Original subtitles

(horses neigh)

Poly! Roly!

What's up, owd woman?

Feeling chill?

(horse snuffs)

Aye, well, maybe we should bring you both in t'warm.

(hurried rattling ofplates)

(kettle whistles)

Come on, you two. You are going to be late.

- I can't find my other shoe. - I can't find the marmalade. Can't find it?

- Lost it. - How can you lose a shoe?

- He just lost it. He's hopeless. - We haven't got time.

Put your gumboots on.

- I can't go to school in gumboots. - Yes, you can. Ah, marmalade.

Tristan!

It'll be fine, Jimmy. It's National Gumboot Day.

Tristan, it's after half past eight!

Tristan!

- You are a lazy oaf! - James, please leave me alone. I'm ill.

It is your turn to take the kids again. It's half past eight, for God's sake.

- You're ill? - Darrowby Young Farmers Club.

- Another farewell party? - I've been poisoned.

Every night this week. You're only going to lreland for a few months.

James...

you'll miss me when I'm gone.

- (Helen) James! - Yes, darling, I'm coming, I'm coming.

- What was that banging? - Tris's door. He's still in bed.

- Never mind, sweetheart. - He's done it again.

- Siegfried will be back Tuesday. - I've got surgery at nine.

I'm going grey. I'm beginning to look like an old army blanket.

Oh, nonsense, you're still the same man I married 13 years ago.

- Am I? - More or less.

- (Jimmy) Come on, Dad! - Grey? I'm gonna go white.

- Why can't I wear my gumboots, Daddy? - Cos you can't.

Darling, it's only National Gumboot Day for boys. Come on.

Right, at the double.

(cockerel crows)

Whoa. Come on.

(cockerel crows)

- (girl) What's up wi' her, Dad? - Uh, looks like a touch of flu.

It's my fault. Shouldn't have put 'em up in plane field.

That wind would cut a man in armour in half, let alone horse.

Come on.

Come on, owd girl.

- It's them ghosts that done it. - Ghosts? You read too many comics.

Run down and phone Mr Herriot, will ya? There's a good girl. Here you are.

Come on, Poly.

She'll be all right, won't she, Dad?

Come here.

Tha daft beggar, come here! Come out.

(cockerel clucks)

- There you go. - Ah.

Oh, watch him, Mr Herriot. He's a savage pecker if ever there was one.

He'll have thee eye out as soon as look at thee.

- Good Lord! - Ey up, ey up. Ey up, lad.

- It's a fine bird, Mr Roper. - Aye.

What's wrong with him?

- Well, he's lame. - Ah.

Couldn't catch a pullet if there were a guinea in it for him.

Argh!

Nothing wrong with his beak, eh?

- Is he lame in both feet? - Left 'un.

He's hopping around like a magpie.

I got him for 30 bob off Bob Wilson, I did.

Supposed to be a good 'un, but like this he's not worth half a crown, is he?

Hm.

Ah, yes. Bumble foot.

- You what? - Bumble foot, Mr Roper.

A stone or thorn has got between the toes, caused an abscess, and made him lame.

Don't worry. I know exactly what to do.

- You're not doing an operation? - Not an operation. I'll clean it up.

- Will it cost owt? - No more than half a crown, Mr Roper.

Hello, Mr Farnon.

Hello. I'm just off to Luke Benson's to have a look at his heifer.

Excuse me, Mr Roper.

- Tristan, it's half past ten. - I really do need a new alarm clock.

Or a kick up the backside. It was your turn to take the kids.

Yes, I know, and for that I'm truly sorry.

- Have you washed up? - I did the cooking.

Whoever cooked was excused washing-up.

Cooking? Baked beans. You burned those.

Yes, that's true. Tell you what, I'll cook again tonight.

- Coal. Did you get the coal? - I did take your messages, James.

Jack Scott has a pony with flu and Andrew's at the station.

- Who? - Andrew Bruce.

- What's he doing at the station? - He's come from London.

- Helen told me weeks ago to put him off. - Now who's letting people down?

- I'll turn you into a ruddy feather duster! - Tristan!

- Ow! - Sorry, Mr Herriot.

(carapproaches and stops)

(James) Andy, I'm so sorry. I really should've called.

It's been chaos as usual. My anniversary party has been called off.

- Called off? - Helen's been in bed with a slipped disc.

Oh, no. How is she?

Much better, but it'll be two weeks before she can get up.

I'm really sorry I didn't let you know.

I can't just go back on the next train without saying happy anniversary.

- Sounds to me like you need rescuing. - God, it's chaos.

I'm so far behind with the washing-up, we're using Granny's antique china.

I've taken a week off, if you want to take up the offer.

Take it up? How much do you charge?

Watch out for them holes, Mr Farnon. You don't wanna finish up on your arse.

- How are you, Luke? - You referring to my health or my money?

- How's business? - "Business"?

This farm's not a bloody business, it's a job.

- I hear you've got a calf that's scouring? - Aye, I have that.

Morning, Mr Gill.

(Luke) Hopping youth.

Look. He's not scattering that hen corn round, he's chucking it in lumps.

Wants his head read, he does. Calls hisself a farmer?

Couldn't farm a bloody back garden.

He knows nowt, and that's saying a lot for him.

- Live and let live, Luke. - Sometimes.

Hello, Mrs Benson.

- How long's she been like this? - Since yesterday.

Grab her head.

If she belonged to yon hopping youth, he wouldn't bother you.

- He'd have just left her to dry up hersen. - Yes, Luke. If you say so, Luke.

Hm. Well, if it is scouring, there's nothing much we can do except give her hay.

Absolutely no concentrates at all.

I'll pop back in a couple of days and see how she is.

Did you, uh... Did you hear about him losing a litter of pigs?

- No. When was that? - About a month back.

We didn't hear. He hadn't contacted us.

He wouldn't, would he? Sawdust for brains, him.

- Do you know why he limps like that? - No, Luke. You tell me.

He got run over in t'blackout by Geoff Preston's coal lorry.

- That's why he weren't called up. - And you were, I suppose?

Me? No. Reserved occupation, farming.

(cow moos)

(dog barks)

(James) Hello, Rip. There's a good dog.

Yes. Good boy.

- I thought he was gonna take your leg off. - Rip? No, we're friends.

- Morning, Mr Herriot. - Hello, Jack.

This is a friend of mine. Andrew Bruce, Jack Scott.

- How do you do, Mr Scott? - Pleased to meet you, sir.

How long's she been bad?

I brought them down this morning, but she's been bad for a few days.

I thought it better to have them here in t'warm than...

Well, no reason for them to die of cold, is there?

Hello, Poly.

- Uh, Roly. - Roly.

Hold her head, Jack, would you, please?

Thanks, Jack.

(horse splutters)

Sh, sh, sh, sh.

Is he from t'Ministry?

No. He's a banker.

- Oh, a banker, you say? - Nothing to worry about, Jack.

They're the same as us, only richer.

So, how's, uh...?

- Poly. - No chill? Not shivering or anything?

No, nowt. It's the first time Roly here has ever ailed.

Of two of 'em, I'd say she's stronger.

Good.

Well, it's high. Not that high.

I should never have put them in that field. It's me own fault. It's bitter up there.

I'll give her a shot of penicillin just to be on the safe side, eh?

- (squelching) - Oh, no.

Oh, hell.

I, uh... I should've warned you about it being a bit soft by door.

Where there's muck, there's brass. Eh, Andy?

In that case, Mr Scott's sitting on a gold mine.

- Mm. Smells good, Tris. - What is it?

I thought I'd welcome our guest with something from Escoffier - steak.

- Steak? - Black.

Flambeed with mushrooms.

- (yelps) James! - James, what?

- Shall I call the fire brigade? - It's every man for himself here, Andy.

Good try, Tris. I think you'll find Escoffier used brandy, not "ethyl alcohol".

- Andy, we are going to the Drover's. - Good idea.

- Tris, they don't serve pyromaniacs. - Who?

Anyway, you're baby-sitting.

- Whisky, Ted, please. - Whisky.

You know something? lf this was in the West End of London,

you wouldn't be able to move in here for spivs.

Pin tables, standing room only.

Why don't you tell Ted? This is a busy night for him.

Ah, James Herriot, the very man.

- May I? - Yes, of course. Evening, Vicar.

This is a friend of mine from London. Andrew Bruce, the Reverend Henty.

- How do you do? - How do you do?

Haven't seen you since Christmas, James.

How true. Animals show scant respect for Sundays, Vicar.

It's actually an animal I need to speak to you about. It's... it's Finbar.

Must be getting on a bit. The vicar's dog.

Had him 15 years, ever since I took this living.

The problem is, James, that like all God's creatures,

I'm afraid he's now fallen irretrievably into his dotage.

Poor old Finbar's faculties have now forsaken him completely.

He's sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste.

In fact, he's sans...

everything.

I'm afraid the time has come, James, for him to retire peacefully from the world.

Hm.

We're never very charitable to the old, are we?

- Can I...? - Whisky, please.

No water.

We'd like them to wander off without bothering us, and bury themselves.

- (Andrew) Double whisky. - Well, let it not be with Finbar, James.

He's been a faithful old dog.

- I'll bring him over tomorrow, if I may. - Of course.

- Round about five o'clock, if that'll suit. - (Andrew) Thank you very much.

May he depart with dignity, James.

Perhaps you'd be kind enough to say a few words?

Time, gentlemen, please.

Good God! It's brass-monkey weather all right, Mr Hopps.

I should've brought some bloody welding equipment.

These are Christian premises, Mr Farnon.

There's enough words in t'dictionary without cursing.

Terribly sorry, Mr Hopps. Just a slip of the tongue.

Aye, well, see to it you watch your language in future.

- There's no blaspheming in Heaven. - No.

- Which one is it? - The red Hereford at top.

But watch the manure, won't you?

- I beg your pardon? - Watch your feet in t'manure.

Oh, the manure. Yes, yes.

I'll certainly keep an eye on that, Mr Hopps, now you come to mention it.

(cow moos)

- Hell's bells, she's a bit tetchy, isn't she? - Aye, she's a touch lame.

- I'll have to keep an eye on this bugger. - Now now, Mr Farnon.

We don't say that word in church, do we?

Uh, I wouldn't do that, if I were you. She's sore. She won't like it.

It's all right, Mr Farnon.

Mr Hopps...

(cow moos)

Argh!

I know just how you feel, Mr Hopps. It's happened to me once or twice.

Right in...

privates, Mr Farnon.

She's eaten nowt at all for a day now.

Tony and Sheila wanted to stay up with her, but we have to send them to school.

Well, I'm pretty sure it's bronchitis. All right, Jack, we'll steam her.

Steam her?

Grilled, boiled or fried, that's all Londoners know.

What do you do?

- Get the wherewithal, Jack, would you? - Aye, Mr Herriot.

- We dig a pit. - A pit?

Hm. Roll your sleeves up, it's hard work.

The pit's gonna have to be at least four foot deep.

- The pony goes in the pit? - That's the easy part.

When you've dug it, you line it with bricks,

not to mention boiling gallons of water.

- (Jack) Right. - Oh.

Alternatively, you can do it this way.

- "Friar's balsam". - Old cures are best cures. Eh, Jack?

- Aye. Come on. - Come on.

- Aye. - Come on, come on. That's it.

That's right.

Andy, this'll do.

Rather moving. Near to tears, your vicar.

He'd been at the altar wine, more likely.

Right, can you manage? I've got to go and deal with old Gilby's ram before surgery.

Oh!

Andy, it's a bit like concrete this time of the year.

Frozen solid.

Has it been any better since Mr Herriot cleaned it up?

Better? (chuckles)

He's been running about like a wind-up train.

I've had to put him in a shed on his own.

It's either that or caponise him, Mr Roper.

That should be all right for a few days.

I wouldn't want to stop him treading.

After all, there's nowt like a good fertile egg with your bacon.

I'll say.

Hey, has thee heard about old Gill's missus?

- Gill? - You know Gill, don't tha?

That lame bloke lives next to Luke Benson.

- Oh, yes. - His missus has run off wi' cleaning man.

- Run off with who? - Man that comes round selling brushes.

She's packed her bags, taken her sheets, and set up wi' him in Leeds.

- Old Gill's in a right state! - I suppose Luke's over the moon about it?

Eh?

('Dick Barton - Special Agent" theme tune on radio)

(radio) While Jock and Snowey struggle to get out before the land mine detonates,

Dick's helicopterhas been sabotaged and he is powerless to rescue them.

Meanwhile...

Thanks. You're an angel. Where are the children?

- Having tea and listening to Dick Barton. - Have you given them beans again?

Look, Helen, I'm just a humble vet. I'm not a reincarnation of Mrs Beeton.

It's just they'll come out in spots, Tris. So will I.

Siegfried's got a lot to answer for.

He didn't have any choice. He had to go to that conference.

He's left me with all the dud jobs, farms you have to pack a mule to.

My love life's gone to pot. I'm being held hostage in the kitchen.

The only thing I've put my arms around is a laundry basket.

It is not a feeling I am unfamiliar with, Tris.

No. Sorry.

- Any calls? - Uh, yes.

Mr Hopps. Wants you to look at his cow.

- Not again. What's wrong with it? - He wouldn't tell me. He sounded coy.

Typical Hopps. It could be anything from a cold to a Caesarean!

What does he think we do? Drive around in furniture vans or something?

I think Calum can do that one, stop him moping around.

- Hello. - Hello.

- How are you feeling? - Much better for hearing Tris's difficulties.

- Anything for me? - Yes.

Jack Scott says his pony's started bumping into things.

Oh. That rules out bronchitis.

- He'd like you to go up and have a look. - Anything else?

Yes. Mr Wiggin. He says it's time to inject his bullocks again.

Tris, you wouldn't like to do Wiggin?

Hopps and Luke Benson are enough to last a lifetime.

You could do with a good laugh after putting Finbar down.

- This isn't another steaming joke, is it? - No. More entertaining than Bertram Mills.

- All right, Tris, what's for supper? - Seems self-evident.

Good God, no. That's just for children and invalids.

- Voila. - (James) What is it?

This, my friends, is the magical ingredient for tonight's feast - curry powder.

- Curry powder? - The best. Mr Ramaswamy's hot madras.

- Curried beans. - You're too young to be a widow.

Come on, now. You must've had curry in the RAF. You had it in the army, Andrew.

Yes. We had a thing in Africa we called a "Bangalore torpedo".

- Yes, but was it hot? - Yes, it was hot.

We used to use it for blowing holes in barbed wire.

- Drover's? - Drover's.

- Bye, darling. - Bye.

"What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare? No time..."

When we've tried and done our best, we get our cars like all the rest.

You old cynic. You just don't know how important it is to me, do you?

A moment's freedom from the bank, a pint with an old friend.

Your order, Mr Herriot.

A corned beef sandwich to round off the perfect day.

It's my turn.

Oh, good evening, Mr, uh...

Bruce. Hello, Vicar.

Can I get you something?

Whisky, please.

And a double whisky.

So was, uh...?

Was everything all right?

Oh, yes. Yes, it was very peaceful.

We, uh, said a few words and then we buried him.

Nice plot. I think you'd like it. Very quiet.

- By the roses. - Ah.

You are a very benignant man, Mr Bruce.

There is just one other small matter. I forgot to mention it to James earlier.

What do you, uh, charge for the, uh...?

I really don't know. That's a little outside my province.

What do you charge?

Good morning, Mr Hopps.

- Oh, it's you, Mr Buchanan. - Yes, it's me, Mr Hopps.

- Young Mr Farnon not well, then? - No, no.

He's been struck down by a lightning bolt for using foul and blasphemous language.

Oh.

Mr Buchanan, let's not have any mockery, please.

Forgive me. Mrs Herriot told me you've got a cow that needed some treatment.

Aye, that's right.

- Is she off her food? - No.

- Is she all right in herself? - Aye.

Well, what's the matter, then?

I thought you might know that when you looked at her.

Watch the manure, won't you?

- This one, then? - Aye, that's her.

Well, there isn't anything obvious wrong with her.

Had you noticed any symptoms at all?

- Well? - She's... She's not...

- (quietly) ..coming into season. - Pardon?!

- Coming into season. - Oh, not coming into season.

Why didn't you tell Mrs Herriot?

I couldn't very well tell a lady Rebecca weren't showing signs.

She's a vet's wife, not a nun.

If you had told her, there's a new injection I could use

especially for cows that won't come into season.

Course, it's the only thing I haven't brought with me.

- Can't you do owt about it, then? - Maybe.

Could you get me some hot water, soap and a towel, please?

- Morning, Wilf. - Morning, Mr Herriot.

- This is a friend of mine, Mr Bruce. - Sir.

- Hello, Wilf. - Mr Wiggin around?

He's around somewhere, but it might be best if you get on with it on your own.

Absolutely.

- This shouldn't take long. - (Andrew) What are you injecting for?

His pasture's contaminated - clostridium infection.

It can be fatal. I inject them every spring, don't I?

- Aye, you do that, Mr Herriot. - (man sings)

Music Where the deer and the antelope play

Music Where seldom is heard

Music A discouraging word

Music And the skies are not cloudy

Music All day

Morning, Mr Herriot.

Fine morning for doing a bit of roping, wouldn't you say?

Morning. This is a friend of mine from London, Mr Bruce.

Howdy, stranger. Don't get many city folk around these parts, tha knows.

How do you do, Mr Wiggin?

- You ready for these ornery critters? - Ready when you are.

Then what are we waiting for? (chuckles)

Ya-hoo!

Is he an American?

Oh, you watch this, brothers and pardners.

Tarnation!

I'll get you, I assure ya.

Here we go!

Oh...

- Oh, bugger it! - Keep out of the dad-blasted road, Wilf!

Just look. I've gotta start all over again now.

(groans)

- Does he know what he's doing? - (American accent) Sure he does.

He lassoed thousands of them in America, didn't he, Wilf?

In his sleep, more like it.

Gol-darnit.

Dad-blasted thing has gone and got itself caught around a horn up there.

Fetch a ladder, will you, Wilf?

We should've brought some sandwiches and a flask of tea.

Where did you learn to rope like that?

When I were a kid, I went to America. Got working on a ranch in Texas.

Had longhorns in them days, tha knows.

Throw your rope, you couldn't miss the darn things.

Get your stuff ready, Mr Herriot. This one's for you.

Oh, you... you ornery critter, you.

Oh!

Got ya! Ha ha!

I got ya, you ornery critter!

(giggles)

I got you.

You ornery critter.

Here we go, critter.

Come on, you critter!

Whoa!

- (James) All right, Mr Wiggin? - Doggone it! I just couldn't hold the thing.

Reckon I better go and sit myself down in the house for a while.

You'll have to catch the pesky lot yourselves.

It's an ill wind, guv'nor. We can get on now.

Maybe that sore arse of his will make him forget that bloody lasso.

Pesky critters.

Right, Mr Hopps, hold her tail, please.

I really like doing rectal examinations before lunch.

Gives me quite an appetite.

And what have we here?

Feels like an ovary.

Yes, it's an ovary.

And on we go to the uterus.

Oh, you're right enough, she's not pregnant.

So back we go to the ovaries.

And what can I feel this time, Mr Hopps?

I... I don't know, Mr Buchanan.

I can feel something which appears to be preventing

the normal initiation of the oestral cycle -

a corpus luteum.

It's very slippery, you know? Very slippery indeed.

Do you have to tell me all this, Mr Buchanan?

Oh, yes, because this way you can picture exactly what it's like inside.

And now,

I'm going to squeeze the base of the bulge,

if I can reach it through the anal wall,

and, with a bit of luck, like a wee shooting star,

it'll go hurtling off into space.

There she goes.

Nothing to it.

And there you have it, Mr Hopps.

She should come on in a couple of days and you can get her served straightaway.

Oh...

(chuckles)

Started yesterday afternoon bumping into old Poly there.

Her eyes were rolling in her head. It were like she were drunk or something.

Oh, heck, she's a grand lass, is old Roly.

If owt happened to her, it would break lad's heart.

What is it, old girl, eh? What is it?

I should never have left them out in t'plane field. It's me own fault.

It is not your fault, Jack.

Trouble is, I'm not the world's greatest authority on horses.

- Could she have eaten some mouldy hay? - No. No, no.

Good clean meadow hay.

- Well, it looks like some form of poison. - I won't send her to knacker's, Mr Herriot.

It hasn't come to that, Jack. Not yet.

Well, I'll look at my notes. The best thing is to ring up Siegfried Farnon in London.

He'll know what's wrong with her.

- Any luck? - Well, I've got a few ideas.

Time isn't exactly on my side.

You're saying there's a good chance she might die?

Nature might cure her. Or kill her.

A disease known is half cured.

- Read into that what you will. - (phone rings)

Darrowby 385.

Oh, hello, Luke. What can I do for you?

- Tris, I've done your washing-up. - Thanks, Andy.

Hang on. I can hear him now. Tris, Luke Benson.

- No, James, I can't. I just can't. - Come on.

Can you imagine him now Gill's wife's run off?

- You are looking after him, Tris. - Say I've gone to lreland a week early.

(imitates crackling)

It's all right. I'm ringing Siegfried.

Trunks? This is Darrowby 385. I'd like a London number, please.

Yes. Hyde Park, 3051 .

Yes, of course. Thank you.

- Do you want to talk to him? - He won't be there. He'll be on the town.

You know how it is with conferences.

You get some old buffer droning on about genetic interpretation of hybrid vigour,

before you know it, it's past closing time.

So, no chance to "do the town", then?

Well, you know, I get out and about a little bit.

Uh, I might just catch one play if I have the time. Nothing special, you know?

- Oh? Which one's that? - Well, um...

Peggy Ashcroft in Electra at the Old Vic, actually.

Peggy Ashcroft, Electra, Old Vic. Nothing special?

I knew it! He's supposed to be at a conference and he's going to the theatre!

- I think you're very lucky. - Yes, I am quite lucky, James.

Tell me about Jack Scott's little pony mare.

Blindness, lack of balance, no appetite... It does sound as if she's been poisoned.

Has Jack Scott got any pesticides around?

None, not where the ponies have been.

Oh. Lead?

No mines, no paint, tarpaulins, dressings. Absolutely nothing.

Do you know where she was when she got sick?

- At the top of Jack's land. - Have a scout round there.

What if it is lead poisoning?

Well, you'll just have to treat her with Epsom salts and potassium iodide,

and a very large dose of prayer.

The main thing is to find out where it came from. James, I've got to rush.

- It's all right, Siegfried. - Bye.

- Mustn't keep Peggy Ashcroft waiting! - I presume you heard that?

Sounds as if we've got another party on the line. Let me know what you find.

- I'll do that. Bye-bye. - I hope there's a pillar in front of the seat!

Front row of the stalls, actually,Tristan. Bang in the middle. Bye!

- Some conference. - (Andrew) Let's mosey into town.

- Where are you going? - Andrew's taking us to the pictures.

- What's on? - Road to Chihuahua.

- Who's in it? - Texas...

- Dalton, Junior? - Not Peggy Ashcroft?

- (Jimmy) Who's she? - I'm coming to see that.

Tris, you're on duty.

(Western music)

(gunshot)

(gasps)

(Andrew) You wouldn't get away with that at the Old Vic, you know?

(man) Yippee!

(James giggles)

Oh! Oh!

(all) Sh! Sh!

Don't shush me, pardners! (imitates gun sounds)

(James) I always knew that travel broadened the mind!

Thou art nimble on thee feet, Mr Farnon, I'll give thee that.

It's more than you can say for some round here.

Well, yes. Ballroom-dancing lessons were compulsory where I went to school.

Aye, I suppose there are those that were lucky enough to have had an education.

Hurray, Mr Herriot's here! Come on.

Torch, please, Andy.

Come on, Roly. Up you come, old girl. That's a good girl.

Let's have a look, come on.

What's up, Mr Herriot? ls she going to die?

Not if I have anything to do with it.

I had a word with Mr Farnon. I'm gonna treat her for lead poisoning.

I don't understand it. She's been out in plane field for three months.

There's nowt there apart from a lean-to and a couple of sheets of iron.

- It's them ghosts that have done it. - Enough.

- Are there any rifle ranges around here? - Up there, there isn't even a lead soldier.

Give her medication four times a day to get the lead salts out of her, if it is lead.

And, uh... if it's not?

Then we're back to square one.

Look, can you show me the field? I've got to know what it is.

- Can we come wi' ya, Dad? - No.

- Please. - We don't want you two under our feet.

- It's all right, Jack. - Oh, come on, then. But be good, mind.

She's got worse. Nothing I've done has been any good.

You must give her something, otherwise she's gonna look like a prisoner of war,

or even yon hopping youth there.

- 103. - Sounds as if I could boil kettle on her.

It is rather high. I'll give her some sulfamezathine. That should do the trick.

If I were you, I'd move them out, put them in another box,

give this a going-over with disinfectant.

Otherwise, it'll be back again inside a week.

Aye, I'll do that. I don't want my box looking like yon hopping youth's.

- Yes, well... - Hey, heard about his missus, have you?

Yes, Luke, she ran off with the brush man.

Aye. Some people have all the luck.

- What do you mean? - I wish someone would take my bugger.

- (James) Bit bleak here. - (Andrew) It's not exactly the Oval.

- Why is it called the "playing field"? - It's not "playing field", it's "plane field".

- I beg your pardon? - It's not "playing field", it's "plane field".

- Sorry, I think I'm missing something. - Townies, eh, Jack?

They mean "plain", as in flat land, right?

No. "Plane", as in aeroplane.

I see.

- Why's it called that? - A German plane crashed here in t'war.

- (James) I didn't know that. - It were burnt up.

But they reckon there were three men in it.

- The field's haunted with their ghosts. - Don't talk daft, Sheila.

- Do you know where it crashed? - Over there, but there's nowt there now.

- Shall we have a look? - Aye.

Nowt'll grow there, that's how I know where it was.

You can still find little bits of plane if you dig about.

- (Sheila) I found one, Mr Herriot. - (mud squelches)

(James) The ponies have been round here, all right.

- Here's something. - What?

Cor! What do you think that is?

It's a bit of shock absorber.

Oh, look at that, Tony. There we are - a souvenir.

Thank you, Mr Herriot.

(Andrew) Jim, come and look at this.

(James) It's a battery. It's the plane's battery.

God, it must've hit the ground like a cannonball.

Look at it. It's falling apart with lead oxide.

There's the source of your poison, Jack.

Is that it? ls that what's done it?

- I'm sure it is. She must've been licking it. - Will Roly be all right?

"A disease known is half cured." Isn't that right, James?

Most of the time. I'm sure she'll be fine, Tony.

I thought you were a vet, not Sherlock Holmes!

I'd never have found that thing in ten years.

You make sure you get the whole area fenced off, Jack.

Right, you know what to do. Sorry, I've got to go.

- What's the hurry? - Anniversary. I need something for Helen.

Just look at it, eh?

God only knows what else there is under our feet.

(laughter on radio)

(man) Blimey. Quick, make a final signal to the captain ofthe Greenwich ferry.

(man #2) What shall I say, sir?

(man) "Have you vacancies for two ex-officers and one ex-Wren?"

(cheering/applause)

Hello!

- No luck? - I don't believe this. They're shut, too.

It's early-closing day. I can't even get Helen chocolates. What am I going to do?!

What I've been trying to tell you to while you've been driving like Stirling Moss.

- What? - Head for the station.

- The station? - Yes, the place with all the trains.

(laughs sarcastically)

(Andrew) Thank you.

Home, James.

What have you got there? Racing pigeons?

- Oh, no, it's my farewell present. - No, it's my divorce-prevention kit.

- The city slicker has done it again. - Done what? What's all this about?

It's James' and Helen's wedding anniversary.

- I suggest we take this upstairs. Plates. - Right.

Don't forget the glasses. Uh, here.

And when Tristan said he was making sandwiches, I thought you'd forgotten.

(Andrew) That was just a blind to keep you off the scent.

Oh, Andy, it's beautiful!

- It's Maltese lace, isn't it? Look, darling. - It's smashing.

Oh, come here this instant.

- Well, 13 years is lace, isn't it? - Yes.

Thank you. Thank you for everything.

I only hope one day I can bring you the silver tea set.

Happy anniversary.

- Happy anniversary. - Thanks, Andy. Darling.

('Dick Barton - Special Agent" theme tune on radio)

(man) The Strikergang have assembled a replica ofthe rocket in Hidden Valley.

As theyprepare for the launching, Dick andAirman Joyce escape from...

Happy anniversary, Helen.

..too late to prevent Zentnerpressing the starting mechanism. While Dick closes...