A gunner with a past. A rollercoaster that didn’t finish the ride. Candles blown out in questionable company. And quiet tremors under the European table. Dan and Mungo connect the dots that maybe shouldn’t be connected.

A man. A curse. A hiccup heard across time. And what really *is* it about Fridays… especially the thirteenth one? Dan and Mungo go deeper than they should.

A voice rises, then is silenced. Shadows gather where truth once stood. The echoes are louder than ever—this is Datepie.

In the undergrowth, something growls. Across the marsh, something glides. Claws, cushions, and chaos—welcome back to Datepie.

A chilled glass sweats in the heat. Overhead, something falls from grace. Refreshment meets madness—only on Datepie.

Quack echoes in the distance. A crown gleams beneath muddy skies. And somewhere far off, a sea of white shirts marches west. It's just another strange day on Datepie.

Organs wail, lyrics drift, and nothing is quite as it seems. A melody shrouded in mist, with meanings lost—or buried—beneath the pale.

Tape winds, secrets unwind. A plastic cassette, a walled city, and a history that refuses to stay rewound. Some formats fade—others get archived in gold.

A hole in a man, a hunger for answers, and a doctor who couldn't look away. Curiosity gets clinical as the line between science and servitude blurs. The gut never lies—unless someone’s taking notes.

A day of sandwiches, scandal, and suspicious serenades. One man’s lunch becomes another man’s downfall, while a legendary bark echoes through British backrooms. Something’s cooking—and it’s not just coronation chicken.