"(COW MOOING)" "Knife." "JACK:" "Oi, no!" "Get lost, Dad." "Pete." "JACK:" "Hey, they're our cows." "What do you think you're doing?" "MAN:" "Okay, that's far enough." "JACK:" "You can't do that." "They're ours." "What do you think you're doing?" "Knife!" "Just a minute." "What do you think you're gonna do?" "What do you think you're doing?" "Butcher!" "Great." "And the next." "Any better, mate?" "Afraid not." "Got the shakes and a splitting head." "Temperature and all, eh?" "Hmm." "I think you best get off to the house." "No, really, I'll be..." "Go on now." "Come on." "Thank you." "Here, do you reckon he's caught it?" "Caught what?" "Well, that bloke that came here last week." "The one who came to see Ruth?" "Yeah." "Talking to Arthur, wasn't he?" "So?" "Well, they had sickness." "That's why they wanted Ruth." "Could have passed it on." "Then we best keep the others clear of him just in case." "Okay." "Damn!" "As if we haven't got enough troubles at the moment." "(CHUCKLING) Cheer up." "Well..." "Foot rot, stillborn calves." "Dogs savaging the flock, this damned eternal rain, and now this stupid knitting to try and salvage some hay." "You're getting more like Farmer Giles every day." "A professional worry guts." "I'm a farmer in temperament, perhaps, but not in practice." "LIZZIE:" "Quick, quick!" "Oh, what is it now?" "JOHN:" "Quick, quick!" "They're killing the cows." "You've got to come." "GREG:" "Is this another one of your silly jokes?" "JOHN:" "No, Greg." "Quickly!" "CHARLES:" "Where?" "Where?" "JOHN:" "Up the field." "But who?" "The people at the field." "With a knife." "What people, John?" "What people?" "Well, at least this way we'll know whether the fault lies with my oven or not." "I wonder if it's something to do with the yeast." "Our loaves weren't collapsing like this last year." "It's funny it's just started happening recently." "RUTH:" "Hello." "Ruth." "No, don't come too close." "Why not?" "Just in case I'm still infected." "What with?" "We were terribly worried about you." "PET:" "Ruth?" "Oh, it's just a vigorous strain of flu." "I think." "Just flu?" "We thought, perhaps, you were..." "It's still very nasty, a lot of them went under." "What, they died?" "Yes." "The older ones, the ones with the least resistance." "There were too few left to keep the settlement going." "That bad?" "I brought some of them with me." "Here?" "The younger ones, the..." "So, where are they?" "They're up at the top pasture still." "Come on, girl." "GREG:" "What's going on?" "That's it." "Come on." "Clover bloat, that's what." "This pride cretin herded the young stock onto this fresh clover." "CHARLES:" "Who are you and where are you from?" "That's a good girl." "We came in with Ruth." "So keep your distance." "She said we may be carrying infection." "Come on, girl." "CHARLES:" "Bloat, you say?" "Aye." "Acute flatulence due to a coumarin allergy." "It could have been fatal." "You knifed them?" "Yes." "To puncture the rumen and let out the gas." "They'll heal up in no time." "They don't look too bad." "Bit groggy." "Yes." "Instead of dead." "Clover bloat, Dad." "You know now, don't you?" "Look, there isn't any danger." "All five of them had it earlier on, so there's little chance of them still being infected." "And we've been on the road for two days." "Hmm." "Even so." "No unnecessary risks." "Quite right." "I thought it best to put them all up in the old mill." "Well, until I can be absolutely sure." "Charlie won't like that very much." "Why?" "We're all at panic stations trying to save some hay." "We've been rigging it out as a sort of drying barn." "Well, that won't please Mark Carter, BSc agr." "Who?" "Their leader." "It's just that I get very mad when I see livestock suffering through blind ignorance like that." "Well, in fact, Jack is not our stockman." "No?" "No." "He's supposed to be up here fixing this, and Hubert asked him to keep an eye on them." "Well, that's too bad." "You just never let hungry youngsters onto fresh clover after a cold night." "Yes, of course, you're right." "I'm sorry." "We'll forgive you." "Thank you." "We've got rather a lot to learn." "Yeah." "Okay, let's start with that disaster over there, shall we?" "Damned rain." "We'll have to try and barn-cure it." "How?" "We'll sort of string it up in the middle." "You're kidding." "Short stuff like this?" "What else?" "Well, that's no great problem." "Rake it into heaps." "Seal it off with old plastic sheets." "Come autumn, it'll make fair silage fodder." "You're a genius." "Let's say, an agronomist guru." "Anyway, we can't have you cluttering up our mill with a load of rotting grass, can we?" "What?" "We're unclean." "The bearers of pestilence." "Your Ruth reckons to quarantine us in the mill for a couple of days." "JOHN:" "You don't kick it with your toe." "Yes, you do." "JOHN:" "No, you don't." "That's why the ball goes all over the place." "You kick it like this." "And these five were the only survivors from the whole settlement?" "There were a few others." "Seven or eight." "But they went off to try and join Boult's crowd." "Why was that?" "I don't know." "There was a bit of a generation gap growing, I suppose." "ALAN:" "Ruth!" "Hello, Alan." "Hi." "They told me you were back." "Can you spare a minute?" "Sure." "What's the matter?" "It's Arthur." "Home, sweet home, kids." "The guru's ashram." "No way, Mr Vaughan." "Carter's Castle more like." "Court jester." "I'll make a tour of the estate, squire." "See you later." "You must be Pet, the pig lady." "That's right." "Mark Carter." "I thank you to keep your infectious distance, Mr Carter." "Speaking of infections." "Well, you can still eat it, you know." "Thanks." "Stew it well." "We're not that short of meat." "Please yourself." "Think you can diagnose the trouble?" "Same as the rest." "These?" "Not exactly thriving, are they?" "PET:" "Well..." "MARK:" "They're anaemic, for a start." "Look at the paleness of those droppings." "So they need iron?" "Badly." "And you think that's what killed this one?" "A simple iron deficiency?" "No, it's more like a combination of that, worms and B. coli infection." "Look at them, they're all scouring." "B. coli?" "Or some such gut pathogen." "So, what do I do?" "This is a build up from the drug culture farming." "Before the Death, pigs were all pumped full of antibiotics as a matter of course." "The result?" "They've lost their natural resistance." "So, what you're saying is, these ones really need more antibiotics." "Yeah." "And a good vermicide." "Except we can't afford to use up precious drugs on livestock." "So, what do you suggest?" "Get them all outside." "We tried that." "No good." "You what?" "We nearly lost the whole litter." "They all came out in red blotches and they got fever." "It can't have been any worse than this lot, can it?" "They died." "So did this one." "All right, all right." "But if you want my advice, you'll get them out into some good pasture for... two weeks and then move them to new ground." "And if they start dying again?" "Like I said, there's nothing we can't safely eat as long as it's well cooked." "Urgh." "Meet a vegetarian." "Okay, Pet." "Where's the midden?" "Down there." "Oh, don't tell me, I know." "I ought to stew that up for porridge." "(MARK SNICKERS)" "Nonsense, Arthur." "A couple of days and we'll have you right as springtime." "You'll have to be up soon." "Eh?" "Hay making time." "All those youngsters you brought here..." "And there's your place on the management committee." "And the stores." "Oh, store..." "Leave it, Ruth." "I get the message." "MARK:" "That lot should be spread." "Yeah, well, not if I can help it." "Eh?" "It should be spread on the land for soil fertility." "Yeah, well, there are other uses." "Such as?" "Didn't you ever hear of methane?" "Yeah." "Marsh gas." "A highly combustible hydrocarbon." "Suitable for fuelling an internal combustion engine." "Are you some sort of an engineer?" "Are you some sort of a farmer?" "(SNICKERS) No sweat." "You really looking to that lot for methane?" "Come on, my promifer's out here." "Promifer, what's that?" "Prototype muck into fuel refinery." "Here we are." "I got you some nice hot soup." "(GROANING) I couldn't, Pet." "Are you sure?" "Sorry." "Looks like Mina's got a touch of it now." "She got the shivers this evening." "(GROANING) Sorry." "Oh, come on, Arthur." "You're strong." "You've got nothing to fear from this old flu." "Now, you just have to rest and keep warm." "(MUMBLING INCOHERENTLY)" "(COUGHING)" "Do you think it could be something else?" "Long died out." "But like Paul." "A mutation." "Like myxomatosis." "We're not rabbits, Arthur." "The ones I blame are those people from Mark Carter's settlement." "Sending that man here and spreading the infection." "Damn irresponsible." "Can't get this one off." "I'll do it." "(MAN PLAYING GUITAR)" "Watch it." "Sorry." "Seem like a friendly enough crowd, don't they?" "That Greg Preston's got his head screwed on." "I mean, the mood here." "You know, relaxed." "Yeah, you're right, Sal." "No dreary rules about behaviour." "Rules?" "How'd you mean rules, Mel?" "No juvenile conventions." "This mill's a bit of all right, too, eh?" "Mmm." "Smashing." "They're gonna have to get some rules sorted on the husbandry side." "Shambolic lot." "Husbandry?" "Oh, you sorted out those cows for them, master." "Heifers." "You're as bad as that clod Jack." "Like to see him put down, would you?" "You what?" "Before he can do any more damage." "Look, what is this?" "Their place, that's what." "Not yours." "Theirs." "So?" "I only want to help them along." "Go on, get in there." "Come on." "Get in there." "Give us a hand, then, girl." "What's all this for, then, Hubert?" "Progress." "Sorry?" "Latest order of the high command, all chicks inside." "Yeah, but why?" "But why?" "Some more in the garden." "But hang on, Hubert." "What's it all for?" "From now on, all fowl have got to be kept in the deep litter." "Well, who said?" "Young cock a doodle-doodle, come in with Ruthie." "Mark Carter?" "Yeah." "Flying in the face of nature." "It ain't natural." "Well, we have been losing a lot to the dogs lately." "Not half as many as we'll lose factory farming them like this." "We'll soon see how much he knows." "Well, he has got a university degree." "Oh, has he now?" "Well, he don't know nowt about sheep." "Telling me to move my flock from the river field." "Saying they was all wasting away with flukes and scabs and foot rot and..." "JENNY:" "You must admit there has been a lot lame recently, and I think if Mark Carter says we ought to put them in..." "HUBERT:" "Keep away from there, Lizzie!" "Oi, what are you doing, girl?" "Give me that." "There you are, Mark." "Can't fault that." "Even, weed-free, sturdy." "Aye." "There's a few daisies, but it's a fair looking crop." "From a bag of merchant's stock seed we found." "What variety?" "Um, Mary, Morris, eh..." "Maris Templar." "Eh, when did you sow it?" "Early last month." "Last..." "What's wrong?" "Oh, the waste, is what." "The value of good seed wheat, and you have to throw it away." "That and all your useless work with it." "I don't follow." "Stock grazing." "That's what this lot's fit for now." "Cattle fodder." "Vernalisation." "Have you ever heard that word before?" "It means frosting." "Well, exactly." "We waited till the spring, after the hard frost." "And Maris Templar is a winter wheat." "It has to be frosted." "Frosted in the ground." "It's nature's time clock." "But it's germinated." "Yes, but it'll be blind." "Sterile." "It won't come into ear." "You lot had better learn to eat grass." "You won't get any bread from this lot." "Poor old Mina, too?" "Yeah, I'm afraid so." "And Arthur's right down." "Mind you, he's been off colour for weeks now." "Yeah." "Not surprising, really." "Hmm?" "Well..." "You mean, in the absence of a suitable lady to take his fancy?" "He's not the only one, is he?" "Short on the birds, are you?" "Oh, damn and blast!" "(GREG LAUGHING)" "I'm sorry, love." "I'll go and get some more brine, shall I?" "You better get yourself some more trousers while you're at it." "I think he fancies you." "Oh, really?" "Jack." "Not now, lad." "You promised you'd show me that new kick again." "Not now, lad." "Now I'm busy." "Everyone's always busy." "There's never any time for anything that's really important." "Oh, what do you think of our place?" "What?" "Does it appeal to you?" "Seems okay." "We could certainly do with some young blood." "Charming." "What was it like at your last place?" "Oh, okay." "I hear some of them preferred to go and join John Boult's settlement." "Yes, the older lot." "There had been quite a few split before that, too." "Split?" "Drifted off, deserted." "Why?" "Restless." "Wanted a change." "They unhappy under Mark Carter?" "Wouldn't know." "Yeah, well, he's a bit young to be a leader." "All that responsibility." "Yeah." "Mind you, if we'd had someone like you..." "So, what do we do?" "Are you really asking?" "Aye." "Suppose I draw you up a five-year plan." "Crop rotation, livestock management." "Get you sorted out, eh?" "Suicides?" "Yes, two of them." "Well, living in that big old place, all like on top of each other." "Yeah, we had a similar setup once." "It's not easy." "No." "Well, there's no reason why the five of you shouldn't stay on down at the mill." "Separate, you mean?" "As long as you all muck in on the work schedules." "Sure." "Terrific." "Alan." "Hi." "You seen Ruth anywhere?" "Sorry." "Oh, she's in the kitchen garden, I think." "Why?" "It's..." "It's okay." "I'll get her." "Is it Arthur?" "Yeah." "Excuse me, Melanie." "No, it's not the yeast." "Do you remember last year's harvest?" "All I remember is the rain." "Yes." "And the way the grain was starting to sprout in the stooks before we could thresh it." "Please." "Well, that's why we get this." "It's..." "What's it?" "An enzyme, affecting the starch." "Mark Carter." "Who else?" "He saw me bringing them across the yard." "He would." "Well, it's marvellous." "Now, all we have to do..." "Not content with condemning our pigs and our wheat and our hens and our..." "Now he's trying to teach us how to cook." "(DOOR OPENING)" "Greg, I was just..." "JENNY:" "What's wrong?" "It's Arthur." "JENNY:" "Not..." "Poor old devil." "Oh, no." "Oh, dear God." "RUTH:" "Exactly." "People are scared already." "Panicky." "And this will knock morale right over unless..." "Well, I think we should keep it quiet." "Pretend he isn't dead?" "Mmm." "Just for a while." "At least until Peggy and Mina are past the crisis stage." "Peggy as well now?" "Afraid so." "But..." "Well, we'll tell Charles, of course." "But no one else." "But you may be too late." "RUTH:" "Why?" "You're forgetting Alan." "He knows." "MELANIE:" "Hey." "Are we popular." "You what?" "One of them has died now." "The flu?" "What else?" "Jesus." "That fellow Alan told me." "He thinks that some of them are in a mood to come down here and sort us out." "What?" "No chance." "Hardly blame them if they did." "Not their style, is it?" "Too decent, aren't they?" "Too damned dozy." "Who isn't according to you?" "Fancy some stew, Mel?" "Yeah." "They're a load of old stumblebums." "Oh..." "Sorry, it's..." "Hello." "MARK:" "What are after?" "I've recruited him, Mark." "You've what?" "Carter's commune, right?" "MARK:" "What about the quarantine?" "I've talked to Ruth." "She says you're okay now." "It's been two days." "Do you fancy some stew?" "Oh, yeah." "Ta." "CHARLES:" "He just packed up all his gear and moved in with them." "Yeah, well, so what?" "If he's susceptible to the flu, he'll have caught it from poor old Arthur anyway." "Oh, it's not the quarantine I'm worried about." "What then?" "He is their age group, isn't he?" "Makes sense for him to go down there." "We're supposed to be functioning together as a community." "Not starting a splinter group down at the mill." "Ever hear of the generation gap, old man?" "Exactly." "But according to Ruth, that was the trouble at their last settlement." "Sure, all living on top of each other." "And that young Carter's not..." "What's wrong with him?" "He's a bright lad." "As a farmer, yeah." "But I'm talking about personality." "Exactly, that's my point." "In order to function together as a community of personalities, we have to be integrated, a team." "And you reckon that we're compatible?" "We've got to be!" "But gently." "You try coming the old heavy parent act..." "Greg, I want to avoid a "them and us" situation." "I want to kindle a sense of community, responsibility, roots." "Admit it, they're a pretty disturbed bunch, huh?" "Well, it's understandable." "They're cautious, twitchy, uptight." "So?" "Well, you make them feel cornered, face them with social obligation, they'll just scarper." "I don't see it." "Give them a mill, for Pete's sake." "Let them do their own thing." "They'll come round." "Murderers, that's what they are." "Giving us their diseases." "JENNY:" "Oh, do shut up, Hubert." "So they did." "Well, it's lucky for our heifers that Mark Carter's here now." "Not so lucky for our Arthur." "Our Arthur?" "Since when were you two such mates?" "Bloomin' experts." "Do stop going on about him." "And don't be so greedy." "What gets my goat is telling that kid Lizzie her lamb's got to be chopped." "PET:" "He what?" "JENNY:" "Well, he's absolutely right." "Hubert, you should've castrated it last month with the others." "Her pet?" "Well, it's getting far too big now." "Carter told Lizzie that he..." "Well, someone's got to." "It's cruel just to leave it." "But..." "No, the wrenched thing is far too runty ever to make a good breeding ram anyhow." "Anyway, as I say, he's a blooming factory farmer." "Now listen, you obstinate old man, the more we can learn from Mark Carter, the better." "We were doing all right before." "You believe that, do you?" "PET:" "You're beginning to sound like Charlie." "Mark Carter this, Mark Carter that." "HUBERT:" "Yeah." "With cause." "I hope so." "(PEOPLE CHEERING)" "(MAN PLAYING GUITAR)" "MAN:" "Yes, siree!" "Mmm, go and play downstairs with the others." "May I not worship at your feet, master?" "I thought you fancied that Alan bloke." "Mmm, did you now?" "You lured him down here to join us anyway." "If I fancy anyone, it's that dishy Greg Preston." "(SCOFFS)" "Mel!" "All right, all right." "Just tell me what you're doing, then." "It's a plan." "It's a plan for a total shake-up." "Get some efficiency going, eh?" "They need it." "It's your big weapon, isn't it?" "Sorry?" "Make you feel small, don't they?" "Who?" "Greg and that Charles Vaughan." "You're round the twist." "Am I, Mark?" "Isn't that what this is all about?" "All what?" "You want to knock them." "Show them up, get at them." "Listen, Mel, there's the start of something really good here." "I mean it." "You mustn't blame yourself, you know." "For what happened back there at the other settlement." "You mustn't blame yourself." "(SCOFFS)" "Who said anything about..." "We won't let on." "Don't worry." "It's the same pattern of fatalities they had at the Carter settlement." "Oh, yes?" "The reason I wanted to keep Arthur's death a secret was because if we didn't, all the old people..." "Morning, squire." "Ruth." "Hello." "Well, Mark, how's the plan coming along?" "Oh, it's midnight oil stuff." "Yes?" "Yeah, great." "Let's have a look." "Just for starters." "I'll speak to you later, Charles." "Hmm?" "Yes, yes, yes, all right." "Right, well, let's make a start, shall we?" "What about your curing?" "Oh, oh, priorities." "Where's Jack?" "I asked him to scald out this gut for me ages ago." "You know, he really is the limit." "Pet..." "Does he think I'm going to make skinless sausages?" "He's ill, Pet." "(SIGHING) Not him, too." "I'm afraid so." "Okay, Mark, I don't know what..." "I don't understand this." "You mean no grazing at all?" "Aye." "Well, I can see that the logic of ploughing up the pastures for growing crops." "They're weed free and they're high in soil fertility." "Yes, yes." "Sure, fine, but that means bringing all the livestock into these yards and barns." "Yeah." "Well, that strikes me as absurd." "A cow's got legs, it's got teeth." "It's a mobile mowing machine." "If we yard them here, we have to cut all the fodder and bring it in here, all by hand, instead of them going out there by themselves to graze it." "Also leaving their dung out there instead of us having to cart it out there." "Squire, that is the whole point." "Look, I know I'm being a bit slow, but what is?" "Their dung, for methane farming." "Sorry?" "Greg's gonna want every drop of it we can save him." "Greg, you mean for his promifer?" "Yes." "To produce the methane to power the tractor." "To cultivate, mow, harvest." "To get farming again." "Power, squire." "Oh, dear." "What's wrong?" "It's great." "Oh, yes, yes, yes." "Perhaps, eventually, Greg might succeed..." "The only way we will succeed..." "No, no, Mark, listen, let me finish." "Our plan of survival is geared to self sufficiency." "Well, naturally." "So we never become dependent upon anything that we can't ultimately replace by making it ourselves." "Yeah, I agree." "Well, now, you are suggesting a whole revision of our farming system" "to stockpile the muck which..." "For fuel." "...which we don't even know whether we can harness." "No." "No, Mark." "No, I'm sorry, it's..." "Not now, later perhaps, but..." "Ruth said you had a joint leadership thing going here." "You and Greg together." "Yes." "Perhaps it's time you had a word with your partner." "Build me a nice new dispensary cupboard, Jack." "Oh, yeah." "And a lock to keep out the kids." "(JACK COUGHS)" "Jack." "Yeah, it's Emlyn worries me." "Emlyn?" "Emlyn Hughes, in the cup." "Oh, the Hammers have got a good defence but..." "If Emlyn gets away down the centre there, gets that left foot going..." "Leadership exists to make the decision..." "And you have no right to deny your people progress, efficiency." "You reckon to run this place as a sort of kibbutz democracy, right?" "Roughly." "Right." "Well, call a meeting and we'll put it to them." "Or else?" "Just do it, eh?" "(DOOR BANGING)" "Thanks for your support." "I think he's got a point." "We should gamble everything on the success of that promifer contraption?" "I mean about calling a meeting." "All right, this evening, then." "Well, I've cleared this mess up." "Yeah, let's hope it's worthwhile." "Yeah." "We're to start cutting the river field next." "(ALL PROTESTING)" "Give us a break." "Long overgrown already." "Yeah, that's true." "Didn't take long, did it, mate?" "What?" "For us lot to start carrying your lot." "They try." "You reckon." "They all take it easy now we're here." "How about the rest of the day off then?" "Oh, yeah." "Take a swim." "Fair, innit?" "Listen, you witless mob." "You wanna get with it." "The six of us together, we've got power." "Here he goes." "Muscle power, strength." "And we got to use that power." "We got to show them that we can use it." "That doesn't mean slacking off to swim." "We can really get something going here." "We?" "You mean you." "What, like our last place?" "You know what we had going there, don't you?" "What?" "Aggro-culture." "(ALL LAUGHING)" "Aggro-culture, that's right." "Yeah." "That's the thing about piggies." "You can use up everything except the squeak." "I suppose Mark could be right." "Rubbish." "He's a fraud." "What?" "The other day, he told me that my pigs were a bunch of stunted, wormy cripples and that I had to pen them up outside." "Now in this, he says they have to housed in a piggery." "No, that's just his priority for muck conservation." "Over the pigs' health?" "The point is, Pet, if I challenge him, if I reject this and our lot support me..." "Well, they must." "Perhaps." "What happens then?" "Mark Carter probably storms off in a sulk." "Exactly, and he takes the others with him." "Well, too bad." "Oh, we need them." "Pet, we depend upon them all." "Mark Carter's know-how most of all." "(JACK SINGING SOFTLY)" "# They fly so high" "# Nearly reach the sky" "# Then like my dreams, they..." "# Fortune's always hiding" "# I've looked... #" "(FANS CHANTING)" "FANS: # I'm forever blowing bubbles" "#Pretty bubbles in the air #" "Oh!" "What a goal!" "CHARLES:" "Priorities?" "PET:" "Yes." "All right, so you've made some mistakes." "Ooh, and how." "Winter wheat in spring." "All right." "But efficient farming isn't everything." "My responsibility in this..." "Is firstly as a leader." "All right, so you organise our farming effort, but more important, surely, Charlie, is your concern for us as people." "Grass instead of bread?" "No." "Tolerance and guidance." "It doesn't fill bellies." "But it gives us a sense of togetherness." "Something I bet Mark Carter's lot never had." "Sorry to barge in, but Jack's disappeared." "What?" "His doors are open, he just seems to have wandered off." "Jack?" "He was delirious earlier on." "I thought he was improving." "He's up and down." "I was trying to tell you earlier on." "What?" "About resistance to the bug." "It's just the flu bug, you said." "Yes, except that with all those I've treated, all the fatal cases, they just seem to give up." "What?" "It's as if they didn't want to recover." "Didn't want to?" "Yes." "It's as if it's related in someway to morale." "Do you think that that affects their resistance to infection?" "Look, take me." "Take all of us here." "We're too busy to be sick." "We live healthy, fulfilled lives." "Whereas others like Arthur and Mina..." "So you think that their response, the fatalities at least, that they're sort of psychological?" "Yes." "And I'm sure it stems directly from the Death." "Eighteen months?" "Call it delayed shock, bereavement neurosis, sustained grief." "Even guilt at having survived." "Oh, surely not!" "It tallies, Pet, it tallies exactly with what was known as the "broken heart syndrome"." "Acute depression, neurosis, suicides, minimal resistance to infection, and an abnormally high death rate." "All right, then." "Arthur, yes." "Even Peggy." "But not cheery old Jack or Mina." "You can't tell me those two are demoralised or grieving or whatever." "Well, Mina's not been the same since that chap on the barge died." "People can be pretty subtle at hiding their true emotions." "Not Jack." "No, thank you, Pet." "Well, we better keep looking." "Show us, Jack, how to kick." "You don't kick with the toe, do you?" "Eh, no, you use the, um, the instep because you can control it that way, you see?" "You do it." "Right, give it here." "Um..." "Now you curve the foot round, you see?" "Hey!" "Everyone's looking for you, Jack." "Looking for me?" "Oh, come on, Jack, forget her." "Please, we're wasting time." "You promised you would." "Yeah, look, I'll show you how Emlyn does it, shall I?" "Who's Emlyn?" "Emlyn?" "He's terrific, Emlyn, terrific." "All right." "The fact is I failed with poor old Arthur." "PET:" "Not you." "Yes." "It's what I was talking about yesterday, the need for a sense of community, roots." "And damn it, we've been here a year or more and only one baby born, one!" "Well, these youngsters I've brought with me, maybe they'll help on that side, eh?" "You mean master Carter and co?" "(SCOFFS) All that young man's likely to do is disrupt us." "Oh, Pet." "Well, so he is." "He's intolerant and immature." "That's because he's young." "What you should do at this meeting this evening is take him down a peg or two." "Oh, we best get on." "Hang about, hang about." "There's plenty of time, sit down." "Oh, come on!" "Listen, we can use this meeting..." "SALLY:" "To get you in as boss?" "No, thanks." "To get a management committee going, that's all." "Greg Preston on the mechanisation, me on the farming." "Aggro-culture." "Try Vaughan as the, er, social worker." "Maybe you, Mel, to organise the females." "Oh, big deal." "ALAN:" "He's got your number, Mel?" "Well, what if they don't buy it?" "They'll buy it." "There's too much to lose if they don't." "Oh, aye." "So, the way I see it, this methane farming is going to mean a lot of extra work for us all." "(ALL MURMURING AGREEMENT)" "Hard, tiring, physical work." "Special crops to be grown for the livestock fodder." "All to be cultivated, planted, harvested by hand." "Then to be brought into the yard once again by hand." "So that all the livestock's dung can be conserved." "Factory farming." "Well..." "Some of you might feel that it's a bit premature." "Others might feel that it's a bit ambitious." "That we should only conserve and process the dung from the pigs." "MAN:" "That's a waste." "Well, some of you may feel that it's worth a gamble." "Well, it's your sweat and it's your toil." "That's what you'll be voting on." "Greg?" "All right, Mark." "Thank you, squire." "Of course, I can see that some of the veterans of this settlement are not going to welcome some really hard graft." "ALL:" "Who are you talking about?" "Look, up to now, what have you been at?" "You've been messing about with a bit of hay, veg, trying to mend fences, keeping off the dog packs." "It's little more than shepherding." "It's leisurely old nomad stuff." "Yeah, a blooming nerve you got!" "Now, listen, listen, all I'm saying is that it's time to stop playing at it and start farming." "You've got to make use of science, use it to get on top and not stumble on at the mercy of the weather." "But to farm properly, you've got to have power." "Now then, your genius of an engineer over there reckons he can get that from muck." "HUBERT:" "That's a waste of good pig dung, that is." "It's a matter of simple priorities." "You either muddle on as you have been doing or you get stuck in!" "Now, wait a minute." "You told me the other day that in order to make my pigs healthy," "I had to pen them up outside." "That's right, love, but since then..." "Now, because of this grand muck design, you say I have to bring them inside again." "On the contrary, love." "I checked up on that disease you mentioned, where they came out in blotches, and got fever, died." "It's called erysipelas." "It's picked up from the soil." "So, as it happens, it's better off that we have the pigs inside." "Twister." "Prove anything if you're a so-called expert." "GREG:" "There's just one thing, Mark." "Professor?" "Well, what are you going to do if they reject this plan of yours?" "Reject?" "Yeah." "Well, they'd hardly be that stupid." "GREG:" "But if they do?" "Well, it's good luck to them." "You mean that you'll pull out?" "Yeah." "This lot, too." "You, too, if you've got any sense." "GREG:" "And if they vote in favour of it?" "Well, fine." "Well, what about Charles and his leadership of this settlement?" "Would you, speaking personally, would you still fully accept it?" "Not on the farming side." "Would you tell us why not?" "Come on, Greg, man." "Look at the nonsense he's been making of it." "Winter wheat sown in spring." "Yes, it's a fair point." "It's a serious mistake and we're all going to suffer because of it." "But do you think that Charles, as leader, should be allowed..." "Greg..." "Just a minute, Charles." "Let's get it absolutely clear." "We're going to be voting for you to give up a crucial part of your authority to Mark." "Only on the farming side." "Yeah, well, fair enough." "But you mentioned earlier this business of priorities." "Aye." "Well, what would you rate higher?" "A question of farming efficiency, like this excellent plan of yours, or well, say, a question concerning, well, the morale of a settlement?" "I don't know what the morale has got to do with my five-year plan." "What I meant was that if it came to a straightforward choice," "I mean, if you as the acknowledged farming authority said that we had to harvest a certain crop on a particular day, and Charles said that we ought to postpone it for 24 hours because people were tired, or one or two other things..." "Look, you want to survive." "Now, that means grub enough to see you through the winter." "So, farming efficiency, successful settlement?" "Aye." "Right." "Well, what happened to the settlement you were leading before you came here?" "How does he know about that?" "Yeah, what about it?" "GREG:" "Well, it wasn't successful." "It failed, didn't it?" "Just." "Through an outbreak of flu." "(GREG CHUCKLES)" "Flu had nothing to do with it." "From what I heard, it was failing through a simple case of demoralisation." "(SCOFFS) Never." "Rubbish!" "Well, what about the desertions?" "Yeah, a few useless drop-outs." "And the suicides?" "Well, they just couldn't cope." "Yeah." "You mean they couldn't cope with you and your leadership." "Your intolerance and your contempt for age and inefficiency." "No!" "A settlement's morale reflects the worth of its leadership and by all accounts, yours had none." "All right." "All right, if that's your priority, then vote for him." "It's your funeral!" "You lot, come on." "(INDISTINCT CHATTERING)" "He won't back down for anything." "I know." "You can't tell him anything." "But so what?" "We all coped before Lord Carter honoured us with his presence." "And cheerfully at that." "Carter happened to show us something else, too." "PET:" "What?" "How lucky we are to have Charles Vaughan." "Right." "(ALL CHEERING)" "(LAUGHING) Thank you, one and all." "Donations in the box, please." "However, he's not infallible." "I think this plan of Carter's makes good sense." "In fact, I think it's essential." "I've got every hope for my promifer." "And I'm all for stockpiling as much muck for the monster as we possibly can." "(CLEARS THROAT) Well, Greg's the engineer." "If he has that much confidence, then he can have my vote." "And the sweat that goes with it." "Mark!" "He must be upstairs." "Hey, Mark." "Hey, Mark." "Couldn't you just..." "Couldn't you like, climb down for once, eh?" "Just for once, eh?" "Look..." "Do you have to be on top-lead all the time?" "Listen!" "Who the hell says I want to?" "Well, then." "Well, it's just that, well, they're an okay crowd here." "We reckon on staying, see?" "Great!" "Look, Mark!" "He just said it, didn't he?" "That bloke Greg Preston." "Leading is just not my scene." "I mean, okay." "They're making a screaming nonsense of it all, but who cares?" "It's just that if we pull out, we'll leave them short on muscle." "Oh, you can't do that!" "Of course you can't pull out." "(SCOFFS) It's time you lot got responsible." "Yeah, learned your priorities." "What about you?" "Well, I've got talent, haven't I?" "I've got know-how." "Right..." "It adds up to a duty." "I'm going to rove about." "Sorting out all the other stumbling amateurs around here." "Yes." "You can call me the roving guru, eh?" "Ta-ra." "Mel, do you fancy that idea?" "Terrific." "For you, master." "You really fancy him then, eh?" "Who?" "That old bloke, Greg." "No." "Just my independence." "Well, that's what I'm offering you." "The roving bit, make the whole of the country our place." "No, thanks." "Mel?" "Oh, forget it, Mark." "You going to stay, then?" "Bit late now, isn't it?" "I'll be off first thing in the morning." "Good luck." "I'll call in on you around autumn." "See how the promifer's getting on." "We'll have tractor power by then." "Methane farming in action." "No chance, squire." "What?" "With your priorities, you lot, you'll be sitting back eating grass, playing bingo." "Come on!" "Bingo?" "There's an idea."