TRISTAN: Anything interesting in the post?
The usual collection of circulars and bills.
The odd threatening letter for you...
From the father of some poor girl.
Here's a letter from old Stewie Brannen, James. Do you remember Stewie?
Oh, I should say so! That day at Broughton Races.
(LAUGHING)
I never could make out why they didn't get around offering me that job.
Couldn't have anything to do with the fact you got blind drunk
and wiped the windscreen of your car with a dead chicken, I suppose.
-(JAMES LAUGHS) -Have you the remotest idea what those things
that you forever have in your mouth are doing to your lungs?
-What? -I have a vision of your bronchial passages
glistening with anthracite like the galleries of a coal mine.
-Charming. -And shouldn't you be taking Mrs Hall to the station?
-Yes. -Well, then hadn't you better find out
whether or not she's ready?
-Are you ready yet, Mrs Hall? -Aye. As I'll ever be, I suppose.
A few sandwiches for your journey, Mrs Hall.
Oh, thank you very much, Mrs Herriot.
Now, you have a good rest.
Oh! Fat chance with my cousin.
She'll have me rushing around like a scalded cat.
She were born to be a lady, that one.
The trouble is...they weren't taking any at the time.
-You're off then, Mrs Hall, are you? -Aye, that's right.
Are you sure you can manage?
My dear, Mrs Hall, we're not as helpless as all that.
We just give a good impression that we are.
Aye. Well, look what happened the last time I went
-to look after my sister. -(DOOR OPENS)
-Bye-bye. -Goodbye, Mrs Hall.
MRS HALL: Bye. Thank you, Mr Tristan.
Have a good time. Look after yourself, Mrs Hall.
There's more coffee on the pot if anybody wants some.
-JAMES: Hmm. -Oh, well done, Helen.
SIEGFRIED: Dear old Stewie...
-It's a shame really. -Why? What's wrong with him?
Oh, nothing that a good break and a drop of sea air wouldn't cure.
The difficulty is getting it, of course.
-How do you mean? -Well, it's not as easy as all that, James.
Stewie's very much a one-man band and he's in a pretty poor area.
And he can't just up sticks and-away
and to hell with the practice for a fortnight, you see.
Well, can't he get a locum in?
-Well, yes, he could, of course. -Hmm.
The question is, who.
You see...
Hensfield's hardly Harrogate, you know.
What about Tristan?
My good James, Stewie Brannen's a very dear friend of mine.
Can you imagine launching an unsupervised Tristan
on a totally unsuspecting neighbourhood?
Answering the telephone in a Chinese accent,
doing his driverless car act around the marketplace, it would be wanton cruelty.
Well, I would volunteer to go myself, Siegfried, if we weren't so busy here.
Would you really, James?
Well, yes, of course I would.
Well, it's extraordinary you should say that
because I was talking to Stewie just the other day about this.
-Your name came up in this context. -Oh, yes?
Yes. He said that, he couldn't think of a better chap to entrust the practice to.
Really?
Yes. Would you be prepared to go over next Monday?
You take Helen with you, of course.
Well, that's fine, Siegfried, but isn't that rather short notice
-for him to get himself digs and things? -Well, no, you see, it isn't.
Actually, he's got a flat lined up in Blackpool for Monday next.
Ah!
(STUTTERING) Right. Well, I'll telephone him straightaway, shall I?
And confirm that you're coming. Well done, James.
He'll be in your debt for life.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Right. We're off.
Ah, dear, right. Got your gas masks?
Yes. What are you going to do about meals?
Don't worry about that, Helen. You see before you one
who is not only prepared to undertake it, but who is also basking in
what he believes to be the success of his last housekeeping enterprise.
And he is also one who has the time to devote to it
since he spends most of his time sitting on his backside doing nothing.
Do you mind?
Yes, little brother, I do mind, actually,
but my frequent protests fall on deaf ears...
-Will you be all right, Tris? -Yes, of course, I will. In fact, I'll enjoy it.
It'll make a nice change from sticking my hand up the odd cow,
risking life and limb in somebody's pigsty
and all the other dirty jobs I seem to be lumbered with around here.
SIEGFRIED: Tristan, don't try and make her cry.
TRISTAN: Of course, it will mean while I'm doing that, Siegfried,
you'll have to bear the brunt of the veterinary work.
I mean, food doesn't just leap onto one's plate, you know.
Preparation and lots of it
and time devoted to the purchasing, especially of meat.
That's the secret of haute cuisine.
In fact, mother's going to miss you quite a lot this next fortnight.
-(SIGHS) Ready? -Yes.
See you two in a fortnight.
Right, you two. You are bricks, you really are.
-Have a nice time. -Bye.
-Bye-bye.
-Don't work too hard now. -Bye, Siegfried. No.
-Good luck, James. -Thank you. Bye.
-Bye! -(DOOR SLAMS)
What time do you make it, Siegfried?
Um... 12:00...just.
Gosh, how time flies when you're happy in your work, eh?
Yeah.
Where are you going?
I'm just popping out for a few minutes. Won't be very long.
Popping out? Shouldn't you be popping into the kitchen, getting starting with lunch?
"Preparation and lots of it. That's the secret of haute cuisine."
There are things I need, Siegfried.
Yeah, such as a pint of best Yorkshire bitter perhaps down at the Drovers?
-The Drovers? Good Lord, no. My drinking days are over. -Hmm.
No, no, I'm talking about herbs and spices, that sort of thing.
My dear boy, Mrs Hall's cupboard is groaning with herbs and spices.
Yes, Mrs Hall, competent enough performer in the kitchen, I grant you
but when it comes to herbs and spices,
she does rather tend to err on the side of caution a bit, don't you think?
-See you. -(DOOR OPENS)
(INDISTINCT SCREAMING)
-Bump. -Turn right here.
Right.
There we are, Westmoreland Street.
And...
Come on.
Hello.
Friendly little soul.
(DOOR OPENS)
WOMAN: Oh, come in out of the wind.
(DOOR CLOSES)
Veterinary is away on his holidays.
Well, yes, I know. I'm James Herriot.
-Oh? -Well, I'm standing in for him while he's away.
Oh? Oh, well, you best go in the surgery.
Thank you.
This is where he sees the animals.
Oh, good.
-Hmm. Good. -(THUD)
Oh, you'll ought to watch that.
It's inclined to do that, is that.
Really?
So Mr Brannen's already gone, is he?
Off to Blackpool at the crack of dawn.
It were like, the flight from Egypt.
Well, I don't know what's wrong with Scarborough, meself.
If he gets that lot over them Pennines in that old car,
it'll be the biggest miracle since the parting of the Dead Sea.
-Oh, this is my wife Helen. -Hello.
I'm Mrs Holroyd, as does for him.
Oh, yes?
Well, you'll want to do for him, won't you, I mean, while you're here?
Well, yes. I think so.
Mine went to his heavenly reward years ago.
-Pardon? -Eric, my husband.
-Oh, yes? -Well, he were never in anyroad.
Well, I expect you'd like some tea.
Lovely.
(SIGHS)
Yes. Well, it's...
It's hardly Harrogate.
Never mind, love. We'll manage.
-We've always got Mrs Holroyd. -(LAUGHS)
Oh, whatever am I gonna do, James, when you're called up?
Well, you never know, I may turn out to have flat feet or something.
Anyway, there's always Richard Edmundson.
I bet he's got flat feet.
(CHUCKLES)
Love you.
JAMES: Oh!
-Oh, it must have come undone in the car. -Excuse me.
-It's at the end of the landing. -What is, Mrs Holroyd?
Your room.
-(BOTH LAUGHING) -Shh.
Here.
Now then.
Pass me the butter, would you, like a good fellow?
Thank you.
I say, would you care for a bottle of beer?
Oh, why not?
(GRUNTS)
There you are.
Now then.
Bon appetit.
Cheers. (CLEARS THROAT)
Oh, I think perhaps just a soupcon
of good old English mustard. What do you say?
Mmm-hmm.
Oh!
Piggy.
Do you want some?
Tristan... This is a great deal better than dog's meat stew.
-You know you've surpassed yourself this time. -Thank you.
-I didn't know you could cook like this. -Well...
Of course, one would do more, but one doesn't like to upset Mrs Hall.
I must admit the bangers and mash
are something of a piece de resistance of mine.
-Really? -Hmm. Oh, yes. One doesn't want to boast, you know,
but at college, my bangers and mash were something of a watchword.
-Especially at midnight feasts. -Is that true?
Hmm. You know, it's been said more than once,
and well within my hearing down the student pubs,
"Old Tristan may not know his onions as far as parasitology is concerned,
"but he certainly knows his sausages."
(BOTH LAUGHING)
Yes, the less said about that, the better.
But you know, Tristan, moments like this...
It does make one think, doesn't it?
I mean, Steak au poivre, is all very well.
Pate de foie gras, coq au vin...
But when you really get down to it, there's nothing that compares
with old-fashioned honest to goodness,
-plain English cooking, don't you agree? -Right.
Poor James doesn't know what he's missing.
-Oh, you got my note, then? -Oh, yes, thanks, Mrs Holroyd.
Came about half an hour ago when missus was down at the shops.
Ah. Unusual name, Pimarov.
MRS HOLROYD: Well, that were what he said.
Well, a foreign gentleman, was he? Russian, perhaps?
Well, if he were. I don't know who it was who learned him to speak English.
He sounded right broad Yorkshire to me.
Uh-huh.
Pimarov... In Hensfield. (CHUCKLES)
He's probably a spy or a saboteur or something.
We have been told to look out for them.
Ah.
(CHUCKLES)
What's the address, Mrs Holroyd?
Well, how would I know that?
-Well, he asked me to visit, didn't he? -That's right.
Well, I can't visit unless I have an address.
Oh, well, you know best about that I'm sure, Mr Herriot.
He must have left some sort of address, Mrs Holroyd.
All he said to me were his name was Pimarov
and he had this poorly bulldog as needed seeing to.
Well, now, if that isn't good enough for you, Mr Herriot,
I'm very sorry, but I'm just a hewer of wood
and a drawer of water around here.
Well, that's all I'm paid for, you know,
hewing wood and drawing water,
not to be your personal and private secretary.
Thank you, Mrs Holroyd.
(DOOR BELL RINGS)
-Is Mr Brannen in, please? -Oh, I'm afraid Mr Brannen's on holidays. Can I help?
Oh! It's Kim, our dog. He's been run over and he's in an awful state.
-Shh! I'll get my husband. James! -Yes?
Oh, it's their dog. He's had an accident.
Oh, right. Could you bring him down here, please?
Blast. Sorry about that.
It's one of the wonders of modern science, this table.
The miracle being that it stays up at all.
Right.
All right, old fellow. It's all right.
I say, poor old chap.
-Do you live around here? -No, Surrey, actually.
-We're up here on holiday in a caravan. -Oh!
There is something you can do, isn't there?
Well, he's pretty badly chewed up, I'm afraid.
What happened?
He got out of the car and ran off. It was my fault.
Don't be silly, darling. Of course it wasn't.
I stopped to get a paper.
He was out after me in a flash,
well, the next thing, there was this lorry.
There must be something you can do.
Well, I suppose I could try patching him up.
Enough to get him home anyway.
You must have some first-class vets down in Surrey,
better equipped to deal with the job than I am here, anyway.
What would they be likely to recommend?
Amputation?
Almost certainly, yes.
Oh, God.
There must be some alternative.
I mean, a dog without a leg, it's...
Is there, James? Surely there must be.
Just hold onto the table for a moment, would you, please?
Good. Thanks.
Well, first, I must tell you that the sensible thing to do
would be to amputate the leg here and now.
-Right? -Right.
Now there is something else we could try.
There's no guarantee that it will do any good,
and it might make things a lot worse.
Right?
Right.
It's a thing that came to light, actually,
as a result of the Spanish Civil War of all things.
Even towards the end, people were suffering from the most appalling injuries
and they didn't have the proper medicaments out there to deal with them,
so what they used do was simply encase the wounds in plaster,
and then leave them.
They called it, "Stewing in your own juice."
It's a horrible phrase
but some of the results were remarkably good.
Well, the thing is, if it works with a human being why not with a dog?
So, if you want me to, I'll try that.
-Marjorie? -(SNIFFLES)
We want you to.
Right.
(MRS HOLROYD HUMMING)
(HUMMING CONTINUES)
(PHONE RINGING)
Mr Brannen's surgery.
Who's that speaking, please?
Oh.
Oh, it's you, is it?
Telephone for you, Mr Herriot.
Mrs Holroyd, could you ask them if they'd mind leaving a message?
I'm a little bit tied up at the moment.
Hello.
I'm sorry, but Mr Herriot's just a little bit tied up at the moment, Mr Pimarov.
Right. That's it. The best I can do, I'm afraid.
PETER: Right. Thanks.
So, this time next week, wherever you happen to be,
take him to a local vet and get him to have a look at it.
-Oh, I think we'd both rather you saw to it, actually. -Oh, really?
-Oh, yes. Wouldn't we, Peter? -Definitely.
Well, don't you have to get back?
We have another week yet.
Hensfield's hardly a spa.
That doesn't matter. It's Kim that matters.
All right. I'll see you here, same time next week.
-All right. -There we are.
-I'll turn him around for you. -All right.
-Got him? -Yes, thank you.
Good.
Oh, how much do we owe you?
Well, let's talk about that next week, shall we?
-When we know how things have turned out. -Right, and it's mister...
-Herriot, James Herriot. -PETER: Right.
-Thank you, Mr Herriot. Bye-bye. -It's a pleasure.
MARJORIE: Goodbye.
-JAMES: Bye-bye. -(BELL RINGING)
Goodbye.
Well...
Clever, old Mr James Herriot.
-Well, you may not think so this time next week. -Oh.
-(CLEARS THROAT). -It was that there Mr Pimarov.
Wanted to know why you hadn't been.
And did you get an address, Mrs Holroyd?
-Well, I asked him, yeah. -What did he say?
Well, he asked me what in the Hanover I were talking about.
-Only he didn't say "Hanover." -He must have been mad.
Well, I tell you this. He weren't pleased.
Well, I'd better wash.
Excuse me.
Been married long, have you?
Not all that long, really, no.
Herriot got a very passionate nature.
At first light.
-(LAUGHING) -(DOOR CLOSES)
-Breakfast, Siegfried. -Right, old man.
Right-tee-ho.
(HUMMING)
-(SIGHS) -(LAUGHING)
Bangers and mash.
Hmm, thought it would make a nice change.
You know, from bacon and eggs and tomatoes and kidneys and whatnot.
Nothing like a change.
Quite.
(BELL RINGS)
So, we meet at last.
I beg your pardon.
-Mr Herriot, I presume? -Yes, that's right.
Been busy, I expect, with more important folk than the likes of me.
-I'm sorry? -As thou should be, lad. As thou should be.
Twice now, I spent good brass ringing thee, not once but twice.
But have I seen hide nor hair of thee. Have I eckers like.
We might not be royalty up our road,
but our brass is as good as anybody else's.
Now where do they get it from, eh? Answer me that.
-The who? -Those who has and thinks they're somebody,
and cocks their little finger in the air when they sipping their tea.
I'll tell you where they get it from. From the likes of us.
I'm awfully sorry. I'm not quite following this, mister um...
Pymm. Pymm! How many times does thou have to be told?
-Mr Pymm. I see. -I'll tell you something else while I'm at it.
She's about as useful as a chocolate teapot
that one that answered the phone for thee.
"What's your address then? What's your address?"
And I've given her the damn blasted address half a dozen times already.
You are the mysterious Mr Pimarov.
Aye, and what the heck's mysterious about me?
I've lived in Roff all my life, I have.
-Next door to the Post Office. -Roff?
Aye, Roff. It's a village and it's not five miles from here!
Oh, I see.
Mr Pymm of Roff.
(LAUGHING)
Now look here, young man, there's nowt funny about a bulldog with toothache.
-He nearly had my hand off twice already. -No. No, of course not.
So, it's about five miles away from here?
-Right. -Right.
Well, I'll be out first thing this afternoon, Mr Pim...
Well, see thou does.
-(BELL RINGS) -What on earth's going on?
That was Mr Pimarov.
What's all the shouting about?
Oh, well, they do that. Russians.
Well, they have to, you see.
Out on the steppes, to make themselves heard over the blizzards.
(DOG BARKING)
Shut up!
-Everything under control? -Oh, yes.
You do need the mortar and pestle, do you, Tristan?
Yes. Don't worry, Siegfried. I'll return it right after lunch.
What actually do you need it for?
My secret weapon.
Perhaps I should market it, you know.
"Tristan Farnon's exciting new way of mashing potatoes."
(LAUGHING)
Just... Heaven knows what's been mashed up in that in the past.
I know. That's what gave me the idea.
It's remarkable you know, how adaptable one becomes
under the pressures of necessity.
I really think I could have taken up cooking professionally.
I suppose it's a sort of a touch thing, really...intuitive.
I've always felt entirely at home in the kitchen.
Sausages, then...
-Again. -Yes.
Mr Bainbridge reckons they're on particularly fine form today.
Better even than the ones we had yesterday,
or on Tuesday.
Ah.
The Germans are very fond of sausages, you know.
Yes, it's perfectly true. They have a great variety.
So, it means they can't be all bad, eh?
Do you know they reckon the average German family
practically lives off sausages?
(WHISTLING)
(HUMMING)
-Ah. -Thank you.
JAMES: Thank you.
-(BELL RINGS) -Oh!
Oh. I'll go. You enjoy your dinner.
I don't suppose you could persuade Mrs Holroyd
to let you take over the cooking, could you?
She'd kill me, James. Two women in that one kitchen.
It's all the rage, you know, ash and chips.
-All the best restaurants. -Oh, James, I'm sorry.
It's for you, Mr Herriot.
Oh, right. Thanks.
-All right for you? -Delicious.
(HUMMING)
Oh.
-You'll be Herriot, then. -Yes, that's right.
-Old Stewie did warn us about you. -Oh, yes?
Coker is the name, gambling is the game, from the track.
Well, which track would that be, Mr Coker?
-The dog track, Hensfield. -Ah!
We've got our meeting as usual tomorrow afternoon,
so we look forward to seeing you there.
Well, that is very kind of you, Mr Coker,
but actually, I'm not much of a gambling man myself.
-You're not to gamble, Herriot, to officiate. -Officiate?
Old Stewie's our official vet.
He never misses a meeting,
not as that should surprise anyone, mind.
There must be worse ways for earning five bob
than propping our bar up all afternoon and doing bugger all.
Still, there does have to be a vet in attendance, I'm afraid.
Well, if it's one of Mr Brannen's regular engagements,
-then of course I'll be there, Mr Coker. -Right.
-Oh, and 2:00 sharp, mind. -Mmm-hmm.
(DOOR OPENS)
Come on, old boy.
Everything under control?
Oh, yes. I've just seen the last of them off.
What a crowd.
I must say having James away does pile on the pressure rather.
Well, yes.
Been shopping then, have you?
Yes, I called at the butcher's.
Filet steaks, gosh.
Two of the very choicest cuts.
I thought we might have them tonight
with a few tomatoes, mushrooms, sliced onions, anything you like.
Yes, of course. Why not?
I thought I might open a decent bottle of claret to go with them.
Right.
Well, look here. Why don't I leave them with you
to do something magnificent with,
while I snatch a quick bath, huh?
-(SIEGFRIED GRUNTS) -(DOOR OPENS)
(PHONE RINGING)
Yes, Mr Holland. You see, we're a bit understaffed at the moment.
Well, we'll try and pop out tomorrow. Would that be all right?
Jolly good, then. Bye-bye, now.
Mr Holland.
Mmm.
Oh, no. You couldn't have done.
Oh, you thieving swines! How could you?
Dried bread and water! That's all you're gonna get for the next month!
And no walks, and injections of the foulest kind!
-How's it going? -Oh, fine, fine.
What about a glass of sherry before dinner?
Well, that would be nice, yes.
Nothing like a good smoky sherry
redolent of darkling cellars and ancient casks
-before a really decent piece of meat. -Right.
-Anything wrong? -Wrong?
You look a bit waxy around the gills.
Well, one gets like that, Siegfried,
slaving over a hot stove all day, you know?
For goodness sake, don't overdo it, old fellow.
Relax.
You are supposed to be man's best friends,
not a couple of big, hairy snakes in the grass!
-SIEGFRIED: Sorry? -I was just ticking off the dogs.
Well, they do understand every word you say.
(GASPS) You...
Oh, yes.
How is it Shakespeare put it?
"A good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used."
What possible better use could it be put to than the accompaniment...
...sorry to, two really juicy,
first-rate pieces of Aberdeen beef, huh?
-Um, Siegfried... -Now, then, Tristan,
now for our toast.
God bless the chef.
Cheers.
Now, then, what have we here?
What gastronomic delight awaits us?
Boeuf l'anglaise, perhaps?
Brown without, blushing and pink within,
with a knob of golden butter slowly sinking into its succulent surface,
or is it something altogether more adventurous in the French style, perhaps?
No, no. Don't tell me, Tristan.
Let it be a surprise.
-Bangers and mash? -It's your favourite.
But I bought filet steak.
Oh, yes. It's a bit unfortunate about that really.
-Unfortunate? -You'll never believe what happened.
-You burnt them? -Good Lord, no.
-Anything but. -Where are they, then?
Well, actually, Siegfried, they've been sort of eaten.
Eaten? Eaten?
Right. There they were, you see, all ready to pop into the pan...
Gosh, the trouble I'd gone to with that sauce
and the telephone rang, and I had to answer it, you see,
you being in the bath as it were.
It was Mr Holland, who got a bit of trouble with his pig, Gertrude.
I said we'd pop out to...
Anyway, when I'd got back, they'd been eaten.
-Eaten? -Right.
-By whom? -The dogs.
You gave my filet steaks to the dogs?
Well, I didn't actually give them to them, Siegfried.
They just sort of took them.
Anyway, fortunately, we had bangers and mash to fall back on
and you're always saying good, plain old English fare.
Bangers and mash.
-Well, just last week, Siegfried, you said... -That was last week.
Since then, we've had nothing but bangers and mash.
I've even started to dream about bangers and mash.
Battalions of bangers advancing inexorably upon me with you at the head,
and you told me you could cook.
I can, bangers and mash.
Have you any idea how much filet steak costs?
One and tuppence a pound, 14 pence,
and you left them in a room full of dogs.
You know what you are? You're a menace to society.
Only a few weeks ago, you tried to poison me
by serving the dogs' dinner up to me.
Now you've served my dinner up to the dogs.
-Your food's getting cold. -(SHOUTS)
I can never look another sausage in the eye again.
And I'll tell you this. From now on, until Helen comes back
or Mrs Hall comes back or somebody comes back,
I am eating out.
You're mad. You're absolutely raving mad.
(DOOR SLAMS)
Mad. Raving mad.
Come along! Come along!
Come on, come on.
(DOGS WHIMPERING)
(SIGHS)
(DOGS BARKING)
(SIGHS)
(INDISTINCT TALKING)
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
Excuse me. Could you tell me where the office is?
-It's up those stairs. -Thank you.
-(KNOCK ON DOOR) -Enter!
-Oh, there you are, Herriot. -(DOOR CLOSES)
-Mr Coker. -Just in time.
Off you go, then, down to the enclosure for the first race.
-Right. -Like I said it's not but a pleasant afternoon
out for you, is this...
Oh, and cash in your hand, you know, when you're finished.
You just think on it to remind when you leave.
ANNOUNCER: In the third race, all dogs run as per programme.
Thanks. Next, please.
Has this dog been fed or watered during the past couple of hours?
Good Lord, no, veterinary. Hasn't had a thing while breakfast.
Except next-door's cat, of course.
ANNOUNCER: The hare is about to start.
(DOGS BARKING)
(CHEERING)
Which dog did I have the money on then, veterinary?
-(KNOCK ON DOOR) -Enter.
-Mr Herriot. -It's about number three in that last race, Mr Coker.
-Oh, yes? -Well, it was the favourite, came in last,
miles behind the rest.
One of the charms of dog racing, is that, you know, Herriot,
the glorious uncertainty of it all.
Well, I have reason to believe that dog had been stopped
-and fed just before the race. -Good heavens. Really?
Yes, I'm certain it had now.
It's not like any of my owners to stoop to anything underhanded-like.
You examined this here animal, before the race, right?
-Oh, yes. -And you suspected it then?
-Right. -Right.
Didn't you bring these suspicions to the attention of owner?
Yes I did, and he assured me
it hadn't had a thing since breakfast.
Well, Herriot, what a pity you didn't see fit to bring them to me.
I mean, it is what we pay you for, is that, you know.
I mean to keep your eye out for that sort of thing.
Well, couldn't you simply disqualify the dog?
(CHUCKLES) What? We'd have a riot on our hands.
I can see you're not very au fait with the ins and outs of dog racing, Herriot.
(BOTH LAUGHING)
That's one, I'm afraid we'll have to turn a blind eye to, eh.
Wouldn't want you getting lynched by all them angry punters
that's put their half dollars on number three now, would we?
Sorry.
-Here's your winnings then, Mr Coker. -Thank you, Horace.
-Aw, heck, you know, I see thou knows how to pick them. -(LAUGHING)
-(CLEARS THROAT)
Here. Go and get yourself a whisky.
Oh, ta very much, Mr Coker.
(BELL RINGS)
Oh, anything wrong?
Well, yes, yes, we think so.
Oh, dear. James is out.
-Oh, I see. -Will he be long, do you think?
It'll be teatime.
(SIGHS)
(MARCH PLAYING OVER TANNOY)
Right, this one's out.
You what?
Well, he's definitely been fed during the past two hours.
Hell as like. He's had nowt all day.
Would you like me to vomit him?
I've got some washing soda in the car.
Nay. Thou's not messing about with my dog.
Sir.
-He never. -I'm afraid so, Mr Coker.
He can't do that.
Well, he's already done it, Mr Coker.
(MARCHING TUNE CONTINUES)
COKER: Will Mr Herriot kindly report to the manager's office immediately?
Don't put up with it, Mr Coker.
I say don't you put up with it.
-I will not. -(KNOCK ON DOOR)
Enter.
-Yes, Mr Coker. -(DOOR CLOSES)
You've taken a dog out of the race, I hear.
-That's right. -Made history, you might say.
That's not happened before, is that, not at Hensfield.
Well, I had no choice, Mr Coker.
That dog had quite obviously just been fed.
You're quite sure there's no possibility you might have been mistaken?
I'm quite sure.
Only you were mistaken on an earlier occasion if I remember rightly?
Ah, not mistaken, Mr Coker, just misled.
Only I do just happen to know the lad concerned.
-We're what you might call slightly related by marriage. -Ah.
I can't possibly believe he could be involved in anything untoward.
In fact, to be truthful, he's never away from chapel, very devout,
not to mention, being a leading lad in our local scouts movement.
Well, I'm not suggesting that he necessarily fed the dog.
Oh, I see, so you could be prevailed on,
perhaps, to withdraw your objections as it were.
Well, I don't really see how I can do that, Mr Coker.
After all, as you said yourself, that's why you're paying me.
To keep my eyes open for this sort of thing.
As you wish. Yeah.
Your decision, Mr Herriot.
Right.
What's the betting now on King Midas, Horace?
You can't get a bet on, Mr Coker, not since Triple Crown were withdrawn.
Oh...
He shouldn't be all that long now.
Would you like some tea while you're waiting?
-That would be lovely. Thanks. -Thanks.
Right.
-Sorry. -What?
You're not suggesting this dog's been fed, are you?
No, anything but.
Then, what are you suggesting?
You really want me to go into it, in front of all these people?
COKER: Will Mr Herriot kindly report to the manager's office immediately?
-Doped? -Doped.
Doped, here at Hensfield?
-Doped! -That dog was definitely doped.
The pupils were dilated.
Oh, it's always had very funny eyes has that dog.
Aye. She gets them from her mother.
She were the only dog I ever saw that could look down a bottle.
There were also twitches of nystagmus.
You do realise you're ruining this meeting, don't you, single-bloody-handed?
Look, Mr Coker, there are people out there betting good money on those dogs.
Money quite frankly they'd be better off spending on something else.
Oh, I see. So that's it, is it?
Now it comes out, Horace. You don't approve of dog racing, then.
Mr Coker, my feelings on the matter are neither here or there.
I do just happen to think however,
that if people want to bet money on dogs,
the least they can expect is a square deal.
They won't get a squarer deal than I give them.
There's not a squarer fellow in Yorkshire than Mr Coker.
-I run a straight track, I do. -Ah! None straighter.
Good. Well, I'm very glad to hear that.
So, let's keep it that way, shall we?
He's been sent, Horace,
as a punishment for something I've done.
There, Mr Coker. Have one of your pills.
-Thanks for the tea. -Oh, that's all right.
-I'll rinse them. -No, no, no, I'll do it.
Do you like living here?
Oh, we don't.
We're just standing in for Mr Brannen.
-We live in the Dales. -Oh, I see.
-You're up here on holiday, then? -Yes.
Well, the last one we'll get in a while, I suppose.
-Oh? -Peter's just been called up,
and Kim was a sort of a farewell present from him.
Oh, I see.
-How long have you been married? -A few weeks.
Ah... That's hard.
Yes.
We almost decided not to.
I mean everything's so uncertain now.
Then we thought, well, why not?
-I know. -Will your husband have to go?
Well, he doesn't have to, being a vet.
Though, knowing James, I expect it's just a matter of time
before he walks through that door and tells me he's just joined up.
Ridiculous, isn't it,
that this sort of thing has to keep on happening?
Always has.
Madness.
-(KNOCK ON DOOR) -Enter.
What was it this time? No, don't tell me. Let me guess.
Falling sickness, right? Or some obscure tropical disease.
-You thought it might infect the other dogs with. -Tar.
-Tar. Tar! -Tar...
On the pads slows a dog down.
Now surely you've heard of that one, Mr Coker.
How would I have heard of that?
Me, who's only devoted his entire life to building this place up.
Unlike you, who is attending his first meeting
and threatening to close me down overnight.
-I'm just doing my job, Mr Coker. -Of course you are.
Rapidly putting me out of one.
Tell me, Herriot,
will you still be in these parts next Saturday,
-standing in for Mr Brannen? -Oh, yes.
Mr Brannen isn't due back till Sunday.
Oh! Only we're closed next Saturday.
Oh, yes?
Yes, it's the one Saturday in the year we close you know.
-Really? -Funny that, isn't it?
Isn't it?
(DOOR SLAMS)
-Hello. -Mr Herriot.
-Problems? -It's the leg.
These last few days, it's started to smell really badly.
We thought perhaps it was gangrene.
Right, let's have a look at him.
Thank you, darling. Come on.
-(DOOR CLOSES) -JAMES: There we go.
Thank you, darling.
Shh, whoa, boy.
Is... Is it gangrenous?
Well, as a matter of fact, it isn't, no.
Oh, it's coming along very nicely.
Much better than I would have hoped.
But that stench.
Oh, it's puss and discharge decomposing into the bandages.
Does that mean he's going to be all right?
Yes. Yes, I think it does.
(LAUGHS)
-Oh, that's marvellous. -Isn't it just?
Well, I better make some more tea.
MARJORIE: Oh!
Of course, he'll always have a bit of a limp,
-but I don't suppose you'll mind that. -Hardly.
So, when you get home, take him to your own vet
-and get him to have a look at it. -All right.
Another cup, anybody?
Oh, I really think we should be getting on our way, thanks.
-Well, thanks again for everything. -Not at all.
-Thanks so much. -Good luck.
-And you, too. -PETER: Come on, old fella.
-Come on. -(WOMEN GIGGLE)
Come on, there we are.
-Bye-bye. -Bye.
-Goodbye. -HELEN: Oh, your hat.
-Oh, it's always falling off. -Don't lose that.
-Bye-bye. -Bye.
Oh.
(JAMES LAUGHS)
What is it?
It's a saucy postcard. It's from Stewie.
"All the children have gone down with chickenpox."
Oh, no.
"Apart from that, having a marvellous time."
(LAUGHING)
Oh, I say.
(SIGHS)
(GLASS CLINKING)
Is there something wrong, Mr Farnon?
-Wrong, Mrs Hall? -Well...
You're just sitting there smiling at me.
Oh, my dear Mrs Hall, I'm so sorry,
but if you knew how good it was to have you back...
Oh, Mr Farnon, it's only been a fortnight.
-Seemed much more like a month. -Aye.
Between you and me, it seems the same to me.
She's a very nice woman, my cousin.
-The trouble is I can't stand her. -(LAUGHING)
-(LAUGHING IN DISTANCE) -Hello. That sounds like them now.
SIEGFRIED: Hey, you two! Welcome back!
-Hello, Siegfried. -Hi.
How was Hensfield?
Oh, full of dark satanic mills.
You'll appreciate Darrowby all the more.
-(LAUGHING) -Come and eat.
Thank you.
My word, it's good to have you back.
-JAMES: Jolly nice to be back. -(HELEN EXCLAIMS)
If you knew what I've been through since you two went away...
Ungrateful devil.
-Are you all right? -JAMES: Hello, Mrs Hall.
-Hello. -HELEN: Nice holiday?
Well, well. It's good to be back home for a rest.
HELEN: Oh, give me that. That looks so heavy.
You heard about Stewie Brannen's brood all coming out in spots?
-JAMES: Oh, yes! -Story of Stewie's life.
Ah!
Something wrong, Mr Farnon?
-Bangers and mash? -Aye.
That's what you wanted, weren't it?
"I wanted," Mrs Hall?
That's what I were told.
Good Lord, I've forgotten to wash my hands.
(CLEARS THROAT)
-(DOOR SLAMS) -I'll kill him!
This time, I'll definitely kill him.
Jolly nice to be home.
(LAUGHING)