'Stan Wesley Ogden'

 

'Are you sure, Pooh?'

'Absolutely.  Tigger confirmed it.'

'Pooh, think carefully about those two words.  Tigger.  Confirmed.'

'No, this time he's actually got something right.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

'So.  Bob Dylan?'

'Yes.'

'Coronation Street?'

'Yes.'

'Big fan?'

'Yes.  And he's appearing in it.'

'Really?'

'Really.  He's writing a script for an hour-long episode.'

'About what?'

'It dallies with Weatherfield mythology and gender-fluidity concepts.'

'Dallies, indeed.  Well I never.'

'Oh yes.  Bob himself travels through time and bursts into the Rovers Return as an alt-Elsie Tanner.'

'To do what?'

'Settle an ancient score about a contested hairnet with an alt-Ena Sharples.'

'Also played by him?'

'No, by that...oh, what's her name?  Played Hayley Cropper.  Julie--'

'Ah, Julie Hesmondjesmondosmondmarcalmondhalgh.'

'That's the one.'

'Well...fancy.'

'Written a whole album of new songs, Bob has, to go with his episode.'

'Called?'

'"Stan Wesley Ogden".  Well, I say "new".  Some of them are reworkings of his hits.'

'I see.'

'Yes.  "Lay, Petal, Lay", "Stuck Inside of Stockport With The Cheadle Blues Again", "All Along The Foot Of Our Stairs", "Just Like A Barlow"...and...erm....'

'Erm?'

'"Pissing In The Wind".'

'Good grief!'

'Bob's word, not mine.'

'So how does that one go?'

'"How many pints
Must our kid put away
Before yon cops

Mark his card?"'

'Catchy.'

'And if it's a success he'll take the whole concept on tour.'

'Will he, now?'

'Oh, yes.  The Rolling Gail Platt Revue.'

'Gracious!  And will Miss Platt mind being rolled?'

'Oh, now, Piglet...steady on.'

Season's Greetings from them and me...

 

'Hello, loves, us again. Just to say that Matthew Timmins--'

'Michael Thomas.'

'Oh...yes...that...he's asked us to send everyone Christmas wishes this year on--'

'Are we getting paid for this?'

'I didn't ask, Ivy, and he didn't say.'

'So that's no.'

'He's got other things on his mind.'

'Oh, really? Barmaid showing plenty at the Bricklayers' Arms?'

'He's not that sort of bloke.'

'He's a bloke sort of bloke, there's only the one.'

'I mean, Ivy, he's a poet.'

'Oh God help us, one of them. Remember Taplows, as ran the Post Office? The father had a fling with that blonde piece at the Minimart. Their youngest reckoned himself a poet. You could tell, really, looking at him. Never right in all this world.'

'Ivy, it's the time of year for poetic thoughts...happy thoughts...reflective thoughts on what we might be missing--'

'Like Flog It! right now. Hurry up.'

'A time for looking back on--'

'Is this it? His message? Have you started?'

'I'm coming to it, Ivy...I'm extemporising.'

'Strewth, woman, we passed two chemists to get here. You could have popped in.'

'--what we might be missing. The company of old friends. Though, of course, everyone is a friend. Strangers are friends we've yet to meet.'

'Flamin' Nora, not that guff. Marie at the Sue Ryder, she came out with that to me the other week. Oh, yes, I said? And what if you never meet them? Do they come running after you, tugging your sleeve? "Here I am...meet me, go on, meet me." 'Course Marie didn't have an answer to that. Half-baked as the day is long.'

'Ivy, shush...and so, as the festive season draws nigh--'

'Oooh, get you...nigh, is it? Well, Holly my dear, my full bladder's drawing nigh, so I'll do 'em a message while you're faffing about:

Don't trip and tumble in the snow

You'll gum the works up down below.'

'Ivy!!'

'It's practical, is that! Sight better than oooh, peace and love, oooh, joy to the world, oooh, may the Cat of Misfortune do its widdle on someone else's rug.'

'I'm creating the mood for his message.'

'I'll be creating a yellow angel in the snow if you don't--'

'Merry Christmas and a Happy, Peaceful New Year to everybody. From him and us.'

'Coo, amen! Now come on, Flog It! might still be on and I want to see if that git from Beaminster got rid of his glitterball orrery....'