Kazia asks:
It all began in the spring of 1980, when Seth Armstrong phoned The Woolpack with a message for Amos. As it happened, Amos was down in the cellar at the time, so Mr Wilks took the message, which was that Seth had news for Amos and would be calling in later that day.
Seth had invited Sam Pearson along to hear the news he had for Amos.
"What were you phoning me about this morning, Seth Armstrong?" asked Amos. "Mr Wilks said it were important. You can have folks worrying leaving that sort of message."
"It's about your allotment," said Seth. "It's come through sooner than expected." Amos had applied for an allotment some months before. "There's been one disused for awhile up near't Ramseys'..."
"Well, what's that got to do with me?"
"It's yours now. I know how disappointed you were when you didn't get one a few months back. So, me as Chairman and't allotments committee have moved heaven and earth to get you this one."
Amos was most unhappy. He confided in Mr Wilks: truth to tell, he'd gone off the idea of an allotment. But he didn't want to turn it down when so much trouble had been taken to secure him one.
"Anyway, Seth and Sam were waiting for me to back down - I could see it in their eyes."
And the Brearlys had their pride.
Amos made his way to the allotments and consulted a rough map Seth had drawn... where was his plot?
Then he saw it: "Oh, 'eck!!"
Amos had been allocated a shambles of an allotment. And he knew Seth Armstrong had done it on purpose.
"You'll sort that out in less than five minutes, Amos," said Seth later that day in The Woolpack. "Anyway, digging runs in't family, don't it?"
"Eh?" Amos was puzzled.
"Undertaking!"
"I hardly thinks that's the sort of comparison to go making in polite company," bristled Amos. "Anyway, techniques are quite different."
"How?" asked Seth.
"I've no intention of discussing that sort of thing over my bar!"
"Well, Amos, if you can't cope..." said Sam, impishly.
"Of course I can cope! Us Brearlys have always been noted for keeping a good garden - we've always had brown fingers!"
-
So, fleet of foot and light of head, Amos made his way down to the allotments again to start work on transforming his patch the very next day.
Off with his duffle coat, out with his fork, dig in, and...
... immediate humiliation as the fork handle snapped in two. Of course, there were a couple of village worthies nearby to spread the news of Amos' glorious debut at the allotments all around Beckindale.
However, the Brearlys were not to be put off by minor setbacks, and when Sam and Seth arrived to check on Amos' progress (this should be a laugh, they thought!) they were taken aback to find that Amos...
... was bringing order to what had previously been chaos. Neighbouring allotment holders were agog.
Of course, the physical toil took its toll on Amos and one afternoon Seth and Sam called on him and found him in a very undignified state...
... sleeping like a true allotment holder.
Amos set to to study horticulture and came across a "deep bed planting method" he reckoned was well worth a try.
It involved not walking on the soil - hence the plank.
Several villagers got told off for treading on his precious patch of ground: "I'll not have my horticultural facilities sabotaged!" Seth and Sam were, despite themselves, interested in Amos' efforts and Sam even suggested that they might have to look to their laurels.
Amos even bought a propagator. He really was very devoted to his hobby. 
Mr Wilks made fun of Amos' neglect of the allotment and, stung, Amos set out to make amends. Once on his patch of God's good earth, he lifted a piece of sacking and found...
... a magnificent marrow - which he had planted but which had since grown with no help from him!
So, horticulture was well and truly back on the agenda. Seth and Sam were in heavy competition with marrows for Beckindale's annual horticultural show, but Amos reckoned he had the winner.
Seth was well pleased with his little beauty, and went to feed it some of his top secret preparation a few days later...
... unaware that he was being spied on.
But then...
... he did become aware: "What do you want, Amos Brearly?!"
Sam was later bothered by Seth in his shed. The competition was intense, and Seth was out to discover the strength of the opposition. Having seen Seth off with a flea in his ear, Sam settled down to play his recorder. Then a terrible thought struck him!
Outside, it was plain that Seth had no intention of leaving Emmerdale Farm just yet. Stealthily, he set off in the opposite direction...
Until Sam appeared and pointed out that the direction Seth was taking led to his garden...
... and that he should be walking in the opposite direction - off the farm.
Well, of course, Seth was all injured innocence.
The day of the show dawned, and Amos applied the final beauty treatment to his pride and joy:
All was hustle and bustle in Beckindale as preparations for the show began...
Seth arrived with his marrow in a little cart behind his bike...
Amos arrived, as did Sam. Their greetings were friendly on the surface, but highly guarded:
On the way he met Seth: 
Marrows all laid out in the marquee, it was time for Amos to open The Woolpack. Seth and Sam joined him there for a drink. Tension was running high. The Judgement Hour loomed.
The three men flew from the pub...
... and across the village...
... to find a very large marrow had joined theirs in the marquee - and what's more, had been awarded First Prize!
Meanwhile, through the back lanes of Beckindale, wended a weary figure on a bike. A broken man. A man who had been subjected to complete and utter humiliation.
"Nellie Ratcliffe! Anybody but Nellie Ratcliffe!!" he was muttering.
It all began when Sam Pearson returned from a competition prize holiday in Ireland with a large pike he'd caught. The time taken journeying to England had done the pike's personal freshness no favours at all and by the time it arrived at Emmerdale Farm it was distinctly smelly.
Sam hadn't gone far - just to his shed, where he began to wrap the pike in newspaper.
Sadly, the taxidermist in Bradford only did casts and that wasn't what Sam wanted. He was now determined to get rid of the fish and in quite a state about it all, ranting away and doing a great deal of arm waving. Annie had a gentle word with him: "There's no need to take it out on me. Or yourself, now is there?"
Once more the fire died. Annie was quite right - as she so often was.
Sam was now calm and resigned. The pike was going in the dustbin. Matt Skilbeck caught him about to close the lid on the smelly article, and called: "Eh, Grandad - what you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing?" replied Sam, rather terse.
But it wasn't easy to smile for the camera...
Say "Cheese"? Say "bleurrggh" more like! The stench was growing ever more powerful.
... leaving Grandad alone with his pal. Although he wasn't posing for the photograph at that point, Sam still kept the fish at arm's length whilst he waited.
Annie and Jack came out to the farmyard. Everybody tried to look jolly. The fish was now absolutely reeking. "Er, hang on a bit... no, you'll have to get in a bit closer," said Matt looking through the camera's view finder. So, Annie and Jack did. "That's better. Right. Now then, look at the fish... and smile!"
Jack grimaced: "It's not the easiest combination!"
A week or two later, Sam was in the Woolpack: "Oh by the way, Amos, you haven't seen this photograph, have you? You haven't either if it comes to that, Seth."
Sam and Seth had already had words recently about fishing and the importance of local knowledge. Sam had pointed out that he had been fishing around Beckindale since he was a nipper, and he could give Seth a few years.
Now, with his prized Irish pike catch being ridiculed, Sam was outraged: "Seth, that was skill and nowt but skill! Are you suggesting that my angling leaves summat to be desired?"
"Nay, Sam!" said Seth, innocently.
"Now then, Sam!" cried Amos, fearing verbal or physical violence on his licenced premises.
"All right!" said Sam placatingly - he turned back to Seth: "We'll have a competition - we'll go out fishing you and me and we'll see who catches the most!"
Seth was delighted. But it wasn't joy at the prospect of baiting fish that made him smile. It was joy at baiting Sam Pearson.
On the day of the fishing contest, Sam was all of a fluster. He turned his shed and the hall cupboard upside down in search of his fishing rod - despite Annie's insistence that it was in his bedroom. Finally she went to find it for him and discovered it immediately - under his bed.
Seth arrived...
... and the two set out to prove their angling superiority...
It was quiet down by the river side. And grim. The atmosphere was distinctly hostile. The negative atmosphere mainly came from Sam - Seth was thoroughly enjoying his sport.
Tired after the excitement of preparing for the contest and lulled by the sound of running water, Sam began to nod off.
"ALL RIGHT, SAM?!" bellowed Seth, making Sam jump out of his skin.
"Shut up!" Sam left his reel and went over to Seth: "It's a fishing competition not a bloomin' football match - shouting like that!"
At that moment there was the sound of something pulling on Sam's line. He hurried back over to his fishing rod but by the time he got there the only thing on the end of his line...
... was an empty hook. Seth, of course, laughed like a drain.
Jack arrived to see how the two were getting on. Seth said he wasn't doing badly. Jack went to see his grandfather.
"You winning, Grandad?"
Sam shushed him and told Jack he wasn't doing badly.
"You're about as communicative as Seth!" grinned Jack. "Can I have a look?"
Sam stopped him "Don't look in there! I don't want him to see!"
"All right with me. But he'd not see from there, not with me in between."
"Seth's got eyes like a hawk," said Sam. He looked across at the wily gamekeeper. "Got a face like one an' all!""Oh, I don't know, Seth, I can go on for a bit longer."
"Aye, me too, but I've got a bit of a thirst up. 'Ow about it?"
"Fair enough, come on then," said Sam.
"Are you going to show first?" asked Seth.
There ensued a bit of haggling over which man should show his catch first. Finally, Seth did.
"There! I'm glad it's not strip poker!" said Seth.
"You've beat me this time, Sam Pearson. It's Seth Armstrong, also ran." Seth gracefully accepted his defeat.
"Well, Seth, I'll not keep you in suspense any longer," said Sam, reaching down for his catch. "There!"
And he held up the sum total of his endeavours - a tiny fish to match Seth's.
Seth laughed: "It's local knowledge as does it! Put mine and thine together, lad, and we wouldn't be eating tonight!"
Sam joined in the laughter. "Well, Seth, it's like you said there's a lot of luck in it and today we had bad luck!"
"Aye, What we gonna tell folk, though?"
"We'll tell 'em it were a draw - we threw 'em back, no more, no less!"
"We threw 'em back?" asked Seth, doing just that with his fish.
Sam followed suit. "That's it. And if they keep asking us the same question we'll give 'em the same bloomin' answer!
And that's just what they did.
Amos Brearly told Seth the result seemed like an anti-climax. But Seth replied that there had been the thrill of the chase - "Two souls locked in combat to see who were't better man!"
The reality of the situation was that Seth had thoroughly enjoyed his sport. He'd wound Sam up a treat.
