The Crime Files Collection Vol. 4

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1:21I've got a Crime Files OK I haven't sent it to you Am I in it? I don't really know I don't think so but you'll just have to instinctively feel your way around the tension moments. Do you know what I mean? That's a bit of fun, isn't it? Yeah. Crime Files. The Northumberland village of Martin is renowned for its 16th century market cross and its close proximity to the open expanses surrounding the Kielder Reservoir. The nearest police station is located in Hexham, some 40 minutes away. Fortunately for its residents, there has been virtually zero crime for nearly 10 years. That was until the 24th of April 2019, when everything changed.

2:20Yeah. All right, OK. What was it? Situated in a converted stable just off the main street, lies the workshop and display space of local nonsense potter Neil Hunt. On the morning of the 24th of April, Neil was alone in his workshop putting the finishing touches to a utility vase decorated with screaming children and neglected dogs. He was listening to David Bowie tape on his portable stereo unit. He was singing along. Fashion, move to the left. Fashion, move to the right. We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town. Beep, beep. At this moment, the door to the nonsense pottery opened and in walked Newcastle United manager, Eddie Howe.

3:09Nice. And Bob Dooter for fucking fashion. For fucking fashion. Absolutely fucking wicked lyrics, Squire. makes a change from all the modern crest bang boing wallop saucepan music Neil turns off his stereo for Christ's sake I was enjoying that. Did you say something matey? Did you actually say something without any indication that it was required of you? Well did you? I was just singing along to the fucking lyrics mate. I've never had to ask permission to do that before in my fucking life. That's because you've never been in my nonsense pottery before. Now, what is it that you want? What do you actually want?

4:02And back in with the swearing, there's a church not a quarter of a mile from here. As you wish, Squire. I'm looking for a centrepiece to go with all the tats in the trophy cabinet at St James' Park. Something a bit fucking different. Something with fucking attitude. Oh, I do beg your fucking pardon, by the way. I don't fashion trophies. I'm a potter. Now, if that's all you want, kindly leave so I can listen to Ashes to Ashes. Oh, I love that one. My mum said to get things done, you'd better not mess with Mr. Fucking Tom. There you go again singing, without permission, I might add. Like a simpleton begging for scraps.

4:48and it's Major Tom, not Mr Tom. What about that vase there? That's a fucking whopper. You couldn't afford that, matey. I think you'll find my fucking can. My club is the richest in the world. It's not for sale. Why fucking not? Because I don't like you. Why fucking not? Because you're a choir boy in adult clothing. Haven't I seen you on songs of fucking praise? Say that again, mate, and I'll take your fucking miserable face and turn it inside fucking out. You're a choir boy in men's clothes. At this point, Eddie Howe removes a prison shank fashioned from a toothbrush from his pocket and lunges towards Neil.

5:40He grabs him by the collar and places the point of the shank into Neil's nostril. A small line of blood drips into Neil's mouth. Oh, shit.

5:56Sorry, I was too engrossed in it. Get off me! Get fucking... You can shut up as well! Get off me! Get off me! Do you not know who I am? No. Who are you, squire? King fucking shithouse? I'll have you know, my niece's husband's gardener has the largest collection of Stanley knives and vintage shears in the Thumberland. And my son's wife's best friend has the telephone number of the Ministry of Defence. Yeah, and I've got a fucking shank position halfway up your fucking nostril. So who's fucking winning here, Squire? Okay, okay. You are. Why is it always little old me? I polished every single tin donation at this year's Harvest Festival and I once calmed an annoying baby by dangling my keys in its face.

6:47I don't fucking deserve this. Perhaps you would like to withdraw your remark. Yes, yes, I will, I will. You're not a choir boy. So what am I then? An inexperienced but potentially average football manager. Correct. Now, about that pot. Yes, OK, you can have it. I'll give it your half price if you just leave me alone. Just£30 ,000. £30 ,000 of the Queen's singles. No fucking worries. That is just a drip of piss in an ocean of farts from our club. I'll take it and wish you all the fucking best with your nonsense fucking pottery and good fucking luck with your future fucking friends. Eddie leaves the shop with the neglected dog's vase.

7:42A smile comes over Neil's face. Ha, fucking ha. That vase was a failed bake. I was going to try and shift it in the charity shop. Hundred quid max. I'm Neil Hunt and I'm loving life. There's a star. Man, skating in me thigh. He'd like to come and greet us because he knows it's all worthwhile. And that's the end then, Jim. So there you are, but you know. Ah. That was what went on in the small Northumberland town of Martin.

8:23Crime Files, Andy. There's a new episode of Crime Files out. Here it comes. Crime Files. The North Yorkshire village of Yarm is well known for its lively pubs, high-end restaurants, artisan shopping and its wide cobbled high street. Its May Day Parade is renowned for its tulip hurling and traditional lardy cake competition. On several occasions, it has been voted the best place to live in the north of England. That was until April 2022, when the reputation of Yarm was to change forever.

9:07Situated just off the high street is an old coaching lane with the workshop and sale room of nonsense potter Neil Hunt. That morning he was busy firing nonsense miniature tulip brooches, tulip pendants and tulip motif vases, tulip-handled mugs for the upcoming tulip festival. Neil was on the phone to his clay supplier. the last batch of clay is tainted and won't fire properly it crumbles and weeps i i might as well be selling jabby fucking dodges to listen no you listen to me young man if you hold yourself out as a supplier of clay then you should be able to supply clay if you can't supply clay then close your fucking business and move to newfoundland where you can sandpaper shit off the fucking fishing boats.

9:57It's near Canada, which is a good deal nearer than my fucking clay appears to be at the moment. Now get it sorted, or you will have Neil Hunt to deal with, and that could get messy. Goodbye. At that moment, the door to the sale room opened, and in walked the Newcastle United manager, Eddie Howe. Yes. How do you fucking do, Mr Potter? And might I say, what a beautiful with fucking pottery you have here. It's absolutely fucking nailed on. Tremendous. Oh, cut the crap, sunshine. What do you want? What is it you actually want? This is an actual workplace, not a talking shop for lonely choir boys. So I'll ask you once again.

10:40What is it that you actually want? Oh, my spray. Keep your fucking hat on. I'm after a nice fucking gift for her in fucking doors for the tulip festival, you know. Have you got any money? Any actual cash? Or have you just got a few pennies from your piggy bank? If there's anyone funnier than me in this godforsaken country, then I haven't met them. How much do you want to spend? How much do you actually want to spend? I'm not worried about the price, I've spent just so long as it's special enough to keep me in favour with her in fucking doors, you know. What about this intricate little brooch depicting a yellow and red tulip entwined around a tiny rose branch?

11:28Rose branch? You're having a fucking laugh, aren't you? Looks more like a fucking twiglet and one that's had a good licking at that. The brushwork is fucking atrocious, like something a wonky child would do. There's only one child in here and that's you, my choir boyfriend. I suggest you take your little pink head out of here and go and spend your pocket money on some fucking bubble gum. Call me a child again, Squire, and I'll rip your fucking head off and kick it over Sherwood Forest, which is fucking miles away. You're a fucking child in a child's body. Eddie lunged forward as if to grab Neil Hunt.

12:16But Neil was too nimble for him and managed to run to an area of the workshop that was a different area to where he was previously standing. An area where he hung his nonsense tools for shaping his nonsense pottery. He started to throw them at Eddie, but they just bounced off him like he was the owner operator or maybe leaser. Lisa, you know, who's got a lease of a specialist force field. actually he probably hadn't leased it on reflection as that market is largely limited to military use only possibility would maybe be infinity rocket would be infinity rocket baskets but they're fucking hard to get hold of these days so I'm guessing it was an outright purchase Eddie walked straight toward him ignoring the impact of the nonsense tools and grabbed him around the throat.

13:12Nobody calls me a child twice, you little shit potter. How about I destroy every fucking tulip pot in here and use the fucking bits to line the new carp pond I'm putting in in me fucking garden. Get off me! Get off me! Do you not realise who and what you are dealing with here? No. Pray, Hey, do you fucking tell me, you horrible fucking melt. I'll have you know, the PE teacher at my nephew's school has an archery set that he has said I can borrow any time I want. Well, phone him up then, you fucking can't, can you? Because I've got you whacked up like a mouse here. Fucking vice. Now, apologise, and maybe we can proceed with a tulip transaction.

14:04I'm still well fucking up for that. All right, all right. Why is it always little old me? I helped paint the church minibus and I've never urinated in the outdoors. Listen, I'm sorry. You are a great, big, fully grown man. Is that what you want? Yeah, that's fucking super. Now, how much for that large tulip vase with the cricket balls on the fucking side? And the£2 ,000. I'll fucking take it the wife loves cricket guess what it's an excellent choice sir well all's well that ends well may I wish you all the fucking best and good luck with all your future endeavours as Eddie left the shop a broad smile appeared across Neil's face that vase is a piece of shit it's made from the faulty clay and won't last more than 24 hours but best of all Those are not cricket balls, but miniature E-Dam cheeses.

15:08His wife is in for a gut-wrenching shock. I'm Neil Hunt, and I'm loving my life.

15:20So, shenanigans in your arm, Andy. Very good. Always good to hear from Eddie Howe.

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17:13Can I do a Crime Files, Andy? I suppose you could. Yeah? Crime Files. Crime Files. that's a voice isn't it? Really? Crime Files! Who's that? Crime Files! Anyways, the peaceful Leicestershire village of Market Harbour is a small thriving community famous for its music, theatre and of course its twice monthly market held in the beautiful Georgian town square recently it was voted the best place to live in the whole of the UK that will undoubtedly change however following the terrible events of June 15th 2022 and 22.

17:57It was a little bit like a Tommy Squeaker, that one, wasn't it? Hidden just off the town square in a narrow alley, you will find the nonsense potter Neil Hunt manufacturing and selling his nonsense pieces in his nonsense pottery. On June the 15th, he was sat in the front showroom mixing a glaze for his nonsense goblets decorated with images of foxes pointing crutches at baby strollers. The doorbell rang and into the shop strode Mr Wade Rooney. Neil took one look and responded. I don't need any cheap potatoes, thank you, and nor do I need any tiles replaced on my roof. Thank you and goodbye. Hey, old Arnold, Arnold, and that and that and that and that.

18:43I'm a customer and I'm looking for a nice bit of nonsense pot to celebrate the wife's victory in court and that and this and them as well. Do you have any money? You know, actual real money, not bits of old scrap and vegetables that you want to barter with. My pieces aren't cheap, you know. Yeah, I'm as flush as a rabbit's pouch. I'm an ex-footballer and I've just won a big court case and that and that and what and how and why and then and that. Interesting. What sort of piece are you after? The biggest, most expensive lump of nonsense that you have in the shop? And that, this, what, and when, and yes, you know how that'll do nicely.

19:28It's a shame you didn't come in a month ago. I had a huge nonsense pottery prawn holding a microscope in its largest hand, over three foot high, and costing£10 ,000. Sold it to some bloke with a fancy attitude and an east-facing chin. Ah, that's a shame. Colleen loves large prawns and microscopes. That would have been perfect. At that moment, the doorbell rang and in walked Leicester City channel-running striker James Vardy. Oh!

20:06In his arms, he was carrying the three-foot nonsense pottery prawn vase. Wade spotted him and shuffled sideways to hide behind one of the display cabinets. Neil. What do you want? And you'd better want something, as I'm busy with a rich bloke who likes his nonsense parts. Vardy. Yeah, calm down, Mr Potter. You know, live in the moment. Be present. Let's really listen to each other and feel each other's energy. Those words are sickening. Have you broken the prawn piece or something? because I don't do repairs. Too time-consuming and there's no profit in it. No, the vase is fine. It's just as it left the shop.

20:49But I've had a bit of a financial hiccup this last week and I wondered if I could give you it back and have a refund. You know, because at the end of the day, we're all brothers under the chin, you know. I'm not your brother and I haven't got a wayward chin. It was printed quite clearly under your receipt that there are no refunds ever given, even if the piece dissolves, just as you leave the shop. Now, get out of the studio and go and poke your chin down some other hole. Vardy approaches Neil Hunt with the prawn held high. He grabs Neil around the neck and starts to force the long eye pipe of the prawn into Neil's nostril.

21:30Listen, Mr Nonsense. Oh, my words may sicken you, but I have youth and strength on my side. If you don't agree to a refund, I will force this long eye thingy right up your snout and the microscope attachment will be rubbed against your eye until you plead for chin giveness. Ah! Ah! Stop that! You're hurting my potting eye! Do you not know who I am? How do you know my brother's dentist has access to titanium drill pieces and my cousin is a forester who can get me, you know, those ants that bite the living shit out of you. Do you hear me? Vardy forces the long eye thingy further up Neil's nose. Yeah, but they're not here now, are they, Monsieur Pot Pot?

22:18Now, how's about that refund? Why? Why is it always little old me? Every second Sunday I give out reconditioned Bibles to the wayward and the fallen and I once looked after a neighbour's bin collection when he was shitting pork crackling for a month. I'll give you£5 ,000 refund. That's as far as I can go. That's a deal, Mr Pot Potts. You see, that wasn't so difficult, was it, in the larger sphere of things. Neil transfers the money to Vardy on his phone app. And at that moment, And Wade Rooney pops out from behind the display cabinet. So, Vardy, we meet again for the first time without the constraints of the courthouse and that and that.

23:09And I must say, you're looking a little bit worse for wearing that. At that moment, Santi Cazorla pops his head around the door. Hey! Hey, everyone! I got streamers, balloons, squeezy string, luminous shit ape hands, big fingers, Who wants a party? I love to party. Fuck off, Santi. Okay, why so serious, though? Honestly, life is too short to not party. Losers, ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha. Party, party, I love it. I have nothing to say to you other than I expect all that you have achieved and bear no malice towards you and your loved ones. May everyone and everything rest in peace. How much do you want for that prawn pottery, man?

23:58£10 ,000. It's in perfect condition, exactly as it left the shop, apart from a bit of potter snot on the long-eye thingy, which in my eyes only adds to the seafoodness of the piece. I'll take it, lad, and that and that and that and then some. Wade picks up the prawn, raises it above his head and smashes it onto the floor, breaking it in over 142 pieces. Fuck.

24:29Vardy looks on, shocked, as Wade says. I've enjoyed doing that in front of your easterly chin. Seems like a waste of money, but it was worth every penny and that and that. And don't pass to Vardy and his useless channels. Listen, we'll meet again, Wade, and next time I hope we are on our own, away from the prying eyes of journalists, Bob Mortimer and nonsense potters. Goodbye for now. Hey, Potter, I've just had a great idea for Colleen. Could you lock up a vase in the shape of a pointy three-foot easterly-based chin with for sale written on it? Yes, if you have£5 ,000 to spare. Oh, I do, ah. After Wade had left the shop, a tear began to form in the Potter's eye.

25:15That's£15 ,000 I've made today, enough to buy a 2019 Octavia estate. I'm Neil Hunt and I'm loving my life so that was crime in Market Harbour yeah Andy I've had a crime files in okay you ready crime I wasn't ready shit I'm not ready no I'm ready crime files nasty little one. Can I in this at all? Well, you are in some stuff that I haven't sent you, so it might be this. There's a bit of a nasty one this, Andy. Anyway, it's up. The small Buckinghamshire market town of Chesham lies in the Chiltern Hills, some 25 miles northwest of London, a quiet commuter town known for the 4Bs, sorry, the 4Bs, boots, beer, brushes and Baptists.

26:19The TV weatherman Francis Wilson used to live here, but he doesn't anymore. Jessam! Boasts one of the lowest crime rates in South East England and is considered one of the top ten places to live in the UK. That, Andrew, was until the 4th of October 2022, when the reputation of the town changed forever. Shit, hang on. It's not ready. No, it's ready.

26:51there it goes that's like a moped coming from the distance it faded in for some reason tucked behind the market square in Lewin's yard was the latest studio of nonsense potter Mr Neil Hunt it was a quiet Tuesday lunchtime and Neil was sat at his desk reading the Daily Mail and applying TCP to a saw on his left eye suddenly the front door opened and in walked the apprentice frontman Sir Alan Sugar Gertrude. From this place, you couldn't throw a wobbler, never mind throw a pot. Alan holds up his phone, which plays a short blast of canned laughter. Now, I have this canned laughter here, Andrew. Yes?

27:37I think. Right. Good luck with that. You sound like the moped there. Are we editing this show? Love this bit. Oh, man. Alan holds up his phone, which plays a short blast of canned laughter. Let me have a butcher's at your business plan, boss, says Alan. Excuse me, but who the hell do you think you are, waddling in here, demanding business plans? And don't call me boss unless you work for me. And I assure you, I wouldn't employ an old walnut like you, even if my toilet was blocked, and you were the only plumber with working arms left standing on planet Earth. Get out of my nonsense pottery. Listen, pipe down.

28:24Just shut it for a moment. I don't want to hear any more. I don't want to hear any more. I'm interested in investing in shitty local businesses and this dump caught my eye. I'm looking to invest£100 ,000 so today could be more like the lottery than pottery for you. Then I have to try and find that sound effect. OK.

28:55That's good. That's good. Neil. Oh, yes, and where did you get that sort of money to throw around willy-nilly? You look more like a scrap dealer than a wheeler dealer. Neil gets out his phone and plays his trombone sting.

29:21Well done, Neil. If you want the money, just give me a quick elevator pitch. Now, from the look of you, you need a facelift more than a lift to the boardroom. Canned laughter, Andy.

29:41OK, OK, I'll do it. My name is Neil Hunt and I operate the UK's most respected nonsense pottery, selling nonsense pieces at nonsense prices. It's a market that's flourishing and will continue to grow as the public demand more nonsense in their lives. There, that's it. That's my pitch. And by the way, if you needed a lift, it would probably be to a walnut farm to chat with your mates.

30:10What, what, what?

30:16So, what's your turnover this year to date? And I don't mean the amount of times you've turned over in bed due to your septic thigh. They're laughing at me. Oh,

30:37they like that one. It's doubled every single year since 1976. And might I say, the only thing you seem to have doubled is your chin.

30:52You know what's coming, Andy. Yeah. There it is.

30:59I think this is actually pretty good. No, I'm enjoying it. Very good news. And what are your capital costs? And I don't mean how much have you spent on Oyster Cards attending topless bars in London. Candle after, here we go.

31:23I don't have any capital costs. Everything's paid for. And depreciation is claimed against profits. Grab hold of that with your sausage fingers.

31:35Alan grabs hold of a nonsense pottery vase featuring a hazelnut with an arrow through it and the words, I'm nuts for you, written on it. What's a mark-up on a piece of nonsense like this? Cos, I must say, I think you would have to be nuts to buy it.

31:5690 % and it retails at£40 ,000. Very impressive. I'm tempted to invest right here and now. At that moment, the door opens and in walks Karen Brady. Lord Sugar, a car is waiting for you outside to take you to Alexander Palace, where you have a meeting with Daffy Duck. But Karen, I'm about to make a deal here. And when I say deal, I don't mean the town in Kent.

32:26Come on, let's seal the deal. and when I say seal, I don't mean the pop singer. You know, with the facial scar. The door opens again and in walks Tuca Suleiman from Dragon's Den. Yes. Oh. Yes. Oh.

32:48Just hold your horses. I'm willing to give you£150 ,000 for a 2 % cut in your nonsense pottery. I can get you a lock-up for your stock, import your clay from China at a quarter of the price, and put billboards up in places that they will be seen. And when I say seen, I don't mean that bit in Harry Potter, you know, where the Ford Angu ends up in the tweet. SFX, ta-da. I think I'm going to go with Tuca. That's a much better offer. And when I say offer, I don't mean offer tits.

33:30before the sound effect has even finished Karen has walked over to Neil and thrust her ballpoint pen into the saw on his thigh I think you should go with Lord Sugar oh my god what are you doing do you not know who you're dealing with here I'm Neil Hunt my daughter-in-law's piano teacher has access to wires so thin and sharp they could cut you open like cheese. I also have a ray gun on order from Infinity Rocket Plastics. Though I must admit there'd be several delivery deadlines. Karen digs the pen in deeper. Just say you will go with Lord Sugar and the pain stops. Bloody hell, Karen. You've got a lot of pent-up aggression there.

34:21Canned laughter.

34:27OK, OK, I'll take the deal with the sugar man. Christ, why is it always little old me? Just last week I cleaned a strained dog's eyes so that its sight returned. And every week I help repair the fences of the donkey sanctuary. Tuca. Well, right, I'll get back to the den. And I don't mean the home of Millwall Football Club. Tuca leaves the shop. Pleasure doing business with you, son, says Alan. And if you don't mind, I'll purchase one of these hazelnut vases. I've got a fresh one out of the kiln here. You can take it now. Alan points at the vase that's fresh out of the kiln. That's fired. Karen, come on, Lord Sugar.

35:15Daffy Duck's waiting for you. OK, just send the invoice to my head office. Karen and Alan leave. Neil is left alone Ha fucking ha That vase he took on a floor in the glaze That renders it worthless That's 140k I've taken in one morning I'm Neil Hunt And I'm loving my life

35:40I'm sorry Andy That was a bit of a mess But I think it could be fun I think it's, I enjoyed it

35:51Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

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