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Welcome to Ambridge on the couch and in-depth look at the archers with me, Jeff Domas, Lucy Freeman, Harriet Carmichael, Matt Rodriguez-Pain and James Everett.

Now, before we make a start on your emails, let's have a recap of what happened this week in Ambridge.

We began the week with Natasha clopping round the tea room, pissing one Emma's chips about her bore chest to watch research. She was fretting about the lack of footfall over her disinfectant mat and was waiting for inspiration to strike. Asra's utility room is still damp, but that didn't stop her giving us all a five-minute lecture on Ramadan. Linda has decided to fast for Ramadan too, to make things easier, she said, when she's already

cooking for Robert and Khalil. But then it turned out just to be Khalil, as Robert quite rightly

said, get knotted. This is a stupid idea. But then it became a competition because they were in

the bull. And stupid competitioning is clearly bloody

infectious. Linda is a massive cultural appropriator. She's one of those people who start swearing

in Italian when they're on a three-day coach trip to Rome. I give it a fortnight before she's

wearing chalwa-commies. It took her until Thursday before she even considered cultural tourism.

But by then we were knee-deep in Khalil's leukemia, so we were able to skate over that easy-peasy.

Bit more cultural adventurousness over at the bull where Tracy and Fallon were chucking risotto

each other in the kitchen. Tracy let Robert and Linda know that Fallon was up to her eyes,

so Robert immediately called her out of the kitchen and waffled onto her about how the

tea room wasn't doing very well, while she chatted on aimlessly,

and presumably me Derek Fletcher's third lot of risotto burnt on the stove.

Freddie has been put in charge of conveyor belt maintenance at the abattoir,

which I presume means putting something at one end, then going,

woo, and watching it fall off the other.

...