Rumpole of the Bailey (1978) s02e02 Episode Script
Rumpole and the Case of Identity
(Shop bell rings) What can I do for you? (Screams) (TV) 'Have you seen this man? 'Were you in Queensbury Road, Walthamstow 'around 8:45pm on Tuesday, March 4th? 'The police want to interview a tall, well-built man 'who was wearing a tartan cap 'when the manager of an off-licence was attacked.
'He was also wearing red driving gloves.
'The tartan cap was similar ' I'm off, Freddie.
One for the road? No, not really.
It's Betty.
She'll be waiting.
Eagerly? - You give Freddie's love to her.
- Yeah, will do.
- What time are you on tomorrow? - Day off.
- Ta-ra! - Cheers.
So long.
(Inaudible) (Man) We'd like you to form a line, please.
Just form a line.
(Inaudible) Right, sir.
Thank you, gentlemen.
If you'd like to wait there.
Stay here, sir.
Thank you very much, everybody.
Just hold on a few seconds.
(Man) Would I wear my cap, Mr Rumpole? Not to cut up a geezer in an off-licence.
That's like leaving my visiting card.
If I ever get you out of this hotel, you might consider reading for the Bar.
You have put your finger on the bull point of the defence.
Why would anyone wear a comical cap, when out on an errand of malicious wounding? - Unless - They wanted to be recognised.
Unless they wanted someone to be recognised.
I'm not worried, Mr Rumpole.
I am in the clear.
Nobody in Brixton is in the clear, old love.
Not until they hear the magic words "not guilty".
(Laughs) Your alibi depends on the evidence of your governor.
Well, he's very good to me, Mr Rumpole, and the wife.
He loaned us the money for our house deposit.
Yeah, a very generous-minded individual.
"Freddie Allbright will see you right" is his motto.
Biggest mini-cab owner in London.
You were with him all evening? Yeah.
He took me out for a curry.
How can he fix the date? It was the evening before his wife's birthday.
- He bought her a gift.
- What was it? An evening bag.
For his ladies' night down at the Masons.
What time did this job in the off-licence take place? 8:45.
Oh, well, 8:45 on 4th March, I was with Freddie Allbright.
He was having tandoori chicken, and showing me this evening bag.
My alibi is cast iron.
I'm not sure if I like cast-iron alibis.
They sink the quickest to the bottom of the sea.
Hmm.
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Or did the stabbing in the Walthamstow off-licence? I wonder.
Ah, Rumpole.
You're burning the midnight oil.
Claude, how would you describe me? Describe you? Why Describe the Rumpole you saw coming into Chambers this morning.
Short and fat.
You mean well filled out.
Generously proportioned.
No, I'd say fat.
Look, there's something going on down the passageway.
How can you be sure it was me? It had your muffler and your dreadful hat on.
Exactly! That's it! You recognised the hat! Will you look at this? It's a question of Chambers' security.
Yes, all right.
- Short and fat? - Ssh! Well, what about it? Guthrie's room.
Is he working late too? (Whispers) No, he's not.
I knocked.
Nobody answered.
You see, the door's locked.
(Whispers) He always locks it.
He's afraid someone will read his All England Reports.
There's a light under the door.
My God, you're right.
Why are we whispering? (Whispers) What? Ssh! I heard a sound from inside.
Mice.
These old places are overrun with mice.
But it was more like giggling.
Even mice enjoy a joke occasionally.
Guthrie's just left his light on.
Have you been working too hard? I have been snowed under recently.
That's it.
Come on, and have a nightcap at Pommeroys.
A man's got to be careful when he hears mice giggling.
(Erskine-Brown) Could you spare me a moment? - Morning.
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.
How did it go at the Sessions? I got three years.
Possession of cannabis.
- I bet the judge drank his whisky.
- I suppose he did.
- Still, you did your best.
- Oh, thank you.
- You were defending? - As ever, yes.
- If you could type this for me.
- What's this? "Whereas the plaintiffs, the Gargantua Trust Company Limited, "are landlords of the said premises" You can read it.
"The defendant is in default of the rent to the extent of £208.
13.
"A notice to quit has been given.
" - Whose side are we on? - The side that sends us the work.
She got a notice to quit for a measly £208.
13 from Gargantua Trust Company Limited.
I don't imagine they're short of a bob.
You're not required to judge the case.
That can be left to the Bloomsbury and Marylebone Court.
I bet she's an elderly widow.
Yes, with 23 starving children.
Just type it out, Angela.
No cheques! - Henry, is Mr Featherstone in yet? - I'm expecting him.
Will you just get on? Guthrie used to be in here at 9:30.
Now he descends on us at lunchtime.
Perhaps he's had an all-night sitting.
(Guthrie) All-night sitting.
I don't know how long I will stand it.
(Erskine-Brown) Really? What great affair of state were you discussing? Some earth-shaking measure for the protection of cod.
I want to raise the question of security in Chambers.
- A light was left on in here.
- I must have forgotten.
I heard a sound from this room.
- How extraordinarily odd.
- Rumpole thought it was mice.
(Laughs) Really? There's another matter I wanted to raise.
(Groans) Oh Another? That new girl, Angela, who does the typing Yes.
Henry says that she's an asset.
I don't know anything about her.
Diane just couldn't cope single-handed.
The girl objects to typing out a landlord's statement of claim.
She only wants to type on behalf of the tenant.
It adds horror to the Bar, if cases are decided in the typing pool.
I really don't see how you can dignify these girls, Diane and Angela, was it? with a title of typing pool.
Henry tells me she's good.
Apparently, she's indispensable.
Well, it should be brought to your attention, as Head Of Chambers.
(Knock on door) Come.
- Oh, thank you, Henry.
- Excuse me, Erskine-Brown.
(Guthrie groans) I need to speak to you.
Oh, well, I'm extremely grateful to you, Claude, really.
Perhaps form a sub-committee to deal with the mice.
Right.
Now, then, Henry.
It's that new girl, Angela.
She's getting on my wick.
Really, Henry? You surprise me.
Mr Erskine-Brown was just saying she's been an enormous help.
She wants to turn the place into a cooperative.
She thinks the girls should be in on Chambers' fees.
Workers' participation, Henry.
It's bound to come.
They want the papers in that new drugs case, sir.
You'll be prosecuting Mr Rumpole.
They want the advice by tomorrow morning.
No.
Not by tomorrow.
I have something on tonight.
Really, sir? Another all-night sitting? Yes, I'm afraid so.
It's a bloody awful Parliament! "Workers' participation.
It's bound to come.
" Not in this Chambers it bloody isn't! (Phone rings) What is this place? The House of Commons? The man was wearing a tartan cap, scarlet and yellow.
God knows what it was.
Colours of the East Walthamstow clan MacTavish.
It's my first big junior brief for the prosecution and it's a winner.
Guthrie Featherstone has completely mislaid his marbles.
I can't wait to show this to Rumpole.
I'm being led by soapy Joe Truscott.
He is extremely soapy.
How will Rumpole get out of this one? - Out of which one, Portia? - (Phyllida) Oh, Rumpole.
- The Dave Anstey case.
- Ah, yes.
Clear identification.
Three witnesses saw you on the way to the off-licence.
Yes, I am bound like the great Houdini.
Chained, padlocked into an iron chest and sunk to the bottom of the sea.
I suppose with one leap Houdini was free.
No.
In this case, he was probably never heard of again.
(Hollers) Peggy, a bottle of cooking claret, please.
- Take a look at that.
- What? Last night's debate in Parliament.
Look at the end.
I've marked it in red.
"After the defeat of the motion to preserve the ancient grasslands, "the house rose at 10:30.
" Is that it? What staggering news! Shall we flee the country? Guthrie told me that last night Thank you.
he was in an all-night sitting on the Cod Fisheries Bill.
What's peculiar about that? - It's a collapse of an alibi.
- Exactly.
Not at all.
My God! Portia of the prosecution, suspicious of everyone.
It's not surprising that QC MPs are forgetting what day it is.
They must be constantly under the impression that they're discussing cod.
Keep your mind on the Walthamstow off-licence stabbing.
Do you know who owns it? Who owns the off-licence? I don't know.
I could find out.
Do do that, Miss Trant.
It's more important than the life of our Head Of Chambers.
(Tuts) (Hilda hums) She Who Must Be Obeyed.
(Mutters) Has she taken leave of her senses? Hilda, what are you doing? - I'm practising my carols.
- Who put you up to that? Marigold Featherstone asked if I would be interested.
The Bar Choral Society take on wives.
A gaggle of barristers' wives giving tongue? How perfectly ghastly! In praise of God.
It is going to be Christmas.
Sometimes I wonder whether God enjoys Christmas.
Marigold Featherstone is not a happy woman.
Who is these days? It's Guthrie.
Guthrie Featherstone.
If you ask me, that marriage is dying for lack of attention.
You stand at choir practice when you should be praising to the Lord, gossiping about the Featherstone marriage.
It is not gossip.
I've told you she is not a happy woman.
It's difficult being married to a politician.
(Mutters) Or a part-time mezzo contralto.
- What did you say? - Just reading.
That marriage is cracking up, Rumpole.
- Yes.
- It's your fault.
Yes My fault! Guthrie is out late.
I know he has his all-night sittings.
Even when he hasn't, you keep him at Pommeroys wine bar for hours, boozing.
- I do? - Marigold asks him where he's been.
He says, "Old Rumpole was talking in Pommeroys.
I couldn't get away.
" "Old Rumpole.
" Is that what he calls me? Did you do that tonight? There wouldn't have been much point coming back here.
Not with you hitting the high notes with Marigold.
Eugh! You want to be very careful, Rumpole.
Be careful that you don't break up two marriages.
O come all ye faithful Joyful and triumphant O come ye (Mutters indistinctly) Oh, thank God they've got somewhere at last! (Phyllida) Can you describe the man who attacked you? - He had a red cap.
- Yes.
Apart from the red cap.
(Mutters) Yes.
Come on, Portia.
He was tall.
Big built.
(Mutters) Like about 20 million others.
- Did you say something, Mr Rumpole? - No, My Lord.
What about his hair? He had long sideburns.
A sort of brown colour, what I could see of it.
(Whispers) Thank you, Mr O'Neil.
Would you remain there? Ahem.
My client has no sideburns at all.
No, he hasn't.
Mr Anstey, turn to the jury.
Mr Rumpole, I'm sure you don't need reminding, but we live in the age of the electric razor.
(Rumpole) 'Oh, dear.
A judge who makes jokes.
' My Lord? Sideburns can be shaved off, if it's convenient to do so.
You said the man you saw had a sort of brown colour.
What sort of brown? Blackish brown? Ginger brown? I didn't have time to notice.
- A matter of seconds? - Yes.
So my client is on trial for a few seconds.
It will be longer by the time you've finished, Mr Rumpole.
If Your Lordship pleases.
The judge is giving Rumpole a rough time.
We're on a winner.
I'm not so sure.
A rough time is exactly what Rumpole thrives on.
Mr Rumpole, as you know perfectly well, motive is irrelevant at a criminal prosecution.
- (Man) How's it going, Mr Rumpole? - Mr Rumpole, this is Freddie Allbright.
I'm Dave's governor.
"Allbright will see you right.
" That's my motto.
Our alibi witness? Certainly.
Alibi ready and waiting, anytime you need it.
We must look after young Dave, and Mrs Anstey, of course.
I'm Dave's wife, Betty.
Lovely girl, Betty.
Exceptionally lovely girl.
- Nice to have met you.
- What are the chances? (Rumpole) I can't talk to witnesses.
We'll call you on Monday.
I can't go in there, Mr Rumpole.
Not to have everyone staring at me.
- Don't upset yourself.
- Is Dave all right? As well as can be expected.
He'd appreciate a visit.
- Oh, I dunno.
- I promised the young lady lunch.
We better go.
We don't want a lawyer nicking our table at the Savoy, do we? (Rumpole) No, of course not.
- I got that information for you.
- What? - The landlord of the off-licence.
- Ah! It's a company called Allbright Motors Limited.
Your client could have told you that.
Thank you, Miss Trant.
You've been the most tremendous help.
It's quite all right.
(Tuts) Sorry.
I didn't know you were in today.
Could I borrow "Phipson on Evidence"? That's pretty dull reading, isn't it, for a gorgeous girl like you? Rumpole is objecting to our putting in a witness' statement.
Still down the Bailey? Yes, thank God, with some decent refreshers.
Oh.
Pity.
We might have had lunch tomorrow.
Up in Soho.
The Trat.
I don't think so.
What would Marigold say? I'm hardly under her eagle eye at lunchtime.
You mean Erskine-Brown might cut up rough.
- We are going out together, yes.
- Oh, really? - Where does he take you out? - To Covent Garden.
It's terribly expensive.
That's why I have to collect as many refreshers.
He never takes you dancing? There's a new place opened up in Covent Garden.
Fridays.
Hamburgers and a disco.
Get Claude to take you with all the BPs.
What on earth are they? Beautiful people.
Like you, Miss Trant.
(Laughs) You know, I love those old movies where the girl librarian takes her glasses off, and James Stewart sees her in an entirely new light.
- Well, thanks for the "Phipson".
- Oh, any time at all.
What is that perfume you're wearing? Old books.
(Laughs) Old books! (Rumpole) If an alibi comes unstuck, everything comes unstuck.
Then, they may not believe a single word you say.
(Dave) Freddie ain't got no axe to grind.
Allbright Motors owns the off-licence.
- Never! - You didn't know that? No, I didn't.
Does it make any difference? I don't know.
Paddy picked you out at the identity parade.
- Are you sure you've never seen him? - Never! Someone must have told him about you and your remarkable head gear.
Do you trust Freddie Allbright? You must be joking! The things he's done for me a big bonus, a canteen of cutlery.
- And a fur coat.
- A what? I was wondering where your wife got it from.
If we don't call the alibi evidence, won't the prosecution comment? - They've got Mr Allbright's statement.
- Let soapy Joe comment.
He'll be left with a weak case of identification.
I want you to call the governor.
He's been like a father to me.
Think about it, and then I'll need your written instructions.
What sort of coat exactly? God knows, but several rare animals gave up their lives for it.
Well, my Betty works.
She saved up for it.
You've got to call the governor.
Look, please.
Think about it.
(Rumpole) Thank you.
La donna è mobile Qual piuma al vento Muta d'accento E di pensiero - What a magnificent performance.
- Splendid.
Sempre un amabile Leggiadro viso In pianto o in riso à menzognero - Tired? - No, not really.
Why don't we dance? - Whatever for? - Well, we never do.
There's a new place opened here.
Fridays.
All the BPs go there.
- All the what? - Beautiful people.
(Disco music) (Phyllida) I just don't think Guthrie's very well.
No? No.
He seems to think he's James Stewart.
- James who? - (Yells) Stewart! Look.
- Angela! - Who's she dancing with? Apparently with herself.
No, she's not.
She's with that rather violent shirt.
Who is he? I can't see.
It's dark in here.
It's rather fun.
Ah, they're going.
(Phyllida) Good heavens! It can't be.
- Phylli, this is appalling.
- It's Guthrie Featherstone.
Our Head Of Chambers out dancing with the typing pool.
(Hums) Oh! Excuse me.
I'm on the way to the Bailey.
- It's Marigold.
- Marigold? Marigold Featherstone.
Remember me? Oh, of course, yes.
Guthrie's room is down the passage.
No, he's not in.
Whenever I ring up, he's not in.
- Perhaps I can give him a message.
- Do you handle divorce? Ah, only rarely, and then with a strong pair of tongs.
I want you to act for me, if it should come to that.
If it should come to what, Mrs Marigold? Divorce.
Guthrie's behaving extremely oddly.
He's never there That can be an advantage in married life.
I am married to someone who is always there.
- I must rush.
- I saw him with a girl.
I saw them from a top of a bus.
They were arm in arm, looking into Peter Jones' window.
Soft furnishings.
When I tackled him, he denied it.
Now how can you be sure it was Guthrie? What could you see from the top of a bus? The top of his head? I'm sure it was Guthrie.
He had on his black jacket.
There you see, Mrs Marigold.
That's just how easily mistakes can be made.
He had a black jacket, so you assumed it was Guthrie.
Anybody can wear that or a cap.
Do I make myself clear? Not in the least.
In any case, I'm a member of Guthrie's chambers.
I couldn't act for you.
It would be embarrassing.
If it comes to divorce, I want it to be as embarrassing as possible.
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.
- Good morning, Mrs Anstey.
- Usher.
- Yes, Mr Rumpole.
That young lady with the fur coat on.
Bring her in when I say.
Don't give her time to take it off.
- Morning.
- Morning.
- Good morning.
- Morning.
Morning What's Rumpole up to now? Fighting desperately to undo the knots, I should imagine.
(AIIbright) 8:45? Yeah, of course I was with Dave at 8:45.
I took him out for a curry at 8:00.
We were together until 9:30.
(Rumpole) Can you fix the date? - Absolutely.
My wife's birthday.
- (Rumpole) And what date is that? March 5th.
Same every year.
I'd got her this evening bag.
I told Dave about it the next day.
- (Rumpole) The next day? - When we went out for curry.
- (Judge) That would be March 6th.
- That's right.
I wanted to ask you about the day before your wife's birthday.
- The evening of March 4th.
- March 4th? I don't know what Dave was doing.
No.
I tell a lie.
Oh, do you, Mr Allbright? Was that Tuesday, March 4th? - Yes.
- Dave had the night off.
He had the night off before we met.
So you don't know what Mr Anstey was doing on the night of the 4th? No, My Lord.
Mr Rumpole, you may like to remind the jury that the stabbing was on the night of the 4th.
(Whispers) I'll leave that to you, old darling.
Collapse of stout alibi.
Mr Allbright Usher.
did you not sign a statement making it clear that you were with my client on the evening of March 4th? I might have done, yeah.
My Lord, is my friend entitled to cross-examine his own witness? - If the witness is hostile, yes.
- He suggests he's hostile? No.
He's hostile to the truth! (Judge) If there's an inconsistent statement, he may be cross-examined.
If you think that's wise, Mr Rumpole.
I'm obliged, Your Lordship.
Mr Allbright, is your company the landlord of the off-licence premises where Paddy was stabbed? We own a lease to the off-licence, yeah.
- So Paddy was working for you? - He might have been.
Was he putting his hand in the till? Did someone have to teach him a lesson? Someone? Who are you suggesting it may be? Someone in a cap, like that usually worn by my client.
- Why would I do that? - (Rumpole) Usher.
(Whispers) Bring that woman in.
Mr Allbright, are you friendly with my client's wife, Betty? (AIIbright) I'm like a father to both of them.
(Rumpole) While Mr Anstey has been in custody, have you been seeing Betty? I've taken her out of herself.
Does taking her out of herself include putting her into an expensive fur coat? The one she's wearing now? I might have lent her a couple of bob.
Yes.
Thank you, Mrs Anstey.
Mr Allbright, has it always been your intention to have my client convicted? Not necessarily, no.
I wanted to help Dave.
Is that why you went back on your statement? Or were you trying to tell the truth? I put March 4th because Dave asked me to.
- (Rumpole) He asked you? - I'm sorry I can't help you.
I'm sorry I can't help you, Allbright, in your efforts to have your mistress's husband put inside for years! Mr Rumpole, is there any basis for that suggestion? My learned friend could call the lady to rebut it.
She is outside the court.
You sent your hireling in a thoroughly recognisable cap to teach Paddy a lesson! Paddy then identified Dave Anstey as the man wearing it.
When your client was picked out at the identification parade, he wasn't wearing a cap.
My Lord, it was no longer necessary.
Perhaps you can tell us why.
Who put the frighteners on Paddy to persuade him to identify Dave Anstey as the man who had stabbed him? Or didn't he know who you wanted fitted up with your caper? "Fitted up" makes it sound like a cupboard.
Then shall I say framed, Allbright? That sounds like a picture.
In this case, the wrong picture entirely.
- So, with one leap Houdini was free.
- Right.
Not guilty.
Majority verdict.
Out four hours.
It was a damn close-run thing.
(Laughs) Freddie Allbright didn't look too happy.
It was a smashing cross-examination.
You should have him deal with a hostile witness.
It's high time justice was done to you.
Justice? You should have been Head Of Chambers years ago.
As senior man, it was yours.
Everybody said so at the time.
I don't remember any overt support from you then, Erskine-Brown.
Well, Guthrie Featherstone MP arrived in all his glory, and he took silk Betwixt the election and my hopes.
It was a shame.
We didn't know the truth about Guthrie Featherstone then.
He's having it off with that female communist in the typing pool.
Young Angela? You astonish me.
We simply must have a reliable Head Of Chambers.
Not someone who's involved in an unsavoury scandal.
What would a savoury scandal be? - Fried on toast with an anchovy.
- Oh, Rumpole, really! Seats? Everyone's noticed things about Guthrie.
What do you mean, things? There's definite signs of unreliability.
The point is we ask Guthrie to resign, and make way for you.
I do think you'd make a super head.
Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP is not an experienced Labour-Conservative member for nothing.
He hogs the middle of the road in case someone tries to pass him.
Maybe he's not the resigning kind.
Then, we simply move to a chambers in Lincoln's Inn.
- I've sounded out Henry - Have you had any time for work? - Horace, nobody's - (Phyllida) Ssh! Nobody will work with a head who is having it off with a revolutionary from the typing pool.
(Phyllida) Ahem! See you tomorrow.
OK.
Bye.
Do you see? I would like to know what evidence you have for making these extraordinary allegations.
Claude and I saw Guthrie dancing in Fridays with Angela.
Guthrie was wearing a multi-coloured shirt with tigers on it.
(Laughs) Then it couldn't have been Guthrie.
- Horace, it was.
- It was.
- Mistaken identity.
- I saw him with my own eyes.
Ah, well, as Miss Trant learnt in court, the evidence of one's own eyes can be extremely misleading.
Guthrie Featherstone simply does not wear multi-coloured shirts with or without tigers.
Tigers! Ha ha! (Knock on door) "What immortal hand or eye "could frame thy fearful symmetry?" (Growls) Oh Henry said you wanted to see me.
(Coughs) - Don't you want to see me? - No.
Not particularly.
- You're in need of a little help.
- I'm all right.
Are you? They're closing in, old darling.
Your wife consulted me to start a divorce.
- You? - Mmm-hm.
Why did she consult you for? No doubt to cause the maximum havoc.
Erskine-Brown alleges that he saw you jitterbugging.
With Angela? Lord Erskine-Brown suspects you of having a Red in the bed.
It's true.
It's all perfectly true, Rumpole! You plead guilty? Well, as a matter of fact, it's all terribly innocent.
Jumping around in Fridays until 2:00am and back to her narrow bed.
Then off to breakfast in the House of Commons.
- That's the worst part.
- What? Breakfast in the House of Commons.
You aren't cut out for that existence.
No.
The physical strain is exhausting.
It must come as a shock to someone used to debates and golf.
Golf? It happened when I was playing golf with Mr Justice Vosper.
- Do you know him? - Only in court.
Never on the green.
He was talking about the death penalty.
Nostalgia, I assume.
I sliced my ball into the rough.
I went behind this low patch of scrub.
And there was this boy and girl making love.
Not undressed, you understand.
Just kissing, laughing.
I realised that there was an entire world that I totally missed.
- I told the judge I was taken ill.
- Well, you were.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in Richmond in search of adventure.
You drew a blank.
Next morning, I walked into Chambers, and there was Angela.
She's only 21, Rumpole.
Can you imagine it? With difficulty.
What is that military uniform she affects? Oh! An American combat shirt.
It's a joke to show her pacifist convictions.
Oh, highly amusing.
You set out to deliberately destroy your position in Chambers? Deliberately? Well, locking yourself in this room the other night.
Why? Oh.
Well, er we couldn't go back to Oakley Street.
Her flatmate was entertaining a chap from the BBC.
Barristers' chambers have been put to many uses, but only rarely as a setting for a French farce.
You were very determined, weren't you? Telling Marigold a pack of lies, carefully informing Miss Trant, and, therefore, Erskine-Brown of that Palais de Hop where you're to be found tripping the light fantastic.
Keeping your dancing apparel in Chambers.
Oh, yes, that's a That's a birthday present from Angela.
I couldn't take it back to Marigold.
What are you going to do with it? Send Henry to the launderette? Hmm.
I don't know, Rumpole.
What do you suggest? Give it to a steel band.
Look, old darling, you can't do it.
- Do what exactly? - Escape.
You came to us as the ready-made figure of respectability, QC MP.
Pipped me at the post for Head Of Chambers, and remarkably gratified to get it.
What will you do now? Abandon us all like ageing wives? Leave us to rot on bingo, while you prance off to Oakley Street in a multi-coloured, wildlife blouse? You can't do it.
It's impossible.
Why can't I? Because things were arranged differently for you.
It's mapped out for you, from the cradle to the grave.
The tramlines are leading to a solicitor general in the next middle-of-the-road Conservative-Labour government, to the High Court Bench, to the death of Sir Guthrie Featherstone, the judge of courteous severity.
- Flags at half mast.
- I don't have to do all that! Really? What's the alternative? Hanging around street corners, waiting for the BBC man to go back on night duty? Scratching a living, scribbling advice from a barrister in the Sunday papers? Oh, come off it! That's not our Guthrie Featherstone.
- You're jealous.
- What? Just because you're tied by the Income Tax and the VAT men, and She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Oh, really, Guthrie? Sorry.
It's what you call her.
That, sir, is a husband's privilege.
Why did you say I'm jealous? Do you want to be the only anarchist in Chambers? (Rumpole) 'Was there a truth in what he said? 'Had Guthrie put his finger on the Achilles heel of Rumpole? 'Did I need a flawless Featherstone 'to feel a free roving spirit? 'No.
' No, I don't need to indulge in your sort of adventures to feel a free soul.
I can be bounded in the temple, yet count myself a king of infinite space.
We've got a case next week.
The importation of cannabis.
- You are prosecuting.
- Yes.
Unless, of course, you've gone dancing.
In this case, I appear with my learned friend, Mr William James, to prosecute.
The defence is represented by my learned friend, Mr Horace Rumpole.
Members of the Jury, this case concerns the importation of a dangerous drug - Ah, Angela.
- Henry said you wanted me at court.
I have to listen to this nonsense for a bit.
Sit down.
You may have heard it said by those who attack the law, and those who are concerned with safeguarding our society, that these cases are merely brought because of the generation gap.
The gulf that is supposed to exist between the young and the not so young.
I must point out that cannabis, whatever you may have heard, is a dangerous drug prohibited by Parliament.
It may be very fashionable for the young to say that it does you no more harm than a whisky and soda or that smoking it makes you a better, purer soul than squares like us, members of the Jury.
We simple boring souls who are worried about our mortgages and our children's education, and may prefer an honest pint, or in the case of the ladies on the jury, a small gin and tonic.
The defence The defence will Er, I beg your pardon.
The defendant will say that it was his mission to turn us all on, as if we were electric lights.
We are not electric lights, members of the Jury, to be turned on and off.
Oh, forgive me.
(Chattering) - Angela's not here.
- Angela? Ah, no.
Henry tells me Angela has left.
A matter of conscience, I believe.
Ah, Mrs Feather er Mar Excuse me.
Marigold, I have an apology to make to you.
Mr Rumpole? Keeping your husband out all hours boozing at Pommeroys.
I have put a complete stop to it.
So I've noticed, and the all-night sittings seemed to have dropped off.
- Really? - I get Guthrie for dinner now! - How delicious! - Here I am, Rumpole.
Ah, there you are.
- You know Mari Of course you do! - We sing together.
He's coming to the carol service, aren't you? Oh, do come! We make a brave stab at "O Come All Ye Faithful".
Do you? How sporting of you.
I hate to miss it, but the pressure of working at Chambers You are coming to the carol service Oh, thank you.
- (Mutters) She Who Must Be Obeyed.
- I'm sorry? Oh, it's a must, I'm afraid There you are, Diane.
Thank you.
- Quiet, please.
- Yes, silence in court! - It's not a speech.
- Good.
I wanted to welcome you all, members and wives, and those who are girlfriends and members also, to our annual Christmas do.
- We've had a good year.
- That's why he's got a new suit on! (Laughs) We've managed somehow to stick together throughout the year.
Except for somebody peeling off in the typing pool.
I just wanted to say "That he that hath no stomach to this fight" - Did you want to say something? - "Let him depart.
"His passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy" - What is he talking about? - It's Shakespeare.
He does it all the time at home.
I wish he wouldn't do it when we're out.
It's so dreadfully embarrassing.
"Plead with us.
" When people talk of a split in Chambers or the possibility of any other than our distinguished Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP as Head Of Chambers, they are making a grave error, a mistake.
Like those mistakes in identity that may cause such grave injustices in our court.
Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP is a man fashioned by nature to be Head Of Chambers.
He couldn't be anything else.
We, Old Bailey hacks, the common soldiers at the Bar, shall attack a new year under his leadership, crying, "God for Guthrie, Henry and Diane!" Happy Christmas! (AIl) Happy Christmas! Sorry, old darling, you're lumbered with it.
O come all ye faithful Joyful and triumphant O come ye, o come ye To Bethlehem Come and behold Him Born the King of Angels O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him Christ the Lord God of God Light of Light Lo he abhors not The Virgin's womb Very God Begotten not created O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him Christ the Lord
'He was also wearing red driving gloves.
'The tartan cap was similar ' I'm off, Freddie.
One for the road? No, not really.
It's Betty.
She'll be waiting.
Eagerly? - You give Freddie's love to her.
- Yeah, will do.
- What time are you on tomorrow? - Day off.
- Ta-ra! - Cheers.
So long.
(Inaudible) (Man) We'd like you to form a line, please.
Just form a line.
(Inaudible) Right, sir.
Thank you, gentlemen.
If you'd like to wait there.
Stay here, sir.
Thank you very much, everybody.
Just hold on a few seconds.
(Man) Would I wear my cap, Mr Rumpole? Not to cut up a geezer in an off-licence.
That's like leaving my visiting card.
If I ever get you out of this hotel, you might consider reading for the Bar.
You have put your finger on the bull point of the defence.
Why would anyone wear a comical cap, when out on an errand of malicious wounding? - Unless - They wanted to be recognised.
Unless they wanted someone to be recognised.
I'm not worried, Mr Rumpole.
I am in the clear.
Nobody in Brixton is in the clear, old love.
Not until they hear the magic words "not guilty".
(Laughs) Your alibi depends on the evidence of your governor.
Well, he's very good to me, Mr Rumpole, and the wife.
He loaned us the money for our house deposit.
Yeah, a very generous-minded individual.
"Freddie Allbright will see you right" is his motto.
Biggest mini-cab owner in London.
You were with him all evening? Yeah.
He took me out for a curry.
How can he fix the date? It was the evening before his wife's birthday.
- He bought her a gift.
- What was it? An evening bag.
For his ladies' night down at the Masons.
What time did this job in the off-licence take place? 8:45.
Oh, well, 8:45 on 4th March, I was with Freddie Allbright.
He was having tandoori chicken, and showing me this evening bag.
My alibi is cast iron.
I'm not sure if I like cast-iron alibis.
They sink the quickest to the bottom of the sea.
Hmm.
"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships?" Or did the stabbing in the Walthamstow off-licence? I wonder.
Ah, Rumpole.
You're burning the midnight oil.
Claude, how would you describe me? Describe you? Why Describe the Rumpole you saw coming into Chambers this morning.
Short and fat.
You mean well filled out.
Generously proportioned.
No, I'd say fat.
Look, there's something going on down the passageway.
How can you be sure it was me? It had your muffler and your dreadful hat on.
Exactly! That's it! You recognised the hat! Will you look at this? It's a question of Chambers' security.
Yes, all right.
- Short and fat? - Ssh! Well, what about it? Guthrie's room.
Is he working late too? (Whispers) No, he's not.
I knocked.
Nobody answered.
You see, the door's locked.
(Whispers) He always locks it.
He's afraid someone will read his All England Reports.
There's a light under the door.
My God, you're right.
Why are we whispering? (Whispers) What? Ssh! I heard a sound from inside.
Mice.
These old places are overrun with mice.
But it was more like giggling.
Even mice enjoy a joke occasionally.
Guthrie's just left his light on.
Have you been working too hard? I have been snowed under recently.
That's it.
Come on, and have a nightcap at Pommeroys.
A man's got to be careful when he hears mice giggling.
(Erskine-Brown) Could you spare me a moment? - Morning.
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.
How did it go at the Sessions? I got three years.
Possession of cannabis.
- I bet the judge drank his whisky.
- I suppose he did.
- Still, you did your best.
- Oh, thank you.
- You were defending? - As ever, yes.
- If you could type this for me.
- What's this? "Whereas the plaintiffs, the Gargantua Trust Company Limited, "are landlords of the said premises" You can read it.
"The defendant is in default of the rent to the extent of £208.
13.
"A notice to quit has been given.
" - Whose side are we on? - The side that sends us the work.
She got a notice to quit for a measly £208.
13 from Gargantua Trust Company Limited.
I don't imagine they're short of a bob.
You're not required to judge the case.
That can be left to the Bloomsbury and Marylebone Court.
I bet she's an elderly widow.
Yes, with 23 starving children.
Just type it out, Angela.
No cheques! - Henry, is Mr Featherstone in yet? - I'm expecting him.
Will you just get on? Guthrie used to be in here at 9:30.
Now he descends on us at lunchtime.
Perhaps he's had an all-night sitting.
(Guthrie) All-night sitting.
I don't know how long I will stand it.
(Erskine-Brown) Really? What great affair of state were you discussing? Some earth-shaking measure for the protection of cod.
I want to raise the question of security in Chambers.
- A light was left on in here.
- I must have forgotten.
I heard a sound from this room.
- How extraordinarily odd.
- Rumpole thought it was mice.
(Laughs) Really? There's another matter I wanted to raise.
(Groans) Oh Another? That new girl, Angela, who does the typing Yes.
Henry says that she's an asset.
I don't know anything about her.
Diane just couldn't cope single-handed.
The girl objects to typing out a landlord's statement of claim.
She only wants to type on behalf of the tenant.
It adds horror to the Bar, if cases are decided in the typing pool.
I really don't see how you can dignify these girls, Diane and Angela, was it? with a title of typing pool.
Henry tells me she's good.
Apparently, she's indispensable.
Well, it should be brought to your attention, as Head Of Chambers.
(Knock on door) Come.
- Oh, thank you, Henry.
- Excuse me, Erskine-Brown.
(Guthrie groans) I need to speak to you.
Oh, well, I'm extremely grateful to you, Claude, really.
Perhaps form a sub-committee to deal with the mice.
Right.
Now, then, Henry.
It's that new girl, Angela.
She's getting on my wick.
Really, Henry? You surprise me.
Mr Erskine-Brown was just saying she's been an enormous help.
She wants to turn the place into a cooperative.
She thinks the girls should be in on Chambers' fees.
Workers' participation, Henry.
It's bound to come.
They want the papers in that new drugs case, sir.
You'll be prosecuting Mr Rumpole.
They want the advice by tomorrow morning.
No.
Not by tomorrow.
I have something on tonight.
Really, sir? Another all-night sitting? Yes, I'm afraid so.
It's a bloody awful Parliament! "Workers' participation.
It's bound to come.
" Not in this Chambers it bloody isn't! (Phone rings) What is this place? The House of Commons? The man was wearing a tartan cap, scarlet and yellow.
God knows what it was.
Colours of the East Walthamstow clan MacTavish.
It's my first big junior brief for the prosecution and it's a winner.
Guthrie Featherstone has completely mislaid his marbles.
I can't wait to show this to Rumpole.
I'm being led by soapy Joe Truscott.
He is extremely soapy.
How will Rumpole get out of this one? - Out of which one, Portia? - (Phyllida) Oh, Rumpole.
- The Dave Anstey case.
- Ah, yes.
Clear identification.
Three witnesses saw you on the way to the off-licence.
Yes, I am bound like the great Houdini.
Chained, padlocked into an iron chest and sunk to the bottom of the sea.
I suppose with one leap Houdini was free.
No.
In this case, he was probably never heard of again.
(Hollers) Peggy, a bottle of cooking claret, please.
- Take a look at that.
- What? Last night's debate in Parliament.
Look at the end.
I've marked it in red.
"After the defeat of the motion to preserve the ancient grasslands, "the house rose at 10:30.
" Is that it? What staggering news! Shall we flee the country? Guthrie told me that last night Thank you.
he was in an all-night sitting on the Cod Fisheries Bill.
What's peculiar about that? - It's a collapse of an alibi.
- Exactly.
Not at all.
My God! Portia of the prosecution, suspicious of everyone.
It's not surprising that QC MPs are forgetting what day it is.
They must be constantly under the impression that they're discussing cod.
Keep your mind on the Walthamstow off-licence stabbing.
Do you know who owns it? Who owns the off-licence? I don't know.
I could find out.
Do do that, Miss Trant.
It's more important than the life of our Head Of Chambers.
(Tuts) (Hilda hums) She Who Must Be Obeyed.
(Mutters) Has she taken leave of her senses? Hilda, what are you doing? - I'm practising my carols.
- Who put you up to that? Marigold Featherstone asked if I would be interested.
The Bar Choral Society take on wives.
A gaggle of barristers' wives giving tongue? How perfectly ghastly! In praise of God.
It is going to be Christmas.
Sometimes I wonder whether God enjoys Christmas.
Marigold Featherstone is not a happy woman.
Who is these days? It's Guthrie.
Guthrie Featherstone.
If you ask me, that marriage is dying for lack of attention.
You stand at choir practice when you should be praising to the Lord, gossiping about the Featherstone marriage.
It is not gossip.
I've told you she is not a happy woman.
It's difficult being married to a politician.
(Mutters) Or a part-time mezzo contralto.
- What did you say? - Just reading.
That marriage is cracking up, Rumpole.
- Yes.
- It's your fault.
Yes My fault! Guthrie is out late.
I know he has his all-night sittings.
Even when he hasn't, you keep him at Pommeroys wine bar for hours, boozing.
- I do? - Marigold asks him where he's been.
He says, "Old Rumpole was talking in Pommeroys.
I couldn't get away.
" "Old Rumpole.
" Is that what he calls me? Did you do that tonight? There wouldn't have been much point coming back here.
Not with you hitting the high notes with Marigold.
Eugh! You want to be very careful, Rumpole.
Be careful that you don't break up two marriages.
O come all ye faithful Joyful and triumphant O come ye (Mutters indistinctly) Oh, thank God they've got somewhere at last! (Phyllida) Can you describe the man who attacked you? - He had a red cap.
- Yes.
Apart from the red cap.
(Mutters) Yes.
Come on, Portia.
He was tall.
Big built.
(Mutters) Like about 20 million others.
- Did you say something, Mr Rumpole? - No, My Lord.
What about his hair? He had long sideburns.
A sort of brown colour, what I could see of it.
(Whispers) Thank you, Mr O'Neil.
Would you remain there? Ahem.
My client has no sideburns at all.
No, he hasn't.
Mr Anstey, turn to the jury.
Mr Rumpole, I'm sure you don't need reminding, but we live in the age of the electric razor.
(Rumpole) 'Oh, dear.
A judge who makes jokes.
' My Lord? Sideburns can be shaved off, if it's convenient to do so.
You said the man you saw had a sort of brown colour.
What sort of brown? Blackish brown? Ginger brown? I didn't have time to notice.
- A matter of seconds? - Yes.
So my client is on trial for a few seconds.
It will be longer by the time you've finished, Mr Rumpole.
If Your Lordship pleases.
The judge is giving Rumpole a rough time.
We're on a winner.
I'm not so sure.
A rough time is exactly what Rumpole thrives on.
Mr Rumpole, as you know perfectly well, motive is irrelevant at a criminal prosecution.
- (Man) How's it going, Mr Rumpole? - Mr Rumpole, this is Freddie Allbright.
I'm Dave's governor.
"Allbright will see you right.
" That's my motto.
Our alibi witness? Certainly.
Alibi ready and waiting, anytime you need it.
We must look after young Dave, and Mrs Anstey, of course.
I'm Dave's wife, Betty.
Lovely girl, Betty.
Exceptionally lovely girl.
- Nice to have met you.
- What are the chances? (Rumpole) I can't talk to witnesses.
We'll call you on Monday.
I can't go in there, Mr Rumpole.
Not to have everyone staring at me.
- Don't upset yourself.
- Is Dave all right? As well as can be expected.
He'd appreciate a visit.
- Oh, I dunno.
- I promised the young lady lunch.
We better go.
We don't want a lawyer nicking our table at the Savoy, do we? (Rumpole) No, of course not.
- I got that information for you.
- What? - The landlord of the off-licence.
- Ah! It's a company called Allbright Motors Limited.
Your client could have told you that.
Thank you, Miss Trant.
You've been the most tremendous help.
It's quite all right.
(Tuts) Sorry.
I didn't know you were in today.
Could I borrow "Phipson on Evidence"? That's pretty dull reading, isn't it, for a gorgeous girl like you? Rumpole is objecting to our putting in a witness' statement.
Still down the Bailey? Yes, thank God, with some decent refreshers.
Oh.
Pity.
We might have had lunch tomorrow.
Up in Soho.
The Trat.
I don't think so.
What would Marigold say? I'm hardly under her eagle eye at lunchtime.
You mean Erskine-Brown might cut up rough.
- We are going out together, yes.
- Oh, really? - Where does he take you out? - To Covent Garden.
It's terribly expensive.
That's why I have to collect as many refreshers.
He never takes you dancing? There's a new place opened up in Covent Garden.
Fridays.
Hamburgers and a disco.
Get Claude to take you with all the BPs.
What on earth are they? Beautiful people.
Like you, Miss Trant.
(Laughs) You know, I love those old movies where the girl librarian takes her glasses off, and James Stewart sees her in an entirely new light.
- Well, thanks for the "Phipson".
- Oh, any time at all.
What is that perfume you're wearing? Old books.
(Laughs) Old books! (Rumpole) If an alibi comes unstuck, everything comes unstuck.
Then, they may not believe a single word you say.
(Dave) Freddie ain't got no axe to grind.
Allbright Motors owns the off-licence.
- Never! - You didn't know that? No, I didn't.
Does it make any difference? I don't know.
Paddy picked you out at the identity parade.
- Are you sure you've never seen him? - Never! Someone must have told him about you and your remarkable head gear.
Do you trust Freddie Allbright? You must be joking! The things he's done for me a big bonus, a canteen of cutlery.
- And a fur coat.
- A what? I was wondering where your wife got it from.
If we don't call the alibi evidence, won't the prosecution comment? - They've got Mr Allbright's statement.
- Let soapy Joe comment.
He'll be left with a weak case of identification.
I want you to call the governor.
He's been like a father to me.
Think about it, and then I'll need your written instructions.
What sort of coat exactly? God knows, but several rare animals gave up their lives for it.
Well, my Betty works.
She saved up for it.
You've got to call the governor.
Look, please.
Think about it.
(Rumpole) Thank you.
La donna è mobile Qual piuma al vento Muta d'accento E di pensiero - What a magnificent performance.
- Splendid.
Sempre un amabile Leggiadro viso In pianto o in riso à menzognero - Tired? - No, not really.
Why don't we dance? - Whatever for? - Well, we never do.
There's a new place opened here.
Fridays.
All the BPs go there.
- All the what? - Beautiful people.
(Disco music) (Phyllida) I just don't think Guthrie's very well.
No? No.
He seems to think he's James Stewart.
- James who? - (Yells) Stewart! Look.
- Angela! - Who's she dancing with? Apparently with herself.
No, she's not.
She's with that rather violent shirt.
Who is he? I can't see.
It's dark in here.
It's rather fun.
Ah, they're going.
(Phyllida) Good heavens! It can't be.
- Phylli, this is appalling.
- It's Guthrie Featherstone.
Our Head Of Chambers out dancing with the typing pool.
(Hums) Oh! Excuse me.
I'm on the way to the Bailey.
- It's Marigold.
- Marigold? Marigold Featherstone.
Remember me? Oh, of course, yes.
Guthrie's room is down the passage.
No, he's not in.
Whenever I ring up, he's not in.
- Perhaps I can give him a message.
- Do you handle divorce? Ah, only rarely, and then with a strong pair of tongs.
I want you to act for me, if it should come to that.
If it should come to what, Mrs Marigold? Divorce.
Guthrie's behaving extremely oddly.
He's never there That can be an advantage in married life.
I am married to someone who is always there.
- I must rush.
- I saw him with a girl.
I saw them from a top of a bus.
They were arm in arm, looking into Peter Jones' window.
Soft furnishings.
When I tackled him, he denied it.
Now how can you be sure it was Guthrie? What could you see from the top of a bus? The top of his head? I'm sure it was Guthrie.
He had on his black jacket.
There you see, Mrs Marigold.
That's just how easily mistakes can be made.
He had a black jacket, so you assumed it was Guthrie.
Anybody can wear that or a cap.
Do I make myself clear? Not in the least.
In any case, I'm a member of Guthrie's chambers.
I couldn't act for you.
It would be embarrassing.
If it comes to divorce, I want it to be as embarrassing as possible.
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.
- Good morning, Mrs Anstey.
- Usher.
- Yes, Mr Rumpole.
That young lady with the fur coat on.
Bring her in when I say.
Don't give her time to take it off.
- Morning.
- Morning.
- Good morning.
- Morning.
Morning What's Rumpole up to now? Fighting desperately to undo the knots, I should imagine.
(AIIbright) 8:45? Yeah, of course I was with Dave at 8:45.
I took him out for a curry at 8:00.
We were together until 9:30.
(Rumpole) Can you fix the date? - Absolutely.
My wife's birthday.
- (Rumpole) And what date is that? March 5th.
Same every year.
I'd got her this evening bag.
I told Dave about it the next day.
- (Rumpole) The next day? - When we went out for curry.
- (Judge) That would be March 6th.
- That's right.
I wanted to ask you about the day before your wife's birthday.
- The evening of March 4th.
- March 4th? I don't know what Dave was doing.
No.
I tell a lie.
Oh, do you, Mr Allbright? Was that Tuesday, March 4th? - Yes.
- Dave had the night off.
He had the night off before we met.
So you don't know what Mr Anstey was doing on the night of the 4th? No, My Lord.
Mr Rumpole, you may like to remind the jury that the stabbing was on the night of the 4th.
(Whispers) I'll leave that to you, old darling.
Collapse of stout alibi.
Mr Allbright Usher.
did you not sign a statement making it clear that you were with my client on the evening of March 4th? I might have done, yeah.
My Lord, is my friend entitled to cross-examine his own witness? - If the witness is hostile, yes.
- He suggests he's hostile? No.
He's hostile to the truth! (Judge) If there's an inconsistent statement, he may be cross-examined.
If you think that's wise, Mr Rumpole.
I'm obliged, Your Lordship.
Mr Allbright, is your company the landlord of the off-licence premises where Paddy was stabbed? We own a lease to the off-licence, yeah.
- So Paddy was working for you? - He might have been.
Was he putting his hand in the till? Did someone have to teach him a lesson? Someone? Who are you suggesting it may be? Someone in a cap, like that usually worn by my client.
- Why would I do that? - (Rumpole) Usher.
(Whispers) Bring that woman in.
Mr Allbright, are you friendly with my client's wife, Betty? (AIIbright) I'm like a father to both of them.
(Rumpole) While Mr Anstey has been in custody, have you been seeing Betty? I've taken her out of herself.
Does taking her out of herself include putting her into an expensive fur coat? The one she's wearing now? I might have lent her a couple of bob.
Yes.
Thank you, Mrs Anstey.
Mr Allbright, has it always been your intention to have my client convicted? Not necessarily, no.
I wanted to help Dave.
Is that why you went back on your statement? Or were you trying to tell the truth? I put March 4th because Dave asked me to.
- (Rumpole) He asked you? - I'm sorry I can't help you.
I'm sorry I can't help you, Allbright, in your efforts to have your mistress's husband put inside for years! Mr Rumpole, is there any basis for that suggestion? My learned friend could call the lady to rebut it.
She is outside the court.
You sent your hireling in a thoroughly recognisable cap to teach Paddy a lesson! Paddy then identified Dave Anstey as the man wearing it.
When your client was picked out at the identification parade, he wasn't wearing a cap.
My Lord, it was no longer necessary.
Perhaps you can tell us why.
Who put the frighteners on Paddy to persuade him to identify Dave Anstey as the man who had stabbed him? Or didn't he know who you wanted fitted up with your caper? "Fitted up" makes it sound like a cupboard.
Then shall I say framed, Allbright? That sounds like a picture.
In this case, the wrong picture entirely.
- So, with one leap Houdini was free.
- Right.
Not guilty.
Majority verdict.
Out four hours.
It was a damn close-run thing.
(Laughs) Freddie Allbright didn't look too happy.
It was a smashing cross-examination.
You should have him deal with a hostile witness.
It's high time justice was done to you.
Justice? You should have been Head Of Chambers years ago.
As senior man, it was yours.
Everybody said so at the time.
I don't remember any overt support from you then, Erskine-Brown.
Well, Guthrie Featherstone MP arrived in all his glory, and he took silk Betwixt the election and my hopes.
It was a shame.
We didn't know the truth about Guthrie Featherstone then.
He's having it off with that female communist in the typing pool.
Young Angela? You astonish me.
We simply must have a reliable Head Of Chambers.
Not someone who's involved in an unsavoury scandal.
What would a savoury scandal be? - Fried on toast with an anchovy.
- Oh, Rumpole, really! Seats? Everyone's noticed things about Guthrie.
What do you mean, things? There's definite signs of unreliability.
The point is we ask Guthrie to resign, and make way for you.
I do think you'd make a super head.
Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP is not an experienced Labour-Conservative member for nothing.
He hogs the middle of the road in case someone tries to pass him.
Maybe he's not the resigning kind.
Then, we simply move to a chambers in Lincoln's Inn.
- I've sounded out Henry - Have you had any time for work? - Horace, nobody's - (Phyllida) Ssh! Nobody will work with a head who is having it off with a revolutionary from the typing pool.
(Phyllida) Ahem! See you tomorrow.
OK.
Bye.
Do you see? I would like to know what evidence you have for making these extraordinary allegations.
Claude and I saw Guthrie dancing in Fridays with Angela.
Guthrie was wearing a multi-coloured shirt with tigers on it.
(Laughs) Then it couldn't have been Guthrie.
- Horace, it was.
- It was.
- Mistaken identity.
- I saw him with my own eyes.
Ah, well, as Miss Trant learnt in court, the evidence of one's own eyes can be extremely misleading.
Guthrie Featherstone simply does not wear multi-coloured shirts with or without tigers.
Tigers! Ha ha! (Knock on door) "What immortal hand or eye "could frame thy fearful symmetry?" (Growls) Oh Henry said you wanted to see me.
(Coughs) - Don't you want to see me? - No.
Not particularly.
- You're in need of a little help.
- I'm all right.
Are you? They're closing in, old darling.
Your wife consulted me to start a divorce.
- You? - Mmm-hm.
Why did she consult you for? No doubt to cause the maximum havoc.
Erskine-Brown alleges that he saw you jitterbugging.
With Angela? Lord Erskine-Brown suspects you of having a Red in the bed.
It's true.
It's all perfectly true, Rumpole! You plead guilty? Well, as a matter of fact, it's all terribly innocent.
Jumping around in Fridays until 2:00am and back to her narrow bed.
Then off to breakfast in the House of Commons.
- That's the worst part.
- What? Breakfast in the House of Commons.
You aren't cut out for that existence.
No.
The physical strain is exhausting.
It must come as a shock to someone used to debates and golf.
Golf? It happened when I was playing golf with Mr Justice Vosper.
- Do you know him? - Only in court.
Never on the green.
He was talking about the death penalty.
Nostalgia, I assume.
I sliced my ball into the rough.
I went behind this low patch of scrub.
And there was this boy and girl making love.
Not undressed, you understand.
Just kissing, laughing.
I realised that there was an entire world that I totally missed.
- I told the judge I was taken ill.
- Well, you were.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in Richmond in search of adventure.
You drew a blank.
Next morning, I walked into Chambers, and there was Angela.
She's only 21, Rumpole.
Can you imagine it? With difficulty.
What is that military uniform she affects? Oh! An American combat shirt.
It's a joke to show her pacifist convictions.
Oh, highly amusing.
You set out to deliberately destroy your position in Chambers? Deliberately? Well, locking yourself in this room the other night.
Why? Oh.
Well, er we couldn't go back to Oakley Street.
Her flatmate was entertaining a chap from the BBC.
Barristers' chambers have been put to many uses, but only rarely as a setting for a French farce.
You were very determined, weren't you? Telling Marigold a pack of lies, carefully informing Miss Trant, and, therefore, Erskine-Brown of that Palais de Hop where you're to be found tripping the light fantastic.
Keeping your dancing apparel in Chambers.
Oh, yes, that's a That's a birthday present from Angela.
I couldn't take it back to Marigold.
What are you going to do with it? Send Henry to the launderette? Hmm.
I don't know, Rumpole.
What do you suggest? Give it to a steel band.
Look, old darling, you can't do it.
- Do what exactly? - Escape.
You came to us as the ready-made figure of respectability, QC MP.
Pipped me at the post for Head Of Chambers, and remarkably gratified to get it.
What will you do now? Abandon us all like ageing wives? Leave us to rot on bingo, while you prance off to Oakley Street in a multi-coloured, wildlife blouse? You can't do it.
It's impossible.
Why can't I? Because things were arranged differently for you.
It's mapped out for you, from the cradle to the grave.
The tramlines are leading to a solicitor general in the next middle-of-the-road Conservative-Labour government, to the High Court Bench, to the death of Sir Guthrie Featherstone, the judge of courteous severity.
- Flags at half mast.
- I don't have to do all that! Really? What's the alternative? Hanging around street corners, waiting for the BBC man to go back on night duty? Scratching a living, scribbling advice from a barrister in the Sunday papers? Oh, come off it! That's not our Guthrie Featherstone.
- You're jealous.
- What? Just because you're tied by the Income Tax and the VAT men, and She Who Must Be Obeyed.
Oh, really, Guthrie? Sorry.
It's what you call her.
That, sir, is a husband's privilege.
Why did you say I'm jealous? Do you want to be the only anarchist in Chambers? (Rumpole) 'Was there a truth in what he said? 'Had Guthrie put his finger on the Achilles heel of Rumpole? 'Did I need a flawless Featherstone 'to feel a free roving spirit? 'No.
' No, I don't need to indulge in your sort of adventures to feel a free soul.
I can be bounded in the temple, yet count myself a king of infinite space.
We've got a case next week.
The importation of cannabis.
- You are prosecuting.
- Yes.
Unless, of course, you've gone dancing.
In this case, I appear with my learned friend, Mr William James, to prosecute.
The defence is represented by my learned friend, Mr Horace Rumpole.
Members of the Jury, this case concerns the importation of a dangerous drug - Ah, Angela.
- Henry said you wanted me at court.
I have to listen to this nonsense for a bit.
Sit down.
You may have heard it said by those who attack the law, and those who are concerned with safeguarding our society, that these cases are merely brought because of the generation gap.
The gulf that is supposed to exist between the young and the not so young.
I must point out that cannabis, whatever you may have heard, is a dangerous drug prohibited by Parliament.
It may be very fashionable for the young to say that it does you no more harm than a whisky and soda or that smoking it makes you a better, purer soul than squares like us, members of the Jury.
We simple boring souls who are worried about our mortgages and our children's education, and may prefer an honest pint, or in the case of the ladies on the jury, a small gin and tonic.
The defence The defence will Er, I beg your pardon.
The defendant will say that it was his mission to turn us all on, as if we were electric lights.
We are not electric lights, members of the Jury, to be turned on and off.
Oh, forgive me.
(Chattering) - Angela's not here.
- Angela? Ah, no.
Henry tells me Angela has left.
A matter of conscience, I believe.
Ah, Mrs Feather er Mar Excuse me.
Marigold, I have an apology to make to you.
Mr Rumpole? Keeping your husband out all hours boozing at Pommeroys.
I have put a complete stop to it.
So I've noticed, and the all-night sittings seemed to have dropped off.
- Really? - I get Guthrie for dinner now! - How delicious! - Here I am, Rumpole.
Ah, there you are.
- You know Mari Of course you do! - We sing together.
He's coming to the carol service, aren't you? Oh, do come! We make a brave stab at "O Come All Ye Faithful".
Do you? How sporting of you.
I hate to miss it, but the pressure of working at Chambers You are coming to the carol service Oh, thank you.
- (Mutters) She Who Must Be Obeyed.
- I'm sorry? Oh, it's a must, I'm afraid There you are, Diane.
Thank you.
- Quiet, please.
- Yes, silence in court! - It's not a speech.
- Good.
I wanted to welcome you all, members and wives, and those who are girlfriends and members also, to our annual Christmas do.
- We've had a good year.
- That's why he's got a new suit on! (Laughs) We've managed somehow to stick together throughout the year.
Except for somebody peeling off in the typing pool.
I just wanted to say "That he that hath no stomach to this fight" - Did you want to say something? - "Let him depart.
"His passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy" - What is he talking about? - It's Shakespeare.
He does it all the time at home.
I wish he wouldn't do it when we're out.
It's so dreadfully embarrassing.
"Plead with us.
" When people talk of a split in Chambers or the possibility of any other than our distinguished Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP as Head Of Chambers, they are making a grave error, a mistake.
Like those mistakes in identity that may cause such grave injustices in our court.
Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP is a man fashioned by nature to be Head Of Chambers.
He couldn't be anything else.
We, Old Bailey hacks, the common soldiers at the Bar, shall attack a new year under his leadership, crying, "God for Guthrie, Henry and Diane!" Happy Christmas! (AIl) Happy Christmas! Sorry, old darling, you're lumbered with it.
O come all ye faithful Joyful and triumphant O come ye, o come ye To Bethlehem Come and behold Him Born the King of Angels O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him Christ the Lord God of God Light of Light Lo he abhors not The Virgin's womb Very God Begotten not created O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him O come let us adore Him Christ the Lord