["Carousel" performed by Jon Allan]
♪ One, two ♪
♪ Won't you stay with me Till the end of time? ♪
[birds chirping]
♪ Walk with me Till the road unwinds ♪
♪ Hold my hand When the light grows dim ♪
♪ Be my fire When the cold creeps in ♪
♪ When you've fallen down and you're on the floor ♪
♪ And the flood water's coming Through your door ♪
♪ I got a boat So sail away with me ♪
♪ I got a love That's gonna set you free ♪
♪ Round and round the carousel ♪
♪ Up and down we go ♪
♪ And the only fortune I can tell ♪
♪ Is I'm never gonna Let you go ♪
[customers laughing]
♪ I'm never gonna let you go ♪
- You don't drink it with your eyes, mate.
That's a good pint.
Lovely drop.
- How would you describe its flavour and profile?
- Oak-aged, brewed with molasses and a robust malt bill.
- Nothing robust about that.
- No.
That is as dead as a dormouse.
- [man] Door nail.
"I have eat no meat these five days;
"yet, come thou with thy five men,
and I do not leave you all as dead as a door nail."
Shakespeare, Henry the Fourth.
- Yeah.
- I'll take a lager top. - Mm.
- If you want cocktails, I suggest you go over the road
with the rest of the prawn sandwich brigade.
- Your sign outside says you do food.
- Yeah, that's right. Yeah, we do.
What do you want?
Got a drover's cottage pie.
That's what all the drovers used to eat
when they were drovin'.
- Um, two of those, please. - Yep.
Two drover's cottage pies coming up.
- [News Reporter's voice] ...after every British village
town and community,
now 37 pubs every week are calling last orders
and shutting their doors for good.
Campaign For Real Ale
warns that without extended governmental support--
- Bloody mammals. - What's that?
- Middle-aged muppets in lycra
poncing around the countryside in hot pants.
There ought to be a law against it.
- All right. Yeah, Dad,
I'm gonna need your help with these accounts.
I... I can't work out who's been paid, who hasn't.
- Yeah, don't you worry about it, mate.
It's all logged away up here.
Now, if you'd like to put your pinny on,
I need two cottage pies.
Then when you've done that,
you can bring the empty barrels up
from the cellar 'cause the delivery's coming later.
- All right.
If you shove a broomstick up my arse,
I'll sweep the floor as well.
- [Mick] I'll go and get one.
[gentle guitar strumming]
[music fades]
[birds chirping]
- [Cal] Mornin'. - [Taxi Driver] Morning, my love.
Where we off to?
[car door closes] - Drovers Arms, please.
- Where's your limo?
Celebrity like you, thought you'd have a chauffeur.
[seatbelt clicks] - [singing] ♪ I wake up at 3am ♪
♪ So I can feel Your love again ♪
♪ Don't know where you are You're my guiding star... ♪
♪ Aaahhh! ♪
See? Still know all the lyrics!
- Yeah.
- You don't recognise me, do you?
Dawn Higgins?
We played spin the bottle at my 13th birthday.
[exhales] I should have shagged you when I had the chance.
[upbeat music]
- [Dawn] Are you married? - [Cal] No.
- [Dawn] Engaged?
- [Cal] No.
- [Dawn] Dating?
- [Cal] No.
- Hm. The planets have aligned.
Ah, I love a man who's in touch with his feminine side.
How do you identify?
I'm pan***ual.
So, basically means I'm up for it.
Whoever, whenever, wherever.
- Could we pull over?
- Oh, God, yeah.
Thought you'd never ask.
[car rumbling]
[seatbelt clicks]
I love getting down and dirty in a public place.
- How much? - Oh, I don't charge.
I just do it for the thrill of it.
- I mean the fare.
- Oh.
- Here's a tenner.
[coins clank]
- What happened to ***, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, eh?
[gentle music]
[birds chirping]
[bull bellows]
- Shit.
[bull bellows]
Oh, shit!
[playful music] [bull bellowing]
[Cal] Shit.
[bull bellows] Shit!
[Cal] Shit!
[playful music continues]
- [man] Look what the cat's dragged in.
Ed!
Edward!
You'll never guess who I've just seen.
- [woman] Cal Harley.
- How'd you know that?
- My Dawn just texted me.
Picked him up from the station.
Said he was wearing nail varnish.
- What?
- Hm, wonder what he's doing back.
- Probably to bail his father out of the mess he's in.
- Hm. Not much to be said for fame and fortune, is there?
He's a handsome bugger,
but the man looks an absolute mess.
- It's called fashion, Edith.
Loads of rock stars dress like homeless people.
[microwave buzzing]
[microwave pings]
- There you go. Two drover's cottage pies
made to an original family recipe.
[cutlery clanks]
Do you want any sauces with that?
- Anything.
[melancholic music]
[door creaks open]
[faint music on stereo]
[door bangs]
- Hello, Dad.
[punches] [Cal grunts]
[body thumps] [Cal groans]
- I want him gone by the time I get back.
- [Paxman] Same again.
- This place is a madhouse.
- Jake, what's happened here?
The pub was always the life and soul of the village.
Where did everyone go?
- Where did you go more like?
We didn't know whether you were dead
or dancing on a beach in Bali.
- It's complicated.
- You go on the missing list for three years
and "complicated" is all you've got?
You're lucky he only punched you once.
The delivery's here.
Come on.
The least you can do is give me a hand.
[melancholic piano music]
[music intensifies]
- Bloody hell, this takes me back.
Good memories down here with you.
Helping Granddad brew.
- Save the sentimentality for your songs.
[music continues]
[birds chirp]
- I know...
you'd have found a way to forgive him.
I just don't know how.
- Cheers.
How's your mum and dad, then, Harry? All good?
- Oh, yeah, they're good, mate.
Yeah, they're good. Yeah.
They've got a message for you, actually.
They say, um, sod off.
- What's up with him?
- Well, he still blames you for breaking up The Corn Chiefs.
- It was a high-school band.
- Yeah, well, you became famous.
He became a delivery driver.
[beer keg clanks]
[car door bumps]
- [Jake] Well, hang on.
What about our delivery?
- What about your debt?
Boss says no more deliveries
until you put your hand in your pocket.
- How am I supposed to run a pub without any beer?
- We're a business, Jake.
Not a charity.
If you're desperate, you can always call Pritchard.
[car door opens]
[car door slams] [car engine revs]
- What's going on?
- [Jake] It's complicated.
Oh, shit, Romy!
You're gonna have to drive. [keys jingle]
I'm on a ban.
[bouncy music]
- [woman's voice] Romy, your dad's here.
- [Romy] Coming, miss.
- You coming?
- Probably best I stay here.
- What, are you scared she's gonna punch you too?
[car door closes]
- This is a school, Jake.
It's not a creche.
- [Jake] I know. I know. I'm so sorry, Abi.
We've had an absolute shocker at the pub today.
- Is that Uncle Cal?
- Um... yeah.
Why don't you go say hello?
So, how was she today?
- She's a great kid, Jake, and you know I'm fond of her,
but there are 30 other kids in the class
that need my attention, too.
- Wow. Romy, you've grown.
- Be something wrong if I hadn't.
- Look, you don't think, um... that, uh...
you know, there might be something wrong with her?
Up top. [car engine sputters]
- Look, I'm not a doctor, but I think she may have ADHD.
- Come on, every man and their dog says they've got that.
- If you've got ADHD,
trying to focus can be-- - Cal?
- Can be really...
- You're gonna flood it.
[car engine stops]
-...debilitating. [phone pings]
- Right, yeah, and say she has it.
I mean, how would she have got it?
- It's usually genetic.
- Right, yeah.
I'll have to have a think of who that could be.
- Miss, can you give us a jump start?
- So you're still here?
- Still here. Still teaching.
Still happy.
- [Romy in background] They were together?
- That's awesome. - Is it?
I thought this was the place ambition went to die.
- God, did I really say that? - Yeah.
- Look, I... [car door bangs]
I was a ****.
- Little bit.
[car engine revs]
The car isn't going to start itself.
- Right.
- Really?
- Shut up.
[car engine revving]
- Nice one, Abi.
She's got more lives than a Buddhist, this one.
[car horn blares]
- Look who it is.
- Got to admire your attempt to go incognito, Cal.
- Good to see you too, Pritchard.
- Oh, I heard your pumps have run dry.
- No, just in between suppliers.
- Shall I meet you at yours? - Perfect.
See you around, Mr. Tambourine Man.
[sings] You're my guiding star...
[birds chirping]
- [Cal] Is it serious between Abi and Pritchard?
- No idea, mate.
- God knows what she sees in him.
- No, me neither.
You know, apart from inheriting 170 pumps
and running an award-winning brewery.
- Right.
Might be rolling in it, but he's still a prize prick.
Sorry.
- I don't mind.
It's what Grandpa calls you.
- [Jake] At least she's honest.
[dart pin thuds]
[faint groaning]
- [groaning] Oh!
[body thumps]
[door opens]
- [Romy] We're back.
[door bangs]
- Hey, where's my little ray of sunshine?
Mm, how was school?
- Oh, it was okay.
- Yeah?
- We learned about the sea and evolution.
- Oh, yeah?
- Did you know jellyfish have been on this planet
for more than 500 million years,
but they still don't have any brains?
- Oh, well, that should give a bit of hope
to quite a few people in this village.
[Romy chuckles]
[dart pin thuds]
What's he still doing here?
- Well, someone had to drive.
- You've got every reason to be angry, Dad.
I've come home to apologise.
- It's not your home anymore.
- Why don't you grab a packet of crisps and go play outside.
- What kind of son doesn't even come
to his own mother's funeral?
- Dad, now's not the time to be stubborn.
All right, we could do with Cal's financial help.
- I'm broke, Jake.
- Broke?
What about your, um... royalties and--and the Porsche?
- Lotus.
Doesn't matter.
Um... I flogged the car,
cashed in the royalties for a lump sum...
blew the lot.
- On what?
- What do you think?
On the high life and hookers.
- I've got nowhere else to go, Dad.
- Oh, I see. So have you come home to apologise,
or 'cause you need a roof over your head?
You can sleep in the cellar.
I don't want to see hide nor hair of you.
- Siri, what's a hooker?
[Paxman groaning]
- Not again.
- [Paxman] I think I've pulled a bollock.
- I'll get the wheelbarrow.
[playful music]
[wheelbarrow wheels squeaking]
- [Paxman] Okay.
- Come on then, Paxman. [strains]
- Oh, is it a waltz or a tango?
- Just as long as you don't twerk.
- [Paxman] Go on. Out you go.
Clear off.
- All right. Good night.
- Good night. Good night.
- Good night. [clanking and clatters]
- [Paxman] Oh, there goes the other bollock.
["Highland Mary" instrumental music]
- You happy with that?
Pleased with yourselves?
I mean I thought we were doing the "Highland Mary."
That looked like the curly-headed plow boy,
which is what everyone at the Summer Fete
is gonna think by the way.
Jeffrey. - Yes, Jake.
- What's going on, man?
You know what I'm gonna say, don't you?
- Half a beat behind. - [Jake] Half a beat behind.
Yes, half a beat behind.
And what's this?
What's this? Get your hands up!
I don't know what you're smirking at, Christian.
All right, there's absolutely nothing funny about this.
- You know what? You're right.
This is way beyond its sell-by date.
We need to evolve, move with the times,
dance our way into the 21st century.
- No, no, no, no.
This is about preserving age-old traditions, Paxman.
- Just hear me out on this one.
["Daddy Cool" performed by The Milford Disco Ensemble]
♪ She's crazy like a fool ♪
♪ Wild about daddy cool ♪
♪ Daddy, daddy cool ♪
♪ Daddy... ♪
- What the hell was that?
- Disco Morris.
- Disco Morris?
You know, there are generations of Morris men
turning in their graves right now.
- Well, at least they're turning in time unlike you lot.
Ah, Michael, fancy cutting a rug?
- Uh, no, you're all right.
You know what Thomas Beecham said, don't you?
"Try everything in life once,
except incest and Morris dancing."
- That's good to know, Dad.
[door closes]
[melancholic piano music]
[eggs sizzle]
- Toast's burning.
- Ah!
- [Mick] Oh. - [Jake] Shit.
- Campaign For Real Ale just posted a review of the pub.
- Go on. I'm a big boy.
I can take criticism as long as it's constructive.
- The--the Drovers Arms is overseen by Michael Harley...
a piss-poor publican whose demeanour is as bitter
as the swill he serves.
- Go on.
- Do you mind lowering that spoon?
- [Pritchard] Upon entering The Drovers,
one is immediately struck by the dim lighting,
the tired decor and palpable cloud
of hostility emanating from the owner himself.
[employees laugh]
And if Michael Harley doesn't flatten you,
the food and beer definitely will.
- Oof.
- I'm gonna sue those bastards for defamation.
- Who?
- Who d'you think?
Lance Armstrong and Bradley bloody Wiggins.
- [Cal] If we can't afford to buy beer,
we need to brew it.
- What are you talking about?
- Putting the pub back on the map.
The only way we're gonna do that is if we brew something unique.
- And who's gonna drink it?
- If we make a name for ourselves,
it gives the pub a new identity
and, you know, more people will come.
- Cal, it takes years to learn how to craft a half-decent ale.
- Well, luckily for us,
we've got 50 years of knowledge right here.
Look, all of Granddad's notes.
Diagrams, brewing recipes,
written down in one very large book.
[gentle music]
- [Jake] Look, we're not kids anymore.
And a few pints of home brew
ain't gonna put us back in the black.
- We could produce 600 litres a time.
It's 80% profit.
- It's only profitable if you've got customers
and they're in short supply.
- You do know there's a pub directly opposite
that's packed out day and night?
- Yeah, a pub that's just won CAMRA's Best British Beer Award
two years on the trot.
- [Salesman] Yeah.
See you Thursday for bell ringing.
[car door bangs]
Nice day for it.
Sun's certainly brought the birds out.
- Seen any rare species?
- Just ticked off a spectacular redhead.
- Woodpecker or finch?
- She's up for anything, mate.
- [whispers] Cal. He's not a twitcher.
[unzips zipper]
- Oh, my god, Cal.
Fancy seeing you here. If I'd have known,
I'd have put you on the group chat.
- No. No, no, no. It's not what it looks like.
[siren wailing]
- Oh.
- Shit.
[motorcycle revs]
- Grandpa?
- Yeah?
- What's "dogging"?
[door opens]
- Ah, hello, Mick.
- All right, Jim?
- Yeah.
Well, no harm done, lads.
A little bit weird.
- It wasn't weird. It was...
it was a misunderstanding.
- Yeah, yeah, of course it was.
Yeah. Well. I'll let you go, eh?
- Cheers, Jim. - [Jim] Cheers.
See you, then.
[Jim chuckles]
[whispers] Beekeeping.
[scoffs, laughs]
[thunder clapping]
[rain pattering]
- What are you doing with all that?
- [strains] I'm not baking a cake, am I?
Can you give me a hand?
- No. You're all right.
[Cal strains]
- Nice bin bag.
- It's a poncho.
- Hey, look...
[distant dog barking]
- Gerald said he couldn't believe it
when he waltzed into the farm shop with his list.
Too cocksure by half.
- Well, I've heard he's dug out
his grandfather's old microbrewery
and wants to have a go himself.
- Maybe they'll surprise us all.
- Ah, he may have been bequeathed his grandfather's brewing kit,
it doesn't mean he's inherited his knowledge or palate.
He--he's a cider man at best.
- [Abi] That's a low blow.
[water trickles]
[clanks]
[lid clanks]
[faucet squeaks]
- What are you doing?
- What humans have been doing for thousands of years.
Making water more interesting.
♪ Oh it's-a lonesome away From your kindred and all ♪
♪ By the campfire at night ♪
♪ We'll hear The wild dingoes call ♪
♪ But there's-a nothing So lonesome ♪
♪ Morbid or drear ♪
♪ Than to stand in the bar ♪
♪ Of a pub with no beer ♪
♪ So it's-a lonesome away From your kindred and all ♪
♪ By the campfire at night ♪
♪ We'll hear the Wild dingoes call ♪
♪ But there's-a nothing So lonesome ♪
♪ Morbid or drear ♪
♪ Than to stand in the bar ♪
♪ Of that pub with no beer ♪
[♪ ♪ ♪]
- Definitely... Bosh!
[gentle river flowing]
Hey.
- [panting] What are you doing?
- Uh, writing.
- Shopping list?
- Song lyrics.
- I hope it's better than the second album of yours.
- You listened?
- Yeah...
but it wasn't you.
- Yeah. Curse of the second album.
- [Abi] Is that why you came back?
Thought you'd try your hand at brewing beer?
They're all talking about it, you know.
You managed to perplex some people
and ruffle a few feathers.
- Yeah? Your boyfriend's scared
of a little bit of healthy competition?
- Don't say boyfriend. - Why?
- Because I'm too old to have one and he's too old to be one.
- So how about silver spooner?
Or actually, you know what? My favourite.
Just a good old-fashioned posh twat.
Abs, come on.
That's the guy that dobbed us in to your mum
about our very good fake IDs.
- He's changed.
- So have I.
I came back to see you after my first tour.
I just wanted to apologize.
But you'd moved in with James Bradley.
- What did you expect me to do?
Sit around pining for you whilst you sung love songs
about other women?
- Every song was about you.
- Seriously?
[gentle guitar strumming]
- [Cal] You idiot.
[faint birds cawing]
["Daddy Cool" instrumental music]
- [singing] ♪ She's crazy like a fool ♪
♪ Wild about Daddy Cool ♪
♪ She's crazy like a fool ♪ [wooden sticks clack]
♪ Wild about Daddy Cool ♪
♪ Daddy, Daddy Cool ♪ [wooden sticks clacking]
[Jake grunts] - Oh, sorry, sorry, my bad.
Ah.
- Ow! Paxman!
This is a shambles.
We need to go back to what we know.
- No, look. I know the timing was a little off,
but we're not changing horses midstream.
- No, that is exactly what we're doing.
Next practice, we're going back to the Highland Mary.
Bloody Disco Morris.
- [Paxman] Jake. Jakey.
You all right, mate?
- No, I think I've got concussion.
- [bailiff 1] How much should I aim for, just?
- [bailiff 2] About two and a half.
- [bailiff 1] Is it really?
All right, let's do this and get home.
- Oh, shit.
- Lads!
[door opens, bangs]
- Oh, no sodding way.
Absolutely no sodding way.
Get off it! Get down!
- Don't embarrass yourself, mate.
- No! You already took the TVs.
You're not getting my music.
- Oh, yeah?
You and whose army?
- This one.
- Leave that where it is or we'll shove these sticks
where the sun don't shine.
And I don't mean Bristol.
- You folded like a deckchair.
- You see where they wanted to put that stick.
I've got to sit down and drive home, mate.
- I ain't calling head office. You can.
[door creaks closes]
- Thanks for that, lads.
I would normally offer you a pint on the house,
but I've got no draft.
I've got bottles, and I've got spirits.
All Benylin.
- [Cal] Well, if anyone's feeling brave enough,
I could do with an opinion on this.
[strains]
- What is it?
- It's a traditional single-infusion mash style,
with double dried East Kent Golding hops
in a blend of Irish malt.
- I'll take my chances.
- [Mick] You insured?
[beer flowing]
[spigot squeaks] - Here you go.
[Paxman gulps]
- Crikey, that'll put hairs on your chest.
- You wanna try it, Dad?
- No, I haven't got a thirst.
- I'll give it a go.
- [Christian] Here you go.
[beer flowing]
- [whispers] Here you go.
- Cheers. - Cheers.
[both gulping]
Oh... That should be served in a sherry glass.
- Come on.
Remember what Granddad used to say.
"It ain't fair to judge a pint until you've sunk a few."
- [member] Ay, true.
- All right, line 'em up.
- All right!
["Ca Plane Pour Moi" performed by Johnny Daukes and Betty Daukes]
- Hell's Bells?
- Hell's Bells!
[indistinct cheering]
[indistinct shouting]
[music continues in foreign lyrics]
[all screaming]
[flip cups tumble]
- I've got it.
- Yay!
- Hey, you're not laughing now,
are you, Christian?
[Jake groaning]
- [Cal] Morning, gorgeous.
[Jake groans]
How you feeling?
- Ahh.
Like something Keith Richards coughed up.
- Sorry, mate.
It was a mistake.
- It was a toxin, is what it was.
- [Cal] Look, I blame Granddad's handwriting.
Must've been a three, not an eight.
- Eight what?
- Pounds of sugar.
- You put eight pounds of sugar into a brew?
That could be classed as attempted murder.
Well, surely you were tasting it as you went along?
Oh, no.
Oh, don't tell me you're teetotal.
Cal, how are you supposed to brew a beer
if you can't even drink one?
- All right, look.
I screwed up. I did.
But I think I'm onto something special this time.
A mild ale Granddad was working on
before he passed away.
A lifetime's work channelled into one winning beer
he never got the chance to brew.
I mean, we do this right,
not only could we start turning a profit,
but we could enter CAMRA's Southwest
Regional Tastings with it.
- Please stop talking. - No.
Qualifying rounds are being held here
in the village at the fete.
Then the finals are going to be in London in August,
and... check this.
The winners of the 2010 Best Bitter category
were a microbrewery, just like us.
They went on to sell out to Budweiser and hit pay dirt!
I mean, brewing's in our blood, Jake.
If Pritchard can do it, why can't we?
- Same reason you can't write another hit song.
[phone vibrating]
Hello?
Yeah. I'm on my way.
Romy's been suspended from school
for throwing a drink at another pupil.
[Jake] Romy.
- What?
- You're supposed to be doing science homework.
- Brewing is a science.
- Don't get smart with me.
- I'm not. It's what Uncle Cal said.
- She's reading, mate.
Glass half full and all that.
- Oh, for God's sake.
Dad, you swore blind you'd been in contact
with the mortgage company.
- Oh, yeah, I forgot.
- Forgetting a debt doesn't mean it forgets you.
- All right, you find me a money tree,
I'll go and shake it.
- Dad, it says here that we've got 14 days to find 10 grand
or they're gonna start repossession proceedings.
- Something will turn up, it always does.
[birds chirping]
- [Cal's voice] So I don't really know how to say this
without sounding like a 16-year-old again,
but I wrote this song for you.
I hope you like it.
[guitar strumming]
♪ Picking up the broken pieces ♪
♪ Like a shell Left on the beach somehow ♪
♪ Sun sets On my own reflection ♪
♪ Just my shadow For protection now ♪
♪ I took the right And made it wrong ♪
♪ I never left when I was gone ♪
♪ A view is just a view ♪
♪ If I'm not there with you ♪
♪ The sea is just a sea ♪
♪ If you're not there with me ♪
♪ When you had what we had Tell me how do you move on ♪
- I'll give you three grand for it.
- Five. - Four.
I want a signature for provenance.
Helps with any future sale.
- But I'm selling it to you.
- It's a business, mate.
Not a museum.
- I'm sorry, gorgeous.
[balls thwack]
[upbeat music on stereo]
- What's that?
- My investment into our future.
- I thought you said you were skint?
- Sold my guitar.
- There you go.
Told you something would turn up.
- Oh, well, that's just brilliant, that is.
Now, before you couldn't even say his name.
Now you're in his pocket.
- [Mick] Money's money, Jake.
- Well done, Cal.
You know, you've got a real talent
for making everything about you.
- No, it's about making money.
And in six weeks' time,
we'll have another 180 litres of ale to sell.
- Yeah, only if it's drinkable.
And judging by the last pint you brewed,
I'm not holding out much hope.
- No one made you sink seven of them.
- The bottom line is we've got mortgage arrears
coming out of our arse, bloody council tax,
heating, electricity, water.
The list goes on and on.
- I am just trying to help.
- Help?
We've needed your help for years.
And you wait until you've run out of money
and become completely bloody useless
to turn up on your white horse.
Now, I'm sorry, Cal.
Look, no one is more proud of you than me.
But while you've been swanning about being a rock star,
I've been here trying to hold everything together.
And what have I got to show for it?
- You've got Romy.
- Yeah, well...
this is still not enough.
- Well, if you get any bright ideas...
be my guest.
[radio intro pulses and whirs]
- [DJ's voice] This is Rural FM,
where sheep jive and tractors vibe.
David Ray Jenkins here with a Birchbury bombshell.
Tonight, The Drovers Arms-- somehow still open for trade--
is hosting a pub comeback
for local one-hit wonder Cal Harley.
Remember him? Me neither.
But for those who do,
head on down and have a Bacardi breezer or two.
- I don't believe it.
- What?
- [Harry] It's The Drovers.
- Is it on fire?
- They've got bloody customers.
- Customers?
[excited chatter]
- That's a sight I never thought I'd see.
♪ I wake up at 3 a.m. so I can feel... ♪
- What can I get for you? - Another pint, please.
- [female fan] Cal Harley! Why don't you hang on?
- [female fan 2] What's he doing?
What is that?
♪...I turn to see If you're still there ♪
♪ I can feel you everywhere ♪
♪ How did we drift so far ♪
♪ You're my guiding star ♪ - Here you go, girls.
♪ You're my guiding star ♪ - Yeah. Oh!
- We've got plenty of wine, ladies.
No, that's-- - Jake.
- Oh. - [female fan 3] Get over here!
- You said come up with a bright idea.
- Yeah.
- [female fan 4's voice] Sing again, please.
Yeah.
- So, that's what it's like to have adoring fans.
[chaotic chatter]
They look intense.
- They look about one Bacardi breezer
away from dropping their knickers.
- Yeah, don't blame them.
I may have been through the change,
but I'd still give him one.
- Mum! - What?
I'm just saying what we're all thinking.
[excited chatter]
[phone shutter clicking]
- Hey, where's he going?
♪ I look up if you're in there ♪ - I don't know.
♪ I can feel your love again ♪
♪ I don't know where you are ♪
- I don't look as desperate as that, do I, Mum?
- Yeah.
♪ I can feel you everywhere ♪
[hyperventilating]
- Cal?
Cal, are you okay?
[Cal breathing rapidly]
Cal, what's going on?
- What's happenin'?
- Are you back on it again?
Well, what's going on?
- [stammers] I'm having a panic attack.
- Well, come on, this is no time to get stage fright.
We're taking more money in there tonight
than we have all year.
- Just take some deep breaths.
[Cal inhales] - No, he can breathe later.
Right now, he needs to get back in there.
You know, mix it up, put on a show.
- I can't.
I'm not that person anymore, mate.
- Well, just pretend.
- I'm not well, Dad.
- What do you mean?
- I was sectioned.
I'd been in a bad way for a while...
and then when I heard Mum had died,
I just unravelled.
I hated myself so much I had to make it stop.
- Go on.
- I tried to kill myself.
[soft, sombre music]
- Bloody hell, mate.
[Cal sobs]
- I just wanted it to stop...
everything.
- Why didn't you call us?
[breathes deeply]
- I was ashamed.
- You stupid bastard.
You stupid, stupid bastard.
- I'm sorry that I was a coward.
- No, you're not.
There isn't a day goes by when I don't think
about doing the same thing.
The only thing that stops me is the mess I'd leave behind.
And you ain't no coward.
You're my boy.
[birds chirping]
- [Abi] He looked... broken.
- That's what drink and drugs does.
- He had a nervous breakdown, Ed.
- [sighs] Since when have you cared?
- No matter what you think about him,
you have to agree that what's happened
to that family is tragic.
- Tragedies happen in families all the time.
I've lost my parents.
Shit happens.
- I kept this for you.
- It was a beautiful service.
- Yeah, it was.
- Exactly how Mum wanted it.
- All the words, all the readings...
all the songs.
[melancholic music]
- Thanks, Dad. - Yes, mate.
[door creaks open]
- What's this, happy hour?
- It was a lot happier before you came in.
What do you want?
- I want to buy the pub.
- It's not for sale. - Slow down, Dad.
Let's hear what he's got to say.
- We all know this is a dying trade
without proper financial backing.
- He's not wrong. - You keep out of this.
- But 50 places like this close down every month.
Luckily for you,
there's space in my portfolio for the Drovers.
At a fair price.
- We don't need your money.
- Oh, yeah, I heard.
You're going to try and brew your way out of this.
You know, creating a beer
isn't like writing a cheesy pop song.
It took my family 140 years to perfect the perfect pint.
- Listen, you won a couple of prizes.
The way I see it, you put silk on a goat,
it's still a goat.
- Is it?
If you think you can do better,
why don't you step up and be judged?
- Well, that's exactly what we are going to do, Edward.
So we'll see you at the CAMRA Regional Tastings.
How do you like that?
- Looks like you're not the only one who flew
over the cuckoo's nest.
- Say that again.
- Leave it.
[punches, Pritchard grunts] [body thumps]
- You've broken my nose.
- No, mate.
Your mouth did that.
[distant siren wailing]
[door opens]
- [Jake] Well?
- They charged me with ABH.
Bailed me till the end of the month.
- Sorry, lads. Best I could do.
But you might want to calm things down
a little bit, yeah?
A bit of dogging here, violent assault there.
People are gonna talk, you know.
- We weren't dogging.
- [whispers] No, of course you weren't, mate.
Anyway, mind how you go, lads.
- Cheers, Jim.
- We weren't.
- Didn't say you were.
- Now, you've really got to try
and get your temper under control, Dad.
- Nothing wrong with my temper.
Hey! Watch where you're going,
you prick! - You're the prick.
- Oh, yeah, that's good coming from a man dressed like a...
jelly baby.
That's not temper.
That's just being rude.
Come on, let's go home and get started.
- On what?
- On the brew.
I'm not having that bastard win another competition
and rub our noses in it.
- Cool, Dad.
[car rumbling]
- Look what I've found...
going through your mother's things.
- What the hell is that?
- Granddad's brew stick.
- It's for stirring the wort with.
It adds oxygen,
kick-starts the fungal yeast cells,
enhancing the flavours.
- Dad, this is going to take the beer to a whole new level.
- Sorry, have you two gone mental?
We need to go to Pritchard, beg him to drop the charges,
and pray that he'll still buy this pub.
- We've got nothing to sell, Jake.
We'll be lucky if we leave this place
with the fixtures and fittings.
Now, look, we've got enough money to tide us over
until the CAMRA tastings.
If that goes well, we qualify for the finals,
then we could easily attract some investment,
like Cal said.
- Dad, Cal's beer wasn't fit for human consumption.
- Well, then we learn from his mistakes
until we get it right.
Your grandfather always used to say that beer
is 90% water and 10% magic.
Ooooh! Abra-bloody-cadabra.
[gentle music]
- Can't believe it has come to this.
Saturday night, and we're watching a drunk geriatric
walk aimlessly around in circles.
- Standard night out with Paxman.
- But why can't we just use tap water like everyone else?
- Because great-granddad Ted said it doesn't make sense
to brew a living beer with dead water.
- Yeah. - That's right.
I mean, the chemical treatment process
kills off all the bad stuff,
but also zaps the minerals and nutrients.
- Oh, me hands are twitchin'.
- It's 'cause you haven't had a drink yet.
[Mick laughs] - The rod does not lie.
Oh, there we go.
Yeah, this is where we dig.
Just here.
- All right, well, if you can't beat them,
you might as well join them.
[gentle music continues]
- Right there.
I think we're gonna need something sturdier than that,
don't you? - [whispers] Yeah.
[post-hole borer clanking] - Keep it coming, Harry.
That's the way.
Keep it coming.
That's the way.
Keep it coming, Harry.
[electricity crackles] [all gasp]
Whoa there.
- What was that?
- I've got a good idea.
- You need a new stick, mate.
- [Dawn] Well, if brains were taxed,
you lot would get a rebate!
You just cut the bloody electrics.
- Oh, sorry.
We were looking for the old spring.
- Oh, why didn't you say?
Mum's house's always been on well water.
[lively folk music]
- Brewing basics.
[music fades]
- Do me a favour;
make sure you measure that sugar properly this time.
My body can't handle another five-day hangover.
- I don't get it.
Why are we going to all the trouble
of finding pure spring water
filtered through local limestone,
then you just go and dump a load
of old imported processed sugar in it?
- Well, the yeast have got to feed off something.
- Could use Dad's honey.
- Actually, that's a good idea.
That's what the monks used to do with their mead.
- I mean, we'd have to ask their permission.
- What, the monks?
- The bees.
Now, remember, these are sensitive creatures, okay,
so if they get upset or feel offended,
the hive will swarm and vanish.
So keep your distance.
[bees buzzing]
And under no circumstances, swear or blaspheme.
- That's half of my vocabulary gone.
[bees buzzing]
- Hi, queen bee.
- Hello, worker bees.
It's me Jake.
Now I'm here to ask permission to use your precious honey
for our family ale.
Your gift to the world is pollinating flowers,
ours is pollinating people.
[bees buzzing]
- They're humming.
That's a good sign.
- Oh, good. Nice.
[soft music]
- Ow! Jesus Christ!
The bee just bit me!
- Please tell me you did not just kill it.
- I hope I bloody did.
It bit me.
- Shit, there's one on your shoulder.
- What? - There's one on your shoulder.
- Just calm down.
- [Cal] Son of a *****, that bloody hurt!
- Can everyone please stop swearing?
- [swears in foreign language] - That's still swearing.
- [Cal] Well, since when were bees bilingual?
- I can feel it. Get it out of there.
It's on me. - Okay. All right, calm down.
[Cal groans]
They're feeling your energy.
- [Mick] Mother****er! Ah!
- Oh, bollocks. - [Mick] I'm covered in them.
- They're bloody swarming!
- Ah! Oh, my God! - [Cal] Run!
- [Mick] So it's a no from the bees then?
[gentle music]
[honeycomb squelches]
- Nice amber hue. - [Mick] Yeah.
- [sniffs] Mm.
Aroma ain't bad either.
Yeah I'm getting the, uh, the earthiness... the citrus...
- What about the taste?
- Oh yeah. That holds up nicely, that.
Yeah, the sweetness of the honey is coming through,
the pear drop ester notes,
and... a little hint of butterscotch.
Get your lips around that.
- [Mick] Uh, uh, uh, uh.
[Mick sniffs]
[Mick gulps]
Oh, that's lovely, that is.
I'll tell you what.
That is a pint your granddad would be proud of.
[footsteps approaching]
- Oh, shit. Abi.
Come on, you.
Let's go and see if Miss Stockton
will let you back in school.
- That's very nice, that is.
I'm gonna have another little drop of that.
- You fill her up, Dad.
- I've got some good news.
Now that you've had your assessment,
they are going to let you back to school.
- Awesome!
- But there are some ground rules.
You have to take your meds,
okay? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.
- And please, for me,
try to hand your homework in on time.
- Yeah. - Finished, okay?
You can't just stop in the middle of a sentence.
You have to reach a conclusion.
- Yeah, deal.
- And, Romy, no cutting Matilda's hair.
[water running]
[footsteps approaching]
I hear you put Romy to work too.
- Yeah, she's basically the boss now.
We're all just working for her.
- Giving her something fun to focus on has clearly helped.
- It's helped me too.
All of us, I think.
- I remember the first time I walked in here.
- Yeah, a lot of firsts happened in this place.
First gig.
First dance.
- First pint. - [Cal] First pint.
Grandad's solstice special.
- Mm. The longest day turned into the longest night of my life.
- Oh, I remember.
One pint in and you asked me to be your boyfriend.
- Hm. You asked me.
- No. No, that was definitely you.
- Must have been the beer talking.
- Must have been. - Hm...
- Anyway, if you hadn't asked, I would have done, so...
doesn't matter either way.
- Better get going.
I listened to your song.
It was beautiful.
[birds chirping]
[uplifting music]
- [host's voice] Welcome to the first Grand Summer Fete
and Campaign For Real Ale's regional tastings.
We're here to sample beer and boogie.
Nobody boogies better than local legends Hell's Bells.
- ♪ She is D! ♪ - ♪ Desirable! ♪
- ♪ She is I! ♪ - ♪ Irresistible! ♪
- ♪ She is S! ♪ - ♪ Super ***y! ♪
- ♪ She is C! ♪ - ♪ Such a cutie! ♪
- ♪ She is O... ♪ - ♪ Oh, oh, oh... ♪
- Right, this is going on TikTok.
- [singing in unison] ♪ D-I-S-C-O ♪
♪ D-I-S-C-O... ♪
- I love a man in uniform.
- You love anything with a pulse.
[Harry coughs]
- [singing in unison] ♪ D-I-S-C-O ♪
- [Paxman] ♪ She is D! ♪ - [Hell's Bells] ♪ Delirious! ♪
- [Paxman] ♪ She is I! ♪
- [Hell's Bells] ♪ Incredible! ♪
- [Paxman] ♪ She is S! ♪ - [Hell's Bells] ♪ Superficial! ♪
- ♪ She is C! ♪ - ♪ Complicated ♪
- ♪ She is O... ♪ - ♪ Oh, oh, oh... ♪
- Let's hope their beer is better than their dancing.
- Oh come on, Ed. It's just a bit of fun.
- [singing in unison] ♪ D-I-S-C-O-- ♪
- Fun will be seeing that thug locked up in prison.
- [singing in unison] ♪ D-I-S-C-O ♪
- [sings] ♪ D-I-S-C-O ♪
- [singing in unison] ♪ D-I-S-C-O ♪
[crowd cheering and clapping]
- [host's voice] Could all local brewers
and real ale enthusiasts
please make their way to the main tent
for CAMRA's Regional Tastings.
- Here they come.
- Oh, The Drovers!
Worst pub in Britain
- competing for the best beer. - Yeah.
- You pride yourselves as real ale enthusiasts.
Well, this is as real as it gets.
Brewed on the Drovers Arms premises,
using locally sourced natural ingredients
and 100% homemade.
- Like the cottage pie?
- This one's not from the freezer.
- This one's from the heart.
- So which of you is the brewer?
- It's a family affair.
- [Amy] And what's the beer called?
- Drovers.
- Well, let's hope the taste is more inspired than the name.
[spigot squeaks]
[soft, suspenseful music]
- They look well out of their depth.
- Uh, the Harleys would be out of their depth
in a drip tray.
[Harry laughs]
- Thank you.
We wish you the best of luck.
- All right.
- Nice, this one.
- Afternoon, ladies.
What's passed your lips today?
- That's a bit forward, Wilf.
- I've told you, Dawn, I'm not interested.
It's your mum I'm after.
[Dawn giggles] - Well...
- You should try the Drovers' new brew.
Slips down like a homesick mole.
[casual chatter]
- [Jeremy] Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen.
We have sipped, sucked and savoured
some absolutely barnstorming beers today.
- So let's hop to it and get to the first category,
Best Bitter.
Representing the Southwest in the national final
for the third year running with their latest offering,
Hoppy-Go-Lucky,
is our local legends, Pritchard's Brewery.
[crowd cheering and clapping]
- And representing the Southwest in the Special Bitter Category,
it is Hoptamystic.
[crowd cheering and clapping]
- Moving on now to the category of Mild,
but by no means meek...
[laughter]
- Representing the Southwest in this year's national final
at their first attempt--
I can't quite believe I'm saying this
but credit where credit's due--
brewed right here in this very village
from the Drovers Arms Brewery, it is Drovers!
[crowd cheering and clapping] [uplifting music]
- Go on, Mick!
- Oh, my God!
- We look forward to seeing all the winners
at the national final in London.
- Oi, look.
- Congratulations. - [Romy] Thank you.
- Hey, Edward.
I guess we see you in the Big Smoke.
- I'll see you in the back of a prison van more like.
Are you hoping to join your father?
Maybe you could get a family room.
- Ed, that's enough.
- I don't know why you're defending the competition.
- They're not competition.
You're all in different categories.
You're all winners.
- I'm getting a bit sick of this.
[gentle music]
- Sorry.
- Paxman?
- Yeah?
- Can you help me with my homework, please?
- Thought you'd been sacked from school.
- No, they let me back in.
- What's the question?
- Well we're working on Romeo and Juliet.
Love or hate?
Which is stronger?
- Hmm... Family feud versus young love.
- How young?
- Well, Juliet was 13.
- Do you not think she's a bit young
for all that love stuff?
- Yeah.
First you're too young, next thing you know,
you're too bloody old.
When the time comes, Romy, don't fanny about.
That's my advice.
[gentle piano music]
- We should get going, Dad. - Yeah, I know.
Just getting in a bit of a pickle with this here.
Your mum used to do my tie.
I get this far, and then it all goes reels of cotton.
- Okay.
Let's have a go.
- You still love Abi, don't you?
- I never stopped, Dad.
I'm not good enough for her.
- Of course, you are.
I know you've been to hell and back, mate,
but you're a better man for it.
Look what you've done there.
I look like a bloody teddy boy.
- You look great. Come on.
[footsteps receding]
[exhales]
[bus rumbling]
- Will the accused please stand?
Michael Harley, you've been found guilty of assault,
occasioning actual bodily harm.
We have taken into account your early guilty plea.
It is acknowledged by the court.
Sadly, the level of violent intent you showed
cannot be ignored.
I therefore sentence you to six months in prison...
suspended for two years.
[soft music]
- [Romy] How old were you when you first met Nana?
- [Mick] I was 25.
Cost me eight quid to get into Glastonbury that year.
That was the best money I ever spent.
Van Morrison was top of the bill.
But the real headline act was your grandmother.
On the way back, me and a few mates,
we stopped off here to watch the sunrise.
But I saw something much more beautiful.
Your Nana, my Sarah, she was right there,
singing and dancing with a bunch of her friends.
After a while, we got talking.
We didn't stop for 40 years.
Look at that view though.
That doesn't change.
Looks like time stood still.
It's just a shame that life couldn't, isn't it?
["Take a Bow" performed by Joe Cleere]
Can you hold that, love?
- Love you, Mum.
- You fly free, my songbird.
[ashes rustle in the wind]
♪ All of the beauty ♪
♪ Love will allow ♪
♪ You make it amazing ♪
♪ Come and take a bow ♪
- [Dawn] Mum, not everyone in this village
is having an affair.
- Oh, there's more to it than meets the eye.
How about that Mary? - [Dawn] Harry?
- [Edith] Goes to church. Churchgoer? Less church,
more goer, if you ask me. - [Dawn] Harry!
- [Edith] Look at those finger bouquets
she provides for the cricket.
[door bangs]
[footsteps]
- Why is the barrel hatch open?
- What?
- Oh. - No, no, no, no.
[door shuts]
[Romy gasps]
Bastards.
[beer dripping]
- Here. Drink some water.
- No, scotch.
- Really? - Yeah, scotch.
[clanking]
- [Cal] It's all destroyed.
Mash tun, fermenter.
Done the lot.
- The brew?
- Dregs.
- Grandpa!
- Dad? Dad! Hey!
- Hey, hey, hey!
- Jake, call an ambulance.
- They'll take too long.
- [sobs] Grandpa.
[suspenseful music]
- It's all right, Roms. Roms?
- I need an access code for a DFIB machine, please.
Zero, six.
Romy, sweetheart,
I need you to get back from it, okay?
We've got an ambulance on the way, okay?
Everything will be okay, I promise you.
[siren wailing]
[heart monitor beeping]
[door creaks open]
- [Nurse] Just to let you know,
the surgeon's doing an emergency coronary angioplasty
to improve the blood supply to his heart.
If his condition stabilizes, she'll insert a stent.
- If?
- He's receiving the best medical care.
I'll keep you informed of any developments.
- [Jake] Thank you.
[phone vibrating]
- Hello?
- Hey, Cal. It's Dawn.
Uh, Dawn Higgins. - Hey.
- Look, it's probably nothing but, uh,
I saw Harry coming out the back of the Drovers earlier,
and I just-- he looked well shifty.
- What?
- I just thought you should know.
Oh--
- Cal?
Cal!
[indistinct chatter and laughter]
- If my dad dies, you've got blood on your hands.
- Don't know what you're talking about, mate.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Get out of it, Wilf! - [Wilf] All right.
- When he saw the cellar had been vandalised,
he had a heart attack.
That beer was all we had.
And now he's fighting for his life,
lying on an operating table.
- I--I'm sorry, Cal.
But what's this got to do with me?
- Don't!
Someone saw you, Harry,
sneaking out the back of the pub.
- Is that true?
- Why?
You can't still be jealous.
Tell me why
I shouldn't press charges. - Cal--
- Tell me why I shouldn't destroy your life
like you destroyed ours.
- Cal, I've got a family-- - Tell me, Harry!
- Pritchard paid me.
- [Pritchard] He's drunk.
He doesn't know what he's talking about.
- You lying prick.
- Tread very carefully, Harry.
I had nothing to do with this.
I give you my word.
- See, the thing is,
we all know what your word is worth.
And while a lot of things have changed round here
whilst I've been gone, you...
you're just the same lying,
cheating little rat you have always been.
[footsteps receding]
[door creaks open]
- Abi, I had nothing to do-- - Don't.
[tense music builds up]
[car door bangs]
[car engine sputters]
- [Abi] Cal! - Come on.
- Talk to me.
[frustrated strain]
Just let me take you.
[music continues]
- I was just starting to get to know him again.
Why do we always leave things until it's too late?
- It's not.
[door creaks open]
- [whispers] Jake.
- I'm pleased to say your father's operation
was a success.
We're now going to move him down to the critical care ward.
- Thank you.
♪ Our love has changed ♪
♪ It's not the same ♪
♪ And the only way to say it ♪
- [Cal] This song brings back a lot of memories.
- Hey. - Hey.
Which one you looking at?
- I remember that night.
Like it was yesterday. - [short chuckle]
God, I was so nervous.
- I was a sucker for a guy with a guitar.
- Probably shouldn't have sold mine then.
♪ All the time We spent together ♪
- We look so young.
We look happy.
- We were.
I've wasted so much time.
I don't want to waste any more.
♪ I think it's time That I reveal it ♪
♪ 'Cause I believe it ♪
Morning.
- Morning.
[door opens]
- Uncle Cal, do you know...
Oh. Hello, miss.
- Hi, Romy.
[door creaks closing]
[both chuckling]
- We're so in trouble.
- Um, I'll leave this just here.
It's my homework.
On time.
It's love, by the way.
Not hate.
- What is?
- Romeo and Juliet.
Oh, don't fanny about.
That's the conclusion.
[door bangs]
[both chuckle]
- Yeah...
Uh-huh...
All right.
Okay, thank you.
- What'd they say?
- It doesn't matter that we've qualified for the finals.
They're not going to give us a business loan
for a new microbrewery.
- What about a crowdfunding page?
People raise thousands that way.
- We don't have enough time, miss.
- Yeah.
We need to start brewing by the end of the week
to even have a chance of having a beer ready on time.
- [Jake] Forget about the competition.
It's over.
We've run out of road.
The pub's not sustainable.
[poignant music]
[birds chirping]
[uplifting music]
[distant chatter]
- [Edith] All right, let's do this!
Gather round. [clears throat]
God gave us two hands.
One to help ourselves.
The second to help others.
- And we're here to help.
- I'm truly sorry for what I did.
I want to help put things right.
So, we've had a chat,
and the village would like to buy you a new brewing kit.
[heartfelt music]
Pritchard was trying to persuade us to invest
in a racehorse syndicate.
- But we'd rather invest close to home.
- There's six thousand five hundred
and four pounds there.
- I don't know what to say.
This is... this is so generous.
Thank you. All of you.
But um, you see to get a brewing kit
that's capable of producing the volume that we need...
you're looking at 15 grand.
- Fifteen?
- [Paxman] I'll make up the rest.
Pointless it gathering dust under me mattress.
- Paxman, that's almost nine grand.
- Eight thousand four hundred and ninety six to be exact.
- Why would you do that?
- I'm barred from every pub from Minehead to Mendip.
Where else am I gonna get a bloody pint?
[all laugh] - [man] Right, that's right.
[distant telephone ringing]
- Hey, Grandpa.
- Hello, sweetheart.
- How are you feeling?
- Much better. Ready to come home.
What the bloody hell have you come as?
Am I back on the morphine?
- We needed a compelling marketing story for the beer
that resonates with our family history.
- What, that we're all barking mad?
- That we're descendants of drovers.
- Dad, every successful brand has a story,
and ours goes back two hundred years.
- So we're going to take the traditional route to market
and show those CAMRA judges what we're all about.
- Your mother would be so proud of you two
coming together like this.
- That's it.
That's what we should rename the beer to.
["While Away the Miles With You" by Marcus Bonfanti]
- [Jake] I feel like a medieval Uber driver.
♪ To while away the miles With you ♪
♪ Wherever the road Leads us to ♪
♪ I'll sit back in my seat ♪
♪ Take the weight off my feet ♪
- [Cal] This outfit suits you, you know?
- [Jake] We look like extras from Poldark.
♪ The music, the money ♪
- [Cal] Are we going to have to pay congestion charge?
- I don't know what the law is,
but I don't think we can ride in the dark.
I feel like we should have left a bit earlier.
- [Cal] Yeah, we didn't really think this through, did we?
- I hope these horses have got night vision,
'cause I can't see a bloody thing.
This must have been what it was like
for our ancestors, hundreds of years ago.
- Do you ever wish you were born back then?
Sometimes I think the simpler life
would have suited me better.
- Now you're forgetting the... the work houses,
debtors prisons...
public hangings...
potato famine.
- Apart from them.
- The clap, that was rife...
- ****'s sake!
- Cholera.
Even a glass of water could have killed you.
- They would have thrown me into Bedlam
before you could say happy pill.
- You know I probably still would have ended up
married to a lunatic.
- Sorry about all that, man.
- I can see how she could leave me.
I can't understand how she could leave Romy.
- You're a great dad.
- Yeah, she's just pleased her Uncle Cal is here.
We all are.
- Love you, too. - I didn't say that.
[car rumbling]
[distant dog barking]
- Well, Drovers seem to be making quite a stir
with the real ale community.
- [Cal] What's up, Instagram?
Here we are in the Big Smoke.
- What the hell are they thinking?
- [Wilf] They're saying they're following
a traditional route to market.
Yeah. They're getting loads of likes.
Oh, comments and shares.
- It's a Real Ale Awards, not a fancy dress competition.
- Just keep the beer flowing.
- Did you just like that?
- Not me. Me finger slipped.
[uplifting music]
- Afternoon.
- [passer-by] Hi. - [Cal] Drovers Arms, tag us!
[chatter]
- [Edith] Mm.
- Ah, God, this looks good. Where's the bar?
- Good afternoon.
Welcome to the 35th Great British CAMRA Real Ale Awards.
Today for the first time ever,
two rival pubs from Birchbury, Somerset.
The Drovers Arms and the George Inn
will be competing against each other to be crowned
Champion Beer of Britain Award winner.
Well, in a small village like yours,
I imagine rivalries run deep.
Is this something of a grudge match?
- One that goes all the way back
to the Pitchfork Rebellion of 1685.
- Uh, yeah. Edward Pritchard's ancestors
were loyal to the crown, but peasants like us
said bollocks to the bluebloods.
- Yeah, and give it to the posh knobheads.
- Yeah, yeah, and that's exactly
what we're going to do again today.
- Yeah!
- Who are ya?!
- [shouting in unison] Who are ya?! Who are ya?!
Who are ya?!
Who are ya?! Who are ya?! Who are ya?!
- Obviously this competition means an awful lot
to the good people of Somerset.
Back to you in the studio.
- It's not just a competition.
Beer has played a crucial and underrated role
in the propagation of our species.
- In what way, Paxman?
- By helping ugly people have *** since 32 BC.
[Mick laughing]
- [Jake] This thing go a little faster?
Oh, all right, you're a bit close, mate.
- Where the hell are they?
They were meant to be here an hour ago.
- You got maps on your phone?
I don't know where we're going.
It's like a wardrobe on wheels.
Sorry, sorry, cheers, sorry. - Thank you.
Sorry.
- Come on, come on!
- How long we got?
- Uh, 20 minutes.
- [PA] This is your final call--
- No. Keeps going to voicemail.
They haven't posted for ages either.
- When they fail to win anything and the pub gets repossessed,
I'm going to buy it at auction and just leave it empty.
- Why would you do that?
- So when those turncoats get thirsty
and come knocking at my door,
I can tell them all with great pleasure
they're barred.
- Looking for signs for Olympia.
[car horn blaring] The horses know we're lost.
- Yeah we've gone the wrong way.
- There's still no sign of them, eh?
- No I checked the car park.
- Of course, you did.
- They better hurry up.
Judges are going to start tasting soon.
- That is like a hug in a glass.
That is rich.
It has caramel notes.
It's really, um, arousing.
- Yeah, that's what it is.
- Sign. Olympia. There it is.
There, there, there. - I see there.
- Excitement is mounting as we wait
for the results of the Champion British Beer of the year.
I have alongside me the two-time
Supreme Beer of Britain winner,
Edward Pritchard of Pritchard's Brewery.
Do you think you can be the first brewer
to win the triple crown?
- Let's just say I'm looking forward to making history.
- Excuse me; you can't park a vehicle here.
- Well, that's not a vehicle, mate.
It's a horse.
- That is a master class in balance.
The bitterness, the sweetness.
It's like walking a tightrope.
There's a sense of danger. - Yes, yes, yes.
But there's also a sense of safety in there, too.
Like, if I fell,
I know there's a bunch of firemen
waiting to catch me with their big trampoline.
- My thoughts exactly.
A massive trampoline.
Massive firemen. - Massive firemen.
[door opens]
- [Cal] Sorry.
- Drovers Arms. You're late.
What held you up?
Highwaymen?
- No, we got lost.
Okay, we got really lost
and then we woke up late this morning
and the horses needed water and...
just a little bit nervous.
Do you mind if I just...
[gulping]
Oh, that's really nice, that is.
- Shut up.
- Technically, you--
- Technically, you're disqualified.
If we bend the rules for you,
we have to bend them for everyone else.
- Um, we know that your time is precious,
but know we've--we've come a long way both emotionally
and geographically to brew this for you.
And yeah, we might have fallen a bit flat,
but this beer hasn't.
It's good.
It's really bloody good.
[happy chatter]
- He may be dressed like a pauper,
but are you ready to live like one?
- Cal may not be a millionaire,
but at least he's not morally bankrupt.
- [Cal] Prat.
- Mmm, that is disappointing, Jeremy.
- It's too immature.
- I don't think it knows what it is yet.
- Yeah, at the same time, it's too much.
- Mm. - I like jam.
I don't want to be chased by wasps.
- Exactly. It's--it's, um...
It's...
- Shite. - That's what it is.
It's officially shite.
- [announcer's voice] Could all competitors
please go to the awards area.
The prize ceremony is about to commence.
[all clapping]
[Wilf laughing]
- Good afternoon, everyone.
We are gathered today to acknowledge the very best
in the British brewing world.
- Yes, those wizards of the wort,
the malt magicians who turn water into wonderment
and hops into happiness!
- Yay!
- So without further ado,
this year's Champion Beer of Britain winners are...
In the Golden category,
Pint of No Return, Ironwood Ales.
[applause] [gentle music]
- In the Bitter category, Best Bitter...
Hoppy-Go-Lucky,
Pritchard's Brewery. - Yay!
- Come on. Yes!
- Smug git.
- Thank you.
- Strong Bitter, Village Idiot, Barley There Brewery.
[applause]
Speciality, Hopmen of the Apocalypse,
Bingham's Brewery.
[applause]
Stouts--Malt Fiction, Grumpy Geezer Ales!
[applause]
- And in the Mild category...
- Mother's Pride,
The Drovers Arms Brewery!
[applause]
- Yes, get in!
[Romy chuckles]
- We couldn't have done this without you, mate.
- [chuckling] Oh, well done.
Well done, my darling.
[applause continues]
- Chuffed!
- Well, congratulations to all our winners
and heartfelt sympathies to all our losers.
But there can only be one supreme champion today.
Our judges were unanimous in their voting.
Everyone agreed that the appearance,
the aroma and the flavour of this beer were truly unique.
- So it is with great satisfaction
to award this year's
Supreme Champion Beer of Britain Award...
to The Drovers Arms,
for their mild ale, Mother's Pride.
[wild applause]
[Jake laughs]
- That's amazing.
- Well, that was light work.
- Um, first of all,
we need to thank the Drovers Army.
[all cheering]
- We love you.
- You guys, you... you know what you did
and it won't be forgotten.
Secondly, every art form needs a source of inspiration
and brewing is no different.
- Mother's Pride is bold, authentic,
daring and full of heart.
Our mum was all of those things
and that is why we're dedicating this
and our beer to her.
- We're just sorry that she couldn't be here
to sink a pint with us today.
Thank you. - Thanks.
[applause]
[heartfelt music]
- There is no conspiracy, Edward.
The fact is, Hoppy-Go-Lucky
was not as good as your previous offerings.
- Maybe you should focus on making beer
rather than making history.
- You're going to regret this.
- Not as much as you.
You are barred from these awards.
- Oh please, Pritchard's Brewery is the awards.
Come on, let's go.
- Oh, sod off, you twat, and go and brew some cider.
[upbeat music]
[indistinct chatter]
- Everyone, this is David Schumer.
- Congratulations.
- He's a leading craft beer investor.
- I can see you're talented and passionate about brewing.
You've done a great job on social media
building your brand.
My expertise is financial.
I run profitable and successful breweries
and I'd like to do that with you.
- So how much you offering?
- [scoffs] It will be a considerable investment
to reach a much wider consumer base.
- I mean that sounds great,
but, um, well, this is a community beer.
- Mm-hmm. - Brewed in the village.
- Owned by the village.
- So we have to run it past our partners first.
- Sure. When--when can I meet them?
- Uh, well, how about now?
- Cheers!
- [singing] ♪ Pack up all you need ♪
♪ And pick up what you can ♪
♪ Stay close to me And try to understand ♪
♪ It won't be Like this forever ♪
♪ We'll get through this Together ♪
♪ Gotta let go, gotta move on ♪
♪ Gonna ride out of here ♪
♪ So long, the time's come ♪
♪ To face our fear ♪
- [all singing] ♪ Searching for the shining light ♪
♪ Searching it's gonna be All right ♪
♪ We'll find a better life ♪
[Paxman laughing]
- [singing] ♪ Gotta let go, gotta move on ♪
♪ Gonna ride out of here ♪
♪ So long, the time's come ♪
♪ To face our fear ♪
- [all singing] ♪ Searching For the shining light ♪
♪ Searching it's gonna be All right ♪
♪ We'll find a better life ♪
- Whoo!
- Let me hear you say!
♪ Searching for the Shining light ♪
♪ Searching it's gonna be All right ♪
♪ We'll find a better life ♪
[all cheering]
- Thank you!
[cheering continues, fades]
[car horn honking]
[car horn blaring]
- Hey! Bloody motorists!
I'm trying to save the planet!
Oh, shit.
["Under the Same Sun" performed by Jake Jefferson Field]
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
♪ In a quiet revolution ♪
♪ There's an unbroken light ♪
♪ Calling us Through the silence ♪
♪ And it guides us Through the night ♪
♪ When hope is a memory ♪
♪ And the weight Is hard to bear ♪
♪ So long as you're with me ♪
♪ Every burden we can share ♪
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
♪ When honesty is stripped away ♪
♪ By the powers that be ♪
♪ We'll come together In our hardship ♪
♪ Let kinder hearts Take the lead ♪
♪ A simple spark In the shadows ♪
♪ Lights up the darkest sky ♪
♪ Let your hand reach out To me, my darling ♪
♪ And together we will rise ♪
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
♪ (Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun) ♪
♪ We can hold it together ♪
♪ We can hold it as one (We can hold it as one) ♪
♪ Shoulder to shoulder Under the same sun ♪
[♪ ♪ ♪]
♪ We can hold it as one (We can hold it as one) ♪
[♪ ♪ ♪]
[music fades]