Music: Dick Barton Theme (The Devil's Galop), then down for Narrator (m): Last week, we left Dick Barton, secret agent, together with his chums Jock and Snowy, tied up with a barbed-wire fence, drugged senseless with a Rod Stewart LP, trussed up in a box, boxed up in a truss, nailed to a block of cement, and finally, imprisoned in the wicked Professor Not-Nice-At-All's horrific bone-crushing-machine. How on earth will they manage to escape? Music: Out F/X: people screaming and being bone-crushed Continuity Announcer (f): (silently) Oh God! Erm... (normal) Well, that was the last in the present series of Dick Barton, Secret Agent. Erm, but now, on the B B Daniels home service, it's time for a brand new programme. We present, Mick Barton, Secret Agent. Music: The Devil's Galop, then down for Narrator: Mick Barton, Irish secret agent, together with his three chums, Jock and Snowy, has been tied up very loosely with a small bit of limp spaghetti by the wicked Professor Not-All-That-Bad-Really, and imprisoned in his quite-pleasant-when-you-get-used-to-it bone-crushing machine, which in any case is on the blink, and even if it isn't, probably won't function today because of an unofficial stoppage by power workers at Tilbury. How on earth will they manage to escape? Music: Out Mick Barton (m, Irish accent): Ha, lucky I managed to bribe that narrator just before we started. Otherwise, we'd all have been a gonners. Snowy (f): That's what I call a narrow one, Mick. Mick Barton: We'll, we can't all be perfect. Anyway, let's get out of here. Ar, I see there's a door over there, with a frosted-glass panel in it. Jock (m): Er er, I I, I don't think we should go through that door, chief. Mick Barton: Rubbish, it's just what we want. Look, that writing on it, it's all back to front. It says 'Way out of horrific bone-crushing machine'. Come on, let's break the door down! Snowy: No chief, wait! F/X: breaking through the door, then bone-crushing etc. as above Music: The Devil's Galop, then down for Narrator: Flick Barton, a Top Of The Pops choreographer and former pupil of Magnus Pyke's at the St. Veitus Academy For Incontinent Semaphore Signallers, has not been captured, imprisoned, kidnapped, tied up, bound, gagged, or beaten, has no links whatever with the Irish, the Jewish, or Mormon missionaries, and is in fact sitting quietly at home with a pot of tea watching Nationwide while biting on a handkerchief. How on earth will she manage to escape? Music: out