-Morning, Mrs Hall. -Morning, sir.
-It's a lovely morning. -Ah, cows are sitting down.
That means we'll have rain sometime today. Quite soon, I shouldn't wonder.
Really?
-Scrambled eggs. -Pardon?
-For breakfast. -Oh. I'll eat anything.
They're my favourite, scrambled eggs.
Mr Farnon not down yet?
He's gone through to Lord Hulton to do the post-mortem on that horse.
The one you shot.
Oh, that.
Yes.
You call that clean, eh?
I haven't done that yet, Mr Soames.
Well, get a move on, will you? We haven't got all day.
And just remember
there's lots of people on the dole know about horses,
who would jump at your soft job.
By hell.
I can't wait for Lord Hulton to get back from Scarborough.
He'll be down on that Herriot like a tonne of bricks.
-If he were wrong. -He was wrong!
I've forgotten more about horses than he'll ever know.
What did I tell thee? Here comes rain.
Is there something wrong with your eggs?
No, no, it's fine.
It's just, um...
I don't really seem very hungry.
(CAR HORN HONKING)
Hello, Penelope. How's that baby, Mrs Walburton?
-Oh, she's fine, thank you. -Well done, you.
-Morning. -Morning, James.
-Coffee still hot? -Yes, just made. Shall I, er...
No, I can manage.
I wonder if I could have the sugar, please, James.
Thank you.
No, I'll have it black.
-You've been over to Lord Hulton's, then? -Yes, all done.
How did it go?
All right. Straightforward enough.
Classical torsion, several loops of bowel involved, black and tympanitic.
You did well, James, well.
Oh, good.
(LAUGHS) Had you sweating a bit there, didn't I?
Yes, you could say that.
Well, you can stop sweating now.
Damn good thing you put the poor beggar out of his misery.
You've got nothing to worry about.
It's more than I can say for that wretched man Soames.
He was there, was he?
He was there trying to mix you a bottle. I soon put a stop to that.
I asked him how he thought Lord Hulton was going to feel when he found out
how long he kept his favourite hunter suffering before calling us in.
-Gave him something to chew on, I can tell you. -Yes, I can imagine!
Are you ready?
Yes.
Let's go have a look at the day book, and see if we can't find you
a few trouble-free cases this time.
Ah, yes, I know.
Handshaw's farm. Course, you won't know who that is, will you?
Er, no.
I'll write it down for you.
Um... One of his cows has had milk fever.
I've given her a couple of injections, but according to old Handshaw,
she still won't get off her backside.
-Have a look at her for me, will you? -Right.
You get there on the Borton Road, third turn to the left,
just after the cock hatch.
All right?
-How's that look to you? -Thanks.
Do me a favour while you're out, will you, James?
Yes, of course.
I have my brother arriving today, he's been at veterinary college.
His term finished yesterday.
His train's due in at midday. Would you mind picking him up?
Yes, of course. How will I recognise him?
You shouldn't have any trouble there, he looks rather like me, I suppose.
Except he's a fresh-faced kid.
Rings under his eyes. Bit like a debauched choirboy. (CHUCKLES)
-His name's Tristan, by the way. -Tristan?
-Yeah. -Really?
Father was dotty about Wagner.
Quite partial to a bit of Wagner myself.
But you weren't subjected to it, were you? Morning, noon and night.
Or stuck with a ridiculous name like Siegfried.
Still... Thank you.
I suppose it could have been worse.
Could've been, er, Wotan.
-Or Pogner. -I'd forgotten about old Pogner!
-Pogner Farnon. -Sounds like a south coast holiday resort.
(BOTH CHUCKLE)
Yes!
Bitch. Bloody lazy bitch.
She's got it into her today, Arthur.
Yeah, the bitch that she is.
Have you tried rubbing her tail between two sticks?
Or setting a strange dog on her. That usually does the trick.
A strange dog.
Good morning.
-What do you want? -Mr Hanshall?
Handshaw.
Oh, yes, of course. Sorry! It's his handwriting.
-I said what do you want? -James Herriot, Mr Farnon's new assistant.
Where's Mr Farnon?
He's not coming. He asked me to have a look at her.
Oh, hell, that's all we need.
This is the lady in question, is it?
This ear's very wet!
-Well, it will be. -Oh?
-Water. -Pardon?
Water. Surely you've heard of that.
If they'll not get up, try pouring a bottle of cold water
down their lughole. Old trick of my dad's, were that.
And we did know about stuff, me dad.
I see.
Did it have any effect?
Oh, it doesn't always work.
Let's not muck about. Get her tail whipped off and let's have done with it.
And how is that gonna help, Mr Handshaw?
Worm in the tail, it's obviously what's doing her.
There's no such complaint as worm in the tail, Mr Handshaw. That's just a popular myth.
Every cow I've ever seen's got up damn quick when she's had her tail off.
Well, she would. Wouldn't you?
The pain must be quite excruciating.
New at this game, are you?
Reasonably.
Aye. And Scotch, so they tell me.
"Aye"!
That's right!
You could try shouting down her lughole.
What?
Shouting down her lughole. Haven't you heard of that one, either?
Well, I suppose anything's worth a try. Help yourself.
(CHUCKLES)
Thou are the vet.
Cush!
Beg your pardon?
That's what they shout at cows. Cush.
Cush.
(IN DEEPER VOICE) Cush.
Aye, is that best tha can do?
(SHOUTS) Cush!
Come on!
There you go. Go on. Get down there!
Rock her gently from side to side, will you, please?
And again.
Yes. I suspected as much.
-What? -I'm sorry, Mr Handshaw. This cow has a broken pelvis.
And damaged nerve endings as well, I shouldn't wonder.
It probably happened the first night when she was staggering around with the milk fever.
I'm afraid that's one cow that's never going to get up again.
Best thing you can do is get her down to the butcher's as quickly as possible.
There must be something you can do.
I'm afraid there isn't, Mr Handshaw.
If me dad were alive, he'd have done something.
I hardly think so. Not with a broken pelvis.
Dad! Hey, Dad!
-Dad! -What?
Some daft bugger's left top gate open!
There's cows all over the meadow and some in the corn field.
You...
-Tristan Farnon, I presume? -Yes!
-James Herriot, your brother's new assistant. -Oh, hello! Thanks.
-JAMES: You'll have just finished your exams, then? -That's right.
-Pathology and parasitology. -Oh, yes!
-Good journey down? -Slept for most of it.
Oh. Really?
-Bit of a roughish end of term party last night. -Ah!
Swinging the lamp and telling the tale, eh?
Mine was with a couple of girlfriends, actually.
Oh!
Really?
Hey, you! Herriot!
Hello, Mr Handshaw!
I just thought I'd let you know you'll not be getting paid
for that professional advice you gave me.
Oh?
That cow will never get up again, he says.
Get her down to the butcher's, he says.
Half an hour later, she's up on her feet, trotting around like a 2-year-old.
That's impossible!
Oh, I went down to the butcher's, all right.
Got myself a fresh killed sheepskin.
I put it on her back and, whoosh, up she gets in no time.
What do you think of that, then, eh?
Old trick of me dad's, of course.
Now, he knew about stock.
Mrs Hall!
-Hello, Master Tristan! -How do you do it?
-What's that? -Manage to look younger every time I see you.
Oh! Get away with you and your bother!
-Is my brother in? -No, he won't be back till tonight.
-The old sheepskin trick, hmm? -You've heard of it before, have you?
Oh, yes.
Works like a sort of a poke, you see?
Damned uncomfortable, I would think.
Well, if a cow is lying there out of sheer discomfort,
she will sometimes get up just to be rid of it.
Amazing, isn't it, how there is often
a grain of sense in these old quack remedies?
-Cheerio. -Good health.
-It still doesn't make any kind of sense, though. -What?
That cow had a broken pelvis. I definitely heard the bones creaking.
Oh, yes.
-The cow had recently calved, hadn't she? -Yes.
-There you are, then, you see. -What do you mean?
In some cows, the pelvic ligaments
don't always tighten up for a few days and it can give the same effect.
Oh, I see.
Still and all, I think it's only fair to warn you.
What's that?
That cow's about to become a celebrity, if I know old Handshaw.
He's gonna show her off to every last man in the district
as the cow that Mr Herriot said would never walk again.
(SCOFFS)
Oh, you're down at last, are you?
Thought I'd take a bath, freshen up a bit.
How are you?
Fine.
Do you mind if I, um...
Help yourself.
So... How did the exams go?
Not bad. I did all right in parasitology.
And pathology?
I didn't do quite so well in pathology. Didn't get it.
-You failed pathology? -Right.
Still, that's pretty good, you know?
-Pretty good? -Getting parasitology.
And pathology's a very tough subject.
-Oh, it was tough! -You can sit it -again at Christmas.
-There is always Christmas. -Yeah!
-And you think that's pretty good, do you? -Well...
-Yes. -I don't think it's pretty good.
I think it's awful. (SHOUTING) A damn disgrace!
Just what the hell have you been doing all this term?
Boozing, I suppose. Chasing women, I suppose. Spending my money!
And now you have the nerve to come in here and tell me that you failed pathology.
Well, I've had enough this time.
I'm sick of you, you see? Sick!
I'm not going to go on working my fingers to the bone
just to keep you there idling away your time.
-(STUTTERS) -Shut up!
You're sacked! Do you hear me? You're sacked!
Go on, get out of here! I don't want to see you around here any more!
Get out! (SPITS)
Parasite!
Oh, it's all right, dogs. Calm down, calm down.
(KNOCK AT DOOR)
Come in.
-Oh, hello, James. -Er, no, I won't, thanks.
I'm sorry about the way things have worked out.
(SIGHS) Could've been worse.
It's bad enough, though, isn't it?
-What are you gonna do? -Do?
Well, now that he's kicked you out.
I mean, for a start, where are you going to sleep tonight?
-Well, here. Where else? -But he sacked you!
Oh, he's always doing that!
Always forgets immediately afterwards.
Oh, I see.
That was the tricky part, of course,
getting him to swallow that bit about parasitology.
Parasitology, but you said you passed in parasitology!
No, I didn't. You did. What I said was I'd done all right.
You flunked that one as well?
Oh, yes. Still, as you said yourself, there's always Christmas, eh?
Yes.
(PHONE RINGS)
-I'll get it, Siegfried. -God, no, you won't.
Hello, yes?
Oh, Mrs Pumphrey...
Tricki-woo's gone what? Flop Bot again? I see.
Ah, well, I'll send someone out to see him.
Goodbye.
Mrs Pumphrey. Tricki-woo's started
-going Flop Bot again. -Tricki-who?
-Woo. -Flop Bot?
-For you. -What?
The blasted telephone.
-I hear no telephone. -Of course you don't. I just answered it!
How many times have I got to tell you, it is your job
to take the early morning calls? Your job!
Now will you get out of that damn bed?
(CHUCKLING)
SIEGFRIED: No, no, it's perfectly true.
She's a widow, worth a fortune. Her old man was a beer baron.
Had breweries all over Yorkshire till he popped off.
-Who's Tricki-woo? -Her Pekinese.
-Oh, I see! I've never heard of that condition it had. -Oh, yeah.
-Flop Bot. -(SNIGGERS) Yeah, that's it.
-That's one of Mrs Pumphrey's own. -Oh, yes?
The woman feeds her dog all the wrong things, and as a result he's overweight
and subject to impacted anal glands.
Every so often, the condition becomes acute and he simply flops down in mid-walk
and refuses to go any further.
(LAUGHING) Flop Bot.
Hodgekin.
Hodgekin!
-Yes, ma'am? -Leave that now and come along.
Time for Tricki-woo's exercise, Hodgekin.
Now, Uncle Hodgekin will throw our rings for us
and we'll all have a lovely game!
Off we go then, Uncle Hodgekin.
There!
Little swine.
Oh, a little further than that, Hodgekin!
Not into the rose bed, Hodgekin!
We don't want Tricki to get pricky-paw!
-Who wouldn't? -What was that?
What was that you said, Hodgekin?
-Mrs Pumphrey? -Yes?
-My name's James Herriot, from Mr Farnon's. -Oh, yes, of course.
-Let me help you. -Oh, thank you.
Delighted! Oh, Mr Herriot, thank heavens you've come so quickly.
You've no idea what agonies my poor darling's been going through.
Come along, Tricki. Time for examination.
Fetch!
-You're quite sure he'll be all right, now? -Oh, yes.
Good.
-Here you are. -Ah.
-Oh, and do help yourself to biscuits. -Thank you.
-Cheers! -Cheerio.
-So, you were trained in Scotland, then? -Right.
-(BANGS PIANO KEYS) -(CHUCKLES)
Tricki's always been passionately fond of the Scots.
He met an Aberdeen terrier when he was on holiday in Scarborough once,
-and they absolutely adored one another! -Really?
And of course, apart from Flop Bot, he's been in a very happy mood today,
-because of his win. -His win?
A shilling each way on Canny Laddy at Redcar yesterday.
He got nine shillings back. His horses always win, you know.
The bookmaker in town loves him.
Yes, I can imagine.
-Mind you, he has disappointed me about the summer house. -Oh, yes?
Well, you see, I had it built specially so we could sit out together
on warm summer afternoons,
but he's taken the most violent dislike to it.
-Oh, dear. Really? -Yesterday he called it "that bloody hut."
-Good grief! -I can't think where he picks up such language.
-Unless, of course, it's from Hodgekin. -Ah.
He doesn't care what he comes out with.
He is a bit overweight, you know, Mrs Pumphrey.
-Hodgekin? -No, Tricki-woo.
Oh, yes, I know, but, well, I mean, what can one do?
I mean, he does get so bored with chicken.
He was telling his pen friend only the other day.
His pen friend?
Oh, yes! He has a pen friend!
It all started when he wrote a letter to The Doggy Times, sending a donation.
-Oh, yes? -He told the editor that although he was descended from
a long line of Chinese emperors,
he decided to come down anyway and mingle with the ordinary dogs.
-So, would the editor please find him a pen friend? -Really?
And he got the most beautiful letter back from the editor,
saying that he would see what he could do.
Bonzo Fotheringham.
I beg your pardon?
-That's his name. -The editor?
No. His pen friend. He's a lonely Dalmatian.
-Oh, I see. -Tricki always sends him a hamper at Christmastime
-from Fortnum's. -Bonzo Fotheringham?
No, the editor!
Ah.
(RINGS DOORBELL)
-Hasn't Siegfried surfaced yet? -Just about.
-In a pretty vile humour, I'm afraid. -Oh?
He was up most of the night over at Whiteley's place with one of the cows.
Seems to blame you for it.
Me?
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)
Nigel, leave that for a moment.
-Now, today is market day, right? -Right.
All the bills went out on Wednesday,
and everyone will be queuing up shortly to give us their money.
I want you to devote the entire day to taking it from them.
-All right? -Right?
Take the money, give them a receipt. Then write their names
down in the receipt book. Do you think you can manage that
without making a bloody hash of it?
I think I might just be able to cope.
Then get on with it. You'll find the receipt book over there on the desk.
Er...
Morning.
-Morning, James. -Bit of a late night, then?
Eh, you could say that.
I got to bed just before dawn.
Thanks largely to you, I might add.
Me?
One of the Whiteley's cows has a mild impaction.
He's been messing about with it himself for weeks.
Then, suddenly at 4:00 in the morning, he decides to call us in.
I'm afraid I can't see the connection.
I haven't been near the Whiteleys for weeks.
But you were there last. That's when the damage was done, wasn't it?
When I pointed out what time it was,
he came back at me by saying that you said
we would turn out at any time of the day or night.
I understood that that was our policy, Siegfried.
All I'm saying, James, is that you're spoiling these chaps.
If I didn't turn out, I'd be worried sick in case the animal died on me.
Well, it did die, my dear boy.
Perhaps they'll call us in a little bit earlier.
There's nothing like a dead animal for bringing people to their senses.
I'll try and remember that, Siegfried.
SIEGFRIED: Hi, Mrs Hall.
-For me? -It's got your name on it.
It's not your birthday, is it, lad?
Not that I'm aware of, no.
Oh-ho!
-Stilton. My very favourite. -Ah.
A certain good lady of this parish was on the telephone yesterday,
inquiring after your gastronomic inclinations.
-Oh? -She said her dog wanted to know.
MRS PUMPHREY: "Dear Uncle Herriot, just a small token of appreciation
"for services rendered.
"Yours affectionately, Tricki-woo.
"PS. I've told Bonzo Fotheringham what gentle hands you have
"and he says that if ever he's afflicted by Flop Bot himself,
"he'll certainly be in touch."
-Now, isn't that sweet? -Do you mind?
Who the hell's Bonzo Fotheringham?
Well, if you must know,
he's a lonely Dalmatian.
Hello, Mr Herriot! Darling, it's Uncle Herriot on the phone.
JAMES: I just wanted to say thank you very much for the Stilton.
Oh, how nice. Just hold on and I'll get him.
Hello?
Here he is. He's listening now.
Who's listening, Mrs Pumphrey?
Tricki-woo, of course! I thought you said you wanted to thank him for the cheese.
Well, yes, I did.
Go on, then, Uncle Herriot. Tricki's waiting.
Hello, Tricki. Uncle Herriot here.
I just want to say thank you very much for the cheese.
It was very sweet of you.
Well, I have to be going now. Don't forget,
less sweet biscuits and more protein. There's a good dog.
Bye.
(BABY CRYING)
-Mr Dean? -Aye.
You're the vet, are you?
James Herriot, yes.
Come in, lad.
Am I interrupting your dinner?
Nae, I'd just finished.
Bit of a tip, I'm afraid.
I'm on me own now, do you see.
Since we put her in the ground last year.
It can't be easy managing on the pension these days.
Nae. It's the young'uns I feel sorry for. The ones with kids to bring up.
This is the patient, is it?
Aye. He's the one.
(WHISPERING) It's all right.
He's getting on a bit, isn't he?
Oh, aye. Nearly 14 now, you know.
Wonderful dog for his age, though.
Been galloping about just like a pup up to this last week.
Never bit once in his life!
Lets the kids do whatever they want with him.
He's all I've got left now, is our Bob.
You will be able to put him right, won't you, Mr Herriot?
Is he off his food at all?
Clean off. And that isn't him, isn't that.
Hmm.
There's some swelling in the abdomen here.
Let's just see if we can turn him over, shall we?
-Come on, old boy. -It's all right, lad.
-Come on. Easy. -That's it. There's a good dog.
He's going to make you better.
You can put him right, can't you?
You see that swelling there, Mr Dean?
Aye.
That's caused by an internal growth.
-Cancer? -Yes.
Is there owt you can do?
I only wish there were.
He's going to die, then.
We can't just leave him to die, can we, Mr Dean?
He's in distress now, but it's going to get a lot worse.
What I mean is, wouldn't it be kinder simply just to put him to sleep?
After all, he's had a good, long innings.
You've got the stuff you use with you?
Yes.
Then, will you do it now?
Please?
It is, um, quite painless, you know, Mr Dean.
It's just an overdose of anaesthetic.
It's just like...
It's just like going to sleep.
Come on, old boy.
Is that it?
Yes.
Thank you.
What do I owe you?
Oh, that's all right, Mr Dean.
Nae, I'll not see you do it for nothing.
It's all right, honestly.
I was passing anyway.
Would you like me to take him away?
Nae. I'll see to him.
Right, well, goodbye, Mr Dean, and, er, sorry.
Mr Herriot?
Summat I've been saving.
For a rainy day. I... I'd like you to have it.
Thank you, Mr Dean.
Thank you very much.
You're very welcome, lad.
Bye, Mr Dean.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Hello.
Oh, it's you!
-Waiting for Siegfried? -No, I'm waiting for a train.
(LAUGHING) Oh, that's very good.
-Would you like a drink? -I've had a drink.
-Well, have another drink. -Good Lord, man.
Does Siegfried know you're here?
I should think so. He brought me.
Ah.
-Phew! Hot. -What?
-The weather. -Oh.
I shouldn't be surprised if there wasn't a drought.
-Shouldn't you? -No!
I really shouldn't. Not at all.
-Hello, James. -Hello.
Sorry to keep you waiting, Diana.
I'm sure James has been entertaining you.
It's been riveting.
Ah! Good.
Now, I wanted a word with James. I wonder if you'd wait for me in the car.
Oh, very well.
Bye!
Ah, James, you're on call this evening, aren't you?
Yes.
Yes, well, I shouldn't be late.
There was just one thing that came up while you were out.
Old Sumner rang and said he'd telephoned the other night
said you refused to turn out because it was the middle of the night. Is that right?
Yes.
It's not like you, that, James.
He's a good client. I wouldn't want to lose him.
Oh, it was only a chronic mastitis.
I thought it was perfectly safe to leave it until the following day.
-My dear James. -Hmm?
The fundamental rule of our profession...
Day or night, rain or shine,
if asked to attend we must attend.
The animal might die.
Would that be such a bad thing?
-What? -Remember what you said?
"There's nothing like a dead animal for bringing them to their senses."
-I said? -Yes!
What absolute nonsense!
Siegfried, you...
James, I don't want to hear any more about it!
From now on, write it in letters of fire across your soul.
If asked to attend, I must attend!
I must attend.
(SIEGFRIED AND DIANA CHATTER INAUDIBLY)
(MOUTHING)
(PIANO PLAYING LOUDLY)
(WHISPERS INAUDIBLY)
-Come on! -Where are you going?
-You'll see. -Just a minute.
Come on!
(PHONE RINGS)
-What are you doing? -Shh.
JAMES: Hello, yes?
(IN YORKSHIRE DIALECT) Oh, is that Farnon's? I want to speak to Mr Farnon, please.
I'm afraid Mr Farnon isn't in. Can I help?
I'd rather have your boss, but I suppose tha'll have to do.
-This is Simms here, of Beale Close. -Oh, yes.
Tha knows my place, does tha?
That's the one with the nine different gates, isn't it?
Aye, that's the one. And make sure to close all of them after tha this time.
JAMES: What exactly is the trouble?
I'll tell you what the trouble is.
I've got this great big horse and daft bugger's gone and cut himself.
I see. And where exactly has he cut himself?
On his hind leg just above his hock.
I want him stitched straight away.
And how big is the wound?
Oh, about a foot and half long, and bleeding like hell!
When you're stitching him, you'd better watch it. He can kick a fly's eye out.
Blacksmith's scared to death of him.
Right.
If you can have a couple of chaps standing by, Mr Simms
in case we have to throw him...
Throw him? You'll never throw this fella. He'll kill you first.
And anyroad, I've no men here this time of night.
You'll just have to manage on your own.
I see. I'll get there as quickly as I can, Mr Simms.
-Oh, you've heard about the road, have you? -Road?
Road up to my place. Got washed away in the floods the other night.
You'll have to walk the last mile and a half on foot.
(BOTH LAUGHING)
Hello?
And get a move on, will you? I don't want to keep him waiting all night!
I'm not sure I like your tone, Mr Simms.
Oh, tha doesn't like my tone, doesn't tha?
I'll tell you what I don't like.
Well, I don't like is useless young apprentices buggering about with me stock!
-Tha knows nowt about tha job. -(BOTH LAUGHING)
You can't talk to me like that! Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?
Mr Simms, you can take it from me that if it wasn't for that poor animal,
I wouldn't be coming out at all, Mr Simms.
(LAUGHTER CONTINUES)
Are you there, Mr Simms?
(LAUGHTER CONTINUES)
Hello?
You really should take it easy or you'll burst a blood vessel!
(BOTH LAUGHING)
Tristan?
Tristan, is that you?
-(LAUGHTER CONTINUES) -One of these...
Tristan, have you got someone there with you?
Now you listen to me!
One of these days I'm gonna murder you!
I'll probably kill him!
What?
If he's found strangled one of these mornings,
you can put me down as prime suspect.
Who's that?
-Your batty brother. -Oh, him!
Just a boy, James, full of youthful high spirits.
You only must learn to take these things in your stride, James.
Really?
Professional men all over the country worry themselves into early graves,
and do you know why?
Because they allow themselves to get all steamed up over little piffling things!
You should ask yourself, James, is it worth it?
It'll all be the same in 100 years' time.
-Thank you. -Any messages?
-Just one. -Ah-ha.
-Ned Holt wanted you. -Ah! Dear old Ned.
Probably my very favourite customer.
Looked after his herd for years.
-And do you know how much I've charged him? -No.
Not one red cent!
Far too nice a fellow.
-About the cow, was it? -Yes.
He told me to tell you that she was fine now.
Yes, I thought she probably would be.
There's a current tympani, you know?
Nothing seemed to do her any good, and then, quite suddenly,
it struck me.
-Oh, yes? -Of course.
-Actinobacillosis of the reticulum. -Ah.
So I shot some sodium iodide into her.
There you are, you see.
-He says she's all right, does he? -Yes.
Though he thought she would be by tonight.
He said that he gave her half a pound of Epsom salts in her bran mash.
-He said what? -Half a pound of Epsom salts in her bran mash.
The bugger! I'll strangle him!
Yes, I thought you might.
Yeah. Get me 203.
Still, Siegfried, like you said,
no point getting into a state about these things.
After all, it'll all still be here in 100 years.
I want to speak to Ned Holt.
(YELLING) Well, get the bugger out of bed!
(LIVELY MUSIC PLAYS ON RADIO)
-James, something terrible's happened. -You've been sacked?
-No. -You're trying to cheer me up.
-It's not funny. I've lost it. I can't find it anywhere. -What?
The receipt book. The one I was listing the bills in yesterday.
Without it, I have no blind idea who paid what and who didn't.
-It must be somewhere! -No!
It's gone. I've been searching for hours.
Oh, dear.
Look, it's no joke, James. You know what this means, don't you?
Yes! It means I'm not gonna be the one to murder you after all.
Siegfried will do the job for me.
It means all the people who paid their bills yesterday
are going to get them again next month.
Then there'll be hell to pay.
I believe there is a job going on the Leewood Islands.
At least help me look for it!
I'm afraid I can't. I have an appointment with Tricki-woo.
-It seems he's gone crack-a-dog. -Crack-a-dog?
-According to Mrs Pumphrey. -What the hell's crack-a-dog?
Do you know, I can't wait to find out.
Ah, that sounds like Siegfried now.
-(DOOR SLAMS) -Break it to him gently, eh, about the receipt book?
Morning, Siegfried!
Morning, James. Hello, little brother.
-Now, then... -Siegfried?
-Yeah. -You won't believe this,
but the damnedest thing's happened.
Oh?
(MUMBLING) It should do because... On the 24th, there's something...
-Mean anything to you? -No.
-Would you like one? -Hmm?
Oh, yes. Thank you!
BOTH: Tricki-woo?
(LAUGHING) Yes!
I hope you remembered to thank him.
Yes, I'll give Mrs Pumphrey a ring.
You know, my last assistant did even better than you out of that dog.
-Oh? -Oh, yes.
I mean, boxes of kippers for the post every time Tricki went to the seaside.
Hampers from Fortnum's at Christmas.
But then of course, he was rather better organised than you are.
Oh?
I mean, he'd...
He'd never telephone to say thank you.
He used to write to the dog personally.
-Really? -Yeah.
Amazing, isn't it, the lengths to which some people will go?
Isn't it though?
(DOGS BARK)
-Are you all right? -Shattered.
-Like I've been run over by a steamroller. -I'm not surprised.
One of the hardest jobs in country practice,
putting a cow's calf back into her.
Like trying to fill a needle with a sausage.
You can say that again.
You know, I'm sure this sort of thing isn't good for me.
-It's a great feeling, somehow. -What?
That blissful moment when the whole thing suddenly slips back inside.
You know you've finally managed it.
I see nothing remotely poetic in watching a
cow's engorged uterus disappearing.
You know why he sent me on this job with you in the first place, don't you?
Revenge for losing that bloody receipt book.
Oh, well. It's all over now.
(SHEEP BLEATING)
Let's just hope it doesn't come out again.
Do you think there's a chance it might?
Oh, yes! Happens quite often.
-But I'm on duty this afternoon. On my own! -Oh, well.
We'll just have to keep our fingers crossed for you, won't we?
-What's his name? -Bob.
Oh, I see.
Well, when old Bob went, I vowed I'd never have another.
But when they brought him round to me... They couldn't afford to keep him.
If I hadn't, I reckon we'd have found him at the bottom of river in a bag
with a brick, just like the rest of the litter.
-Well, I'm glad. -(CHUCKLES)
-You're right fond of animals, aren't you, Mr Herriot? -It's my job.
Doesn't always follow.
-Thanks for the tea, Mr Dean. -Thanks for calling to see me.
-Any time. -Right.
-Oh, Mr Herriot? -Hmm?
Have you smoked that cigar yet?
Saving it.
(LAUGHS) Just like I did.
(BOTH LAUGH)
(WHISTLING)
(PHONE RINGS)
Hello, yes?
Is that Farnon's?
TRISTAN: Yes.
Are you the young fella that's put our cow's calf bed back this morning?
That's right.
Oh. Well, I've got some very bad news for you.
Oh, really?
Aye.
-It's all come out? -Aye. It has.
Oh, no! Surely it's not all come out?
That's it. Scissors, please, Tris.
(SIEGFRIED MUMBLES)
I'll get even with you, just watch it.
(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
Mrs Pumphrey, hello!
Hello.
SIEGFRIED: Good morning, Mrs Pumphrey.
Tricki-woo asked me to call here to thank you for your letter.
Oh, that?
Not at all. Thank you for the cigars.
Just one thing. Next time you write to him...
Well, you know you addressed your letter to "Mr Tricki"?
-Yes? -I'm afraid he does insist on "Tricki-woo, Esquire."
-Ah. -At first he was terribly affronted
but when he found out it was from Uncle Herriot,
-he soon recovered his temper. -Oh, good.
I can't think why he should have these little prejudices.
Do you think it's because he's an only dog?
-Yes! I suppose that could well be it, yes. -Yes.
I was...
Oh, well, goodbye for now.
TRISTAN: Goodbye, Mrs Pumphrey. JAMES: Bye, Mrs Pumphrey.
(BOTH LAUGHING)
(SIGHS)