Page 1 of 1

Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Thu Nov 20, 2014 2:03 pm
by Andrew
Hi everyone, in new to the forum. I was just wondering why the reported third series of auf wiedersehen pet in 1988 never went into production. I know this has probably been covered before but thanks.

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sat Nov 22, 2014 5:17 pm
by Magowan
The third series got put on ice because of Gary Holton's death.

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sat Nov 22, 2014 9:23 pm
by AWP Corsa Tim
He means the mention of the third series in the later time... think it was late 80's or early 90's... i remember Kevin saying somewhere that everyone wanted to return again as it had been a few years since Series 2 ended.. nothing ever came out of it though... Same thing happened with 'On the Buses' too. Cast were up for it but nothing ever materialised..

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sun Nov 23, 2014 6:16 pm
by Andrew

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sun Jul 28, 2019 10:14 pm
by Snake-hips
Gutted they never made it at this time.

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Mon Jul 29, 2019 4:11 am
by Breaking Away
Aye. A bit of a pisser like.

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sun Oct 20, 2019 1:13 pm
by racesgirl2000
If you ask me, I think that there should've been a season 3 where Barry finds out he's gonna be a dad, Oz proposes to Vicki and Ally kidnaps Dennis

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Thu May 28, 2020 7:44 am
by Londongal1983
racesgirl2000 wrote:
Sun Oct 20, 2019 1:13 pm
If you ask me, I think that there should've been a season 3 where Barry finds out he's gonna be a dad, Oz proposes to Vicki and Ally kidnaps Dennis
Or maybe an episode where Kevin turns up at Dennis and Christine's new home saying that Vera threw him out after an argument with Vera over money

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Fri May 29, 2020 6:15 pm
by Tracy
Haha, only to find out that things are not at all rosey in the garden. Dennis is hitting the drink hard while Christine is intent on making his life a bloody misery ! :cry:

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Sun May 31, 2020 7:15 pm
by Londongal1983
Tracy wrote:
Fri May 29, 2020 6:15 pm
Haha, only to find out that things are not at all rosey in the garden. Dennis is hitting the drink hard while Christine is intent on making his life a bloody misery ! :cry:
Kevin: Please Dad, don't send me back to Mam.

Dennis: Don't worry, Kevin.

Christine: Your father's right, you're not going back to her.

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Mon Jun 01, 2020 10:54 pm
by Tracy
Kevin, "I pay my keep every week but that new bloke pinched it. I put it on the table and when mum came home it was gone. She took his side as always. Delivering papers in the rain is hard enough without having this crap, I'm sick of it !"
Dennis, "It's alreet son, I know how she works."
Christine, "How are things for your sister ?"
Kevin, "She's not happy either. Like she freezes when he walks in and I know she pushes her bed up against the door. She never says anything but I think he hit her once."
Dennis, "HE DID WHAT ?!!!" :x

Re: Reported third series in 1988.

Posted: Thu Sep 24, 2020 9:35 am
by Londongal1983
Hiw about an episode where Ally escapes from prison and kidnaps both Dennis and Oz:

Jessie sat and listened to the continuous drip, drip, drip of water. She was cold, damp and very, very scared. She had no idea how long she had been confined here. No light showed through into the endless darkness to tell her when day turned into night or back into day again. Hunger had become a constant companion.

Her mother shifted on the cot uneasily and mumbled incoherently. Feeling her way, Jessie crawled to the edge of the cot and reached out to touch her mother's face. She felt feverish. Using her cupped hands she dripped water slowly onto Estella's lips in an effort to get some fluids into her. At this point, it was the only thing she could do.

She reviewed the events leading up to their present predicament again, trying desperately to find some thread that would tell her why they were here and what their captor wanted. It simply made no sense.

They had left the café on Tuesday afternoon and strode leisurely down the street. They had no particular place to be and so they window-shopped. But because they had done this before, they began penetrating into some of the side streets investigating some of the smaller shops. Estella was particularly interested in antique dressers. In one of these shops just off the Champs-Elysées, the owner told her about an obscure shop that dealt solely in estate-sale merchandise. He had suggested they try this shop. It was several blocks off the main thoroughfare in a small dead-end street. It was not a particularly notable shop, the proprietor had told them, but sometimes you could find very good bargains there. They both decided that it was worth the trouble so they had set off. They reached it just about dusk. Jessie had begun to have second thoughts because the neighborhood was not the best and the gathering darkness was starting to make her nervous. But they had come that far and it seemed silly to turn back without at least seeing if the shop was still open.

When they tried the door it had opened with a creak and a jingle of a distant bell. The shop, when viewed from the inside, held little promise. It was dim and appeared to be packed almost floor to ceiling with old furniture, knickknacks, and various other items. Everything was coated with dust and much of what was in sight was in very poor condition. Jessie was just about to suggest that this had been a wasted trip when a curtain at the back of the room parted and a very stooped, old man shuffled into view.

Estella had talked with him while Jessie wandered through the shop looking at all the merchandise. She would have sworn some of the stuff hadn't been moved in years. When the attack on her mother came it was swift and totally unexpected. A figure erupted through the curtain and pounced on her. She was struck viciously across the face and fell, hitting her head on a nearby table. She lay crumpled on the floor, motionless. Jessie cried out and ran toward her. The attacker grabbed her and began to choke her. His strength seemed almost superhuman. She could see dark hair and glittering black eyes that seemed to hold madness in them. Her last coherent thought was that she wished Jonny were there to defend her this time.

She woke to absolute blackness. At first she thought she might be blind and that had caused near panic. She crawled around on her hands and knees searching for something . . . anything. She had finally run into a wall. Run into it rather hard, actually, and the violence of the contact had jarred some sense back into her. She remembered her father telling her that no matter how bad things got, she should never panic. "Once you panic, Jessica, the battle is already lost. Stay calm, assess the situation and be prepared to act when the opportunity presents itself."

She sat for a moment gathering herself up, and then began exploring her surroundings. The wall she had come in contact with had been concrete just like the floor. She followed it until she ran into an obstacle. By feel she found it was a series of metal bars. She followed this again until she came to another obstacle . . . more bars . . . and turned again. By this time she was fairly sure what she would find next so she wasn't surprised when she ran into another wall . . . this one made of brick. By following it she came in contact with concrete again. She was in a cage.

It was at that point that she heard a low moan from somewhere in front of her. She crawled forward until she bumped into a metal container, which she found to be pail containing water and a piece of metal furniture, which turned out to be a cot. The moan came again followed by a hoarse voice asking, "Jessie?"

"Mom!" Feeling her way along she found that the cot had a thin mattress on it and that her mother lay on top of it "Mom, are you all right?"

Her mother's voice was weak. "I can't see . . . "

"Neither can I. I think it's just dark. We're in a cell of some kind. Are you okay? Can you sit up?"

"I don't think so. My head hurts so badly . . . " Jessie felt around until she located her mother's head and probed gently. It didn't take her long to find her damaged face or the blood on the back of her head. There was probably a concussion, and she hoped fervently she didn't have a skull fracture. Without being able to see it was hard to tell any more.

"I think you had better lie still. You took a nasty bang to the head. Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"No," was her mother's weak reply. "One minute I was talking with the old man and the next I was unconscious. I didn't even see the attacker coming. How long have we been here?"

"I don't know. I was unconscious, too. You stay there and rest. I'm going to explore a little more." She rose carefully to her feet and felt her way along the cot until she found the concrete wall again. She then systematically explored their prison. And when she was done she knew very little more than she had right before she had found her mother. It was a cell about nine feet by nine feet. It was bordered on two sides by bars, on one side by a concrete wall, and on the fourth by a brick wall. There was a door in one of the barred sections with an old fashioned locking plate that seemed to require a key. The ceiling was well over her head as she stood, but by climbing one of the cross braces in the barred wall she found that it was about twelve feet above her and made of more bars. The barred walls were welded securely together and the entire cage section appeared to be bolted into both solid walls. The pail of water had evidently been there for a long time because when she put her hand into it and felt around on the bottom she came in contact with some type of slimy growing stuff that had made her shudder. At one time the pail must have had a handle because she found the place where it had mounted, but it was not there now. The cot was actually a solid metal table that someone had laid a thin fiber mattress on. And it appeared to be all one piece rather than having the legs bolted or welded to the surface. And that was it. There were no blankets of any kind and nothing in the way of food. She thought they must be somewhere close to the river because there was always the sound of water dripping, although their prison had no standing water anywhere. And it was very humid. Everything was damp.

Most of their personal belongings had also been taken. That afternoon in the café her mother had been wearing a silk dress and a knee-length wool coat. Jessie had been in a wool pleated skirt, a silk blouse and her black leather bomber jacket. Both of them had been carrying purses. The only thing they had now were the clothes on their backs. Their coats, purses and even their shoes were gone. The room they were imprisoned in was not heated and the temperature had to be in the low to mid fifties. Both women were half frozen from the cold and damp. And still no one came.

And so Jessie sat and waited. Hours dragged by . . . or days. She had no way of knowing how long they had been there. For a while she had tried calling but no one ever came, and finally, her voice had begun to give out. She huddled miserably on the cold floor near her mother and thought despairingly of home.

When the lights came on Jessie could hardly believe it. The intensity was physically painful and tears streamed down her face as she tried to shield her eyes from the sudden glare. At first she could see nothing at all, but finally a form began to take shape as her eyes adjusted. It was tall. It wore a long black coat and a black hat pulled low over the face. She thought the person was male, mainly because of the set of his shoulders and the way he carried himself. The only thing other thing she could see was the eyes. She remembered those eyes . . . the way they glittered. Again it occurred to her that this person was not entirely sane. The figure stood there silently for a long time just staring at them.

Jessie looked past the stranger at the larger room she was in. It appeared to be part of an old abandoned warehouse. The original structure was built from brick and wood. Through the open door behind the man she could see a much larger room. A hint of light was visible and the sound of water was much clearer. The concrete of their prison was actually part of a corner platform apparently rigged to provide a point on which to anchor their cage. It jutted from the wall like a large "L". The cage sat on the bottom of the L and the side rose perpendicular to it. The entire structure was built against one of the brick walls of the original building. It was old but sturdy, and Jessie couldn't begin to guess it's original function. Across the room was a pile of miscellaneous pieces of wood. The room had no windows, only the one door and nothing else. It was lit by a single light bulb hanging by a wire from the ceiling.

Finally, in a cold, laughing voice the stranger said, "So, cheri, how do you like your new home? Charming, non?" A man, that much was now certain.

Jessie looked at him defiantly and said, "It sucks."

"But you must learn to like it, cheri, for you will spend the rest of what is left of your life here."

"Why? What do you want with us? Why have you done this? Who are you!"

The man laughed again. "All in good time, cheri. All in good time. But your mother does not say hello. That does not show good manners."

"She can't say hello. You hurt her, you bas . . ."

"Now, now, cheri, you must be nice to me. Or perhaps I will turn off the lights and go away again and forget you are here."

Jessie fought to keep the fear from showing. Don't panic, she told herself. Remember what Dad always taught you. He wants something or you wouldn't still be here. "You didn't answer my questions."

The man laughed again. "So like your mother. She is your mother, non? You look like her. Although it is anyone's guess who your father is. She never did have very discriminating tastes, that one."

"What is your name?"

"It would mean nothing to you."

"I don't care. I still want to know."


She thought quickly. "So I can know who I hate."

The man stepped closer to the bars. "Ah, so the little one can hate. I have captured a tiger. You may yet provide me with amusement. So . . . " He was silent for a long time, staring at her. It was all she could do to stare back. "My name is Phillipe Manon." Jessie felt a flare of victory. One small battle won.

"So, Phillipe Manon, why are we here?"

"For retribution."

"Retribution for what?"

"Ah, but that question you must ask your mother."

"I may never get to ask her. We need food. And blankets. And she needs a doctor."

And suddenly the man was over the edge. He began screaming incoherently and gesturing at her violently. He picked up one of the pieces of wood from the floor and began striking the bars of her cage with it. She shrank back as far as she could get and stared at him, dumbfounded. He was literally foaming. By the time he finally quieted, she was shaking silently. She was truly terrified now. This man was completely and irretrievably insane. For a long time he crouched on the floor staring at her with those eyes. Abruptly he got up and walked out of the door.

"Wait!" she screamed at him. "Don't leave us here . . . " She grabbed the bars and shook them desperately. And then he was back. She moved back, eyeing him warily. He flung something at her. She dodged it quickly and it fell to the floor near her feet. It was a loaf of French bread. Stale and moldy in places, but food nonetheless.

"Food you will get," he snarled. "But nothing else. She will pay for what she has done." He laughed again as he turned away.

"Wait! Please . . . " He turned back to her again. "What day is this?"

Again that laughter. "Saturday." And then the lights went out.