[string music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Busy day ahead of you, Mr. Rumpole?

Mm.

Open just a little wider for me now.

What terrible crime are we on today?

[mumbles].

My old lady?

Oh, you mean Amanda.

I'm not sure she'd be too keen on being called that.

[mumbles].

She did something to her back, playing golf.

Well, sir, golf covers a multitude of sins, hmm?

Especially for the ladies of Hampstead Garden suburb.

Bite together.

Rinse now, please.

Now, what were we talking about?

Manslaughter.

Oh, dear, not really.

Yolanda can be extremely irritating at times.

What woman can't?

But I never felt the need to bash her over the head.

No, no, no.

I was talking about my case down the Bailey.

My client is a man called Tong.

He's accused of manslaughter, killed his wife, Mrs. Tong.

She fell, hit her head on the fender.

Oh, really?

How fascinating.

I've only done a temporary job.

But you give me a ring if you have any trouble.

It should see you through the day.

I'm afraid it might take more than a temporary job to see me through the day.

I am before Mr Justice Ollie Oliphant.

[string music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Ow!

Oh, sorry, Rumpole!

Oh, I do apologize.

Sorry, Rumpole.

Miss Probert bashes into you, nearly knocks everything flying.

And all she can say is, sorry, Rumpole, on the trot!

Ow!

Sorry, Rumpole.

Sorry for sending your client to chokey.

Sorry for not letting you see all the prosecution statements.

Sorry for treading on your foot on the Circle line.

Sorry for pinching your band!

Have you pinched my band, Inchcape.

Sorry, Rumpole?

You have.

Oh, honestly, Inchcape, nowadays, this barristers robing room is little better than a den of thieves.

These are my bands, Rumpole.

There's some bands over there on the table, slightly soiled.

They're probably yours.

Slightly soiled, probably yours?

Sorry, Rumpole.

No, they are not mine!

Well, sorry, whoever they do belong to.

A bloody man's presumably got mine anyway.

Sorry, whoever you are!

Hello, Erskine-Brown.

What are you sorry about?

I'm not sorry about anything, Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Oh, are you not?

Oh, I meant to ask you about calling your client.

Mr. Tong?

CLAUDE ERNSKINE-BROWN: Yes.

Are you calling him?

Well, now, that's an easy one.

I'm calling him Mr. Tong because that's his name.

Do you intend to call him into the witness box?

You see, I've been asked to do this murder in Lewes.

One does have so many demands on one's time now one's in silk.

So I thought, if you're not calling him, I thought maybe we could finish today.

Are those my bands, you're wearing.

What's that written on them, there?

What's that?

C.E.B., Claude Erskine-Brown.

When did you write that?

Oh, really, Rumpole?

Are you calling your client?

Wait and see.

- He's not in a good mood.

- I know.

We collided in the entrance-way.

He didn't even say he was sorry.

COURT CLERK: Hold the Bible in your right hand and read from the card.

I swear by-- that the evidence I give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Mr. Rumpole, your client's left something out of the oath.

Yes, sir.

I noticed, my Lord.

Well, see to it, Mr. Rumpole.

Use your common sense.

Now, Mr. Tong, who is it that you swear by?

One I would not drag down to the level of this place, sir.

What's he mean, Mr. Rumpole, drag down to the level of this place?

What's he mean by that?

Well, I think he means, my Lord, that the Almighty may not wish to be seen in court number 4 at the Old Bailey.

Are you saying, my court isn't good enough for God?

Is that what you're saying?

I'm saying, my Lord, that this court is a place of sin and worldliness, and that we should not involve a certain person in these proceedings.

May I remind your Lordship of the book of Ezekiel?

"And it shall be unto them, a false divination to them that have sworn oaths."

Never mind about the book of Ezekiel Mr. Rumpole, can't you control your client?

Unfortunately, no, my Lord.

Perhaps your Lordship would have more luck.

Well, when I was a young lad, the first thing we learned at the bar was how to control our clients.

It's a pity you weren't brought up in good old, commonsensical chambers in the North of England, Mr. Rumpole.

Yes, my Lord.

Perhaps I might have acquired some of your Lordship's charm and polish.

Yes.

Now, let's use our common sense about this, shall we?

Mr. Tong, do you understand what it is to tell the truth?

I've always told the truth during my 30 years in the Ministry.

Ministry?

Is your client a man of the cloth, Mr. Rumpole?

I think he means the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries, where he was a clerk for many years.

Do you know what it is to tell the truth?

Yes!

There you are, members of the jury.

That's the way to do it.

Now, let's get on, shall we?

I assure your Lordship, I can't wait Ow!

You all right, Mr. Rumpole?

Just temporary stopping.

Stopping?

Why are you stopping, Mr. Rumpole?

Oh, why can't he shut up?

Mr. Tong, you were married to the late Sarah Tong.

On the 13th of March, 1950, in what was then the village of Peña.

The weather, as I remember it, was particularly inclement, dark skies and a late snow flurry.

Never mind about the weather.

I took it as a portent of storms to come, my Lord.

Just tell the jury of your married life.

It is only with the greatest respect and due deference that I adopt the words of the book of Proverbs.

Your Lordship is no doubt familiar with chapter 21.

"It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop than with a brawling woman in a wide house.

It is better to dwell in the wilderness than with a contentious and an angry woman."

[piano music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ It's about Rumpole.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: I thought it must be.

He gets so tired.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: So does Guthrie.

Rumpole really needs a rest.

Oh, I don't think Guthrie needs that.

He needs something that'll jolt him into some sort of activity.

I mean at night.

I mean at night, too.

All day, he's doing such exciting things, dressing up in funny costumes, sending people to prison, all that sort of glamorous nonsense.

But when he gets home, he's flat as a pancake.

Is Rumpole flat as a pancake, too?

Well, no, not exactly.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: Lucky you.

Lucky?

You mean he actually does something?

Well, nothing in particular.

He drinks his claret, of course, if you can call it claret.

But he's so nervous and irritable nowadays.

And then, of course, he's had this terrible trouble with his teeth.

If only Rumpole could get a job sitting down.

Like a clerk or something?

Something like a judge.

Really?

Well, I don't mean a red judge, not a really posh sort of judge like Guthrie, no, more a sort of a circus judge.

That's what Rumpole calls them.

And Guthrie does know such important people.

I suppose I might ask.

Oh, Marigold, would you?

Rumpole would be much better tempered if only he were a sitting judge.

This is absolutely intolerable.

We've been through half the Old Testament.

For God's sake!

My Lord-- All right, for all our sakes, when are we going to come to the facts of this manslaughter?

Mr. Tong, on the night that this accident occurred-- Accident?

That's for the jury to decide.

Why do you call it an accident?

Why did your Lordship call it manslaughter?

Surely, that is something the jury have to decide!

Did I say that?

Did I say that, Mr. Erskine-Brown?

Yes, you did.

I thought, for a moment, you were joining the prosecution team.

Or was that a single-handed effort to prejudice the jury?

[chatter] Mr. Rumpole, that was a quite intolerable thing to say.

My Lord, that was a quite intolerable thing to do!

I may have had a momentary slip of the tongue.

Or your Lordship's well-known common sense may have deserted him.

Mr. Rumpole, I think you should be warned.

One of these days, you may go too far.

Now, can we get on?

Certainly, my Lord.

I did not wish to interrupt the flow of your Lordship's rebuke!

Now then, Mr. Tong, on the night in question, did you and your wife quarrel?

As per usual, sir.

What was the subject of the quarrel?

She accused me of being overly familiar with a near neighbor, a certain Mrs. Grabowicz, my Lord, a lady of Polish extraction, whose deceased husband had, by a curious coincidence, been a colleague of mine in the Ministry of Ag and Fish-- And Mr. Tong, forget the neighbor's deceased husband, if you would be so kind.

What did your wife do?

She ran at me with her nails poised, as though to scratch me across the face, as it was often her habit so to do.

However, as ill luck would have it, the runner in front of the gas fire slipped beneath her feet.

And she-- she fell.

As she did so, the back of her head made contact with the raised tiling in front of our hearth.

And she received the injuries that ultimately caused her to pass over.

Mr. Rumpole, is that the version of this lady's death you wish to leave with the jury?

Certainly, my Lord.

Does your Lordship wish to prejudge the issue?

Are we to have a little premature adjudication?

Mr. Rumpole, I've warned you once.

I shall not warn you again.

I'm looking at the clock.

So I see.

We'll break off there, back at 19 past 2:00, members of the jury.

I understand, you're on bail.

Is Mr. Tong on bail, Mr. Erskine-Brown?

He is, my Lord.

Now, you're in the middle of giving your evidence.

So it's vitally important that you speak to no one about this case during the luncheon adjournment, and that nobody speaks to you, particularly your legal advisors.

Is that thoroughly understood, Mr. Rumpole?

Naturally.

I do know the rules, my Lord.

I hope you do, Mr. Rumpole.

I sincerely hope you do.

COURT CLERK: Court to be upstanding.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Listen to me.

Is this damn thing going to last forever?

For God's sake, get on with it.

You're driving me mad!

Talk!

That's all you do.

Talk, you boring old fart!

Just get on with it.

I've got enough trouble with the judge without you causing me all this agony.

Get it out!

That's all, short and snappy.

Put us out of our misery.

Get it out, and then shut up!

Have a good lunch, Rumpole?

No, I have not had a good lunch.

I have not had any lunch at all.

I suppose you're too busy talking.

Mr. Tong, did you ever intend to do your wife the slightest harm?

No.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Did you strike her?

No!

Did you assault her in any way?

No.

No.

Thank you.

Just wait there a moment, will you, in case Mr. Erskine-Brown can think of something to ask you.

You've become monosyllabic since lunch, haven't you, Mr. Tong?

Perhaps it's something he ate.

No, it's nothing you ate, is it, as your learned counsel suggests.

It's something Mr. Rumpole said to you.

Said to him?

When are you suggesting Mr Rumpole spoke to him?

Oh, during the luncheon adjournment, my Lord.

Erskine-Brown!

JUSTICE GERALD GRAVES: You be quiet for a moment, Mr. Rumpole.

Mr. Erskine-Brown, did I not give a solemn warning that no one was to speak to Mr. Tong?

And he was to speak to no one during the luncheon adjournment?

You did, my Lord.

That was why I was so surprised when I heard Mr. Rumpole quite clearly.

And yet, you heard Mr. Rumpole speaking to the defendant, Tong?

CLAUDE ERNSKINE-BROWN: I'm afraid so, my Lord Go on, Claude.

Really?

And what did he say?

He told Mr. Tong, he did nothing but talk.

And he was to get on with it.

And he was to get it out.

That was all.

And make it snappy.

Oh, yes, and he told Mr. Tong, he was a boring old fart.

A boring old what, Mr. Erskine-Brown?

Fart, my Lord.

He's not the only one around here, either.

Well, now, Mr. Rumpole, what have you got to say to Mr. Erskine-Brown's accusation?

Nothing, my Lord.

Nothing?

Absolutely nothing.

You don't deny that what Mr. Erskine-Brown has told this court is true?

I neither accept it nor deny it.

It is an outrageous suggestion from an incompetent advocate.

Apart from that, I don't feel called upon to make any comment.

I take it that I am not on trial.

Not at the moment, Mr. Rumpole.

I can't answer for the bar counsel.

Then I suggest we concentrate on the trial of Mr. Tong, my Lord, and forget mine!

Why did you have to do that, Claude?

You mean my cross-examination of Mr. Tong?

Rather brilliant, I thought, got the judge on my side immediately.

Yes, and got the jury on Rumpole's side.

Mr. Tong was acquitted.

I don't know if you remember?

Well, win a few, lose a few.

That's par for the course, if you're a busy silk.

Now, what's it to be, Liz?

Dry white, is it?

I mean, why did you do that to Rumpole?

Well, that was fair enough, wasn't it?

He shouldn't have talked to his client while he was still in the box.

Two dry whites, Bill, something from the Loire, perhaps a pouilly-fumé.

Are you sure that he did it?

I heard him, Liz, with my own ears.

Now, you don't think I'd lie to you?

It has been known.

Didn't you lie to your wife about taking me to the opera?

Oh, now, that was love, Liz.

That's entirely different.

Everyone lies when they're in love.

Don't tell me you're in love with me again, Claude.

I won't believe a single word of it.

Did you really mean to get Rumpole disbarred?

Disbarred, Rumpole?

That's not possible.

If you ask me, they've been longing to do it for years.

And now, you've gone and given them just the excuse they need!

My God, you're beautiful when you're angry.

Two house whites.

Oh.

Oh, well, I suppose so.

You can't imagine what married life was like, Dot, when my wife was Lord Mayor.

I bet you were proud of her.

Proud of her?

Well, what happened to my self-respect?

I was constantly referred to as the Lady Mayoress.

Poor old Henry!

Poor old Henry, yes.

I was sat in the gallery at council meetings.

You know that little gallery in our town hall, known as the hen pen?

I was sat there with the wives.

Things a bit better now, are they?

Well, now that Eileen's reverted to alderman?

Very minimally, Dot.

Oh, yeah.

She's on this slimming regime now.

What shall I go back to, lettuce salad and cottage cheese?

You know that white stuff, tastes of soap?

Oh, and nothing to drink, of course, no, no, no, no alcohol.

Do you reckon you could go another snowball, Dot?

I'm all right, thanks.

I know you are, Dot.

You most certainly are all right.

May I ask you a very personal question?

No harm in asking.

Do you like me, Dot?

I mean, do you like me for myself?

Well, I don't like you for anyone else.

You're a very nice sort of person, speak as you find.

And I'm a big part of your life?

Of course, you are!

Thank you, Dot.

Thank you very much.

That's all I needed to hear.

Well, that deserves another snowball, quite decidedly.

I mean, you're my boss, aren't you?

That's a big part of my life.

You've got to fight it.

Fight what?

Your case, the establishment against Rumpole.

Oh, my dear Miss Liz, there is no case.

Remember, it's a question of free speech.

Oh, is it?

Your freedom to speak to your client during the lunch hour.

You're a civil rights issue now, Rumpole.

Oh, really?

I don't think I want to be that.

You're drinking brandy?

Dutch courage.

Rumpole, that's not like you.

You've never been afraid of judges.

Judges?

My dear Miss Liz, as I have always taught you, fearlessness is the first essential for an advocate.

No, no, no, I can cope with the judges.

It's those other fellows that give me the jim jams.

What other fellows, Rumpole?

Dentists.

[bell ringing] Indeed, we do, quite a lot.

You may have heard the porter ringing the hand bell before dinner.

That's been going on since the Middle Ages.

Its purpose is to summon in such of our students as maybe fishing in the Fleet River.

Oh, I like that.

I like that very much.

Well, we of the Outer Temple regard it as a rather charming eccentricity.

I've had enough of eccentricity lately.

And I don't find it a bit charming.

Oh, Oliver, I've heard you've been having a bit of trouble with Rumpole?

You've got to admit it.

He's a genuine eccentric.

Genuine?

Look here.

Where I come from, we know what genuine is.

There's nothing more genuine than a good old Yorkshire pudding that's risen in the oven, all fluffy and crisp on the outside.

[singing french] Junior, we don't sing on guest nights in this inn, only on the night of grand revelry.

I'm very sorry, Master Treasurer.

MAN: And please remember that.

Oliver, you were saying?

Well, it's all so theatrical with Rumpole.

I mean, those old clothes, they make him look poor and down at heel.

They're all put on to get a sympathy vote from the jury.

And that terrible bit of old waistcoat, with cigar ash and gravy stains.

It's no more than a facade of a waistcoat, a sort of dickey.

The old Lord Chief would never hear argument from a man he suspected of wearing a backless waistcoat.

You remember him saying to old Freddie Ringwood, it gives me little pleasure to listen to an argument from a man wearing light trousers.

This Rumpole you've been talking about, I gather he's a bit of a character?

Character?

You could say, he's definitely got form.

That means previous convictions, Bishop.

We get them in our business, priests who try to be characters.

They've usually come to it late in life, preach eccentric sermons, mention Saddam Hussein in their prayers.

Madeira, Bishop?

Oh, thank you.

Give me a plain, undistinguished parish priest, not too interesting, who could marry them, bury them, and still do a decent Armistice Day service for the veterans association.

Or a chap who can put his case, keep a civil tongue in his head, and not complain when you pot his client.

By the way, what did Freddie Ringwood do in the end?

Was it that business of his girl pupil, trying to slit her wrists in the women's robing room?

No, old Freddie's trouble was that he spoke to his client while the fellow was in the middle of giving evidence.

No, it sounds familiar.

But in Rumpole's case, there's also the matter of the abusive language he used, to me, on the bench.

I mean, not that I mind for myself.

I mean, I can use my common sense about that, I hope.

But when you're sitting, representing Her Majesty, the Queen-- They're saying that Rumpole's case has been sent on over to a disciplinary tribunal.

May the Lord have mercy on his soul.

Amen.

Rumpole on trial.

You must admit it's rather an amusing idea.

[laughter] Hilda, I have something to tell you.

And I have something to tell you, Rumpole.

I think I have just about finished with this game.

What game is that, Rumpole?

Oh, you know, standing up in court, bowing to the judge, if your Lordship pleases, in my humble submission, with the greatest respect, my Lord.

I'm just some boring old fool that no one has any respect for at all.

Well, that's just the point, Rumpole.

You shouldn't have to stand up or bow to anyone any more.

You should spend the rest of your days sitting.

If that's all they've got to say to me after a lifetime of trying to see some sort of justice done, trying to make them open their eyes and see past their prejudices, from this time forth, I never will speak word.

I'm sure that's best, Rumpole.

Except, of course, for your summings up.

My what?

Your summings up to the jury.

You can do that sitting down, can't you?

HORACE RUMPOLE: Hilda, what are you talking about?

Your news, Rumpole.

I know what it is.

I talked to Marigold Featherstone in Harrods.

You're going to be a judge!

Ha, ha, ha!

No, my dear old thing.

I am not going to be a judge.

I'm not even going to be a barrister.

I am up before a disciplinary tribunal.

They are going to kick me out.

What is it, Rumpole?

Have you got yourself into some sort of trouble?

You could say that.

Is it another woman?

Not really, another man, a north country comedian who gave me more of his Dartmouth common sense than I could stand!

Sir Oliver Oliphant.

None other!

When is this tribunal?

Oh, shortly.

And I shall treat it with the contempt it deserves.

And after that, I shall rest.

For the sword outwears its sheath.

And the soul wears out the breast.

And the heart must pause to breathe, and love itself have rest.

I shall stand by you, Rumpole, no matter what the cost.

I shall stand by you through thick and thin.

Oh, Hilda.

I was afraid of that.

Our champion brief, up for trial.

I never thought I'd live to see the day.

Oh, he'll walk, though, won't he?

Oh, well.

Oh, you and the Timson, Mr. Bernard, we'll get him through.

We've always done that, haven't we, worked as a team?

And what's the charge they got him on, exactly?

Speaking to a client while he was still giving evidence.

Well, can't you get your client to say he never?

It's rare, the vehicle, what I've got in mind for you.

Yeah, well, the trouble is, Mr. Tong has vanished abroad with the woman next door.

We can't trace him, even if Mr. Rumpole were to deny the conversation.

Which he does, of course.

Well, that's the problem.

All the fight seems to have gone out of him.

I've never seen him like this before.

Well, we'll have to help him out, won't we?

There you are, Mr. Bernard, cop an eyeful of that.

Just the vehicle for a gentleman of your stature, property of a late undertaker, who sadly passed over before he got the full joy and benefit out of it.

Look, you tell Mr. Rumpole, we're all behind him.

Tell him we're working at it.

That ought to cheer the old chap up a bit.

[knock] Come in.

Sam.

Ah, Mrs. Rumpole, Hilda.

Are you looking for your husband?

No.

No, he's not in Chambers, drowning his sorrows, perhaps, in that of wine of his.

Yes, I'm afraid that's all too likely to be true.

No, it's you I called to see, Sam.

You do know that Rumpole is in a little difficulty?

Terrible, terrible trouble, I'm afraid.

I have prayed about it.

I can assure you.

I have prayed long and earnestly.

Well, I hope you're going to do a great deal more than pray for Rumpole.

Do, Mrs. Hilda?

What more can I do?

I am standing by my husband through thick and thin!

I hope you're not standing against him, like Claude Erskine-Brown.

I shall have something to say to Claude, presently.

Oh, no, no.

I'm not against him, no.

Good.

I went to the bar council.

- You did?

- Well, of course.

I called on the Secretary to discuss Rumpole's case.

And I made it absolutely clear that I was standing by him.

He was a charming gentleman, perfectly charming.

And he told me that Rumpole needs a QC to defend him.

If he defends himself, this Mr. Hockridge told me, it's curtains for Rumpole.

Yes.

Well, I think Edward Hockridge gave you some very sound advice.

So I told him, there was no problem about finding a QC of standing.

I'd ask his Head of Chambers.

Do you mean me?

I don't know who else is head of these chambers.

No, no, no, no.

I mean, you want me to take on Rumpole as a client?

I want you to stand by him, as I am doing, and as any decent, honorable, Head of Chambers would for a tenant in trouble.

Oh, well, Mrs. Hilda, I don't know.

You see, he has got to apologize.

And I'm sure this nice Mr-- whoever it was you saw, I'm sure he made this perfectly clear.

I mean, how can I persuade Rumpole to apologize?

Leave that to me.

I'll do the persuading.

You just think of how to put it nice and politely to the judge.

Oh, Rumpole as a client-- God, give me strength.

Oh, don't worry, Sam.

If God doesn't, I certainly will.

[chatter] FRED TIMSON: Mr. Rumpole?

Fred!

Fred Timson, what can I do for you?

Not in any kind of trouble, are you?

No, no no, no.

But I heard you was.

Now, look, I want you to talk quite freely now.

I want you to regard me as your legal advisor.

Oh.

So, you've undertaken the thankless task of defending Rumpole?

It's in the great tradition of the bar.

One is bound to represent the most disagreeable client in the most hopeless case.

Hopeless, I'm glad you see that.

It shows you've got a bit of common sense.

Yes.

But if Rumpole were to apologize-- He never will.

Yes.

But if I, or someone, whomsoever it might be, could-- you are known, I believe, in some quarters as the quality of mercy.

Now, if there were to be the most humble, contrite apology?

Rumpole would rather be disbarred than apologize to me.

Yes.

But if he would?

If he would, it would give him more genuine grief and pain than anything else in the world.

I'd enjoy seeing that.

I really would.

It will be up to the tribunal, of course.

Oh, yes.

And it so happens that Carey and Chestham, being interested spectators in the trial of Chessie's brother-in-law, Lenny Panton, on the Craig Fort Post Office job, was in the Old Bailey on that very day.

And they kept your client, Tongue, or whatever his name was-- Tong.

Yeah, that's it, yeah.

They kept Mr. Tong in view throughout the lunch hour, both were remaining in the precincts.

Owing to a family celebration the night before, they didn't fancy their dinner.

And they can say, with the utmost certainty, that you did not speak one word to your client throughout that lunch hour adjournment.

So the good news is, you've got two cast-iron alibi witnesses!

I've informed Mr. Bernard accordingly.

And you are bound to walk!

I see.

What was the name of the judge that was hearing the robbery that they attended?

Oh, yeah.

They told me that.

It was old penal Parsloe.

Yeah, that was it, yeah.

Mr. Justice Parsloe is now Lord Justice Parsloe in the Court of Appeal.

He hasn't been near the Old Bailey for at least two years.

Nice try, Fred.

But it wouldn't have worked, even if I decided to deny the charges.

Who was the judge, then?

Never mind, Fred.

It's the thought that counts.

Don't do it, Rumpole.

Don't do what?

Look for the easy way out.

Oh, don't be absurd, Ballard.

Remember, however serious the crime, all sinners may be forgiven.

And remember, there are those who are standing by you, your devoted wife, and me.

You, you're standing by me?

I have taken up, Rumpole, the burden of your defense.

Well, put it down again.

I have nothing to say to those ridiculous charges!

I think I can save you, Rumpole, if you truly repent.

Repentance, Rumpole, it's the only way.

Apologize.

Apologize, me, to Ollie Oliphant?

Never!

I do not ask it for myself, Rumpole.

I ask it for that fine woman who has devoted her life to you, a somewhat unworthy cause, perhaps.

But she is devoted.

Really?

Rumpole, I ask it for Hilda!

Furthermore, the one thing you have-- How can I bear it, Rumpole, me, who remembers Daddy at the bar, how respected he was.

How can I bear to be the wife of a disbarred barrister?

What do you want me to do, Hilda?

Take Sam Ballard's advice.

Apologize to Sir Oliver Oliphant.

All right, Hilda.

You win.

[typing] I told Eileen last night.

It was an evening when she wasn't out at the drainage inquiry.

And I told my wife, quite frankly, what we'd decided.

What did we decide?

When you told me I was a big part of your life.

Did I say that?

Well, you know you did.

We can't hide it, can we, Dot?

We're going to make a future together.

You told your wife that?

Well, she understood what I was on about.

I've got to have this one chance of happiness while I'm still young enough to enjoy it.

Did you say young enough, Henry?

So, we are beginning a new life together.

Is that all right, Dot?

Now, I've got to take this copy of the Professional Conduct rules over to Mr. Ballard.

Henry, you're not moving out of your home or anything, are you?

Of course, I am, just as soon as we've had time to look around for somewhere.

Got to rush now, darling.

Oh, blimey!

MONTAGUE VARIAN: Judge, you have dealt in detail with the clear instructions you gave Mr. Rumpole not to speak to his client during the adjournment.

Yes.

I mean, I made it perfectly clear, to anyone with an ounce of common sense.

MONTAGUE VARIAN: Indeed, you did.

Finally, Judge, did Mr. Rumpole say something about prejudice?

Oh, don't lead.

He accused me of being prejudiced, yes.

And spoke of premature adjudication.

I was not at all sure what he meant, at first.

Thank you, Judge.

Judge, it's extremely courteous of you to agree to attend here in person.

And absolutely charming of you to lodge a complaint against me.

Absolutely charming, as Mr. Rumpole says.

He also wishes you to know that he was suffering from severe toothache on the morning in question.

Mr. Ballard, is toothache an excuse for speaking to a client during the luncheon adjournment?

I should have thought Mr. Rumpole would have wanted to rest his mouth.

My Lord, I'm now dealing with the question of rudeness to the learned judge.

The boring old fart judge.

My Lord, my client wishes to, in his own words, apologize to the learned judge.

My Lord, if it pleases your Lordship, I realize that there are things which should never be said or done in court, things which are utterly inexcusable, and which no doubt amount to contempt.

Rumpole, the tribunal is-- I am sure I may speak for us all, both surprised and gratified by this unusually apologetic attitude.

I take it, you are now about to withdraw the inexcusable phrases?

Inexcusable, yes, my Lord.

I was about to put to Mr. Justice Oliphant, the inexcusable manner in which he sighs and rolls his eyes to heaven when summing up the case for the defense.

Well, you can believe that if you like, members of the jury.

But use your common sense, why don't you?

And what about describing my client's conduct as manslaughter, when that was the very fact a jury had to decide?

If he will say sorry for that, then I am perfectly prepared to apologize for pointing out his undoubted prejudice.

Am I expected to sit here and endure this?

No, no, my Lord.

Rumpole, what were you thinking about?

You were supposed to apologize!

I'm prepared to swap apologies.

I heard that, Mr. Ballard.

As I think your client knows perfectly well, my hearing is exceptionally keen.

I wonder what Mr. Rumpole's excuse is for his extraordinary behavior today.

He's not suffering from toothache now, is he?

My Lord, I will take instructions.

Rumpole, hadn't you better have toothache?

No, I had it out.

My Lord, the answer is no.

He had it out during the trial.

Had it out during the trial.

We shall proceed with this unhappy case tomorrow morning.

Had it out.

My Lord, may I make an application?

What is it, Mr. Rumpole?

I'm getting rather tired of Mr. Ballard's attempts to get me to apologize unilaterally.

Would you kindly ask him not to speak to his client over the adjournment?

Liz, where are you taking me?

To the scene of the crime, Claude.

I want you to show me exactly where you were standing.

Well, it was here.

I was here.

And where was Mr. Tong?

Just over there, on that bench.

Oh.

So, well, you could see him, then?

Oh, yes, of course, I could.

Stay there.

Where was Rumpole?

Well, just behind the arch, I suppose.

You suppose?

CLAUDE ERNSKINE-BROWN: Well, I know I heard his voice.

LIZ PROBERT: You heard his voice coming from behind this arch?

CLAUDE ERNSKINE-BROWN: Yes.

Well, Rumpole's voice is pretty unmistakable.

And when did you first actually see him?

When he walked out of the archway.

And that was after the conversation you thought he was having with Mr. Tong was over?

Well, yes.

But what do you mean, the conversation I thought he was having?

You boring old fart, just get on with it.

I've got enough trouble without you causing me all this agony.

Get it out.

That's all.

Something like that, yes.

Get it out.

You didn't bother to think, get what out, did you?

Rumpole's dentist?

Well, it's Lionel Leering of Harley Street.

Why, Liz Probert, are you having trouble with your teeth?

No, I don't think that Rumpole does like him very much.

Does he call him a boring old what?

Yes, I am afraid he does, occasionally.

If the tribunal pleases, our next witness will be called by my learned junior, Ms. Elizabeth Probert.

I shall call Mr. Lionel Leering.

In that chair, Mr. Leering.

Take the Bible in your right hand.

Miss Probert.

No, I am not going to fight it.

I instruct you, Miss Probert, don't do it.

Rumpole, this is my big moment in court.

It's what you trained me for.

I was your pupil all that time.

Don't spoil it for me!

Well, I suppose, if you have to.

Are you Mr. Lionel Leering?

And do you carry on your practice in Harley Street in London?

That is so, my Lord.

On the morning of the 18th, did you treat, Mr. Rumpole?

I did.

He came early because he told me he was in the middle of a case at the Old Bailey.

He was defending in a manslaughter.

I gave him a temporary stopping, which I hoped would keep him going.

And did it?

Apparently not.

He rang me around lunchtime and told me, the tooth was causing him pain.

He was extremely angry.

He raised his voice.

Can you remember what he said?

As far as I recall, he said something like, I have enough trouble with the judge, without you causing me all this agony.

Get it out, he said, and put us out of our misery.

Do you know what he meant by that?

He wanted his tooth extracted.

Mr. Varian.

My Lord.

If this evidence is correct, and we remember the admissions made by Mr. Claude Erstine-Brown.

Erskine-Brown.

Thank you-- about the position of the telephones, and the fact that he never saw Mr. Rumpole.

Then this allegation about speaking to his client falls to the ground.

Does it not?

I must concede that.

And all that remains is the offensive remarks to Mr. Justice Oliphant.

MONTAGUE VARIAN: Yes, my Lord.

Yes.

Well, much obliged.

Mr. Ballard.

My Lord?

This case now turns on whether your client is prepared to make a proper unilateral apology to my brother, Oliphant.

SAM BALLARD: Indeed, my Lord.

Then we'll consider that matter after luncheon.

His brother Oliphant, indeed.

Why does it have to be only me?

I don't think you should apologize.

Not apologize?

Is that what you've decided?

Well, I'm sure that nothing will make you stop work unless you are disbarred.

And think how wonderful that will be for our marriage.

What do you mean, Hilda?

Well, if you can't consult with all these criminals, I shall have you at home all day.

And there are so many little jobs for you to do, re-paper the kitchen, see that the parquet in the hallway is properly polished.

You could help me with the shopping every day.

We'd have my friends back to tea.

Dodo Mackintosh always complained, she sees nothing of you.

Oh, really?

Thank you, Mrs. Rumpole.

Was that all right?

Absolutely brilliant!

My Lord, Mr. Rumpole wishes to make a statement.

Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

If Your Lordship pleases, I realize that some people are more sensitive, more easily offended, than others.

Over my long years at the Old Bailey, before your Lordship and your brother judges, I have had to grow a skin like a rhinoceros.

Mr. Justice Oliphant, I acknowledge, is a more sensitive plant.

And if I have said anything that may have hurt him, I do most humbly and most sincerely apologize.

Will that do?

[chatter] Ah, Judge!

This is a great day for Equity Court.

We're celebrating.

Mrs. Claude Erskine-Brown, elevated to the bench, and her husband in silk.

Claude Erskine-Brown?

They must be giving away silk gowns with pounds of tea, nowadays.

You're Dot, aren't you?

I'm Eileen, Henry's wife.

He's been telling me about you.

I don't know why he did that.

He had no call.

Look, I'm really sorry.

Oh, don't be!

No, it's a great relief to me.

I was on this horrible, slimming diet, because I thought that's how Henry liked me.

But now, he says you want to make your life together.

Could you just whirl those sandwiches in my direction?

We're not going to make a life together.

I don't know where he got the idea from at all.

I mean, I like Henry.

He's very sweet and serious.

But in a boyfriend, like, I'd prefer something a bit more muscular.

You're not going to take him on?

I couldn't entertain the idea at all, with all due respect to your husband.

He'll have to stay where he is, then.

I'm not going back on that horrible cottage cheese, not for him, not for anyone.

We're all very grateful to you, Sam, for the way you handled this case.

You got the old boy to apologize quite nicely in the end.

Well, thank you, Judge.

One does have a certain influence as Head of Chambers.

And, of course, we're very grateful to you for allowing him to go on practicing.

Well, some of us felt that life might be a little dull without him.

She doesn't want you, Henry.

Shh!

How do you know that?

She goes for something far more muscular.

I know what she means.

Ah, Judge, and dear Lady Featherstone!

Well, Sam, so you saved Rumpole, did you?

To let him loose on the Bailey again.

It was a very worrying case, Judge.

I was afraid we'd lose.

Even more worrying, in my opinion, now you've won.

Well, well, there's my sister Judge, Mrs. Erskine-Brown.

Phyllida, congratulations.

Horace, why on Earth didn't you tell me, you were speaking to your dentist?

Claude, your suggestion was beneath contempt.

I didn't want to argue about it.

Why ever not?

What's come over you?

When the sword outwears its sheath, and the soul wears out the breast, and the heart must pause to breathe.

But not quite yet, perhaps, not quite yet.

You're looking more beautiful than ever, Judge.

Why don't you drop into my room and share a dish of tea?

Perhaps I could give you a few tips.

On judging?

No thanks, Guthrie.

I mean to keep my foot out of my mouth for as long as possible.

Oh!

Well, you could just drop in for some tea.

And we could talk about other things.

What other things?

Oh, hello.

So, Rumpole won't be sitting as a judge.

In fact, I heard he nearly ended up sitting at home.

Rumpole left the court without a stain on his character.

Ah, Judge, you're here!

Rumpole invited me.

So of course, I'm here.

Use your common sense.

I did hear him apologize, made him squirm.

Did he happen to do that?

- It was agony for him.

- Good, good.

That's all I wanted.

Oh, you know my wife, do you, Marguerite?

You used to be matron down at the Old Bailey.

How are you, Judge?

I see we're rather letting that naughty tummy of ours run away with us.

You got any bottled beer?

I'm sorry.

I didn't want her to come.

But she insisted.

It must have been very embarrassing for you.

We got on like a house on fire.

You're a very lucky bloke, Henry.

Having you, you mean?

No, having a woman who's prepared to eat cottage cheese for you.

Splendid win, Miss Liz.

You showed yourself absolutely ruthless in the pursuit of victory.

Liz is absolutely ruthless in pursuit of anything.

Have you forgiven me?

Oh, I think so.

Who was it that gave Hilda the line about me being home all day?

What's that, Rumpole?

Oh, Hilda, I was just saying to Liz, how splendid it would to be home all day.

I mean, it wasn't that, that led me to apologize.

That's the trouble with barristers.

You can never believe a word they say.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Oh, Fred, Fred Timson!

So glad you could come.

Quite a do, eh?

Judges and sparkling wine.

Thank you, everyone.

Thank you very much, indeed.

My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, we are here to honor Mrs. Justice Erskine-Brown and her husband, Claude, one of Her Majesty's counsel, and learned in the law.

- And Fred.

- And Fred.

What's that, Rumpole?

My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, we are here also to honor Mr. Fred Timson, leader of the Timson clan, a vast family of South London villains, petty thieves, and receivers of stolen property.

But no violence in your record, Fred, right?

That's right, Mr. Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Mr Timson conducts his life according to strict monetarist principles.

So I do, Mr. Rumpole.

He does not believe in the closed shop.

He believes that shops should be open at all hours of the night, preferably with a jemmy.

Too right, Mr. Rumpole, yeah.

But without Fred Timson and his like, how many of us would be out of work?

How many brother judges, how many of Her Majesty's counsel learned in law?

How many coppers?

How many humble Old Bailey hacks?

Indeed, we may all be bundled out onto the embankment in cardboard boxes.

So my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, charge your glasses.

Henry, fill them up.

I give you a toast to Fred Timson and the criminals of England!

- Rumpole!

- Oh, dear.

He's off again.

Well, if that's not unprofessional conduct, I don't know what is.

- Well done, Rumpole.

Up the workers!

Oh, cheer up, Henry.

Mr. Rumpole just made a joke.

Will he never learn?

I'm afraid, never.

I was rather surprised old Ollie turned up, I must say.

Well, he's had his apology, satisfaction.

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