All Creatures Great and Small

I say!

Yeah?

What does tha think thou doing, young man?

Well, I'm taking it down, aren't I?

I can see that. Why are thou taking it down?

That's what I wanted to know.

-Orders. -Whose blithering orders?

Well, the government's.

All signposts have to come down by order of Whitehall.

To confuse the enemy if they invade.

So that's the idea, is it? To confuse the enemy?

Aye!

Well, if I were leading, I'd leave it up, lad.

This has been pointing to the wrong road

ever since Adam were a lad.

-Darrowby 85. Mr Farnon?

Is that Len Hamson?

That's right. Len Hamson here!

Mallock foal farm!

I thought I recognised the voice.

You can hear me, can ya?

Yes, distinctly, Mr Hamson.

Only it's this bacon pig of mine.

Gone real moldy.

Can you send somebody out to have a look at the poor bugger?

Yeah, well, it will have to be tomorrow morning, Mr Hamson.

In the morning it is, then.

Thank you!

Spot of ear trouble, Siegfried?

Perforated eardrum, I think. That was Len Hamson.

Oh, I see.

One of his bacon pigs has gone moldy.

He'd like someone to come up and have a look at it!

Really?

You know, it occurs to me, James,

when you think how difficult it is usually to get these hill farmers

to part with their brass,

Len Hamson's remarkably profligate with his.

How do you mean?

I mean, why pay tuppence for a telephone call

when you can bellow your message across country

from the top of the nearest wall?

Why does he shout all the time, Siegfried? Is he deaf?

He thinks everybody else is.

Oh, well,

I must say the prospect of spending half an hour in a pigsty with Len Hamson

and that voice of his doesn't exactly fill me with delight, but still...

One for Tristan, perhaps?

My dear James, that's a thoroughly treacherous suggestion,

and an extremely good idea.

-Siegfried, have you got a minute? -Yes, course!

-Now then, Tristan... -It's this dog.

-Whose? -Bert Bartle's.

-Hello, Bert. -Oh, Mr Farnon.

-What's the trouble? -It's me dog, Mr Farnon.

I don't know what's wrong with her.

-She's stiff as a board. -Let's have a look, shall we?

Tristan, get a pile of old newspapers and another blanket.

Put them under her head.

Now...

This first injection, Bert...

Is an emetic

to make her vomit.

Aye, but what on earth's happened to her, Mr Farnon?

Do you know?

Yes, I do.

She's been poisoned

with strychnine.

2cc of pentobarbital, Tristan.

-Strychnine! -It's important we should keep our voices down.

Yes, the symptoms are quite unmistakable.

How long's she been in this condition?

Well, I found her against the back door not but 20 minutes ago,

and I brought her right down.

Thank you.

Now, it's vital that at all costs we relax these muscles.

I want that vein out, Tristan, on her leg.

Is she going to be all right, Mr Farnon?

I'm afraid that does rather depend, Bert,

on how long the poison has been in her system.

Aye. You see, the trouble is I'm due to go over to Broughton,

and I won't be back till late tonight.

Why don't you leave her here with us?

In fact, it would be better if you did. We can keep an eye on her, you see.

Are you sure that's going to be all right?

Yes. Don't you worry. We'll do everything we can.

Telephone or look in this evening.

Where on earth could she have picked up strychnine?

Well, of course a lot of people do use it round here,

gamekeepers and whatnot.

I must say, they are usually scrupulously careful about keeping the stuff

out of the way of domestic pets, not to mention children, for heaven's sake.

Whoever is responsible for this has been guilty of quite criminal negligence.

I'll bet there's not one German in a million wanted to march into Poland,

but they did it, didn't they?

Just 'cause one daft bat with a tache told them to.

Crazy.

Oh, thank you, Mr Tristan.

-Morning, James. -Morning, Tris.

-Helen's at work, is she? -Huh? Oh, yes.

Tonight's the night.

You have warned the good woman we could be late getting back?

-Of course I have. Yeah! -Tonight's what night?

Oh, hello, Siegfried. I didn't see you creeping about there.

Oh, I thought you didn't.

Well, I'm not creeping about anywhere.

I'm strolling through my house

in a perfectly relaxed and civilised fashion.

As opposed to drifting around it like a limp balloon,

which is your usual method of locomotion. You were saying about tonight?

Oh, didn't I tell you about it?

You know, I don't believe you did.

Well, it's not really your sort of thing, is it?

In that case, what sort of thing is it?

It's a memorial service.

-A memorial service? -Yes, at the church tonight.

You're going to church deliberately, and of your own volition?

Oh, yes. James and I. Isn't that right, James?

-Oh, yes, absolutely right. -Wonders will never cease.

And of what precisely is this service in memoriam?

The Darrowby bell-ringers.

Great Scott! They can't all have perished at one fell swoop.

Not the members, Siegfried, the society.

I'm finding increasing difficulty following this.

It's perfectly straightforward, really.

As you probably know, the vicar has announced in future, the church bells

-must only be rung in case of enemy invasion. -Ah, yes, yes, yes.

Well, there doesn't seem much point in having

a bell ringing society with no bells to ring,

so we're disbanding until after the war's over,

and there's this service to mark the occasion, you see.

You don't say?

Yes, in fact it's a pity you're on call tonight, Siegfried.

You could have come along.

I mean, I should say it's going to be a

pretty moving occasion, really.

In fact, very moving indeed.

# Hang out the washing on the Siegfried Line

# 'Cause the washing day is here

# Whether the weather may be wet or fine

# We'll just rub along without a care

# We're gonna hang out the washing

# On the Siegfried Line

# If the Siegfried line's still there #

One more time!

Evening, Mr Herriot.

Hello, Mr Adamson. How are you?

I keep battling on, you know.

-Can I buy you a drink? -No more for me, thanks.

You'll have me talking to gas lamps on the way home.

Well, how's old Nip keeping these days, eh?

Oh, he'll see me out, all right.

Come on, Mr Adamson. You're good for another 20 years, yeah?

-You reckon? -Mmm.

# We're gonna hang out the washing

# On the Siegfried Line

# If the Siegfried Line's still there #

Come along, James, it's your round I think.

Well, I've only just started this one, Tris.

Actually, then apply yourself, James. Apply yourself.

The lights are going out all over Europe.

From the look in George's eye, they'll be going out here soon.

Same again, please, George.

-Right. -Thank you.

Oh, serve me first, lad!

All right. I've only got one pair of hands, you know!

-Two pints, was it, Mr Herriot? -Please, George. Yes.

After me, that is.

That's right, Rob. After you.

-That is Rob Benson, isn't it? -Yes.

Let himself go a bit, hasn't he?

Has done for about a year now,

ever since he lost his wife, apparently.

Oh, I see.

-He isn't one of your bell-ringers, is he? -Good grief, no!

Tris, how did you get mixed up with this lot?

There can't be one of them a day under 90.

-It was all Siegfried's idea, actually. -Oh?

Yes, it was the year I failed parasitology

so spectacularly for the first time.

Poor old Siegfried flew into one of his rages,

threatened to kick me out, then launched into a long lecture

about the debauched life I was leading,

and how I need an outside interest.

An interest outside The Drover's Arms, you mean?

Yes, right. And he knew just the thing, he said, because the vicar

was looking for new blood for his bell ringing group.

-Here we are, Mr Herriot. -So he put my name down.

It was one of Siegfried's brighter ideas, that I've always thought. Cheers!

Cheers!

(SYMPHONY MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO)

Huh! Come in.

-Hello, Mr Farnon. -Hello, Bert.

You couldn't do owt for her, then?

I'm afraid not.

-Where is she? -She's in the surgery.

Aye. I'll take her with me.

Right you are. Right you are.

She's over there in the corner.

If it's any consolation at all, Bert,