All language subtitles for Christmas Special All God’s Creatures

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Where do you want it,
Mr. Farnon?

Just in the back,
fat end first, please.

Marvellous! That looks lovely.

-Merry Christmas to you.
-And to you, sir.

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Found the old wrapping paper.

Mrs. Hall: Oh!

Well done.

Had to stop his nibs here
from ripping it all to bits.

The little monkey!

Perhaps he'd like to help us
make paper chains?

Yes, it's about time
he made himself useful!

I've flour and sugar
put aside for the cake,

but there's no chance
of a Christmas pud.

And I'm not convinced

by Alice Dinsdale's
blackberry mincemeat.

I know.

It's a poor show for your
first Christmas, isn't it?

It's not the end of the world.

At least we'll have plenty
of potatoes and sprouts.

Well, that might be all we have.

The butcher said this morning

I'd more chance
of flying to the moon

than getting a roasting joint
this side of Christmas.

Although, I may have a lead
on something better.

Helen: Oh, yes?

I just need to pop out
for a bit.

Very mysterious.

I won't be long.

James: Hello!

Helen: Did you have to bring
home half the countryside?

James: You said
you wanted holly!

Well, if nothing else,

we'll certainly look festive.

Ah boo!

You won't have met
many mules before now,

but they're the animals
you'll be dealing with mostly

out in the field, so you need
to get to grips with them.

Trouble is,
much like Yorkshire farmers,

they're stoical buggers.

And it's not always easy
to tell what's wrong with them.

Take colic, for example.

I'm assuming you didn't miss

that week
of veterinary college, Duggins?

No, I didn't.

When a horse has colic,
you can see he's in pain.

But your mule just soldiers on.

So, what symptoms
do we look for?

A high pulse
and a discoloured membrane.

And if we need
further confirmation?

The best thing
is to listen to its gut.

Give that man a coconut!

You want to hear rumblings.

No gut sounds
means you're in trouble.

Oh, now you're just showing off.

Robertson: A word, Farnon.

How're they getting on?

Tristan: Very good, sir,
they're a bright bunch.

Robertson: And you?

I wouldn't call myself bright,
but I'm willing.

You'll be glad to hear I've got
a special project for you, then.

Sir?

Things are heating up
since the Japanese attack.

With the Americans on board,

this particular project
might prove vital

to our joint efforts.

Pigeons.

-Pigeons, sir?
-Yes.

We are bolstering the colony

for a number of upcoming
classified operations

and I need you to source a dozen
of the fittest and fastest

for breeding.

You've plenty
of pigeon fanciers in the Dales,

haven't you?

I believe so, yes.

And you don't know the first
thing about them, do you?

They're really not my area, sir.

Alright, well...

I reckon you might
be surprised, Farnon.

They're bloody heroes,
these little birds.

-If you say so, sir.
-Yes.

I don't care
where you find them,

but we need
the best of the best.

And ideally, we need them
before Christmas.

I think you can manage it?

-Yes, sir. Absolutely.
-Good.

Hey! You! Pockets!

You let us down, Duggins.

Right. What have we learnt? You.

Right. 12 coupons, as agreed.

Ta, Audrey. You're a lifesaver.

Oh, I'm glad to help.

And you said we could
pick it up on the 21st.

I'll have him put it aside
under "Farnon."

Wonderful.

You alright, Christopher?

What have you got there?

My pet snails.

Oh!

That's an unusual pet.

That's nothing --
we've had a bat,

a duck,

Lord knows how many mice.

Sounds like our house.

My boss, Mr. Farnon, he's a vet.

He even as a pet rat.

Does he?

Don't go giving him ideas!

Oh, it's...

It's quite sweet
once you get to know it.

Right. Well, come on, you lot.
Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas, girls.

-Christopher: Merry Christmas.
-Ethel: Come on.

Mrs. Hall: Merry Christmas.

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Come on then, you bugger.

Oh!

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James: See? It's not too big.

I just need to find something
to hold it in place.

Right.

Ooh!

Oh, you look
pleased with yourself.

I've just got us a goose
for our Christmas dinner.

No, really?

Helen: How?

Miggin's sister's eldest
is getting married,

and she needs
extra clothing coupons,

so we came to an arrangement.

Audrey, you're a marvel!

Oh.

Oh, I'll do it.

Will you watch him?

There we go!
Steady on.

He's ready to go today!

I think he'll be walking
by Christmas.

Mrs. Hall: I wouldn't
be surprised.

Did you decide what you're
going to do for his birthday?

I thought we might
have a tea party.

We could do it up at Heston
on Christmas Eve.

Mrs. Hall: Oh,
that would be lovely!

You know, I could...

make a birthday cake
instead of a Christmas one.

Just because
you were born on the 25th

doesn't mean
you should miss out.

James: Exactly!

Yeah, we can't have our boy
being upstaged!

Not even by the big man himself.

James. He'll send a thunderbolt.

Who left that bloody
great fir tree outside?

-Afternoon, Mrs. H.
-Hello, Tris, love.

I was rather hoping you'd
help me bring it in, actually.

So, this you done
for Christmas, then?

Tristan: Mm. No such luck.

Been lumbered
with a special assignment.

I would sound enthusiastic,

but it's hard to be excited
about pigeons.

What?! Surely, you remember
Granddad's pigeon loft.

A bit before my time,
I'm afraid.

I suppose it would be.

Well, they're remarkable birds.

They can find their way home
from a thousand miles away.

So can I.

Not without a map and compass
you can't.

And they proved themselves
invaluable in the last war

as very reliable mail carriers.

You must have heard of Cher Ami?

Rings a vague bell.

Amazing bird,

shot through the wing at Verdun,

still managed to save
the lives of 200 soldiers.

You should look it up.

-Alright, Tris?
-Mm, mustn't grumble, Jim.

Well, good afternoon.

At last, a chance for some
intelligent conversation.

So, tell me, Jimmy.

What wonders
have you encountered today?

Helen: Your tea, your Lordship.

-All: Ohhh!
-Siegfried: Yes!

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Good heavens!

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Christopher?

Christopher!

What's all this?

Feel free to lend us
a hand, James.

Sorry, I was only asked
to find Holly.

If it's pigeons you're after,
you should talk...

-to Enoch Sykes.
-Oh, yes?

Yes, he's bred champions
for years.

-I'll find you his address.
-Shh! Something's happened.

...that HMS Prince of Wales
and HMS Repulse

have been sunk
whilst carrying out operations

against the Japanese
attack on Malaya.

An official communiqu�
issued by the Japanese

claimed that both
were sunk by air attack

at around 5:00 this morning
Greenwich Mean Time.

No further details
are yet available.

The Repulse.

Edward's ship.

We have to tell Audrey.

Yes.

Yes, I think perhaps I should.

Mrs. Hall: Mr. Farnon.

Rather an unusual
patient arrived.

I told him to wait by the fro--
What is it?

What's wrong?

I'm afraid
there's some bad news.

The Repulse came under
enemy attack.

She's gone down
off the coast of Malaya.

I see.

What about survivors?

They don't know how many yet,

but they should know more
by the morning.

What did they say, exactly?

Only that the Prince of Wales
and the Repulse had been sunk,

apparently by Japanese
aerial attack,

and they were awaiting
further report.

Well, there's no use worrying
'til there's more information.

Exactly.

For all we know, it may not
be as bad as it sounds.

A-and they're sure
to have released air support

and local rescue boats.

Yeah, Tris is right.

Can't be certain
of anything yet.

Quite.

Mrs. Hall: Th-- there's a...

There's a boy,
Christopher Taylor.

He's brought in a fox.

A fox?

He's in the waiting area.

Right. Yes. And...

I'll take care of that.

Alright, then.

Better get the tea done.

Oh, I can do that.

I've only the potatoes to do.

Still, if there's anything
we can do to help.

You can move that.

James, would you?

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You should really
have left him where he was.

It's not a good idea
to handle wild animals.

I know.

But it kept
going into my garden.

I thought I might be hungry,
so I put some food out.

Well, that was hardly sensible.

Most people consider foxes
to be vermin,

Especially farmers.

A lot of people
say the same about rats.

Well, anyway, er...

I saw its tail and I thought
something was wrong with it.

It's just a little bit
of mange.

Nothing too serious.

Can you fix it?

I can give him something
to clear it up.

But then I have to take him
back out into the wild.

You could always
put him in the woods.

That way, he's not near
many farms.

That's not a bad idea.

And I could come with you.

Yes, I suppose you could.

Through here, Christopher.

Apologies, Mrs. Hall,

we just need to take
this little chap

back where he belongs.

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James: I'm sorry,
I didn't hear him at all.

Helen: He was just
a bit restless.

-He settled back quickly.
-James: That's good.

-Siegfried: Good morning.
-Helen: Morning.

-James: Morning.
-Good morning, young Jimmy.

-Tea's in the pot.
-Wonderful, thank you.

Any sign of Tristan?

The paper boy didn't come,
so he, erm...

What does it say?

Well, they believe around half
the crew have been lost,

but that means
at least half of them survived.

And there's bound to be
a lot of confusion,

-so it could well be more.
-Tristan: Exactly.

Anyway, they say they'll be...

publishing a list of casualties

in the paper
in the next few days,

after they've informed
the next of kin.

Alright.

And while I remember --

Miggins is putting aside
a goose for me.

It'll be ready on the 21st if
you wouldn't mind picking it up.

No, of course not, erm...

we really don't need to worry
about Christmas right now.

Mrs. Hall: Well --

It's less than two weeks away.

Tris is home, James is home,

and not to mention
it's Jimmy's first birthday.

There's lots to do.

I know, but we can all be...

I just want to be ready.

I suppose it's best
she keeps busy.

Once we know for certain...
a different matter.

You're talking as if
it's a foregone conclusion.

Siegfried's
just being realistic.

No, he's assuming the worst.

You realise there's still
a 50-50 chance.

The report said
at least half have survived.

God knows how many others
could have been picked up.

We don't have enough
information to draw conclusions.

Is there anyone
you could talk to?

I suppose I could call
the Admiralty office.

I don't think they'll be able
to tell us anything yet.

The best thing we can do
is carry on as normal.

Speaking of which, I looked up
that address for you.

What address?

Enoch Sykes, the pigeons.

Tristan: Hello?

Tristan: Hello there.

Mr. Sykes?

Who the bloody hell are you?

Tristan Farnon from the RAVC.

The where?

The Royal Army Veterinary Corps.

I don't care where you're from.

Get down off my wall!

I'd like to talk about
using your pigeons

for our breeding program.

I've been told they're
particularly fine specimens.

You can bugger off, will ya?

Sneaking about and spying.

You're not coming near my birds!

Tristan: No!

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Oh, for God's sake!

Mr. Sykes.

Mr. Sykes!

What the hell
are you playing at?

As I said, Mr. Sykes,

I came to talk
about your pigeons,

but I couldn't help but notice

some of their...deposits

have rather a green tinge.

You what?

Could point to any number
of gastric conditions.

Possibly even a parasite
of some kind.

Oi! Keep your voice down!

Left untreated,
there's always a danger

it could decimate
your entire flock.

Get yourself in here.

Standing out there,
shouting the odds...

Has Battersby put you
up to this?

Mr. Sykes, I can assure you --

10 years, he's been after
my feed recipe!

I wouldn't put it past him
to try something like this.

I'm here on official
RAVC business.

Aye. Well, there's nothing
wrong with my birds

In which case,
you'll have no objection

to my taking a look
inside this loft here.

You can look.

But don't you touch 'owt.

Tristan: You know,
they really are beautiful.

I can see why
you're so proud of them.

But actually, Mr. Sykes,

I'm seeing a lot
of green faeces in this one.

Give over!

Some of it looks
almost luminous.

Well, there's a couple
with upset stomachs,

but they'll be right
in a day or two!

Perhaps.
But speaking as a vet...

I've got no time
for veterinaries.

Never have had.

Well, why don't I just
take a few samples

to see if we can get to the
bottom of what's causing this,

in case it is something nasty.

And you'd do that
out of the goodness

of your heart, would you?

Tristan: Let me run a few tests

on a couple
of the affected birds,

see if I can solve the problem,
and if I can,

then maybe we can discuss
the breeding program.

Well...

Ripley.

He's been out of sorts
for a day or two now.

That would be a terrible shame
if the problem were to spread.

Or if, say...

Battersby were to
get wind of it.

Right. You can take him.

But only 'til tomorrow!

And I'm not making no promises.

Thank you, Mr. Sykes.

Helen: Shall I make us a brew?

Aren't they expecting you
up at Heston?

They can manage.

Audrey...

I can't imagine
what you're going through.

-But you're no--
-Mrs. Hall: Helen.

I know you mean well.

And I'm grateful.

But...

please, just...

just go to Heston.

Dad heard it on the radio.

He was sure
it was Edward's ship.

We're just praying
he's amongst the survivors.

How is Audrey, love?

Helen: Putting on a brave face,
you know,

just trying to keep going
'til she knows more.

-Yeah, well, send her our best.
-Helen: I will.

Where have you two been?

We've been looking at cows,
haven't we, Jimmy lad?

Hey?

I'll tell you what.

He's not daft!

He's taking it all in!

I know! I know.

I reckon he'll be talking soon,
look!

Oh, don't you start.

James is convinced
he'll be walking any minute.

Well, he might be right.

You were a fast walker.

I remember your mum

taking her first steps.

Yeah!

Straight to a cow-pat.

Richard: Hey? Born farmer.

What's this
about a tea party, then?

They're not expecting our Jenny
to make a cake, are they?

No, I'll make it.

Yes! Yes,
that'll be much better.

Much better that you'll make it.

Ooh!

What is she doing
to your granddad?

The powder should
do the trick, Mrs. Goff,

but if Genghis has
any more problems,

-just bring him back in.
-Thank you so much, Mr. Farnon.

-Thank you. Bye bye.
-Mrs. Goff: Bye bye.

-Success!
-What you got there?

One of Enoch Sykes's
famous pigeons.

-Siegfried: He let you have one?
-Well, not exactly.

Actually, I was hoping
you could give me a hand.

A few of his birds seem to have
some kind of gastric problem.

If I can figure out
what's wrong with them,

I reckon he might lend me
a few of the good ones.

So, I thought we could
take a few samples,

you could diagnose a problem,
and then -hey presto!

I'm the new poster boy
for Pigeon Weekly.

Yes...Those samples might
prove a little challenging.

-How so?
-This pigeon's dead.

Oh, God.

"Should a post-mortem
be required, see Diagram N."

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Have you got anything?

Sorry, no mention
of luminous green guano.

Of course,
a less accomplished vet

would simply send the animal
off to the lab for testing.

But then, you'd have
to wait for the results.

Although,
it is an extraordinarily

fiddly and delicate procedure --

a pigeon post-mortem.

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All those tiny,
clustered organs,

each one crucial
to the diagnosis.

One mistake, and...

Well, it's all over!

But I'm sure you know
what you're doing.

Envelope.

The lab.

I guess we'll just have to wait.

Won't we?

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Mrs. Hall: You're not there.

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Siegfried: I promise you,
Mr. Sykes,

I did pass on your message
two days ago

Ye-- And the time before.

In fact, you're in luck.
He's just walking towards me.

I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Sykes.

Seems I was mistaken,
but I'll have him call you soon.

What on E--

-Was that supposed to be me?!
-I don't know.

Tristan, you cannot leave
the poor man in limbo!

And I'm not going to.

I'll call him as soon
as I get the lab results back.

But you failed to tell him that
his pigeon is actually dead!

I thought it better
to break the news in person.

Besides, I have
a bigger problem.

Which is what?

I've tried five other
breeders now, and nothing doing.

One of them even slammed
the bloody door in my face.

Yes, well, they're
very protective of their birds.

With good reason, in this case!

Hello there.

Where are you off to?

Oh, I see you.

What are you doing?

You shouldn't be in here.

Are you hungry?

Is that it?

They're dog biscuits.

I know you prefer meat,

but I thought you might like it.

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Quite nice in here, isn't it?

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Ah! There he is.

I'll leave you to it.

Now, then!

Where the bloody hell
is my pigeon?

-Mr. Sykes.
-One day, we said.

-That was nearly a week ago.
-Yes.

Sorry, things have been, erm...

rather busy.

Just go and get me my bird,
will you?

Unfortunately, that won't be
possible at this precise moment.

Oh? Why not?

Well, I'm afraid to say
that, erm,

despite my best efforts,

He's dead, isn't he?

Well, if one were to define
it in clinical terms, then...

Yes.

I'm sorry.

And you've been ignoring
my calls like a dumb coward.

I can see
how it might look that way,

but I was just waiting for
the lab results to come back.

Looking after your own
backside, more like.

There weren't 'owt
wrong with them birds.

And then you turn up,
and they're all dead!

Other birds have died, too?

That's what I just said.

You're like a great
bloody raven.

-I beg your pardon?
-A raven!

Unluckiest bird there is.

Well, that's a bit strong.

And don't think you can go

playing your tricks
on other breeders

'cause I've warned them all.

They know all about you.

Come on, Betty.

##

Doesn't that make
a good noise?

Yes.

You alright there?

I'm just thinking about
Jimmy's presents.

There's so few toys in the shops
at the moment.

Oh, he'd be happy
with an orange on a stick.

Wouldn't you, hey?

I think we think we can do
a bit better than that.

Oh, about bloody time!

The lab results
from Sykes's pigeon.

-Audrey.
-Thanks, love.

So?

Lead poisoning, apparently.

Oh.

I wonder where from.

No idea, but the old bugger

can hardly blame me
for that, can he?

I suppose I'd better
get up there and have a look.

Anyone have any chain mail
I could borrow?

Edward.

December the 2nd.

Must have posted it before...

Audrey.

You see, this is just
what I was worried about.

Sorry?

You should never
have got her hopes up.

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Edward: Sending this early so
it'll reach you by Christmas.

I shall write more
when I have time, but for now,

I have a favour to ask.

A pal of mine, Paddy Grainger,

has just been
invalided back home.

He lives in Skipton,
10 Millpark Street.

Could you take him
a bottle of rum

and some of your shortbread,
if you have the sugar,

as a Christmas present from me?

Love from Edward.

##

Blood poisoning?
What a load of cack!

The tests were conclusive,
I'm afraid.

It must be coming
from inside this loft.

That one is fine.

If something's
poisoning them here,

how come
they're not still badly?

-Well, they're not.
-They're right as rain!

Tristan: I thought you said
others had died.

Aye. Two of them.

But that was over a week ago,

just after you last come.

So, you stay where you are!

That is strange.

It couldn't be something
in the feed?

Enoch: I haven't changed
that recipe for 10 years.

The only thing that's different
round here is you showing up.

There is one other thing
that's different.

You could barely
get out of that chair last time.

Aye, lumbago.

I've never had it so bad.

I'm alright now.

Couldn't even stand up
to feed the birds!

Really need to take
another look inside this loft.

I told you, you're gonna
stay where you are.

But the birds
could get sick again,

and as a vet, I have a duty.

Hmm...

What are you on about?
It can't be paint!

That paint's been there
20 years!

Just to show me
exactly what you did

when your back was bad.

Please.

Waste of bloody time.

Go on.

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And there's your answer.

Wha--

Yeah.

Every time you flung it
in like that,

little flakes of lead paint

got mixed in with the feed.

So, it was all my doing?

Oh, my...

I, er,

rather feel
you owe me an apology.

So, I gave a couple of them
a quick dose

of calcium sodium versenate,

and now he's agreed
to lend me his six finest

to take back to Doncaster!

I'm driving them up
tomorrow morning.

What's that, Tris?

Siegfried: Sykes has decided

Tristan is no longer
the bird killer of Darrowby.

Come on, jump off.

-Is he asleep?
-Out like a light

So, mission "Pigeon Breeder"
is a-go.

But don't worry, I'll do my best

to make it back
for Jimmy's party.

Oh, me and James
have been talking.

We don't think
it should go ahead.

I'm sure Mrs. Hall wouldn't want
you to cancel on her account.

I know, but it just feels wrong,
celebrating.

She can't even bring herself

to sit down here
with us in the evening.

And as for Christmas Day,

I don't think
she can do that, either.

No.

I'll speak to her
in the morning.

Mrs. Hall: Mr. Farnon!

Mr. Farnon!

Mr. Farnon! Come quick!

Mr. Farnon, I need your help.

Right, through here.

It looks like a particularly
nasty dog bite.

You can see the puncture wounds.

Where did you find him?

Curled up in the shed.

Our shed?

Is this the same fox
that boy brought in?

It is.

Well, judging
by the state of the wounds,

he was bitten
more than 24 hours ago.

I hadn't seen him
for a couple of days.

You see, this is what happens

when animals
lose their fear of humans.

They no longer
keep their distance.

It's alright. It's alright.

The wound is already infected.

The kindest thing now
is to put him down.

Huh?

No.

No, you can't do that.

Well, there's
little chance he'll recover.

It's just a simple injection.

And why should you
get to decide?

He's one of God's creatures.

Why should you get to decide
if he lives or dies?

Whose life's important enough
to be saved?

That's not right.

That's not...

fair.

You shouldn't.

You shouldn't.

What did you say to her?

Alright.

Best behaviour.

So!

These are Yorkshire's
best fliers, then?

-So I'm told, sir.
-Well, I hope you're right

For all the modern equipment
and advanced technology...

it's still these little birds
that we rely on

at the end of the day.

How many
are in the colony, sir?

At present?

Around 500, that's just locally.

There must be at least 100,000
in service across the country.

And you have to keep
the numbers up

because they keep on
getting shot down.

Bloody warriors.

Ah.

One of the fellows
wanted me to give you that.

They were given their
deployment orders last week.

Burma.

They've been deployed already?

They've been given
a couple of days' leave,

and then they're off.

Right.

Don't worry, Farnon.

You're staying put for a while.

You're of much more use to us
here as an instructor.

Right. Thank you, sir.

Anyway, the fellows all speak
very highly of you, Farnon.

They wanted you to have that as
something to remember them by.

Merry Christmas, Farnon.

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-Hello, ma'am.
-Afternoon.

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-Paddy Grainger?
-Paddy: Yes.

I'm Edward Hall's mother.

Paddy: Oh.

Come in.

##

Please, have a seat.

Thank you.

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These are for you.

It's just a few biscuits I made.

Oh, and Edward
said in his card...

There ought to be rum.

Yeah.

Eddie always gave me
his rum ration.

Said he didn't
care for it himself.

Thank you.

So, your hand.

Is it badly broken?

Crushed.

Got trapped in a winch.

Sorry to hear that.

Shouldn't have been
working it, by rights.

I was just helping out.

Because you work
in the engine room, don't you?

like Edward?

Aye.

Sorry, you must
think me daft, but...

Edward don't write much
about his work.

The engine room, that's...

that's down in the bottom
of the ship, isn't it?

Aye.

I'm going to ask you
something, Paddy.

And I need you
to be honest with me.

Please, Mrs. Hall.

I don't know
any more than you do.

I've been checking
in the papers every day.

So have I.

So, if he were down...

in the engine room...

when the ship were hit...

He wouldn't have
stood a chance.

He couldn't have.

I'm sorry.

He was a good man.

-The best --
-I'm sorry Paddy.

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Yeah, that's not too bad, is it?

I just didn't want Audrey
to be worried about it.

Jimmy doesn't know any better.

He's probably gonna
grow up thinking

they're all
meant to look like that!

Helen: Hey, don't you start!

What shall we do?
Shall we wait for 'em?

Well, we could always
just do our presents.

Go on, then.

I know you're desperate
to show me.

Richard: Now, then.

Blimey, what's all this?

You said we were to get
two lots of presents --

one for birthday,
one for Christmas!

I know, but he didn't
have to have them all in one go.

Oh, well.

Might as well open 'em
while they're here.

Helen: Aww!

You got him some wellies.

Not just "some" wellies
they're you're wellies!

-Oh!
-Richard: First pair we got you.

Thanks, Dad.

They'll be perfect for him...

in 2 or 3 years' time.

Oh, Dad,
where'd you get all this?

Some fella down at Drover's
was having a clear out.

I thought, er...

I thought our Jimmy might
like it when he's a bit older.

Helen: I think he'll love it!

Thank you.

There we go! Look!

Right.

Look inside.

It's a doctor's kit.

No, no, I made him
his own little vet's bag.

See?

It says "J. Herriot & Son"
on the front.

So he can take it along
with him on visits!

Oh, James,
that's a lovely idea.

Give over!

James: See? He likes it.

Now, then, Jimmy.

Look at that cow. Hey?

Just like the ones
you're gonna be milking

when you're a bit older.

Only it's a bit smaller
and made of lead.

Unless he decides
to be a vet.

What are you talking about?

Five generations
of farming blood in that lad.

True. But there's plenty
of father-and-son vet practices.

Aye.

He's going to be a farmer
like his mother.

Well, it's a bit early
to decide that yet.

It might be.

You can tell by looking at him
he's got farmer's hands.

Alright, that's enough!
Both of you! Enough!

He'll be a farmer.

-It says "and son" on the bag.
-James.

"Alderson's Farm," it says.

Both of you. He's a baby!

Wishing his life away.

As long as he's happy
and healthy,

that's all any of us could want,
isn't it?

-Richard: He'll be a farmer.
-Helen: Dad.

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Siegfried: He's not
out of the woods yet.

He may not even
make it through the night.

But I've done what I can.

I'm sorry.

-I should never have fed him.
-It's alright.

-Jimmy's birthday tea!
-They understood.

You can wish him
happy birthday tomorrow.

##

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I keep seeing him in the water.

Clinging on to a piece
of wreckage.

##

Or on a little island

with no way
of sending a message.

##

I just keep going
round and round

every possible place
it could be, but...

##

I cannot imagine him dead.

##

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And I know it's ridiculous,

his unrealistic.

But so long
as there's a chance...

I have to keep believing
he'll come home.

##

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Merry Christmas.

##

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It's like animals
don't know it's Christmas.

Tristan: I'll get it!

Hey, Jimmy, my boy!

Hey!

-Good morning!
-Good morning.

# Happy birthday to you #

# Happy birthday to you #

# Happy birthday, dear Jimmy #

# Happy birthday to you #

Hey!

Good morning!

##

North Pole veterinary service
for wounded reindeer.

How can I help?

Woman: This is the operator.

I have a long distance call
for Mrs. Audrey Hall.

Will you accept it?

Er -- Of course.

One moment.

How is he?

Well, he's no worse.

He made it through the night,

and he may even
have turned a corner.

Oh...

Mrs. Hall, there's, erm...

There's a telephone call
for you.

Audrey Hall speaking.

Operator: Putting you
through now.

Edward: Happy Christmas, Ma.

Edward?

Edward: Aye, it's me.

Merry Christmas,
son!

Where are you?

##

No, there were nothing
in the papers!

Right. No, no. No, don't
worry about me, just...

Just write me a letter, when --

when you're able.

And ta-- take care
of yourself, son.

##

##

He's alright.

He's injured.

But he's alright.

Where is he?

He's in hospital.

In...

Singapore.

I think he's been
in a bad way, but...

he says he's on the mend.

Why did no one tell you?

Well, it wouldn't be the first
time a telegram had gone astray.

They should have sent
a pigeon.

Mrs. Hall: Tristan.

Oh, right.

Oh, God.

Oh, you'll be wanting
your breakfast!

Jess, move.

Ohh...

And we better get that goose on.

Yes, let's do that.

Where did you put it, Siegfried?

-Sorry?
-The goose.

Where did you put it after you
collected it from Miggins?

-Ah.
-Tristan: Oh...

-About that.
-Oh, you absolute donkey.

Oh, Siegfried.

Incredibly sorry, Mrs. Hall.

-It totally slipped my mind.
-Not to worry.

We'll come up with something.

I can't believe I forgot.
It's unforgivable.

It don't matter.

Nothing matters.

Not today.

I think we all
need a festive drink.

-Sherry, Mrs. Hall?
-Oh, that would be lovely.

Whisky for me.

And a double for the wee man.

I'll go and get him.

That really is the most
marvellous news.

Tristan: Yes.

Yes, it is.

Is everything alright?

Absolutely.

##

I found out yesterday
my latest batch of recruits

have been deployed.

Does that mean you have to go --

No. No, no, no.

I'm staying in Doncaster
for the foreseeable.

I'm very pleased to hear it.

I'm ashamed to admit
I was pretty relieved, too.

I don't see any shame in it.

It's just...

you forget sometimes,

you know, exactly what
you're sending these men off to.

I suppose that's why
I was trying

to look on the bright side
for Mrs. H.

Part of me needs to believe
that everything will be alright.

Selfish, really.

Not at all.

It was exactly what she needed.

##

Love, I'm sorry to have gone on
about Jimmy being a farmer.

Oh, you're alright.

He can do whatever he wants.

I've always said that
about my kids.

They can go wherever
life takes 'em.

Jenny: This time next year,
I'll probably be in Leeds.

No, you won't.

Dad.

James: Thank you.

There we are.

Mrs. Hall: We're just
about ready.

Now, then, Jenny.
Don't tell your dad.

Er, before we start.

I thought I might
say a few wor--

Actually --

Mr. Farnon. May I?

Yes! Yes, of course.

These past few weeks...

been the hardest of my life.

And I don't think
I'd have got through them...

without your kindness,

and your understanding.

So, I just wanted to say,

from the bottom of my heart,

thank you.

And more importantly...

Today is someone's special day.

So, I just wanted
to say to you, Jimmy,

Happy birthday.

All: Happy birthday!

And merry Christmas.
Merry Christmas.

All: Merry Christmas.

All: Cheers.

##

Siegfried: Oh, Mrs. Hall!

You've outdone yourself.

Tristan: Let's divvy it up.

I'll go first.

-Siegfried: Where were we?
-Are we ready?

Siegfried: Yes. Carry on.

Er, nervous?

Nervous person, er...

-Bird. Bird-man. Flying man.
-Feather!

-Feather!
-Siegfried: Birds of a feather!

Tristan: Oh, for God's sake,
it's "Midsummer Night's Dream."

Siegfried: What's
all the flapping?

Tristan: Clearly,
I was being a fairy.

Siegfried: I see.

-Jenny: Right, it's your turn.
-Helen: Go on, James.

James: Okay. Er...

All: Two words...

Film.

Siegfried: Charlie Chaplin.
Er, "City Lights."

-Jenny: Dancing!
-Tristan: Caveman.

Siegfried: Oh, no. Erm...

Ah, yes!
I know what you're doing!

Yes! "King Kong"!

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