And Gray wants to throw a party -- presumably to celebrate his wife's safe return home, rather than his mother's maniacal homicidal streak, although it's sometimes hard to tell with these posh folk! Any excuse for a social function! Rosemary's not impressed by the idea -- but, as she says, "I've been called many things, but never a killjoy." It's only a shame Perdy's parents didn't think to name her Joy.
Over at Barraclough's, Carl (which is an interesting way of spelling 'twat') is being characteristically kind and attentive to Grace. PLEASE SPOT THE DELIBERATE MISTAKE IN THE PRECEDING SENTENCE THERE. He's a bit too busy to spend the day with his depressed, lonely, grieving lady friend, although he's not heartless: he's prepared to spare a moment of his busy day to give her a lift to the station! Which, when you think about it, is actually very helpful: now she doesn't have to wear herself out with a long, tiring walk before THROWING HERSELF UNDER A TRAIN.
Anyway, back at Mill Cottage, Perdy is refusing to drink her orange juice. Has she run mad? Does she not care about getting her five-a-day?! As Gray phones Rosemary to discuss Important and Confidential (tonic water related) matters, Perdy takes the opportunity to escape to the kitchen and pour the juice into a handy, portable plastic bottle. This is probably essential if you need to be poisoned while on-the-go and want to avoid spillages.
At Ashley and Laurel's, meanwhile, Hilary gives Laurel some cabbage to stick down her bra. No, really. And then, day by day, she'll gradually add carrots, then potatoes, then a nice leg of beef, and by the end of the week she'll have produced the world's first fully underwired roast dinner! No, not really. Anyway, this slightly unusual serving suggestion (honestly, you'd never catch Saint Delia poaching food in her undergarments!) leads Doug to -- quite understandably -- make a quick exit: he's off for a spot of fishing with Zak and Shadrach. Hilary is reasonably horrified: fishing is very much a gateway hobby. Today he's reeling in a couple of fish, tomorrow it'll be crack cocaine and prostitution! You simply cannot take these things too lightly!
Over at the police station, Perdy, unaware that Rosemary has followed her there -- although I'm not sure why ("Well, ye-es, she would try to kill me just for marrying her son, but I hardly think she would stoop so low as not respecting my privacy!") -- is busy not being taken seriously by the desk constable. He cruelly disregards her request to see someone in charge, and seems to be labouring under the impression that she might want to report a missing poodle of some variety (OH GOD I'VE JUST REMEMBERED HOW MUCH I MISS PHOEBE). Perdy triumphantly pulls out her trump card, or rather her trump bottle of orange juice, the international symbol for "I'LL THINK YOU'LL FIND THIS IS SERIOUS BUSINESS". He is as awestruck as you might expect.
And now we're back to the thrilling "Old People versus Postman" subplot -- you wonder why some of this stuff hasn't been adapted for Hollywood yet, you really do! -- as Sandy knocks over Jamie's post cart with his van, Hotten's equivalent of 'a fatal hit and run'. What would Her Majesty say! So disgusted is he at the rampant hooliganism infecting the Dales, Jamie storms (well, wobbles: apparently Royal Mail equipment isn't designed to withstand VICIOUS ROAD CRIMES) off, just as Sandy discovers he's left behind a parcel. And, I've got to say, I can only applaud ITV for having the courage and insight to film a storyline covering such a topical and controversial issue as 'stuff getting lost in the mail'! What daring! What vision!
And, in less ground-breaking plots, we're back to the police station, where Perdy's in the interview room with a little policeman, who will from now on (quite inventively, I thought) be referred to as Little Policeman. He, too, doesn't seem entirely convinced by Perdy's claims, but at least he's being a bit nicer about it. "Sorry to moan," says Perdy, "but someone's trying to kill me!" (I love her when she's not drugged up!). She's not having any of his platitudes, because she has brought him "hard physical evidence":
"Look what she tried to do to me!" she cries, waving the orange juice at Little Policeman (whose name is apparently 'Barnaby'). Now, I really hope that at some point off-screen, Perdy has actually explained the concept and significance of the bottle to this poor bloke, or he must just be sat there thinking, "She did what?! She... tried to boost your Vitamin C levels and protect you from scurvy? Why, the HEARTLESS FIEND!".
Outside, Rosemary waits until Perdy's gone, before making her own visit to the police station. It is unlikely that she has decided to hand in her weapons to their Fruit Juices Armistice.
Meanwhile, as Hilary frets about Doug's welfare, he is indeed fishing. In the Dingles' front room. For cans of beer. Honestly, I have no idea why she was so suspicious about the whole situation!
Back at the police station, Charlie Vaughan, Dark Overlord of All Hotten, is having a word with Little Policeman about Mad Perdy and how she is mad. Little Policeman admits that Perdy hadn't mentioned that. No! Really?! Clearly no one has ever informed her of the well-established SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCE that proves that the sentence "Oh, and I've just escaped from the loony bin!" is capable of making any outlandish claim up to 120% more believable!
Vaughan tells him not to worry about the whole thing -- "the family", he says, "are taking appropriate steps", which sounds worryingly like code for "finding an appropriate spot to dump the body". But I actually have faith in Little Policeman -- he does, after all, share a name with that most upstanding of policeman, Midsomer's legendary DCI Barnaby, which leaves me safe in the knowledge that he will definitely bring some sort of justice for Perdy, regardless of what Vaughan might have to say on the matter. Er, that is, after accidentally letting 20-30 people die first. It's the Barnaby way!
At Mill Cottage, and Rosemary and The Least Professional Doctor Since Frankenstein are discussing Grayson's pointy head. Oh, and Perdy.
ROSEMARY: "I don't think she should have been released from hospital!"
DOCTOR: "What are you saying, Rosemary?!"
JUST A WILD STAB IN THE DARK HERE, but I think, think, that she might just be leaving a heavily-veiled hint that... she doesn't think she should have been released from hospital! Then again, I shouldn't be too cruel: not everyone can read people like I can.
Belatedly, Carl turns up at Grace's with some flowers. "Lovely," she says, "but I'm going away tonight, so I can hardly take them with me." That's right, love, kick a man where it hurts! IN HIS FLORAL BOUQUET. Carl is undeterred by her steely demeanour, though: he wants to prove to her that he understands what she's going through. Grace tells him she can't cope with him blowing hot and cold at the moment. "I don't want to stop seeing you," he tells her. You should probably stop wearing these then, mate:
As Laurel and Hilary pick Doug up from the Dingles' house, which is notable for its conspicious lack of fish (ooh, he'll be in trouble when he gets home!), at the the pub, the hard-hitting postal storyline races towards its nail-biting climax: an item of Alan's post is missing! HONESTLY I DON'T KNOW HOW THEY COME UP WITH THIS STUFF DAY AFTER DAY. How do they maintain the pace?
And David discovers that De Souza's have nicked his cleaning contract for the pub RIGHT from under his ridiculous haircut! Bless his (presumably now in need of a good clean) little heart.
And as Hilary and Doug prepare to go back home... well, their relationship might be looking a bit rough, but, hey, at least Hilary and Laurel are getting along better now! You win some (daughters), you lose some (marriages)!
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