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Wash sighed and guided Serenity in to land on the planet. “I am a leaf on the wind,” he muttered as the atmosphere buffeted the spacecraft. Mal threw a look at Zoe: “We ready for this job?” Zoe nodded: “We are. Jayne is locked and loaded in the cargo bay with the cargo, and Badger’s at the rendezvous point waiting for the goods.” Mal sighed: “Let’s make it quick. There have been recent sightings of Reavers in this solar system and we don’t want to be stuck on the surface if t

Lee threw down his car keys in protest. “I am not going out to a blinking pantomime with Toby and Anna,” he said. Lucy sighed: “It’s for the kids! And Anna’s just started managing the theatre so she needs all the support she can get.” Lee humphed: “Well she won’t be winning hearts and minds with a charm offensive! She missed those lessons at Mrs Snooty’s Academy for Battleaxes…” Anna, who had just walked in the open back door with Toby, stared at Lee. He said: “And that’s wha

Alex fumed: “Adam! Why on earth did you agree to stage a pantomime on top of everything else? “I hardly ever see you as it is! Now, we’ll have every pushy stage parent in Hackney trying to get their little darling a speaking part and every unemployed actor in London will be turning up for auditions to keep their hand in, telling you how you don’t direct them well.” Adam sighed: “The church needs the funds for our outreach programme with the homeless. St Saviour’s in the Marsh

Dave looked up from wiping a glass at the bar of the Winchester club. “What’s all that about, Tel?” he asked, nodding over to Arthur Daley in deep conversation with a man in a dog collar. Terry McCann chuckled: “Arthur thinks he can make a few quid by offering to host the church pantomime at the Winchester. He’s offering the club free with 25 per cent of the ticket sales going into the Winchester’s ‘community fund’ to help the less fortunate. “The church gets 75 per cent towa

Martin tutted and looked at the map of the Christmas market stalls. “It’s all higgledy piggledy, Ann. There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it! A handmade wooden gifts stall next to a raclette stall selling smelly cheese, a local artist selling paintings next to a stall with handmade hats…” He sighed. “The food should be in one section, handicrafts in another, fine art in another. That would allow us to make the most of our time here.” Ann smiled her patient smile. “I like the

Mother’s voice boomed across the Christmas market… “Timothy!” He flinched and looked around in embarrassment. “Can’t take her anywhere!” he said to the German sausage seller, completing his purchase. Mother waved him over to a stall selling Belgian chocolates. “These are the ones I want to open on Christmas morning,” she said, loudly. Timothy laughed awkwardly. “Tell your father. He’s over there getting quietly sozzled on mulled wine.” Timothy asked: “Gluhwein?” Mother replie

Mark looked at Dobby as she examined wooden Nutcracker soldier figures on the Christmas market stall. “Haven’t you already got two of those? Isn’t that enough?” he asked. Dobby turned and shrugged: “They’re gold and green. This one is red and gold, which goes better with the tree this year.” Mark sighed. Yes, buy another one. Buy them all. Another Nutcracker figure to add to the family of Nutcracker figures in our flat. Fill the entire sitting room with Nutcracker figures sta

The manager smiled weakly at Wednesday and said: “Miss Addams, we don’t believe your talents are best suited to the customer service function of the running of Highland Park Stately Home. “Your work experience period has seen one bride run screaming from her wedding reception after finding pirhanas in the punch, a coach party of international fencers leaving after 24 hours following a match with you, and reports of strange scuttling noises coming from your room.” Wednesday sh

Fred sighed and glared at Shaggy. “We’ve been hired by the town council to run this haunted English stately home for Halloween so we don’t have time to take the Mystery Machine into town to buy more Scooby snacks,” he explained wearily. “Why don’t you boys go off to the kitchen and make one of your enormous sandwiches instead?” Scooby said excitedly shouted: “Rooby rooby doo!” They padded out of the room and left Fred with the mountain of paperwork. “Food safety certificate f

Gordon Thorpe’s head was in his hands as he sat at his table in the hospital cafeteria. “I can’t believe all the steps we need to take to get up to speed for this health and safety review,” he muttered to himself. The hospital administrator had sent him a sheaf of papers showing everything that needed attention, from fire safety and oxygen cylinder storage safety to the imminent implementation of Martyn’s Law to help combat terrorism. Gordon sighed loudly. “Penny for ‘em,” sa

The door to the Chief Executive’s office flew open and Harriet Schulenburg fell into the room clutching a large bag. She tottered to the chair and sat down, dropping the bag on the floor. A small xylophone and a chewed dog bone fell out. She pushed them back in quickly, muttering: “Blinking grandchildren…” She opened her laptop and the Teams call tone started buzzing. She sighed and clicked on the accept call button. Sue White appeared on screen. “Morning, Harriet, do I loo

Dr Kilmore sighed as he viewed the mountain of paperwork on his desk. He smiled weakly at Nurse Clarke. “Running a hospital is 75% admin,” he said. “Getting to see patients is a rare treat these days. Most of my cases have gone to Dr Tinkle…” Nurse Clarke rolled her eyes: “At least he’s no longer in charge, and Matron has retired. They were obsessed with everyone’s private lives! Keep him busy, I say…” She handed Dr Kilmore another document: “More paperwork for your pile. It’

The credits rolled as This Time with Alan Partridge came to an end. Alan pulled off his microphone and shouted: “Lynn! Lynn! Lynn!” Lynn came out of the wings and said: “Yes, Alan?” He smiled: “Another amazing show! That Belfast woman with her pet axolotl was televisual gold!” Lynn smiled nervously: “As long as she finds it safe and well behind the sofa. You did drop it from quite a height, Alan.” He shrugged: “What’s on the agenda tomorrow?” Lynn looked at her tablet: “Well,

Abbey Grove School headteacher Mr Fraser took a long look at the two groups of teenagers lined up in the yard. “Alfie Wickers, Will Schuester. Mr Schuester, Mr Wickers,” he said, making an introduction. “Hi!” Will said, offering his hand for a handshake. Alfie grabbed it awkwardly and shook it. “Hello,” he said. The pupils of Abbey Grove and McKinley High glared at each other. “It’s wonderful that you’re stopping off at Abbey Grove on your UK exchange visit,” Alfie added. Wil

Tony Mammoth stepped out of his Ford Capri, took off his aviator sunglasses, and looked at the school’s main reception door. His head of department Lucy was waiting just outside. “Are we getting overtime for this?” he asked as he waked into the building. “I should be soaking up the sun in Benidorm. I spent decades frozen in a block of ice in the alps after that avalanche, so I deserve it. I should be in a costa enjoying a pitcher of sangria and a Frederick Forsyth paperback.

Steven Toast glared at his agent. “I’ve had acting jobs on both sides of the Atlantic and you expect me to open a carnival in Devon! Is there nothing else for me? What about that Star Wars thing?” he snapped. Brooke Hooberman steeled herself as she took a drink from her whisky glass, then replied: “Went to Alan Tudyk.” Toast grunted: “He gets all the robots! Why can’t you get me a robot?” Brooke sighed: “Look, Toast, just do this one thing for me and I’ll put you up for a rog

Terry Medford took off his Panama hat and sat down at the garden table while his wife June poured tea. “It’s fantastic news, isn’t it June?” She smiled weakly and nodded: “Yes, dear. Marvellous.” Terry went on: “Imagine, the next Royal Horticultural Society flower show in Purley! Think of all the benefits it’ll bring to the borough, and how wonderful it will be for residents like us…” June sighed: “Yes, dear, but it’s going to entail a lot of work to establish a new major flo

Sandra looked out over the beach at the waves and the horizon. Beryl licked her ice cream cone and sat down on a bench. “It’s hardly Torremolinos, is it?” Beryl complained. “Oh, Beryl, there’s a whole world out there that isn’t Torremolinos…” Beryl snorted: “Nice, Cannes, Rio de Janeiro…Rhyl…” She waved her hands around: “The last time we were here Edward Heath was Prime Minister. They got a new Sun Centre but the rain hasn’t changed much.” Sandra adjusted her rain hat: “It’s

Al couldn’t believe his eyes. “Dad, why do you have a fish stapled to your beanie hat?” he asked. Bert grinned: “Not just a fish, my lad, a Cornish sardine…” Al shrugged: “Why do you have a Cornish sardine stapled to your hat?” Bert replied: “Tourists, thousands of ‘em…” Al shrugged again: “Nope, still gave no idea. How will putting sardines on your hat attract thousands of tourists to Portwenn?” Bert tapped his nose: “Not real sardines. Pictures of ‘em to spread the word abo

Emily looked at the run-down amusement arcade and seaside entertainment centre, and sighed. “How can Dad have lumbered me with this? It’s a nightmare…,” she said to a disinterested seagull perched on a nearby railing. “It needs so much work. A new sign, to start with. It’s Sandylands arcade after all, not Sandylads. That missing ‘n’! “Then, there are all the rules and regulations I’ll need to know about to get it up and running again. I’ll bet Dad wasn’t up to speed on the la