Speaker 1: Hello listeners, and welcome back to Underwood and Flinch. This
month's episode is a bit late, as you probably noticed.
Sorry about that. I've been on holiday. It was my
first holiday in eight years. We went to Wales and
we took the dolls with us. It was their first
time out of Ireland, so they had their little pet passports,
you know, and I'm sure it was very exciting for
them as it was for us. We all had a
very nice time. We went to Tenbye. I don't know
if you've ever been to Tenby, but there's lots of
lovely country walks and National Trust countryside to explore cliffs, beaches,
you know, all that sort of thing. And as I say,
we had a smashing time. And now I'm back home
and well rested and up to my eyes in the
second Underwood and Flinch TV project. I'll tell you more
about that at the end of the show. But first
of all, I have some use for you if you
are someone who has ever thought about supporting Underwood and
Flinch at Patreon. Patreon recently updated how billing works for
new members, and the good news is it's now easier
and arguably fairer than ever before. Here's what's changed before
If you signed up near the end of the month, like,
for example, on the twenty seventh of the month, you'd
still get charged again just a few days later on
the first of the next month, which you know that's
not ideal, is it. So I always used to advise
you to wait until the start of the month before
you signed up, But now Patreon uses a true subscription model,
just like Netflix or Spotify, So when you sign up,
you are charged that day, and then you're charged again
exactly one month later on the same day the next month,
and so on, so you always get a full month
of access no matter what day of the months you join.
You could join today and that would be your monthly
billing date going forward. I think it's really cool, so
do I. So I don't know, maybe you'd like to join.
By becoming a patron, you gain immediate access to the
rest of season six and season seven, and the twenty
episodes so far of season eight with no ads, and
wait forward the old theme music too, at least until
recent episodes, when, of course I had to change it
there as I have had to change it here. And
that's it. Pitch over. So now let's dive back into
our story and rewind to the recap from the original
Patreon episode. This episode you're listening to now is not
the one that you were perhaps expecting. It's not the
one I said I would be doing at the end
of episode fifty five. So we're not in this episode
going to be following on the scene in underground apartment.
Sorry about that, but stay calm, you know it will
be with you soon. No, this is instead a short
cutaway scene that takes us back to Inspector Claire Redmond
because we have to know what Claire did next before
we can move on, for reasons that will ultimately become
clear to you. So what happened last time we saw Claire, Well,
you may remember that she shot Miguel's through the head
and then again in the heart, killing him stone dead.
Remember that she also shot Anna Mackay, who was working
in cahoots with Miguel and Claire. Also took a phone
call from Coleridge to Mackay, in which he seemed pleased
to learn if Claire's suppose a death and told Mackay,
although unbeknownst to him he was actually talking to Claire,
that he needed to call the backup he had posted
outside to come and lend support to him at Surrey Street,
where he claims to have tracked down an immortal, that is,
a a vampire og down by the name of Lord
Daniel Underwood. And I'm sure you remember that. So that done,
then let's shimmer out of the wall paper pattern and
once more enter the world of Underwood and Flinch. Season
six in Tennebress. Written and performed for podcast by Mike Bennett.
This podcast is intended for an adult audience listener discretion
as advised. Episode eleven, Claire Edmond was pulling on the
clothes she had discarded when she had gone to bed.
She wasn't thinking about appearances, nor about Coleridge, nor the
bodies of Mackay or the dead vampire she was having
to step around as she got dressed. Her only focus
was on getting out of there before the police arrived.
Neighbors awoken by the first gunshot had perhaps not realized
what it was, but the shouting and subsequent gunfire emanating
from her flat would have cleared up any doubts. Multiple
ninety ninety nine calls would have been made and cars
would be on their way. They wouldn't need sirens at
this time of night, their journey fast and unobstructed. If
those first responders caught her here, she would never be
able to get away, and that was something she absolutely
had to do. She wasn't concerned with the backup that
Coleridge had posted outside the officers he had referred to
as Hallaman Crook. When he thought he was talking to
Mackay on the phone. He had said he was pulling
them away to back him up at Surrey Street, so
she knew she had a clear run out the front
door to her car and she would be running. That
realization made her pause in the act of automatically pulling
on her shoes to kick them off, and instead reach
under her bed for her running shoes. As she finished
tying her laces, she noticed her father's ring on its
neck chain on the bedside table. Normally she would have
put it on upon rising. She picked it up now
and looked at the symbol engraved on it. Until yesterday,
she had had no idea what it represented, The malleus
the O c U that brought unwonted thoughts of Coleridge,
her father's partner. Had he betrayed her father as he
had done her in her mind, she was suddenly a
frightened child again. On the night Coleridge and his men
had come to take her father away, she saw her
father again, stopping at the door, turning back to her. Claire,
it was real, he had said, there is no book
they're coming, Claire, No book, no fearictional horror story he
was pretending to write when she had asked him about
the souvenirs, the evidence she had found hidden in his wardrobe.
Those things were real. Coleridge had taken him away to
a mental hospital, where a week later he was found
dead of a heart attack. Or so she had always
been led to believe. Dad had always been fit and healthy. Yes,
he had always been a smoker and a drinker, and
that was what she had always had to make sense of.
How he could have died that way? But if Coleridge
had been working for this vampire as far back as then,
if he had locked her father up and then had
him murdered drugs, a pillow over the face, who was
the medical examiner who performed the autopsy? Had there even
been an autopsy? The sound of a car door slamming
outside broke into her thoughts. Her bedroom faced out onto
the street, and she always slept with the window open.
A crack, another door slammed, and another. She didn't need
to go to the window to check who it was
they were here, turning out the light might alert them
faster as to where to go, assuming her door number
hadn't been reported to them already, So keeping low, she
made for the door. On her way, she was about
to pick up the guns she had dropped that Coleridge
had given her, but then instead she went for McKay's.
Claire had fired three shots from Coleridge's gun, but mackay
had not fired her weapon. It should still have a
full clip. She picked it up. It was the standard
issue Glock twenty six. She popped the magazine and checked
the back, where numbered holes indicated all seventeen bullets were present.
She snapped the magazine back into place, then moved swiftly
through the flat to the front door and opened it
without hesitation. On emerging into the hall, she saw one
of her neighbour's doors opened to the length of its
security chain and a frightened face peering out. On seeing Claire,
the man's fear turned to relief. She had seen him
hundreds of times but they had never exchanged anything more
cordial than her loes. He slipped the chain and put
his head out. His short hair was pillow ruffled, and
he was wearing only a T shirt and boxers. Are
you all right, he asked, eyes wide and trying to
see past her into her flat. I'm fine, I'm a
police officer. Go back inside. But there were shots, gunshots.
I thought you were being murdered or something. A sarcastic
thanks for your help went through her mind, but she
kept it to herself. His helping would probably only have
resulted in his death. Maybe hers too. Just stay inside, okay,
other police officers be here. In a moment, she left
her flat, leaving the front door open. If she didn't,
she knew it would be bashed in by entering police.
Where are you going, asked the neighbor as she trotted
past him, securing the area there could be others, but
that she heard his door shut abruptly behind her, followed
by the sound of his security chain rattling back into place.
Now that she was unobserved, clear ran for the exit
to the fire escape at the back of the building.
The glass door had a sign over it saying it
was for emergency use only. There was no handle, only
a crash bar. She looked out through the window into
the night and over the residence car park. There were
no lights in the car park, which is why she
usually parked on the street. Access to it was via
a private lane that ran parallel to the street around
the back of this and neighboring buildings. It merged onto
the street about two hundred meters away. The police wouldn't
have known about it. Then. From the entrance doorway four
floors below, the sound of the admittance buzzer echoed up
the stairwell. Someone had let them in. Claire pushed down
the crash bar, stepped out under the fire escape, and
shut the door behind her. She quickly hurried down the
stairs and ran into the car park, heading straight for
the solid darkness of the lane. Getting to her car
was now out of the question. There would be too
many police out front, and some of them might recognize her,
especially since she had recently appeared on national television from
the sight of the skip murder. Instead, she would make
her way down the street and then call a taxi.
Suddenly she stopped. There was a taxi in the car park.
It wasn't like any taxi she had seen locally. She
moved closer. In the faint light from the many now
illuminated but curtained windows, she saw it was turquoise and white,
and on the door was a logo for the city
of Brighton and Hove. The driver was inside, his chin
slumped down onto his collar bone and apparently asleep. She
opened the back door and got inside. When she shut
the door, the driver, Miguel's guardian, Johnny, awoke with a
start and turned back to her. Oh you worry you,
Claire showed him her badge police officer. I need you
to take me to Surrey Street in the strand. Oh no,
Lo lo Love. Sorry, but I'm not for hire. She
will have to get out. Did you hear me? I'm
a fucking police officer. Why don't go if you're stasky,
you Uchlove, I'm not for aire. His manner was nonchalant,
clearly untroubled by her urgency. Claire was astonished. Look, you
can either drive me to Surrey Street. I'll comeandeer this
car and drive myself. Oh no, you can't do that.
I've waited for some one. See I can't leave. You
can leave and that's exactly what you're going to do. Nahda,
you're not listed to be darled? O can'd I? I
have to wait for rib who the master Miguel? Claire froze.
Now it made sense, the man's indifference to her urgency,
his easy disregard for her authority. He was fascinated. Either
Colerad John mackay could have told Miguel about access to
the car park, and this guy was his driver. Claire
calmly drew her gun and pointed it at his face.
Get out, Oh can't I have to wait for a vampire?
Johnny's puzzlement was only momentary. Yeah, wait, you know him, DON'TA.
He's dead. I just killed him. Nah, I can't be.
I blew his brains out and shot him in the heart.
Trust me, he's dead. Now get out. No, Now, he
was troubled. He was painfully confused. Oh, oh, can't leave,
he said, I have to wait specific instructions, Claire thought,
was he following them verbatim or did he have any
leeway to think for himself? What you are the car?
Johnny looked as though she had asked the question in
a foreign language. Do what you are the car? Did?
He specify, ugh dah, that I did well. Then obviously
it's you he wants, isn't it. She got out and
opened his door, Come on, get out. He didn't move,
so she grabbed him by the shirt and pulled, keeping
her gun trained on him. As he slowly hefted his
bulk out of the driver's seat, she saw the dark
stains around the neck and chest of his bright ho
football jersey. There were no conspicuous bite marks on his neck,
but then neither had there been on hers when she
was bitten by a lydia. Oh I, oh, why Jesus, Look,
you can't sack my car. It's my livelihood, disses. Don't worry,
you'll get it back. Claire got into the car and
fired the ignition wed he asked as she reversed away.
Claire didn't reply. She threw the car into a three
point turn and drove out of the car park and
into the lane. Johnny watched as his car drove away
into the darkness, turned the corner and was gone. He
remained on the spot, watching till the glow from the
headlights had faded to nothing, then turned to look up
at the building through the windows of the fire escape,
he noticed police in flack jackets running back and forth.
One of them came to a door on the fourth floor,
opened it and shone a power full flashlight at him.
On police, you, what are you doing? Squinting? Johnny raised
a hand to shield his eyes against the light. Waited,
stay there, Johnny had no problem with that. Oh, cruel fate, listeners,
such a short episode after so long a wait. That
was the original complete episode as it appeared on Patreon.
But what kind of a monster would I be if
I let this podcast end here? No, my friends, you've
waited too long. I'm going to add the next episode
of Patreon's Underwooden Flinch Underground to this podcast, making it
a double episode right after this ad break and welcome back.
So this next episode at Patreon is Underwooden Flinch Underground
episode fifty seven, and it follows on from our previous
podcast that is season six, episode ten. Here's the recap.
Was the one where Underwood, David and Elizabeth Daventry basically
broke into Rose's subterranean apartment next to Oldwitch Station. Now,
you may recall that that episode ended with the cliffhanger
ending of Underwood hearing the Lift arrive and Rose emerge
and call out his name. So yes, this episode follows
on from there, but not just there. It also follows
on from episode forty five, well, which was quite a
while ago, unless you're binge listening, of course, in which
case it was probably fairly recent. But still for the
benefit of those who aren't binge listening, that was the
episode where Rose trying to teach Damo how to turn
into a bat. You may recall that they had a
kind of a pizza and wine evening with the women
from the pantry before packing them off to bed and
then going up to the roof of the building where
Rose turned into a bat, hoisted Demo up into the
air and deposited him on the BT Tower or the
Post Office Tower as it used to be called and
still is by old geezers like me, which is it's
a tall building in London. It looks like a giant
sonic screwdriver. And that's where we left Demo and Rose
last time, with Demo plunging from the top of the
tower as a human and then through necessity, turning into
a bat. What happened next? Wow, This having turned into
a bat following his plunge from the telecom tower. Deimo
joined Rose in the skies over London. Language being impossible,
he could only follow her and attempt to copy the
various maneuvers she showed him, diving, swooping, gliding on air currents,
and landing, the last of which they did on a
small island in a lake in Regent's Park. The island
had plentiful tree and shrub cover, and upon landing, Rose
returned to her human form, while Damo, unsure how to,
remained a very large and ungainly bat, lying on the
grass with his wings spread out about him as he
flopped and crawled on his belly, making strange noises in
place of speech. Rose laughed at him. I'm sorry, Damien,
but even after oli these years, I still don't speak bat.
You will have to become human again. Daimo flapped and
gave a high pitched shriek, which would Rose felt sure
have translated into something vulgar in English. I hang about.
It won't help you, my dear, transformation is all into mind.
Daimo made an unpleasant noise in his throat, probably another vulgarism. Okay,
some simple exercises. The trick is to inhabit your human form,
mentally visualize it, feel it in your mind. See your
human arm, your hand opening and closing. Clench your fists
so you feel your fingernails as they press into your palm.
Touch your face, your nose and mouth, your closed eyes,
towsle your hair, pull on your ears. She watched as
the bat closed its eyes and lay still, hopefully imagining
as instructed rather than falling asleep. After about thirty seconds,
with no result, Rose began to wonder, well, do you
feel a change? Daimo opened his bat's eyes, looked at her,
and shook his head. She threw up her hands, ach
what to do? What to do? Ah? I know, why
don't you do that thing that boys do so well?
Forget touching your face, touch yourself, you know what I mean?
She looked to him for a sign of understanding. His large,
glistening black eyes blinked, signifying nothing this. She made a
quick gesture mimicking male masturbation. Thats can't masturbate, so if
you arouse yourself, the frustration will probably force Ah, here
he comes. Demo's bat form was now consumed by a
mist of its own making. Rose smiled and applauded as
the mist then began to coalesce into a human shape,
and then a moment later, dam O'Sullivan was back. He
lay on his stomach, arms and legs spread out on
the grass, and, like Rose, was as naked as the
day he was born. Why back, he cried, Fuck me roast.
That was incredible. He leaped to his feet, touching and
feeling his limbs, squeezing them as if to make sure
they were whole and not just outward appearances. Then, convinced
of his own corporeality, he looked at Rose and laughed,
ha ha, I was a fucking bat. We were bats.
We flew, We were over the fucking city like a
like a pair of bats. Ah, Rose, that was amazing,
the most awesome thing I've ever known. He grabbed her
by the shoulders, pulled her to him, and planted a
kiss firmly on her lips, breaking off with a loud mah.
You're a fucking legend, girl, Rose laughed. I did nothing, Damien.
You did it all by yourself, including the change back
to human form. Yeah, he laughed. Not unlike the tide
of a five knuckle shoffer the focus to mine, They
hopefully you won't have to do that every time. H
One night I might come back with a boner. I'm
sure you won't. It takes a little practice, but once
you understands the process, it becomes second nature. Second nature. Yeah,
is that all right? Literally? Like first human nature and
then second bat Oh fuck me. He shook his head
in astonishment. It's just incredible. Then he looked around. Where
are we anyway? Northwest's Island in Regent's Park Lake. It's
lovely here at night, like your own private island or
park for that matter. It is closed now so no
one can see us. Sometimes I bring prey here. She smiled.
You can't take your time. She slipped her arms around
his waist and kissed him. He returned the kiss, but
as he felt himself beginning to stiffen against her, he
broke off. Hey, wait, should we go to Underwood's house
to check it out? Like, see if he's there? I mean,
that's why we came out, and isn't it Huh? It was?
But she hugged him tighter. Plans change. It's late. Some
morning can't be far away. We have time only for
one activity. Sit with our bare bat bottoms on the
cold roof, watching windows for signs of a bastard or
She traced a fingernail up the length of his spine,
and he shuddered with pleasure something far more enjoyable. Daimo grinned,
ohky sher fucke it. We didn't want to see him anyway. Later,
after landing on the roof at Surrey Street, Demo changed
from bat back to human without even needing to think
of grappling with himself. Rose retrieved the raincoat, light cotton
dress and boots she had taken off before leaving. Despite
having shoved them under the overhang of a low wall,
they were damp from an earlier shower of She cursed
and shook them out, before pulling the dress and raincoat
back on. As she dressed, Demo paced around, hugging himself
and rubbing his upper arms against the early morning chill.
Don't go tooonez the edge, said Rose. You don't want
anyone to see you up here. There's no one around,
replied Damo, not even a milkman. God, remember them the
flow going round first thing in the morning, all the
bottles clinking in the crates, and the home of them
little electric engines they used to have wh I had
a MAIDH was a milkman in the eighties. They used
to see him at all during the week because you
have to get up so early, but he used to
make up for on Saturday night. I can tell you.
Oh yeah, I remember them well. I had my fair
share of milkmen over the years. Daimo raised his eyebrows.
Oh yeah, she smiled. I mean I had them for breakfast,
that's all. She zipped up her boots, stood and started
for the door of the ventilation she after that contained
the elevator. Noil, I'm guessing you didn't kill them. People
would have missed their milkmen pretty quick if their daily
points didn't show up. Of course, and precisely for this reason,
Demo followed her, mindful of where he stepped for fear
of slipping in his bare feet. Jeez, I wish I
listened to you earlier when you said about taking the
clothes off before we left. I could do with him now,
even if they wear a monkey. Oh, don't worry. You
can use something off underwoods for now, and then tomorrow
night we will go out to a late opening department
store and get you something new. Yeah, but I don't
have any money, but you will soon. You can rob
whoever we feed on tomorrow night. Maybe we will catch
a young banker who has had a few drinks too many.
That will cover the cost of a whole new wardrobe.
They went into the room at the top of the
ventilation shaft, and in passing Rose kicked a large box
next to the door. You can leave your new things
in here next time we go flying from the roof.
Normally I leave my clothes in there as a precaution
against the rain, but tonight you distracted me. She opened
the box. Inside was a pair of flip flops and
the crumpled summer dress. Oh, I keep mean to strolls
this dress out, but see sandals I out onto the roof.
It does not matter if they get wet. Demo pulled
the dress out. It had originally been a shade of
sky blue and was decorated with a pattern of tiny
white flowers, though much of it was now stained with
black mold. He shook it out and wood lies tumbled
from the folds of the fabric. He held it up
against himself. That's not so bad all if neezs a wash.
He pulled it over his head and wriggled into it.
What are you doing, Rose asked in horror. Demo straightened
the dress over his body, then beamed at her. How
do I look? How can you wear this thing? It
is filthy, it's warm, more than nothing. Anyway, we're going downstairs.
We could just chock it in the washing machine and
then I'll be back in action. Her initial disgust softened
to amusement. It's too tight on you. Yeah, but tight
dresses are sexy, not on men. And now, Rose, that's
just sexist. She laughed and stepped close to him, and
he felt her hand sliding up his inner thigh. Hey,
he slapped at her arm and squirmed away from her.
Oh you like it, you little fitchin Yeah, whatever the
fuck that is? Daimo bent to take the flip flops
from the box. It is German for tot. She smacked
his bottom. All right, that's enough of that, missus. Hey.
He dropped the flip flops to the floor and stepped
into them. Can I bring these down too? Say? How
too small for you? You'll break your neck? And no,
I've been wearing flip flops that are too small or
too big for me. My whole life comes up being
a middle sibling, you know, Rose smiled, cupped his cheek
and kissed him. Then take them, come on, flitchin. I
don't know about you, but I am starving. We pay
one more visit to the pantry girls before bed. Yah.
If you don't think they'll mind with you in that outfit,
as they won't mind, as they will love it. She
opened the door to the elevator and stopped. Suddenly serious,
she sniffed. What's the matter, said Daimo. She stepped into
the elevator and followed her nose to the control panel,
where she sniffed at the buttons. What is it you smell? Nothing? Sure,
I do. I smell a lot of things. It's the
ventilation shafts for an underground station. But what do you smell? Underwood? Underwood?
Rose nodded. I haven't smelled this cent for decades, but
I have never forgotten it. She moved away from the controls,
continuing to sniff. The lift cage was open to the
air in the shaft, but she detected other familiar sense.
Damo stepped into the lift and sniffed at the panel.
Oh yeah, I can smell it now, you recognize it? No,
she nodded. This is because you have not been around
him as a vampire, only as a human. But look here,
she pointed to a spot in the cage wall, and
then another, and here also what huss us human? Here
a trace of feminine skin cream, and here a man,
and from both I smell fear. Demo sniffed the places
where earlier David and Elizabeth Daventry had respectively clung to
the cage while descending in the dark. As Demo sniffed
the area, Rose and identified as bearing male scent unclear,
images began to flicker in his mind, like a TV
from the nineteen sixties, tuning into a signal and then clear.
He saw David Flinch, breathless and sweaty in the tunnel
off Hoburn's station. Hey, fuck me, I know the scent
of the fella. It's David David Flinch. Rose nodded, Ah,
so I told you he would be working with Underwood.
Now do you believe me? Well, yeah, undeniably, they're working
together now. But when I saw him in the tunnel earlier,
he told me Underwood was dead. He told Jesus, and
you believed him. But this is because you do not
know Underwood and flinch as I do. If this Flinch
is anything like his father, lying will come as easily
to him as breathing or killing come. We need to
catch them in whatever it is they are doing. Why
you think they're up to something? Of course they are
up to something. Rose through the scissor gate, closed, selected
the same floor button as Underwood had done earlier, and
the lift began to descend. If Underwood wanted to make
some some amends with me, he wouldn't have just let
himself into my home uninvited. He would have used his lawyers,
hid behind them, had them come calling to explore the
possibilities of whatever it is he wants. But no, he
is here with his dog Flinch. This means they are
up to something. Daimo said nothing. He didn't doubt David's
sincerity when they had spoken earlier, but when it came
to Underwood's motives, he thought it wise to defer to Rose.
The lift settled to a stop. Rose drew back the
scissor gate and opened the outer door. A carpet of
rats awaited her, parting before her feet. As she stepped
out of the lift to stand in the hallway, she
turned her head to the right to look down into
the flat, ignoring the excited squeals of the vermin at
her feet. Without turning back, she said quietly, he is here,
Caesar room ahead. The doors are open. That's nice, said Damo,
cringing at the sight of the rat. But you think
you could tell your pets to like clear off. Rose
ignored the request and called out Daniel. Daimo wanted to
step outside the lift and join her, but the thought
of standing bare legged and flip flopped amidst such a
bristling thickness of rats with their tiny feet, claws and
tails scampering and slithering over his flesh was just too repulsive. Instead,
he retreated to the back of the lift. Daniel, Rose shouted,
I know you are here. You'd think I leave the
lights on. You have humans with you, Flinch and the woman.
There's no point hiding. Haven't you been hiding long enough?
For a moment, there was only the continuous sigh of
the jostling furry bodies at her feet, But then Underwood
walked out through the doors of his sitting room and
turned to face her from the other end of the hall,
Hella Rosamond. At first, Rose could only look at him.
His face and stature were completely unchanged. He was exactly
as he had been almost seventy years ago. Though she
knew well from seeing her own constant image in the mirror,
age did not wither their kind. But now, for the
first time, she found herself almost wishing it did. It
would have made more sense to see him bent and frail,
his hair ghostly and fine, over the skin of a
liver spotted scalp, and barely able to stand without the
help of a stick or walking frame. Yet here he
stood as did she, unbowed and unblemished by time, as
if only a day or two had passed since they
last met. The rats, perhaps sensing her mood, fell silent
and turned their eyes to underw Then quietly Rose said,
you look well. He smiled, as do you. I understand
that you have been in Spain asleep. Yes, that's right,
Rose nodded. I see, And when were you going to
to let me know that you were alive? Underwood gave
the merest shrug. I I don't know, if I'm honest.
I wanted to, but he lowered his gaze. Things were strange,
you know, after the war. No, I don't tell me.
What was so strange that you couldn't even send me
a telegram saying you were okay? Sixty eight years I
have been worrying about you, not knowing for sure whether
you were dead or alive, And for so much of
this time you were what swelling about in New York, Paris,
Buenos Aires, living your playboy lifestyle without the baggage of
a wife to tie you down. No, Rose, that wasn't
it at all? Oh? I think it was. Isn't that
what you do, what you've always done. Our marriage was
just an interlude, wasn't it?
Speaker 2: All your marriages are for you, just a break in
what probably gets to be the monotony of being a
rayqal or whatever you English boys call it.
Speaker 1: Every couple of decades or so, you settle down for
a while, plays a role as a husband, until that,
too becomes a bore. And then what find an exit?
An excuse for you? And I? It was the war,
the perfect get out of jail free card. Off you
go to do your bit. But you know, since finding
out you were alive, I have wandered for how long
you actually did your bit? How long were you actually
in the fight? Daniel? Six months? A year. When did
the war also become a big bore for you? Did
you even go to the fight or did you just
go straight to Spain to sit the whole thing out,
sucking on the bloodied tits of young senoritas. I went
to war rows, I was in it for the duration. Well,
good for you, she snapped. So you went missing in
action right at the end. Yeah, I was told it
was sooner than that. But your lawyers, master eyes, have
been confused or lying on your behalf. Oh wait, you
did go missing in action, didn't you, even though you
were in it for the duration? Well not exactly, and no,
just no, I think all right then, No, I didn't.
That was a lie. Aha, he admits it. Rose turned
to Daimo, where he stood at the back of the lift.
You heard him say that, didn't you. I wasn't just
imagining it. Yeah I heard it, Demo spoke quietly, reluctant
to be dragged into the argument, but Rose had other ideas.
With her arm extended toward him, she turned back to Underwood.
Oh you know, Damien, I believe, she beckoned to Daimo
to join her. Come, Damien, say her lord as a
great lord, liar still reluctant to go near the rats,
which seemed to be constantly growing in number. Demo stopped
short of where they clustered outside the lift door and
leaned his head out. He nodded to Underward, Hey, how's
it gone. He noticed more rats skulking around in the
shadows at the far end of the hall behind Underwood,
as if they were afraid of coming near him, while
others slinked past him where the wall met the floor,
to join the others at Rose's feet. Why were they
coming in such numbers? Was she drawing them somehow? Underward,
I bawled him, unsmiling. It's good to see you didn't die. Heh,
you too, though, I believe you rather did. Daimo grinned, yeah, kinder, well,
you know yourself. Like Rose, not wanting things to get
too chummy between them, intervened, Damien lives here now with me?
Does he? Indeed, said Underwood, he does. He is the
reason you are here. No, I can't believe that you
have finally decided to just come and apologize to me.
Underwood nodded, Yes, he is, because you think he is
the London vampire. Underwood nodded again, and so what you
come to kill him? Is that it I only want
to talk to him, Rose, ah, and so to talk
to him. Then you break into my home. Oh and
it is my home now, your veil makes that perfectly clear.
You break into my home to talk to him. Underwood
scratched his head. Yeah, look about the door. We did knock,
but you weren't in what wait a minute, you mean
you actually broke in my door? Underwood frowned. What you
mean you didn't know that? No, but it does not
surprise me. Nothing uncouth you could possibly do would ever
surprise me. Now, look, Rose, I'm really sorry. I will,
of course have the door repaired. First thing, I don't
care about the fucking doar. Rose shouted, you bustard, You
come in here after nearly seventy years of having me
believe you are dead, and you're sorry about the fucking door.
At Rose's feet, the rats began to roil. Well, no,
I mean I am sorry about the door, yes, but
the last sixty or seventy years that's what I'm really
sorry about. I mean, he pushed a hand into his hair.
How can I explain I was sort of busy, busy, Yes,
you know, Rose said, Daimo, alarmed by the way the
rats were apparently channeling her rising anger. Those at the
front of the pack were braced as if cornered by
a threat, their haunches taut, hackles risen, and teeth bared
at Underwood, while those at the back, unable to get
a clear view of the threat, clambered over the backs
of their forward brethren, tumbling over one another in their
eagerness to face Roses their enemy. What, Rose shouted at Underwood.
What were you so fucking busy with, Rose, said Daimo
the rats, I fellow, you're looking pretty pissed off. Underwood
saw it too. He extended his hands toward Rose in appeasement. Rose,
I'm sorry, I've behaved appallingly and I'm really really sorry.
Why what why? Rose asked darkly, her fists closing tight.
What are you sorry for? Underwood shrugged, Well, you know everything, really,
and then Rose screamed or The grief, the sadness, and
the anger that had been building inside her for sixty
eight long years erupted from her, and her rats erupted
with it. They surged forward, like a deluge through a
crumbling dam, a seething mass of bodies pouring straight towards Underwood.
The vampire was too stunned to do anything to protect himself.
He could only stare aghast, even as the rat tied
broke over him, leaping, biting their tiny claws, scrabbling at
fabric and flesh shall I like as they scrambled up
his body to get to his face. Underwarard, retreating, instinctively
kicked out his mind, reeling as to why how the
creatures were attacking him, a vampire, their natural master. His
feet came down on a moving carpet of bodies, tiny
bones crunching beneath his shoes, and then he was falling
backwards from where David stood in the sitting room. One
moment Underwood had been talking, the next it was as
if he had been engulfed by a sea of rats. Milord.
He ran forward into the doorway, stopping at the edge
of the mass of roiling bodies, kicking futilely at the
vermin and thrusting out a hand to Underwood to try
to pull him back to his feet, But the vampire
was lost, just a thrashing shape beneath the weight of
hundreds of bristling, squealing bodies. Rose shouted, Damo, for fox's sake. Stop.
Then his eye was caught by a flash of light
from where Underwood had fallen. It was fire, a sudden
combustion beneath the rats that sent them screeching away, many
of them ablaze. Smoke rose to the ceiling, but through
the burning bodies of twitching and dying rats, David saw
another pale as smoke, not rising, but creeping, clinging to
the floor like a ground mist. As it moved away
up the hall, David cried Elizabeth Daventry, who still tottered
on the sofa, shrieking in disgust as fleeing rats poured
across the floor. What the fuck is happening? Nothing good,
said David. He watched as the creeping mist gathered beyond
the rats and then swirled upwards to take the shape
of a man before solidifying into one. Underwood stood re
formed his naked body, revealing that whatever horrific did damage
the rats had inflicted upon him was now completely healed.
Some bolder rats that had not scattered or retreated, now
started towards him, but he thrust out his hand. Don't
you fucking dare, he growled, and the rats stopped as
abruptly as if they had come up against an invisible wall.
Underwood scowled at Rose and said, in a voice filled
with menace, what the fuck was that you asked for it,
you asshole? And I hope it fucking hurt. Of course
it fucking hurt. It hurt like bloody hell. Well, you
could take that hurt and magnify it by a thousand,
and it still won't come close to the hurt you
have caused me all these years, you fucking coward. I
am not a coward, Underwood shouted. Then why don't did
you just come home and face me if you wanted
to end it? What did you think I would do?
Kill myself? Are you sow vain? You thought I couldn't
bear to live without it? You know? I just just what?
I I don't know why. Rose put her hands on
her hips, pointedly waiting. David attempted to break the tension
with a distraction. Realizing that if Underwood were to tell
the truth as to why he had abandoned her, namely
that he thought that she was insane, things would probably
get considerably worse. He jumped out into the hallway between
them and started stamping out the flames still burning in
the carpet. Sorry, he declared to no one in particular.
I just want to stop this from spreading. Then, for
the first time, he noticed Damo standing beside Rose. He
waved a greeting as he continued to stamp. Oh, all right, Daimo,
here's it going, Dave, pretty shit actually, and you with
raised brows, Daimo gestured mutely to the filthy dress he wore.
David nodded, huh, saye more. Damo touched a hand to
Rose's shoulder. Rose, do you know I think this might
go a bit bedder if you and honder were just
sat down and talked it out over a copper tea.
Rose turned slowly to him, as if reluctant to break
the death stair match she and Underwood were engaged in,
and frowned. What I make it, and then you too
could just go into the sitting room there and me
and Dave can just leave you to it. He gave
her a nod of encouragement. What do you say, I
say no, there is no need to work anything out.
Look at him. He has nothing to say for himself.
David slipped off his jacket and picked his way through
the smoldering rat corpses to hand it to Underwood. Underwood
took it with a nod of thanks and put it on.
He buttoned it up. It was too small for him,
tight and falling short of completely covering his buttocks and genitalia,
he sighed. Despite herself. Rose chuckled, Oh this amuses you,
does it? Said undo it? Yes it does. Actually you
look pathetic. It suits you. Underwood sniffed hmhm, fair enough,
Well laugh away. Then I suppose I deserve it. You know,
they still close to yours here, said Daimo. Maybe she
go and put something on. No, said Rose, do these
clothes belong to me? Now? I come on, Rose, I
know you're mad at him, but give the guy a break.
You just set a pack of rats on him. Rose
glad at him. Oh so you take his side now? No,
I'm not taking any sides. I'm just saying you got
a chance here to do the magnanimous thing, to raise
above your differences and treat him better than he deserves. Dat.
I don't really want another man's junk swinging around in frontier.
Rose smiled, by junk, you mean his? She cupped her groin. Yeah,
you are jealous him, No, of course not. I just
think it makes the place look untidy, you know. Rose
chuckled and said, sotto voice, I think you are jealous, Damian,
I am not. He's got naught down there for me
to be jealous about. Excuse me, said Underwood. Damo and
Rose turned to him. I can't hear you, you know, oh,
said Daimo. Sorry, but you know what I mean, right
I believe me nobody wants me and trousers more than
I do right now, so he turned to Rose about
those clothes, I'd be very grateful, Rosamond. Rose waved a
hand at him, go on, you nos a way. Underwood
bowed his head, thank you. Later, in the living room,
on the floor Rose normally occupied, Daimo came back from
the kitchen with a tray laden with steaming mugs and cups.
At the table, he nudged an empty pizza bar box
to one side and set the tray down amongst debris
left over from their earlier pizza and wine evening with
the women from the pantry. David, Elizabeth, and Rose sat
on the sofa and armchairs watching him. David got up
and came over. Thanks mate, which one's mine milk, one sugar,
dut one. Daimo pointed out a mug and David took it.
Then Deimo handed a white teacup and saucer to Elizabeth. Milk,
no sugar, right, yes, thank you, said Elizabeth. She smiled
and took it from him, careful to conceal her mild
disgust at the brown tannin stains that encrusted the cup's interior.
Demo handed Rose a mug of black tea, then sat
down at the table with his own, also black. A
few minutes ago in the kitchen, Rose had broken the
news to him that this was how he would now
have to start taking his tea since he was unable
to digest milk. He took a sip, grimaced, and dumped
in a third teaspoon of sugar and so Rose said,
turning to David, you are User's boy. I understand, yeah, unfortunately, unfortunately,
why do you say that, Well, he wasn't exactly farther
of the year. If you know what I mean, you
disliked him? Well, I didn't really know him, but what
I did know, I have to admit I wasn't too
crazy about He could be nice, but he could also
be quite terrifying. But how could you not know him?
You are a Flinch? No, yeah, but I grew up
with my mum. See she wasn't secked. Oh that's rights unusual,
isn't it. Yeah, though Elizabeth would know more about that
than me, he said, attempting to shift attention from himself.
All eyes turned to Elizabeth, who to mention if her
name turned back from watching a thick spider's web in
the corner of the ceiling for signs of life. Oh no,
I'm afraid I don't really, since Lord Underwood has been
asleep my entire life. The protocols relating to how he
and his guardians beget new guardians is It's not really
my line. I tend to deal with the more practical,
day to day needs of our clients. You say you
are a Daventry, said Rose. I know your father, though
I was better acquainted with your grandfather. Oh really, I
never knew him. What was he like? Evils? Not as
evil as mister Flinch's father, she said, returning the attention
of the room back to David. You know you remind
me more of us as father, Charlie. He was a
good man, not good in the traditional sense of the word.
Mind you, he used to kill people for Untow had
done me, but I liked him. He was a gentleman.
What's all this, said Underwood, breezing into the room in
a gray, double breasted chalk striped suit, talking about Flinch's past?
Are we who were? Rose said coolly? But now we
are done. It is time you all were going. It
will soon be light outside, and I don't want you
stranded here for the day. Well, no more than I
want to be stuck here, said Underwood. He brushed his
jacket with a hand and said to David, what do
you think Flinch? I had this made by the same
tailor as the Duke of Windsor super isn't it? Get out,
said Rose, and take your mouths eaten souit with you.
A rose, please, said Underwood. I just want to talk
to Damo for a few minutes regarding this London vampire business.
Would you allow me to do that? I promise, then
we'll be out of here in two shakes of a
lamb's tail. No, there is nothing to say. He is
under my protection now. Any mistakes he has made in
the past are your fault, not his. My fault. How
do you come to that conclusion you sired him? I
did not, said Underwood affronted. Oh but you did, You
said's the one who bid him Liddy flinch. And it
was your blood on her necks that Demo consumed to
complete the process, my blood on Lydia Rose nodded. Oh, yeah,
said David. I remember that, my lord. You remember how
at La Fantasia she stole your blood and drank it
and then it was all you know down her. Underwood stiffened.
He glanced at Damo, then back to David. Yes, yes,
I remember flinch. But well that means he's my direct
progeny or half progeny. Yeah, said Demo. Sear me Da,
and my granddad too, sorda. Ah. Underwood scratched his head. Oh, dear,
I'm so terribly sorry. I don't worry about it. I
don't blame you. It was an accident. Even Lydia didn't
mean for me to get up again after she'd finished
Goslin de life out of me. Ah, that's very gracious
of you, Thank you. Ah, No worries. But I'll tell
you what. If you let me call you Dan, then
we're quits. Dan. No are gone. I can't be doing
with all that Millard bollocks. You're no a lot of mine, Dad,
I mean Dan, unless you prefer Dad. Of course. Are
you trying to annoy me, Demo? Demo laughed, No, I'm
only winding you of Dan. Sorry, so said Rose. You
have your answers and now you can go. Please just
a moment, Rose said Underwood. He turned back to Daimo.
Flinch tells me you killed the priest, but not the
woman they found in the skip. That's right. Well then,
so who do you think did kill her? You mean
the other half of the London vampire mystery. Yes, well,
like I said to Dave, I reckon if I made
it out of La Fantasier alive, and now we know
that you did too, despite getting torched down the roof.
Someone else could have done as well, either Lydia or Miguel. Miguel.
Underwood turned to David. He's dead, isn't he? David shrugged dead,
shmemd Daimo is dead. You were dead, but here you
both are. It has to be one of them, Daniel
said Rose. There have been no incidents like this for decades,
and now we have two in one night. One of them,
we know is a direct result of you being brought
back into the world. She lay a hand on Daimo's arm.
The other. Well, it is only logical that it has
to come from the same mess, your mess, all right,
all right, don't rub it in, said Underwood, rolling his
eyes blast indeed, said Rose. Now, look, it's time. You're
going if you want to get back before dawn, and
you do because you aren't staying here. Yes, yes, of course, sir,
we're going. Underwood caught the eyes of David and Elizabeth
and tipped his head to the door. All right, then
let's be off good, said Rose, and don't come back ever.
Underwood stopped in the doorway. Ever, Rose, I know you've
every reason to hate me. But we're immortal, we're family.
We're bound to run into No, we are not. You've
managed to do an excellent job of avoiding me his
last sixty eight years. All you need to do is
keep it up. But Rose, I was asleep. Now that
I'm awake again, Daniel, Rose fixed him with her eyes.
I said, no, there's nothing more we need to say
to one another, not now, not ever. For a moment,
Underwood held her eyes, searching perhaps for the woman he
had known, and perhaps recognizing her. Then with an air
of respectful regret, he gave a small nod, turned and
left the room well. David put down his mug of
tea and rose, I suppose that's us too, then, thanks
very much for the tea. He looked at Damo. We
should meet up sometime, not sure how or when or where,
but flinch. Underwood's voice called from somewhere down the hall. Yea,
said Daimo. You're staying at the house in Bloomsbury Square,
are you? Yeah? The least for now, David, We really
should go, said Elizabeth, adding with a smile to Rose,
thank you so much for your hospitality, Lady Underwood. If
ever you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me.
Davontry and West are always ready to serve in any
way we can. Rose nodded, thank you. Good day. Elizabeth
waited in the doorway for David to join her, and
then together they left. As he started up the hall
to where Underwood waited at the lift, David heard Damo
back in the room say are we still going down
to the pantry and fucking starving? He didn't hear Rose's reply,
the pantry, his mind filled with horrific possibilities to what
such a place might involve. All right, Flinch said Underwood,
what's the matter? You look concerned? Me? Lord? What's a
pantry in vampire terms exactly the same as it is
in human terms, the place to store food. Why? I
just heard Deamo say they were going to go down
a pantry once we've gone. Oh lucky, then said Underwood,
as they boarded the lift. You think they'd have offered
me something from there instead of tea? And they didn't
even offer me that. They rowed the lift up to
the basement level. David and Elizabeth didn't mind the darkness
so much as their eyes had become accustomed to the
gloom in Rose's apartment, where light bulbs were few and
whattage was low. So what do you think, my lord
asked David about what? What about everything? Daimon and Rose,
Lydia and Miguel. Where do we go from here? Home
is where we go. It'll be light soon and I
don't know about you, but I need a good day's rest.
Then we can reconvene with Elizabeth and the partners in
the evening. And what about Rose and Daimond. What about them?
Are you? I mean, are you cool with it? The
lift settled at their floor, and Underwood drew open the
scissor gate. Cool with it? You sound like a jazz musician, flinch.
They stepped out into the basement hallway, where the light
was still on. You know what I mean? Yes, I
know what you mean, and yes I am cool with it.
Good luck to the pair of them. So you're not
planning on carrying any judgment on Daimo, then Underwood chuckled, Oh,
I think that might be very unwise, don't you. Yeah? Probably,
So you believe him? Then, yes, I believe him, and
unfortunately I now agree with his suspicions as to whom
we're up against, which one, Lydia or Miguel Well. Lydia
would be the more probable of the two, wouldn't she
She could have escaped from the roof of La Fantasier
even if she didn't go into the air ducts as
I did. I didn't see or hear her go anywhere
because at the time my eyes and ears were on fire.
But that doesn't mean you couldn't have found some other
avenue of escape. Underwood briefly examined the broken front door.
Jam get someone out to fix this first thing, would you, Elizabeth? Yes,
my lord, consider it done. Good show. He led the
way outside and up the steps to the street. David
was the last out the door. He turned out the
light and pulled the door to behind him, trying to
settle it so that it at least appeared to be closed.
He heard the sound of a helicopter nearby, maybe out
over the river somewhere, its sound rising and falling with
the cross winds high above. As they went up the
steps to the street, Elizabeth said to underward, my lord,
may I suggest that Daventry and West try to reach
out to Lydia on your behalf. We have multiple contact
numbers and email addresses for her. If she is alive,
she's bound a big one of them up, and if
she isn't well, it doesn't really matter, does it. We'd
keep any correspondence business specific. Of course, I wouldn't mention
you or anything that might alert the police should they
get their hands on it, but there would be coded
references that Liddya would understand. Good idea, Elizabeth's do it
this morning. Then if she is alive, we could be
in touch by nightfall. He stepped through the gate and
onto the street, where he stopped suddenly and then what
asked David, still on the steps, make nice with her?
Kill her? What's the He came up against Elizabeth's back
where she had stopped at the gate to the street.
What's up? He asked? Why have we stopped? Then from
somewhere out on the street came a shout, police, get
back inside. David looked around, but from where he stood,
all he could see on the street were carved tires
and Underwood's feet. He noticed the helicopter now sounded very close.
He looked up. At the same moment it flew out
over the street, its roar resounding from the buildings all around.
Do what she says, said, Underwood, get back inside. Elizabeth
turned to find David blocking her way, face turned up
to the helicopter. Go, she shouted, on seeing the fear
in her eyes. David spun round and leapt back down
to the basement. And as he landed and practically fell
through the door, from somewhere up on the straight above
came the blast of a gun shot. Calicopter's guns. What
the flip has been going on out here? While our
heroes were inside find out in the next thrilling episode
of Underwood and Flinch season six. Although having said that,
now that I've switched to subscription billing at Patreon, you
could find out right now, couldn't you just go to
my page of Patreon sign up as an Underwood Flinch
listener and in the year well, yeah, you know all
the rest of it. So that was Underwood Flinch season six,
episode eleven, and I hope you enjoyed it. As I
mentioned earlier on, I do have a bit of news
for you about the possible Underwood Finch television series. I
will talk to you about that on the other side
of this and break. Welcome back. So what is all
this news of a TV show? Then, ladies and gentlemen.
I'm sure you remember the bad news bomb around New
Year that the Village road Show Underwood and Flinch TV
show wasn't going to happen. But did I mention at
the time the Village road Show itself has now gone.
It's amazing, isn't it. The Village road Show, which has
been around forever has gone, And that the UK TV
production company that was going to actually physically make the
show has also gone out of business. Did I tell
you that? Yeah? Yeah, amazing. Things are very bad in
Hollywood right now. They're calling it the contraction and it's
having an impact over in the UK too. But it's
not all bad news, because despite all that, I and
a TV producer friend of mine are not going to
give up on the Underwooden Flinch TV show quite so easily.
But this time around, there's going to be one big difference.
You see. One thing I learned from my first go
around at this sort of caper was that handing over
my story to someone else to write for TV was
a mistake, a big mistake, and it's one that I'm
not going to repeat this time. That's why the writer
on this new Underwooden Finch TV project is none other
than me myself. And really, who better for the job.
There's no one, is there. I mean, every writer who
isn't me is going to change the story to some extent.
It just happens, doesn't it. Maybe a little, maybe a lot,
But that is what they do. And that is why
all of us, when we're watching a TV or movie
adaptation of one of our favorite novels, says, what the
flip is this? What happened to this character or to
that location. This isn't the story I know and love.
It's so rare that this isn't the case, isn't it?
And when it isn't usually comes down to one of
two things. One the writer of the novel is now
the writer of the TV show, or two Frank Darabond
is you know Frank Darabont. He adapted some of Stephen
King's novels and stories into movies, like The Shawshank Redemption,
The Green Mile, and The Missed Movie Not the Terrible
television series. He also adapted season one of The Walking Dead,
And if Frank Darabont were an option for this, then
I would happily hand the writing over to him. But
he's not, so it's option one me. So how is
it going? Then? Well, I admit I had a few
false starts. I initially thought I could just lift scenes
and dialogue straight from the novel and slap it into
the script. You know. I thought, let's adapt this really faithfully,
but I soon learned that that is not even vaguely possible.
So I then tried various means of compressing the story
but without changing it, you know, and that just kind of, well,
it didn't work either. So for my third attempt, I
compressed it and I changed it, but kind of I
didn't change it really at all, at least in terms
of what happens, and you know what everything means. The
sense of the original story is still there, the characters,
the locations, etc. But some of the scenes are different.
And I had to create a new character who isn't
actually new, but she just never had any scenes in
the original story, and that is David's mum, Kathy. She
becomes a character now in this adaptation. And I also
made inclusions to the Underwooden Fleetch backstory, things that you've
never been shown before. And what's really good about this
is I'm doing it, not some other Charlie, but me.
So you know that if I say this stuff is backstory,
it is backstory. It's actual canon. You know. These new things,
these characters and scenes, make it possible for me to
compress what took a lot of chapters to get across
in the novel into much less time in terms of
screen minutes, because in this medium, of course, I have
the visual, not just the written or audio, you know,
tools at my disposal to tell the story. And as
we all know, a picture campaign to a thousand words.
So in short, I managed to compress everything from the
prologue of the novel all the way through to chapter fifteen,
the Resurrection, into one fifty six minute pilot script. Oh
well done, Mike, I hear you cry. But is it good? Well?
I think so. My wife thinks so. And I'm very
happy and indeed relieved to say that the producer thinks
so too. Oh he has some criticisms, of course, and
he and I will get to those, you know, in time.
But now I'm kind of finished with the pilot and
I've moved on to the next phase of the process,
and that is the writing of the so called series guide,
which is a sort of a supplementary document that goes
with the script, that tells would be buyers all about
the series world, the characters, the intended story arc for
season one, and how I see the show developing in
any possible subsequent seasons. This is quite difficult for me.
It would be dead easy, of course, if it was
just like a regular blurb that I was writing for
social media or whatever. But this, this series guide, it's
part of the pitch, so it's massively important and so
it's you know, for me, it's quite panic inducing because marketing,
you know, talking things up and so on. As anyone
can tell by my highly fabulous online presence isn't really
my strong suit. But you know, I'll give it my
best shot. The producer will critique it, and we'll get
there in the end. And when we do, maybe we'll
see an Underwood Finch TV series after all, or maybe
we won't. I don't know who can say. I mean,
most shows don't happen, do they. The Village road Show
series was supposed to be a dead Sert, wasn't it.
I was told that at every turn, Oh yeah, yeah,
dead Sert slam dunk, don't worry about it. This time
next year it'll be on TV. But it wasn't. So
I go into this new project optimistic but realistic, hopeful
but not delusionally. So once I've done my you know,
writing bit, I will hand all of that over to
the producer and we will see what happens. Fingers crossed
ay and toes. But there we are. That's it then
for this podcast, my friends. This double episode means that
we are now only three episodes away from the end
of season six. So do stay tuned, won't you. I'll
be back with episode twelve next month, but from me
for now, until the moon rises again over Underwooden Flinch,
take care and farewell.