11x21 - The sh**t

[bunniefuu]

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why do you miss when my baby kisses me?

♪ Heartbeat, Why does

♪ a love kiss

♪ stay in my memory? ♪

SONG: 'Turn! Turn! Turn!'

♪ To everything Turn, Turn, Turn

♪ There is a season

♪ Turn, Turn, Turn

♪ And a time for every purpose

♪ Under heaven

♪ A time to be born A time to die

♪ A time to plant A time to reap

♪ A time to k*ll A time to heal

♪ A time to laugh A time to weep

♪ To everything Turn, Turn, Turn

♪ There is a season

♪ Turn, Turn, Turn

♪ And a time for every purpose

MAN: Hey!

♪ Under heaven... ♪

Hey!

Hey!

Hey!

TELEPHONE RINGS

Hello? Yes, Bernard.

It's arrived, has it?

I'll be right down, as soon as I've had some breakfast.

ON RADIO: 'Yesterday' by Val Doonican

Ow!

It's arrived, David.

What has?

You'll see.

DAVID: You need to see a doctor about that.

Oh!

Oh...

Oh.

DOG WHINES

Everything to your satisfaction, Mrs Langley?

Yes, thank you, although I did ask for brown toast.

Well, in that case, please allow me to organise some.

No, no. It's of no consequence. I've managed.

But if you could ask your girl to remember tomorrow?

Right.

Hello, darling. How are our pheasants?

Like sitting ducks, my sweet. Like sitting ducks.

Urgh! Dear me.

Yes, Mr Langley?

That coffee is stone cold.

I'll have some fresh sent through.

And I should think so, at these prices.

Oh, aye? What's all this, then?

If you really want to know, it's Mrs Ventress's idea.

It doesn't sound like the Mrs V I know.

- Well, it's all part of her plan. - What plan?

To help me give up smoking.

Oh, no. Not again?

Well, her view is, if God wanted us to smoke,

he'd have given us chimneys.

Remember the last time you gave up?

You practically walked around with a swastika on your arm.

The point is,

she's got this get fit fad going at the moment.

Well, I draw the line somewhere.

So, instead, I've agreed to give up fags.

It'll end in tears, Alf.

MERTON: Bellamy! Bellamy, those files!

Tears, Alf.

I was out walking my dog when somebody shot him.

Do something about it, because if you don't, I will.

Where did this take place, Mr Arkwright?

Up at Ashfordly's estate.

This man you say shot your dog, it wasn't Lord Ashfordly?

- Hardly. He loves dogs. - Sure it wasn't the gamekeeper?

He didn't look like a gamekeeper. He tried to run me down.

Did you get the number of the vehicle?

I did.

Leave it with me, Mr Arkwright.

I'll make a few enquiries.

Oh, and let's have no more talk of doing something about it yourself.

Right?

What is it?

It's what's known in military circles as a half-track, David.

It's capable of negotiating the most inhospitable terrains.

And you've bought it?

Well, I haven't actually paid for it yet. First things first, eh?

Well...what do we want with one of them?

Patience, David. All will be revealed.

But first, a little word with my brother.

Bradley, are you looking for me?

If you own this vehicle, my lord.

I'm not guilty of that, I'm afraid. The property of one Oliver Langley.

He and his wife are staying here for a few days. Why?

Been some sort of traffic incident, has there?

A sh**ting incident, my lord, on your land.

Good lord. Really?

You'd better come in.

This Mr Langley, he's a friend of yours, is he?

They're staying here as paying guests, actually.

I see.

The land where the incident took place is my pheasant release pen.

Langley's booked it for the season.

Oh, yes?

He's bringing chaps down from London for it,

business acquaintances he's keen to impress,

that sort of thing.

They'll all be staying here, as well.

What on earth could he be thinking of, sh**ting a dog like that?

Perhaps I should ask him, my lord.

Who are you thinking of invading? Abyssinia?

Oh, very comical, Bernard, I'm sure.

What possible use could you have for a Churchill t*nk?

Answer me one question.

What has Yorkshire got that no-one else has?

Yorkshire pudding.

Unrivalled scenic beauty.

The only trouble is, you can't get to half of it,

not without tramping for miles.

But with this little beauty,

it can take you there. Problem solved.

You're taking tourists round, in this thing?

There you go again, pouring cold water on my brilliant ideas.

Your brilliant ideas shouldn't have cold water poured on them.

Most of them should be drowned at birth.

To be brutally frank, I've never heard such a daft idea in my life.

While you're at it, move this thing

before someone thinks the Russians have landed.

There goes a man devoid of any imagination.

Well, you heard him.

Get it shifted up to the cottage.

What, me?

Can't expect me to do it, can you? Not in my state of health.

But...

MUSIC: 'Way To Blue' by Nick Drake

♪ Don't you have a word

♪ To show what may be done?

♪ Have you never heard

♪ The way to find the sun?

♪ Tell me All that you may know ♪

Yeah, I shot the dog. It was worrying my pheasants.

Your pheasants, Mr Langley?

That's right.

I'm sure Ashfordly told you I've hired the sh**t for the season.

I wasn't having them frightened, the day before the sh**t

by some stupid mongrel. - Why not chase off the dog?

What, and run the risk of getting bitten?

That wouldn't have been very bright, Constable.

Only as I understand it,

the owner of the dog was in the vicinity, Mr Langley.

He should have had the sense to keep him on a leash, shouldn't he?

We were told you tried to run him over in your Land Rover

as you were leaving.

Oh, that's absolute nonsense.

Do you have a shotgun certificate?

Yeah, course.

We both do. Would you mind going to get them, my darling?

Of course.

A bad business, Bradley.

If you see Arkwright, tell him how sorry I am about his dog.

Know him well, do you, sir?

No, but he's lived on that cottage on the estate for years.

He's a bit of a recluse, really, and something of a w*r hero, too.

So, he's never given you any trouble?

No. He's a bit of a rough diamond,

but all he's ever done is walk his dog on my land,

and I've no problem with that.

Mr Langley obviously had.

So it would seem.

MUSIC: 'You've Got Your Troubles, I've Got Mine' by The Fortunes

♪ I see that worried look Upon your face

♪ You've got your troubles

♪ I got mine

♪ She's found somebody else to take... ♪

It'll be Dr Summerbee on duty, will it?

It most certainly will, Vernon,

she being the only doctor who works here.

You don't have a locum or anything, perhaps a male locum?

I'm afraid not.

What have you got against female doctors, anyway? Not shy, are we?

No, no. It's just that, on this occasion,

I'd have preferred to be seen by a male, that's all.

What's the problem?

I'd rather discuss it with the doctor, if you don't mind,

it being of a personal nature.

♪ Eighteen, nineteen, twenty years ago

♪ I'm taking Sal to the party, oh!

HONKS HORN

♪ I'm taking Sal to the party, oh!

♪ I wouldn't let her dance but a set or so

♪ Whoa, buck and go by the lamb

♪ Who made your back bend? Some old man

♪ Whoa, buck and go by the lamb

♪ Who made your back bend? Some old man

Hey! Hey!

♪ Me and my gal come walking down the road

♪ The wind from her feet knocking sugar in the gourd

♪ It's a dance

♪ Sugar in the gourd and gourd on the ground

♪ You wanna get your sugar gotta roll it all around ♪

Oh, that's nasty.

You should try sitting on it, doctor.

It's not life's most pleasurable experience, I can tell you.

I'm sure.

Well, I think I'm going to have to refer you to hospital.

- Hospital? - Yeah.

It's in a bit of an awkward place.

It'll need to be drained, of course.

Can't you do that?

Vernon, a boil this size needs special attention.

I'll see if I can get you admitted later today.

In the meantime, I'll get you some painkillers. You can get dressed.

SONG: 'When the Saints Go Marching In'

♪ Well, when the saints go marching in

♪ Yeah, when the saints go marching in

♪ I tell you something, gonna be

♪ Hey, I'm gonna be in that number

♪ Yeah, when the saints go marching in

♪ And when the band goes swingin' in

♪ Yeah, when the band goes swingin' in

♪ I tell you something, gonna be

♪ Hey, I'm gonna be in that number

♪ Yeah, when the band goes swingin' in

Well?

I've spoken to Mr Langley,

and he admits he was the one who shot your dog.

As far as I'm concerned, there wasn't any doubt about it.

He's rented the land for a sh**t tomorrow.

He shot, because your dog was worrying the pheasants.

I wasn't within yards of those pheasants, nor was Jake.

That's your word against his, Mr Arkwright.

Does he admit to trying to run me down?

No. He denies that.

Another lie.

Once again, Mr Arkwright, it's your word against his.

Yeah, and him being stinking rich,

you coppers prefer to take his word against mine.

Not this copper. Anyway, there's nothing we can do,

unless you find a witness to substantiate your story.

At that time in the morning, up there?

Well, what's new, eh?

Mr Arkwright, a word of advice.

Let's not do anything stupid, shall we?

So, did Arkwright ever come in here?

Yeah, regular as clockwork, once upon a time.

He was chucked out just as regularly.

Really?

He was a real hard man in his time, I can tell you.

I never knew a man who could clear a bar as quickly as Saul could,

when he was in the mood, which he usually was,

after a few pints.

Mind you, that's way back, when I was still a copper.

I see.

- He was a real sad case, Saul. - How's that?

Because one day, after we'd locked him up once again

for being drunk and disorderly,

he went home and discovered his wife had had enough.

She'd packed her bags and left,

without so much as a forwarding address.

That was the last he heard of her,

until he heard from her lawyers, that is.

I see.

He was absolutely devoted to her.

Devastated, he was.

So, what happened?

Well, he gave up drink for starters.

He hasn't touched a drop since, as far as I know.

Since his divorce came through, he's been living like a hermit,

up in that cottage, with just his dog for company.

So, how is he going to react to his dog being shot like that?

Well, like I said,

he's a strange one, is Saul. Just keep a close eye on him.

What would old Ashfordly take for this place, do you think?

The Family Seat? He'd never sell.

- I'd say that depends. - On what?

On what sort of financial difficulties he's in.

What makes you think he's in any?

Sylvia, if his Lordship's suddenly started taking in paying guests,

he must be in some sort of financial difficulty.

I suppose I could just about see myself as Lady of the Manor.

To the manor born, darling.

To the manor born.

Oh!

Lord Ashfordly!

Lord Ashfordly! - Mrs Langley.

- Any chance of any tea? - Go through to the Morning Room.

I'll see what I can arrange.

It will be Earl Grey, will it?

What else, Mrs Langley?

Arrested?

- That's right. - What for?

From what I can gather, laying waste to most of Aidensfield.

Bernard, is this some kind of joke?

The police weren't laughing when they carted him off.

He also managed to put one of their patrol cars off the road.

Where is he now?

Clapped in irons, I should imagine, in Ashfordly nick.

So if I was you, I'd get myself down there.

Oh...and if sometime soon,

you could spare the time to shift your t*nk off my lawn.

Or, rather, forecourt.

So Mr Langley's in property, Mrs Langley.

Not a day passes without him snapping up some little trifle.

The way he's going, he'll end up owning half of London.

Really?

You've never thought of putting this place

on the market, I suppose.

Hardly, Mrs Langley. No.

But you're not from London yourself, presumably.

- Barnsley, actually. - Ahh!

I was an actress at the Hippodrome. You might have seen me.

No, I'm afraid not.

No... Of course, we've lived in town for years.

There's nothing quite like London.

As Byron said, if you're sick of London, you must be sick of life.

"Tired of London, tired of life." Yes.

Doctor Johnson, actually.

The time we had at the Garden Party last year...

- The Garden Party? - Buckingham Palace.

Oh, that one.

TELEPHONE RINGS

Would you excuse me?

Ashfordly.

Would you hold the line a moment, please?

It's for Mr Langley. - I'll take it.

I'll leave you to it.

Hello? I'm afraid Mr Langley isn't here at the moment. Can I help?

- So where's the car? - Having the headlight repaired.

- And this other vehicle? - Next to it.

- Not a scratch. - You breathalysed him?

- On the spot, sarge. - And?

- Clean as a whistle. - So where's this lunatic now?

In the interview room, sarge.

Right.

And you are the owner of this vehicle, are you?

Mr Stockwell? - Ah, well, no.

Well, neither of us is as such. - Neither of you?

Yeah. Neither me nor Mr Vernon.

It's not been paid for. - Vernon Scripps, I presume.

It was him that said, "Get it home."

He couldn't leave it outside his brother's funeral parlour,

in case people thought we'd been invaded.

So I-I got it started,

and then like it takes off, and I can't stop it.

What would you and Mr Scripps want with an old army half track?

Well, that's our new business venture.

Trashing villages, you mean?

No.

Tours of the moors, in the back, like.

Really?

You would be driving this vehicle, would you, on these jaunts?

Oh, aye.

When I get the hang of it, you know.

I hear you've got a pheasant sh**t tomorrow.

- That's right. - You'll be looking for beaters.

We can always do with another couple.

Right.

Has he been charged with anything yet or what?

No, not more than separate offences so far,

ranging from forcing a police car off the road

to vandalising a telephone box.

Mr Stockwell, you can go now, but you'll be hearing from us again

when we've completed our enquiries. As of course will you, Mr Scripps.

Me? What am I supposed to have done? I was at the doctors.

As I understand it, you left him in charge of this vehicle.

He patently hadn't a blind idea how to control it.

All I said was "Get it home."

Not "Drive round in it like Aidensfield's answer to Godzilla."

As I said, Mr Scripps, you'll be hearing from us.

Aren't our policemen wonderful?

Good to know we're appreciated, Vernon.

Come on!

Rommel.

Welcome, welcome. It's very good to see you.

Hello! Just go straight in.

Just take the stuff in and put it in the hall.

- You look lovely. - Hello, mate. How are you doing?

Let's take your stuff in. - Will do.

The rest of the party should be along in the next couple of hours.

If we could keep a weather eye open for them.

- Of course. - Yeah.

♪ We will wait at your gate

♪ Hoping like the blind ♪

How long will they keep you in?

Only a couple of days.

You have made a will, have you?

Bernard, I'm having a boil lanced, it's not a brain transplant.

Anaesthetic can be funny stuff, you know.

That's why they only use it when they have to.

I'm only having a local one. You know where that's going.

Oh, well, I suppose it'll be all right.

Any road up, I'd best be off. See you tomorrow.

Hopefully.

Bernard, d'you know, you've really cheered me up.

You should take up hospital visiting professionally.

HE GROANS

MAN WHISTLES

BIRD CRIES

MAN CONTINUES WHISTLING

EXCITED CHATTER

ALL TALK AT ONCE

No, what I love, I just love all this air.

HE COUGHS

No, thanks, love. No.

birds, that's all.

Excuse me a minute.

The geezer in the black cap there. Get rid of him, would you?

Certainly, sir.

Sorry about that. What you been up to?

LAUGHING AND CHATTERING

I'm always late. I say, we're going to be late.

MUSIC: 'This Little Bird' by Marianne Faithfull

WHISTLE BLOWS

MEN SHOUTING

BIRD CRIES

♪ There's a little bird that somebody sends

♪ Down to the earth

♪ To live on the wind

♪ Borne on the wind

♪ And he sleeps on the wind

♪ This little bird

♪ That somebody sends

♪ He's light and fragile

♪ And feathered sky blue

♪ So thin and graceful

♪ The sun shines through

Oh, yeah.

Not the easiest man I've ever met, but he's got quite a good eye.

♪ This little bird that somebody sends

♪ He flies so high

♪ Up in the sky

♪ Out of reach...

MAN: What on earth's going on?

Oliver? Where's all this darn smoke coming from?

g*nsh*t

Oliver! Oliver! He's been shot!

Oliver!

He's been shot! Don't just stand there!

Call an ambulance!

Oh, no.

Get an ambulance!

Ohh! Oliver.

What happened?

Oh, no.

- And who are you? - Reed.

Lord Ashfordly's gamekeeper.

Where is the rest of the sh**ting party?

Back up at the hall. Pretty shaken up.

Bellamy, get over to the hall.

Nobody's to leave until I've had a chance to talk to them.

- Right, sarge. - MIKE: Sarge?

A smoke b*mb.

There's at least another half dozen around the area, wired to go off

by someone who knew what he was doing.

Oliver.

STIFLED CRY

ENGINE STARTS

We have your address and telephone number

if we need to get in touch again. - Does that mean I can go?

It does.

About time too, if you don't mind me saying.

It may be an attempted m*rder here.

Well, I didn't sh**t him.

Then you've nothing to worry about, have you?

Humph!

Is that the last of them?

- Yes, sarge. - So what do you think?

Any one of them could've had it in for Langley.

Business is business, and pretty cut-throat at their level.

KNOCKING AT DOOR

Come in!

Some good news, anyway. I've just had Langley's wife on the phone.

Seems the wound isn't half as serious as it first looked.

Just some pellets to the shoulder.

He should be out in a few days. - Thank heaven for that.

Now, then, Mr Langley.

How about a nice cup of tea?

- Oh, yeah, lovely. - Can you make that two, nurse?

Sister. And how are you feeling, Mr Scripps?

Deeply relieved, now it's all behind me.

Ooh. - Yes, Mr Scripps.

Hello.

Vernon Scripps. Feel free to call me Vernon.

- Oliver Langley. - Ahh!

Not from these parts, Oliver, by the accent.

- No, I live in London, actually. - What you up in Yorkshire for?

Business or pleasure? - Pleasure, principally.

Well, that was the idea.

Only, as you can see, it didn't quite work out like that.

VERNON: Obviously not.

Oliver, darling.

How are you? - Oooh.

- Oh, sorry. - Oh, come on, Sylvia.

Take more than an old shotgun to finish your Oliver off, eh?

HE CHUCKLES

My wife Sylvia.

I gathered as much. Very pleased to meet you, Mrs Langley.

Vernon Scripps. - Oh, yes?

It's about the incident this morning.

- Oh, yeah? - Something's happened,

that might have a bearing...

- Go on. - ..involving Saul Arkwright.

The one whose dog Langley shot.

MUSIC: 'Pretty Flamingo' by Manfred Mann

♪ On our block

♪ All of the guys

♪ Call her flamingo

♪ Cos her hair glows like the sun

♪ And her eyes can light the skies

♪ When she walks

♪ She moves so fine

♪ Like a flamingo

♪ Crimson dress

♪ That clings so tight

♪ She's out of reach

♪ And out of sight ♪

You're by way of being in business for yourself?

- Yeah, investment, mostly. - In London?

No, we operate out of the Channel Islands, mostly.

Oh!

Only I'm something of an entrepreneur myself, you know.

- Really? - Oh, yes.

In fact, my associate and I are on the point of setting up

a potentially lucrative deal at the moment.

- Oh, yeah? - Tours.

Of the Yorkshire Moors. Or rather, the more inaccessible parts of it.

- Oh, I see, yeah. - If it works out,

the plan is to cover the whole of the North.

We must talk it over some time.

Oh! Oh, right!

Ol-lie!

Pinky! Mmmmmm...

Mmmmm. How are you, lovey?

Oh, I'll survive. Good as new and twice as frisky, eh?

I drove over the minute I heard about it.

Whatever happened? - Well, you tell me.

It was like El Alamein when those smoke bombs went off.

- Smoke bombs? - Yeah. That's right.

- You poor thing. It sounds awful! - Yeah...

Oh, er, Pinky Parky.

They broke the mould when they made her, I can tell you!

I'll bet!

Ooooh... Mmmmmm...

Right, well, I'll er... I'll leave you to it.

I'll wander down to the day room.

- Yeah, thanks, Vernon. - PINKY: Oh, Ollie, Ollie, Ollie...

Can I help you, Constable?

Tell me about these for starters.

Would you like to hand over the g*n, Mr Arkwright,

before you get into any more trouble?

Now, there you go again, giving me advice.

So, where's my half-track now?

Well, it's up at the house.

Well, who got it up there for you?

I did. I've got the hang of it now.

There was nothing to it really.

If you, er...don't panic.

Well, just...try and remember that next time you take it out.

So, er... When are you coming home, then?

Well, tomorrow, supposedly.

But between you and me...

I'm on the verge of getting all the financial backing we need

for our little project.

I might have to delay my departure for a bit.

MERTON: Mr Arkwright,

can you tell us what these smoke bombs were doing in your shed?

Perhaps somebody planted 'em.

And why would anyone want to do that?

To set me up.

You know what they are without seeing them.

I was a commando once.

Which perhaps explains why these bombs were so expertly wired up.

Can I offer you more of that advice you so resent, Mr Arkwright?

Feel free.

Don't make the mistake of thinking we're stupid.

All right, so I planted the bombs.

But he shot my dog.

And it was obvious you lot were gonna do nowt about it.

All I wanted to do was to wreck the party

he'd planned for his posh London friends.

I had nothing to do with the sh**ting.

Although you do possess a shotgun.

- Everybody does, in the country. - So it was just a coincidence?

He happened to get shot the minute after these smoke bombs went off?

If I intended to sh**t him

I wouldn't have winged him.

Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm... Bye-bye!

See you.

My brave soldier.

Whoops!

My little bit on the side.

When I'm up North, anyway.

Only, er...

Not a word to the wife. Eh?

Have you charged him, then?

Kept him in overnight for questioning.

Open-and-shut case, I'd say.

- Really? You think so? - Don't you?

It's all too elaborate somehow. I mean, why smoke bombs?

To sh**t someone you want a clear line of fire.

But if you want to make it look like a hunting accident?

Why volunteer to be a beater? Beaters don't carry g*ns.

Better, surely, to keep a low profile

and take him out from some place of concealment?

True. I never thought of that. I must be slipping.

How much is this trip going to cost us, then?

Oh, nothing.

It's like what they call a dry run,

just to, like, advertise the service, like.

- And where would you take us? - Just...round the Moors.

As long as you're sure you can drive the thing, David,

and not go demolishing any more phone boxes.

How about it, then?

- Go on, then! - Yeah!

I just don't feel right, in myself, like.

Hm. Could be a bit of a reaction.

Although I wouldn't have thought that likely.

We'll do a couple of blood tests, see what they turn up.

Thank you.

Mind you, it will mean keeping you in an extra night, I'm afraid.

Oh, well... Into every life...

Now, then, Ollie, as I was saying

about this tourism scheme of mine...

Oh, that. Yeah. Yeah.

- Here you are. Good as new! - Thanks.

I thought I recognised that.

They must be mad!

♪ Wheels on fire

♪ Rolling down the road

♪ Best notify my next of kin

♪ This wheel shall explode!

David! Stop the car! David, please!

BOTH: David!

This confrontation you had with Mr Arkwright

before the sh**t, Mr Reed. What did you say?

- I just told him to clear off. - But why?

You took him on as a beater, after all.

On Mr Langley's orders, My Lord.

After the run-in over the dog Mr Langley shot

he didn't want him near the place.

And did he clear off?

The last I saw of him, before the smoke bombs went off,

he was heading for those trees over there.

Did he carry a firearm?

- If he did, I didn't see it. - Unless he moved like lightning,

there's no way he could have got to the right of Mr Langley

and get a shot off. - I suppose not.

Yet Mr Langley took the hit in his right shoulder.

Right.

So who was standing to his right when this occurred?

Well, now you come to mention it... Good Lord!

Where are they going in that thing?

Stop!

David!

So much for the dry run, eh? David?

So, Ollie, what do you reckon, then?

- I'm sorry? - About coming in with us.

You think I'd be interested in putting money

into a crack-brained scheme like that?

"See the moors from the back of a t*nk!"

HE LAUGHS

I've never heard anything more ridiculous in my whole life!

HE CACKLES

Oh, dear, oh, dear!

Hey! There you are, you naughty boy!

Pinky!

Mmmm... Mmmm...

Ooh, here, you wouldn't fancy taking a quick stroll

down the day room, would you...Vern?

As a matter of fact, I wouldn't, actually...Ol.

In fact I'm very happy where I am, thanks very much.

Why don't we go down to the day room, Ollie?

Yeah, why don't we, eh?

Ooh, lor.

Ooh...yeah...

Ooh, Ollie hurting.

- No! You need to be fit and well. - I know.

I'll be all right.

- Are you sure? - Yeah, yeah...

Where's Mrs Langley at the moment, My Lord?

Gone to hospital to visit her husband.

- I'd better get there. - OK, Bradley.

Would you know where my husband might be at this moment?

Well, Mrs Langley, you could just try the day room.

Where is that?

At the end of the corridor on the right.

Right.

My pleasure!

- PINKY: Oh, I'm sorry, love! - OLIVER: No, it's all right. No...

Sylvia.

Who's this?

- What do you mean? - I know you!

You look as common as you sound! Get off his lap!

- Get off my lap. - What?

SISTER: Constable, please! Quickly!

In the day room!

I know you, you common little bitch!

Right, Madam Langley!

Ladies, ladies...please...

Ladies...

Aw!

- So what else is false? - Cow!

♪ Shake it, baby

♪ Shake it up, baby...

- That's enough! - It's never enough!

No, it's not enough!

Ladies! Mrs Langley, behave!

- That's enough! - You little cow!

MIKE: Mrs Langley!

- PINKY: Ow! Get off me! - MIKE: Mrs Langley!

It was you who shot your husband, wasn't it?

Why would I want to sh**t my own husband?

How about serial adultery?

Or was that fight you had in the hospital because you and his friend

- hated each other's lipstick? - That slut!

She wasn't the first, you know.

Or the hundred and first!

She even had the nerve to ring and ask to speak to him at the hall!

You have to understand, Sergeant,

I only did what I did for love of that man!

This was a crime passionnel.

Quite possibly, Mrs Langley.

But sadly for you, this happens to be Yorkshire and not Montmartre.

You just wait till I get him in court.

I'll take him for every rotten bob he's got!

Yes, and I can think of one or two Sunday newspapers

who may like to hear how he made his millions in the first place.

Is that so, Mrs Langley?

All right, then?

Oh, aye.

Now, then, David, how's my half-track?

Ah, yes... I've been meaning to tell you about that.

Hey, caught you in the act.

Only on medical advice.

Medical advice?

My dentist was appalled to hear I'd had boiled sweets.

PHIL: You promised Mrs V you'd give up.

- And I did. - Alf...

I never said I wouldn't start again.

Mark Twain gave up regularly.

On an average of once a day, he reckoned.

Naughty.

You said he didn't come in here.

I suggested he might drop in.

Somebody wanted to see him. - Who?

Ah! Here he comes.

Listen, the gardener's dog had a litter a while ago and...

Well, you know... I had a word with him...

and I thought you might like one.

Aw!

Yeah, thank you.