[ The video clicks on to reveal an elderly man peering into his bracelet, looking extremely perplexed. After a long moment of just staring, he opens his mouth to speak and an English accent comes through. ]

Eh?

[ Wilf taps the bracelet a couple of times, his brow furrowed in confusion. ]

Hello? Hello? ... Wilfred Mott to mission control? [ He grins a bit at that, because - ha! - he's hilarious.

However, his amusement soon passes and leans in closer, raising his voice so that he's now practically shouting down to whoever's listening. ]

CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? ... Oh, you can? Good. Blimey. Sorry 'bout that, wasn't too sure there for a second. Now, like I said, my name's Wilf and I - well - [ He looks around him, scratching the top of his head and frowning. ] I seem to have gotten meself a bit lost. 'Least I don't remember this bein' on the way down to the corner shop. [ Another smirk, because he's on fire with these quips. While the smile stays in place - polite and friendly as he addresses the masses - he rubs his hands together and is suddenly all business. ] Right. Anyone mind fillin' me in? [ He leans in again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ] This isn't them aliens again, is it?

[ He looks ready to shut off the bracelet when suddenly something else occurs to him. ]

Oh! And if anyone's seen a redhead runnin' about - bit of a temper on her - give me a shout. She's probably hangin' round a big, blue box thing with a tall, skinny sort of bloke in pinstripes.