Danny the Champion of the World Page #2

Some garage owners

top up with low-grade fuel

in their high-grade tanks.

Make a bit more cash. It's an old dodge.

Right, sir, we've finished.

If you'd just like to sign here.

- Got a blitz on, have you?

- Just routine, sir.

No, it's not. A couple of your chaps

were here two weeks ago.

I don't know anything about that, sir.

Tell Mr Victor Hazell from me

he's wasting his time.

I don't know what you're talking

about, sir. Afternoon.

How was the first day back, Dan?

All right. There's a horrible new

master called Captain Lancaster.

Dad, did they really come

because of Mr Hazell?

No doubt about it.

I don't expect they'll be the last.

(Man's voice on phone)

Of course he knew it was a put-up job.

That was the idea.

You let me worry about that.

Bye.

(Rings)

- (Woman) Town Hall.

- Is Councillor Mitchell there, please?

- Putting you through.

- (Man) 489.

Stan! There's something

I'd like you to do for me.

(Birds squawk)

Dad?

Dad?

Dad?

Dad?

(Sign creaks)

Dad? Where are you?

(William) Danny?

- Dad!

- Danny, what are you doing?

Where have you been? I thought

something terrible had happened.

Oh, sweetheart.

I'm sorry, Danny. I was wrong.

I shouldn't have done it. I didn't

think you'd wake up. You never do.

Done what, Dad?

Where have you been?

- I've been up to Hazell's woods.

- But that's miles! Why?

Why?

Do you know what poaching is?

You mean... catching things?

Well... It's rather more than that.

It's going out to the woods at night

and coming home

with a nice fat pheasant for the pot.

- But that's stealing.

- What?

- (Laughs) No, it's not.

- But it is!

How would you like a midnight feast?

And I will explain to you

the mysterious art of poaching.

(Sizzling)

Well, now, once upon a time...

Dad!

Do you want your sausages?

Then listen to your old dad.

Once upon a time, people who lived

in the country were very poor.

Some of them were starving

and they were so poor

that they had to poach

their own food in order to survive.

But that was ages ago.

No, not so long ago.

In your grandfather's day.

And then, when things got better,

people continued poaching because...

Well, because...it's one of the most

exciting, difficult sports there is.

The pheasants belong to somebody,

don't they?

Ah, well, yes, strictly speaking.

Legally, they belong to the person

whose land they're on at the time.

That's never bothered anyone

round here.

Not until Mr Smarty-Pants Hazell

came and bought up all the land.

Tea, sir. It's hot.

I hate organised shoots like Hazell's!

- Why?

- They're unnatural. Against nature.

Do you know why he's got so many

pheasants? He buys them as chicks.

He puts them in pens and the keepers

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