God's Own Country

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(WIND WHISTLES)

(HE RETCHES)

(HE VOMITS)

(HE SPITS)

(HE PANTS)

DEIRDRE:
John Saxby!

Dad's been asking for you.

Did you look in on him?

That heifer needs looking at, he said.

You kept us up half the night, lad.

And if you think

I'm cleaning your sick up again

you've got another thing coming.

(CLATTER)

(HE PANTS)

(HE SNIFFS)

It's alright.

- It's alright, lass. It's just me.

- (COW MOOS)

Shh, shh.

Shh, it's alright, lass.

That's it, there, come on.

Come on.

It's alright.

That's it.

It's just your Johnny boy.

Eh?

Not be long now.

A little fat calf. That's what we want, eh?

You're gonna wait

until Johnny boy's back, aren't you?

Good lass.

Come on, that's it.

AUCTIONEER:
80 bid. One? 81. Two? 82.

(BIDDING CONTINUES)

- AUCTIONEER:
89.50.

- (GAVEL BANGS)

M. Saxby & Son now. Good cow here, 700kg.

(BIDDING COMMENCES)

100 bid? Underbid. Call it 99.50.

- Hauxwell.

- (GAVEL BANGS)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

Hold up, mate. Alright?

How's you? Wanna get a pint or summat?

No.

Right. I just...

You know, it were fun an' that.

- I thought we might...

- We?

- Yeah.

- No.

Where've you been? Dad had to see to her.

It were arse about tit.

Bull calf an' all.

You could've saved that.

- I'll get the vet.

- No.

Don't talk wet. Just get on with it.

(GUNSHOT)

Shoulders on it.

- What did you draw for that cull cow?

- 700.

Right.

Maybe next time you'll frame yourself.

I could have been quicker,

hobbling around on these damn things.

- Thank God that lad's on his way.

- Yeah, I could've managed.

- I have done so far.

- Yeah, course you have.

Let's all give you

a round of applause, shall we?

(HE GRUNTS)

Is there any afters?

Might be a tin of fruit cocktail

you can have.

Go easy on that.

I want that lad picking up in good time.

- Why do I have to go?

- Oh, wind your neck in.

- I didn't even want him here, did I?

- He were the only bugger to apply.

Let's at least get him here

in one piece, shall we?

Whatever. It's always down to muggins here.

Oh, enough mardy arse.

You're getting on my wick.

F***'s sake.

(BEEPS HORN)

Do they call thee Georgie or summat?

- Gheorghe.

- Whatever. Get in.

That'll be as much use

as a chocolate fireguard up here.

It's a bit of a midden, like.

That thing unfolds out into like a bed thing.

You can switch that on, but it's

a gas bottle, mind, so don't go mad wi' it.

There's a bog in there.

This looks OK.

- You half-Paki or summat?

- Pardon?

Er, no, I am from Romania.

- Gypsy.

- Please don't call me that.

That door needs a shove.

Don't always close proper.

Me Nan said to say come over and she'll

make you a bap and a brew when you're set.

I told you, didn't I?

Shitehole. Bet you wish

you'd stayed in Romania.

(HE SIGHS)

I hate train journeys, me.

I always end up gipping my guts up.

When were you last on a train?

I'm just saying.

It's 100 odd Swaledale

crossed blackface gimmers.

Do you understand me?

And what about milk?

Just got a few beef cattle,

nowt much to speak of.

No, sorry, the sheep. Do you make cheese?

It's very good cheese, and good money.

DEIRDRE:
Your English is good.

My mother teaches English back in Romania.

Fancy.

We muddle through on our own most of t' time

but wi' lambing and that

our lad needs extra help.

It's perfect for me.

You got somewhere to go after?

Good, cos we just need someone

for the week, lad.

We're not running a charity

for waifs and strays, like.

- Have you pressed my collared shirt, Nan?

- It's hung up in your wardrobe.

If you would but try looking further

than your own backside.

Right. Got any clean socks an' all?

Go easy on the sauce tonight, lad.

I need you to take me

up to Top Fell early tomorrow

show them ewes to this one.

They'll be ripe to drop.

- Do you hear me?

- Aye, I've heard you.

What are you two in cahoots about?

- JOHNNY:
Nowt. Ta.

- MARTIN:
Oi, ignorant!

Why don't you ask him if he fancies a pint?

No, please, it's OK.

I've been travelling a long time.

It's best I will just go to sleep tonight.

MARTIN:

Make sure the immersion's off an' all.

(COUNTRY MUSIC AND CHATTER)

- ROBYN:
Johnny?

- Alright?

Er, get us a pint in, Han.

I'll just be a sec.

- What's up wi' you?

- Nowt.

Well, do you wanna tell your face?

- Is your dad any better?

- No, he's getting on wi' it, you know.

- It must be tough for yous.

- It's a' right.

I thought once you lot escaped to your fancy

colleges and that, you'd never come back.

It's reading week, isn't it?

You know what me mam's like.

Came up with a couple of my uni mates.

Makes it bearable.

Brought 'em to gawp and laugh at the natives?

Get over yourself.

You're not that interesting

as a local tourist attraction.

Got a spare one of them or what?

Come on, you tight wad.

I'm just a poor student.

Come on.

Ta.

We should have a night out.

Bradford or somewhere?

- What?

- That's what I love about folk like you.

You f*** off to your posh colleges an' that

and swan back here on your holidays,

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