Nancy Banks-Smith on The Archers: coughing cows and French farce as spring arrives

cow with floral crown
Birdsong, sunshine and infectious bovine rhinotracheitis … the joys of spring hit The Archers. Photograph: Philipp Guelland/Getty Images

Ah, the sweet soundtrack of spring! What is more soothing than the clippety-clop of coconut shells as Justin and Lilian go for an early morning canter? (“Come on, Aziz!” “Walk on, Amir!”) Nothing is heard but the sound of a bird and cows coughing with infectious bovine rhinotracheitis and a hound, misguidedly named Dauntless, whimpering with a poorly paw.

The Archers sound-effects department is well stocked with coconut shells and coughing cows but, keen to be at the cutting edge, it is now stockpiling the sounds of hi-tech drones and robotic tractors to use as soon as they become legal.

But not yet, dear God, not yet.

Justin’s morning hack was a tentative rapprochement, like a spider who, having had his head bitten off, returns to ask: “Was it something I said?” A week earlier, kneeling, he had pressed his suit in The Bull (“Lilian! I love you from the bottom of my heart! Will you marry me?”). She, saying she didn’t know, left like a cork popping from a bottle of champagne. He, brushing the sawdust from his pressed suit, left to the sound of his own footsteps. The horny-handed, their pints frozen in mid-air, loved every minute of it.

The very French farce of Justin and Lilian has been spliced rather oddly into this everyday story of country folk. When Justin’s wife spotted him fishing for an earring in the depths of Lilian’s blouse, a mayor was happily on hand to distract attention from this contretemps, this faux pas, by getting spectacularly drunk. All words about embarrassment, including embarrassment, are always French.

Anyway, spring it is. The birds are on the wing (“Vultures are circling over the broiling unit”), calves are being born, whether they want to or not (“Grab that rope and pull like hell! Fill that bucket with cold water and chuck it over its head”) and Tom has returned from Rio fired up with plans to go into gut flora (“Fermented Foods are the Future!”) How this will fit into his sausage empire, who can tell?

A Month in Ambridge returns on 26 April