Roald Dahl's Esio Trot

I don't know about you,

but to me there's something

a bit funny about tortoises.

The way even

the teenagers are wrinkly.

I bet that leads to some

awkward moments.

"Oh, Brian, I love you so much.

How old are you?"

"I'm 17. How old are you, Janet?"

"I'm 86." "Goodness me. You're old

enough to be my grandmother."

"Yeah, actually, Brian,

"I... AM... your grandmother."

But the story I want to tell you,

although it does involve tortoises,

it doesn't begin with a tortoise.

It begins with a man

called Mr Hoppy.

'Mr Hoppy, the hero of our story,

'lived in a nice flat

in an apartment block in London.

'There are three things

you should know about Mr Hoppy.

'He's kind...

'he's shy...

'and most importantly -

he's not that guy in the hat.'

Oh, are you OK,

Mr Mavrokoukoudopolous?

'He's the man in the lift.'

No rush, Mr Mavrokoukoudopolous.

I'm holding the door.

- Take your ti...

- Whoa!

Ah!

You care for a crisp, Mr Pringle?

Ah, yes.

Lovely.

'And don't worry if he doesn't look

the flashiest of fellows.

'I've learnt

that very often in life,

'it's the quiet, unassuming ones

'who turn out to be

the most interesting.'

I'll have to fix that.

Give me

a kiss to build a dream on...

'I think we can safely say

Mr Hoppy lives alone.

'Either that or his family

are very small eaters

'and all having a sleep

at the moment.'

Bom bom bom...

'No. He lives alone.'

Give me a kiss

before you leave me...

'But don't worry,

'this isn't going to be one of

those stories where a lonely bloke

'wanders around a flat for two hours

'and then dies alone

of a horrible disease.

'It's going to be full of passion

and surprises -

'as indeed is our Mr Hoppy.'

Raspberry Cream,

meet Wisley Vanilla.

Oh, give me your lips

for just a moment

And my imagination

Will make that moment live

Oh, give me what you alone can give

A kiss to build a dream on.

The truth is there were

two loves in Mr Hoppy's life.

One was his flowers

and the other was a secret love

he kept all to himself.

And like so many secrets,

it was the most important thing

of all about him.

Because Mr Hoppy was in love...

with the girl downstairs.

Good morning, Mr Hoppy.

Ah.

Mrs Silver.

Hello.

Hello.

By the way, our story

is mainly concerned with this -

the second love.

If you want to find out about the

flowers, watch Gardeners' World.

I mean, I like plants as much as the

next bloke, but this is very much

not a "will or won't the dahlias

blossom before the frost kicks in?"

type of thing.

Oh, wait, I think that's mine. Hey!

Hey!

Another absolutely gorgeous morning.

Yes. Gorgeous. Absolutely.

Another one of them.

The sort of weather that makes me

want to just

take off all my clothes and

dive naked into the nearest lake.

Don't you think, Mr Hoppy?

- Mr Hoppy?

- Yes.

Yes, yes.

Perfect weather for jumping

into lakes

wearing very little.

'Sadly, Mr Hoppy was so shy,

'he couldn't even ask Mrs Silver

round for a cup of tea...'

let alone dive stark naked

into a lake with her.

But he loved her.

And he remembered the precise moment

he'd fallen in love.

'Which happened to be

the first moment he ever met her -

'five years ago.'

Hold that lift!

Oh, thank you so much,

you darling man.

Oh, they won't be long.

- What floor are you?

- Four.

Oh, isn't that lucky?

I'm moving in on three, below you.

I hope you're not

one of those rowdy types,

keeping me up all night

with your hip-hop stylings.

No. But my name is Mr Hoppy,

in fact.

Hoppy. Oh, what a gorgeous name!

And do I detect a little

American accent there?

Well, yes, I am an American.

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