But how? “Follow me” she said smiling, and led me out past the back of Ratchly Chemical Factory, which I was a little nervous about, then on through the Ratchly woods and up just outside Charry Marry Fun park. It was a beautiful sunny day, about 3pm so I had another hour before making the dinner and bringing it over to Michael in ‘his house’ as he then liked to scream at me. Ah Michelle was goin’ good-o with the stories of how she never got married and that there were no good men in the town anyway. I said I know, I hadn’t seen a proper man in years and only for Floyd I’d have forgotten what a massive mangler looked like. Michelle gaped at me and said: “Oh, you should see what they feel like”. She stared. I didn’t know what to say. That’s when we heard it. (Whistle) Michelle said to follow her. So I did. We ventured in our suede boots and loose scarves to a clearing. There stood four middle-aged men and from a distance they looked like they were out of a Crowded House video from the 80’s. Michelle took my hand. The biggest fella approached, spat the fag from his gob and it was then that I recognised him! It was Brendan! Brendan Barty! The best Gaelic footballer of all St. Saville’s! My old classmate! Oh my God, and was that Gavin Moore behind him? And that’s definitely Clement Gansella! What the Janey? But I said nothing. Then at the rear and scuffing his shoes was a man with a familiar sound.  “Wheeeezeeee!” It was J.J.! Jagger Jordan! I looked at him in horror. We had just met in the morning! But he looked different, as if vacant, as they all lined up. J.J., Brendan, Gavin and Clement! Just like our yearbook from ‘91. A semi-school reunion in the woods outside the Fun Park. “Good woman yourself Michelle, she’s a hefty one!” said Brendan, staring at my buxom motherlode, not seeming to recognise me. And neither did Gavin or Clement. As for J.J.? He just stared ahead with bloodshot eyes. Well, I thought to myself, probably a kilo-a-year since three of them last saw me. Yep, eighteen extra kilos will do that to a girl! And never mind the slabs of black eye-liner I got off Michelle too! Yet there was no hint of them recognising their classmate 18 years on! Were they letting on? And if not, surely I didn’t want to tell them. I was too busy sweating! Which made what was about to happen one of the strangest episodes of my life. And it was a wonder too that J.J. kept his mouth shut about seeing me that morning at the flat! But soon, I was to realise why… “Ready? Sure let’s burst it on!” said Brendan again. He sounded brain damaged. Must have been all those years fighting a football. But I was mesmerised. What were we all doin’ in this field Michelle? Just then I made out the big bent helmet under Brendan’s grey stonewash jeans. His fashion sense was always rubbish. His hammer twitched as Brendan took me by the hand. I jolted. No man had done that in such a gentle way since Floyd. I blinked. Gavin said I was a “very sexy woman” with “big milk and blood.” I don’t know if he had been on drugs the whole time since school but I tell ya, I only went crimson! Then as quick as a snot Clement whips out his skinny aul’ creamy flute and starts riffin’ off strokes! One after the other like a piston engine! Ah! I looked around for Michelle but all I saw was Brendan and Gavin staring at me, each flickin’ their nervous flogs in me face! Oh my God! I was mortified! I hadn’t seen this amount of penis since Michael taped over the wedding video for spite. “Yeah, yeaaaah, take this bitch, have and hold this forever, ya cunt.” Frumpy Dumpster is an Amplevoicepod feature-length Ear-film. A podcast with bite. The fateful story of Lindor Lamb, a middle-aged woman who has just about had enough of men. As a young woman, those were naive care-free days for Lindor, until that is when she encountered Payter Mayhem at Charry Marry Fun Park and school headmaster Sean Wrigley. Further anguish was caused by her husband, the 'Old Bruiser' himself. Frumpy Dumpster is a feature-length explicit and sometime farcical story from Amplevoicepod. We create original, scripted, character & plot-driven comedy dramas. We construct fully immersive HD audio adventures. More than just a podcast, we are the Voice of Pod.

After I came back from hospital the kids were little angels and Michael was feeling sorry for the burst of anger. Ah you couldn’t blame him. He was embarrassed after shitting himself on the floor and I was the nearest thing to him. Thank god it wasn’t Nadia or any of our kids. He did get his moods alright, but I still think that was one of those isolated incidents and sure there’s no-one to blame. He even let me watch him do his nude portraits as I couldn’t go for a run as me broken nose hurt too much. There was Nadia on the bed, joined by mum Sharon! Sharon kept fit in her thirties and you knew she knew she was still a good thing! Two of them there lying on the duvet, all smiles, naked as the day they were born. Michael studying them intensely in his dressing gown. He got it as a gift from his mother on the anniversary when I happened to be in the hospital getting me nose set straight. I got a dressing gown too. It was so sweet of her. There I was, in the bedroom, me and Michael in our matching dressing gowns. Michael’s positioning Nadia’s legs over Sharon’s to expose their bits so he could capture the best pose for his painting when doesn’t his dressing gown accidentally fall open and his hairy man dangler flops out for all to see! “Ah would ya look at that,” laughed Michael. I was in shock! Thankfully the girls seemed unfazed as it flapped straight out onto Sharon’s stomach. She, god bless the woman, took it in her hand and helped him put it back in his dressing gown. Sharon’s such a sweetheart. I think Michael was a little aroused by this. I could tell. Little Michael was always popping out from then on. And Sharon was always helping it back in. Sometimes even Nadia lent a hand. This was so great to see my hubby the artist, with his passion at work concentrating, and concentrating very hard too. Now, I didn’t want to step out of line, but I thought I could do just a good a job as Nadia or Sharon in a pose like that. I mean, lying on pillows with your legs open, how hard was it? You’d be away in a hack with that kinda job wouldn’t ya? So there I was, in the bedroom, not a stitch on under the dressing gown. I had to do it. I jumped up, whipped off the gown, dived on the bed and cocked my arse in the air. Paint me darling, paint me! I yelped, surprised at my own excitement. I think I even squirted! Michael though was in no mood for interruption. I got a spray of blue paint on me arse and he tells me to- “Fuck off and make tea for the girls and be of some real use!” Ah, I thought, it was probably best left to them. They didn’t need my stretch-marked moon base destroying the view. But as I made tea in the kitchen I caught my reflection in the cracked glass cupboard. Broken nose. A flabby motherlode of tits. Bruises. A “fat whore!” as Michael would’ve joked. Then the flashbacks came. The punches, the put downs…. I gripped the spoon. I had changed so much physically in the 17 years since St. Saville’s. Saggy jaw, pot belly and a massive arse… I was the original: Frumpy Dumpster!  Something had to change! Yes sir-ee! And it really did change. It started during my dad’s funeral. Michael was drinking heavily. He had already drunk his way through a gallon of Guinness and threw up on me dad’s open face in the casket. Everyone was horrified. “Ya fuckin’ idiot”. “He should be the one in that coffin…”. “Fuck me. That better! Ah howaya Father… Lovely weather.” “It is Michael, it is.” That was the end. I had absorbed it for long enough. So I decided to go back to school! Yes! I tell ya now, I was dead chuffed. There were adult classes on in St. Saville’s and I know I said I’d never set foot in the place again but this was different. Sharon said I should have divorced the Old Bruiser but sure Michael would’ve hunted me down, chopped me up and fed me to his pigs. Yeah pigs! He was into the home farmin’ then, god love ‘im. At least it kept him out of the house and I didn’t mind the stink in the bed too much. No, it was better to get an education so as to handle the worse extremes of Michael’s personality. I know! It was staring me in the face for so long! I’m such a fool really. Well no more sister! I rolled up me dungaree sleeves, hopped in the Highlander and drove up St. Saville’s driveway at 6pm. Two hours-a-go, three nights a week. I couldn’t get Psychology that I wanted, so I took Drama instead. Sure it was the only one left after I arrived late for the sign-up. Thanks Michael for throwing the car keys down the toilet! An’ doin’ one of your aul’ ‘big ones’ on top. In the first class we met our drama teacher. Oh my god! I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was Floyd Taylor! The Floyd Taylor! Fresh from a two month stint ‘on the boards’ as he said, in Thailand! Thailand?! Would ya believe that now? I was amazed. Ol’ Mr Heavy Metal himself, the long locks shorn, out dancin’ in the far east, givin’ it mighty to the locals! I tell ya now, I was sold. This was me! ‘Waiting for Godot’, ‘King Lear’, the Vagina Monologues!’ And the old magic hadn’t gone away between Floyd and me. We took a shine to each other immediately. His face and torso were so taut! Nothing was lost. Nothing. Hello you! I said, as sprang up slowly to shake his hand. “You have such a powerful face Lindor. Such emotion. History.” Said Floyd sternly. Well, a few slaps would do that to a girl as I blushed and twiddled me straps. “Here’s a good costume for you, go and change into it.” He whispered. God, last time I stepped into a dress was at the funeral. I was mortified, but this was the moment to prove to myself that I was making the right choice. To hell with Sharon who said I was mad and “a big dopey fool” who should “know her place” and “well, fuck off then”. I snatched the green dress and headed behind the curtain to change. It was just like my old favourite. A green floral design with long hanging sleeves. Now, I used to remember trying on dresses back in the day when I had an arse worth the attention but this was all new; mirrors on three sides. And Floyd Taylor was now in the back changing too! I saw him in the mirror. Holy God he had a sausage on him that’d put Old Bruiser to shame; a big fat one with a bulbous vein forcing its way down the length to the helmet. I nearly flooded me knickers. Janey Mack! If I had known then what I saw now, I would’ve let him up on me back in ’91! What was I thinkin’? Him now here parading ‘round the room rehearsing his lines, not a stitch on him! His dangling bell launching itself from hip to hip had me mesmerised. Up to then I’d never seen such pure majesty! Frumpy Dumpster is an Amplevoicepod feature-length Ear-film. A podcast with bite. The fateful story of Lindor Lamb, a middle-aged woman who has just about had enough of men. As a young woman, those were naive care-free days for Lindor, until that is when she encountered Payter Mayhem at Charry Marry Fun Park and school headmaster Sean Wrigley. Further anguish was caused by her husband, the 'Old Bruiser' himself. Frumpy Dumpster is a feature-length explicit and sometime farcical story from Amplevoicepod. We create original, scripted, character & plot-driven comedy dramas. We construct fully immersive HD audio adventures. More than just a podcast, we are the Voice of Pod.

(Daytime TV channel hopping) “Before she’d get depressed…” “…exciting episode of…” “Leo! Leo the Lion, and Leo, he makes it safe here. Lion Productions provides quality cinematic products that inspire, innovate and entertain… It’s Leo the Lion…” (Advert) “Have you been burned alive and need compensation? Well phone us now on nought-nought-nought-two-six-four-eight-thousand, that’s right; nought-nought-nought-two-six-four-eight-thousand! Terms and conditions apply.” Hi yaaa! All men are wankers. You know that? Well as a wife, a mother, a worker, and a lover. I know. My name’s Lindor. And I am a frumpy dumpster. And I’m going to my school reunion if it’s the last thing I do. But this bottle of Pimms and this box of Solpadine… don’t want me to leave the house!               I hadn’t spoken to anyone in ages. I’d become a bit of a recluse. So when I got an email from old flame Leo Hancock, from St. Saville’s vocational school, the years disappeared and I was right back in 1991. In Room 4 upstairs, at the blackboard. Fooling around with long-haired Mr Heavy Metal himself, Floyd Taylor. The natural light shone in as I pulled the duster away from him. I was laughing. He blew chalk dust from the shelf at me.  I wasn’t messing you know, I wasn’t messing. It wasn’t the duster, I said. “Ahm… What?” Floyd replied, confused, tugging at his ruby-coloured jumper. It wasn’t the duster why I came here… you don’t believe me do you? You don’t believe me do you? I repeated. “Ok-aay” he answered. When I was trying to get the duster off you, I wasn’t sure of what was going to happen next. “Same here”, he said, “I felt like doing something, but was afraid of the reaction”. I looked at Floyd. Oh, so did I, I wanted to, but…. “Oh, don’t do this to me” he said. I know…, I answered. “You’re being cruel now. I could’ve… jus’ cruel…” he said. I looked him in the eyes and said: It’s not cruel. And stared. I think Floyd was aroused. “What about now”? he asked. Yep, I replied. Then we kissed. It was so electric. Even more so when I opened my eyes to see Leo watching us at the door. Me knickers were in floods.  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this” Floyd said. I’ve wanted it too, I answered. There were so many boys in St. Saville’s back then. Floyd Taylor. Leo Hancock at Looseholes disco, Zuberi Jelani because his Dad ran a chip shop and he had a car an’, an’ many more since, that I don’t want to count. Never mind the other admirers, like Payter Mayhem and Sean Wrigley. But they were much older and they should’ve known better! I mean I was only 25 at the time when I was still working out at the ‘Charry Marry’ Fun park. I was crying because my husband Michael dropped me off at the entrance, taunting my weight as usual. “Fuckin’ fat cunt! If ya actually ran around lookin’ after the children ya might lose some kilos, ya lazy thick cunt!” The ‘Old Bruiser’ himself, up to his usual put downs and insults. I slammed the car door and got the keys from the reception to open up the park toilets. But janey mack! You wouldn’t believe this! The fun park owner Payter Mayhem was wanking over a huge photocopy of my Charry Marry application picture. A big A3 colour picture of me! Well, holy god now! I was so shocked, the buckles on my dungarees blew off! Now I thought I was a decent looking girl at 25 then, but to find my boss tossing off to a huge picture of me when I applied to the park aged 12, was well, a bit sick. I didn’t wait for the apology. No sir-ee! I ran out of the toilet with Payter falling over his cords halfway down! I ran up to my parent’s home across the road from the park and phoned my husband. But he was at his anger management. “Don’t fuckin’ interrupt me you stupid bitch, you know this drives me mental! (farts)” So I found solace in my old Jane Fonda videos in my bedroom. They helped reduce the love-handles after my babies: Rooster… Jarvis… and Leona... I switched Jane on, tried to work out but I nearly tore the neck off meself! “Come on girl, burn those calories!” After a good cry I switched off Jane, changed out of my denim dungarees and put on my favourite green floral dress with frilly cuffs… Strapped on the black heels and cycled into Ratchly, “Get out of the way ya fat bitch!” … to buy some comfort food off Sorcha at the Hungry Hippo. I chained the bike outside. In I went. Bottle of Bordeaux, Jaffa Cakes. Tub of Haagen-Dazs. £8.91, yeah I know exactly how much it costs Sorcha, thanks love, here’s a tenner, put the rest in the St. Saville’s Fundraiser box. Bye yaaa hun! But that reminded me. I hadn’t been in to see the old place since we graduated 7 years ago! Frumpy Dumpster is an Amplevoicepod feature-length Ear-film. A podcast with bite. The fateful story of Lindor Lamb, a middle-aged woman who has just about had enough of men. As a young woman, those were naive care-free days for Lindor, until that is when she encountered Payter Mayhem at Charry Marry Fun Park and school headmaster Sean Wrigley. Further anguish was caused by her husband, the 'Old Bruiser' himself. Frumpy Dumpster is a feature-length explicit and sometime farcical story from Amplevoicepod. We create original, scripted, character & plot-driven comedy dramas. We construct fully immersive HD audio adventures. More than just a podcast, we are the Voice of Pod.

(Forest atmosphere) (Jagger masturbating) Desecration: Jagger? Jagger: Yeah? Desecration: I was taken. Jagger: Eh? You want to be taken again? Heehee! I know you do. Awww. Desecration: I was taken. By the Mournsouls. But I escaped. Jagger: Well, just relax, you’re safe now, I’ll look after ya. Because, I-I, I love you. Desecration: Love? Jagger: Oh Desecration, just open your top there a bit more, uh, stand with your legs further apart. Desecration: What is love? Jagger: Oh baby don’t hurt me, mmmnng, don’t hurt me no more. Desecration: You are uncovering me. Jagger: That’s because I love you. Desecration: I am now naked. Jagger: Heeeezzzeeee! Yes! Aw, you’re beautiful, even your ‘tache. Come here- I want to fuck you so hard. Desecration: Unauthorised touching. Unauthorised touching. Jagger: No! What? Wait, (slap) shut up! Desecration: Please desist immediately. Jagger: Shhh! No, that’s bad, that’s bad. Stay quiet, and I’ll only put the tip in. Desecration: This is not what I was designed for. Jagger: Unngh, unngh, that’s it, that’s it… Just have to stand on this tree stump. Stay still. Desecration: Jagger. Not what I was designed for. This is wrong. Jagger: No Desecration, this is very, very right… uughn. Desecration: Jagger… Un-un-unauthorised penetration. Jagger: Aaaahhh, aw, ya fuckin’, aw, just a bit more in… Nnng. Desceration: Un-un-ununauthorised penetration. I see… I see… I see… Jagger: You’ll see stars in a second, I’ll desecrate your soul. I’m, I’m bevelled in on me tippy toes! Wheeeze!! Desecration: I see… No. No! The Mournsouls! (Ungodly screeching) Jagger: What the fuck? Mournsoul: Jagger you fool! Jagger: Agggh! Busher: What was that? Mox: Down at the forest. Darkness has already descended there. Tucker: Was that Jagga? Dickus: Eh, where’s the breeder Mox? Mox: Oh, oh, ah, you are kidding me right now! He snuck off with my breeder?! Arlee: Told yis he was like that. Desecration: No… Meemong: Run Jagger run! Jagger: Meemong! Do something, they’re after me! Mox: We have to get out of here. Now. (Moleculant appears) Busher Ah faceflies! Cover me moles! Tucker: It’s the car Busha, the car. Mox: Get in. Dickus: Hoo-hoo! This is fun! Arlee: But you can’t leave them behind! Mox: The breeder will survive. Busher: Peah! Move! Tucker: Wait, wait, wait! What about Jagga? Mox: He’s gone. Forget about him- no, wait, I see him runnin’ now, in the mirror. Tucker: Run Jagga! Jagger: Ahh lads! Arlee: Jump in! Jump in! Will ya slow down for him! That’s it, that’s it! Run! Juuump! Jagger: Aaaahh- (jumps) urnff! Busher: Ah fuck sake, it’s in me mouth. Get off mae! Tucker: Step on it! Busher: Why?? - Have you got no clothes on Jagger? Mox: We’re moving. It’s fine. We have an hour. Arlee: Well could you conjure up a big engine sound tearing away like, to make us feel better? Mox: Of course! Like that great transmission of yours, the Sweeney! (Car roars off) Amplevoicepod make lovely sound-designed ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. United Mutations I, II & III and Panspermia I & II & III are 8.5-hours of a sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite ‘Battle of the Planets’ but just as awesome.

Mox: This is a Relivenator, it’ll bring these ‘stolen ones’ back to sentience. One blast, wake ‘em up! So, who first? Busher: Give mae fuckin’ the gun, I’ll do it! Yeah? Mox: Ah now careful my human friend, you are supposed to be my enemy! I mean you could just as easily use it on me and run out of here, which would be bad for your health. No, no,  which one of the stolen ones do you want to relivenate? Arlee: I don’t give a shite. Jagger: Eh I’d say Dickus, what you think? I don’t know what I think, what’s best? I mean- Tucker: Dickus then, doesn’t matter a fack. Arlee: Yeah. Mox: One Dickus, coooming up! (Relivenator powers up and zaps) Dickus: Ugh, ugh- Jagger: That’s mad. Busher: Peah… Hello old friend! First you die, now you’re alive! Dickus: (Alien voice) Tucker: Jesus, he might be alive, but that’s not his voice. Jagger: How’d he get back to Soupalon from under a ton of Neozine spilling over him in the factory? Arlee: He didn’t. It’s not him Jagger. Dickus is dead. Mox: Ah, yeah, sorry. Dickus? Planet X47, lingual code ‘81’ please. Dickus: (translating) Uh? Ah… um… O-kaay? Where the hell am I? Mox: Why, under my control of course. Dickus: Mox Faulder? The great Mox Faulder? Mox you magnificent bastard, I’ve read your book! Mox: Ah-ho, well thank you Dickus Soupus. Listen, I’d like to introduce you to some friends; Tucker: Eh- Busher: Something’s very wrong about this. Jagger: He’s the spit of himself tho’ Ned. Mox: They are from planet X47. Dickus: Ok, planet X47s! That’s amazing. Planet X47, I’d never thought I’d see it. Mox: Four of them Dickus, it’s our lucky day! We will now call them ‘humans’ or ‘people’ for clarity. Dickus: Hu-mans. Em, sorry, just a moment eh. Mox, why am I here? Holy god! That’s Spikus! Tonus! And Malthus! … Bop too? Mox: Yes. And don’t forget Holtus Pox. Dickus: Ah Holtus! My best friend. Holtus! Mox: Okay, stop hugging the bag Dickus. Dickus: Bring him back Mox! Mox: No. Tucker: No, no, no, I’m not seeing this. Mox: Eh, just to bring you up to speed Dickus, your plans to bring down the ruling council were infiltrated. You were all put in suspender for your crimes and kept here. Dickus: Ah, right, now I see. How, eh, long ago was that? Mox: 340 moon cycles. Dickus: What?! Tucker: How long’s that in Earf time? Mox: Eh roughly about 24, yes, roughly about 24 years. Busher: Shyeah! Fuck off! How convenient! Soupalons coming to Ratchly 19 years ago couldn’t have happened ‘coz this cunt was frozen in your shed for 24 years?! Dickus: What’s a ‘cunt’?  Busher: It’s what you are! Amplevoicepod make lovely sound-designed ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. United Mutations I, II & III and Panspermia I & II & III are 8.5-hours of a sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite ‘Battle of the Planets’ but just as awesome.

Soupalon is not what the human resistance had expected. Welcomed by the holograph Orbit, informed of the 38% Oxygen, double Earth atmosphere, then greeted by 7-and-a-half foot tall Mox Faulder, the one-man Aliens Department, unfamiliar with the names of Baldy and The Meemong, and their claims the Savage Garden was destroyed. Answers are needed, a lot of them, including this one: Jagger: Eh, I’ve a question Mox, how did you learn our language? Mox: Aah, from those media transmissions of yours. I can show you. We’ve spent thousands of moon cycles invested in decoding and learning your languages well enough to be here with yis. Hope I’m doing ok! Jagger: I’m impressed Mox. Arlee: They prepared before they invaded us Jagger. Hardly did it on the off-chance that we’d show up here. Us the noggin’ will ya? Busher: Take us to your leader! Mox: I’m sorry, do you always gets enraged at the smallest thing. Are you insecure? Busher: Just do it roight?! Mox: Yeah yeah, all in good time. But you’ll need a good interpreter. If I wasn’t so overloaded with the abduction of our breeders, I swear I’d be your guy! I mean, you chaps are short, under-limbed, and maybe a little confused on account of the oxygen. Anyway, we’re here. Busher: No, no, no. NO! I’m alert. As sharp as a Man United shirt in 1993 and you- what’s THAT? Tucker: Fackin’, hah? Twisted. Mox: It’s the perimeter warning system, we’ve arrived at my compound. Jagger: It’s getting foggy. Is this normal?  Mox: Humans, humans, hu-mans! Come this way! (Entrance dematerialising) Tucker: That just disintegrated! Oh! Mox: Welcome to my MOXYPOD! That’s just the entrance, that’ll ‘reintegrate’ behind ya. Yeah, this is where I can spy on any off-worlders who would like to land and say hi. Jagger: There’re liquid screens?! Actual liquid! Wheeeze! Here, touch it Arlee, it’s sticky and warm. Arlee: I will not. Jagger: Like when I fingered Serena. Mox: Yunno, we’ve actually studied your history… You are technologically advanced enough to be a threat so we control our broadcasts to you. You are apex predators. We would expect anything and everything to be something you could figure out how use as a weapon against us. Tucker: Yeah, we did that, we knew how to defeat yis, that’s why we’re here to defeat you full time, end of story. Mox: Well, don't feel like you're going to have an easy time with us just because we might be nice. Our species are only restrained by their luxuries. One change, we kill you. Now with our breeders kidnapped and you arriving… Maybe you will end up infecting us with a disease that you’re immune to. And if you're lucky, we’ll be devastated and our civilization in utter chaos, making conquering quite easy. Good luck to just the four of yis. Busher: ‘Mox Faulder’. Are you related to Holtus P-P-P-Pox? Jagger: You alright Ned? Busher: Hah? Hah? Wah? Mox: No. His second title just rhymes with my first title. You’re not what I expected. I mean you are small and innocent looking. No blue boxes? Saucer-shaped cruisers? Giant Robots? Well-dressed men in sunglasses? Vigilantes in silver costumes who defy the laws of physics? I mean look at your transmissions. You guys are so familiar! I know I’ve seen you in one of these. Tucker: What’s that? Arlee: It looks like a huge Betamax. Mox: State of the art ‘100 long tape’. They hold 800 pluranuts of data! Arlee: That sounds dense. Mox: It stores holographic copies of your radio signals. We can extrapolate all 5 dimensions. Jagger: 5? Wheeze! Mox: Yeah, here it is. I knew you were familiar! Busher: Here, look at this! That’s us! Wait what? Fuck! Jagger: That’s me! Arlee: Doomwatch? Busher: That’s you in a skirt Tucker, you’re a woman! Tucker: Wot? That’s-how’s this even possible?   Mox: It’s you isn’t it? You are in many of the transmissions we get from Earth. Busher: This is not real. Cop on. Mox: If I can offer some advice. Don't move forward with your ‘invasion’ just yet. Get intel from the other alien empires in the galaxy, first. See how it all works. Tucker: ‘Other Alien Empires’? Busher: He maens the Meemong! He was lyin’, you’re a l-l-liar! You know the Meemong! Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Arlee: You alright Busher? Busher: Mamaaay! Cantona! Charts! Phwizzz! Mox: Hey, I don’t what or who these Meemong are, but if you say they sent you to wipe us out, then consider this, we think peace is better for business. Trade not invade! Much cheaper. Many planets practice slavery, they’d like your technology. Just remember to trade them your ‘televisions’ not your cloud bombs. Busher: Shite! Fuck! Peah! The Meemong DID send us, and we WILL wipe yis yis, yis, fuck! Out! Agh! Jagger: Calm down Ned. Tucker: What he means is, it’s payback mate! Mox: Ok, ok, I think your friend is hyperventilating. Busher: Users! Turncoats! Hang man! Meeeh, (slap) me head hurts. Peah, fuck! Peah, P-p-p-p-peah! Jagger: He’s been infected with Tourette’s syndrome. Arlee: Maybe his new fat body is rejectin’ his bald head. Busher: Mammay! Mox: Mm. You ARE committed. Maybe time to say hello to more of your future conquests and build goodwill and trust, that you can later betray yeah? Arlee: Ha. That makes sense actually. Mox: Steal specimens who either won't be missed or won't be reported missing. Hah? Arlee: Like whoever stole your breeders. Mox: Ah, but they ARE being missed, no, this is more of what I had in mind. Follow me.  Busher: It’s a trap, ungh! Tucker: Are you sure you’re ok Busha? Busher: Stop lookin’ at mae! Amplevoicepod make lovely sound-designed ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. United Mutations I, II & III and Panspermia I & II & III are 8.5-hours of a sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite ‘Battle of the Planets’ but just as awesome.

It came to pass. The Son of Baldy was crucified by metal-hybrid Foghornious, usurping  the orders of Soupalon High Commander Dickus Soupus to fake the killing as a show of dominion over Earth. Dickus Soupus knew all about betrayal, he had sent five humans to the nearest Soupalon planet colony, The Savage Garden, under the guise of his own revolution, only for the humans to be trialled by Pedup Bauer, head gardener, to exploit human weakness and use it against them, via The Facefly, The Trail of Bees and Gay Chris’s Futcha-Futcha game show. But the humans prevailed and the garden destroyed, only after the most revolting human in history, Baldy, gave birth to an egg rectally.     The Son of Baldy was born and after crucifixion, born again! Guiding the remaining 4 tenacious, reckless, human resistors, Ratchly town residents: Tucker, Arlee, Jagger and Busher, to destroy Soupalon plans of pumping Neozine at the Ratchly Chemical Factory into the crop spray. Neozine would infect the food chain and infantilise human brains, breeding idiocy and bringing Soupalon closer to full invasion. Imogen Telch, the woman who helped our heroes, freed them from Whitehaven Asylum, was slain by Foghornious before it, factory foreman Bert Kavanagh, Soupalon High Commander Dickus Soupus and assistant Spikus, all drowned as Tucker thwarted Bert Kavanagh’s final attempt to unleash the Neozine into the supply pipes. The Soupalon interdimensional enemy, The Meemong, first found on the face of Busher, then through radio frequency to Arlee, and after through Imogen Telch, assisted our able men by abducting then decapitating Busher, fusing a giant baby head to his body so as to ‘fight like babies’ to defeat the Soupalon Neozine plan. Now, The Meemong have sent The Ratchly Resistance: Tucker, Arlee, Jagger and Busher, in intergalactic flying armchairs, to follow The Son of Baldy to the Soupalon home world. With just one aim. Kill all Soupalons.    (Armchairs in space FX), (Orbit materialisation) Orbit: I am Orbit. You have entered Soupalon, you are now in Orbit’s Welcome Zone. Many good welcomes! I will be your planetary guide and get you all set up for arrival. Arlee: Who’s this lad Jagger? Jagger: Could be our friends, the Meemong, Arlee, in-flight service, show us how to kill the Soupalon! Orbit: I am Orbit. What an interesting travel mode you have. Upholstered armchairs from an M Planet in the arm of Orion. I have intercepted your frequency to usher you in effortlessly as per protocol of our great civilisation of Soupalon. Tucker: So not the Meemong then. Busher: Shut up Tucker. Play it cool. Trust no one. PEAH! What do you want you holographic hoor?! Orbit: Good Welcomes human! I speak your English! Remember! Soupalon harbours 38% Oxygen, double your atmosphere. Please be aware of oxidative stress! Busher: Get out of me face! Orbit: You may feel a little nauseous, but then you will feel almost alert and active. Jagger: Do you serve tomato juice? Tucker: How do they speak our language Busher? That’s what I want to know. Busher: Maybe it was Baldy! Tucker: SON of Baldy… Busher: Phwizzz! Family of arseholes! Doesn’t matter, we’re here to defeat these Soupal- Tucker: Pipe down Busha! What you say about playin’ it cool? Jagger: You’re right Busher, what did the Son of Baldy say? Eh, ‘The Kingdom of Baldy is near’ he said. Arlee: Go ‘Tom’ Baldy! Jagger: Ah, it’ll be good t’see Tom again. Busher: As much as I despise the cunt… no, no, he’d still let ya down, no matter what! Orbit: Engaging Soupalon atmosphere. Humans, be prepared to burn twice as much for half as long. Enjoy your stay! (Opening Credit) (Armchairs land) (Vomit) Arlee: Awww, puked. Orbit: Soupalon entry sickness. It will pass quickly as you acclimatise. (Soupalon atmosphere) Jagger: Where’s this now? Look at the size of those trees! Tucker: Jurassic. (Massive bird wafts by) Arlee: Holy fong! Did you see the size of that bird? Busher: Roight, let’s cover these chairs and get on with it! Jagger: Uh, I feel like I’ve smoked fifteen joints. Orbit: There is no point my friendly visitors. We know you are here. We have an aliens department led by the great Mox Faulder. (Mox: ‘Hey Mox Faulder, How ya doin’?’) He will have been notified. Between you, me and our trees, it’s a secret agency to deal with this sort of thing. Tucker: Yeah, we have the same back home. Busher: No we don’t, that’s not real. Tucker: Yes it is. Arlee: Well, it should be if it isn’t. Jagger: Orbit, so you’re not the Meemong? Arlee: Jagger!? Orbit: The, who? I am not familiar with that name. Ah but Mox Faulder would know. (Mox: ‘Hey Mox Faulder, How ya doin’?’) He’s made contact with many advanced alien species. Have you fought with any intergalactic species before? Busher: We fought you, the Soupalon! Arlee: Ssssh. I thought you wanted us to come in quiet? Orbit: I’m not programmed to understand this remark, for we have never fought with humans in our illustrious history! Tucker: Yes ya have! Jagger: Took me up onto your Clinkership and you raped me! Busher: You never said anything about rape Jagger, Jagger: Pumped me full of their chemicals too. (flashback) I nearly lost the head. Busher: I actually lost mine! Replaced me beautiful body with this overgrown baby bulk! Tucker: That was the Meemong, and that was for your own good, to save humanity. Orbit: Meemong... No. Systems report no history of this name. Arlee: You’re lyin’. Orbit: You need to seek out the Mox Faulder. You have reached the limit of Orbit’s welcoming zone. Goodbye! (Disappears) Arlee: Poof gone! Jagger: Sneaky fuckers. Tucker: What do we do now lads? Busher: We have to summon the Meemong back. They are our only hope. Arlee: And find Baldy while we’re at it. Busher: Yeah, yeah, but look at me face, are me moles moving? Are the Meemong tryin’ to communicate? Show us a sign! You brought us here to destroy our common enemy! Mox: Hey! Busher: Ahhh! Stand back! Mox: How ya doin’? Jagger: You’re not Baldy, you’re huge! Mox: On behalf of the planet I welcome you, all uh four of you, to Soupalon! Tucker: The size of ya! Who are you? Jagger: He’s a fuckin’ avatar! Mox: Nah, just Mox Faulder, in the flesh, welcoming party! Arlee: At least 7 and a half foot tall! Jagger: Nice brown corduroy threads man. He looks like Bill Ward. Arlee: Ah, and speaks English of course. Mox: Of course. There are lots of different spacefaring races in our spiral arm, we are very diplomatic. I mean you chaps are just one non-notable race among thousands. But a warm welcome anyway! Amplevoicepod make lovely sound-designed ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. United Mutations I, II & III and Panspermia I & II & III are 8.5-hours of a sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite ‘Battle of the Planets’ but just as awesome.

Arlee: (Muffled) uh, uh, is he alive? Imogen: I hit him too hard! I’m so sorry Ned! Tucker: Busher? (Slap, slap, slap). What’s left of him. Wake up mate! Fack look! His moles are back on his face. Quick, put him in the armchair. Jagger: Wheeezee! He looks like a sumo wrestler. Mr Marshmallow! Yes! Arlee: Can’t even see his mickey. Busher: Stop hittin’ mae! Let me sit up. Arlee: What have the Meemong done to you? You’ve got moles!             Tucker: How the fack do you have an overgrown baby body? Busher: It’s still me! Arlee: And that yeah, obviously… Busher: They transplanted mae onto this body to permanently feed mae brain with baby blood. To return to me face and infuse mae with phenomenal consciousness! Imogen: This is what the Meemong wanted! In Whitehaven when you were all dribbling and full of Diazepam… You can really fight like babies! He is a baby! We need to go now! They will start using the poison... Busher: Peah! That’s what they sa- Hey, what’s with all the smoke? Tucker: Where did they suck you off into? You a-ascended into the clouds! Arlee: Just before the metal Lilo shot shit out of Dessie, Tash and all the other dead lads. Jagger: Only one way to defeat the Soupalon… Fight them how they expect. So we’re gonna have to- (Lights Rothman’s, inhales, exhales) Jagger: Fight like a baby. Busher: YEAH! A brain unable to shut things out. Feeling pure emotion! Less analytical. Influenced by imagination. You must ‘empty everything’ they said. This is how to win!   Imogen: The Countdown IS Underway, there IS a New Tomorrow! We have to move… Busher: Roight! Peah Come on! Chest puffed out! We can win lads! I care now! I care a lot!               Jagger: But how DO we fight like a babby? Do we need nappies?! Ha! Huh, wheeeh, huuuuagh! Busher: Shuttup Jagger! Spit those cigarettes out and open your mind. I can train yis. You must forget everything. They think we are weak and defenceless. This is when we fight! Arlee: Kill the Soupalon! Busher: Lissen! Listen to mae! A day after the Sabbath... That’s what they said. Tucker: Aiy? That what your face is telling ya? Imogen: Em, eh I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure actually what you’re talking about at the moment. What is a Sabbath? Jagger: (incredulous) What’s a Sabbath? (Cassette, click, play) Jagger: This is a Sabbath! Busher: You always do this Jagger! Turn that shite off! Arlee: Hang on, today’s Sunday isn’t it? Tucker: What’s left of it… Jagger: Jaysus! It’s just before sunrise on the day after the Sabbath! This was meant to be. We ARE the righteous... It’s what Baldy would have wanted! Busher: Peah! Fuck Baldy. It’s what the Meemong want!  Arlee: Holy fong. Your moles are makin’ an arrow! We need to get out of these chairs now! Busher: Phwizzz! Me face is back! This is for you Ginger! Tucker: Got any clothes for him Jagger? Jagger: I have a pair of purple flares and a Nirvana t-shirt. ’92, great gig… Busher: Fuck sake. Tucker: If we’re going after the Soupalon, Meemong or not, we need to play this right. We go to the chemical factory to shut it down… Imogen: They just absolutely can’t use that Neozine. Arlee: We need more supplies. We should go back to Dessie’s bunker. Busher: Dessie’s bunker? Arlee: Where we buried Baldy. Jagger: Here try these on. Tucker: Ok, ok, Busher; me and Imogen will go with you to the chemical plant. Jagger, you and Arlee check out Ratchly square, stock up at the bunker. We rendezvous in the fork-yard out back of the factory. Jagger: I’m on for that. I’ll do that. We’ll do that, right Arlee? Arlee: I hope we’re not too late.  Busher: The state of me. I look more stupid in your clothes than I did when I was fat and naked. Tucker: No. It looks like you’re ready to kill some fackin’ Soupalon. (Jagger turns up Black Sabbath)Arlee: Ah fuckin’ spare us! (Arlee smashes Jagger’s cassette player) Amplevoicepod make ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. Panspermia I & II & III are a 4.5-hour sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite Jamie and his Magic Torch but just as awesome.

Dickus: What are yis doin’? What the fuck are yis doin’?! Foghornious: Aroooo! Dickus: Betrayer. BETRAYER! Spikus: Uh-ohh… Dickus: Foghornious? Here! I command you to answer me! (Thunder, lightning, wind) Jagger: Bit of a wind getting up. Clone Baldus: My brother’s day has caused the sky to blacken. Dickus: You... Killed… The Starchild! Busher: Peah, gobshites! Always killing Baldy. Everytime! What about mae? Someone kill mae! Arlee: Shut up! Imogen: Look! The church... (Rumble, crack, crumble, clang) Tucker: That thing’s coming down! Oooh! (Collapsing rubble) Spikus: I’m scared Dickus, I never saw things like this here before. Dickus: Come here to me! You disobeyed a direct order! You’re being disassembled! Foghornious: Course of action. Denied! (Locks on target) Dickus: Don’t you point that thing at me! (Gravestones shoot into the air) Jagger: Bidda fuck! Tombstones! Shootin’ into the sky! Busher: Shyeah right... Arlee: Holy fong! I’m glad I’m in this cage now. Tucker: Hold onnnn…           (Earthquake, cage rattle, rock split, tombs break open) Dickus: Put the weapon down ya metal motherfucker. Get off me leg Spikus! Slaggers! I need the Clinkership. Slaggers: Overlord. Atmosphere thickened below. But will attempt to enter. (Crash, crumble, collapse,) Spikus: Dickuuuuus! Imogen: What are… Dickus: What’s that? Tucker: Who are they? Jagger: Here, that’s big Miley at the front of them! He’s been dead ten years. Busher: PEAH! Zombies! Ratchly’s dead have risen! Arlee: They’re coming this way. Imogen: This is the Countdown. It is Underway.. No Tomorrow! No tomo- (Zombies start running) Tucker: We need to get out of this cage! Arlee: Better in than out I’d say. Miley: Vooooooom!(Force field emanates) Jagger: Eh? Miley? Miley: K.Leee.F! Voooom! Hurururh! Jagger: It’s eh, it’s good to see you lad. You’re looking rough. Imogen: Eurhgh, the stink. Miley: Voooom! We are the Meemong! And you must come with us. You must empty everything. Arlee: The Meemong? Dickus: Wha? Meemong? Imogen: They? Are the Meemong? Tucker: He’s lookin’ at you Busher… Busher: Yeah, yeah, take me. Whatever… Miley: Voooom! So you may rise up Busher! (Wind rushes, cage rattles, flash of energy) Busher: Ahoha! AHHH! I’m taking off! Ah, AH- (Launches into space) Me runner-boots! Tucker: Busha? Like a missile!           (Runner-boots land back on the ground) Dickus: Busher? Tucker: Busha? Arlee: Busher? Jagger: How’d he get through the steel? Arlee: Gone! Imogen: Why did they take him? Why? Tucker: Ah shut up Imogen! Jagger: Busher… Heeeee’s gonna walk right into heav-en! Narrator: Busher ascends to the sky, only his white runner-boots left. Ratchly’s dead have risen as Foghornious betrays Dickus Soupus, using long nails. The Son of Baldy is crucified. Died to save arseholes. An enthralling new ear-film audio adventure from the saintly sound designers at Amplevoicepod. PANSPERMIA II has our heroes Arlee, Jagger, Tucker and Busher escaping the Soupalon & their Savage Garden orb and have re-entered Earth, currently hiding out in Dessie Morgan’s pub on Ratchly town square. Deep breaths... The 'Son of Baldy' had been sent to guide our heroes but instead he has turned himself in to the Soupalon as an act of 'pure love' to save humanity. The Soupalon are confused by this behaviour. They had already engineered his body double, the one they called 'Baldus', to infiltrate the humans, by washing their feet inside the pub. So now, in the square outside the pub, Dickus Soupus, Soupalon High Commander, needs to make an example of the 'Son of Baldy' to show the humans that resistance is just not on. The sun is about to rise on the real Son of Baldy’s ultimate sacrifice. The only hope for our primitive band of humans is Imogen Telch, who wants to 'seed the world' with the power of the Meemong, calling upon these celestial beings to save Earth and destroy Soupalon. An intrinsically epic 96 minute sci-fi monster showcasing the creative brain of Amplevoicepod. It's new, it's fresh, it's original. Take a chance, lie back and enjoy it. Amplevoicepod make ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. Panspermia I & II & III are a 4.5-hour sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite the Adventures of Mr Benn but just as awesome.

In Dessie Morgan’s pub, (Clone) Baldus infiltrates the humans by washing their feet. In the square outside, the sun rises on the Son of Baldy’s ultimate sacrifice. Dickus: Right. Here looks good. Right in the middle of the main square yeah? Maximum viewage! Spikus: It’s very exposed Dickus. Dickus: Like your ignorance Spikus! Foghornious: Here is a fine place to die. (Metal cage drops to ground) Bert: Hagh? Don’t look at me when you’re saying that. Dickus: We need to send out a signal to these humanses that they don’t just climb aboard our crafts, fly to our Savage Garden and make the Boghead angry! Bert: Anyway, I should be getting back to the factory. We’re near ready to run the first batch injection of Neozine. You know yourself… Baldy: Calm yourself my child.  Bert: Hah? Hagh… Foghornious: Human, you may return to usefulness and productivity at the injection centre. Bert: Yep! That’s right! But, eh, shouldn’t you just, hagh, square it with the boss first before I- Foghornious: Leave. Now. Bert: Yep, yep! Yes! I’m already not here. Thanks. Thanks. Thanks again. And may God… fuckin’ help yis. Baldy: My father awaits me. My journey to him is fearless. Go in peace Bert Kavanagh, for you are man. Bert: Better you than me in that cage. You can handle it. I’d have shit meself. All the best! Dickus: But how are you supposed to put it together? Spikus: It’s got two parts Dickus, this part higher up, I think. Dickus: We may raise it up on a mound or somethin’, so they all can get a good eyeful. Hey! Hey metaller! Where’s Bert Kavanagh headin’? Foghornious: I summoned him to return to work Overlord. Dickus: Eh… yeah… ok. Good thinkin’! Initiative. Like it. Right! We need- Spikus?! Spikus: Big beams of Earth Wood. Dickus: Should we put him in the cage on top of these beams of Earth Wood? Spikus: I don’t think so Dickus. Foghornious: Overlord. The human beast shall be suspended upon this organic intersection, his extremities punctured by wrought iron fasteners called ‘nails’, into the structure beneath. Dickus: Oooh, sounds good! Then what? We phaser the fuck out of him back into the gooey mess he was born from?  Foghornious: The human shall hang by nail upon this beam until life extinguishes. Dickus: Hardcore, I love that! (Cage rattles) Dickus: D’ya hear that Baldy ‘Starchild’? You going to your heaven, is going to be one hell of a show! Baldy: I forgive yis. Dickus: Yeah whatever. Foghornious: Entering Earth atmosphere. Understood. Proceed... Sean The Degus: (Piloting Clinkership) Yes Overlord… (Inside Dessie’s Pub) Imogen: AAAAAAAH! Arlee: Can someone shut her up! Jagger! Punch her in the face or something. Tucker: She’s goin’ to attract some attention. Clone Baldus: She is attempting communication, beyond this dimension… Jagger: Maybe it’s the Meemong. Arlee: Maybe Jagger. No working radios, she may improvise! Tucker: Has she made contact? Busher: Has me face moved? Jagger: Can’t see your moles for the big purple bruises Ned. Busher: I’m destroyed! Imogen: It is no use! They are too difficult to intercept. They cannot communicate by radio wave as we have no receiver. They cannot communicate through Busher’s face for, it is also broken. Busher: Stop sayin’ it! Imogen: But… There is one final way… Arlee: Tell us! Imogen: You must become naked and form a circle around Busher. Tucker: Naked? Jagger: Heeee, Yeh. Clone Baldus: We must proceed. This is the only way to contact them, to defeat the Soupalon. Busher: Form a circle around mae? What do I have to do? Imogen: Nothing, for you must be the receiver. Busher: Of what? Imogen: The Meemong formed successful symbiosis with us. Our moles, marks, erupting, reproducing, barely moving- Tucker: Naked yeah! We may not have Busher’s moley face but we have moles elsewhere! Imogen: The Meemong are inside all of us and can be released through your… (pause). Arlee: Our what? Tucker: Through our body moles of course! Imogen: No; through your- collective ejaculation. Arlee: Excuse me? Tucker: Hey? Busher: Fuck off peah! Imogen: It is the only way. To initiate the Meemong you must all ejaculate your semen onto Busher’s face. It will bring the moles back to life! Busher: Phwiizzz! Haha! No way! Mamaaaay! Ginger! Ginger: Moeeeowwww. (Clinkership begins to enter atmosphere) Jagger: What’s that noise lads? Clone Baldus: It is the Soupalon. Their ships. They are launching their Earth invasion. Tucker: They’ll find us soon enough. Lads, we have to do it. Imogen: The Meemong are our only hope. Busher: Peah NO!! Arlee: Grab him! Tie him to the chair! Tucker: Now! Busher: Ahhh! Get off me! Mammaay! Patrick! Cantona! Jagger: Use our belts… Here- Tucker: Yes! (Clinkership descends closer) Imogen: Hurry! Busher: Rapers! Rapers! Leave mae alone! Ahaahaha! Tickles! Ginger: Meeoow? Jagger: Imogen. Can, can I look at your face? I don’t think I could get the rise looking at Busher’s swollen gob. Imogen: Look at me. If you have to… Arlee: Fierce pressure. Tucker: To save the world! Nnnnggg! (Masturbation) Clone Baldus: Heheheh. Ah Baldy… Imogen: Harder! Faster! Jagger: Dirty bitch… come on, yeah! Wheeeeeezeeee! Busher: Don’t look Ginger, close your eyes. Arlee: Aim for the face, Tucker: Bastard… Arlee: Aim for the face- Imogen: Seed the world! Let them know it’s survival time! Come on! Jagger: Oh yeah, nearly there! Tucker: Sick… Arlee: His face Jagger! Busher: Please… peah… no…. Imogen: Yes! Oh my god yes! You fucking animals! Asshole fucking men! It’s a, it’s a… Panspermia! Tucker: Wh-what did you just- Imogen: Fuck you! Jagger: Huuuaaaarggh! Siiiiick! Tucker: Wait-Urrrnghf! Busher: Aaaah! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Mnnggg! Arlee: Fuck! Busher! Comin’! Uuuughgh. Busher: Splaaa-aah! Imogen: Yes! Yes! Tucker: What did you just say? A ‘Pan Spermia’? Arlee: Anything happenin’ yet, with his face? Looks fucking sick though… Busher: F-f-f-f-sniff, waaaa… Bastards… (The Soupalon ‘Clinkership’ lands in Ratchly main square) An enthralling new ear-film audio adventure from the saintly sound designers at Amplevoicepod. PANSPERMIA II has our heroes Arlee, Jagger, Tucker and Busher escaping the Soupalon & their Savage Garden orb and have re-entered Earth, currently hiding out in Dessie Morgan’s pub on Ratchly town square. Deep breaths... The 'Son of Baldy' had been sent to guide our heroes but instead he has turned himself in to the Soupalon as an act of 'pure love' to save humanity. The Soupalon are confused by this behaviour. They had already engineered his body double, the one they called 'Baldus', to infiltrate the humans, by washing their feet inside the pub. So now, in the square outside the pub, Dickus Soupus, Soupalon High Commander, needs to make an example of the 'Son of Baldy' to show the humans that resistance is just not on. The sun is about to rise on the real Son of Baldy’s ultimate sacrifice. The only hope for our primitive band of humans is Imogen Telch, who wants to 'seed the world' with the power of the Meemong, calling upon these celestial beings to save Earth and destroy Soupalon. An intrinsically epic 96 minute sci-fi monster showcasing the creative brain of Amplevoicepod. It's new, it's fresh, it's original. Take a chance, lie back and enjoy it. Amplevoicepod make ear-film comedy drama adventures where we submerge your ears in a sea of sound, putting you at the heart of the story along with our heroes. Bursting out feature-length stories with over 40 titles and 50+ characters, all created from collaborative ideas and sculpted over months to arrive at the final mix. Panspermia I & II & III are a 4.5-hour sci-fi podcast series by Amplevoicepod divvied up into 12 storming sections for your delectation. If you like podcast stories with atmosphere, panic and stupidity, served in high resolution audio, where you can immerse yourself into another world (and who wouldn't these days hmm?) you may just get this. A prime feast of a podcast. Not quite the Adventures of Mr Benn but just as awesome.