Near-Death Experiences

Guy spends some time sleeping on a runway, and then admits to murder.

Transcript

Welcome to the one-hundred-and-twenty-fifth episode of The Undercover Intern podcast, coming to you live from the centre of London Luton Airport. I'm your host, Guy Snapdragon, and today is Monday the 23rd of June 2025.

We are sponsored this week by The Maywentery Golf Course. Welcoming men of all abilities since 1923 and depriving 4,000 people in London of desperately-needed homes so that a few rich swear can hit a little ball around.

I finally got back from America yesterday. Eloise unfortunately is still a little unwell and so will stay in hospital there for a couple more weeks or so, which is going to be pretty expensive for me. I was with Eloise when she came out of her coma last week. I’ll let the scientists prove causation, but Eloise’s coma emergence just after 4am last Wednesday was largely due to the vibration in her right breast enlargement perpetual alarm clock which heated her little 13-year-old body back to life.  

I nearly died yesterday afternoon, too. You’ve probably heard about this on the news but let me give my side of proceedings. What happened was, I got back to the studio at around 11am and worked a bit. But then I started craving Burger King so decided to head to the terminal building. This thick fog had captured the airport and most of Milton Keynes. I know I should have turned back but I was dangerously hungry - you know when you just need a burger and coke and nothing’s going to stop you? Well, that’s how it felt. I darted across the runway but for some reason could not make it to the other side. Was I running in a circle? Having now had time to digest the seminal 2009 study by Jan Souman and Marc Ernst, I can tell you that people do indeed go in circles when lost and unable to see. I must have been running for twenty minutes or so when my temporarily out-of-shape body gave up. I’m going to die anyway if I don’t win the Interns’ Choice Award in October - you only have one more week to vote for me, by the way - so why not just lay down and let a jumbo jet obliterate my body? Anyway, the fog eventually released and flights resumed. All that running, and I’d somehow ended up only ten metres from the podcast studio.

I want to place on record my thanks to Captain James Robertson who was piloting the delayed 4:25pm Wizz Air arrival from Athens, Greece. I asked for heroes a couple of weeks ago, and James’ act of heroism almost certainly saved my life. He saw me just after touching down and managed to swerve off the runway just in time. Sadly, this turned out to be the classic Trolley Problem. For those of you who don’t know, the trolley problem describes a situation where there's a very important person on a trolley or a plane’s path who will be squashed to death if the pilot does nothing. On the other path, there are two airport baggage handling manual workers who will be squashed if the pilot decides to change the plane's course. So, you can choose to do nothing and the very important podcaster will be demolished, or you can take action, change the course of the plane, and as a result, two replaceable airport manual workers will be demolished. Is it better to act and kill two unimportant people, or not act and kill one very important person? I’m not sure if you’re a regular listener, Captain James Robertson, but I am grateful for the choice that you made, and sorry that you had to kill two fungible manual workers. I guess you didn’t have to watch the life being crushed out of them because you can’t see the tyres from where you sit, but still, you’ll have felt the bumps no doubt.

As I told reporters, If I have any insights from my near-death experience, it’s just to enjoy every sandwich … from Burger King.

It’s my birthday today. Not that you’d know it. Nothing from my family, obviously. I don’t currently have a wife or a girlfriend. Maybe my friends organised a surprise party at my old address, but if they have they’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it from me, and I’m never going back there. Jim Davidson just tweeted to challenge me to a celebrity boxing match, but I don’t think that’s anything to do with my birthday. 44 years old, and I don’t think that I’ve ever felt more alone in this world, you know. David Jarrett was the only one who remembered and he bought me a Curly Wurly, but he’s leaving me after today. Yes, we need to say goodbye to David Jarrett who will be off to prison for a few years after today’s episode. Thanks for your protection over the past few months, David. You have been a great deterrent and an even better friend. I entirely forgive you for assault for which you will shortly be punished. As far as I’m concerned, your rehabilitation is complete and I’m sure you will be a valued and feared member of Dartmoor Prison. If you rein in that temper of yours, I actually think you’d make a great prison officer someday, so why not treat your time in Dartmoor as an internship for a possible future career? All the very best. I would come and visit you, but Dartmoor is dangerously close to Wales.

But you are leaving me alone, David. I don’t have an internship. I don’t have any money, Bezos has taken all of my OpenAI voice rights windfall. I am teetering on bankruptcy now, from any combination of Jeff Bezos or the perpetual alarm clock class action payments you wish to pick. I haven’t won a single legal case, so the clocks are going to keep changing in the UK. Anonymous also emailed to say that he meant to bid 69 pounds 69 pence rather than 696,969 pounds and 69 pence in the silent blind auction. Anonymous, that’s still the winning bid so please just pay, I’ve got no credit on my Caffe Nero card and it’ll at least let me top that up. Actually, if anybody wants a car - it’s red and fine. I think a Toyota but can check. It doesn’t have any petrol in it. But please let me know how much you’ll pay by emailing undercoverinternguy@gmail.com - cash only and as soon as possible please. It’s Garry Rafferty’s car to be honest but he’d want me to have the money for solving his murder.

Just to talk a little more about my time in America. Disneyland Park truly is the happiest place on earth. It sucked having to go on my own, but now I want to live there all the time. I met everyone - Peter Pan in Fantasyland, Winnie the Pooh in Critter County. I actually got a few minutes to speak with Roger Rabbit about Eloise - she was still in the coma then and it didn’t look good. Roger Rabbit is a great listener and his big permanent smile told me that everything would be OK in the end, even if Eloise died. You have to check out the Haunted Mansion by the way. I was absolutely petrified, I can’t believe they let children in there. It was an amazing day and I had to be dragged out of there at closing. I just did not want to have to go back to that miserable hospital. It wasn’t planned or anything, but I hid amongst the rocks at Frontierland. I just wanted to stay. I’m sure I’m not the first person to do this, and if anything it’s a compliment to Walt Disney that I just could not face the idea of leaving. Seriously, why can’t the whole world just be made into Disneyland? We could all just go on rides all day and eat candy and smile. Why can’t earth be like that?

I don’t know if it’s a need to atone for my sins before I die soon, or if the 30th anniversary is coming up in a few weeks, but I’m going to tell you a story that happened when I was fourteen years old. It’s ironic really that I ended up dedicating my life to interns because I prefer old people. I don’t like being near them for too long because of the smell, but they’re always offering you sweets and stuff. Aunty Gwen lived across the street when I was growing up and all us kids liked her. I don’t know why we called her auntie. I’d spend afternoons at her place, watching her gardening or I’d just listen to her war stories. Her school was bombed by the Germans blah blah blah, you know – that sort of thing. There was a sadness because she was old and liable to die at any moment. She had no real quality of life. No kid wants to be reminded that Aunty Gwen is a best-case scenario. She is what happens if you get lucky and don’t die in a car accident or an allotment murder. What a miserable world. I’m not sure when the idea came to me, but she never seemed to have any family around and I began to wonder if she had a will. Anyway, I upped the kindness a little bit. I’d go to the shop for her to buy bread and biscuits. I’d compliment her on her homemade strawberry jam and tell her about how well I was doing at school, but wasn’t sure whether I’d be able to afford to go to university because I came from a working class family without savings and honestly didn’t know if I had any future without being able to go to university. Then I’d cry. She had this really irritating way of sipping her tea, you know. It would take her like two hours to drink one cup. And that noise she made after every sip, like her mouth was at a party. Like her mouth was having the most incredible time just because of a mililitre of tea. How can anybody be so pathetic? It really got to me, you know. I’m running out of time for this episode. This story isn’t getting to the point quickly, is it? I poisoned Aunty Gwen’s tea. She didn’t even notice, her taste buds must have been totally fucked by age. I used a mixture of mercury from the thermometer I got for Christmas and some dog poo I found on the floor, cos that was all I had and I had no idea if it would work. It took ages for it to happen, but she died. The first dead body I’d ever seen. It was a surprisingly peaceful experience for me, I can’t really explain it but time just slowed down and I felt totally aware of with my own power for just a moment.

I know nothing can happen to me because of the statute of limitations, but, what, thirty-odd years later I still feel a bit bad for murdering Aunty Gwen. It’s amazing how something I did in 1995 when I was biologically a totally different person can still weigh on my mind like this. I didn’t get any inheritance, not from her anyway. I think it all went to some stupid little animal charity. Like just mice and hamsters and smaller. Shrews. I think just mammals.

Thanks again to Captain James Robertson. I think you’ve shown that you can do a lot better than Wizz Air. If you want a reference to get a job for a proper job at British Airways or wherever, do get in touch on undercoverinternguy@gmail.com . If I ever need a full-time pilot I’ll definitely come to you first.

I’ve been your host and producer, Guy Snapdragon. Accountancy from Graham Cree. Security one last time from David Jarrett. May you use your time wisely, and may your use of wise be timely.