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tweeting quotes from @redvalleypod.bsky.social every 30 minutes | run by @petrichauri.bsky.social
GORDON: Well I'm worried.
WARREN: Well, thank you, Gordon.
GORDON: For myself! Clive smashed an office chair into the wall and now he's staring at the fire extinguisher like it insulted his mother.
January 18, 2026 at 5:14 PM
BRYONY: Oh good. I cannot abide waste.
January 18, 2026 at 4:35 PM
GORDON: You sent top secret recordings to your ex-girlfriend?
January 18, 2026 at 4:01 PM
AUBREY: Okay. Tunnel door, midnight. You and Warren, don't worry about anything else. I'll take care of it.
January 18, 2026 at 3:23 PM
EMILY: Why are you wearing a suit? Are you going to court?
WARREN: It's what I wear for work.
EMILY: Well it doesn't look right on you.
January 18, 2026 at 2:46 PM
BILL: Are we all done with the murdering now?
January 18, 2026 at 2:08 PM
HESTER: She likes it on top of the pod I think. I mean, as much as she likes anything. She just stands there.
January 18, 2026 at 1:32 PM
WARREN: Marion Soutar used to live in the farmhouse sometime after World War Two, died after eating one of the pink-footed geese for their dinner and choked on the lead shot from their own gun.
GORDON: Fowl play?
January 18, 2026 at 1:00 PM
GRACE TAKES WARREN'S HAND AND SHAKES IT HARD, AND CLAPS ANOTHER HAND ON WARREN'S SHOULDER.
GRACE: You look great.
WARREN: So do you. How have you got better looking?
January 18, 2026 at 12:27 PM
AUBREY: I'm Aubrey Wood. I used to work here. How do you do?
January 18, 2026 at 11:55 AM
AUBREY: You're the brick and I'm the balloon tied to it, that's what you used to say.
HESTER: Even bricks get to freak out occasionally, my love
AUBREY: It's going to be okay.
January 18, 2026 at 11:18 AM
WARREN: Um. This is just a bunch of adverts for tortoises.
GORDON: (CLOSE) I know. I'm buying a tortoise.
January 18, 2026 at 10:35 AM
WARREN: About half an hour ago.
GORDON: When you were...
WARREN: Tipsy and preoccupied with Sonic the Hedgehog, yes. It went as well as you're imagining.
January 18, 2026 at 9:59 AM
PAMELA: I have to hand it to you, you really are the golden boy.
CLIVE: Damn right.
January 18, 2026 at 9:23 AM
GORDON: Don't worry about it. Look, I've got biscuits.
WARREN: Oh God, I love you.
January 18, 2026 at 8:51 AM
MALCOLM: I… I don't want to see him!
AUBREY: Then don't look at him!
WARREN: Er… Nice to meet you.
MALCOLM: Go to hell, fucko!
January 18, 2026 at 8:18 AM
PAMELA: Do you realise how much this sounds like an Alan Partridge bit?
CLIVE: I'm not Alan Partridge. I'm Jerry Maguire.
January 18, 2026 at 7:44 AM
GORDON: The truth is I have to make a choice. To be a friend to you or not. I'm going to keep listening to your tapes. But I'm not going to find out what you did.
January 18, 2026 at 7:09 AM
PAMELA: I have to hand it to you, you really are the golden boy.
CLIVE: Damn right.
January 18, 2026 at 6:30 AM
GORDON: How about some fresh air?"
January 18, 2026 at 5:53 AM
GORDON: Ah. You're very special, Warren.
WARREN: Well, thank you.
January 18, 2026 at 5:17 AM
CLIVE: Okay, we probably shouldn't be throwing our dependency issues at each other before the biggest pitch meeting of our careers.
PAMELA: Of your career maybe. I'm just your glamorous assistant.
January 18, 2026 at 4:38 AM
THE RAIN CONTINUES WHILE NO ONE SPEAKS.
GORD: Would you like me to play the next recording?
WARREN: No. No, I can wait.
January 18, 2026 at 4:07 AM
WARREN PUTS IN THE TAPE. IMMEDIATELY AN EAR-BLEEDING METAL TRACK PLAYS.
January 18, 2026 at 3:34 AM
WARREN: You're gonna be here, when I get out?
GORDON: Always am.
January 18, 2026 at 3:02 AM