All language subtitles for All Creatures Great & Small - S07E11 - Hampered

(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?

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!