14x21 - Rustlers And Hustlers

[bunniefuu]

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why does you miss when my baby kisses me

♪ Heartbeat

♪ Why does a love kiss stay in my memory

PEOPLE LAUGH

PEOPLE CHATTER

What can I get for you, Sergeant?

At this time of night, Mr Blaketon?

Yeah, it's only just gone time, Sergeant.

It went time five minutes ago, young lady, according to my watch.

Well, I can only assume that our clock must be slow, then.

And how often did you hear that when you were a copper?

Only, most of the landlords I know, the responsible ones at any rate,

keep their clocks five minutes fast

in order to avoid embarrassing little moments like this.

Are you going to do us for it, then?

Not this time.

Just make sure there isn't a next time, eh?

Well, Bellamy, you have my deepest sympathy.

Having to work under that overbearing,

- officious, pompous prat. - It isn't easy, Oscar. Believe me.

I'm sure it isn't.

I don't know what's happening to the modern police force these days,

I really don't.

It breaks my heart.

Having said that, mind you, he does in many ways

remind me of a certain sergeant we both used to work under

once upon a time.

- I wonder who that would be. - I wonder.

BIRDS SING

There's Blaze.

GIRL: You don't know his name's Blaze.

It's what I call him, anyway. And I'm going to ride him today.

No, Pattie. You mustn't. Pattie, wait!

Pattie!

MUSIC: 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' by Cream

♪ And the colours of the sea

♪ Bind your eyes with trembling mermaids

♪ And you touch the distant beaches

♪ With tales of brave Ulysses how his naked ears were tortured... ♪

Pattie, look.

- g*nsh*t - GIRLS YELL

Pattie! Pattie! Pattie!

PATTIE YELLS

HORSE WHINNIES

Pattie!

Pattie!

♪ And when your fingers find her

♪ She drowns you in her body

♪ Carving deep blue ripples in the tissues of your mind... ♪

TYRES SCREECH

Please, mister. It's my sister.

- I think she's dead. - What? Show me.

- Easy now. - Is Blaze all right?

Blaze?

- The pony. I said not to ride him. - Never mind about the pony.

- Are you all right? - My shoulder hurts.

Your shoulder.

- OK, nothing else? - I don't think so.

Right, can you wait here for me?

- I'm going to call for assistance. - But what about Blaze?

- Your pony, is it? - No. We just found him.

Right. Well, don't worry about Blaze. He's not going anywhere.

I'll get somebody to pick him up as well. Back in a tick.

ROB: In you go.

- Dr Trent. - Constable.

This is Pattie and Sheila.

- Pattie here's had a nasty fall. - Oh, dear.

- Where does it hurt? - My shoulder.

- Have you alerted the parents? - Their mum's on the way.

Is it all right if I use the phone, call the RSPCA?

Course. Now then, let's have a look at this shoulder, shall we?

Phone.

- There you go, Peg. - Well, that's me. I'm off, then.

Have a good time. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

- That gives me plenty of scope. - Hey, cheeky.

- See you at the weekend. - Ta-ra.

- Where's he off to, then? - Golfing trip to Scotland

for a week.

- Ooh, can't be bad. - Mm.

I played golf once.

And where was that, David, Royal Birkdale or St Andrews?

It was Blackpool. I lost my ball.

That can happen to anybody playing golf, David.

Yeah, not crazy golf, though.

It got stuck down one of those tunnels.

The owner got really cross with me.

And I got my club stuck as well trying to wiggle it out.

PEGGY: Just think, though, Gina,

but for that early setback

we might have had another Tony Jacklin on our hands.

Oh, incidentally. Um, I believe you rent out

that upstairs room for functions. - Yeah, we do.

Only, you see, when I lived in Filey I used to work at the holiday camp,

and I had a lot of mates among the Redcoats.

Did you?

Yeah, and every so often we have this little reunion, like,

only to play whist and that.

And I was wondering if we could use that room upstairs.

Course, I know you'll be short-handed

with Mr Blaketon being away,

but we wouldn't be any trouble, and, er...

I'm sure David would volunteer to wait on, wouldn't you?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.

I can't see there being a problem.

Right, would Wednesday night be all right, then?

Yeah, fine.

What can I get you?

I didn't know that you worked at Filey holiday camp, Auntie Peggy.

There's many things you don't know about me, David.

And many things you're better off not knowing.

All right, thanks, Mr Snape. I'll call round later,

make sure you've found him OK. Bye.

So, will she live?

I think she'll just about make it.

Not really to be recommended, though, Pattie,

riding a strange pony. Especially without a saddle.

He would never have bolted if that man hadn't shot at us.

- A man shot at you? - Yeah, with a shotgun.

- That's what spooked him. - SHEILA: Not actually at us,

- just into the air. - Hm.

Right. Sit there and wait for your mum, and we'll deal with that later.

How are you today?

Fine. You?

Yeah, fine. Good. Good.

Can I see you tonight?

I can't make it tonight, I'm afraid. I've got a meeting at the hospital.

Tomorrow, then?

- Tomorrow night would be fine. Yes. - Good.

In fact, why don't you come round here...about eight-ish, say?

Eight.

KNOCK AT DOOR

I'm Mrs Reilly, their mother. Whatever's happened, doctor?

Oh, nothing to be alarmed about, Mrs Reilly.

Why don't you come in?

Thank you, Constable.

All part of the service, Doctor.

- You have to put one in the box. - Yeah.

Three left. One goes in this file. And the other...

BELL RINGS

- My name's Jowett, Mrs. - Yes, madam. How can I help you?

- I'd like to talk to a constable. - I'm a constable.

I mean a proper constable.

Some sort of problem is there, Mrs Jowett?

I'd like to report a smell.

And... which smell would that be?

The smell from the place at the end of my road.

Right. And what sort of smell is this... smell?

Well, horrible. And there's the noise.

- Noise? - Of lorries,

coming and going at all times of the day and night.

- This is happening near your house? - Just down the road, I told you.

The point being, madam, that smells aren't a police matter,

they're a civic one.

Yes. I'm well aware of that. But I thought...

So the people that you need to talk to

are down the town hall. - Thank you very much, Sergeant.

Of course, if it was Lord Muck out at Ashfordly Hall having trouble

I'm sure you'd be out there like a shot, wouldn't you?

What does she mean, "A proper constable"?

Probably one that's started shaving, I should think.

You had no problem in finding him, then?

No. Right where you said he'd be.

Is there anywhere in the area he's likely to have strayed from?

You could try Heatherlands, I suppose.

- Heatherlands? - A sanctuary for retired horses.

Run by a chap called, er... Hornby, Ned Hornby.

Not far from where I collected him, actually.

Thanks, Mr Snape. If anybody comes to claim him...

You'll be the first to hear.

Right.

P, Q, R.

Ringer. Gotcha.

Ringer!

Yeah, it's me.

Listen, I've found us a venue for that little reunion

we talked about.

Yeah. Wednesday night at the Aidensfield Arms.

You'll tell all the others, will you? Good.

Eh, tell 'em not to forget to bring their wallets with 'em.

They're going to need 'em.

(LAUGHS) See you there, then.

- Mr Hornby? - That's me.

- PC Walker, Aidensfield Police. - Yes, Constable?

A pony was found near here earlier today.

- Not one of yours, is it? - What sort of pony?

A chestnut. About three years old, four white socks,

and a white blaze on its face. - No.

All mine are ready for the knacker's yard, apart from a couple.

Besides, my poor old things wouldn't have the energy to wander.

- Or the inclination. - The children who found it

also claim somebody fired a shotgun. - What, at them?

Not at them, but still a bit of a fright.

- I'll bet. Nobody was hurt, I hope. - Fortunately not.

Thank God for that, anyway.

Well, look. If you do hear of anyone

who's lost a horse answering the description, give me a bell.

I most certainly will.

Oh! What can I get you, gentlemen?

We've come to see Mrs Armstrong. Peg Armstrong.

Oh. You'll be the Redcoats, then?

The what?

Her friends from the holiday camp.

- Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah. - There you are!

- Ringer. - Peg.

- So the g*ng's all here, is it? - Aye, just about.

Well, in that case, this way, lads. Straight through and up the stairs.

I'll send David down with an order when I know what they're having.

- I'll come up while we're quiet. - No. No, that won't be necessary.

No, David'll see to it.

- Who are they when they're at home? - Friends of Peggy Armstrong's.

Redcoats she knew from when she lived at Filey... so she says.

PHONE RINGS

Aidensfield Police.

Phil.

Are they sure it's their pony?

Oh, that is good news.

Have you let the RSPCA know?

OK. No problem. I'll pop round there in the morning

and let them know somebody will be round to collect it.

All right. Cheers, mate.

KNOCK AT DOOR

I don't believe it.

Ah. They've still not done anything about it.

- Er... I'm sorry? - The smell.

- The smell? - I'm not gaga, you know.

- Sorry. It's, um... - Jowett, Mrs.

Only I was just on my way out, so, er...

Still, you'd better come in.

Right, gentlemen.

♪ Well, it's almost like being in love

♪ There's a smile on my face for the whole human race

♪ Well, it's almost like being in love

♪ There's a smile on my face... ♪

David. Be a good lad, will you...

and get us another round in.

You're not playing whist, Aunt Peggy. That... That's poker.

Ooh. Very observant of you, David.

Mr Blaketon wouldn't be pleased, that's all.

Yeah, but Mr Blaketon's not going to know, is he?

Not unless somebody tells him. And I won't,

if you won't.

Besides, he isn't here, is he?

In fact, at this moment,

he's probably propping up some golf club bar somewhere.

And paying twice as much as he should be for a glass of whisky.

So, off you go, then. There's a good lad. Go on.

It really is the most terrible stench.

All right, Mrs Jowett.

If you leave that with me for now. I really am running late.

I'll get onto it first thing in the morning,

if that's all right with you.

Well, I suppose it'll have to be, won't it?

HE SIGHS

- There you go, David. - Thanks, Gina.

Oscar, what are you doing back?

Some idiot left a rake in a bunker. I didn't see it, and tripped over.

Oh, that's awful.

It was pouring down, so I've not miss much. What's going on upstairs?

That's the , dollar question, Oscar.

- Eh? - We've got a party in.

- A reunion of old Redcoats. - Redcoats?

Butlins Redcoats.

Friends of Peggy Armstrong's from her days at the Filey holiday camp.

If they're Redcoats, Billy Butlin must be desperate for staff.

I reckon that I recognise one of them as a friend of ours.

Do you remember Ringer Rednapp?

We did him for fixing races at Ashfordly dog track.

Oh, yeah.

His speciality, if I remember, was tarring the paws of the favourite

to make it go a bit slower. - That's him.

You're not telling me he's upstairs?

Well, if it's not him, it's his twin.

Really?

All right. I'll see you.

What with, a beer mat?

You'll take my marker, won't you?

PEGGY SIGHS Oh, go on, then.

Two pair.

Full house.

- PEGGY GASPS - Oh, no!

Aces... and... aces.

LAUGHTER

Well, well, well.

If it isn't the local chapter of the Darktown Poker Club.

Mr Blaketon, you're in Scotland.

Or so you thought, obviously, David.

Right, you've got two minutes to finish your drinks

and get out of my pub!

The time starts... now.

MILLER: No harm in keeping a close eye, Bellamy.

BELLAMY: No, Sarge.

Give this lot an inch and they'll take a mile. I've seen it.

You'd think that a retired sergeant would have more regard for the law.

Heaven knows how he managed to run a police station.

Right, you lot. Get back inside. Now.

- Wh... - Come on. In. Back.

Now stay in here till I tell you otherwise. Right?

- There you go. - Everything under control, Gina?

Oh, yes, Sergeant. We're very quiet tonight.

Ah, Blaketon.

- I heard you were off golfing. - Well, I was.

But as you can see, I've had an accident.

- Nothing too serious, I trust. - No, no, no.

Just a small sprain. That's why I came home early.

Very wise. After all, I suppose a golfer with a sprained wrist

is about as useful as a one-legged clog dancer.

HE LAUGHS Just a social call, is it, Sergeant?

We were passing by. Thought we'd pop in

and make sure you were all behaving yourselves.

Well, it's very nice of you to keep an eye on the place.

It's what we're here for.

Right. See you again.

- Soon, I expect. - Always a pleasure to see you.

- You know that. - QUIETLY: Sorry.

Is there a problem, then?

Just get your friends out of here, fast. And as for you two,

you can consider yourselves barred from these premises sine die.

Barred sine what?

Die, David. That means forever!

So, get out of my pub. Now!

Sorry I'm late. Got nabbed as I was leaving.

Mrs Jowett...

It's all right.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

So, do you want to go out and get something to eat or...

I've already eaten, actually.

Oh, I see. Oh, well.

I just thought we should talk, really.

Fine.

You see... what happened the other night...

well, it happened. One of those things.

But I think we should leave it at that.

I see.

- Was it something I said or did... - No.

No, nothing like that.

I like you, Rob. A lot.

It's just...

- What? - Well...

I just feel there's too much at stake... for both of us.

If Matthew finds out

he could contest the divorce, cite you as a co-respondent.

What would that do for your career prospects or my position here?

- Look, Helen... - No. You listen, Rob.

We can still be friends... I hope.

But no more than that.

At least not until I get my life back together.

Sorry.

Yeah, so am I.

Poor David. Why did you have to be so harsh, Oscar?

For the record, Gina,

poor David and his auntie from hell could have cost us our licence.

He wasn't playing poker, he was just serving the drinks.

A fat lot of weight that would carry in court.

Frankly, I'm amazed at you, Gina.

Believing her story in the first place.

Yeah, well, that's because I don't have a nasty, suspicious mind

like you have, Oscar, never having been a copper myself.

Just finish the washing up.

QUACKING

I'm sorry, Mrs Jowett. I can't smell a thing.

Well, you wouldn't, would you?

- Why not? - Cos it doesn't smell today.

I see, it doesn't happen all the time, just certain days?

That's right.

Any particular days? Mondays?

No special day. Only on the days when it happens.

Right, this smell. Does it come from any particular direction?

Somewhere up there.

Right.

MOTORBIKE ENGINE RUMBLES

BIRD CAWING

FENCE RATTLES

MUSIC: 'Alfie' by Dionne Warwick

♪ What's it all about? Alfie

♪ Alfie ♪

Oh, for goodness sake, lad. Cheer up.

You're beginning to depress the customers.

even the one lying in the chapel of rest.

It's all right for you. You haven't been banned, have you?

- DOG WHIMPERS - Sine die.

Look, it's just a pub. Somewhere you go for a drink.

Yeah, well it's not just a pub, though, is it?

Not to me, anyroad.

That happens to be...

my local.

Go tell Oscar you were just there to serve drinks, you weren't playing.

- Yeah, I've already done that. - What did he say?

He said it didn't matter.

As far as he was concerned I was an accessories

before and after the fact, whatever that means.

Honestly, Mr Scripps,

I could strangle Aunt Peggy sometimes, I really could.

You could fill Wembley Stadium with people who'd cheerfully do that.

Looking for me?

I just wanted to let you know we've traced the owners of the pony.

Great.

A riding school in Thirsk.

Apparently, there's been quite a few horses nicked

from this part of Yorkshire over the past six months.

Have there? Huh.

Anyway, the owners will round later to collect him.

Right.

By the way, his real name's Reuben, apparently, not Blaze.

I think I prefer Blaze.

Yeah, I think I do too.

Blaze. HE LAUGHS

Well, though I say so myself,

not a bad night's work.

Honestly, playing poker with that lot is like taking toffees off kids.

Now all we need to do is get Ringer to redeem that marker,

and then we'll get a few bottles and celebrate.

Well, come on, then.

- Where are we going? - I've just told you!

To go and see Ringer,

to collect the money he owes me. - Why do you need me to come?

- To provide the muscle, of course. - Muscle?!

Well, in case he proves difficult.

Ah, it's not something I've ever been very good at,

you know, physical v*olence.

I mean, you can get hurt getting involved in stuff like that.

All you've got to do is stay in the truck, put these dark glasses on,

and look menacing. I'll do the talking. Now, come on.

Before he takes off to the Costa del Crime or somewhere with my money.

Yeah, but I...

If the horse has been returned to its owner, that's something.

It still doesn't solve the mystery

of what it was doing there in the first place.

Then the bloke who fired the g*n, if the horse wasn't his why do that?

- Unless it was him that nicked it. - That's what I thought, Sarge.

Were the kids able to describe the bloke?

To be honest, I was more concerned

with getting the injured girl to a doctor.

In that case, have another word. They might just remember something.

Right, Sarge.

Now, remember what I said.

Put your sunglasses on, and look like you were weaned on a pickle.

SEAGULLS CRY

Ah.

- Just leaving were we, Ringer? - Oh, Peg. It's you.

Who were you expecting, Marilyn Monroe?

Yours, if I remember rightly.

And it does,

unless my rheumy old eyes deceive me, say...

that you owe me smackers. - I will pay you, Peg. Honest.

At least we're agreed on that, at any rate.

It's just, I'm having a bit of a liquidity problem at present.

The liquid in question in this case being your blood.

Unless I get my money...

Look. Can you see you see him over there

behind the wheel of my truck? - RINGER: That's David, isn't it?

- The lad who served us drinks. - But...

better known in some circles... as 'The Leg Breaker'.

And not because he bowls for Yorkshire neither.

I mean, you might feel able to terrorise

and take advantage of a poor, defenceless old woman like me

but... I wouldn't like to think what he would do to you

if I let him off the leash.

RINGER: But it's the truth, Peg.

- You cleaned me out last night. - Oh, dear.

Well, you see. Because when he's roused, well, he...

- He's like a mad dog, you know. - Well, erm...

Erm, having said that...

Um, I could pay you in kind, like.

In fact, I could put you in the way of a real little gold mine,

if you're interested.

Go on, then. I'm listening.

Can you remember anything else about the bloke who shot at you?

- Was he old, young, what? - Well...

a bit older than you, I think.

But younger than my mam.

And what was he wearing, can you remember that?

Well...

he had a flat cap on. ROB: That narrows it down.

Can't be many of those in Yorkshire,

men in flat caps. - And a sheepskin jacket.

- A dead expensive one. - Really?

Thanks, girls. If you remember anything else you let me know.

Of course.

- Right. Inside, you two. - Why?

Because you've got a look on your faces, the pair of you

and I want to know why.

DAVID: What, so why... Why didn't you open it, then?

Is it some sort of mobile chip shop?

Just be patient, David.

And soon all will be revealed.

KNOCK AT DOOR

Mrs Reilly.

- Come in. - That won't be necessary.

They have something to tell you that they should have told you,

if they'd not been so frightened after doing what they did.

Well, go on. Tell him what you told me.

Pattie!

Well, it's... It's just...

We didn't really just find the pony like...

- like we said we did. - Oh.

He were in this field with all these other horses, like.

Only she had to show she could ride him, didn't she?

And she opened the gate.

You were the one who left it open!

ROB: Can you show me where this field is?

- Yes. OK. - Right.

Let's go.

So we'll site it over here, right?

So it won't interfere with the normal running of the garage, like.

That's very nice of you. Then what were you planning to do?

Sit on the steps and tell fortunes?

What we'll do, clever clogs,

is we'll hit Mr Blaketon where it hurts most.

Where's that, then?

In the wallet, of course.

Because we'll be offering sandwiches

much cheaper than the ones he's selling across the road, and drinks.

And getting me banned sine die as well, into the process.

Are you a man or a mouse, Bernie Scripps?

None of your business.

This is the field.

PATTIE: But these aren't the horses that were here when we were here.

These are all dead old.

Really? Are you quite sure about that?

Well, yeah.

There. SHE LAUGHS

That should bring 'em in.

I'm sorry. We're not open yet.

And unlikely ever to be if I've anything to do with it.

- Oh, yeah. - You do realise you need a licence?

And needless to say, I'll oppose your application

in court! - Then may the best man win...

as long as it's a woman.

Yes.

PUPPIES WHIMPER

How long's Hornby been taking in old horses, then?

- Oh, about six months. - Does he charge for the service?

I don't think so.

- He must be an animal lover, then. - I suppose he must be.

After all, even old horses need feeding.

There's still vet bills to be paid. He's seriously interested

in keeping the old beggars alive. - Right.

Can I help you?

We'd like to talk to a police officer.

I'm a police officer.

PHIL: So, er, how can we help you?

My name's Costello. Me and my brother here

have a travelling fair that's set up on Axley Common this week.

Oh, yeah?

We'd like to report a theft from there last night.

Of, uh, what exactly?

One of our trailers we use for dispensing

black peas and drinks and the like.

We parked it there last night, and found this morning it had vanished.

Right.

Well, if you could just give my young colleague here

a few more details...

So, can you describe this vehicle, sir?

Of course I can.

It's bright green and has a side that opens into a counter.

Hang on a minute.

Can you see what I see?

So, what are you suggesting?

That Hornby's involved in these horse thefts?

It has to be a possibility, Sarge.

Still, difficult to see if we can take it any further

on the strength of what two kids told you.

They also reckon that on the day it happened

all the other horses in that field were young ones, like Blaze.

But when we called round yesterday they were all on their last legs.

Perhaps he shifts them round. Gives them a change of scenery.

When I talked to Hornby he assured me

the only young horses he has is a couple he rides himself.

So you reckon this sanctuary is a front, perhaps?

The perfect front, I'd say, Sarge.

But why steal horses, anyway? It's a bit risky, isn't it?

If you're nicking 'em for resale

it's a matter of time before somebody recognises one.

Unless you were selling them on the continent, Sarge.

Hornby's place is certainly well situated for that,

being so close to the port. - All right.

Worth a sniff, I suppose.

For starters, get onto the port authority.

Find out if anybody's been shipping horses in number.

If they have,

you might be onto something. - Sarge.

- Nice trailer. - Er, yeah.

In fact, it reminds us of a trailer we used to have.

The resemblance is quite uncanny.

Oh, aye?

Right down to the number plate.

Oh.

Well, now. There's two things we could do here.

We could call the police, let them sort it out.

Or you could just look the other way while we take it.

Right.

And just to show there's no hard feelings,

you can chuck in a free t*nk of petrol as well.

For all the inconvenience you've caused us.

Right. I'll... just, er...

RUNNING FOOTSTEPS

DOORBELL RINGS

You look like somebody

who's come up on the treble chance and forgot to post his coupon.

How did you get on in Whitby?

The only horses they've had through there

have been a couple of show-jumpers.

Ah, well. Can't win them all, eh?

You know, I still think Hornby's got something going on

at that sanctuary of his.

Hornby? That's the name of the bloke who owns that building

you asked me to make enquiries about.

The one who's been bugging our friend Mrs Jowett.

Really? Did you find out what it's used for?

Nobody seems to know.

Some sort of warehouse, they reckon.

Bought the place about seven or eight months ago.

But why does he need a warehouse miles away from his farm?

Especially one that looks more secure than Fort Knox.

- Perhaps you should ask him. - Well, perhaps I will.

MOTORBIKE ENGINE

MUSIC: 'Long Gone Geek' by Procul Harum

♪ Weird goings-on at the county jail

♪ Prisoners reading the sheriffs' mail

♪ He's strapped down to a swivel chair

♪ Trying to swivel right out of there

♪ Pin-striped sweets in cell

♪ Convinced himself it's all a dream

♪ He's got a pet black tabby cat

♪ That carries a g*n and wears a Stetson hat

♪ The door flies open in strides geek

♪ Looking like the front page of Newsweek ♪

DRIPPING

So that's what he's up to.

You mean they just took it, and you just stood there and let 'em?

Well, it was theirs, they reckoned. Anyway, they were bigger than me.

Oh, I'll m*rder that little weasel Ringer next time I bump into him,

and not before I get my pound.

SHE SIGHS Anyway...

probably never would have got a licence,

not with Blaketon opposing it. Here... Here's ten bob.

Go and get us a few bottles in.

Oh, right.

Well, it's not the same, is it, drinking at home.

Well, no.

Not when you're drinking

with somebody with a face as long as that, no.

Then again,

any port in a storm, eh?

- A slaughter house? - Yes, Sarge.

It isn't horses he's been exporting, but horse flesh.

Having first slaughtered and packaged the meat over here,

- there's a big market for it there. - He could be licensed, of course.

Why be so secretive about it, then?

We have to find out when the next shipment's going.

Already in hand, if Mrs Jowett's half as sharp as I think she is.

THE Mrs Jowett?

You've met her, have you?

Our paths have crossed, yes.

Very, erm, formidable lady, don't you think, Sarge?

Oh, probably one of the people who helped build the British Empire,

and then cost us it.

PHONE RINGS

Aidensfield Police.

Well, you took your time.

Mrs Jowett. So, what's going on?

There's lorries, coming and going, and horses.

And that smell again.

Really? All right, Mrs Jowett.

Well, you stay inside and we'll be on our way.

HE SNORES

PHONE RINGS

Hello? Um... Ashfordly Police.

ROB: Geoff, it's Rob here.

Mrs Jowett's just been on the phone. We've got the green light.

Oh, Rob. Erm, right.

I'll, er... I'll round the troops up right away.

Lock the gate.

CAR DOORS SLAM

CAR ENGINE REVS

Can I help you, gentlemen?

Sergeant Miller, Ashfordly Police.

You'll be Mr Hornby, will you? - That's right.

So, is there a problem, Sergeant?

- This is your slaughterhouse? - That's right.

- And you are fully licensed? - But of course.

But the animals you've slaughtered are horses, right?

- Is there a law against that? - That depends, Mr Hornby,

on whether the horses you slaughter are stolen or not.

That's ridiculous. Come on.

MUSIC: 'Freedom Rider' by Traffic

♪ When earth and sky are torn apart

♪ He comes gathering up the bits... ♪

WHINNIES

♪ While hoping that the puzzle fits

♪ He leaves you

♪ Freedom rider

♪ Here it comes ♪

Thanks, Oscar.

So, how are the bruises now?

- Don't ask. Oof! - I'm impressed.

- I didn't know you could ride. - Didn't I tell you?

- I was in the mounted police. - I didn't know that.

Well?

We've come to apologise

for any embarrassment we might have caused you the other night.

Right.

And as a token of our good faith...

I wanted to tell you that I've got rid of that trailer,

and I've abandoned my plans to set up in competition with you.

Very wise.

So, er... does that mean that the ban's lifted, Mr Blaketon?

I'll think about it.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Oscar. Don't be so miserable.

He'll get over it. What you both gonna have?