All language subtitles for Father.Brown.S12E04.1080p.iP.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.HFR.H.264.Hi

Hello, Mr Muckle.

Have you lost something?

Ah, Miss Hawthorn. I was just
looking for my daughter, Milly.

But she's not in
the milking parlour.

I thought I saw her
by the old Dutch barn,

but I may be mistaken.
The old barn?

What on earth would
she be doing there?

LIPS SMACK

Oh, Jethro!

MORE LIP SMACKING

Oh, Milly!

What am I going to tell Father?

Tell him that we're in love,
and there's nothing 'e can do.

The crabby old mucudgeon...
er, curmudgeon.

METAL SQUEAKS

LOUD FOOTSTEPS

Milly! I thought you'd put an
end to this wretched tryst.

It's not a tryst, Daddy.

We're getting married.

MUSIC BEGINS

You have been listening
to The Muckles,

an everyday story
of farming folk.

The radio newsreel
follows shortly.

Here he is! How was it for
you, Kenny? Another winner?

Well, it should work. Once
we put a symphony under it.

As you know, recently, the press
have been less than kind to us,

saying it's high time the
show was humanely slaughtered.

I try not to read those reviews.

Unfortunately, I have to.

But I've found a way to make
the show a bit more authentic.

We're going to spend
a week in the country,

see the landscape that
inspired The Muckles.

Mix and mingle with
actual local yokels.

Sorry, you want us to actually
go there? Yes, darling.

As opposed to closing our
eyes and imagining it.

That does sound rather jolly.

We'll see all the sights, then
come back suitably refreshed

and get to work.

Oh, no. We'll be broadcasting
all our shows there.

Live. What?

I can't believe the Muckles are
actually coming to our village.

And they will be
recording in our church.

I believe the producer
was born here.

It's like meeting
long-lost family.

I've been following their
adventures for years.

Yes, Mrs Devine. But remember
- they do not know YOU.

Of course.

I'll endeavour to be
nonchalant... They're here!

Hello, everybody!

VARIOUS GREETINGS

And do you all love The Muckles?

CHEERING

And who's your
favourite character?

You are!

That is the correct answer!

LAUGHTER

Hello, there!

You must be Mr Muckle!

Well, yes, I suppose I am.

I'm a big fan.

I cried my eyes out when your dog
fell in the threshing machine.

That's very kind. Thank you.

I'm sorry, excuse me...

Hello, there. Hello.

You must excuse him. He's been
reading the script on the bus,

and he does get a bit
emotional. Of course.

I'm Mrs Isabel Devine.

If there's anything you
need, or anything I can do...

So you actually live
here? That's right.

All the time? I wouldn't live
anywhere else for the world!

Oh, sorry!

You see, I know a lot of people
come to the country at the weekend,

but you forget that there are
people who live here all the time.

It's lovely to meet you.

Hello! I'm Kenneth Clay.

Writer and producer
of The Muckles.

Father Brown. I guessed as
much! I knew your predecessor.

Father Smythe. I heard you
were a native of Kembleford.

Many moons ago. Ah, the church.

That will look magnificent
in our publicity photographs.

Bells!

Yes, we have eight.

No. They're not going to ring,
are they, when we're broadcasting?

Our studio is rather ramshackle.

Well, they will ring
tomorrow for Sunday mass,

and then I assure you they will be
silent for the rest of the week.

Oh, marvellous. Panic over.

Kenneth? Yes?

It's lovely being here and
talking to these country bumpkins,

but where is our hotel?

Ah. See that
farmhouse over there?

Well, this is very rustic.
However did you find it?

Um, I was born here.

Really? Yes. I can still see
Father coming through this door,

Mother telling him to
take his muddy boots off.

Kenneth, this is all fascinating,
but is there a telephone?

I think I might need
to make a phone call.

Down this corridor,
in the hallway.

Thank you.

And what I want to know is,
which is the biggest bedroom?

Up the stairs. First
door on the left. Lovely.

Typical.

Hello again!

Hello. I forgot
to give you these.

Sausage rolls and
a Victoria sponge.

Oh! Oh, I never say no
to a nice sausage roll.

Our producer was just saying
this was his family home.

I still own it.

I think it's remarkable.

You always said Mr Muckle
was based on your father,

but I had no idea he
was a real farmer.

Farming was his livelihood,
but he had another passion.

I'll show you.

Oh!

It's a type 45 radio!

Oh. Are you interested in
broadcasting equipment?

I'm afraid, Mr Clay, I am
interested in almost everything.

So, was your father a radio ham?

My father was no ham.
Ham can be cured!

LAUGHTER

He used this kit to broadcast
to fellow enthusiasts,

giving out useful information in
the dark days of the last war.

And you followed his footsteps
into the world of radio.

I did.

And now, whenever we give out
farming advice on The Muckles, well,

I only hope I'm worthy of him.

The Muckles? That's right.

Are you a fan? Ooh, as soon
as I hear that theme tune,

I run towards the
radio... to turn it off.

Brenda, that's not fair.

Once you've been listening
for years, they become family.

All the more precious when
your own family aren't around.

Although you did say it's
not quite as good as it was?

I suppose. Although
I am looking forward

to Milly and Jethro's
wedding episode.

Speaking of which...

Oh, my word! It's wonderful.

I only hope my wedding
can be half as glamorous.

What do they want all this
stuff for? It's on the radio.

Publicity photographs.

Oh. It's for the Radio Times.

We are behind the scenes!

So... is it a good fit?

It's fine. So long
as I don't breathe.

Mr Clay! Oh, Father Brown!

We're just making a few
last-minute adjustments.

HE HUMS

Charlie, could you please
put on the top hat?

I don't think so.
It's a small magazine

and if I'm going to fit all of
my face on that cover, then...

Just do it to humour me?

Yes, Mein Fuhrer!

HE STAMPS HIS FOOT FORMALLY

I must say, the acoustics in
this place are marvellous.

Will work wonderfully
for the actual episode.

Yes, Annabel. You could
whistle a happy tune here.

CHARLIE WHISTLES

Oh, Miss Warmley! You look...

Ravishing!

I mean, it's a beautiful dress.

The photographer seems to agree.

He's actually keen to
get me on the cover.

Of course.

Well, are you ready
for your close-up?

Oh, thank you.

CAMERA CLICKS

Hello, hello, hello,
hello, hello, hello.

Hello, people! How'd you like a
slice of my luverly, luverly cakie?

My mamma mia, she used
to make-a the cake

and eat-a the cake
every single day.

But you know my mamma,
she did not live too long.

Huh?

Oh, lady! Would you
like to try-a the cake?

No, thank you.

Just a little slice of the cake.

No. But your eyes! Your
eyes and the cake -

they match!

You stupid, selfish,
little worm!

Why do you always have
to ruin everything?

Why don't you just
drop down dead?

Elizabeth.

Idiot.

So, Mr Muckle.

This wedding will be happening,

whether ye likes it or not.

HE LAUGHS LOUDLY

Oh... Two minutes over.

Which should be all right
with a few judicious cuts.

However, we don't have
anyone to do sound effects.

Why not? Myfanwy has been
in a minor car crash.

This whole show is a car crash.

Elizabeth, you've
done it before.

Could you operate,
just for this evening?

Well, no.

How can I? I have that
big speech on page seven.

Although we were looking
at making some cuts,

so if we were to get
rid of your speech...

It's not ideal, I know.

But we're running out of
time, and I keep wondering

what calamity is going to
come through that door next.

Hello! It's us! Hello.

Father Brown, I'm so
glad you could make it.

We're very keen to see what
goes into a live broadcast.

Blood, sweat and tears, mostly.
CHARLIE VOCALISES LOUDLY

It's all happening here!

Yes, indeed.

Charlie, can you do your warm-up
in the green room, please?

Jawohl!

Goodness! It does
seem quite chaotic.

Yes, we're just dealing with
a few pre-performance nerves

but once that "on air" sign
comes on, all will be well.

LOUD GRUNTING

Oh, it's amazing!

If you close your eyes, you
can actually see the axe.

Please, Daddy, Jethro
would like a word with you.

Really? Well, come on, then.

What have you got
to say for yourself?

CHARLIE CLEARS HIS THROAT

Huh...

Mr Muckle...!

Play the music. For God's
sake, play the music!

You have been listening
to The Muckles,

an everyday story of farming
folk. Charlie! Charlie?

The radio newsreel
follows shortly. Charlie?

Charlie!

It's too late.

In nomine patris et filii
et spiritus sancti, amen.

Are you all right?
Just a bit shaken.

Father, I assume you
witnessed the proceedings?

Yes, I did.

Throughout the episode, Mr
Chumley seemed in discomfort.

Then, at the end, he
suffered a paroxysm.

Had he had anything to eat
or drink in the past hour?

There was that throat spray.

He was gulping that down
like he was dying of thirst.

Who's in charge here?

I am. Kenneth Clay.

Although perhaps
not for much longer.

20 million people just
heard a man die live on air.

Don't know about that. We had
the wireless on at the station,

and it sounded like Jethro
had been on the cider again.

Thank goodness for that!

Well, I need a drink, or you'll
have another body on the floor.

I'll get you some water.

No! No-one's to touch anything.

I'll take your
statements outside.

It's going to be a long night.

Hello, there!
Something smells good.

Oh! Mrs, um, Wotsit left
us some bits and pieces.

And some eggs from the
henhouse. How lovely!

This whole week could be rather
jolly if it wasn't for...

all the disasters. I
couldn't sleep a wink.

I kept seeing him writhing on
the floor, reaching out for help.

You do know that if you
get nervous in the night,

you can always come
into my room, no, no...

Sorry, sorry, that
sounded a bit, um...

No, it's fine!

Well, anyone who says
an actress' life is easy

should spend a night
in this hell-hole.

A mattress made of straw, and an
absolute maniac underneath me.

Maniac? Kenneth.

I'm just over his study.

And he was up all night -

bash, bash, bashing on
that machine of his!

Listen!

Come on!

HIGH-PITCHED: "He's left me, Daddy!
"He's called off the wedding!"

DEEPER: "Oh, darling,
is it too soon to say

"good riddance to bad rubbish"?

What are you listening to?

Father Brown! We were just
listening to our producer.

Yes, he records all his episodes
on tape and then he types them up.

And as you can imagine, we're very
keen to know what happens next.

Oh! Good morning!

Now, I've spoken to the DG, the head
of department, and Charlie's mother,

and everyone is very
keen that we continue.

Now, we're keeping his
death quiet for now,

but we'll make an
announcement on Friday.

Ah, the wedding episode.

I take it you'll not now
be requiring St Mary's?

Actually, we will.

Milly is going to be
jilted at the altar.

Rejected by the only
man she ever loved.

There won't be a dry eye
in the United Kingdom.

Marvellous!

And what about Mr Muckle?

He's going to make
peace with his daughter,

apologise for all
the hurt he's caused,

and then he's going to
try and persuade her

that there are
brighter days ahead.

Oh! Sounds good.

Now, as it's a lovely day, I think
we should go and rehearse outside.

Although I still need
someone to do sound effects.

BOX CONTENTS CLATTER

Cowbells, fog-horns and wind
noises! Why did he think of me?

He saw how engrossed you
were yesterday evening,

and Mr Clay is a very
good judge of character.

Welcome.

This is the barn where my father
would gather winter fodder,

and come home covered in chaff.

Right.

Are you sitting comfortably?

Well, then we'll begin.

Now, let's make
some Muckles magic!

BELL JANGLES

Oh, Miss Hawthorn, I must say,

you've worked wonders with
my old Aberdeen longhorn.

Whatever is your secret?

It's very simple. Her udders
were looking a little sore,

so I rubbed on my unguent.

Spearmint flower
and fresh camomile.

Well, it's had the most
remarkable effect on her yield.

Which just goes to show...
LIQUID POURS LOUDLY

when you treat animals with
respect, they repay you tenfold.

Speaking of respect, you do need
to sort things with your daughter.

Milly has made her own bed,
be it lumpy and uncomfortable.

Mr Muckle, Jethro may
be coarse and uncouth,

but he has a good heart.
And love is such a rare...

"And precious thing in
this world." Carry on.

Ladies and gentlemen,
sorry for interrupting,

we need a word, Miss
Hawthorn. I mean...

Elizabeth Warmley,
I'm arresting you

on suspicion of the
murder of Charlie Chumley.

Oh, Father, I can't bear it.

They've been interrogating
me for three hours.

After a while, you want to
confess just to make it stop!

Why did they arrest you?

Apparently, someone put poison
in Charlie's throat spray.

Strychnine.

And they found traces of it
on my sound effects table.

They've been going through
all my possessions -

my luggage, my clothes!

It didn't help that yesterday,
you told him to drop down dead.

For once in his
life, he listened!

I can see that Mr Chumley

was not easy to get on with.

Do you know of anyone who might
have a lethal grudge against him?

Well, there was Annabel.

I mean, she had to marry him!

Ah, yes.

I know she was
dreading this trip.

Demanded Wednesday morning off
so she could go back to London.

And then on Sunday night...

Yes?

I heard her on the
telephone to her agent.

Sobbing. Saying Charlie
had ruined everything.

Did she say how?

I never heard that.

Oh...

Please! I...

I have to get back to Graham.

We must work on our scenes.

Yes, Miss Warmley.

I will do everything possible
to make sure that happens.

Father, I feel I'm in hell.

I mean, poor Charlie.

But then, poor Elizabeth.

And poor everyone! We don't
even know if the show is safe.

It must be a very precarious
occupation, acting.

Forever searching for
the next job. Yes!

It's a nonstop round of
begging letters and auditions.

Is that why you asked for
Wednesday morning off,

so you could go back to London?

No.

No, I won't be
going to London. No?

I had an audition.

But now I don't.

Would that have been for a
show called The King And I?

How do you know?

Well, at the wedding
photography session yesterday,

Charlie Chumley taunted you, he said
you could "Whistle A Happy Tune",

and that is a song
from The King And I.

It is.

And it was going to
be my West End debut.

Only, on Sunday night, my agent
said they didn't want to see me.

Someone had told them
that I was unreliable.

Unreliable! Me!

And you think that someone
was Charlie Chumley?

It had to be.

He was the only one who knew.

Why would Mr Chumley
sabotage your career?

Oh... Isn't it obvious? He wanted
to be the star of The Muckles.

And by marrying me,
taking over the farm...

But if I left, it would
make life difficult for him,

so I think he made a
few phone calls and...

KNOCK ON DOOR

Come in!

Hello.

We have a situation.
In the pigsty.

Hello! Father, forgive me.

I was just looking
for the piggies.

Napoleon, Snowball, Squealer.

Kenneth, you do know
it's not a farm any more?

The animals died some time ago.

They're all still
here in my memory.

Running around with
their little curly tails.

Annabel, could you
come in with me?

But I've got my suedes on.

Then could you make a
strong pot of coffee?

Yes. I could definitely do that.

Do you know what they
call a little piggy,

the teeniest in the litter?

That would be the runt. Yes.

That's what my father
used to call me.

"You're a runt.

"A pathetic
seven-stone weakling."

But I am not a runt!

I am a BBC producer!

Yes, and a very fine
one. No, I'm not!

I just seem to ruin everything.

I thought coming here would
breathe new life into the show.

But now Charlie's dead,

Elizabeth's been locked up,

and I don't know what to
do for tonight's episode!

Kenneth, give me that.

That was a disgusting waste!

Not at all.

In fact, the earthworms are
having a marvellous party.

But your job is to
entertain the nation.

But we haven't got a show!

Oh, come on, Kenneth. We've
weathered worse storms than this.

Storms?

Storms, yes. Yes,
that... That's it!

Thank you.

Well done, Mr Snow.
Very persuasive.

The thing is - my part
was based on his father,

so I always get through to him.

Now I just have to work out
what to do for poor Elizabeth.

Miss Warmley?

Oh, dear. Not more
questions. No.

But it's seven o'clock.

I thought you might like
to listen to the wireless.

I'd rather be on it,

but it will be nice to know
how my friends are doing.

All right, then.

THE MUCKLES THEME MUSIC BEGINS

THUNDER-LIKE RATTLING

Oh! Oh!

This is the most terrible storm!

You think I don't know?
I'm soaked to the skin!

Milly, I know we've
had our disagreements,

but we have to work together
for the sake of the farm.

Poor Miss Hawthorn's
gone missing, and...

Where are her horses?

I think they've bolted.

Moonlight? Moonlight!
HORSE GALLOPS

Moonlight!

How's the head, Mr Clay?

Oh, much better, thank you.

I was just rather
overwhelmed by recent events.

But everything's
back on track now.

GALLOPING HORSE SOUND
EFFECTS Easy, boy. Easy...

Well, I thought that was
the best episode ever.

Your wind noises were wonderful.

I know! And when the horse
got stuck in the mud,

you know it's not real, but you
start to see it in front of you.

I think it's because we're
all listening together.

20 million people,
all believing.

The episode's going very well,
in spite of all the disasters.

And now they have
another disaster.

No, Chief Constable, she clearly
told him to drop down dead.

No, not in the programme, she
actually said it in real life.

Excuse me.

Please tell me you have some
good news from the labs.

Mr Clay?

Mr Clay?

"Dead? But no,
Daddy, he can't be."

"I'm afraid so. Crushed
by an old oak tree."

Father Brown?

Mr Clay. Forgive me.

I am, as you know, an
avid Muckles listener.

Fair enough. Though I would prefer
you to wait till the actual episode.

Which I am sure
will be gripping.

I have just read the interview
with the late Charlie Chumley.

Oh, Lord.

Break it to me gently.

He said he writes scripts
for The Muckles...

Ha! No. Absolutely not.

That was just Charlie
spinning a yarn.

Believe me, there is only
one captain on this ship.

And what would the
captain do, Mr Clay,

should one of the
crew threaten mutiny?

Father, I hope you're not
suggesting something unsavoury.

There were many times I could have
cheerfully murdered Charlie Chumley.

But I've been through hell this
week. Writing and rewriting.

We will have a wonderful episode
in the church this evening.

But nothing like
my original plan.

What was the original plan? Well, it
was going to be the wedding episode.

Jethero would be late, of
course. Always adds to the drama.

Then at the end of this
joyous, happy episode...

Mr Muckle was going to die.

What? That's the reaction
I was hoping for.

Certainly surprised Graham on
the bus. But I kept telling him,

"If you're going to go, you
may as well go in style."

We've got a visitor!

Apparently, some very
important solicitor

who knows the Chief Constable

demanded that they look
at the evidence again.

And as there's nothing
conclusive, I'm out on police bail

pending further enquiries. But who
exactly instructed this solicitor?

I don't know. I must
have a guardian angel.

It doesn't matter who it was.

The main thing is -
you're in tonight's show.

And the show must go on.

Mr Snow, might I
have a private word?

I presume YOU were
responsible for the solicitor.

Was it that obvious?

The thing is, I know beyond
all doubt she didn't do it.

How can you be so sure?

Because Elizabeth is the
kindest person I've ever met.

She's just like the sun.

As soon as she appears,
everyone feels better.

Are you in love
with her, Mr Snow?

More than you could
possibly imagine.

Have you told her about
your feelings? How could I?

We have the most wonderful
time together, but what if...

she doesn't feel the same way?

So, no, no, I just carry
on sharing a microphone,

but never my feelings.

Admiring Miss Warmley from afar.

But that was about to change.

You were going to be
written out of The Muckles.

Indeed, on the way here, you read
a script... in which he dies.

Which distressed you greatly.

Of course it did!
How would you feel?

I've been totally
devoted to this show,

and then to be tossed aside...

And yet you were
not tossed aside.

Thanks to Mr Chumley's death, you
will remain. As will Miss Warmley.

Father Brown, I don't
know who killed Charlie,

but I would never
be brave enough.

You see, I've been in love
with Elizabeth for ten years,

and I'm still too
terrified to tell her.

I'm not a man who takes risks.

Indeed.

But an hour ago, Miss
Warmley was in a cell,

and now she is enjoying
the taste of freedom.

Perhaps it's time you
escaped from your cell.

Here we go. Hot off the press.

So, what's actually
going to happen?

Milly learns of the
death of Jethro.

And will be furious with
her father, of course.

But Miss Hawthorn will
bring them back together.

Then, having brought
peace to the Muckles,

she reveals that her
sister is very ill

and she has to move
back to London.

London? The thing is, Elizabeth,

it's marvellous that
you're out on bail, but...

Who knows what happens next?
We have to think of the show.

Now, hang on! No, no.
I... I understand.

Now we also need a friend
and confidante for Milly.

Father Brown? Yes?

I realise this is
unlikely, but...

do you know of any actresses?

This is the greatest
honour of my entire life.

Although I am terrified. What
if I mess up my first line?

What is your first line?

"Hello, Milly."

I'm not going to think about
the 20 million listeners.

I'm doing it for these
people. My friends.

Oh, there's Edgar!

Isn't it romantic?

If you see any decorations
you like, just let me know

and I'll try and keep hold of
them. Oh, that's wonderful, Isabel,

but I'm afraid I'm not here
just for your performance.

I'm also here to keep an eye

on someone who remains our
number one suspect. Oh...

But good luck! Thank you.

Ah, there we are.

Hello, everyone.

Thank you for coming to this
live transmission of The Muckles.

We would ask you, please,
to remain in your pews,

and avoid any extraneous noise.

Obviously, I have asked Father
Brown to silence the bells.

CHUCKLING

Are we ready at the back?

When the "on air"
sign illuminates,

we will be live to the nation.

Mr Clay, may I have a word?

I am a bit busy!

But I'm afraid this can't wait.

And I'm sure the show
will go on without you.

Tonight's episode is dedicated
to Mr Charlie Chumley,

a much-loved member
of The Muckles cast,

who sadly passed away this week.

May I say, it is such a great
privilege to watch you work,

conjuring stories out of thin
air and committing them to tape.

Well, I've had to do that.
Sheer pressure of time.

I heard the recording you made

of your characters reacting
to the death of Jethro.

And in the background, I
could hear the church bells.

But the bells only rang
on Sunday this week.

Which means that you were preparing
for the death of Charlie Chumley

while he was still alive.

I think you're forgetting
my profession, Father.

I do use sound effects.

And I think you're
forgetting mine.

I would know the sound of
St Mary's bells anywhere.

What did Mr Chumley do

that made you decide
he had to die?

Or what did he discover?

I suspect the answer lies in
your father's love of radio.

What do you mean?

I was very intrigued by
the map in his study.

Great Britain,
studded with pins.

London, Coventry,
Liverpool, Southampton.

And then I realised they
were all cities that suffered

major bombing raids
in World War II.

A strange thing for
a farmer to record.

And then when I returned,
the map had been removed.

It was in the way. I wanted
to make the place my own.

William Joyce, the traitor,
known as Lord Haw-haw,

broadcast every night on
behalf of the Nazi Party,

celebrating every
bomb that fell.

I wonder, did your father
attempt the same sort of thing?

Perhaps as an aficionado,

he would know how to evade
detection by the authorities.

And then Mr Chumley
called you Mein Fuhrer.

I wonder,

did Charlie Chumley find
out your father's secret?

I should have known that
Charlie would go snooping.

He went looking for
beer or cigarettes.

Hello!

And he found something
a lot more deadly.

What's this?

Oh, my word. What...

have we... here?

What are you doing?

I'm... reading a letter.

From an old friend
of your father's.

What friend?

Well, it's a...
It's a German name.

Oh, look at that.

It's Joseph Goebbels.

Father would never...

So, Mr Chumley knew
a terrible secret.

And had immense power.

He did. Suddenly, he thought
he was in charge of the show.

He gave me a list
of suggestions.

And they were awful.

So, have you had a
look at my ideas?

I did, but you must be joking.

Jethro's evil twin? Flying
saucers? An alien invasion?

It would kill the show.

Then why don't we do an episode

where someone turns out
to be a Nazi instead?

You could not allow him to destroy
the beautiful thing you created,

so you had to destroy him.

It all seemed to
fall into place.

The farmhouse was
full of rat poison.

And he had that ridiculous
throat spray he used to use.

I had hoped that he would
die later, at the pub.

But Charlie always
had terrible timing.

When he died, you ran
to loosen his clothing.

You were picking his pockets...

to retrieve the letter
from Herr Goebbels.

An everyday story
of farming folk...

Charlie? Charlie!

I had hoped to keep
my father's secret.

I can't even manage that.

Your father went to his
maker, and was judged.

Now you have to confess,

and beg God's forgiveness.

Confess? How can I?

I am The Muckles,
Father. I created it.

Without my particular
vision, it would be lost.

Your programme is loved by millions.
But you must tell the truth,

and save your soul.

For the sake of my listeners,

I must keep my head
down and carry on.

Now, if you'll
excuse me, Father.

Oh, Milly.

I know this was meant to be
the happiest day of your life,

but just be glad you've
got your friends and family

who love you very much.

I know. And Jethro will
always live on... in my heart.

Well, I'm just glad
we're all friends again.

Because, as you know,
my sister is very ill.

And family is the
most precious thing.

And so I must... leave you.

No! No!

You can't possibly go!

What? Why ever not?

Because...

I love you!

Oh!

APPLAUSE, THEME TUNE
BEGINS Graham...

Well, I don't think anyone
was expecting that ending,

but... they seemed to like it.

Yes! It certainly came
as a surprise to me.

But a very welcome one.

Kenneth, I'm...

I'm so sorry, that was most
unprofessional of me...

No.

In fact, it was perfect.

And it's made me realise the
show can go on without me.

What do you mean,
darling? You are the show.

Not any more.

Chief Inspector?
May I have a word?

Certainly.

So, thank you, my darlings.

And, please... look
after the show for me.

So, have you enjoyed your week
in Kembleford, Miss Binky?

Well, it's been...
extraordinary.

But I don't know how people
cope with no theatre, no cinema,

no culture of any kind. Hang on!

We can still turn on the
radio and listen to you.

Oh! Of course!

And that's what keeps you going.

Well, I'd better get back to
London and make some more episodes.

Goodbye!

Father Brown. I want to thank
you for performing a miracle.

And which miracle would that be?

You got a crusty old
curmudgeon to open his heart.

It was a miracle I'd been
waiting for, for ten years.

And you'll be pleased to hear
we've spoken to our new producer.

Oh, so what's going to happen?

There will be wedding bells.

Both on the programme
and... in real life.

HORN TOOTS Oh. Well...

Goodbye! Goodbye.

You know I said I can't
stand The Muckles?

Yes?

Kind of like it now.

I think I might miss them.

Oh, Brenda! You don't
need to miss them.

They'll always be there for you.

Every evening at seven.

Your invisible friends.

Aw...