(INAUDIBLE)
Yep, he's fine.
(SINGING)
Oh!
Dogs!
(DOG BARKING)
It was very good of you to call so promptly.
I do so hate it when Tricki's laid low with Flop Bot.
So does he, poor little man.
Well, all better now.
I can't help noticing, he's putting on weight again.
Well, perhaps just a very little.
-We do try to bear your strictures in mind. -Ah!
-Say, "Goodbye" to Uncle Herriot. -JAMES: Goodbye, Tricki.
He's always so grateful.
Well, he is a very, um...
Angela!
There you are!
Morning, Aunt.
Have you had breakfast?
No, not yet.
But you must eat, darling. I'll get...
Oh, this is Mr Herriot.
My niece, Angela Mortimer.
-How do you do, Mr Herriot? -JAMES: Good morning, Ms Mortimer.
And what are you going to do today, darling?
Have you got any plans?
Mmm, I've got my Dylan Thomas, so I think I'll finish that.
MRS PUMPHREY: But that's what you did yesterday.
Oh really! It's too absurd.
Here in the heart of the Yorkshire Dales...
It's all right, Aunt. You mustn't worry about me.
-It was nice to meet you, Mr Herriot. -Yes.
Bye, Miss Mortimer.
Hodgekin will get you whatever you want.
It's all right, Aunt. It doesn't matter.
Oh, dear!
-Young people. -Yes.
Come along, my darling.
Now, then, Tricki, off you go and play.
-Oh, it's so sad. -Mmm.
I said to Angela, "Take a leaf out of Tricki's book."
He's got such a zest for life.
-Is she ill? -No, not really.
Well,
she was engaged to be married
and the young man broke it off.
I think it's her pride that's hurt as much as anything.
Yes, yes, probably.
Isn't that Lady Hulton's Lucia?
-Yes, I'm just taking her back to her now. -Oh.
We've had her in the surgery for a couple of days.
Oh, Tricki will be disappointed to have missed her.
He's, uh...
-He's a great one for the ladies. -Yes.
Right, well, bye, Mrs Pumphrey.
Oh, bye, bye. Thank you again so much.
It's a pleasure.
Hodgekin...
Hodgekin!
(CAR ENGINE STARTING)
Hodgekin!
Where are you?
Mr Herriot! Mr Herriot!
-Hello, Hughie. -Hello, Mr Herriot.
Something I can do?
No. No. Charlie says,
"Get over there, Hughie, and stop Mr 'Erriot". So, uh...
So you have.
Aye, that's right.
CHARLIE: Well, then, Mr Herriot!
Hello, Charlie.
What brings you up this way then?
I'm just bringing this old girl back to Lady Hulton.
All right.
Did you give her some treatment then?
JAMES: Well, she's had an operation.
Oh, yes, and did she?
-Nothing fancy. But she needed it. -Uh...
CHARLIE: Why was that?
JAMES: She was uncontrollably promisc...
It was impossible to keep her away from male dogs.
And one solution is to remove the ovaries.
Well, in extreme cases that is.
Oh, extreme.
It's an uncommon ailment, it is, but you dealt wi' it.
Well, it's, uh, it's fairly easy.
Aye.
Does it have a name, this, uh, this condition she had?
Well, the Latin word for it is Nymphomania.
Really?
-Yeah, that'd be some sort of madness. Wouldn't it? -That's right.
HUGHIE: What's up then, Charlie?
Oh, Mr Herriot's fetchin' bitch back to Lady Hulton.
She were a nymphomaniac.
Oh!
-But he's fixed it. -He's got a tremendous gift, Mr Herriot.
Aye, me dad told me.
Hey, you recognise this little lad?
He's Bert's son, Bert.
-You're Bert's lad? -Ah.
-Bert. -Ah.
-Hello, Bert. -Hello.
Well, we won't keep you here gossipin'. Let you get on your way.
Thanks, Charlie.
Good to see you.
-Ah! (LAUGHING) -Hey, you wouldn't laugh at a dumb animal, would you?
I am not laughing, Mr Collins.
This accumulation of tartar has given us quite a problem.
It's no laughing matter, bad breath.
No, indeed it's not.
An' it's no laughing matter hanging around out there
for the better part of an hour.
(YAWNING) I normally have 40 winks about now.
I have to get up at 4:00 in the morning
to get my round started.
-Mr Collins... -And that's not funny either.
Mr Collins, I'm perfectly sure we're all extremely grateful for our morning milk.
And I'm sorry you had to wait.
But take heart. My brother is back in the practise from today
so we should be very efficient for the next few weeks
if you have occasion to call on us again.
Well, I hope I don't. That's all I can say.
(TYRES SQUEALING)
You're gonna have to put your foot down if you're gonna make Silverstone,
before the light goes.
Racing a bit, was I, James?
-A bit. -It's the joy of being back.
-How was Stewie? -Oh, mad as ever.
So, is his practise.
Into every life.
-When did you get back? -10:30 this morning.
I had one cup of coffee and then Siegfried presented me
with a list of calls as long as your arm.
We have been pretty pushed.
But, you're not. Not this morning.
I've got Grimsdale and the rest of them.
You've got Lady Hulton and Tricki-Woo.
Not to mention the dark, sad-eyed beauty into the bargain.
-Mrs Pumphrey? -(STARTING ENGINE)
No, no, her niece.
I'll catch up with you later, Tris.
(GRUNTING)
Yeah. Not see many like him these days, vit'nery, not these days.
No...
Not these days.
Well now, Mr Wilson,
it's just as you suggested, fistulous withers.
(SMACKS LIPS) And I rather wish I'd seen it earlier,
but there we are.
We'll clean it up. (SIGHING)
And, uh,
we'll try some gentian violet,
see how that serves.
You know best, vit'nery.
Hasn't been too right for a day or two now,
but it'll be all right for you to tend him, I'm sure.
-(HORSE GRUNTS) -Now, don't you fret, old Bob.
Well, I don't know how it's been with you, Mr Wilson.
But we've been frantically busy lately.
Aye, I know the way of it.
You're talking to a carter now, Mr Farnon.
-(HORSE NEIGHING) -SIEGFRIED: Aagh!
Uh! Uh!
Now don't you be so silly.
Settle down, ya, ya daft thing.
(LAUGHING) Wasn't that the funniest thing?
-It's the funniest thing. -What?
He always does that when he sees this 'ere hankie.
He's got a right thing about it.
Why then did you take it out?
(LAUGHING) I forgot. But he doesn't though!
(LAUGHING) It's the funniest thing!
(CHILD LAUGHING)
It's the funniest thing!
(CONTINUES LAUGHING)
(SIEGFRIED GRUNTING IN PAIN)
(SIEGFRIED GASPING)
I feel such a fool.
JAMES: Yes, it's rotten luck, Siegfried.
You know I hardly got a wink of sleep last night.
One little bone that's all.
Just one tiny bone.
Would you like me to sign it for you?
-Now don't be juvenile, James. -Sorry.
Who's the, uh... Who's the letter from?
It's from Stewie Brannon, thanking us for Tristan's services.
I'm afraid Tristan and you are gonna have to deal with the calls
for the next day or two.
Oh, that's all right.
It's lucky he's back. Still in bed, is he?
Amazingly, he's not.
Apparently Mrs Pumphrey rang during breakfast
and he shot straight out. Isn't that extraordinary!
Extraordinary.
So there is one ray of sunshine
-in all this business. -Oh, what's it?
Yeah, you see, I didn't want
Caroline to forego the holiday with the children,
so as in bygone days I'm gonna be domiciled here for a while.
Oh.
Yes. Good plan.
Well, natural existence.
Fed and watered by Mrs Alton.
-Living over the shop. What could be more perfect! -Yeah. Yeah.
What does Mrs Alton think about the arrangement?
-Oh, Mrs Alton's perfectly happy about the whole thing. -Uh.
Why shouldn't she be?
-(PHONE RINGING) -Oh. Ah, I'll get it.
Well, then,
all's well that ends well.
Yes.
Um, is there another cup in there, Mrs Pumphrey?
Why, yes.
I think, you see, that we should, um,
talk about Tricki-Woo's diet.
His diet. Of course.
And going by that bone that I removed from his throat,
uh, it's obvious he still loves his chicken.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, he does, yes.
But I notice, too, that there's a bowl of cream in here.
Cream?
Oh, yes.
I'm not sure that Uncle Herriot would approve.
But you wouldn't tell him?
I mean its only an occasional treat.
Uh, and we couldn't swallow anything solid this morning.
Oh, I do understand that this morning is not a normal morning for him.
But he is looking distinctly overweight, Mrs Pumphrey.
Perhaps I could, um, write out a diet sheet for him?
I do so hate to deny him his little pleasures.
Oh, I think I could devise something
that wouldn't be too much of a shock for him.
He has been rather short of breath recently.
I'm only thinking of his best interests.
Oh, I know. And it's very kind of you
-to take so much trouble. -Hello, Aunt.
Hodgekin said you wanted me...
Yes, Angela. Come in. Come in.
Better late than never.
This is Mr Farnon. Mr Farnon, the younger.
Another of our marvellous vets.
My niece, Angela Mortimer.
How do you do, Miss Mortimer?
How do you do, Mr Farnon?
Is that cup for me?
Why yes, if you can bring yourself
to swallow anything.
Let me, Mrs Pumphrey.
It's very kind of you.
Uh, cream, Miss Mortimer?
No, thank you, Mr Farnon.
Oh, Tristan, please. Tristan.
MRS PUMPHREY: Mr Farnon...
Tricki-Woo's diet.
Sorry, um...
I think what I'd better do...
Uh, I'd better pop back another time.
I really do have an awful lot of business today.
I'll write out a detailed seven-day regime, Mrs Pumphrey.
Uh, I could pop it by, oh...
Uh, whenever you like.
Well, very soon, anyway.
Um...
Good.
Good. Um...
Have you seen much of the countryside yet,
-Miss Mortimer? -No.
Angela hasn't been feeling much like it.
-But I think I should. -Oh, you should. You should.
We'll see what we can do.
CHARLIE: Come on, get her in.
(WHEEZES)
CHARLIE: Right-o, Mr Herriot.
Thanks a lot, Charlie.
Come on. Come on. That's it.
No, I can't...
I can't push it upwards.
He don't seem to be bloated up, not yet.
Uh, well, you're right about one thing, Charlie.
It's a potato.
-HUGHIE: You were right then, Charlie. -I was.
It's a tater, Hughie.
BERT: Is that bad?
CHARLIE: Oh, you leave it to Mr Herriot, lads.
He'll sort it.
I can't... I can't quite reach it.
All right, Charlie,
just, uh, hold her head really firmly, would you? Please?
Bert, take a hold here.
Thank you, Bert.
(MOOING)
(COW BREATHING HEAVILY)
Yes, it's shifted it.
Smashed it, you see.
My God!
Did you see that, Hughie?
-You mean she's better now? -Cured.
At a stroke.
Bloomin' miracles.
(COW BELCHES)
Aye, she can belch again now.
JAMES: Charlie, it's nothing.
It's not a new technique.
Just like that!
Clack! And the job's done!
(ALL LAUGHING)
Takes some beating, that.
Ah, the speed of it, eh?
(GRUNTING) Just like that.
Hey, feel these muscles, Bert.
Oh, my!
There's some iron in there, all right.
Can I have a feel, Mr Herriot?
Look, Hughie, I know that I'm not particularly... (SHOUTS) Ah!
Oh, there's some power there all right.
Speed, skill, power. That just about says it all, aye?
Yes. Right! Well, I'll just have another look at her, then I'll be off.
Anything you say, Mr Herriot.
Ah, tranquillity.
The calm of the evening,
the subsidence of care and worry.
It's a magical time of day, Mrs Alton.
And the effect is enhanced by a glass of whisky.
What on earth is that?
Courtesy of the Cottage Hospital.
Aren't you forgetting there are two of us dining here tonight.
No, Mr Tristan's playing darts tonight.
Says he'll eat elsewhere.
Oh. All right.
(EXHALES) At least it'll stay quiet and peaceful here.
7:30. I'm nearly ready in the kitchen.
Ah, good. Splendid.
MAN ON WIRELESS: With the title "Country Garden".
(MUSIC PLAYING)
(INCREASES VOLUME)
(MUSIC CONTINUES)
(GRUNTS)
(MUSIC CONTINUES FAINTLY)
(RECORD BLARING)
(MUSIC CLASHING)
(INCREASES VOLUME)
Your supper.
(LOUDLY) What?
(SHOUTING) Your supper!
Well, that's...
Pardon?
Wh...
Oh!
(TURNS OFF MUSIC)
What is this?
That, Mr Farnon, is a nourishing soup.
Looks rather thin.
It's a light chicken broth.
I'm not going to give you anything that might inflame your foot.
Mrs Alton, I've broken one tiny bone in my foot.
It's not going to be inflamed by a square meal!
My way with invalids, Mr Farnon,
is to give them nothing that might excite their blood.
My blood is already excited by the level of noise in this house!
And by acute hunger.
Now would you mind turning that thing down a bit?
Is, is there a main course?
No, there is not.
But there's a pudding, surely. Isn't there a pudding?
Oh, aye.
Prunes.
(DOOR SLAMMING)
(CHUCKLING)
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
Look, um, how about a spot of sightseeing sometime?
Yes. Uh, I should, I know.
Or even a picnic.
Have you got time?
I know you're very busy.
Uh, I'll make time.
All right.
I'll telephone.
All right.
Uh, well, goodbye.
Goodbye.
Oh, Mr Farnon.
Yes, Mrs Pumphrey?
Thank you so much for Tricki-Woo's diet sheet.
Um, I was wondering if you would be free to come for drinks this evening?
Well, yes. That would be lovely.
It's for a very special reason.
-I'm inviting Uncle Herriot too. -Oh.
Off you go.
(CHUCKLING) Oh, yes.
Well, goodbye.
Hey, there's Mr Herriot. Go stop him, Hughie.
-Thank you, Mr Herriot. -Hughie.
Charlie wants a word, Mr Herriot.
We saw you coming, an' he says...
Yes. Right you are.
-Bert. -Mr Herriot.
-Now then, Mr Herriot. -Now then, Charlie.
-What's on your mind? -Something's come up.
I'd like you to see me mother.
-Pardon? -It's her budgie.
-What's the matter with it? -He's dead.
Ah. Well, I...
In mysterious circumstances.
I'd like you to come and sort it out.
Well, I'd like to help, of course. I don't quite see...
Oh, I wouldn't like to let her down, Mr Herriot.
We promised her we'd get you round for a chat.
Yes, all right. Well, I'll try and pop in.
Can't promise when.
Oh, that's good enough for me.
Here, write down address and telephone for Mr Herriot.
Don't fret, Mr Herriot.
We shan't keep you long.
Now nice and neat.
It's no laughing matter, vit'nery.
No, no, uh,
a very uncomfortable condition, nephritis.
Passing water day and night, she is.
-It's no laughing matter. -No, absolutely not.
It's quite common now, you know,
inflammation of the kidneys in cats her age.
Now, I'm going to give her some pills,
uh, as well.
And that should sort her out.
Hope so, vit'nery.
I'm having to clean up after her. It's not funny!
And I'm having to cut back on my time in the garden.
I don't like to do that just now.
Goodness. So, uh, not only are you a keen animal lover,
you're a gardener as well.
Any reason why I shouldn't be?
Absolutely none at all, Mr Collins.
I'm a single man. I can do what I like.
Yes, of course you can. Now, where on Earth...
-Oh, excuse me. -Ah, James.
James, James, you must comb your hair.
You're invited to Tricki-Woo's to drinks.
Oh, am I? Well, I can't just at the moment, Siegfried.
(SIEGFRIED SNAPPING FINGERS)
(MOUTHING)
Sorry?
(MOUTHING)
(CHUCKLING) What?
Oh, never mind, James.
Ah, here it is.
Under my eye all the time.
Now then, Mr Collins,
I want you to
give her one in the morning,
and one in the evening,
and bring her back to see me
in three days. Will you do that?
So you won't consider visiting a sick animal at home then, vit'nery?
Mr Collins, in the midst of your preoccupations I can understand
that it escaped your notice that I am not wholly mobile.
But I can promise you I'm not wearing this cast for the sake of fashion.
-I only asked. -I only refused.
Goodbye just now, Mr Collins.
A bit difficult, isn't he?
"Impossible", is the word, James.
Siegfried what was that you were trying to tell me about a hamster?
Hamper, James.
Now look here, I'm back on wartime rations here.
A good bulging hamper from Tricki-Woo
to his dear Uncle Herriot would make life a good deal sweeter.
Even tolerable in fact.
You'd like me to go, I take it.
I would like you to get on the telephone to Mrs Pumphrey.
I would like you to go for drinks, go for anything.
Just obey her every whim until that hamper is forthcoming.
(SMACKS LIPS) Desperate man, are we?
We are a desperate man, James.
(SMACKS LIPS) All right.
Have to telephone Helen first, of course.
Well, you tell her it's an emergency now.
I think Tricki's sulking because of his new diet.
New diet?
Mr Farnon took him to task for being overweight.
Oh, yes, I see.
Well, I have to say, Mrs Pumphrey, that I approve wholeheartedly.
Would you like to help yourself to another sherry, Mr Farnon?
-Sorry? -Another sherry?
Oh, no, thank you.
Uh, Mr Simmons?
Now, then I've invited you here
because I need help with a difficult problem.
What particular difficult problem did you have in mind, Mrs Pumphrey.
"The Midsumer vegetable show."
We desperately need the services of an impartial judge.
Every year I'm asked to organise it
and every year there are complaints about biased judging.
The entrants are so fiercely competitive, you see.
Tempers can run very high.
So, this year I thought
simply get a well respected local personage
who will be entirely beyond suspicion.
Mmm.
-Oh, no, no... -Oh, no.
Not Mr Simmons.
-One of you two. -Oh.
I don't want to throw a spanner in the works, Mrs Pumphrey,
but neither of us are expert on vegetables.
No.
But that's just it.
It's precisely all the local experts that everyone considered so unfair.
And then it came to me in a flash.
Who could be more respected than our three marvellous vets?
Well, I had invited your brother, too, tonight,
but I understand he's incapacitated.
-Yes, but... -I think that's a splendid idea.
Never mind. Never mind.
One of you two will do very well.
Now, Mr Simmons, the floor is yours.
Uh, Mr Simmons works in my bank, at Hargrow
and he's devised the most cunning plan to see that everything runs smoothly.
Mrs Pumphrey... (CLEARS THROAT)
Mrs Pumphrey was good enough to take me into her confidence
regarding her worries about creating a new
and completely confidential system for marking the entries in the show.
My solution is colour-coded, invigilated, numerical substitution.
Both simple and foolproof.
Instead of a card with the individual gardener's name on it,
there will be only a number,
the judge having no knowledge of which vegetable comes from which entrant.
Until he compares the number with the list of names.
Which he won't see,
until after the judging is complete.
Complete.
Isn't that brilliant?
Oh, yes. Marvellous.
And if all that weren't enough,
I won't even choose the judge myself this year.
-You won't? -No. Tricki will.
Who could be more impartial?
Could you bring him over here, darling.
All right, Aunt.
Thank you, my dear.
Now, my darling, think hard before you make up your mind.
Who is to be our judge this year?
Which one, Uncle Herriot, or Mr Farnon?
Which one?
Off you go.
Oh! (LAUGHS)
(SIGHS)
Goodbye, dear friends.
Bye, Mrs Pumphrey.
Didn't stand a prayer, James!
Anyone would think you didn't want the honour of judging the vegetable show.
Anyone will be right.
I've got a particular reason for not wanting
to make a fool of myself just at the moment.
-The divine Angela? -Huh? Was it that obvious?
Tris, knowing you as well as I do...
No, no, no, James. This is different.
Yes. Yes, 'course it is.
No, I mean really different!
I feel, I don't know, protective towards her.
All I want to do... And you can grin, James.
But all I want to do is to make her laugh again.
Oh, come on, Tris. All you want to do is enfold her in your manly arms!
Oh, yes, that too.
TRISTAN: You can drop me just down here on the left, James.
JAMES: I thought you wanted to be dropped off at Skeldale. TRISTAN: Er, no.
JAMES: Siegfried's gonna be very upset at you being AWOL all the time.
(SIGHS) Mrs A's invalid diet
and Siegfried's grumps are the bread of sorrow
and the waters of affliction, James.
I need cakes and ale.
You're a coward, Tris.
I can't think whisky's good for that foot of yours, Mr Farnon.
And I can't think it makes the faintest difference, Mrs Alton.
-Just me alone again for dinner, I see? -(WHISPERS) Yes.
(CLEARS THROAT) Yes.
You all right, Mrs A?
Yes, thank you.
What have you prepared for this lucky individual this evening?
A coddled egg and a light salad.
Just one?
No, there's two if you can manage them.
(BIRDS CHIRPING)
(KNOCKING AT DOOR)
-Is it, Mr Herriot? -That's right, Mrs Baxter.
It was nice of you to telephone.
Charlie and the others are waitin' for you.
Oh! Are they?
Don't stand out there, then.
Thank you.
Is he here?
Well then, Mr Herriot.
-Mr Herriot. -Hello, Mr Herriot.
Hughie, Bert, Charlie.
I... I didn't expect you'd be here.
Oh, I wouldn't miss this, Mr Herriot. (LAUGHS)
No. It's about your budgie, isn't it?
MRS BAXTER: Not that one. That's my new one.
Oh, yes. Yes, of course.
Well, what about your, old one?
I put him in dustbin.
Where is the dustbin?
-They emptied 'em this morning. -Ah.
Right, well if... If the dustmen have been,
it's gonna make it rather difficult to do a post-mortem in the usual way, you see.
Still, I can always draw what conclusions I can from the living, can't I?
Excuse me, Hughie. Thanks.
Well, he's looking a bit dejected, isn't he?
Perhaps he's not settled in yet.
Well...
Um...
This is a very small room, isn't it?
Hey up, Charlie.
Forgive me, Mrs Baxter, but there's a strong smell of frying.
Do you, um, do a lot of frying?
I mostly fry things, yes.
Yes. And always with...
Always with the windows closed like this?
Yes, I don't like draughts.
No, of course not.
And do you always keep your budgies in here?
Only since my husband died.
-I like the company. -Of course.
Mrs Baxter, I couldn't swear to it,
but I think it might have something to do with all your fry-ups. You know.
-Really? -Yes, really.
Now, I've only read about it,
but small birds have died in rooms where there's been a lot of frying in them.
Would you credit it?
Straight to the heart of the matter.
Frying fat gives off a chemical, apparently.
Now, I'm making no promises about your new budgerigar.
But keep him in another room anyway.
'Cause it probably isn't too healthy for him in here.
Well, I'll try it.
I'll put him in t' parlour.
At least when I'm doin' me cooking.
There.
Oh. Thank you.
What did I tell you, lads? That's magnificent! That, aye!
He's a knowledgeable man. Aye.
Why? Knowledgeable all right.
In just one week, we get the nymphomaniac,
the 'tatoed cow, an' the stiffed budgie.
It's a blooming hat trick!
(LAUGHING)
(CHUCKLES)
MRS BAXTER: Go on, get off with you!
Can't do with you under me feet all day long.
Oh! Get a move on, Charles!
All right! All right, I'm goin'.
I want a private word with Mr Herriot.
All right. Mr Herriot, I just want to say, thanks again.
-It were a privilege. -Oh, it's a pleasure.
We'll see you later then.
-Later? -Aye.
Vegetable show. Wouldn't miss that.
(LAUGHS)
Oh, good.
-Goodbye, Mrs Baxter. -HUGHIE: Goodbye.
Off you go!
-Now then, Mr Herriot. -Yes, Mrs Baxter?
My late husband was taken very sudden like.
Oh, I'm sorry.
What I want to know is,
would it have been cookin' fat that did for him too?
They said it were pneumonia,
but I didn't know about frying then.
Look, Mrs Baxter,
I'm not sure that it was the frying pan's fumes that killed the budgie.
But I'm positive they had no effect on your husband.
Good.
Well, goodbye then, and thank you for calling.
It's a pleasure, Mrs Baxter.
Well, there is considerable improvement, Mr Collins.
It's quite possible at her age the condition may never entirely...
Right, then, I'll be off. I'm in a rush today.
-Oh, fine. -(CAT MEOWING)
I hear that one of the vets is to be judge at show this afternoon.
-Yeah. -Wouldn't be you, would it?
No, it would not.
That's something to be thankful for, I suppose.
-(GLASSES SHATTERING) -MRS ALTON: Oh!
(SOBBING)
Mrs Alton? What happened?
I've had a turn.
I feel funny.
Oh, poor thing. Here.
You're not well. You must lie down.
I'll call Dr Allinson.
No, I don't want to put you out, Mr Farnon.
Don't be silly. I insist. Now, put your arm around.
Hold on to my shoulders.
-It's all right. -All right.
-Here we go! -Oh!
I'll get you to... (PANTING)
Ahh!
-Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Farnon. -Don't be so silly.
Don't be silly, Mrs A.
Come on. We'll do it together.
All right.
-Oh, dear. -Are you all right? Hold on tight.
We'll get you to a bed just as soon as... Ah!
Where in heaven's name is Tristan!
-Spectacular, isn't it? -Yes.
It was a wonderful lunch too.
It was Hodgekin's doing.
He's a funny old chap.
We must do this again.
Mmm.
And perhaps we could have dinner one evening?
Yes. Perhaps.
I wish I could stay up here longer with you,
but, um, I'm afraid there's a call I promised to make.
I wonder, would you mind coming to this farm with me
before I dropped you off?
Of course, if you'd rather not.
(STAMMERS) Just it would save time. I mean...
I'd love to.
Ah, you nearly laughed then. Admit it!
-You're late, Else. -Yeah. But they've only just lifted.
-(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING) -Thank you. Thank you.
I'm very happy to welcome so many familiar faces.
As you know,
the entries this year are all marked by number and not by name.
And for this we have to thank Mr Simmons...
(APPLAUDING)
Who's generously given up his time to allocate the numbers.
And he is the only person who knows to whom these numbers refer.
And your judge today needs no introduction from me.
Ladies and gentlemen, James Herriot.
(APPLAUDING)
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Well... I'll just go down and er...
-Please. -Thank you.
Thank you.
MRS PUMPHREY: Tricki. Tricki, come along.
Come along, my darling.
Mr Wilson.
He seems a bit livelier these last couple of days. Perhaps it's the rest he had.
How's Mr Farnon? All right, is he?
He'll be out of the plaster soon, if that's what you mean.
I gather there's a certain handkerchief we're to be wary of.
No need. I haven't got it on me today.
Ah, not too close, Angela.
We, um, don't want you in plaster too.
I'll stand here.
(INDISTINCT MURMURING)
(SIGHS)
(MOUTHING)
-Mrs Pumphrey. -Oh, are you ready, Mr Herriot?
No, actually I've got a bit of a problem.
Oh! What is it?
Um, Mr Simmons, would you excuse us for a moment?
-Oh, feel free, Mr Herriot. -Thank you.
All the entries look absolutely identical.
From what little I know, you can't tell one from the other.
Yes. I see.
-Let's think. -(TRICKI BARKS)
What, darling?
Yes.
If they all look the same, it won't matter which one you choose.
Clever boy.
-Mrs Pumphrey... -And Tricki says,
he has a very special prize for you, afterwards.
So, on with the judging!
It's responding very nicely, Mr Wilson.
You sure not hurting her?
Eh, him. No, no, he's fine.
Oh. He's very sweet.
-TRISTAN: Oh! -(HORSE NEIGHING)
Steady down, you foolish lad!
-What happened? -Steady now. Steady.
(CHUCKLES) It were your scarf.
It were your scarf that did it.
Well, I never!
I'd finished anyway. No damage done.
(ANGELA GIGGLING)
(ALL LAUGHING)
You're right, miss. Look at him, eh?
It's the funniest thing.
-Have you finished? -Yes. I thought we...
MRS PUMPHREY: Ladies and gentlemen. (TAPS TABLE)
May I have your attention, please.
Mr Herriot will now announce the winners.
Mr Simmons, would you oblige?
Mr Herriot will now compare the numbers he holds
with the ones on the confidential list.
(MAN COUGHING)
(INDISTINCT LOW MURMURING)
Here.
Ladies and gentlemen, sorry to keep you waiting.
The winner in the cabbages section is,
Mr William Hodgekin.
(APPLAUDING)
MRS PUMPHREY: He never entered anything before.
JAMES: Oh, well.
Well done, Mr Hodgekin.
While the winner in the young marrow section,
is Mr William Hodgekin.
It's a disgrace!
That's her gardener.
(ANGELA LAUGHING)
Do you have to do that?
I'm sorry, I can't help it.
I wish I could stay on for a bit after I've dropped you off,
but I'm afraid I must dash.
(CONTINUES LAUGHING)
(LOUDER MURMURING)
And, finally, the winner on the carrot section,
Mr William Hodgekin.
(APPLAUDING)
It's a shambles.
I'm terribly sorry.
(INDISTINCT SHOUTING)
-There's been foul play here. -ALL: Yeah!
I mean simple cheating!
-Are you British? -You what?
'Cause if you're British, you'll know how to lose like a man.
But it's a fix!
I hope you agree with me, you're going to lose like a man!
It's just one of those things.
I'm going to have a word with Hodgekin.
He should've told me he was entering things.
No, no, no missus.
Now, look again.
Here's your onion, and here's Mr Hodgekin's.
Now this, this is never a quality onion.
But this, this is an onion.
-Am I right, Bert? -Oh, aye.
That's an onion all right.
It's a shambles.
Amateurs! Amateurs!
Never mind. It was much worse last year.
I'm coming!
(DOORBELL RINGING) I'm coming. As fast as I can.
Don't go away.
(GROANS)
Here we are. Who are you?
I'm so sorry, Siegfried.
I left my keys behind in the rush.
How is she?
Harry Allinson says,
she's got a severe throat infection and a fever. She's in bed.
Oh, I am sorry.
I'm so pleased to see you, Helen.
-What've you given her to eat? -Soup.
-Just soup? -What.
Oh! What on Earth?
SIEGFRIED: Don't worry about anything in there, Helen.
I gave her soup. It's all that she wanted, believe me.
Now she wants tea.
Ah! Yes, well, I'll make it.
Oh! That's sweet of you, Helen. Thank you.
-'Cause I'm going out. -Where?
I'm going to find that brother of mine,
bring him back to face his manifest responsibilities.
Even if I have to put him in a bag and carry him.
(SIGHS) Mrs A!
Mrs Herriot's back.
She'll look after you. I'm going out for a while.
I shouldn't be long.
Thank you, Helen. You really are an angel from heaven.
-Goodbye. -Bye.
-(DOOR SLAMMING) -(SIGHS)
Now then, Mr Herriot!
Ah! Charlie, Hughie, Bert.
All right?
-Hello, James. -Hello, Tris.
Have I missed all the fun then?
Yes. Such as it was.
Oh, that's a pity. I needed something to cheer me up.
Oh! Marvellous, a hamper!
Delivered personally by Hodgekin, I suppose.
Er, no. Eh, yes.
It's from Tricki actually.
Tricki? Still I'm sure it's full of wonderful things. They always are.
Not now, Tris!
Well, I was only...
(SPLUTTERING ENGINE)
What the...
He shouldn't be driving with that foot.
You will come back to the surgery this very instant!
Without a word of an excuse!
You're absolutely right, Siegfried.
I refuse any longer...
What?
I was on my way.
I was just thinking how I'd been neglecting you.
And I think there's something to be said for the old bachelor life.
Shall we go then?
Here, you can have this, Tris.
Your need is greater than mine.
That's awfully decent of you, James.
The hamper!
Well, my God. That's exactly what we all need at this moment.
James, you're a marvel.
Oh, that's all right. I didn't really want it.
Uh, Tristan.
Would be kind and put that in the back of this car, please.
I want it under my eye at all times.
I suppose you're gonna drive looking backwards?
Just put it in the back, Tristan!
-Well, bye. -Goodbye, James.
-I'll see back there. -Yes, you will.
(ENGINE STARTING)
Just wanted to congratulate you, Mr Herriot.
-Pardon? -Aye, it was tremendous!
-Aye, it was. -It were tremendous.
-Ah, well... -Look, we know you fixed it,
and we've got some clues as to why? But how?
-How did you manage it? -It were tremendous.
Charlie, it was an accident. Honestly!
All right, no matter.
Your secret's safe wi' us.
We just want to say, we think you're a marvel.
-Don't we lads? -Marvel.
BERT: Marvel.
-(BERT CHUCKLES) -(SIGHS)
Thank you very much.
CHARLIE: Aye, away you go!