Rumpole of the Bailey (1978) s06e01 Episode Script
Rumpole a la Carte
Un, deux, trois! Monsieur.
We got an injunction to stop the Great Elk Bank floating the shares and they had to let us take over the Winnipeg Soap Company at the bottom of the market.
Cleared about $4 million for my clients.
(Hilda) Oh, did you hear that? You've never cleared $4 million for your client, have you, Rumpole? You should be a company lawyer, like Cousin Everard.
I'll stick to crime.
It's a more honest type of robbery.
Oh, nonsense! Robbery has never got us a dinner at La Maison Jean Pierre.
If Cousin Everard hadn't come from Saskatchewan, we'd never be here.
Yes, indeed, from the town of Saskatoon.
There, Hilda, all the way from Where? - Saskatoon.
- Saskatoon, Hilda.
Such wonderfully elegant surroundings here.
Think of it, Rumpole.
It takes Cousin Everard from Saskatoon to introduce us to gracious living.
Oh, we have several fine dining restaurants in Saskatoon now, Hilda.
- And igloos and Eskimos.
- (Hilda) What did you say, Rumpole? - "That's good news, heaven knows.
" - What are you staring at, Rumpole? I thought I spotted something familiar in the twilight.
Madame et monsieurs, tonight, Jean Pierre recommends for the main course la poésie de la poitrine du canard aux céleri et épinards cru.
Poésie That's poetry, Rumpole.
Tastes better than that Wordsworth, I shouldn't be surprised.
Tell us about it, Georges.
Whet our appetites.
This is just a few wafer-thin slices of breast of duck marinated in a drop or two of Armagnac, lightly grilled, and served with a celery remoulade and a few leaves of young spinach.
And mash.
- Mashed spuds come with it, do they? - (Hilda) Shh! Rumpole! I will have the poésie.
It sounds delicious.
A culinary experience, Hilda.
Yes, a poésie for me too, please.
- And for monsieur? - Hmm? Oh, I'll have a posy posy of um steak and kidney pudding, not pie, mashed potatoes and a large scoop of boiled cabbage and mustard, please.
- English, if you have it.
- (Hilda) Behave yourself! This pudding is not on our menu.
Oh? "Your pleasure is our delight.
" That's what it says.
Couldn't you ask cookie to pleasure me? Along those lines.
"Cookie"? I do not know what monsieur means by "Cookie.
" Our maïtre de cuisine is Jean Pierre O'Higgins himself.
- He is in the kitchen himself.
- How convenient! Have a word in his shell-like.
Excusez-moi un petit d'instant.
Merci.
- More salt.
- OK.
A customer has ordered steak and kidney pudding with mashed spuds.
- Go on, Georges, you're having me on.
- Incroyable, mais, c'est vrai.
Bloody cheek! Ice-cold insolence! Got to get some discipline into the punters.
Point him out.
I know how to deal with him.
Claude, is there anything wrong? No, no, Tricia, absolutely nothing at all.
- What are you doing with that menu? - The menu? Why? Not doing anything with it in particular.
We have ordered, hours ago.
Oh, no! Your wife's not here, is she? I always seem to be bumping into people's wives.
Philli? No, she's doing some town planning in Cardiff.
It's not Philli I'm worried about, not that I'm worried about anything.
I say, it is fun here, isn't it? Look, Claude, I'm not just a pretty face.
I have been a solicitor for five years.
I know about offenders, and you have the look of a man hiding from the law.
Hiding? From the law? Good heavens, no.
From a lawyer, perhaps.
I say, you can't see a smallish, stoutish person, can you? Next to a formidable lady? Good heavens, Claude.
Isn't that old Rumpole from your chambers? Is he Is he glancing in our direction? Not at all.
He seems to be congratulating the cook.
Am I to understand that there are no mashed spuds for my delight? Look here, my friend, I don't know who you are This is Horace Rumpole, the criminal lawyer.
- It's great to - Criminal lawyer, eh? Well, don't come and commit your crimes in my restaurant.
If you want mashed spuds, I suggest the caff at the end of the street.
Now, that is a helpful suggestion.
You might get a few bangers and a bottle of OK sauce.
That suit your delicate palate, would it? Oh, very well indeed.
I'm not a great one for wafer-thin slices of anything.
No, you don't look it.
Now, let's get this straight.
People who come to my restaurant damn well eat as I tell 'em to.
And no doubt, you win them all over with your irresistible charm.
- Listen to me, Mr - Oh, Rumpole.
- He's my husband, actually.
- Your husband? You have all my sympathy, you unfortunate woman.
- Listen to me, Mr Rumbole - (Mouths) This is a gourmet restaurant.
This is La Maison Jean Pierre.
I have three stars in the Michelin.
I threw out an Arabian king because he ordered filet mignon well-cooked.
I have sent film stars away in tears because they dared to mention thousand island dressing.
I am Jean Pierre O'Higgins, the greatest culinary genius now working in England.
Jean Pierre O'Higgins? Now, there's a very interesting name.
Your fame has spread to Saskatoon.
You were featured in our Gracious Living magazine.
True, and let me tell you, Mr Rumbole (Mouths) I started my career with salads at the Hôtel du Lac, Geneva.
I studied at La Grande Bouffe in Lyons under the great Ducasse.
I was rôtisseur in Le Crillon, Boston.
I've run this restaurant for 20 years, and have never, let me tell you, never in my whole career, served up a mashed spud.
Un, deux, trois! (Tricia screams) Please, don't scream! I say, old darling, they had a live mouse on that table over there.
Is that your spécialité de la maison? I'll get you a coffee.
(O'Higgins) Thanks, Mary.
"Chateau Duddon, the Lake District's most luxurious hotel, "a paradise of gracious living.
" Everard wants to take me up there for a break.
"Sole listener Duddon (Cutlery rattles) "To the breeze that played with thy clear voice (Crockery clangs) "I caught the fitful sound that wafted O'er sullen moss and craggy mound "A paradise in gracious living!" How Wo How Wordsworth would have painted it.
A break from what, pray? From you, Rumpole.
Don't you think I need it? What a disastrous evening when Everard took us out.
Do you think so? I rather enjoyed it.
(Chuckles) Britain's greatest cook laboured and brought forth a monstrous mouse.
(Guffaws) People would pay good money to see that.
- You had to disgrace me, in public.
- Come along, my dear old thing.
There's no disgrace in a good, honest-to-God steak and kidney pud, with or without mash.
You did it because you have to be a character, all the time.
Well, I don't think I can put up with your character much longer, Rumpole.
- My dear old - And I am not your dear old thing! Not any more.
I was, once, perhaps, but I am not your dear old thing any more.
My dear No.
No, I shouldn't have said that.
No.
All right, I won't say it.
What do you mean about my being a character? You have to be one, all the time, with your cigar ash and steak and kidney pudding and Pomeroy's ordinary red and arguments, always arguments, in public.
Why do you have to keep doing it? Arguing in public has been my whole life, Hilda.
Well, it's not mine, not any more.
Everard doesn't argue in public.
Well, now, if you're talking about a fellow that lives on wafer-thin slices of lightly-grilled duck's breast together with a little raw spinach, he probably hasn't got the energy for an argument.
- Thank goodness.
- You like that? Yes, I do.
That is why I agreed to this trip.
- Trip? - Yes.
Everard and I are going to tour all the restaurants with rosettes, York, Bath and Devizes.
Oh, yes? Oh, yes? And what about Mrs Everard? Left her behind in Saskatoon, has he? Everard lost his wife many years ago, Rumpole.
- Walked out into the snow.
- What did you say? Got to go.
I have a conference in chambers.
Yes, well, when I'm off, you can mash all the spuds you want.
Oh, my d Hilda, you're not serious about this eating jaunt, are you? Hurry up, or you'll be late.
I'm sure you can't wait to argue with someone.
- Exit, pursued by a mouse.
- Oh, it's you, Rumpole.
Horace You may have noticed me at Maison Jean Pierre.
Noticed you, Claude? Of course not.
You were with a young lady who screamed like a banshee with toothache.
No-one could possibly have noticed you.
That was purely a business arrangement.
A pretty rum way of doing business.
The young lady was Miss Tricia Benbow, my instructing solicitor in the VAT case.
I've had considerable experience in the law.
If you wish to entertain solicitors to tout for briefs, it's not a good idea to put a mouse in the plat du jour.
Good heavens! You don't imagine I did that? The whole thing was a disaster, an absolute tragedy, which may have appalling consequences.
Sir Erskine-Brown Your wife on the telephone, sir.
Oh.
Philli, how's Cardiff? No, I haven't been out in the evenings.
I stayed at home and cooked myself an omelette.
- Henry - No, no, I'm not bored, no.
Perfectly all right.
Henry, something extremely serious has happened.
- Someone's nicked the nailbrush.
- How did you guess? Well, that corresponds to your idea of serious, Ballard, besides, I happen to notice these things! Odd that you knew what I was talking about.
Not guilty, My Lord.
Didn't your God-bothering society meet here last week? The Lawyers as Christians Committee met here.
What of it? "Cleanliness is next to godliness.
" Isn't that their motto? The devout are notorious nailbrush nickers.
- Think about it.
- Nickers? Yeah My client, Mr Rumpole, first consulted me on another matter.
His marriage is on the rocks.
Some marriages are seldom off them.
Particularly so, as in this case, if the wife's of foreign extraction.
It's been my experience you can't beat foreign wives for being vengeful.
In this case, extremely vengeful.
- Hell hath no fury, Mr Pinhorn? - Exactly, Mr Rumpole.
You've put your finger on the nub of the case.
I haven't done a matrimonial in years.
My divorce may be rusty.
We're not giving you the divorce.
We're sending that to Mr Tite-Smith.
Oh, well, good luck to right little tight little Tite-Smith.
The matrimonial is not my client's only problem.
When troubles come, Mr Pinhorn, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
- He has something else on his plate? - On his plate? (Laughs) That's very apt, that is, and apter than you know.
Don't keep me in suspense.
Who is this mysterious client? I won't divulge his name in case you refuse to act for him, although he's not short of money.
Huh! Horace Rumpole refuse a money brief? (Laughs) Oh, no, no.
He was afraid you'd taken against him, so he's coming to appeal to you.
I've asked Henry to have him shown up.
Henry! Mr O'Higgins, sir.
Is it Horace Rumpole? I rely on you to save me.
You're the man to do it, the great criminal defender.
Oh, I thought I was the criminal in your restaurant.
I have to tell you, Mr Rumpole, your courage took my breath away.
Do you know what he did, Mr Pinhorn, what he had the pluck to do? Only order mashed spuds in La Maison Jean Pierre.
A thing no-one has dared in all my time as maïtre de cuisine.
I tell you, Mr Pinhorn, a man who could do that to Jean Pierre couldn't be intimidated by all the judges of the bench.
No.
What do you say then, Mr Horace Rumpole? Will you take me on? Well, I'll have to think about that.
Be honest.
Is it my personality that makes you hesitate? Do you find me objectionable, Mr Rumpole? Mr O'Higgins, I find your restaurant pretentious, and your portions skimpy.
Your customers regale themselves in a dim, religious atmosphere, more fitting to evensong than a good night out.
I find you an opinionated and self-satisfied bully.
However, unlike you, I am on hire to even the most unattractive customer.
Just listen to that.
How's that for eloquence? We've picked the right one here, Mr Pinhorn.
You haven't done away with this vengeful wife, have you? I should have, but no, Simonne is still alive and suing.
- Isn't that right, Mr Pinhorn? - It is, Mr O'Higgins.
I received a telephone call from the environmental health officer.
My client is being charged with offences relating to dangerous practices at La Maison under the Food and Hygiene Regulations 1970.
"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie," the cause of panic in his breastie.
- The mouse.
- This is it, Mr Rumpole.
How wonderful! We will elect for a trial by jury.
(Guffaws) At least we'll give them a few laughs, Mr Pinhorn, even if we can't get you off, Mr O'Higgins.
(Speaks Italian) Right, that's you, spaghetti face.
(Speaks Italian) The comis waiter, Alberto Pasquale.
He's Italian.
He saw nothing until they took off the cloche.
- Been with you long, has he? - About a year.
Works hard.
Make a good manager.
So, now, he takes the dishes out, to the station waiter.
(O'Higgins) Gaston LeBlanc.
He's been with me forever.
Works all the hours God made, a sick wife, a kid at university.
Does all sorts of jobs, even on his night off.
He looks under the covers to see what's what.
Gaston said there were only two plates.
He checked one and it was the gentleman's order.
- No side order of mouse.
- Exactly.
He gave the other to Alberto who took it to the lady.
And then the reputation of England's greatest maïtre de cuisine crumbled to dust.
Nonsense.
You're forgetting the reputation of Horace Rumpole.
I'd better go out and keep those Ionely people company.
So, what's our defence? Oh, we'll cook up something in the end.
You know, it's extraordinary, Mr Pinhorn, the power that can be wielded by one of these smaller rodents.
You mean it's wrecked the business? No, no.
It's making Jean Pierre O'Higgins be polite to his customers.
Good morning, Mr Rumpole.
Oh, top of the morning to you, Mrs Rafferty.
Mrs Rafferty, am I a character, in your humble opinion? - Are you a what, Mr Rumpole? - A character.
There was this old fellow Dalrymple we had in chambers donkeys' years ago.
You remember, he had an absolutely filthy flat just off Chancery Lane.
He led a cat around on a length of pink tape.
He dried his socks in front of his electric fire? - Yes.
You remember him? - No.
Well, everybody's very proud of old Dalrymple.
"Ho, ho!" they'd say, "Dalrymple, what a character!" One day, our head of chambers came in.
He said, "They've binned Dalrymple.
"Caught him climbing into the divorce court in his pyjamas.
"Certified insane.
" Am I a character, Mrs Rafferty? Well each to his own, Mr Rumpole.
That's what I always say.
- Mrs Rafferty - Sorry, sir? What's that in your hand? - Oh, this little fellow? - Yes.
It was lying on the floor of the toilet.
Not much of a brush, but it does the job, sir.
It may not be much of a brush, but I know somebody who'd be glad of it.
You want it as a gift, sir? Not exactly as a gift, Mrs Rafferty, more of a sort of surprise, that is if you can spare it.
Well, now, you're quite a character, aren't you, Mr Rumpole? You don't want to know.
It's something you don't want to hear about.
- It's the same with battery hens.
- Battery hens? Nobody wants to know, that's all.
But surely, Liz, battery hens don't get Ionely.
Perhaps they do.
There's an awful lot of Ioneliness about, especially amongst old people.
Rumpole.
You're all alone.
Oh.
Well, yes, I was, yes.
Do you always have breakfast by yourself? Ah, it's not always possible.
- It's a lot easier now, of course.
- Now? Why now, exactly? Well, now my wife's left me.
- Hilda? - Mmm.
- She's left you, Rumpole? - Er yes.
As you would say, Miss Probert, she's no longer sharing a supportive relationship with me in any meaningful way.
But where's she gone? Oh, she's gone off looking for gracious living with her cousin Everard from Saskatoon.
He's got as many jokes in him as the Dow Jones average.
- She's gone off with another man? - That's about the size of it.
Rumpole, why? Because he is rich enough to be able to afford very small portions of food.
- Rumpole - Yes? You know Dave Inchcape and I founded the YRLS, the Young Radical Lawyers? We don't only mean to agitate for law reform, although that's part of it.
We want to go into community work as well.
We could get someone to look at your front door.
My front door? Whatever for? Well, I suppose just to count the milk bottles.
Oh.
(Chuckles) (Knock on door) (Claude) Morning, Ballard.
You're an early bird.
One doesn't like this, but it's the only way.
- You want to catch the worm.
- Worm? What worm? A worm in chambers? What do you mean? Nothing at all.
Just a figure of speech.
One gets worried about standards of hygiene.
I'm briefing this restaurant business.
It makes one think.
Well, yes.
It's been making me think.
I wanted to have a word about the Maison Jean Pierre.
- A chain.
It's the only answer.
- Just my luck that it was my table.
I'm a fairly well-known member of the bar.
Henry will have to find a small padlock.
I don't want my name associated with a ridiculous The fellows in chambers aren't going to like it.
Rumpole will say a great deal, but the chain is the answer.
- The what, Ballard? - Yes.
Yes.
Get a new nailbrush and then chain it up so that nobody can take it.
Can I have your support in taking stern measures? Oh, yes, Ballard.
I'm right behind you.
Of course you can.
In this restaurant case, will you need to call the couple who got the mouse? The couple? Yes.
The mouse was served, appalling lack of hygiene, to a table booked by Mr Claude Erskine-Brown and guest.
Now, he'll be a vital witness.
- You will be a vital witness.
- That's just it.
I can't be a witness.
- There's no way I can be a witness.
- Why not? My name will get into the papers, and Philli will know I had dinner.
Why shouldn't she know you were having dinner? Most people have dinner.
It's nothing to be ashamed of.
Ballard? Sam.
You're a married man.
You should understand these things.
Of course I'm married, and Marguerite and I have dinner.
But I wasn't having dinner with Philli! I was dining with a solicitor.
- This was your guest? - Yes.
- A solicitor? - Of course.
He apparently leapt on a chair, held down his skirt and screamed.
Ballard, the solicitor was Tricia Benbow.
You don't imagine I'd spend a hundred quid on Mr Pinhorn, do you? - Patricia Benbow? - Yes.
The blonde one who wears all the bangles? That's the one.
- She's a woman.
- Yes.
- And your wife knew nothing of this? - And must never know.
Thank you, Ballard.
Thanks awfully, Sam.
Keep my name out of this.
I'll do the same for you, old boy.
- That won't be necessary? - No? Well, thanks anyway.
- But you will have to give evidence.
- Sam! Don't you Sam me! It's all part of the same thing.
Sharp practice over the nailbrush, failure to assist the authorities in an important prosecution.
You had better prepare to give evidence and to be cross-examined by Rumpole for the defence.
Do your duty and take the consequences.
Bastard! We thought of a way of cheering him up.
What's the idea, Miss Probert? Well, actually, it's social work.
Afternoon, all.
Fig Newton.
Mr Pinhorn said Mr Rumpole would like to tell me about a job.
Take a seat, won't you, Mr Newton? I'm expecting Mr Rumpole from court.
Much obliged.
(Liz) He must be going out of his mind, all alone every night.
Shh, Liz! - (Liz) Hello, Rumpole.
Had a good day? - Oh, perfectly charming.
His Honour, Judge Graves rose from the tomb to give my client five years.
Ferdinand Isaac Gerald Newton, private investigator extraordinaire.
- How are you, Fig? - Oh er not so dusty.
- You have a little job for me? - Oh, yes, indeed.
A word with you.
There is a very posh restaurant called La Maison Jean Pierre.
You need a second mortgage to eat there.
A couple of the waiters, I'd like to know what they do.
Gaston LeBlanc You coming to Pomeroy's, Rumpole? No.
Sorry, Dave.
Duty calls me to another watering hole.
And Alberto Pasquale.
(Sings in Italian) Keep your stinking hands off her! She doesn't want to know you.
- Mary can't stand the sight of you! - (Speaks Italian) - Imbecile? Who's an imbecile? - (Speaks Italian) - I've had enough of you! - (Shouts in Italian) Leave it out! One mouse and you behave like a bunch of lunatics! Haven't you wrecked this place enough? Are you going to slaughter each other? Am I interrupting anything? Only the collapse of a great restaurant.
- Aren't we meeting in court? - I had some questions.
I thought I'd call in on my way home.
My wife's away at the moment, and I've forgotten to get anything in for dinner.
Are you hungry, Mr Rumpole? A little terrine Jean Pierre? How about un petit coup de champagne? Oh, I thought you'd never ask.
They fight over her, Mr Rumpole.
Ah, the young Mary Skelton exercises a very powerful attraction.
- She doesn't exactly look the type.
- Maybe she has a warm heart.
Simonne looked the type.
She had a heart like iced consommé.
Oh, yes, your wife.
A vengeful woman, was she? Why would she be vengeful to me, when I am a particularly tolerant and easy-going type of individual? I We're not open yet! What do you think we'll be serving? High tea? Cretins! It's not as though I'm a difficult man.
Oh, no, of course not, a very parfait, gentle cook.
A great artist needs admiration, of course.
He needs almost incessant praise.
And with Simonne, the admiration flowed like cement, did it? Had some experience of wives? A lifetime's experience, you might say.
You'll have to fill all these tables to pay Simonne's alimony, won't you? Well, not exactly.
After the divorce, she'll own half the restaurant.
Ah Now, that was not made clear to me.
Simonne, she was the one with the business sense.
But she's French, so she insisted on us getting married in France.
- Was that wrong? - No.
It was right, for Simonne.
They have a thing there they call community property.
I had to agree to give her half of everything if we broke up.
But you know all about the law.
Well, no, not all about it.
Often, knowledge of the law's a handicap to a barrister.
You are going to get us out of this little trouble, Mr Rumpole? - The business of the mouse.
- Oh, the mouse.
The mouse is the least of your worries.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Well, the animals will be arriving.
It's almost feeding time.
Zim Saladin! Haroota mahroopa! And hey oop! "For oft, when on my couch I lie "In vacant or in pensive mood "They flash upon that inward eye "Which is the bliss of solitude.
" (Doorbell rings) She's back! Ah, Hilda - (Rock music) - Party, party, Mr Rumpole! Surprise party, Rumpole.
Cheer you up in your Ioneliness.
My wife's having dinner at the mansion house of the South London Mayors.
No consorts allowed, thank God.
And I hear Mrs Rumpole's done a bunk, sir.
- No, not exactly a bunk, Henry, no.
- Which is why we're on the loose, eh? - Makes you feel young, don't it? - Not particularly young, Henry, no.
What could the Lord Chancellor know about being pregnant and your boyfriend's been arrested for doing dope.
(Phone rings) Very little, I should imagine.
Yes.
- That's the telephone.
- The police, I shouldn't wonder.
- I'll get it.
- Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
Yes, officer? Oh, Hilda! Oh, hello.
(Ballard) Members of the jury, many of you may find this case shocking, concerning, as it does 'His Honour, Judge Gerald Graves, never a friend to Rumpole.
'Look, he's looking at me now 'as though I were a porridge saucepan that hasn't been washed.
'No doubt he lives on a diet of organic bran, iced water 'and colonic irrigation.
'Huh! The last person in the world to laugh this case out of court.
'Ah, well.
I'll have to do my best without him.
' In this highly-expensive, allegedly three-starred restaurant, members of the jury, the environmental health officer discovered cracked tiles, open waste bins, gravy on the ceiling - On the ceiling, Mr Ballard? - Yes, My Lord.
Obviously not a short-order cook.
Absence of nailbrushes in hand basins (Gasps) Horror! All this is bad enough, but on the night of May 18th, a common house mouse was served up to a customer's dinner table.
No doubt, we're dealing, Mr Ballard, with a defunct mouse.
Again, alas, no, My Lord.
The mouse in question was alive.
And kicking.
Need one ask if an establishment is in breach of food hygiene regulations if it serves up a mouse? As proprietor of the restaurant, Mr O'Higgins is, say the prosecution, absolutely responsible.
Whomsoever he seeks to blame in his employ, he must take the consequences.
- I will call my first witness.
- Who is this pompous imbecile? Shh! Quiet! What are your full names, sir? My Lord, may I write them down? There may be some publicity.
- Aren't you a member of the Bar? - Well, yes.
That's nothing to be ashamed of in most cases.
Tell the jury who you are in the usual way.
- Claude Leonard - No, do speak up.
Claude Leonard Erskine-Brown.
Leonard? He's not owned up to that before.
Were you dining at La Maison Jean Pierre? Well, yes.
Yes, I did just drop in.
- For dinner? - Yes.
In the company of a young lady named Patricia Benbow? Ah, well, now, that is Mr Erskine-Brown, it seems a fairly simple question to answer, even for a member of the bar.
I was in Miss Company's Benbow, My Lord.
- And were the plates covered? - Yes, they were.
When the covers were lifted, what happened? - A mouse ran out.
- Do speak up! - A mouse ran out, My Lord! - Hickory, dickory, dock.
(Ballard) Thank you, Mr Erskine-Brown.
(Rumpole) Mr Claude? Leonard Erskine-Brown.
- Is Miss Benbow a solicitor? - Well, yes.
And is your wife a well-known and highly-regarded Queen's counsel? No.
Mrs Erskine-Brown has sat here as a recorder, members of the jury.
(Rumpole) I'm obliged to Your Lordship.
And is Miss Benbow instructed in an important and forthcoming case, that is the Balham minicab murder, in which she intends to instruct Mrs Erskine-Brown QC? I Is she? Were you dining with Miss Benbow in order to discuss the defence in that case, your wife being unfortunately delayed in Cardiff? Was I? Well, weren't you? Oh, yes, of course.
I remember now.
Of course I was.
I did it all to help Philli.
To help my wife.
Is that what you mean? - (Ballard) My Lord - That is exactly what I mean.
Thank you, Horace.
Thank you very much.
Mr Rumpole, when are we coming to the mouse? Thank you, Your Lordship, for reminding me.
- What sort of an animal was it? - A small mouse, hardly noticeable.
A very small mouse, and ha hardly noticeable.
You first saw it when it emerged from under the silver dish cover? You couldn't swear it got there in the kitchen? (Claude) No, I couldn't.
Or if it was inserted by someone who had access to the serving table? Oh, yes, Mr Rumpole, you're perfectly right.
It might have been.
I take it you're not suggesting this creature appeared by some sort of miracle, are you, Mr Rumpole? No, My Lord, not a miracle.
Perhaps a trick.
But isn't Mr Ballard perfectly right? For the purposes of this offence, it doesn't matter how it got there.
A properly-run restaurant should not serve up a mouse for dinner.
- The thing speaks for itself.
- Oh, a talking mouse, My Lord? Mr Rumpole, this is not a place of entertainment.
Remember, this is a most serious case from your client's point of view.
We will continue with it after luncheon.
- Well, the battle continues.
- This is a mysterious case.
It's more than mysterious, Mr Pinhorn.
There is no evidence of droppings, no sign of mice in that kitchen.
No.
The mouse was put under the cover to ruin the business.
- Mrs O'Higgins? - Oh, no.
Certainly not.
She'd want the place to be as prosperous as possible.
No, the guilty person is someone who wanted Simonne to get as little as possible.
So, what did this someone do? You tell me, Mr Rumpole.
Broke a few small rules to begin with, took away the nailbrushes, the covers off the bins, but they needed something sensational, something that would hit the headlines.
They remembered one of the waiters had a talent for sleight of hand.
He had a spare-time job producing livestock out of hats.
- Gaston LeBlanc? - Exactly.
He put the mouse under the cover, handed it to Alberto, who passed it on to the unfortunate Miss Benbow.
Consequence, the ruin of the restaurant and a poor investment for the vengeful Simonne.
Whoever it was must have paid Gaston very well.
Who are we talking about, Mr Rumpole? Ah, well, now, who had the greatest possible reason for hating Simonne? (Pinhorn) Who? (Rumpole) Who other than our client, the great Jean Pierre O'Higgins himself? No! No! It's not true! Jean Pierre knew nothing about it.
It was my idea entirely.
Why should she get anything out of him? Well now, back into court.
Why don't you take a statement from Miss Mary Skelton? We'll call her as a witness.
I'm afraid I left something here last night.
Yes, I think you did.
It's in there.
Young Radical Lawyers? I suppose that means free and easy with other people's husbands.
What? You don't honestly imagine I don't have to imagine anything, do I? It's obvious.
Don't think I fancy Rumpole, do you? Well, I don't see why not.
Rumpole is a character, and some people like that sort of thing.
Look, Mrs Rumpole, please listen.
Dave Inchcape and a load of us gave Rumpole a party to cheer him up because he was Ionely.
Well, he was missing you so terribly.
- He was what? - Missing you.
I saw him at breakfast.
He looked so sad.
"She's left me," he said.
"She's gone off with her cousin Everard.
" - He said that? - He sounded broken-hearted.
He saw nothing ahead, I'm sure, but a Ionely old age stretching out in front of him until until he couldn't take in the milk any more.
Well, anyone could see how much he was missing you.
Oh, well Thank you for telling me that.
I really didn't know.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Miss Mary Skelton, the cashier, was in love.
She was in love with her boss, that larger-than-life cook and character, Jean Pierre O'Higgins.
People do many things for love.
They commit suicide.
They leave home.
Sometimes, they simply pine away.
But it was for love that Miss Mary Skelton caused a live mouse to be served up in the Maison Jean Pierre after having paid the station waiter a considerable sum to perform the trick.
She it was who wanted to ruin the restaurant so that my client's vengeful wife Simonne should get nothing out of it.
(Judge) Mr Rumpole But my client knew nothing of this plot.
He was entirely innocent.
Mr Rumpole, if a restaurant serves unhygienic food, the proprietor is guilty in law.
You are not concerned with the law, members of the jury.
You are concerned with justice! That is a quite outrageous thing to say! On the admitted facts of this case, Mr O'Higgins is clearly guilty.
No British judge has the power to direct a British jury to find a defendant guilty.
I warn you, Mr Rumpole, I shall tell the jury that he is guilty in law.
His Honour may tell you that to his heart's content.
What you do, members of the jury, is a matter between God and your consciences.
Can you, in all conscience, find a man guilty and condemn him to ruin when he was as free of criminal intent and conspiracy as the innocent little mouse itself? Can any of you? Can you? The facts of the matter in this case are in your hands and your hands alone, members of the jury.
My task is done.
The future of that great maïtre de cuisine, Jean Pierre O'Higgins, is in your hands and your hands alone.
(Applause) (Woman) Mr O'Higgins! - You were brilliant.
- I've got one or two left in me yet.
No, all that nonsense about a brief for Philli.
- It was not nonsense, Leonard.
- Claude.
I rang Miss Benbow.
She is going to brief Philli with the minicab murder.
Would Rumpole deceive the court? - Am I getting a brief? - She said nothing about that.
Well, thanks for getting me out of a scrape.
Think nothing of it.
My life is devoted to assisting the criminal classes.
I say, Rumpole.
This is the QC's robing room.
Yes.
Holy ground.
I promised to give a pen to Boll er Ballard.
- Which is his locker? - Over by the window.
Thank you.
There is nothing else for it.
I shall chain up the next one.
Chain it up? Come on, Ballard.
Isn't that a bit drastic? If fellows and ladies in chambers cannot be trusted, I am left with no alternative.
I hate to do this, but tomorrow Henry is being sent for a chain.
Yes.
Look, hang on to that, will you? Could I have 25p for the Evening Standard? Another restaurant may be in trouble.
Why are you never provided with money? Well, he That's That's our old nailbrush! - Oh.
- I'd recognise it anywhere.
- But it's black! - Been cleaning shoes with it? Of course not.
How did it get in here? Oh, evidence gets in anywhere, old love, just like mice.
Cousin Everard about, is he? - He had to go back to Saskatoon.
- Ah.
You knew I'd be back, didn't you, Rumpole? Well, I had hoped.
You couldn't manage without me, could you? - Well, I had a stab at it.
- Liz Probert said that you missed me.
Hilda, of course I missed you.
- Life without a boss - What did you say? - I said you were a frightful loss.
- She said you were terribly Ionely.
I must say I was glad to hear that, Rumpole, because you don't very often say much about your feelings.
Words don't come easily to me, Hilda.
Well, now that you are so pleased to see me back, why don't you take me out for a little celebration? I've become quite accustomed to dining à la carte.
Ha! That's a a very good idea.
I know a little place where we can get it on the mou house.
Un, deux, trois! Steak and kidney pudding! Oh, George, thank you so much.
Bon appétit.
I suppose that's why I enjoy your company, Rumpole.
- Oh, Hilda - Because you are a character.
You need me to tell you off when you go too far.
Hilda, I've got what I want at last.
Mashed spud.
We got an injunction to stop the Great Elk Bank floating the shares and they had to let us take over the Winnipeg Soap Company at the bottom of the market.
Cleared about $4 million for my clients.
(Hilda) Oh, did you hear that? You've never cleared $4 million for your client, have you, Rumpole? You should be a company lawyer, like Cousin Everard.
I'll stick to crime.
It's a more honest type of robbery.
Oh, nonsense! Robbery has never got us a dinner at La Maison Jean Pierre.
If Cousin Everard hadn't come from Saskatchewan, we'd never be here.
Yes, indeed, from the town of Saskatoon.
There, Hilda, all the way from Where? - Saskatoon.
- Saskatoon, Hilda.
Such wonderfully elegant surroundings here.
Think of it, Rumpole.
It takes Cousin Everard from Saskatoon to introduce us to gracious living.
Oh, we have several fine dining restaurants in Saskatoon now, Hilda.
- And igloos and Eskimos.
- (Hilda) What did you say, Rumpole? - "That's good news, heaven knows.
" - What are you staring at, Rumpole? I thought I spotted something familiar in the twilight.
Madame et monsieurs, tonight, Jean Pierre recommends for the main course la poésie de la poitrine du canard aux céleri et épinards cru.
Poésie That's poetry, Rumpole.
Tastes better than that Wordsworth, I shouldn't be surprised.
Tell us about it, Georges.
Whet our appetites.
This is just a few wafer-thin slices of breast of duck marinated in a drop or two of Armagnac, lightly grilled, and served with a celery remoulade and a few leaves of young spinach.
And mash.
- Mashed spuds come with it, do they? - (Hilda) Shh! Rumpole! I will have the poésie.
It sounds delicious.
A culinary experience, Hilda.
Yes, a poésie for me too, please.
- And for monsieur? - Hmm? Oh, I'll have a posy posy of um steak and kidney pudding, not pie, mashed potatoes and a large scoop of boiled cabbage and mustard, please.
- English, if you have it.
- (Hilda) Behave yourself! This pudding is not on our menu.
Oh? "Your pleasure is our delight.
" That's what it says.
Couldn't you ask cookie to pleasure me? Along those lines.
"Cookie"? I do not know what monsieur means by "Cookie.
" Our maïtre de cuisine is Jean Pierre O'Higgins himself.
- He is in the kitchen himself.
- How convenient! Have a word in his shell-like.
Excusez-moi un petit d'instant.
Merci.
- More salt.
- OK.
A customer has ordered steak and kidney pudding with mashed spuds.
- Go on, Georges, you're having me on.
- Incroyable, mais, c'est vrai.
Bloody cheek! Ice-cold insolence! Got to get some discipline into the punters.
Point him out.
I know how to deal with him.
Claude, is there anything wrong? No, no, Tricia, absolutely nothing at all.
- What are you doing with that menu? - The menu? Why? Not doing anything with it in particular.
We have ordered, hours ago.
Oh, no! Your wife's not here, is she? I always seem to be bumping into people's wives.
Philli? No, she's doing some town planning in Cardiff.
It's not Philli I'm worried about, not that I'm worried about anything.
I say, it is fun here, isn't it? Look, Claude, I'm not just a pretty face.
I have been a solicitor for five years.
I know about offenders, and you have the look of a man hiding from the law.
Hiding? From the law? Good heavens, no.
From a lawyer, perhaps.
I say, you can't see a smallish, stoutish person, can you? Next to a formidable lady? Good heavens, Claude.
Isn't that old Rumpole from your chambers? Is he Is he glancing in our direction? Not at all.
He seems to be congratulating the cook.
Am I to understand that there are no mashed spuds for my delight? Look here, my friend, I don't know who you are This is Horace Rumpole, the criminal lawyer.
- It's great to - Criminal lawyer, eh? Well, don't come and commit your crimes in my restaurant.
If you want mashed spuds, I suggest the caff at the end of the street.
Now, that is a helpful suggestion.
You might get a few bangers and a bottle of OK sauce.
That suit your delicate palate, would it? Oh, very well indeed.
I'm not a great one for wafer-thin slices of anything.
No, you don't look it.
Now, let's get this straight.
People who come to my restaurant damn well eat as I tell 'em to.
And no doubt, you win them all over with your irresistible charm.
- Listen to me, Mr - Oh, Rumpole.
- He's my husband, actually.
- Your husband? You have all my sympathy, you unfortunate woman.
- Listen to me, Mr Rumbole - (Mouths) This is a gourmet restaurant.
This is La Maison Jean Pierre.
I have three stars in the Michelin.
I threw out an Arabian king because he ordered filet mignon well-cooked.
I have sent film stars away in tears because they dared to mention thousand island dressing.
I am Jean Pierre O'Higgins, the greatest culinary genius now working in England.
Jean Pierre O'Higgins? Now, there's a very interesting name.
Your fame has spread to Saskatoon.
You were featured in our Gracious Living magazine.
True, and let me tell you, Mr Rumbole (Mouths) I started my career with salads at the Hôtel du Lac, Geneva.
I studied at La Grande Bouffe in Lyons under the great Ducasse.
I was rôtisseur in Le Crillon, Boston.
I've run this restaurant for 20 years, and have never, let me tell you, never in my whole career, served up a mashed spud.
Un, deux, trois! (Tricia screams) Please, don't scream! I say, old darling, they had a live mouse on that table over there.
Is that your spécialité de la maison? I'll get you a coffee.
(O'Higgins) Thanks, Mary.
"Chateau Duddon, the Lake District's most luxurious hotel, "a paradise of gracious living.
" Everard wants to take me up there for a break.
"Sole listener Duddon (Cutlery rattles) "To the breeze that played with thy clear voice (Crockery clangs) "I caught the fitful sound that wafted O'er sullen moss and craggy mound "A paradise in gracious living!" How Wo How Wordsworth would have painted it.
A break from what, pray? From you, Rumpole.
Don't you think I need it? What a disastrous evening when Everard took us out.
Do you think so? I rather enjoyed it.
(Chuckles) Britain's greatest cook laboured and brought forth a monstrous mouse.
(Guffaws) People would pay good money to see that.
- You had to disgrace me, in public.
- Come along, my dear old thing.
There's no disgrace in a good, honest-to-God steak and kidney pud, with or without mash.
You did it because you have to be a character, all the time.
Well, I don't think I can put up with your character much longer, Rumpole.
- My dear old - And I am not your dear old thing! Not any more.
I was, once, perhaps, but I am not your dear old thing any more.
My dear No.
No, I shouldn't have said that.
No.
All right, I won't say it.
What do you mean about my being a character? You have to be one, all the time, with your cigar ash and steak and kidney pudding and Pomeroy's ordinary red and arguments, always arguments, in public.
Why do you have to keep doing it? Arguing in public has been my whole life, Hilda.
Well, it's not mine, not any more.
Everard doesn't argue in public.
Well, now, if you're talking about a fellow that lives on wafer-thin slices of lightly-grilled duck's breast together with a little raw spinach, he probably hasn't got the energy for an argument.
- Thank goodness.
- You like that? Yes, I do.
That is why I agreed to this trip.
- Trip? - Yes.
Everard and I are going to tour all the restaurants with rosettes, York, Bath and Devizes.
Oh, yes? Oh, yes? And what about Mrs Everard? Left her behind in Saskatoon, has he? Everard lost his wife many years ago, Rumpole.
- Walked out into the snow.
- What did you say? Got to go.
I have a conference in chambers.
Yes, well, when I'm off, you can mash all the spuds you want.
Oh, my d Hilda, you're not serious about this eating jaunt, are you? Hurry up, or you'll be late.
I'm sure you can't wait to argue with someone.
- Exit, pursued by a mouse.
- Oh, it's you, Rumpole.
Horace You may have noticed me at Maison Jean Pierre.
Noticed you, Claude? Of course not.
You were with a young lady who screamed like a banshee with toothache.
No-one could possibly have noticed you.
That was purely a business arrangement.
A pretty rum way of doing business.
The young lady was Miss Tricia Benbow, my instructing solicitor in the VAT case.
I've had considerable experience in the law.
If you wish to entertain solicitors to tout for briefs, it's not a good idea to put a mouse in the plat du jour.
Good heavens! You don't imagine I did that? The whole thing was a disaster, an absolute tragedy, which may have appalling consequences.
Sir Erskine-Brown Your wife on the telephone, sir.
Oh.
Philli, how's Cardiff? No, I haven't been out in the evenings.
I stayed at home and cooked myself an omelette.
- Henry - No, no, I'm not bored, no.
Perfectly all right.
Henry, something extremely serious has happened.
- Someone's nicked the nailbrush.
- How did you guess? Well, that corresponds to your idea of serious, Ballard, besides, I happen to notice these things! Odd that you knew what I was talking about.
Not guilty, My Lord.
Didn't your God-bothering society meet here last week? The Lawyers as Christians Committee met here.
What of it? "Cleanliness is next to godliness.
" Isn't that their motto? The devout are notorious nailbrush nickers.
- Think about it.
- Nickers? Yeah My client, Mr Rumpole, first consulted me on another matter.
His marriage is on the rocks.
Some marriages are seldom off them.
Particularly so, as in this case, if the wife's of foreign extraction.
It's been my experience you can't beat foreign wives for being vengeful.
In this case, extremely vengeful.
- Hell hath no fury, Mr Pinhorn? - Exactly, Mr Rumpole.
You've put your finger on the nub of the case.
I haven't done a matrimonial in years.
My divorce may be rusty.
We're not giving you the divorce.
We're sending that to Mr Tite-Smith.
Oh, well, good luck to right little tight little Tite-Smith.
The matrimonial is not my client's only problem.
When troubles come, Mr Pinhorn, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
- He has something else on his plate? - On his plate? (Laughs) That's very apt, that is, and apter than you know.
Don't keep me in suspense.
Who is this mysterious client? I won't divulge his name in case you refuse to act for him, although he's not short of money.
Huh! Horace Rumpole refuse a money brief? (Laughs) Oh, no, no.
He was afraid you'd taken against him, so he's coming to appeal to you.
I've asked Henry to have him shown up.
Henry! Mr O'Higgins, sir.
Is it Horace Rumpole? I rely on you to save me.
You're the man to do it, the great criminal defender.
Oh, I thought I was the criminal in your restaurant.
I have to tell you, Mr Rumpole, your courage took my breath away.
Do you know what he did, Mr Pinhorn, what he had the pluck to do? Only order mashed spuds in La Maison Jean Pierre.
A thing no-one has dared in all my time as maïtre de cuisine.
I tell you, Mr Pinhorn, a man who could do that to Jean Pierre couldn't be intimidated by all the judges of the bench.
No.
What do you say then, Mr Horace Rumpole? Will you take me on? Well, I'll have to think about that.
Be honest.
Is it my personality that makes you hesitate? Do you find me objectionable, Mr Rumpole? Mr O'Higgins, I find your restaurant pretentious, and your portions skimpy.
Your customers regale themselves in a dim, religious atmosphere, more fitting to evensong than a good night out.
I find you an opinionated and self-satisfied bully.
However, unlike you, I am on hire to even the most unattractive customer.
Just listen to that.
How's that for eloquence? We've picked the right one here, Mr Pinhorn.
You haven't done away with this vengeful wife, have you? I should have, but no, Simonne is still alive and suing.
- Isn't that right, Mr Pinhorn? - It is, Mr O'Higgins.
I received a telephone call from the environmental health officer.
My client is being charged with offences relating to dangerous practices at La Maison under the Food and Hygiene Regulations 1970.
"Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie," the cause of panic in his breastie.
- The mouse.
- This is it, Mr Rumpole.
How wonderful! We will elect for a trial by jury.
(Guffaws) At least we'll give them a few laughs, Mr Pinhorn, even if we can't get you off, Mr O'Higgins.
(Speaks Italian) Right, that's you, spaghetti face.
(Speaks Italian) The comis waiter, Alberto Pasquale.
He's Italian.
He saw nothing until they took off the cloche.
- Been with you long, has he? - About a year.
Works hard.
Make a good manager.
So, now, he takes the dishes out, to the station waiter.
(O'Higgins) Gaston LeBlanc.
He's been with me forever.
Works all the hours God made, a sick wife, a kid at university.
Does all sorts of jobs, even on his night off.
He looks under the covers to see what's what.
Gaston said there were only two plates.
He checked one and it was the gentleman's order.
- No side order of mouse.
- Exactly.
He gave the other to Alberto who took it to the lady.
And then the reputation of England's greatest maïtre de cuisine crumbled to dust.
Nonsense.
You're forgetting the reputation of Horace Rumpole.
I'd better go out and keep those Ionely people company.
So, what's our defence? Oh, we'll cook up something in the end.
You know, it's extraordinary, Mr Pinhorn, the power that can be wielded by one of these smaller rodents.
You mean it's wrecked the business? No, no.
It's making Jean Pierre O'Higgins be polite to his customers.
Good morning, Mr Rumpole.
Oh, top of the morning to you, Mrs Rafferty.
Mrs Rafferty, am I a character, in your humble opinion? - Are you a what, Mr Rumpole? - A character.
There was this old fellow Dalrymple we had in chambers donkeys' years ago.
You remember, he had an absolutely filthy flat just off Chancery Lane.
He led a cat around on a length of pink tape.
He dried his socks in front of his electric fire? - Yes.
You remember him? - No.
Well, everybody's very proud of old Dalrymple.
"Ho, ho!" they'd say, "Dalrymple, what a character!" One day, our head of chambers came in.
He said, "They've binned Dalrymple.
"Caught him climbing into the divorce court in his pyjamas.
"Certified insane.
" Am I a character, Mrs Rafferty? Well each to his own, Mr Rumpole.
That's what I always say.
- Mrs Rafferty - Sorry, sir? What's that in your hand? - Oh, this little fellow? - Yes.
It was lying on the floor of the toilet.
Not much of a brush, but it does the job, sir.
It may not be much of a brush, but I know somebody who'd be glad of it.
You want it as a gift, sir? Not exactly as a gift, Mrs Rafferty, more of a sort of surprise, that is if you can spare it.
Well, now, you're quite a character, aren't you, Mr Rumpole? You don't want to know.
It's something you don't want to hear about.
- It's the same with battery hens.
- Battery hens? Nobody wants to know, that's all.
But surely, Liz, battery hens don't get Ionely.
Perhaps they do.
There's an awful lot of Ioneliness about, especially amongst old people.
Rumpole.
You're all alone.
Oh.
Well, yes, I was, yes.
Do you always have breakfast by yourself? Ah, it's not always possible.
- It's a lot easier now, of course.
- Now? Why now, exactly? Well, now my wife's left me.
- Hilda? - Mmm.
- She's left you, Rumpole? - Er yes.
As you would say, Miss Probert, she's no longer sharing a supportive relationship with me in any meaningful way.
But where's she gone? Oh, she's gone off looking for gracious living with her cousin Everard from Saskatoon.
He's got as many jokes in him as the Dow Jones average.
- She's gone off with another man? - That's about the size of it.
Rumpole, why? Because he is rich enough to be able to afford very small portions of food.
- Rumpole - Yes? You know Dave Inchcape and I founded the YRLS, the Young Radical Lawyers? We don't only mean to agitate for law reform, although that's part of it.
We want to go into community work as well.
We could get someone to look at your front door.
My front door? Whatever for? Well, I suppose just to count the milk bottles.
Oh.
(Chuckles) (Knock on door) (Claude) Morning, Ballard.
You're an early bird.
One doesn't like this, but it's the only way.
- You want to catch the worm.
- Worm? What worm? A worm in chambers? What do you mean? Nothing at all.
Just a figure of speech.
One gets worried about standards of hygiene.
I'm briefing this restaurant business.
It makes one think.
Well, yes.
It's been making me think.
I wanted to have a word about the Maison Jean Pierre.
- A chain.
It's the only answer.
- Just my luck that it was my table.
I'm a fairly well-known member of the bar.
Henry will have to find a small padlock.
I don't want my name associated with a ridiculous The fellows in chambers aren't going to like it.
Rumpole will say a great deal, but the chain is the answer.
- The what, Ballard? - Yes.
Yes.
Get a new nailbrush and then chain it up so that nobody can take it.
Can I have your support in taking stern measures? Oh, yes, Ballard.
I'm right behind you.
Of course you can.
In this restaurant case, will you need to call the couple who got the mouse? The couple? Yes.
The mouse was served, appalling lack of hygiene, to a table booked by Mr Claude Erskine-Brown and guest.
Now, he'll be a vital witness.
- You will be a vital witness.
- That's just it.
I can't be a witness.
- There's no way I can be a witness.
- Why not? My name will get into the papers, and Philli will know I had dinner.
Why shouldn't she know you were having dinner? Most people have dinner.
It's nothing to be ashamed of.
Ballard? Sam.
You're a married man.
You should understand these things.
Of course I'm married, and Marguerite and I have dinner.
But I wasn't having dinner with Philli! I was dining with a solicitor.
- This was your guest? - Yes.
- A solicitor? - Of course.
He apparently leapt on a chair, held down his skirt and screamed.
Ballard, the solicitor was Tricia Benbow.
You don't imagine I'd spend a hundred quid on Mr Pinhorn, do you? - Patricia Benbow? - Yes.
The blonde one who wears all the bangles? That's the one.
- She's a woman.
- Yes.
- And your wife knew nothing of this? - And must never know.
Thank you, Ballard.
Thanks awfully, Sam.
Keep my name out of this.
I'll do the same for you, old boy.
- That won't be necessary? - No? Well, thanks anyway.
- But you will have to give evidence.
- Sam! Don't you Sam me! It's all part of the same thing.
Sharp practice over the nailbrush, failure to assist the authorities in an important prosecution.
You had better prepare to give evidence and to be cross-examined by Rumpole for the defence.
Do your duty and take the consequences.
Bastard! We thought of a way of cheering him up.
What's the idea, Miss Probert? Well, actually, it's social work.
Afternoon, all.
Fig Newton.
Mr Pinhorn said Mr Rumpole would like to tell me about a job.
Take a seat, won't you, Mr Newton? I'm expecting Mr Rumpole from court.
Much obliged.
(Liz) He must be going out of his mind, all alone every night.
Shh, Liz! - (Liz) Hello, Rumpole.
Had a good day? - Oh, perfectly charming.
His Honour, Judge Graves rose from the tomb to give my client five years.
Ferdinand Isaac Gerald Newton, private investigator extraordinaire.
- How are you, Fig? - Oh er not so dusty.
- You have a little job for me? - Oh, yes, indeed.
A word with you.
There is a very posh restaurant called La Maison Jean Pierre.
You need a second mortgage to eat there.
A couple of the waiters, I'd like to know what they do.
Gaston LeBlanc You coming to Pomeroy's, Rumpole? No.
Sorry, Dave.
Duty calls me to another watering hole.
And Alberto Pasquale.
(Sings in Italian) Keep your stinking hands off her! She doesn't want to know you.
- Mary can't stand the sight of you! - (Speaks Italian) - Imbecile? Who's an imbecile? - (Speaks Italian) - I've had enough of you! - (Shouts in Italian) Leave it out! One mouse and you behave like a bunch of lunatics! Haven't you wrecked this place enough? Are you going to slaughter each other? Am I interrupting anything? Only the collapse of a great restaurant.
- Aren't we meeting in court? - I had some questions.
I thought I'd call in on my way home.
My wife's away at the moment, and I've forgotten to get anything in for dinner.
Are you hungry, Mr Rumpole? A little terrine Jean Pierre? How about un petit coup de champagne? Oh, I thought you'd never ask.
They fight over her, Mr Rumpole.
Ah, the young Mary Skelton exercises a very powerful attraction.
- She doesn't exactly look the type.
- Maybe she has a warm heart.
Simonne looked the type.
She had a heart like iced consommé.
Oh, yes, your wife.
A vengeful woman, was she? Why would she be vengeful to me, when I am a particularly tolerant and easy-going type of individual? I We're not open yet! What do you think we'll be serving? High tea? Cretins! It's not as though I'm a difficult man.
Oh, no, of course not, a very parfait, gentle cook.
A great artist needs admiration, of course.
He needs almost incessant praise.
And with Simonne, the admiration flowed like cement, did it? Had some experience of wives? A lifetime's experience, you might say.
You'll have to fill all these tables to pay Simonne's alimony, won't you? Well, not exactly.
After the divorce, she'll own half the restaurant.
Ah Now, that was not made clear to me.
Simonne, she was the one with the business sense.
But she's French, so she insisted on us getting married in France.
- Was that wrong? - No.
It was right, for Simonne.
They have a thing there they call community property.
I had to agree to give her half of everything if we broke up.
But you know all about the law.
Well, no, not all about it.
Often, knowledge of the law's a handicap to a barrister.
You are going to get us out of this little trouble, Mr Rumpole? - The business of the mouse.
- Oh, the mouse.
The mouse is the least of your worries.
Thank you.
Thank you very much.
Well, the animals will be arriving.
It's almost feeding time.
Zim Saladin! Haroota mahroopa! And hey oop! "For oft, when on my couch I lie "In vacant or in pensive mood "They flash upon that inward eye "Which is the bliss of solitude.
" (Doorbell rings) She's back! Ah, Hilda - (Rock music) - Party, party, Mr Rumpole! Surprise party, Rumpole.
Cheer you up in your Ioneliness.
My wife's having dinner at the mansion house of the South London Mayors.
No consorts allowed, thank God.
And I hear Mrs Rumpole's done a bunk, sir.
- No, not exactly a bunk, Henry, no.
- Which is why we're on the loose, eh? - Makes you feel young, don't it? - Not particularly young, Henry, no.
What could the Lord Chancellor know about being pregnant and your boyfriend's been arrested for doing dope.
(Phone rings) Very little, I should imagine.
Yes.
- That's the telephone.
- The police, I shouldn't wonder.
- I'll get it.
- Oh, thank you.
Thank you.
Yes, officer? Oh, Hilda! Oh, hello.
(Ballard) Members of the jury, many of you may find this case shocking, concerning, as it does 'His Honour, Judge Gerald Graves, never a friend to Rumpole.
'Look, he's looking at me now 'as though I were a porridge saucepan that hasn't been washed.
'No doubt he lives on a diet of organic bran, iced water 'and colonic irrigation.
'Huh! The last person in the world to laugh this case out of court.
'Ah, well.
I'll have to do my best without him.
' In this highly-expensive, allegedly three-starred restaurant, members of the jury, the environmental health officer discovered cracked tiles, open waste bins, gravy on the ceiling - On the ceiling, Mr Ballard? - Yes, My Lord.
Obviously not a short-order cook.
Absence of nailbrushes in hand basins (Gasps) Horror! All this is bad enough, but on the night of May 18th, a common house mouse was served up to a customer's dinner table.
No doubt, we're dealing, Mr Ballard, with a defunct mouse.
Again, alas, no, My Lord.
The mouse in question was alive.
And kicking.
Need one ask if an establishment is in breach of food hygiene regulations if it serves up a mouse? As proprietor of the restaurant, Mr O'Higgins is, say the prosecution, absolutely responsible.
Whomsoever he seeks to blame in his employ, he must take the consequences.
- I will call my first witness.
- Who is this pompous imbecile? Shh! Quiet! What are your full names, sir? My Lord, may I write them down? There may be some publicity.
- Aren't you a member of the Bar? - Well, yes.
That's nothing to be ashamed of in most cases.
Tell the jury who you are in the usual way.
- Claude Leonard - No, do speak up.
Claude Leonard Erskine-Brown.
Leonard? He's not owned up to that before.
Were you dining at La Maison Jean Pierre? Well, yes.
Yes, I did just drop in.
- For dinner? - Yes.
In the company of a young lady named Patricia Benbow? Ah, well, now, that is Mr Erskine-Brown, it seems a fairly simple question to answer, even for a member of the bar.
I was in Miss Company's Benbow, My Lord.
- And were the plates covered? - Yes, they were.
When the covers were lifted, what happened? - A mouse ran out.
- Do speak up! - A mouse ran out, My Lord! - Hickory, dickory, dock.
(Ballard) Thank you, Mr Erskine-Brown.
(Rumpole) Mr Claude? Leonard Erskine-Brown.
- Is Miss Benbow a solicitor? - Well, yes.
And is your wife a well-known and highly-regarded Queen's counsel? No.
Mrs Erskine-Brown has sat here as a recorder, members of the jury.
(Rumpole) I'm obliged to Your Lordship.
And is Miss Benbow instructed in an important and forthcoming case, that is the Balham minicab murder, in which she intends to instruct Mrs Erskine-Brown QC? I Is she? Were you dining with Miss Benbow in order to discuss the defence in that case, your wife being unfortunately delayed in Cardiff? Was I? Well, weren't you? Oh, yes, of course.
I remember now.
Of course I was.
I did it all to help Philli.
To help my wife.
Is that what you mean? - (Ballard) My Lord - That is exactly what I mean.
Thank you, Horace.
Thank you very much.
Mr Rumpole, when are we coming to the mouse? Thank you, Your Lordship, for reminding me.
- What sort of an animal was it? - A small mouse, hardly noticeable.
A very small mouse, and ha hardly noticeable.
You first saw it when it emerged from under the silver dish cover? You couldn't swear it got there in the kitchen? (Claude) No, I couldn't.
Or if it was inserted by someone who had access to the serving table? Oh, yes, Mr Rumpole, you're perfectly right.
It might have been.
I take it you're not suggesting this creature appeared by some sort of miracle, are you, Mr Rumpole? No, My Lord, not a miracle.
Perhaps a trick.
But isn't Mr Ballard perfectly right? For the purposes of this offence, it doesn't matter how it got there.
A properly-run restaurant should not serve up a mouse for dinner.
- The thing speaks for itself.
- Oh, a talking mouse, My Lord? Mr Rumpole, this is not a place of entertainment.
Remember, this is a most serious case from your client's point of view.
We will continue with it after luncheon.
- Well, the battle continues.
- This is a mysterious case.
It's more than mysterious, Mr Pinhorn.
There is no evidence of droppings, no sign of mice in that kitchen.
No.
The mouse was put under the cover to ruin the business.
- Mrs O'Higgins? - Oh, no.
Certainly not.
She'd want the place to be as prosperous as possible.
No, the guilty person is someone who wanted Simonne to get as little as possible.
So, what did this someone do? You tell me, Mr Rumpole.
Broke a few small rules to begin with, took away the nailbrushes, the covers off the bins, but they needed something sensational, something that would hit the headlines.
They remembered one of the waiters had a talent for sleight of hand.
He had a spare-time job producing livestock out of hats.
- Gaston LeBlanc? - Exactly.
He put the mouse under the cover, handed it to Alberto, who passed it on to the unfortunate Miss Benbow.
Consequence, the ruin of the restaurant and a poor investment for the vengeful Simonne.
Whoever it was must have paid Gaston very well.
Who are we talking about, Mr Rumpole? Ah, well, now, who had the greatest possible reason for hating Simonne? (Pinhorn) Who? (Rumpole) Who other than our client, the great Jean Pierre O'Higgins himself? No! No! It's not true! Jean Pierre knew nothing about it.
It was my idea entirely.
Why should she get anything out of him? Well now, back into court.
Why don't you take a statement from Miss Mary Skelton? We'll call her as a witness.
I'm afraid I left something here last night.
Yes, I think you did.
It's in there.
Young Radical Lawyers? I suppose that means free and easy with other people's husbands.
What? You don't honestly imagine I don't have to imagine anything, do I? It's obvious.
Don't think I fancy Rumpole, do you? Well, I don't see why not.
Rumpole is a character, and some people like that sort of thing.
Look, Mrs Rumpole, please listen.
Dave Inchcape and a load of us gave Rumpole a party to cheer him up because he was Ionely.
Well, he was missing you so terribly.
- He was what? - Missing you.
I saw him at breakfast.
He looked so sad.
"She's left me," he said.
"She's gone off with her cousin Everard.
" - He said that? - He sounded broken-hearted.
He saw nothing ahead, I'm sure, but a Ionely old age stretching out in front of him until until he couldn't take in the milk any more.
Well, anyone could see how much he was missing you.
Oh, well Thank you for telling me that.
I really didn't know.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Miss Mary Skelton, the cashier, was in love.
She was in love with her boss, that larger-than-life cook and character, Jean Pierre O'Higgins.
People do many things for love.
They commit suicide.
They leave home.
Sometimes, they simply pine away.
But it was for love that Miss Mary Skelton caused a live mouse to be served up in the Maison Jean Pierre after having paid the station waiter a considerable sum to perform the trick.
She it was who wanted to ruin the restaurant so that my client's vengeful wife Simonne should get nothing out of it.
(Judge) Mr Rumpole But my client knew nothing of this plot.
He was entirely innocent.
Mr Rumpole, if a restaurant serves unhygienic food, the proprietor is guilty in law.
You are not concerned with the law, members of the jury.
You are concerned with justice! That is a quite outrageous thing to say! On the admitted facts of this case, Mr O'Higgins is clearly guilty.
No British judge has the power to direct a British jury to find a defendant guilty.
I warn you, Mr Rumpole, I shall tell the jury that he is guilty in law.
His Honour may tell you that to his heart's content.
What you do, members of the jury, is a matter between God and your consciences.
Can you, in all conscience, find a man guilty and condemn him to ruin when he was as free of criminal intent and conspiracy as the innocent little mouse itself? Can any of you? Can you? The facts of the matter in this case are in your hands and your hands alone, members of the jury.
My task is done.
The future of that great maïtre de cuisine, Jean Pierre O'Higgins, is in your hands and your hands alone.
(Applause) (Woman) Mr O'Higgins! - You were brilliant.
- I've got one or two left in me yet.
No, all that nonsense about a brief for Philli.
- It was not nonsense, Leonard.
- Claude.
I rang Miss Benbow.
She is going to brief Philli with the minicab murder.
Would Rumpole deceive the court? - Am I getting a brief? - She said nothing about that.
Well, thanks for getting me out of a scrape.
Think nothing of it.
My life is devoted to assisting the criminal classes.
I say, Rumpole.
This is the QC's robing room.
Yes.
Holy ground.
I promised to give a pen to Boll er Ballard.
- Which is his locker? - Over by the window.
Thank you.
There is nothing else for it.
I shall chain up the next one.
Chain it up? Come on, Ballard.
Isn't that a bit drastic? If fellows and ladies in chambers cannot be trusted, I am left with no alternative.
I hate to do this, but tomorrow Henry is being sent for a chain.
Yes.
Look, hang on to that, will you? Could I have 25p for the Evening Standard? Another restaurant may be in trouble.
Why are you never provided with money? Well, he That's That's our old nailbrush! - Oh.
- I'd recognise it anywhere.
- But it's black! - Been cleaning shoes with it? Of course not.
How did it get in here? Oh, evidence gets in anywhere, old love, just like mice.
Cousin Everard about, is he? - He had to go back to Saskatoon.
- Ah.
You knew I'd be back, didn't you, Rumpole? Well, I had hoped.
You couldn't manage without me, could you? - Well, I had a stab at it.
- Liz Probert said that you missed me.
Hilda, of course I missed you.
- Life without a boss - What did you say? - I said you were a frightful loss.
- She said you were terribly Ionely.
I must say I was glad to hear that, Rumpole, because you don't very often say much about your feelings.
Words don't come easily to me, Hilda.
Well, now that you are so pleased to see me back, why don't you take me out for a little celebration? I've become quite accustomed to dining à la carte.
Ha! That's a a very good idea.
I know a little place where we can get it on the mou house.
Un, deux, trois! Steak and kidney pudding! Oh, George, thank you so much.
Bon appétit.
I suppose that's why I enjoy your company, Rumpole.
- Oh, Hilda - Because you are a character.
You need me to tell you off when you go too far.
Hilda, I've got what I want at last.
Mashed spud.