All Creatures Great and Small

Tristan Farnon:
[said frequently] You're out of your *mind*, Siegfried!

Mrs. Pumphrey:
[orders Hodgekin to throw rings for her Pekinese, Tricki Woo. He throws one feebly] Oh, a little further than *that*, Hodgekin!

Mrs. Pumphrey:
[he throws it miles] Not into the rose bed, Hodgekin! We wouldn't want Tricki to get pricky-paw!

Hodgekin:
[muttered] Who wouldn't?

Mrs. Pumphrey:
*What* was that? What was that, Hodgekin?

Jimmy Herriot:
What's pregnant?

Helen Herriot:
It means you're going to have a little brother, or perhaps a sister.

Jimmy Herriot:
I'd rather have a dog.

Helen Herriot:
I'm not in the habit of telling lies.

Tristan Farnon:
Oh, it's quite easy.

Siegfried Farnon:
We're not gods James. Just fumbling mechanics most of the time, working with pathetically inadequate tools - on vehicles we've hardly begun to understand.

Tristan Farnon:
You know the way Siegfried seems to think I'm incapable of running my life like a mature adult.

James Herriot:
Well, does he?

Tristan Farnon:
Well, you know he does. Well, anyway, this time he's gone too far. He's trying to pair me off with the daughter of one of his hunting cronies. A really dreaful girl.

James Herriot:
Who is it?

Tristan Farnon:
Her name's Dierdre.

James Herriot:
Not the one whose coming out we're all going to?

Tristan Farnon:
Mmm-hmm.

James Herriot:
Oh, well, I hope you'll both be very happy together.

Tristan Farnon:
It's no joke, James. I need your help. I can't...

Tristan Farnon:
[holding letter] Tristan Farnon, M.R.C.V.S.

Siegfried Farnon:
Never!

Tristan Farnon:
Don't take my word for it.

Siegfried Farnon:
Now I know we shall win the war.

Tristan Farnon:
What?

Siegfried Farnon:
The age of miracles is not past.

Siegfried Farnon:
[singing] Oh, what are you having for dinner, Mrs. Bond? There's a goose in the larder and ducks in the pond...

Siegfried Farnon:
You gave them all the injection, did you James?

James Herriot:
For what it's worth.

Siegfried Farnon:
Oh, the books speak very well of it. Chloroform to stupefy the worms, turpentine to kill them, creosote to cause the cough that expels them.

James Herriot:
You're on with all that?

Siegfried Farnon:
Not for one moment. No, I think that any good effects that have been achieved have been the result of getting the cattle off the infected pasture in time. Still, it always impresses the farmers very greatly.

Siegfried Farnon:
It's an occupational hazard, James. one of the grayer aspects of our profession. None of us enjoys it very much. But... the last thing that a funny little creature like Theo feels is the touch of a human hand, and the last thing he hears is the gentleness of a human voice. It-It's the best we can manage.

James:
Hello, Mrs. Pumphery.

Mrs. Pumphrey:
Oh, Mr. Herriot, thank heavens you've come.

James:
Flop-bot again?

Mrs. Pumphrey:
Tricki's rear end simply refuses to relinquish contact with the ground.

James:
Ah, same problem. And the same cause I expect.

Mrs. Pumphrey:
Well, I'm sure I haven't been neglectful. He's exercised regularly. Hodgekin takes him for a turn round the garden at least three times a day.

James:
Like that, you mean? [looking towards gardener with dog in his arms]

Mrs. Pumphrey:
Well... yes.

James:
It won't do Mrs. Pumphrey. If Tricki-Woo is to benefit he must be allowed to walk on his own legs. Hmm?

Mr. Wiggins:
Well, hello there. pardner.

Tristan Farnon:
Hello, Mr. Wiggins, how are you?

Mr. Wiggins:
[chuckles] Well, Can't grumble, tha knows? Doing pretty well theeself, I'd say, from the look of that err... pretty little filly you got in tow.

Tristan Farnon:
Excuse me.

Mr. Wiggins:
Surely, boy, surely. [chuckles]

Tristan Farnon:
Hell's bells.

Alice McTavish:
What's the matter? Who's he?

Tristan Farnon:
Mr. Wiggins; known locally as Wiggins of the Wild West.

Alice McTavish:
Is he American?

Tristan Farnon:
No, Yorkshire as pudding.

Alice McTavish:
Why does he talk like that?

Tristan Farnon:
His story is that he once worked on a ranch in Texas. If you ask me, he got it all from watching Westerns. Must be one on tonight or he wouldn't be here. Never watches anything else.

Mr. Wiggins:
Oh, excuse me , pardner. Thank you.

Mr. Horner:
Was I on the seven o'clock news, mother?

Mrs. Horner:
I didn't have it on.

Mr. Horner:
Oh... d'yas think there's gonna be a war on, Mr. Herriot?

James Herriot:
Well... let's hope not, eh, Mr. Horner.

Mr. Horner:
It'll take more than hope, lad, the way things are looking. I doubt we'll be as lucky up here as we were in Lowestoft. We never went short of food then , not like in towns. But, uh, if we have it again; it'll be waste not, want not.

Mrs. Horner:
It'll be waste not, want not any road; war or not.

Mr. Horner:
And what about this new car tax?

James Herriot:
Yeah, it's a bit nasty, that.

Mr. Horner:
Up to twenty-five bob! And there's a rumor income tax is going up seven and six on the pound. Who's gonna be able to pay that? Sinful, that's what it is! They brought in tax in the last war, saying they'd get rid of it when it t'were over. Twenty years later, we've still got it... with knobs on.

Daphne:
Can we move somewhere else? He's giving me the creeps.

Tristan Farnon:
That's Kit Bilton. He's having a lovely time.

Daphne:
He's crying his eyes out!

Tristan Farnon:
Must have killed a pig.

Daphne:
What?

Tristan Farnon:
He's killed a pig.

Daphne:
Well, if it upsets him that much, why does he do it?

Tristan Farnon:
It's cheaper than butcher's meat! A lot of people do it in Darrowby. They keep a pig and fatten it up on the leavings. We even had a go, until fate took a hand.

Kit Bilton:
[sniffling] Snnnfff.

Tristan Farnon:
Never mind Mr. Bilton, It's in a good cause.

Kit Bilton:
He were a Christian, he were. A Christian! And I... and now they're cutting' him up and cookin' him. They're cutting' my Wilf up and cookin' him!

Daphne:
Oh, I say!

Kit Bilton:
I just can't watch. I can't do it.

Tristan Farnon:
It does you credit, Mr. Bilton.

Kit Bilton:
He turned and he looked at... [sobbing] Them little eyes, full of love and trust. He turned and her looked at me... He knew. I know he knew!

Tristan Farnon:
Of course he knew, Mr. Bilton.

Kit Bilton:
[sputters] No!

Tristan Farnon:
But what did he know? That's the point. It's my solemn opinion that he always knew. Porcine destiny, that's what it is Mr. Bilton. He knew, as his fathers before him knew, that he was destined for your table, to feed your family, to live on... in you.

Kit Bilton:
Oh!

Daphne:
Stop it! You're being wicked.

Tristan Farnon:
I'm offering a fellow human being a crumb of comfort. Have you got any sensitivity?

Kit Bilton:
Do you really think they know, Mr. Farnon? You really believe that?

Tristan Farnon:
I'm convinced of it.

Kit Bilton:
Oh, but that look in them little piggy eyes...

Tristan Farnon:
It's the breeding, you see?

Kit Bilton:
Breeding?

Tristan Farnon:
Mmmmm. It... it's bred into them, a sort of, uh, racial memory. The look in those little eyes wasn't one of reproach.

Kit Bilton:
Oh, if only I could believe that.

Tristan Farnon:
Then why don't you?

Kit Bilton:
I loved that pig. He were a friend. More, he were one of the family. [sobbing] I felt more for that pig than anybody in here! Oh, and when I say that Mr. Farnon, I hope you'll understand.

Tristan Farnon:
I do, Mr. Bilton, I do and... and... and so did your friend.

Kit Bilton:
Aye, do you reckon?

Tristan Farnon:
I reckon! You said yourself, he was a Christian.

Kit Bilton:
Mmm.

Tristan Farnon:
He was merely turning the other cheek.

Daphne:
[snorting with suppressed laughter] Snorf!

Tristan Farnon:
Believe me, Mr. Bilton, greater love hath no pig.

Kit Bilton:
[laughing] Tahahah!

Kit Bilton:
Well, then there's the wife. I mean, that doesn't help matters.

Tristan Farnon:
Well, she'll soon be over it.

Kit Bilton:
Well, there's naught for her to be over! She's up there with my two lasses cutting' him up and cookin' him! Happy as the day is long! I can't bear to watch it. She's got no heart, no feelings...

Tristan Farnon:
Yes, well, you have to make allowances. Women are different. They're, uh, more primitive.

Daphne:
Oh, thanks!

Tristan Farnon:
It's in their very nature, you see. It's basic, fundamental; the, huh... earth mother. Instinctive provider. They can't afford to think about what they're doing to a poor little pig.

Kit Bilton:
[sobbing] Oh!

Tristan Farnon:
When there are other pigs... and mouths to be fed. Their feelings have been directed elsewhere. Directed by generation after generation, listening to their mothers. What do they hear down the centuries as they cut up chops and serve the intestines? 'Feed the brute! The way to a man's heart is through his stomach!' What chance have they? Even the Queen of Hearts made tarts.

Kit Bilton:
By God, Mr. Farnon, I... I... I hadn't thought of it like that!

Tristan Farnon:
Think on Mr. Bilton. Think on.

Tristan Farnon:
If you think Mrs. Herriott is a lady, you should try and play her at backgammon.

James Herriot:
Hello, Mrs. Hall. Sounds like a very full surgery.

Helen:
Oh, just the Dimmock family.

James Herriot:
Oh, not again. How many of them this time?

Helen:
The entire brood, and Mr. Dimmock.

James Herriot:
They aren't a family they're more like a nation.

Mrs. Hall:
Aye, and from the look of Mrs. Dimmock from the side they're about to increase and multiply even further.

James Herriot:
Oh, this is the third time they've been back this month.

Helen:
They've adopted you.

James Herriot:
Yes, obviously.

Helen:
Well, they wouldn't come quite so often if you if you ever got around to charging them anything.

James Herriot:
Well, he always asks me to send him the bill.

Helen:
But you never do.

James Herriot:
Well, they haven't got any money, love. And if I do, well; they might stop coming.

Mrs. Hall:
He's never done a days work in his life, hasn't that Mr. Dimmock.

James Herriot:
He has learnt the art of gracious living, Mrs. Hall.

Mrs. Hall:
At our expense.

James Herriot:
He's got a bad back.

Mrs. Hall:
Huh! All I can say is; he never got it to work! How he gets his time over, I don't know.

Helen:
Oh, he always manages to make it look as if he's on his way to somewhere important.

Mrs. Hall:
Mostly, the vault of the Dog & Duck for a game of dominoes.

James Herriot:
Well, I like him Mrs. Hall.

Mrs. Hall:
Oh, yes, everybody likes him. You have to like him. That doesn't mean I have to approve of him, does it?

Siegfried Farnon:
Can I ask you a very frank question?

James Herriot:
Can I stop you?

"Save your breath to cool your porridge"

Siegfried Farnon to Tristan