All language subtitles for New Tricks S02E04 Old and Cold.DVDRip.NonHI.en.ACORN

Thank you.

Oh, my God, that
looks amazing. Wow!

- Thank you.
- Cheers.

Cheers. Big pants?

- Big pants.
- Sexy.

- Mother's advice.
- Mother knows best.

"Never go into bike sheds with
boys." "Don't scrimp on moisturiser."

Oh, yeah, and "Beware of tabloid
newspaper editors who buy you lobster,

- "they always want something."
- Well, this time Mother Pullman was wrong.

This editor wants to
give you something.

A coup. A case. A
career-enhancing collar.

No, thanks, I'm on
a sleaze-free diet.

- Well, what if I had evidence of a terrible crime?
- Then go to the regular police.

It's old. It's cold. It's
right up your street.

Ah-ha!

- Wow! That's Kitty Campbell!
- It is her restaurant.

She looks great.

- Do you want me to introduce you?
- No!

- Kitty.
- Christopher.

- Kitty, this is Superintendent Sandra Pullman.
- Hello.

- Delightful suit, darling.
- Thank you.

I hear congratulations
are in order.

- You! Don't go spoiling my surprise.
- My lips are sealed.

I won't chat. Got a table of
well-wishers. Need a little charm assault.

Tatania, another bottle of
champagne, please. On the house.

- What surprise?
- Birthday Honours list.

- Dame Kitty.
- Really?

You know, when she started
cooking on TV in the 60s,

she was part of a husband
and wife double-act.

Kitty and Bertie. Cooking
With The Campbells.

Yeah, my mum and dad used
to watch them every single week.

They were heartbroken
when Bertie died.

What if I were to tell you
that I had incontrovertible proof

that poor little innocent
debutante Kitty Campbell

murdered her husband?

♪ It's all right, it's okay

♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey

♪ It's all right,
I say, it's okay

♪ Listen to what I say

♪ It's all right, doing fine

♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine

♪ It's all right,
I say, it's okay

♪ We're getting to
the end of the day ♪

"Of course it's not murder.
How could it be murder?

"I live with a man who eats and
sleeps murder. I know murder, you don't."

- That's what I wanted to say to her.
- Ah! Bugger!

She had one of those
earrings through her lip,

and another one through her tongue.
I mean, that can't be hygienic, can it?

- Yes!
- I didn't sign her petition.

But I did buy chicken
instead of lamb.

Organic was so expensive,
so I bought free-range.

If you're going to be murdered, at
least you should have a run-around first.

Right. The potatoes are
cooked, the salad is dressed

- and we'll just let the roast rest.
- Rest?

Well, you should
always let a roast rest.

Yeah, the heat of cooking.
Give it time to calm down.

- I'm starving. How long?
- 20 minutes.

20 minutes? What are we
gonna do for 20 minutes?

No.

No, no, no, no.

Oh, I never could
read your writing.

Bloody spidery scrawl. Is that
two tablespoons or two teaspoons?

Heading this year's Honours List is TV
cook and homemaking guru Kitty Campbell

who is awarded the title
of Dame Kitty Campbell.

We've all worked real hard to
give the company a global identity.

And this is the most lovely
recognition we could ever wish.

I know that it's me who
gets to call herself Dame,

but I hope that other women will
see this as a positive message.

It's not just a triumph
for me, but for all women.

Chickens having heart attacks?

It's not right, is it?

- No.
- Makes you wonder what we're doing to nature.

Hmm.

It's on the table.

Brian!

It's not as though it's
never happened before.

- How long were we married?
- Eight years.

Yeah, but it never happened
in all that time, did it?

- It happened on our wedding night.
- Yeah, but I was paralytic.

- Yeah?
- Well, I'm not drunk now, am I?

- It's no big deal.
- Not to you, it's not.

This chicken's cold!

Esther, this chicken's
cold, and the peas are...

Esther!

Esther!

Esther! Esther!

Mary once cooked her Cinnamon
Bread And Butter Pudding.

- And?
- I thought I was going to cry.

She's a British institution. How
could the News of the Screws do this?

It's the knighthood.

The bigger you get, the more jealous
nutters crawl out of the woodwork.

- Don't worry, mate, it might never happen.
- It didn't.

Kitty Campbell?

Sandra has it on good authority
that Kitty Campbell killed her husband.

- Old Bertie?
- Exactly.

Yeah, she's a witch. A
bland old schoolmarm

with about as much
culinary creativity as a whelk.

Whoops! Daddy Bear didn't get
honey on his porridge this morning?

Well, her books, they're so
rigid. Like instruction manuals.

- The ice queen.
- I'd give her one.

- Jack!
- Well, sorry, it has to be said.

That woman single-handedly ruined this
country's palate with her banal recipes.

- She's a very attractive lady.
- She's 65 if she's a day!

- And?
- Right, sorry.

- Er, thinking man's crumpet.
- She has class.

- Like sleeping with your nanny.
- I would.

- If I could.
- Okay, this is the CID report.

Now, they had to
investigate his death

because he was a young man in the public
eye who died suddenly of a heart attack.

But they weren't very thorough, and they
took the coroner's report at face value.

I suppose 'cause she
was a TV personality,

a beautiful, tragic, society
widow with a very important family.

- But they couldn't wait to close the file.
- You can't wait to reopen it.

- World famous celebrity chef. Who wouldn't?
- McConnell's a creep.

Don't let him use you
to validate his story.

Don't worry about McConnell,
he's irrelevant. Leave him to me.

Now, what we've got to do is
find out who his mystery source is.

We'll go and see McConnell.

Jack, you can check out
Bertie's old medical records

and Brian can work his magic...

Where is Brian?

- Trying Brian again?
- I rang the office, it's still on the answer phone.

- Home?
- No reply.

That's very odd.
He's never late.

Kitty Campbell.
He'll be impressed.

- He'll never have heard of her.
- Oh, come on. Everybody's heard of...

Talk of the devil. Brian, have
you ever heard of Kitty Campbell?

He hasn't even heard of Abba. I showed
him a picture and everything. Nothing.

We worked out the last time
he went to the pictures was 1959.

- Ben Hur.
- Okay, okay, now calm down.

Just try and calm down.
What did the surgeon say?

- Surgeon?
- Well, that's good. That's normal.

- Look, I'm coming over. Just hang on.
- What's happened?

You'd better drop
me at a cab rank.

We've managed to reattach
the ulnar collateral ligament.

But everything has to be kept
super-still to re-grow some tissue.

And you still have
some mild concussion.

- Do you want to go home?
- Oh, yes, please.

If I let you go home, it's
total bed rest. Understood?

You'll be in charge, Mr
Lane. You're the boss.

She's not to get up and
do anything. Is that a deal?

Brian.

Brian, I'm all right.

I'm all right.

Don't you resent having to come
here? Play these little games?

Don't let it get to you, Gerry. You
never know what these people will turn up.

They dig in some
very mucky places.

Sad, debasing and
extremely insulting to women.

Nice tits, though.

Look, of course not.

Impersonating a prison
officer is not a stunt,

it's an issue of security.

Tell them we're claiming
public interest immunity.

- Inspector Pullman.
- Mr McConnell, this is Gerry Standing.

Whose life are you
intending to ruin this week?

So, have you looked
at the original CID files?

Not doing anything until you
give us the identity of your source.

- I think we've already had this conversation.
- Poor old Bertie.

Oh, he used to
really crack me up.

"I think a chilly Chablis would
complement excellently well,

"don't you, pumpkin?"

- "Oh, do let it breathe, pickle."
- No, it was a tragedy when he died.

Kitty Campbell was all right when
there were two of them, but once he...

She murdered him.

Postmortem says that Bertie died
of a heart attack. Natural causes.

See? You have looked at the
files. I have a very good source,

very close to both of them
at the time of Bertie's death.

He says that Kitty murdered
her husband to avoid a scandal.

- To avoid one? What?
- Claims to have the murder weapon.

Who is this source?

Now, why don't you do
some digging for me first?

You can access a different flavour of
information. Then we can pool our resources.

- I get my splash. You get your collar.
- Oi!

- She just asked you a question.
- All right, Gerry.

- You might want to put a muzzle on him.
- Oh, he just remembers the good old days.

When the police had more
power than the tabloids.

You must be very old.

So this is the modern approach
to police and media relations, is it?

They bully us, and we go
and do their dirty work for them.

I'm afraid Tom
Gill isn't in today.

Can someone else from
the news desk be of any help?

No, it's okay. Could you just
make sure that his assistant knows

that Superintendent Pullman came by
to talk about the Kitty Campbell story?

- I'll mail that up to the news desk.
- Lovely job.

How is that gonna get us
the name of the source?

These places are all
ears and totally bent.

There are people working here who make their
real money by tipping off rival papers.

So, when the rumour of
Kitty Campbell starts rolling,

- the McConnells start to panic.
- How come you know so much about the tabloids?

News of the World news
desk, can I help you?

Guess what I've just heard?

- Lift! Oh, God, sorry.
- No, don't touch it. Don't touch it!

Brian, why don't you go and get
some water and something to read?

- What, case files, you mean?
- No, for Esther.

Oh. Right. Yeah, yeah, right.

Now, Esther, put your good arm
round my shoulder. Come on. Right.

Now, one, two, three,
up. That's it, now.

Just pop this there.

Now, let me slip this
pillow under your knees.

Ohh.

Gently does it. There we
are. There now, that better?

Oh.

- Oh, much.
- Stop you sliding forward.

Oh, I must look such a mess.

- I've still got a bit of dried blood in my hair.
- Would you like me to wash it for you?

- No, it's all right.
- I used to wash Mary's. And condition it.

Maybe tomorrow.

- You got your pills?
- No, I'm fine.

And Brian? Will he be fine?

He'll rise to the challenge.

Right. I got you
a bottle of water,

a jigsaw, Sunday's
papers and your knitting.

- Knitting?
- Yeah.

And... da-da!

Rescued them years ago
from the equipment skip.

You grab that one. Hang on.

Esther-Esther, from Brian-Brian.
Come in, Esther. Over.

Press that big button on the
handset when you want to speak.

- Hello, Brian.
- Yes!

Wait, wait. I said no onions. Some
of us have got a social life, you know.

Yeah, I am still here, yeah.

- Tomatoes, please.
- Okay, fire away.

Oh, really?

Well, that's great. Yeah,
thanks a lot. Bye-bye.

You know, if McConnell's source was
good, then he wouldn't bother with us.

He'd just go ahead and print it.
He's got doubts. Major doubts.

Have you ever heard of a barrister
called Sir Barnaby Fitzharris QC?

- No.
- Kitty's daddy.

Very posh and very rich.

So if she did knock off old
Bertie, it wasn't for his wedge.

No news from The
Bonking Times, then?

Oh, jungle drums are drumming.
It's only a matter of time.

Yes. McConnell. Men are so
predictable. Don't you find it boring?

Mr McConnell.

Oh, so now he wants to talk?

Lavender oil. Mix a few drops with
water, spray it on her pillow, and it...

- What's all this?
- Ice cream.

When I had me tonsils out in
hospital, it was all I could manage.

She's bedridden.

Her moods, her diet, her
constitution, it all changes.

- Oh, better get her some prunes, then.
- Put this lot back, eh? Go on.

And these. And that.

- I've got to feed her.
- You give her this stuff, you'll kill her.

Have you seen the salt content?
She'll have arteries like cast iron.

When was the last time
you cooked a meal for her?

- Well, the kitchen's her territory, normally.
- Never?

- Things all right between you two?
- Yeah. Fine.

- Well, she seems a bit, I don't know.
- What?

- Well, she gets ratty when I don't listen.
- To what?

Her talking.

Chips are all
right, aren't they?

Sensitive issues, my arse.

Kitty Campbell could be innocent
of anything and everything,

and the red tops will still
crucify her for sport and sales.

Yeah, accusing a national celebrity
of murdering her nearest and dearest

is a major bit of
shit-stirring, isn't it?

I'll bet you anything you like
this is all about money and power.

We're gonna meet his source,
and he's gonna turn out to be

some fat, fading
businessman who's just jealous.

Jealous because she made a
fortune without the help of a man.

- Do you reckon?
- Yeah. Fat, fading, resentful.

- Have I got salad in my teeth?
- No.

Impotent, woman-hating, sexist.

He's working on stage.

Ms Pullman, Mr Standing,

allow me to introduce the
one and only Binky Baxter.

Enchanté.

Being a personal assistant
isn't everybody's cup of tea,

but you obviously
enjoyed your job.

Well, it was more glamorous
than being an air hostess.

Even with my legs, that
wasn't about to happen.

I mean, "Personal Assistant
to Mr and Mrs Campbell".

- Full on-screen credit. She insisted.
- So you and Kitty were close?

Oh, yes. She loved me then.

She called me
her "favourite fairy".

Put me in charge of everything.

She even got me to water down Bertie's Scotch
to make sure he wasn't plastered on set.

- So he really was a drinker, then?
- Steaming, darling. Morning, noon and night.

But sweet. Never a nasty drunk.

- You're making it sound like she was the boss.
- Oh, no question.

- So how did Bertie feel about that?
- He couldn't be trusted.

Bertie, bless him, couldn't
wipe his own arse without a map.

- But she trusted you?
- She trusted me in everything.

Until she caught me with
Bertie's knob in my mouth.

- Very nice.
- Oh, please.

If it wasn't my mouth,
it'd be someone else's.

What did she do?

She got the producer,
Larry, of all people, to fire me.

- How humiliating.
- And what did Bertie do?

Got pissed and went to Ascot.

What did Bertie ever do?

- Jack Halford?
- Yes, guv.

Thank you.

- Where do you want this?
- All the salad stuff over there.

- What, just dump it over here?
- Yeah, yeah. I'll sort them out.

I know where they go.

Esther-Esther from
Brian-Brian. Over.

Esther-Esther from
Brian-Brian. Over.

What?

No, love, you're supposed
to say, "What? Over."

- What? Over.
- Nothing. Just to let you know we're back.

Over and out.

- Right, shall we get some dinner on?
- What's this stuff?

Bertie Campbell.

Postmortem, GP records and
some tapes of their TV shows.

Shall we?

- Binky, tell them about the bottle.
- Oh, yeah.

She threw a big bottle of perfume
at me. Givenchy, Eau de Plumage.

A great big square thing.
She split my head open.

Was she ever violent
towards Bertie?

Not that I saw. Well, see, he was
all heart and she was all money.

She got me the sack, took
temptation out of his way.

But Bertie, bless him,
developed a taste for cottaging.

Loved the risky stuff. This
was 1965, for heaven's sake.

Men went to work in bowler
hats. Women still wore corsets.

No such word as "gay". It was
"queer", "bender", "bummer".

"Poof", "fairy", "faggot"?

Yeah.

Nothing as sweet as..."gay".

G dot A dot Y.

Good As You, honey.

That didn't come
till much later.

Homosexuality was illegal.

The rags would have had
a field day, especially mine.

The Campbells would
have been ruined.

He'd been under the
same GP for years.

And then, suddenly, a few months before
he died, he switched to Dr Stephen Froy.

Treated for a variety of
minor stuff, including asthma.

Well, the postmortem has the cause
of death as cardio-respiratory failure.

A bit vague.

Well, that could be caused by
just about anything, couldn't it?

From electric shock to, I
don't know, blocked arteries.

Quite. Toxicology's even vaguer.

Yeah, well, those were
the days. Oh, listen to this.

There's no mention of asthma...

Brian-Brian from
Esther-Esther. Come in, Brian.

There's no asthma with his
old doctor, then two, four, six,

eight entries with the new
one, where he's prescribed...

Brian-Brian from
Esther-Esther. Can you...

Brian-Brian, from
Esther-Esther. Come in, Brian.

Over.

Kitty Campbell hardly strikes
me as a potential murderess.

Hell hath no fury...

Oh, she didn't give a rat's
rectum about being scorned.

She was getting
enough elsewhere.

She just didn't want to see
Bertie cook the golden goose.

- Why didn't you tell the truth 40 years ago?
- I should have.

I regret it now, but no
one would have listened.

She was a high-class lady with
the biggest show on television

and I was a pretty bourgeois
little poof with an axe to grind.

- So why now?
- Well, times have changed.

And because she built a
business on the back of murdering

a confused and
rather lovely man,

and she's about to get the
highest honour in the land?

Tell them how she did it.

Let's take a look at this
wonderful array of dishes

that we're going to
show you how to prepare.

Now, it's my belief that any wife,
no matter how new she is to marriage

and the job of running
a home, could and...

- He's half-cut again.
- Pished.

An impressive and eye-catching
dinner for her husband's boss. Bertie?

Oh, rather.

It was all live in
those days, you know.

There were no edits or re-takes.

Get half a bottle of this
Châteauneuf du Pape down his collar,

and you'll plonk yourself...

He's staucious. - Is he?

Well, he's swaying.

- Now first, let's look at some teeny-tiny starters...
- That's just the sets.

- Or "amuse bouche" as the French...
- The golden age of television.

Excuse me, darling. If you'll just
excuse me for a second. Thank you.

See that look she gave him?

Curdle milk.

Right. Now, this
wonderful creation

is something I like to
call Saucisson Supreme.

- At least we now know what we're working on.
- You'll go through all the evidence and files?

- I'll see what we can do.
- Good, 'cause I wanna run with this on Sunday.

- You what?
- Sunday. I'm running with it, whatever.

- There's other papers sniffing around.
- You haven't got any proof.

- I've got sworn testimony, his word.
- It could all be fantasy.

Maybe. I don't think so. You
get a feel for these things.

When Kitty Campbell finds out
you're gonna run, she'll injunct.

I'll give her a call
Saturday night for comment.

If she wants to appeal, I've got
QCs coming out of my backside.

Best place for 'em.

- Revenge, remember, is a dish best served cold.
- And I hope it chokes you.

Enchanté.

- Kitty Campbell killed Bertie Campbell?
- That's what the man said.

Though when I say
"man", I use the term...

Cardio-respiratory failure is
what the postmortem says.

Caused by?

Possibly caused by a genetic
history of cardia arrhythmia.

Dicky ticker.

Lots of people have
arrhythmia and don't die from it.

Yeah. Me.

Unless something triggers or
aggravates a traumatic reaction.

Like unsuitable medication.

- Administered in excessive doses.
- Inhaler?

Well, why is this unsuitable?

Well, Binky said the asthma
medicine, aetheraline, is dangerous.

Yeah, but what we don't understand is
that it was prescribed by Bertie's doctor.

No, her doctor, Dr Froy.

He switched his doctor. She complained
he wasn't getting proper treatment.

Right. She made him
change to her doctor,

who prescribed him aetheraline, which
later proved to be clinically dangerous.

It was taken off the market two
years later. "Inadequately tested."

There were misconduct lawsuits.

Yeah, Binky said that it was implicated
in a series of fatal heart attacks

- in asthma sufferers, and eventually banned.
- But that was two years later.

- How could she know it was dodgy back then?
- Well, she couldn't. Even the doctors didn't know.

But Binky says she forced
him to take it every day.

Bullied him into taking a couple
of blasts before doing the show.

You believe all this? 'Cause his
previous doctor found no sign of asthma.

I don't know what to believe.
Yesterday, she was a national treasure.

Today, she's an adulterous, scheming
murderess with a pathological power complex.

Sounds about right.

But how could she have known that
aetheraline would have killed Bertie?

Binky could be trying
to pull a publicity stunt.

- I mean, grab some tabloid cash.
- No, Jack.

He owns the biggest stage prop
company in London. He's loaded.

But she has an alibi
for the night he died.

She was giving an after-dinner
speech to a bunch of law students.

Yeah, but if what
Binky says is true,

then she didn't actually
have to be there to kill him.

What if she lied to Dr
Froy about Bertie's asthma?

Bertie wouldn't have
dared contradict her.

- We'd better go and see her.
- And say what?

Ask her if her husband's
gay lover's accusations

of premeditated murder are true?

- This I've got to see.
- Not you.

No, you're on Brian watch.

If Esther stays alone with
him much longer, she'll starve.

- Darling?
- Yes.

Darling, I said to crush the garlic.
No, no, no, that's all chopped.

She's doing a coarse country
pâté, with onion jam and cornichons.

- She was a bit horny in her day, wasn't she?
- Still is, according to Jack.

Yeah, well, Jack's target demographic
stretches a bit further than mine.

Rather, take this
cheeky little Armagnac.

It's got a body on it
like an Irish navvy.

- Bertie pissed again?
- Rat-arsed.

Darling, darling, darling, why don't we leave
that now, 'cause we need some for the pâté.

- Normandy in a glass, darling.
- Just put it down. That's right.

Now, why don't you
have the sausage meat,

and how about you put all this garlic
into there and stir it around for me?

- Right.
- Right, darling. Thank you.

I shall be the skivvie.

Right, come on. What we
doing for Esther's dinner?

I thought cheese on
toast with bacon and beans

- followed by a tub of yoghurt.
- Nah. Not on my watch, you're not.

Come on. In the kitchen, you.

Don't forget, viewers, always...

Let's see what we've
got in here, shall we?

- Oh, that makes a good start.
- Chicken?

- Bulb of fennel.
- Fennel?

Yeah, green beans,
lovely. In season.

Flat leaf parsley. Now, that is
lovely with a lean chicken breast.

Oh, organic clover honey...

and sesame seeds!

Do you see where
I'm going with this?

- No.
- Warm salad.

Glazed honey seed chicken
breast and green beans and fennel.

- What can you taste?
- Um...

- Basil?
- It's pesto, Mr Halford.

Of course you can taste basil,
but what's the other flavour?

A high note. Sharp.
Lifting the palate.

- Lemon?
- Close. Lime.

Hard little Portuguese
limes. Sharp and fresh.

It counteracts the dull notes
of the oil and the parmesan.

You haven't
answered my question.

Did I murder my husband?
Or was my husband gay?

We're just trying to do our job. And, if
needs be, protect you from the media.

Protect me? I have survived
the death of my husband,

over 40 years in the
entertainment business,

two aggressive takeover
bids on my company,

breast cancer,

and just about every
manifestation of jealousy,

both private and professional,
that you could care to mention.

Do you really think I
need your protection?

Well, maybe protection
wasn't the right word.

Please, Miss Campbell,
don't take this personally.

Well, how am I
supposed to take it?

- You're suggesting I murdered my husband.
- We're not suggesting it.

We've had testimony and
evidence passed on to...

Binky Baxter was a grubby little parasite
with ideas way, way above his station.

- Still is.
- Why did you make Bertie change his GP?

Because I loved him. Because
I wanted the very best for him.

Because I believe that's
exactly what a wife should do,

- put her husband first.
- Was Bertie asthmatic when you met?

Are you married, Superintendent?

- No.
- Somehow I'm not surprised.

- How long have you been married?
- Forever.

And you've never
done this before?

Well, I've made her soup
and, you know, toast and that

- when she's been sick.
- What, homemade soup?

No, tinned.

- Dear Lord.
- See, I don't get that.

I mean, I don't
get the difference.

Why go to all that trouble of
peeling and scraping and boiling

when you can get a perfectly
good soup out of a can?

You. That's the difference.

When you make homemade soup, it's
individual. You put a lot of you into it.

It's nurture, care, love.

There you go.

- Very nice.
- You take that to the woman you love.

No, hold on, hold on.

- Flowers.
- Eh?

For Esther. Go on.

Right.

Oh, my.

- Gerry did it.
- What, a supermarket ready-meal?

No, no, it's...
chicken and seeds.

- What, he cooked it from scratch?
- Yeah.

He's not making a terrible
mess down there, is he?

No. No, the coroner's dead, pathologist
dead, Dr Robinson dead, Dr Froy...

Yeah, exactly.

No, Brian's chasing pharmacology.
Do you wanna speak to him?

Oh, no.

No, he's got the full spec on aetheraline.
Yeah, and Binky was right, it was a killer.

Mmm.

Yeah, hold on. Brian!

Brian!

You coming over?

Brian!

Have you eaten? Oh, well, don't.

No, just bring a bottle. Red.
Anything but Californian, all right?

- Hold on. Brian!
- All right, hold your horses. I'm coming.

Here. It's Jack.

Hello.

Yeah, I am.

Yeah, well, anyway, Binky
Baxter was telling the truth.

Yeah, aetheraline. Big scandal.

Brought down one of the big
four drug companies at the time.

But, and here's the big but,

it only killed diabetics.

And according to medical records,
Bertie definitely wasn't a diabetic.

- Oi!
- Ow!

Don't pick!

Bloody hell. Gerry just flacked
me on the hand with a bloody spoon.

What are you...

He's a child.

So, if Bertie wasn't a diabetic,

then aetheraline couldn't have
been the cause of his heart attack.

So, we assume she didn't kill him. Binky
was wrong. There's nothing to investigate.

Unless Binky's a wind-up
merchant or totally deluded.

Yeah. We've got no means
but we have got motive.

Bertie was about to ruin
her career. Her life, even.

Don't forget that in those days, one
homosexual indiscretion and it was curtains.

- The BBC was as straight-laced as Mary Poppins.
- Motive is a start.

Well, I reckon he had more
motive to murder her. Bitch.

"Are you married,
Superintendent?"

Like she's some kind of
fabulous advert for total domestic...

I wonder who she was shagging? Binky
said she was getting some elsewhere.

- How many motives do you want?
- Fancy a curry on the way home?

- I thought I'd pop round to Brian's.
- All right, we'll take one with us.

- Or a Kentucky? They're bound to be open.
- Gerry's cooking.

Oh.

- We're both invited.
- Oh.

Mmm.

Does she like syllabub?

- She likes yoghurt.
- What is it with you and yoghurt?

Gerry, I'm trying to check on
Campbell's alibi. The after-dinner thing.

Everyone likes syllabub.

Who were the Yorkshire
Ripper's first four victims?

Wilma McCann, Emily Jackson,
Irene Richardson, Patricia Atkinson.

Blue cheese, honey mustard,
French, ranch or Thousand Islands?

- What?
- What's Esther's favourite salad dressing?

- Has she ever eaten oysters?
- Oysters?

- What's her favourite vegetable?
- No idea.

What's the psychoactive
component of cannabis?

- Tetrahydrocannabinol.
- And when did it become a controlled substance?

Dangerous Drugs Act,
28th of September, 1928.

I rest my case.

Oh. I adore syllabub.

Mmm.

Oh, that's delicious.
Here, you try some.

It's nice.

- What?
- Nothing.

- Aren't you having any?
- Downstairs.

What's your favourite
salad dressing?

- Blue cheese.
- Really?

Have you ever eaten oysters?

Day trip to Calais with Jean.

Oh, Brian, I'm bored.

I know, love. I know.

I'm sorry.

I know what I've done,
and what I haven't done.

It's just, sometimes, I...

Most of the time, I
just get tunnel vision.

Like a...

Like a black tube.

I never mean to hurt
you or neglect you.

And I see it in your face
when you look at me.

Trying not to get angry.

Cooking me dinners
and cleaning up.

I know I take you for granted.

I don't try hard enough.

And when I saw you
on the kitchen floor...

For a moment...

I'm sorry, love.

- I...
- No, Brian.

I'm bored sitting here.

I've got nothing to do.

- Watch that carpet there.
- Mind that table.

The pictures, watch
the pictures. You got...

- Now steady, steady.
- I'm steady.

- Will it go?
- It won't go, no.

Ow!

Bloody hell! Up-end it. Switch
it over that way. That way.

- Just a minute. Hold on!
- Christ.

Oh, Lord!

- Got it?
- Yes.

- You got it?
- Nearly.

Right. One, two, three.
Watch the paintwork.

There, done it. Let's
put it down there.

Me back's gone!

There you go.

- Da-da!
- Oh!

Now, a simple question.

Could that woman have
murdered her husband?

- Hola, from me, Kitty.
- Hola, from me, Bertie.

And welcome to the show.
Tonight we have a Spanish theme.

Come on in.

- Evening, all.
- Hello, Esther.

- Brian, shall we get a couple of chairs?
- Hello.

How are you feeling?

- Little top-up. That all right?
- Excellent.

- There you go. One for the guvnor.
- Thank you.

- Bon appétit.
- Mmm. Gorgeous chicken, Gerry.

- Cheers, Jack.
- Cheers.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Cheers.

And season your paella to taste.

I'd recommend four
healthy pinches...

- Stop! There's something wrong.
- What?

She was about to put
sugar in the paella. Go back.

There. Play.

And season your paella to taste.

Stop.

- And she cut herself.
- When?

Go back.

While she was chopping onion
for the paella. You didn't notice?

She covered it very well,
but she did cut herself.

That's why she's clutching
that napkin all through this bit.

Oh, yes.

You can just see a smidge
of blood in the corner.

In the corner, yeah.

- And this is Mrs Perfect.
- Kitty Campbell doesn't make mistakes.

And this was the last
show they ever did.

- Bertie was dead by the end of the night.
- Look how nervous she is.

Well, she knows that later
on she's going to off him.

Let me see that
finger cut bit again.

Remember to slice
the onions. Don't chop...

- There! See?
- God, you are good.

How do you feel
about men in wigs?

"The first ever death from
aetheraline became a famous test case,

"a Devon woman
in her early thirties.

"The drug company settled out of court
when they saw the evidence against them.

"The esteemed counsel
for the victim's family was...

"Sir Barnaby Fitzharris QC."

Kitty Campbell's father.

Yeah, she was here
when Bertie croaked.

Giving her after-dinner speech
to a bunch of law students.

To inspire impressionable minds
with her incredible success story?

- But why her, why here?
- Because Germaine Greer was busy?

No. Because her daddy,
Sir Barnaby Whatsit,

was a top-flight brief, and
these are his chambers.

Her old man was
a big cheese, eh?

One of the highest paid
briefs of his day, apparently.

So Kitty could have walked straight
into a legal job if she'd wanted.

Tough call, eh? The
glittering world of showbiz

or a lifetime in a horse-hair
wig and sensible shoes.

Well, brainy girls
weren't cool in the '60s.

Men liked their women to be demure,
ladylike and good around the house.

- How times have changed.
- Yeah, it's a pity, isn't it?

Um, where do they
keep these files, Watford?

Oh, terrific. You've got it.

It was not the first quarter of
'66 or the last quarter of '65,

it was May '65.

- I'm sorry, it was just...
- You're extremely lucky I found anything.

Well, thanks very much.
We'll sort it out now.

All the evidence Mr Fitzharris
presented to the hearing is in there?

- It's the whole file.
- That's a lovely job. Thanks.

- If I let you look at this file...
- Don't worry, as soon as we're done with it

- we'll have it straight back here, I promise you.
- No, you will not.

You will not leave the building with
any part of this file. Is that understood?

Well, what if we have to show
it to some expert witnesses?

Then you'll need a seizure warrant
and the ruling of a high court judge.

And no pens.

- Cor blimey, ain't half technical, isn't it?
- Yeah, well, keep going.

Somewhere there is something

that scared the makers of
aetheraline into settling out of court.

- This could be it.
- What? What is it?

I don't know. Gotta get
it to a pharmacologist.

Keep your eye out.

Ah! There you are.

We're just finishing,
thank you very much.

My colleague is
just tidying up now.

Really has been most
invaluable, I can't tell you.

Though it does
take some reading.

He certainly got through some
work, didn't he, old Fitzharris?

- God, yeah, that is small, isn't it?
- It's impossible.

Ah, that's better.

Are you the policemen?

- Yeah.
- Yeah.

- Are you the pharmacologist?
- Yeah.

If that pager goes off, I'm gone. You
want to pick my brains, it's now or never.

Right.

What do you make of that? I'm
sorry, it's not very easy to read.

"The Adverse Cardiovascular
Impact Of Beta Receptor Agonists."

- Yeah, I know about this.
- What, just from the name?

It's a family of drugs that
were isolated in the mid-'60s.

Beta 2 receptors for bronchodilation.
Huge potential for asthma treatment.

- Aetheraline was the most exciting.
- Didn't work, though.

It worked too well. Caused
too much quickening of the heart

- as it opened up the airways.
- People died.

Diabetics. Asthmatic
diabetics died.

The first wave of drugs didn't work
out. Clinical trials were insufficient.

- Links weren't made. It happens.
- But the dosage from an asthmatic inhaler

wouldn't be enough to kill
someone who wasn't a diabetic.

Uptake through
the lungs is fast,

but an inhaler is never gonna administer
a large enough dose, even in constant use.

Could aetheraline be
introduced to the body

in any other way in large doses?

Shit. I gotta go.

Could you get it in the
body in any way in quantity?

It'd enter the bloodstream easily
no matter how it was introduced.

Large doses could be
administered practically any way,

by intravenous or
intramuscular injection...

- Not so effective for lung disorders, though.
- Right.

But... you could
even just eat it.

You know, like,
just put it in food.

You could eat it.
Just put it in food.

Look, basically,
she poisoned him.

A large enough dose could kill
you even if you weren't asthmatic.

She knew he wasn't diabetic,
but persisted with the aetheraline.

Um, what were Bertie's
stomach contents?

Er...

fish, chicken, pine nuts, rice.

I'll catch you later. I just
want to check something. Bye.

A little rioja to accompany
my wife's paella.

Full body, this one.

Lingers beautifully
on the palate.

You tuck in there,
pickle, enjoy.

- You're not joining me, pumpkin?
- Oh, no, no.

Oh, gorgeous, darling.

And as Bertie tucks into his
paella, it's time for me, Kitty...

And me, Bertie...

- To bid you apetito del bon.
- Del bon.

See you next week.

Fish, chicken, rice,
pine nuts, paella.

That's one, two, three, four.

Sprinkled liberally
with aetheraline.

Kitty Campbell's office.

Hello. Yeah, it's Superintendent
Pullman from UCOS here.

I'd like to arrange a meeting
with Miss Campbell again, please.

Hold one moment, please.

Miss Campbell would love to
see you. She suggests lunch.

- Ralph, my lawyer.
- Why do you need a lawyer present?

Are lawyers not
allowed to lunch?

- I've been watching tapes of your old shows.
- How tedious for you.

I watched the last show.
Thank you very much.

Bertie ate paella,
you didn't join him.

No, I had dinner later
with my father in chambers.

But I'm sure you know that,
Superintendent Pullman.

Cut to the chase.

I think your husband
was poisoned.

The postmortem showed my
husband died of natural causes.

Yes, but research since then proves conclusively
that the aetheraline Bertie was taking

could have fatal side effects,
which at the time seemed natural.

So I gather. But as you also
know, it only affected diabetics.

So even if my concerns about
dear Bertie's asthma were misplaced,

and even if dear Dr Froy paid too
much attention to my pleas for treatment,

I couldn't unwittingly have contributed
to my husband's demise, could I?

Your father represented
the first victim of the drug.

Yes. And won. I
saw all the notes.

- He liked to bounce ideas off me.
- Then you knew that aetheraline was a killer.

Of course I did. To
asthmatic diabetics.

And also in large doses
to perfectly healthy people.

Really?

Shall we ask Ralph
what he thinks?

You're muck-raking, Superintendent.
You're trying to dig for dirt.

And why?

Because...

- Because women of your type...
- My what?

You made a choice.

To compete in a man's world.
To strut and posture with the men.

You gave up every
vestige of femininity.

You sacrificed it in
some pursuit of power.

And now, you resent women
who can be successful and powerful

- without selling out as you did.
- That's just not true.

And it certainly doesn't
have any bearing on...

You have no concept
of female solidarity

because you stopped being one.

Business over. Let's order.

Horrible! She's the most
horrible woman I've ever met!

- Doesn't mean she's guilty.
- She is, though.

Show me the proof.

Forensic's rubbish. It's all
hearsay. Supposition, not proof.

Well, what about her father

and the out-of-court settlement
with the drug company?

Circumstantial at best. She
took great pleasure in telling me

that she had access to research material
that showed that the drug could be lethal.

Yeah, it's just another one of the
growing band of so-called celebrities

who get away with practically anything
'cause it's too messy to make it stick.

Really pisses me off.

We'd make UCOS look stupid
if we went to the DPP with this.

"Revenge is a dish
best served cold."

It's all circumstantial, and the
pathology reports were inconclusive.

So, there is no
case to investigate.

Uh-oh.

I see it all now, yes.
Binky's getting a picture.

A truly fabulous
picture. A picture of Kitty,

all sweet and smiles
and warm and posh,

talking about that nasty little homosexual
man who must've made the whole thing up.

"Oh, he's a bitter
and spiteful little poof."

- Well, do tell. Am I warm?
- Binky?

- Yes?
- Shut up.

- You'll have plenty of time to talk later.
- Can't do anything. Can't take this to court.

But should you choose to run with
your story as a true-life testimony,

- well, there's nothing we can do, except...
- Except?

Accidentally leave some corroborating
documents, which are in fact public record,

in a convenient place

where a hawk-eyed member of
the press might discover them.

And where might this
convenient place be?

I have absolutely no idea.

- That was devious.
- Very devious.

Deliciously devious.

Sometimes you make us so proud.

Britain's most famous TV
cook, Dame Kitty Campbell,

was today unavailable for
comment after a sensational exposé

printed in the Sunday
newspapers this weekend.

Her reputation is her brand,
and in light of these allegations,

this morning's trading saw Kitty
Campbell's shares fall by 45.5 pence,

that's 28.8%. And they're
now trading at 1 10 pence.

City analysts may now be advising
the company to stall its plans

for Kitty Campbell's
brand expansion into Asia.

An emergency meeting has been called
by the board of directors this evening,

but all members have
declined to comment.

Allegations have been made by
a former employee, Binky Baxter,

that she plotted to murder
her husband 40 years ago.

Way to go, Binky. Looking good!

Mr Baxter, seen here earlier today, is
the man at the heart of the controversy.

However, Miss Campbell's
press secretary did state

that she was determined to
fight this every step of the way,

and that Kitty vehemently denied
that these events ever took place.

Kitty does not know who manipulated
Binky Baxter, but she is convinced...

Once the chicken
stock has settled,

introduce it gradually,
just a tea cup at a time,

all the while
stirring continuously.

Over.

Brian to Esther. The
stock is now settled.

And I am now adding
the stock to the rice. Over.

Just a cup at a time. Over.

Copy that. Three cups. Over.

- Well, what about the saffron?
- Oh, forget the saffron, it's too late.

That good? WOMAN:
Oh, my God, that's good.

Heaven, just heaven.

How about this?

Mmm.

That hit the spot? Yes!

♪ It's all right, it's okay

♪ Doesn't really matter
if you're old and grey

♪ It's all right,
I say, it's okay

♪ Listen to what I say

♪ It's all right, doing fine

♪ Doesn't really matter
if the sun don't shine

♪ It's all right,
I say, it's okay

♪ We're getting
to the end of the day

♪ High tech, low
tech, take your pick

♪ 'Cause you can't teach
an old dog a brand new trick

♪ I don't care what anybody says

♪ At the end of the day ♪