Rumpole of the Bailey (1978) s02e01 Episode Script

It's all right.
He's got green hair and an earring.
(Inaudible) Well.
It's It's a mystery, I'm afraid.
What do you mean? I can tell you that.
Mystery is my business.
It means something for which there is no logical explanation.
If you'd like to wait in Mr Rumpole's room.
Of course, we do very little crime as ecclesiastical solicitors.
I'm told that this man, Rumpole, has tremendous experience of shoplifters.
- My brother is not a shoplifter.
- No, of course not.
- No.
- Take your coat off.
You won't feel the good of it when you go out.
(Rumpole) 'Mornings at 7:00 ' (Church bell) 'Or rather just past 10:30.
"'The hillside's dew pearled "'The lark's on the wing "'The snail's on the thorn God's in His heaven" 'With any luck at all, 'there's a little crime going on somewhere.
'Robert Browning, the Rumpole version.
'What's on today? 'Main course, a committal at Bow Street.
'Hor d'oeuvre, a conference with a vicar.
' Mordred is so absent-minded.
The number of times he's asked me to look for his spectacles.
And they're on the end of his nose! We must tell Mr Rumpole that.
(Rumpole) 'The trouble with vicars is 'they make the most terrible witnesses.
'We've all called them, haven't we? 'To tell the judge that the lad who mugged the old lady 'is a pillar of the local youth club, 'and coming on nicely at ping-pong.
'When you get that sort of evidence from gentlemen of the cloth, 'it adds two years to the sentence.
' That's an insult, Henry.
That was a very long case.
- Contact their solicitors.
- I'll have a go, sir.
- "The year's at the spring" - I saw a priest going in your room.
- My con.
Is that right? - Right, sir.
Your conversion? Is Number Three Equity Court your road to Damascus? Erskine-Brown, you've made a funny.
(Laughs) Very rich.
Most amusing.
The Man of God has come to seek my earthly advice.
A vicar in trouble.
I suppose it's the choir boys again.
(Rumpole) Not this time, Uncle Tom.
It's the sales.
I always thought it was a risk having choir boys.
They would be far safer with middle-aged lady sopranos.
I didn't think vicars were your line of country.
Of course they are! The unworldly cleric with his eyes fixed on eternity, caught nicking shirts.
- You find that comic? - No.
Perish the thought.
The reverend will have my most serious attention.
I shouldn't have thought you'd have a lot in common with your client.
- No one can say you're devout.
- Would you say not? Your religion is getting off as many villains as possible.
Let's say to keeping the prisons as empty as possible.
I am very religiously inclined to have fun with the prosecution.
Excuse me.
I must go to the Man of God.
- Oh, not you.
- What are you talking about? - Rumpole's defending a clergyman.
- Shoplifting at the sales.
A step up from your usual clientele.
Our waiting room is like a rogue's gallery.
One feels grateful for the odd dog collar.
- Coffee, Guthrie? - Oh, thank you.
We need more of Erskine-Brown's clients.
Property developers have such a beautiful sense of morality.
There is a lot to be said for simple larceny.
See you in church, Rumpole! - George, my dear fellow! - Morning, Rumpole.
You haven't forgotten about tonight? We're splitting a bottle at Pommeroys.
No.
I'm bringing a friend to dinner with you and Hilda.
You want to spend an evening with She Who Must Be Obeyed? - We fixed it up weeks ago.
- Yes, we did.
- No Pommeroys, then? - We might bring a bottle with us.
I have a little news.
I'd like you and Hilda to be the first to know.
Have you been indulging in brilliantine? We'll be there for 7:30, Rumpole.
Good morning, all.
I was, I suppose, a little confused.
A little preoccupied.
It is a tremendous honour.
To be nicked in the Hall of Food? He has been invited to preach in Interdenominational Week.
- At the cathedral.
- By the Bishop of Deptford.
We must make sure you don't let your public down.
Now, then, it was three sport shirts with collars, presumably.
- Do you wear that sort of shirt? - Oh, yes.
With the Lads' Brigade? On rambles around Ruislip? - He takes them to Epping Forest.
- Oh, I do apologise.
Now, Mr Skinner, when you were in the gents' haberdashery, your mind was on what, you say, exactly? - The problem of evil.
- Oh, really? Yes, you see, what puzzles the ordinary fellow is if God is all wise and perfectly good, then why did he put evil in the world? - May I suggest an answer.
- Please.
So ordinary fellows could pick up a few briefs round the Old Bailey! No, no.
- This may seem trivial to you.
- It is not trivial.
A man's reputation is never trivial.
I ask you both to take it seriously.
Mr Skinner, address your mind to one vital question.
How the hell did the three sport shirts in your shopping basket get there? I can't tell you.
I've prayed about it.
They leapt off the counter by the power of prayer? Yours seems to be an extremely literal faith.
May I remind you, Mr Skinner, that when you were asked for an explanation by the store detective, the best you could come up with was it was a mystery.
That's the best explanation one can give of the important things in life.
Are you suggesting my brother is guilty? Of course not.
I have complete faith in your brother's innocence.
Innocent he will be until 12 commonsensical old darlings, picked at random, find him otherwise.
Oh, I rather thought a quick hearing with the least possible publicity.
A quick hearing is as good as pleading guilty.
You might win with a jury? Juries are rather like God Almighty, Mr Skinner, totally unpredictable.
(Phone rings) Good day.
- We'll ask for a jury trial.
- Yes, yes.
Yes, Henry.
Oh, Mr Skinner when you are next at prayer, you might put in an application for a defence.
Yes, who is it? Yes, Hilda.
I haven't forgotten George is coming to dinner, and bringing a friend.
Oh, I don't know.
It might be a lady.
He's doused his head in brilliantine.
(Chuckles) Two pounds of cooking apples from the shop near the tube station.
I suppose so.
Any further orders? No, I won't be late.
Bye.
She Who Must Be Obeyed.
- Mr Rumpole.
- Oh, Miss Skinner.
You don't understand my brother.
I'm never at home with vicars.
- He's like a child.
- Oh, the Peter Pan of the pulpit.
I've always had to look after Mordred.
He would never have got anywhere without me.
Mordred never thinks about what he's doing.
Make that clear to the jury.
You should have kept a better eye on him.
Of course.
I should have been watching him like a hawk.
I blame myself.
(Mordred) Evelyn? Coming, dear.
I'm coming at once.
"Always keep tight hold of nurse, "for fear of finding something worse.
" Ah! There we go! We wanted you to be the first to know.
- Oh, I do love champagne.
- Nice of you to bring a bottle.
I love how it goes tickly up your nose.
We hardly get it often enough to notice.
Well, if we're all filled up I suppose it falls to me.
Accustomed as I am to public speaking Usually on behalf of the criminal classes.
I know what's expected of me.
You mean you're like the film star's fifth husband? You know what's expected, but you don't know how to make it new! (Laughs) Oh, yes.
Rather good that.
Here's to the happy couple.
Here's to us, Georgie.
(Laughing) Would you care for more Charlotte Russe, Mrs Tempest? Oh, Ida.
Do, please, call me Ida.
Well, er just a teeny-weeny scraping.
I don't want to lose my figure, otherwise he may not fancy me any more.
- There's no danger of that.
- What of you not fancying me? - I know you.
- Of you losing your figure.
She's as slim as a bluebell, isn't she? That depends on the size of the bluebell.
Oh, Horace, you are terrible! (Laughs) Why have you kept this terrible man from me? - I hope we see more of each other.
- When? - After we're married.
- Oh, yes, George.
Of course.
That will be nice.
Er let me top you up.
Lovely glasses.
They're so tasteful.
Georgie, isn't that a lovely, tasteful glass? They're export rejects from the Army and Navy stores.
Oh, lovely.
What whim of providence was it that led you to George Frobisher? Mrs Tempest, that is Ida, came as a guest to the Royal Borough.
That's where I've been putting up.
- You noticed me, didn't you, dear? - I did.
And I noticed him noticing me.
You know how it is with men, Hilda.
Sometimes I wonder if Rumpole notices me at all.
Of course! I notice you all the time.
I come home from work, and there you are.
We first spoke in the manageress' office.
We'd gone to register a complaint on bath water.
- Bath water? - There's not enough hot to fill the valleys, let alone cover the hills.
(Laughs) - George agreed with me.
- Well, we formed an alliance.
Oh, we hit it off at once.
We have so much in common.
- Oh, really? - Ballroom dancing.
What? Mrs Tempest, that is Ida, has cups for it.
George, you're a secret ballroom dancer? We're going for lessons together at Miss MacKay's Ecole de Dance in Rutland Gate.
Is your life to be devoted entirely to pleasure? (Laughs) Does Horace tango at all, Hilda? He's never been known to.
Crime is seriously cutting into my time for the tango.
It's such a pity, dear.
You don't know what you're missing.
- You'll want to powder your nose.
- No.
I don't think so.
- My nose isn't shiny, is it? - No, but Oh, you mean spend a penny? No, no! No.
No, that wasn't what I meant, actually.
But it is customary at this stage to leave the gentlemen alone.
Oh, you mean, you'd like a hand with the washing-up? Now, not too many naughty stories, boys.
I don't want you leading my Georgie astray.
(George) Charming.
Isn't she charming, Rumpole? Oh, your Mrs Tempest seems to have a certain vitality, George.
- She's an able businesswoman, too.
- Oh, really? She used to run a hotel.
Excellent business, I believe.
- Somewhere in Kent.
- Is that so? I thought after we're married she might take up a hotel again.
- Perhaps in the West Country.
- But what about you? Will you give up the Bar? Devote yourself to the veleta? I don't want to boast, but I thought I might go for a circuit judgeship.
- What? - In fact, I have already applied.
- In some rural area.
- A judge, George? - You a judge? - Yes.
It might suit you well.
You never were good in court! (Laughing) - Was it in Ramsgate? - What? Where your Mrs Tempest ran a small hotel? - Why do you ask? - No particular reason.
Cheers.
Horace seems a kind person.
(Hilda) Not when I ask him to carry the shopping basket.
- But he always defends.
- That's not because he's kind.
That's because he likes to tease judges.
You don't get much of a chance if you prosecute.
If only Rumpole would prosecute.
Then they might make him a judge.
Might they? He should be moving on.
He's done it all by now.
All the heavy crime.
He'll soon tell you all about it.
He loves talking about his old cases.
(Glass smashes) It's one of your lovely glasses.
It doesn't matter.
No, it really doesn't matter.
I'll get the dustpan.
- Don't do it, George.
- Don't be a judge? Don't be married.
Look, George, old chap, Your Honour, if Your Lordship pleases, have a bit of consideration.
- Where would you be leaving me? - As you are now.
Those peaceful moments.
The end of the day.
Those hours we spend over a bottle of Château Fleet Street from 5:30pm on in Pommeroys wine bar.
Ah, that wonderful oasis of peace that glides between the Bailey and the horrors of home life.
I'm very fond of you, Rumpole, but you're not someone with whom one can share everything.
- I'm not a dab hand at the two-step.
- I didn't say that! George, don't do it.
It's like pleading guilty.
For an indefinite sentence without parole.
- You're exaggerating.
- I am not.
I swear I am not.
Listen to me, George.
Do you know what happens on a Saturday morning when free men are having a nice lie-in, or wandering toward a glass of breakfast Chablis and a slow read of the obituaries? You will both set out with a list and an embroidered shopping basket.
Your wife will spend your hard-earned cash on things you haven't the desire to own, like Vim, saucepan scourers and J-cloths and Mansion polish.
When it's stuffed full, you will be asked to carry the damn pansy-Iooking thing home, like a native bearer! George, don't do it! - (Hilda) Rumpole? - She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Yes, Hilda.
You can carry in the coffee tray.
See what I mean? Do you see what I mean? Of course she won't do for George.
You think so? Why not? Noticing our glasses.
I'd thought she'd ask me how much they are.
£12.
50, please.
It's such bad form, noticing people's things.
All the profits of the Portsmouth rape trial, frittered away on Vim.
Wire wool.
Saucepan scourers.
Saucepan scourers all present and correct.
Butter, tea and bags and the eggs.
All right, Rumpole, you can carry the basket now.
Yes You get the fun of buying.
All I get is the hard labour! What do we do with all that Vim? Do we eat Vim? You would soon miss it, if it wasn't there.
(Rumpole) 'The Penge bungalow murders.
'The Cheltenham circus killing.
'Memories of my distant triumphs and disasters.
"'Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow "'For old and happy far-off things "'And battles long ago.
" 'Battles 'Long Iong ago.
'Ah, the Ramsgate arson case.
'Unexplained destruction of the Saracen's Head Hotel.
' Oh, have you seen George? - Frobisher? - Yes.
- No, he hasn't been in yet.
- Glass of wine? - I was waiting for Claude, actually.
- Claude? - Erskine-Brown.
- Oh! I keep forgetting.
"Claude" It makes me feel fond of him.
- Why are you waiting for him? - Well, we are engaged.
Ah, yes, so you are.
Yes Listen, are you sure you know enough about him? Yes.
One would want to know everything about someone before matrimony.
Go on.
Surprise me.
Tell me he married a middle-aged Persian contortionist.
It would make him far more interesting.
Hello, darling.
Rumpole's told me everything.
Rumpole, I have some news What do you mean, Phylli? - About your murky past.
- I haven't got one.
I was afraid of that.
Henry gave me the prosecution brief in the Queen versus the Reverend Skinner.
Oh, has he? It's a lot of fuss to make for a couple of shirts.
It isn't a couple of shirts.
It's three.
It's the principle.
When a man is a paragon of morality You think it's fun to pot him.
It'll be a most painful duty.
My heart bleeds for you! I shall be fascinated to see how you conduct the religious ceremony.
You've forgotten what my religion is having fun with the prosecution.
Ah, there he is! Excuse me.
George! George! At last, a case where Rumpole has got no defence.
- He'll have to plead guilty.
- It's against his religion.
We've just got time for one.
Er Miss Pichon-Longueville 1967.
- You celebrating, George? - In a way, yes.
We have a glass or two in the room now.
It's pleasant in the room.
We listen to the BBC's Overseas Service.
Old Victor Sylvester records requested from Nigeria.
Ballroom dancing is only cared for in the Third World.
- I'd like to talk to you.
- Sorry, Rumpole.
- It wouldn't do to keep Ida waiting.
- George! Yes, Mr Rumpole.
Red plonk, please, Peg.
Large glass.
Château Fleet Street.
I have nothing to celebrate.
(Rumpole) 'It's an extraordinary thing.
'It always looks like a wet Monday round the Inner London.
'Stuck in the desert of Newington Causeway 'with nowhere to go for steak and kidney pud.
'An unhappy sort of court.
Down the Old Kent Road, 'with all the cheeky Cockney sparrows 'turned into sad, silent figures 'waiting for the burglary to come on in court two.
'And juries look as if they relied on the work 'to eke out their Social Security.
' (Rumpole) Morning.
"When holy and devout religious men are at their beads "'Tis shame to draw them thence, So sweet is gentle contemplation.
" Nervous? No.
I'm strangely calm.
We are before Judge Bullingham.
- Judge who? - Bullingham.
Dearly beloved brethren, God is not on our side.
He has sent us Bullingham.
How do we explain that, vicar? Is that the Almighty's sense of humour? Are you telling us Judge Bullingham doesn't like parsons? God knows.
I doubt he has ever met one.
The Bull's leisure tastes run to watching court and wrestling.
He learns most from the wrestling.
Shall we enter the ring? (Rumpole) "'God moves in a mysterious way "'His wonders to perform.
" 'And nothing more mysterious 'than Roger Bullingham as a circuit judge in the Inner London.
'I can only suppose that Bull's unreasoned prejudices 'against all black persons, defence lawyers and probation officers 'comes from some deep psychological cause, 'or perhaps his mother, 'if such a creature can be imagined, 'was assaulted by a black probation officer 'on his way to give evidence for the defence.
' Your Honour, I am here to prosecute.
Who is for the defence? Mr Rumpole.
I have the honour to represent the Reverend Mordred Skinner.
Before you became a store detective, you were in the police.
- Yes, sir.
- Why did you leave the force? Pay and conditions were hardly satisfactory.
And that being so, you decided it would be more profitable to keep your eye on the lingerie than do battle with serious crime.
Are you suggesting, Mr Rumpole, this is not a serious crime? For many, the theft of three shirts may seem a mere triviality, but for the Reverend Mordred Skinner they represent the possibility of total ruin.
Disgrace and disaster.
My client's whole world hangs in the balance.
Mr Rumpole - It can't be decided by a judge alone.
- Mr Rumpole That is why we must cling to our most cherished institution, trial by jury, ladies and gentlemen, with our your fairness, common sense and knowledge.
Mr Rumpole, you should know your business.
This is not the time for making speeches.
You will have an opportunity at the end.
As Your Honour can make a speech after me, I thought it might be as well to make clear who the judges of fact in this case are.
Yes.
- Very well.
Get on with it.
- Certainly.
When you were in the shirt department you didn't see my client make off with the shirts? - No, sir.
- If he had, he would have told us.
Your Honour notices points in favour of the defence.
Then why did you follow him? The supervisor noticed there were shirts missing.
She said there was a reverend turning them over.
He might not told us that, if you hadn't asked the wrong question.
No question is wrong if it reveals the truth.
So, you don't know whether my client was carrying the shirts when he left? No.
- Did he have them on the staircase? - I only saw his head.
So, the first time you saw him with the basket was in the Hall of Food? That's right, sir.
Are you suggesting a basket full of shirts mysteriously materialised in your client's hand in the tinned-meat department? (Laughing) May I remind Your Honour what himself said? This is a serious case.
As you cross-examined, I was beginning to wonder.
Cross-examination is like walking the tightrope.
Is it? One gets on so much better if one isn't continually interrupted.
It was impossible for my client to have paid in the shirt department, wasn't it? - No.
There were two assistants.
- Oh, really? Young ladies? - Yes, sir.
- What were they doing? I can't recall.
Well, then, let me jog your memory.
(Rumpole) 'I mean let me hazard a guess.
' Were they not huddled together in an act of total recall of last night at the disco or the Palais de Hop? Were they not blind and deaf to the cries of shirt-buying clerics? Were they not totally oblivious? (Rumpole) 'That's right.
You know all about young lady non-assistants.
' Mr Batt, isn't that what they were doing? It may have been.
Is it surprising my client should take his purchases and go elsewhere in search of more attentive assistance? I followed him downstairs into the Hall of Food! In the witness box, my client will say that he intended to pay for his purchases, given the slightest opportunity.
(Mr Batt) I saw no signs of his attempting to do so! (Rumpole) Just as the ladies didn't attempt to take his money.
No, but It's a risky business going into your store.
You can't get served.
The only time anyone talks to you is to tell you that you are under arrest.
Mr Batt, did you see Mr Skinner make any attempt to pay for his shirts in the Hall of Food? No.
No, I didn't.
He didn't ask for them to be wrapped up with a pound of ham? (Laughs) This is not a music hall.
This is a serious case.
The Reverend's future may be at stake.
If Your Honour pleases.
What did Mr Skinner say when you stopped him? - Did he offer an explanation? - He said it was a mystery.
He added, Your Honour, that mystery was his business.
Mystery was his business.
I suggest we pursue the mystery at 2:10, members of the Jury.
Mr Morse, could you take Miss Skinner to the canteen? Or would you prefer the pub? A pie and a pint? - No.
Thank you.
- Very well.
Come along, vicar.
This way, Miss Skinner.
Now, then, what did you mean by that? "You can't call me to give evidence.
" I'll have to.
- I could not take the oath.
- Have you no religion? You don't like me.
You might have told me the truth.
You of all people.
It must mean something, wearing your collar back to front.
Truth is sometimes dangerous.
It should be approached cautiously.
Well, let me approach it cautiously.
I've noticed with women my wife, for example.
When we go out on our shopping expedition, She Who Must Be Obeyed has complete charge over the shopping basket.
She makes the decisions, like how much Vim goes into it.
When all the shopping is finished, I get the job of carrying it home.
Simple faith is far more important than the constant scramble after unimportant facts.
That's what the lives of the saints tell us.
My simple faith tells me that your sister had that shopping basket in the shirt department.
Does it? When Batt approached you in the Hall of Food, you were carrying the basket she'd given to you.
- Perhaps.
- Your sister took those shirts.
And put them into the basket while you were thinking about your sermon.
- Don't you like mysteries? - Not much.
I could tell you a story.
You may not find it helpful.
Oh, try me.
She was a pretty child.
Difficult to believe it now.
She was always attracted to bright things.
Boiled sweets.
Red apples.
Jewellery from Woolworths.
As she grew older, it became worse.
She would take things she couldn't possibly need.
Like spectacles and bead handbags, cigarette cases, although she never smoked.
She was like a magpie.
I thought she had improved, but I do try and watch her as much as I can but on that day, I was involved with my sermon.
I have no need of such shirts.
I may be old-fashioned, but I always wear a dog collar.
Even on your rambles.
Even so, I believe she did it out of love.
Those are the facts.
They are of no importance to anyone except our immediate family.
That is what I will say, if I take oath on the Bible.
- You were prepared to lie to me.
- There is a difference.
I have the greatest respect for you, but I've never mistook you for Almighty God.
- Tell the truth.
She'll get a fine.
- No.
She couldn't bear it.
But you'd give up your whole life? - It's the least I can do for her.
- Sweet Jesus! - I don't know how I keep my temper.
- I sympathise.
He found His ideas irritated people dreadfully.
Particularly lawyers.
- He won't go into the witness box.
- What do we do? What, indeed? Convince the jury there's not enough evidence.
- Can you do that? - With the Bull charging against me? - I suggest - What? Pray for a miracle.
Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury, there is a golden thread that runs throughout British justice.
It is this the prosecution must prove its case.
The defence needs to prove nothing.
Mr Rumpole The Reverend Mordred Skinner need not move to the witness box, unless the prosecution have produced evidence to show that he intended to steal and not pay in another department! (Judge) Mr Rumpole! A man is forced to prove his innocence.
Our fathers have defied kings for their principles.
They forced King John to sign Magna Carta.
They sent King Charles to the block for it! And now it has been handed down.
Even to the Inner London Sessions, Newington Causeway.
- (Judge) If you would let me - Now it is in your hands! Mr Rumpole, I entirely agree with what you say.
But I shall direct the jury accordingly.
(Rumpole) 'Now I know how the Israelites felt when the sea parted.
'Or the amazement of the disciples when the water darkened 'and smelt of the grape.
'His Honour, Judge Bullingham, 'is about to find for the defence.
' (Judge) Mr Erskine-Brown, what is it? Your Honour, surely There is ample evidence of guilt.
Have you proved that Mr Skinner wouldn't have paid? (Rumpole) 'Most rightful judge.
' - Perhaps not.
- "Perhaps not" is not good enough.
(Rumpole) 'Most learned judge.
' When asked to explain (Judge) The defence does not have to explain.
(Rumpole) 'Oh, upright judge! ' He did explain.
He said it was a mystery.
That is hardly an explanation, Mr Erskine-Brown, is it? Of anything.
(Rumpole) 'A Daniel come to judgment! ' If he had meant to pay He probably forgot all about it.
Clergymen are notoriously absent-minded.
Mr Erskine-Brown, is there something else? Even you may not have realised it, but you've just witnessed a miracle! The natural malice of the Bull quelled by the rule of law.
I was reconciled to losing.
I don't think my sister would have stood by me.
She couldn't have put up with the disgrace.
- I should have been alone.
- You would have been out of a job.
I heard the rustle of an unfrocking.
It might have been restful.
Not to have to pretend to any sanctity.
Not to pretend to be different or better.
Just the same as all your clients.
My clients? Don't long for a life of crime.
You don't have the talent for it.
We can go now.
You're quite free to go.
Miss Skinner, I told your brother it was a miracle.
You're much too religious, Mr Rumpole.
I thought the judge was extremely fair.
- Better put your mac on.
- All right.
Come for tea in the rectory.
Alas, dear lady, I have so little time for pleasure.
Say goodbye, Mordred.
Come along, Mr Morse.
Goodbye, Mr Rumpole.
You see, it was entirely a family matter.
- Everyone's waiting for you.
- Oh, Miss Trant! I'm sorry.
I was lost for a minute.
Lost in my old, forgotten cases.
"Old, unhappy far-off things And battles long ago.
" Do you keep things? Mementoes? Locks of hair? Bundles of letters tied up with ribbon? - No.
Not really.
- Good.
I have still got my first brief from when I prosecuted you.
Oh, yes.
When I outwitted you.
(Laughs) Burn it.
Forget the past.
Look to the future.
- Right.
- Mmm.
Are you coming to this party for George? Yes, of course.
George, he'll have a lot to celebrate.
(Chattering) - Can I give you some more? - Oh, yes.
- That was a monstrous win.
- Oh, was it? Bullingham behaved abominably.
Rubbish! He gave you a taste of what it feels like for the defence.
- It was a miracle you got off.
- It may have seemed like that to you.
It's possible that justice was done, after all.
- I don't believe a word of it.
- Oh, ye of little faith! Oh, quiet Sorry.
Sorry.
It's well known amongst lawyers that the finest advocate never makes the best judge.
(Laughing) It's the glory of the advocate to be opinionated, brash hectoring, partisan, rude, cunning and unfair.
- Rumpole! - Bullingham, Erskine-Brown! The ideal judge, however, is detached and courteous, patient, painstaking and, above all things, quiet.
(Applause) These virtues are to be found personified in the latest edition to our circuit judges.
(AIl) Here! Circus judges, Rumpole calls them.
So, would you please raise your glasses to, His Honour, Judge George Frobisher? (AIl) Judge George Frobisher! - Well done.
- Good luck.
Thank you, Harold.
Coupled with the name of Mrs Ida Tempest.
- No, Rumpole, no.
- What do you mean no? She should share your triumphs.
You can give us an exhibition tango.
Is she keeping the Moet on ice for you? Mrs Tempest left the Royal Borough last week.
I have no means to find her.
- (Man) Speech.
- Yes, I'm coming.
(Chattering) I'm totally unprepared to say anything.
- I think he's sweet.
- Lovely dancer, too, I'm told.
You're joking! I have long felt the need to retire from the practice of the Bar Did he have a practice at the Bar? Thank you, Uncle Tom.
to escape from the benevolent despotism of Henry, now our senior clerk Can you do a careless driving tomorrow at Croydon? No, Henry, I can't.
(Laughing) I have long considered applying for a circuit judgeship in a rural area.
Where are they sending you? Glorious Devon? I think they're starting me off in Luton.
I hope I will have the pleasure of you all appearing before me.
- Where are they sending him? - (Yells) Luton, Uncle Tom! - Luton, glorious Luton! - Ssh! Henry! Naturally, as a judge, as one, however humble, of Her Majesty's Judges, certain standards will be expected of me.
No more carousing in Pommeroys with Horace Rumpole.
No, well I mean to try do my best and to live up to those standards.
That's all.
Thank you.
(Applause) I am sorry to hear about Mrs Tempest.
- It was all your fault.
- My fault? I didn't say anything.
Discretion is my middle name.
When I brought her to dinner, she recognised you.
She didn't say anything.
She's a very remarkable woman.
I was the junior counsel for her former husband.
I think he led her on.
She made a good impression in the witness box.
And on me, but she felt you'd be bound to tell me.
- She felt that.
- So she told me first.
(AII chanting) We want the speech! We want the speech! We want the speech! Well, if you insist.
(Cheering) As the oldest member, I can recall this place before CH Wystan, that Rumpole's revered father-in-law, took over.
It was in old Barnaby Hawks' time.
The young men were myself, Everett Longbarrow, and old Willoughby Grime, who became Chief Justice of Tonga, where he went on circuit, wearing a battered opera hat and dispensed rough justice (AIl) Under a bong tree! - Mrs Tempest got three years.
- Yes.
Her former husband got seven.
- I don't think she struck the match.
- I wasn't able to take the risk.
You haven't noticed a smell of burning at the Royal Borough? No, but by then the Lord Chancellor's secretary told me of the appointment.
It doesn't do for a judge's wife to have served three years.
- Do you have to be a judge? - I thought about that.
You know, at my age, Rumpole, it's difficult to learn a new trade.
(AIl) On grass with his leaded bugle! (Uncle Tom) Yes! Old Willoughby was terrified he'd been spotted, you see, because this was years before the George, drink up.
There'll be other ladies turning up at the Royal Borough.
I doubt it.
And every night I shall think, "If only I hadn't taken her to Rumpole's, "I might never have know.
" Don't you see? We might have been happy.
Sometimes, it will be difficult to forgive you.
What did I do? I didn't do anything.
You knew, Rumpole.
That's what you did.
You knew about it.
(Uncle Tom) Trying to get an golf ball in (AIl) With a mashie niblick! (Laughing) That was as good a training as any for the Bar.
Of course, old CH Wystan never took silk.
Now we have a QC (AIl) MP.
(Uncle Tom) And Dear George Frobisher is now a circus I beg his pardon a circuit judge.
For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow For he's a jolly good fellow And so say all of us They've never made George Frobisher a judge! Oh, in my view, an excellent appointment.
I shall expect a good record of acquittals at Luton Crown Court.
- When will you be a judge? - Don't ask silly questions, Hilda.
When sentencing, I'd have to say, "There but for the Grace of God goes Horace Rumpole.
" I can imagine what she must be feeling like.
- She? - She.
- The cat that swallowed the cream.
- Oh.
Her Honour, Mrs Judge.
Oh, she'll be quite the thing.
- No.
She's gone.
- Gone, Rumpole? - Gone where? - Just gone.
What did George have to say about that? "Cried and the world cried, too "Mine's the treasure "Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.
" If he wants my opinion, George is well out of it.
- I don't think he does.
- What? Want your opinion.
You know, I'm not sure I should have taken up as a lawyer.
Whatever do you mean, Rumpole? Perhaps I should have been a vicar.
Have you been getting at the gin, Rumpole? Faith, not facts.
Is that what we need? George Frobisher has always been a bad influence on you, keeping you out drinking.
I'm glad he's going to be a judge.
Perhaps I will see more of you.
I'd never have known all these facts about people if I hadn't been a lawyer.
Of course you should've been a lawyer.
Why? Well, if you hadn't taken up as a lawyer you never would have met me.
Oh, that's true.
Damn it, that's very true.