voice over: “this town, much like any other town in Britain, is a thriving community.
children play on the streets. during the day obviously, not just now, at night. {coughs} ahem... well never mind.
this town, very much like any other town is a thriving community, children play during the day and little old grannys sleep safely in bed at night with their hot water bottles. and rightly so it can get awfully perky around here during the winter, a good hot water bottle does help to keep out the cold...
but this town hides a shameful secret. a shockingly shameful secret. a shockingly sordid shameful secret. this town is a haven for swap shop fans.

camera moves over roof’s and chimneys and centres on a window with a light in it.

cut to interior of council house. posters of Keith Chegwin and Noel Edmonds cover all wall surfaces. swap shop memorabilia adorns almost every surface.
a man is sitting on a bed with swap shop duvet covers. he is wearing a balaclava.
a second man is sitting on a chair at the side of the bed.

interviewer: “this man is a policeman who is working undercover as a swap shop fan. to protect his cover he has asked that we disguise his voice, do not show his face or use his real name.
he has agreed to do this programme to highlight the ever growing sickness that is rapidly taking over this and many other towns all over this great country.”
he turns towards the man on the bed. “how long have you been on this case detective defecation?”

detective: “my name isn’t defecation, it’s John Excrement.”

interviewer: “well we cant go having words like excrement on national television. most of our viewers wouldn’t know excrement if it hit them in the face”

detective: “i think they might”

interviewer: “nope... I'm pretty sure they’d just think it was really smelly snow. anyway, about the swap shop ring that you are investigating, have you had any good leads?”

detective: “no we haven't, we have had some good lunch boxes, pencil cases, coasters, lapel badges and nice scarf's in lots of jolly colours but no leads. you’d be able to get one of them from the pet superstore {he looks at his watch} if you're quick you’ll catch them, they close late tonight.”

interviewer: “i meant leads as in clues”

detective: {looking amazed} “ahhh, clues. no. no clues as such but we are following a tip that was given to us by a well known local informant”

interviewer: {excitedly} “really! what kind of tip was it? was it the address of a major player?”

detective: “no, it’s the name of a dog that’s running at Walthamstowe tonight. me and a few of the boy’s chipped in and put a bet on it. the chief constable gets insider knowledge.”

interviewer: {shakes head and stands up. he turns towards a second man who is also wearing a balaclava} “detective?”

detective: “manure, detective Ian Manure”

interviewer: “really? your name is Ian Manure?”

detective: manure “no shit”

interviewer: “so detective shit...”

detective: {interrupting} “it’s Manure, not shit”

interviewer “but you just said it was shit?”

detective: “no. i said “no shit” to the question you posed as to whether my name was manure. the name itself is shit but in actuality it’s manure”

interviewer: “yes well whatever. now detective do you have any leads?”

detective: “no. it’s the pet shop you want. if you’re quick you might just catch them. they close late tonight”

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