: Pardon me, listener. Won't be a moment.

DOMHNALL: Also, you may need to catch a plague flea.

BASIL: And we're back with Afterbirth On Life. Wait, that's not right.

DOMHNALL: Afterlife On Earth!

BASIL: Afterlife On Earth. Yes. Cheers! So the centrifuge is fixed, and the zom cat samples are whirling as we speak. My cohost, Domhnall Barra, has been treated with broad spectrum antibiotics and put to bed. A bed we will probably burn when he recovers. Afraid one of the weasels caught and ate the plague flea, so we had to euthanize the poor thing.

And while I was gone, a certain six-legged goat ate part of our Rofflenet connection, so I'm supposed to tell all you Rofflers that Ghost Shrimp 5 – wait, why 5? Was Ghost Shrimp and Ghost Shrimp 1-4 taken? - anyway, asked to say that Ghost Shrimp 5 is not dead, he's just resting.

Bloody hell, Caprice! That is not grass, that is my arm hair! Yes, I know, it's bushy and luxurious. I eat a diet high in omega-3s. Omega-3 and Vitamin E. And my great grandmother was a [?]. Ow! I can't believe you did it again. The cheek! Back in your pen, then, you old goat. I always wanted to say that. Never thought I would say it to an actual goat. Tune in next time to see if we survive the bubonic plague.

DOMHNALL: On this special edition of Afterlife On Earth, [clears throat] we journey back in time, back to a simpler age when real zombies were circumscribed to voodoo rituals, and the zombie horde was merely a symbol of mindless compliance, or consumerism, or postmodern, uh...

BASIL: Take it easy, Don. You're too weak for grave, sweeping speeches. Remember, you have the plague. Speaking of, when was the last time that centrifuge was properly serviced? Also, why the hell do we have a farm of plague insects?

DOMHNALL: I believe Doctor Leatherby maintained the equipment himself. Doctor Leatherby is also the answer to your second question.

BASIL: Ah, yes, Doctor Leatherby. Mad scientist, sadist, and the man who gave us employment at this nightmarish facility. Now that, Don, is what you call a segue!

DOMHNALL: Didn't he used to ride on of those? A green and yellow one?

BASIL: Yes, he did. [DOMHNALL laughs] Damn, I'm clever.

DOMHNALL: I believe you mean humble.

BASIL: I see you're still a touch boggled from unleashing and incubating a deadly plague.

DOMHNALL: I feel great. Give us a kiss, Baz.

BASIL: Well, I have been rather lonely.

DOMHNALL: Really? I didn't realize you felt that way. You know you can talk to me about anything.

BASIL: It's called banter, Typhoid Barry.

DOMHNALL: Thanks, Baz.

BASIL: What? I just turned you down. You should be devastated. I'm a real catch, you know.

DOMHNALL: I know.

BASIL: Plague, Don. For goodness' sake.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: I think that's really sweet.

ZOE CRICK: It's sad.

PHIL CHEESEMAN: What? Actual human emotion?

ZOE CRICK: No, their inability to get their crap together and do something about the fact that they fancy each other rotten!

PHIL CHEESEMAN: [laughs] Well, what do you want them to do? And remember, we're a family show.

ZOE CRICK: This is a radical suggestion, but maybe Baz could tell Domnhall how he so painfully, clearly feels?

PHIL CHEESEMAN: No, that's a terrible idea. What if Domhnall rejects him?

ZOE CRICK: Hmm. Suddenly, your entire relationship history makes so much more sense.

#zombies run #zrs4 #s4 radio #s4 radio part 1 #zr transcript

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