Sitcom. Depressed rock star Rob Strange arrives as an inmate at Wakeley. Fletch is tasked with keeping an eye on him, but events take an unexpected turn.
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Nigel Norman Fletcher, you have been found guilty of the charges
brought against you, and it is now my duty to pass sentence.
Cyber-crime is a modern menace.
A man of your obvious ingenuity and intelligence
might have used his gifts on behalf of society.
Instead, you chose to employ them in a pursuit of self-indulgence,
greed, and gain.
You will now face the consequences, and go to prison for five years.
How you all doing out there? Or should I say, "In there"?
This is National Prison Radio, made by prisoners for prisoners.
Later on, we'll be looking forward to all the weekend's sport,
but first, this from you know who.
We should have our own radio station. You know, Radio Wakeley.
I could do that. I could be the DJ.
You have got the banter, Fletch.
Gift of the gab, that's for sure.
I reckon I'd be good at it. Play some good music,
tell a few jokes, I could even do interviews,
-I could do you, Joe.
-Why would you want to interview me?
Britain's oldest prisoner.
No, I'm not. There's an axe murderer in Durham who's 86.
86! How long's he been in?
Two years?! What, so he topped someone at 84?
Well, it was manslaughter rather than murder, so he'll be out
when he's 110.
See, this is what I'm talking about.
Scintillating anecdotes from a man who's seen it all.
Well, reluctant as I am to leave this pointless conversation,
I'm late for work.
-Why's it pointless?
-Because Meekie's not going to
want to hear you gabbing off every morning.
He's got a point there, Fletch. Hard to swing that one.
It's worth a try.
I could do weather! Weather and traffic!
Clockwise congestion in the showers?
I have got a bit of congestion, as it goes.
Welcome to Wakeley. By the time you've got that lot off,
you'll be halfway through your sentence.
Yeah. Well, I get them back, right?
I mean, there's some good memories there.
Oh, yeah, don't worry, it'll all be locked away nice and safe.
Like me, then, eh?
Oh, no, no. I said your stuff will be nice and safe.
I can't promise that you will be.
Lot of nutters in here.
I'm only joking.
Good news, though - you're early, so the showers might still be warm.
They're through there.
Chin up, it'll fly by.
Ms Driscoll, turn that up, it's a tune!
It's loud enough.
-Don't you like this music, Ms Driscoll?
What's your sort of thing, then? I bet it's all Michael Buble
and magnolia candles round your house, innit?
What goes on in my house is my business, Fletcher.
Just making small talk.
If you must know, I'm a big fan of Take That.
Oh, yeah? Who's your favourite?
Gary? Robbie? Little Mark?
Howard?! That's just wrong!
I'm a big fan of Jason Orange myself.
That geezer's got some serious moves!
Shel! Shel! Shel!
What on earth is going on here?!
This is a place of work, not a discotheque.
It's Fletcher, sir. He's playing up.
Oh, why does that not surprise me?
Charge of insubordination is not going to look good on your record,
is it, Fletcher?
Turn that racket off, Driscoll.
Why'd you do that, Mr Meekie? That's a mad groove. Keeps us happy.
Being happy's important, Mr Meekie.
If we're happy, we're chill, if we're chill, we're mellow,
and if we're mellow, we don't cause no bother.
No. If you're focused, you're efficient,
if you're efficient, you're productive,
-and if you're productive, you're...
What did you say?
I said, "Yes, sir".
Music is therapeutic, beneficial, and increases productivity.
According to who?
The University of Omsk. Or was it Tomsk?
-I can't remember.
-What a load of tosh.
No, I read it. So did Shel. We all did.
-I couldn't put it down.
Melodious sounds encourage the release of dopamine
in the reward centre of the brain.
You're not here to be rewarded! You're here to be punished.
Yeah, society must extract its petty revenge.
Yes, indeed. Speaking of which, come with me, Fletcher.
-Come with you where?
-The Governor wants to see you.
Does she want some company for lunch?
You are one very small step away from going on report, laddie.
Now, apologise to Officer Driscoll for creating a disturbance.
Sorry, Ms Driscoll.
Whatever I said, whatever I did...
-He didn't mean it.
We have a new arrival who's causing us some concern.
We have his medical report from where he was being held on remand,
and he appears to be in some distress.
-That's not surprising.
-What do you mean?
Well, it's not exactly Center Parcs in here, is it?
This prisoner is suffering from depression.
There may even be suicidal tendencies.
What do you want from me?
We'd like you to be a listener.
-We want you to connect with him.
Get to know him and monitor his situation.
You want me to be a snitch?
-Not at all.
-Yes, you do.
I become his friend, listen to what he's got to say, then I tell you -
-that's a snitch. That's grassing someone up.
-I did express a concern
that Fletcher wasn't exactly suitable for this assignment, Ma'am.
I think he's highly suitable.
Fletcher's one of the brightest people in here.
Apart from that Oxford don who poisoned his mother-in-law.
We wouldn't want you in any way to betray confidences.
Just watch for warning signs in his behaviour.
-We'd have to move you into his cell, of course.
-I don't know about that.
Being locked up all night with a suicidal maniac?
He's not a maniac, he's a depressive.
Oh, that's all right, then. Be a laugh a minute.
There is another factor you should be aware of -
he's well known in certain areas.
What areas? Snowdonia? New Forest? Hampstead Heath?
Professionally. Some of the other inmates may recognise him.
Off the telly, is he? Please say it's Piers Morgan!
For God's sake, he's a rock star. His name is Rob Strange.
Rob Strange? The lead singer with Dirty Curtsy?
-Whoever they are.
-I'll do what I can.
Mind you, there is an unwritten rule inside, relating to us and them.
-Quid pro quo. Tit for tat.
Meaning, what's in it for me?
Let's just say I would not be ungrateful.
In that case, I'd like to start up our own radio station.
Radio Wakeley. I just need a spot to set up some gear,
and I'll be the resident DJ.
Anything to get out of making lobster pots, is that it?
Well, I couldn't do both, Mr Meekie.
I might be prepared to consider that.
-All right, I'll do what I can.
-Thank you. You can go.
When I get my radio show up and running,
I want to do a sort of Desert Island Discs thing.
You can be my first guest, Mr Meekie, so start making a list,
but remember, you can only have one Justin Bieber record.
They give all the new blokes a mop and a bucket.
I suppose they think it eases you in. I'm Fletch. Got a name?
Just a number in here.
Yeah, still got to assert your identity, though, ain't you?
That's why we've all got tattoos and haircuts.
Got enough tats.
And you used to have a lot more hair, too, didn't you?
I know who you are, Rob.
I remember when you used to look like this.
Another lifetime, man.
Yeah. I saw you play at the O2.
I went with my ex. It's a special memory for me.
Birthday or something, was it?
The night before I got nicked.
Yeah, that was a one-off charity gig, you know.
And the band sort of split up after that.
But I also swizzled the drummer's old lady.
What, his wife?
No, his mum.
So what happened when the band split up?
Oh, I was all over the place, you know.
I didn't have a reason to get up in the morning.
Weren't you dating Miss Finland?
That would have got me up in the morning.
And probably again after a bacon sandwich.
I went on a six month bender. I was really caning it.
I got into crystal meth, and then I ended up cooking it.
-Where was this?
There's a crystal meth lab in Chipping Norton?!
Who were you working for the Stow-on-the-Wold cartel?
No, no, I wasn't supplying, it was just a bit of personal, you know?
Years ago, I bought this massive gaff in the country,
and I was cooking crystal meth in the shed at the bottom
of the garden.
-In a shed?
-Yeah, and one night, I had this terrible accident.
The whole thing, you know, it just sort of, like, blew up.
And the shed ended up in the graveyard, OK,
and it demolished three headstones,
and killed a cat.
Killed a cat! That's a year on your stretch right there.
-Heavy trip, man, being sent down.
-Don't worry, Rob.
I think they're putting you in a cell with me,
so we can see it through together.
You don't want to hang out with me, Fletch. I'll just drag you down.
Could be worse, mate.
You could be one of Coldplay.
-What are you doing?
I've been tasked from above.
They're putting me in a cell with this bloke, Rob.
I've got to report what he says and how he behaves.
Oh, you're a snitch.
No! Shh! I'm a listener.
Yeah, that's a snitch. Lowest of the low.
No, this is different. He's got suicidal tendencies.
-I might save his life.
-Rob, did you say? I processed him.
He's a Hell's Angel or something, isn't he?
-No, he's a rock star, which makes me the friend of a rock star.
-He's in a big rock band called Dirty Curtsy.
-Never heard of them.
Well, that's hardly surprising, Joe. What was the last record you bought?
Da Ya Think I'm Sexy? Rod Stewart.
And were you sexy in those days?
Well, Deirdre Ennersly thought so.
-All right, I have to ask...
-Oh, she were lovely.
The bell rang, I opened the door and there she stood, like a vision,
in overalls and a tool belt.
I said, "Who are you?"
She said, "I'm Deirdre, and I've come to convert you to natural gas".
Well, you dream of Deirdre while I'm gone.
And it's only temporary - I'll be back.
Oh, don't rush back on my account.
It's a luxury having a cell to yourself.
I might keep to the bottom bunk, though,
cos if I go up top, I might never get down again.
I won't be missed, then?
It'll be nice to live in a fart-free zone for a change.
All right, Rob?
Yeah, yeah. You know the ropes, Fletch - am I up or down?
Down. We don't want you leaping off the top bunk, do we?
-What are you doing?!
-Those pills, where did you get them?
Have you found a dealer already?
I got them off the MO. They're my anti-depressants.
Oh. Sorry. I thought they were laxatives.
You know, two blokes, one loo, small cell - not a good idea!
Probably a bit smaller than what you're used to.
Yeah. I went to a Buddhist retreat once. It was either that or rehab.
I lived in this monastic cell. It was smaller than this one.
-Where was that, Katmandu?
Well, hopefully that experience will get you through this.
Feel free to "Om" any time you want.
They won't give me a hard time in here, Fletch, will they?
You know, because I'm famous.
You're a rock star, Rob. That's legendary status right there.
Might have been a different situation if you'd won the Bake-Off.
-I'll bet you've got some good stories.
-I've got a few, yeah.
You know, I'm going to get this radio station up and running,
and when I do, you can be me first guest.
-Oh, what would I talk about?
-I don't know.
The surprising sonic sensibilities of Metallica's last album?
Or just how about how many birds you've had in a hot tub.
No, no, it was six, actually,
cos one of them wasn't "technically" a woman.
You all right, Rob?
-I can't sleep
because you keep asking me if I'm all right every ten minutes.
Sorry, mate. I know how it is, first night inside.
Desperate. If you need to talk, I'm a good listener.
When I say, "I'm a good listener,"
I don't mean I'm a listener who tells other people.
I mean that I don't mind listening, you know, for myself.
Yeah, whatever. I could kill for a smoke.
I think I've got some gum somewhere.
There was a reason I had my meltdown when I did, Fletch.
In the shed in Chippy?
Something really heavy happened after that last gig.
This girl called Astrid comes backstage afterwards.
Swedish, she's about 22.
She's studying Archaeology in the UK.
I can imagine for myself, Rob. Gorgeous girl in your dressing room,
glass of bubbly, plate of chicken wings. Who can blame you?
She said I was her dad.
No, no, go back to chicken wings!
Yeah, well, I thought she was trying it on,
so I got security to haul her arse out of there.
And then I looked at my old diaries, and I realised who her mum was.
I was only with her about three months.
So she really was your daughter?
Yeah. And I blanked her out.
And now it's doing my head in.
Don't beat yourself up, Rob. You can still find her.
There are ways. Let me have a think about it.
How did you end up in here?
I was a hacker. Top drawer. Had it away for a while.
Then I went on a binge with this girl, Davina.
She was gorgeous. Quite posh and all.
Went to the same school as Kate Middleton.
-Oh, expensive tastes?
I was ripping off credit cards to pay for her lifestyle.
Course, she dumped me the day I got done.
Took off with some Argentinian geezer who plays for Man City.
Lives in a mansion now.
His and hers Ferraris, a helipad, and a wood-fired pizza oven.
And he don't even play for the first team.
I hate Man City.
-Who's your team, then?
Oh! I can see why you need those pills.
As the newest member of the group, Rob,
is there anything you'd like to say?
I miss hair.
He used to have a lot of it. Tell her why you cut it off.
I just wanted to get rid of the old Rob Strange and find a new identity.
If I had your talent, I'd parlay my pain into music.
Write songs about it. That's what's the blues is all about -
freight trains, cotton fields, pain, misery.
FLETCHER IMITATES BLUES RIFF
# I woke up this morning...#
FLETCHER IMITATES BLUES RIFF
They all start like that, don't they?
FLETCHER IMITATES BLUES RIFF
# I woke up this morning, I missed the bus...#
FLETCHER IMITATES BLUES RIFF
-# I woke up this morning...#
It'd be a blessing if I didn't wake up one morning.
Listen, mate, Irish is right. Write about sad stuff.
Of course, no-one minted more out of misery than Morrissey.
He turned a whole generation into manic depressives.
-No point. It's all been said.
-No, it hasn't, Rob.
Your music spoke to the disenfranchised,
the disillusioned, and the downtrodden.
-How do you know?
-I had all his records at uni.
And I saw him live. Seven times.
Seven times? I thought you looked familiar.
THEY CHEER LADDISHLY
Can you sign my arm, please?
It's not for me.
-How are you finding him?
-It's a tricky one, Doc.
He's a nice bloke, but he's got a lot of baggage.
Another victim of too much too soon, much like myself.
Would it help if he worked alongside you?
Oh, no. Too much varnish in the workshop.
-A couple of glugs,
And I wouldn't let him have any bleach when he's mopping floors.
Yeah, good point. Are you finding it a strain, Fletcher?
I can't pretend it isn't a lot of stress.
Like walking on eggshells.
The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of that DJ gig
I was promised.
You weren't promised, Fletcher, and there are no guarantees.
All I will say is that the Governor is not ungrateful.
Let me ask you something -
did you have a little poster of him up on your bedroom wall?
A lock of his hair in a little box?
-A tattoo of his name on your...?
-None of your business.
And I had it removed when I got engaged.
Visiting day today. Got anyone in?
Your drummer? I thought you swizzled his mum?
Yeah, well, I wasn't the only one.
Have you got anyone coming in?
-Yeah, my ex.
No, Karen, the one I dumped for Davina.
I've got horrible feeling she's come to give me a piece of her mind.
That's a nice washbag.
Now, before you start, I'd just like to say...
Well, you've obviously come here cos you've got the hump.
-I haven't got the hump.
On the contrary, it's very good to see you.
Oh, I see. You've come to gloat have you?
Yeah, I have.
-Can we just be civil?
Is the food nice?
-Right, I'm done.
-Oh, no, I'm only just getting started,
-I hate it when you call me Nigel.
You, Nigel, are an unfeeling, insensitive, chauvinistic pig.
-You devastated me.
And I'm sorry.
I was selfish and I was stupid, and I'm sorry.
See that bloke over there?
Not the one with the ponytail, the one sitting opposite him.
The one who looks like a bald Rob Strange?
That IS Rob Strange.
And he's paranoid about losing his barnet.
Well, they've put me in a cell with him. Got to know him a bit.
Now, he really has lost everything. House, wife, money.
I used to love Rob Strange.
Such a shame to see him like this.
You know what? You could do me a favour.
Him, do HIM a favour, not me.
-How is he?
He's still alive.
No small feat when you consider how easy it is to get a weapon in here.
How is his general demeanour?
Well, he's in prison, so he's been better.
-I have an idea that might accelerate his recovery.
Transfer him to the hospital wing, and put me in the bed next to him.
-Nice try, Fletcher.
-I'm just putting it out there.
I know you'd never forgive yourself if anything happened to him.
Stop trying to manipulate everything to your own advantage.
Nothing much else to do in here.
I need to ask you a...favour.
Is it one that I can manipulate to me own advantage?
Oh, for God's sake, man!
I want you to ask Prisoner Strange to autograph these.
Rock fan, Mr Meekie! Who knew?
Do I look like a rock fan?
I despise the music, the lyrics are offensive,
the ones you can understand.
Maybe you should ask him yourself. You've got a way with words.
-Perhaps not. Best wishes to...?
It's the name of my wife.
Ah. Big fan, is she?
In her youth, yes.
-Did she ever see them live?
-I gather she saw them a few times.
-Did she ever go backstage?
-I know where you're going with this!
-I seem to be doing everyone favours these days.
-Hope this'll be noted on my record.
-The Governor will not be ungrateful.
And if you get those signed, neither will I.
ATTEMPTED SCOTTISH ACCENT: The Governor will not be ungrateful.
I think they're my favourite words in the English language.
Right up there with, "Mr Fletcher, we're upgrading you to first class".
Mine would be "Not guilty, Lotterby, case dismissed".
That's a good one, yeah. Or how about, "This is the concierge.
"Miss Scarlett Johansson would like to see you in the suite".
-Scarlett Johansson. She...
Oh, don't worry, it's a sexual thing, Joe.
You're a bit out of touch with that since Deirdre from the Gas Board.
That's where you're wrong. There was conjugal visits in me last nick.
I've had it off a lot more recent than you think.
Yeah? How recent?
July the 27th.
You're listening to radio made by prisoners for prisoners.
The M25 is gridlocked, the pound's sinking,
there's a Tube strike tomorrow.
Trust me, lads - you're better off inside.
Thanks for doing this, Karen, I'm really grateful.
Oh, I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for Rob.
Well, maybe this can start the process of healing between us.
Easy to talk about healing when you're not the one who was wounded.
You're not the one who had a stake through your heart
with your entrails bleeding on the floor...
All right, keep it light. Look, I said I'm sorry, and I meant it.
Do you want me to come again?
Well, I just think that seeing me
seems to remind you of so much hurt and betrayal, you know?
I just think it's so much better - for your sake, not for mine -
that we make some space between us.
You're probably right.
Well, I mean, if that's your decision, then
I guess I'll just have to live with it.
Oh, er, I got you this.
I don't like white chocolate.
I know. Bye, Nigel.
Visiting time's over. Prisoners, return to their cell blocks.
Do you think somebody's gone over the wall?
-In the middle of the afternoon?
It's your rock star mate. He's on the roof.
Stay exactly where you are, Strange!
Excuse me, Governor. Fletcher here thinks he can help.
-Well, you've hardly helped so far.
You were supposed to be monitoring his condition, Fletcher.
I did, Doc. But something's triggered this.
Let me go up there and talk to him.
Governor, the only person qualified to negotiate in this situation
-is Dr Marsden.
-Unfortunately, I can't.
I haven't completed my safe working at heights training.
Don't do anything you'll regret later!
He won't regret anything if he jumps.
He'll be splattered all over the concrete. Let me go up there.
-I've got some info that might make a difference.
It's between him and me, Gov. Trust me, I can do this.
Governor, I must protest in the strongest possible terms.
This is a total breach of prison protocol.
You're right, Meekie. It's far too dangerous up there.
It's wet, slippery, you could fall to your death.
On second thoughts, let's give Fletcher a chance.
-What are you doing here?
I didn't realise you were up here. I was looking for someone else.
Don't leave me, Fletch!
It's all right, I'm here.
Nice view, innit?
On a clear day, you can almost see the glue factory.
Stop making jokes, Fletch. I can't stand this.
Can we have this conversation somewhere else?
Don't come any closer. My mind's made up.
I can't hack feeling like this.
Even if I do my stretch, what's waiting for me when I get out?
-Well, there's your daughter.
-What you talking about?
-I got my ex to trace her.
They've made contact on Facebook, and they've spoken on the phone.
She wants to see you, Rob.
You're not having me on, are you, Fletch?
I swear to God. Now, can we go downstairs?
It's fish pie tonight. Best meal of the week,
if you don't eat the fish. Come on.
-Help me! Rob!
-I can't, it's too dangerous!
-I might fall to my death!
-Rob, please! Take my hand!
Whatever you do, don't look down!
FLETCHER GRUNTS AND MOANS
Oh, you! Oh!
Did you slip?
I'd like to thank you, Fletcher, on behalf of myself and all the staff.
What's going to happen to him?
He's in hospital, and his daughter's already arranged to visit.
I'm recommending that he's transferred to an open prison.
Good idea. Much more amenable to recovery, that.
I should go with him. We can take tennis lessons together.
That's not going to happen,
but I am aware that we owe you a debt of gratitude.
Well, if you remember, I had a thought about that.
You did indeed.
It's good to have you safely back down in one piece, Fletcher.
-Isn't it, Mr Meekie?
Wakey, wakey, this is Radio Wakeley, with me, Fletch!
This is The Breakfast Show, you'll be waking up with me every morning.
No, not like that!
Today, we're saying goodbye to our mate, Rob Strange.
He's off to an open prison. Good luck, Rob.
He's left some signed CDs
for those of you who didn't get a chance to shake his hand in person.
To win yourself one, you've just got to answer this one question -
how many times did Mr Meekie's wife go backstage with Rob and his band?
Was it A, five times, B, six times,
or C, 13 times?
While you think about that, here's Status Quo...
SCOTTISH ACCENT: ..with Doon, Doon, Deeper And Doon.
An intriguing new inmate arrives at Wakeley, in the form of depressed rock star Rob Strange. Fletch is tasked with keeping an eye on him, but events take an unexpected turn.