Really, you would hardly recognise the old place. Sex is rearing its head a bit in Ambridge, where previously people seemed to propogate by pollen. Or, considering the extensive Archer tree, by acorns. I will not dwell on the wildlife camera which caught Will Grundy and Nic in flagrante in the woods. Even the great wild boar of Borchestershire ("Massive it is, and bold as brass!") hardly knew where to look. Women seem to be the driving force in the mating season. (Alice: "I like you hot and sweaty." Chris: "I 'aven't 'ad me dinner yet.") And there is a soft percussion of smacking noises-off, which is almost more disturbing.
If sex is rearing, violence is rampant. Thieves, who put Adam in a coma, are trying to terrorise David Archer into withdrawing his statement against them. Their most inventive effort so far was to stampede a herd of cattle ("Stop the bullocks!") into the visitors on Open Farm Day. "Yippee-yi-ohhh! Yippee-yi-yaay!" as Johnny Cash remarked on a very similar occasion.
Now David himself, as it happens, is very like a bullock. As Kipling remarked: "When he stands like an ox in the furrow, with his sullen-set eyes on your own/ And mutters 'This isn't fair dealing', my son, leave the Saxon alone."
The police suggest moving the whole family to a safe place (believed to be the Olympic stadium, where they will be given a smock and a sheep each and represent Merrie England), but Dave digs his hooves in. Someone called Noah is coming to Ambridge, which, considering the weather, seems appropriate.
Personally, I am suffering withdrawal symptoms from the wonderful An Everyday Story of Afghan Folk, cruelly cut short after one week on Radio 4 Extra. The only real difference between this and any other soap is that, in Afghanistan, when anyone needs a cup of tea, crucial in any crisis, the poor, pretty, pregnant heroine has to go to the well for water. By the time she gets back, life has moved on.
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