Week 6, 4 December 1996.

You know the drill by now. Three pairs of runners, in a phone box, somewhere in the country. Three people trying to catch them. And, for the past two weeks, failing to catch any of them. Richard points out the total winnings so far have topped 51,000. Dave McBride has given up, and been replaced by new boy Matthew Randell. He's at the Toddington service station, as Beryl and June are playing in Luton. It's damp there, but not raining hard. When he heard the news, Matt was in Kidderminster. Over 70 miles away. The ladies reckon that Dave should have the honour of the capture.

Dawn and Lisa are in a rainy Leeds, and hardly giggling at all. Paul Denchfield has resorted to writing love letters. Paul asks an am dram student at the university how it's going. "Absolutely fuckin' great," replies the student. Live. On national television. Whoo hoo.

Anthony and Tracie have made it up to a dry and cold Glasgow. First time we've played in Scotland, and first time anyone's flown about. Victoria heard about the massive move when she was in Manchester, many miles away. Rather than rely on couriers, as she's done for the past fortnight, Victoria has recruited the local taxi drivers.

Beryl and June have been told to learn a different dance each day. Barnsley to Manchester to Stoke. Matt reckons the duo are in Nuneaton, "what are they doing in Nuneaton?" but they're actually in Coventy. Matt tries to talk to their instructor that day, but he puts the phone down. The ladies work along the north side of Birmingham, then through Birmingham to Luton. Dave McBride compares tracking Beryl and June to tracking Robin Hood. They're playing for the full 7000, and as ever, they're not confident of surviving the hour. Matt's recruited the Hell's Angels, and they're going on a tour of Dunstable. 256 phone boxes, no sightings, no filmings. No one wants to squeal on Beryl and June.

In Glasgow, Victoria reckons the duo might be in Govan Street.

Lisa and Dawn are playing in the same square that was a winner for Beryl and June last week. Their route took them up to Doncaster, across to Preston, then back to Leeds. The latest lead puts them in Spen Lane, and the runners reckon they're not popular in Leeds. Their task: perform with a synchronised sinking (er, swimming) team each day. After filming them in Sleaford, Paul tracks them again in Lincoln, but gets sold a pup. Paul stays outside their hotel until they leave the hotel early in the afternoon. "Paul could be filming us now," and he was.

"They're very good," says Oleg Gordievsky, "but Paul's even better." He's able to predict their movements now, and that could be their downfall. There are a lot of people outside the phone box, Paul filmed them again today, and they've doubled back on themselves again, so they're only playing for 2000.

Except ... a guy who Paul met in a petrol station has given them away, and Paul finally has the capture. Off to a tequila party, apparently.

Its 6 below freezing in Glasgow, and Tracie and Anthony are cold. 755,000 people and 731 phone boxes in the Glasgow Central and Paisley square. They hugged the south coast to Bournemouth, then to Bristol, Cardiff, and a flight to Glasgow. The task: sink a golf putt from 10 feet. It's perhaps not as easy as it sounds, especially as the golf club regulars don't like two punks playing their game. Especially along the snob-infested south coast. The golfers are on Victoria's side, and the paths cross in Worthing on Sunday. The taxi driver is a fan, and takes them to the New Forest for free. The golf course owner wants to shop them, and Tracie sinks her putt in a record low 11 shots.

The duo is beginning to fall apart, arguing about routes and plans. It was even worse in Glasgow, where Anthony had to hire out a suit and spiked shoes, though they do look the part. Victoria won over the one club, stood in the car park of the second, then bolted to the third and caught them. Oleg says that Victoria is trying to charm people, while Tracie is trading on her eccentricity. "She should be more flexible and charming," says the Russian mole. Sunday was the only slip, so it's another 6000 tonight.

Five minutes to play. Victoria isn't listening to Richard, concentrating on her clues. She seems lost, but could be just round the corner waiting for the signal to make the capture. In Luton, the news is that Matt's just down the road, and confident enough to discuss their location without moving. "Why has the Hell's Angel shopped them?" asks Richard. "Because they're on my side," says Matt. They're 200 yards away: can you see them? "No." Except he can. And after four weeks, they're out.

Which leaves the duo in Glasgow, where Victoria has found the box, but does need to get inside it before time expires. And there's a crowd of about 40 people in the way. Will she make it? Thankfully, she makes it.

All three pairs of runners are caught, so we only have time to very briefly introduce next week's six, and set them running. See you next week!

Out there... Wimbledon are fourth in the Premier League, Newcastle progress to the last eight in the UEFA Cup after putting out Metz. On University Challenge, Manchester squeaks a win against Birkbeck, 360-40.

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