Rumpole of the Bailey (1978) s06e05 Episode Script

(Man coughs, baby cries) (Buzzer) - Patient Liptrott? - That's me.
Dr Rahmat will see you now.
- It's my throat.
It's tormenting me.
- Open your mouth, please.
- Wider.
Say "ah".
- Aaaahh Good.
Now, if you could just lie down on the couch for me, please.
Good.
- But it's my throat, Doctor.
- Yes, I know.
Good.
Ah! Now if you could just slip down your trousers for me, please.
Don't take them off entirely.
Beast! - He's a beast - Is Dr Rahmat finished with you? Finished with me? Oh, that's funny.
I am dying, Egypt! (Vacuum cleaner whirs) Dying! Can that have anything to do with the fact you were up until all hours? Celebrating the elevation of Hoskins to the bench? Well I suppose that's the rule nowadays.
If you're no good at the bar, they make you into a bloomin' circus judge.
I am surprised Uncle Tom isn't Lord Chancellor by now.
- When are you getting up? - Perhaps never There's nothing today except a chambers meeting.
If my clerk rings, tell him Rumpole's life is ebbing quie - Quietly away.
- Then I'd better call the doctor.
No, Hilda, please, not another old quack like MacClintock, who put me on a starvation diet then dropped off the twig himself.
- Plenty of other doctors in the surgery.
- Ugh The General Medical Council? I never thought it would go as far as that! Well, we're all behind you.
I can't believe you'd do anything so foolish.
Of course, we've all been tempted.
But I wasn't tempted.
I was not tempted at all.
- That's the whole point of the matter.
- Oh, Doctor.
- Didn't know you were here, Doctor.
- That's all right.
A Mrs Rumpole called for a doctor.
She wants a call-round on her husband.
Oh! Old Rumpole! He's a barrister, Rahmat.
You'd better go and do your best for him.
In all the circumstances.
And how is the great barrister-at-law feeling now? - Near to death.
- We are all near to death, sir.
But I am sure Mr Rumpole will survive us all.
Rahmat, senior medical doctor.
Not as imposing a title as barrister-at-law.
Mrs Rumpole, your husband looks as strong as a horse.
I certainly don't feel it.
Could that possibly be because horses don't drink much Pomeroy's plonk? The slightest noise, I feel as if my head's cracking.
Temporary, sir, only temporary.
Now, if you will breathe in for me.
(Wheezes) In, out, in, out.
And for the last time, in, out.
Well, there'll be no need for the flags to fly at half-mast over the Old Bailey.
Tomorrow there will be rejoicing there.
Word will go round, and crowds will be cheering, "Our great barrister-at-law is returning to us.
" What a fine lung you have, sir! - A pleasure to listen to you.
- There's nothing wrong, is there? I diagnose a case of the collywobbles, brought on by food poisoning.
- Food poisoning? I hardly think so.
- For which I prescribe two Alka Seltzers and a glass of water, black coffee, and a quiet day in bed with kindness and consideration from your charming wife.
- Oh, well, thank you, Doctor.
- Think nothing of it, sir.
Perhaps one day I'll ask you to help me out of a bit of a hole.
By all means.
What crime were you thinking of committing? No crime, sir.
No crime at all.
Mrs Etheridge then caused her white BMW vehicle to skid off the Uxbridge Road and mount the pavement, terrorising passers-by.
She then collided with a municipal disposal bin, wrecked a mobile shopping basket, and finally crashed into a lamppost.
Questioned by the officers, she said, "Do call me Bambi, darling.
"And can't we forget all about it?" I would say this was eccentric and dangerous behaviour, even for a lady driver.
Er Did my learned friend say, "Even for a lady driver"? He did, Mr Rumpole.
My hearing is particularly keen and I heard him quite distinctly.
"Even for a lady driver.
" Perhaps my learned friend can help me.
Is my unfortunate client being put on trial for dangerous driving or simply because she is a woman? That's exactly what I should like to know.
I am very sorry.
I didn't mean to infer I mean well Surely I mean, we all have the greatest respect and, indeed, affection, for ladies.
Mr Govett, this is a perfectly ordinary driving case.
Perhaps you could manage to keep sex out of it.
You got me off! You're an absolute sweetie! - Please, Mrs Etheridge.
- Do call me Bambi.
Everyone does.
Mrs Etheridge, I did not get you off, the prosecutor got you off when he started on about lady drivers.
How can I reward you, Mr Rumpole, darling? What about a naughty lunch with just the two of us? Can you get an afternoon off? - I'm afraid that's quite impossible.
- Of course you can.
Do you enjoy scrumptious desserts as much as I do? Of course you do.
All men enjoy scrumptious desserts.
- It's settled.
I'll give you a tinkle.
- I never lunch out.
Pressure of work.
Tut-tut-tut! All work and no play make Mr Rumpole a dull boy.
And I am sure you're not that, are you? Goodbye, Mrs Etheridge.
Mr Rumpole! Has anyone ever told you you're a very cuddly kind of barrister? (Mr Rumpole sings) Ah, Rumpole, there you are.
Last week, I put up a notice, "Remember the Forests of the Earth.
Save Paper.
" So you did.
Some person has scribbled across the bottom, "Yes, "and don't waste it on bloody silly notices.
" That seems like fair comment.
I have certain responsibilities, as head of Chambers.
- One is to the forests of the earth.
- Quite right.
- Something you might like to know.
- About the forests? No, about our new pupil, Mrs Heather Whittaker.
- She is a thoroughly nice person.
- We could do with a few of those! Yes, we could.
She is no longer young, Rumpole.
She is taking up the bar in middle life.
She is here as a pupil to Erskine-Brown - and will help him out in court.
- She doesn't work full-time, then? I think you were away sick when we agreed to take her on.
- Oh! I was dying! - Really? - I changed my mind.
- I want to make something clear to you.
Mrs Whittaker is not the type of person to enjoy rough behaviour in Chambers.
She won't relish people who scribble obscenities on notice boards.
- It wasn't obscene! - I'm glad you admit you wrote it.
I never plead guilty.
I have to confer about hanky-panky on the National Health! Through all my troubles and tribulations, I had only one thought: That I have an absolutely wizard barrister-at-law.
Well I can't work miracles.
- Tell me about yourself, Dr Rammat.
- Rahmat.
- Rahmat.
Are you married? - Was married, sir.
The memsahib died giving birth to our son.
When you first came to England, you went to old MacClintock's? - Yes, he was very kind to me.
- And when Dr Cogger took over? The same.
Tim Cogger is a thoroughly good chap with a fine sense of humour.
Do you know what they said about him at Barts? He was a very fine joker.
- Perhaps not a brilliant doctor but - Are you? - What? - A brilliant doctor.
Most of us are not.
Most of us are at a loss more than we'd like to admit.
But we try to be kind and cheerful and wait for the disease to go away.
Well, that's frank, anyway.
But I am afraid that Miss Liptrott is not very likely to go away.
No! What a pain in the neck that girl If one could be so rude about a young Had you seen her before she came that morning? No and I hope I never shall see her again.
- What does she look like? - I can help you there, Mr Rumpole.
She got herself plastered all over "The Beacon".
There she is, Mr Rumpole, a children's nurse.
Looks a perfectly nice sort of girl, unfortunately for us.
Aged 27, works for a wealthy Kensington family as a nanny.
"Went to the surgery with a sore throat but the doctor had other ideas, "told me to lie on the couch and undress.
" - "Dr Ghulam Rahmat" - Rahmat.
"who came to England 12 years ago said, 'I'll fight this to the last stitch.
"'I have the best barrister in the country.
"' Well, that's true.
- I never took a shine to her, I swear.
- All right.
What's our defence? Whenever I ask the client that, he mentions a book.
About some passage.
Our defence is the same as Forster's fine novel, "A Passage To India".
- I'm sure you know it well.
- Oh, of course! Just remind me of the plot, will you? In it, an English girl accuses an Indian doctor of raping her in the Malabar Caves.
I told the client the tribunal won't be interested in stories about Indian caves.
Yes, now let him finish.
What was the doctor's defence in that case? That it all went on in the fevered imagination of the girl.
- And what was the verdict? - He was acquitted, of course! And you will enjoy a similar triumph, great barrister-at-law.
Let's hope so.
As Mr Pinhorn says, that was a work of fiction.
We have to deal with fact.
Tell me, Dr Rahmat, your precise clinical reasons for asking a young lady with a sore throat to remove her underwear.
Phylli! Darling! No, no, let me.
- So the fraud's all over? - All over and all convicted.
- Did you have fun in Swansea? - Don't ask silly questions.
It's wonderful to have you back.
Of course, the children have been good.
But you can't crack a bottle to discuss scandals in Chambers with kids.
- Have you been up to something? - You're looking absolutely alluring! - You have been up to something.
- Look, I'll just drop these in my room and we'll go for a drink in Pomeroy's to celebrate your return.
Scandal in chambers? What is the scandal in chambers? I don't know.
I am sure there must be some but I have no idea what it is.
- Claude.
- Yes, Phylli? - Are you the scandal in chambers? - Of course not.
Not this time.
Not ever! How could you think such a thing? - You've got new pictures.
- Those are my pupil's.
Heather.
She came while you were away.
You'd like her.
- Would I? - She's got grey hair and glasses.
She's well past her sell-by date.
You sound as though you invented chauvinism.
I like women.
I like them very much indeed.
Not all women.
Naturally, I don't like all of them.
You, especially.
Just you, Phylli, in that sort of way, of course.
Mrs Whittaker would never tempt me, if I were ever to be tempted.
Which I'm not.
Not in the least.
(Knock at door) - Henry.
How wonderful to see you.
- You saw me this morning, sir.
- It's wonderful again.
Is that a brief? - What does it look like? Autumn roses? Tomorrow you are on before Mr Justice Graves in Court No.
3.
(Henry and Erskine-Brown chatter) Thank you, Henry.
Phylli, darling.
Are you ready for that drink? Yes, Claude, quite ready.
- Um It's Mr Rumpole, isn't it? - A piece of him.
I've been so longing to meet you.
I'm Heather Whittaker.
Erskine-Brown's pupil.
I've taken to the bar rather late in life, I'm afraid.
Just as well.
The young can't stand the pace.
You're a legend, Mr Rumpole.
Of course you know that.
I am absolutely dying to hear you on your feet.
Why don't you pop down to the General Medical Council? A doctor's in trouble.
Hilda! I am home! Sans Pomeroy's, straight as an arrow shot from the bow.
You're wanted on the telephone.
By a woman who apparently rejoices in the name of Bambi Etheridge.
- Did you tell her I was dead? - No.
I said, "Hilda Rumpole.
" She said, "Is your lovely husband home?" And I said, "I can hear Rumpole's key in the lock.
" - What does she want? - I don't know.
You better ask her.
- Rumpole speaking.
- Oh, dear.
It's a bad moment.
You're with your wife, aren't you? Ought I to have pretended to be the Gas Board, or something? 'I can't advise you to appeal.
' You'll have to pay them yourself.
Of course! You can't talk now, can you, Mr Rumpole, darling? I'll ring again when you are not in the bosom of your family.
An appeal would simply be throwing good money after bad.
'What a thing to say! You're not bad money, are you, Mr Rumpole? 'Lunch is on me.
I'll ring again when you're alone.
Bye.
' (Rumpole) 'Extraordinary thing.
'Women seem to be falling over each other to ask me to lunch.
' With the lamb, Château Beychevelle suit you, would it, Rumpole? I dare say I could force it down.
Number 52.
Thank you, madame.
Well, what are we celebrating? They putting you up on the high court bench? They are not putting me anywhere.
Where am I putting myself? I have just about had it up to here.
Oh, dear, what can I do? You can help me spend Claude's money.
I hope he finds that boring.
- The Chablis, madame.
- Fine.
Rumpole, tell me honestly.
- Am I a rut? - A what? A rut.
- No - Would you call me humdrum? - Would madame care to taste this? - Just slosh it about.
- Am I run-of-the-mill? - Not in the least.
- Yes.
Men are all the same.
- Are we? Perhaps not you, Rumpole, but then you are not really interested, are you? - Interested in what? - What everyone else male thinks of.
Sex.
Is that the stuff that leads to embarrassing telephone calls? - Look at that wretched doctor of yours.
- Dr Rahmat.
A woman wanders in with a sore throat and he is trying to get inside her knickers.
Just like Claude.
Claude looks after people with sore throats? I'll prosecute the life out of him.
He'll be struck off for ten years.
- Who, Claude? - No, Dr Rahmat.
What has Dr Rahmat got to do with you? I'm prosecuting him, that's all, before the General Medical Council.
First rate, I shall have a foeman worthy of my steel.
Sorry, foeperson.
Yes, I don't know how you could defend someone like that.
You know perfectly well I have to defend someone like anyone.
- You couldn't defend a real snake.
- Dr Rahmat? - No, Claude! - Oh, Lord, Claude What's our unfortunate learned friend been up to now? Let me read you something.
Thank you.
"Barrister, good-Iooking and young at heart" Hold on.
"In a rut, bored with the humdrum of run-of-the-mill married life "seeks new partner for the occasional fling.
Country walks, opera-going, "four-star restaurant treats and the pleasures of the flesh.
"Tall and slender preferred.
Write with a photo, if possible" A box number.
- Yes, well? - Read it for yourself if you want to.
No, Rumpole, not there.
Where I turned down the page.
Yes, where? Oh, I see, yes.
What makes you think Claude is the Ionely heart? He's a barrister and he's opera-going.
There are six thousand barristers.
Some must go to the opera.
I'm sorry, Mrs Erskine-Brown, I don't think your evidence is absolutely conclusive.
I found that in Claude's room in chambers.
Oh, things are beginning to look black for the accused.
Do you mind if I hang on to this for half an hour this afternoon? Ah - 'Hello.
' - Oh, hello.
Is that the Naughty Marietta Escort Service? 'Yeah.
' Would it be possible to speak to Marietta herself, please? 'This is Marietta speaking.
' - Marietta Liptrott, I presume? - 'Here, are you the newspapers? ' No, no, no, I promise you.
Just someone in need of your escort service.
'When's the function? ' It's not for me, exactly, it's for a friend of mine.
He wants to take you along to add a little colour to the Ladies Night at the Lawyers As Christians Society.
I'll be in touch with the arrangements.
Nice to talk to you, Miss Liptrott.
Rumpole, is this your idea of a joke? You should not listen to a private conversation.
- I couldn't help overhearing.
- Of course you could.
You were using chambers facilities to telephone an escort agency.
Rumpole, you are a married man.
Oh, that fact has not escaped my attention.
Well, don't you think you ought to make a clean breast of this to Hilda? A clean breast of what? The fact that you are troubled by these sort of, well, needs.
Ballard, when you are next troubled by the need to talk absolute balderdash, why don't you make a clean breast of it to Matey? Have you finished with that wretched magazine? Yes, Exhibit A, thank you.
Most helpful.
Well, what are you going to do, confront the unfortunate Claude? Confront him? No good at all.
He'd pretend it wasn't him, or something devious.
No, I shall set a trap for him and leave him absolutely no way of escape.
Poor old Claude.
Poor old Dr Rahmat.
What chance has either of them got? What's all that? Oh, I'm studying medicine.
If all else fails, I may set up as a quack.
- Sorry, it's only the rut.
- That's all right, darling.
Anything interesting in the post this morning? No, absolutely nothing.
Nothing from anyone tall and slender? This one's from HM Inspector of Taxes.
Bloomsbury District.
- I don't know if he's tall and slender.
- Or if he likes country walks.
- Sorry? - Thinking of going on a country walk? You know I hate country walks.
You get your shoes dirty.
I know you didn't mean walks.
That's not what you had in mind.
Phylli, I'm not entirely following your drift.
I'll let you read your letters.
I hope they're from fat people.
They're all circulars.
Bills and things, honestly.
And the one you threw away? I saw you throw a letter straight into the waste-paper basket.
I haven't seen you move so quickly for years.
- If you want to know what it was, look.
- Oh, no, please don't bother.
We're having dinner with the Arthurian-Daybells.
Unless you've fixed up a treat in some four-star restaurant.
"Are your pipes fully lagged for the winter? "One call from our Lag-U-Man prevents frozen-tap misery.
" There, is that what you wanted to see? Oh, very clever, Claude, very clever indeed.
You think you've wormed your way out of it again, don't you? Your missus quite all right, is she? Of course.
Perfectly all right.
- She didn't seem to notice me at all.
- Well, I suppose not.
I got in early today to do some extra practice.
I'm not usually here before the clerks.
Your missus seems to have got some strange ideas into her head.
- Oh, why do you say that? - We had a fellow in chambers, Ibotson.
Ibby Ibotson we used to call him, most charming fellow.
But his missus got the idea into her head that she was the reincarnation of Nell Gwynne.
She used to come into the clerks' room and offer to sell us oranges.
Poor old Ibby, he had to leave the bar and take her to live in Littlehampton.
- I'm not sure if that cured her.
- Uncle Tom! There's nothing wrong with Phyllida.
Oh, well, if you say so.
It's just a sort of a joke we have together, that's all.
Oh, really? How frightfully funny.
I've arranged for you to see Dr Cogger.
Oh, why on earth? My health is excellent.
- Thanks to my sensible lifestyle.
- Marguerite Ballard rang this morning.
She said that Sam was very worried about your health.
That you'd been acting rather strangely lately.
What have you been doing strange? - I suppose phoning up escorts.
- What did you say? I said, I suppose I was feeling out of sorts.
Well, if you're feeling out of sorts, stop complaining to me.
I've arranged for you to see Dr Cogger at morning surgery.
- Looking for a friend? - Really! I don't know what you mean.
Lots of people advertise for friends in this.
You take "Casanova" regularly? Oh, no.
As a matter of fact, the cleaner found it in a doctor's waste-paper basket.
She was going to put it out, but I thought I'd just have a look.
Ah, Dr Cogger's free, is he? I gather from your wife you have some sort of problem.
Failing eyesight, perhaps.
I saw you in the Savoy Grill, I raised my glass to you, but you didn't recognise me.
The Savoy Grill? It's a bit out of the class of a struggling GP.
- Then it wasn't you? - I hardly think so.
Now, tell me why your wife made this appointment? Well, somebody told her I was behaving rather strangely in Chambers.
Behaving strangely? What sort of strangely? Ringing up escort agencies.
Escort agencies? But why ever should you do that? I suppose they thought I needed an escort.
You mean young girls to take out to dinner? That sort of thing? Yes, that sort of thing.
My dear Mr Rumpole, I shouldn't let that worry you in the least.
A lot of men, perfectly decent chaps in my experience, feel the need of young, fresh well, young company occasionally.
It doesn't mean they're sick in any way.
- Is that what you think? - Oh, yes, I do, quite honestly.
Oh, then you're probably familiar with this friendly little magazine.
- I don't think so.
- Are you sure? It's full of advertisements for escorts, companions, people for a night out on the town.
That sort of thing.
Is it? Well, it certainly seems to have interested you.
Yes, your receptionist told me that it was found in one of the doctor's rooms.
Mr Rumpole, my partners are all big boys now.
I really can't be expected to nanny them.
Perhaps I should have, when I think of the trouble Rahmat's got himself into.
Now, what would you say your problem is medically? Medically, I can't sleep.
I seem to wake up at one in the morning and worry about poor old Dr Rahmat.
I suppose you'll give him an excellent character.
Well um That's a little awkward.
I'll say everything I can for him, of course, but I've been asked to be a witness for the prosecution.
Ah.
Look, I'll write you out some pills.
Phobomorin, perfectly harmless.
Phobomorin? "Not poppy nor mandragora nor all the drowsy syrups of the world "would lay a medicine me to that sweet sleep which I owedest yesterday.
" I know, it's distressing for all of us when a doctor goes off the rails.
Just a few chocs, Miss Dankwerts.
Really, you shouldn't, Mr Kellaway.
They are naughty, but irresistible.
A little goodwill present from Marchmain's Medicines.
You've always been so helpful.
Now, is Dr Cogger free? Yes, I'm sure.
You've finished with Dr Cogger, haven't you? Oh, yes.
For the moment.
- Can I help you, Mrs Erskine-Brown? - I'm going to borrow Diane's typewriter.
I'll be going home, then.
Mrs Erskine-Brown, I said I was going home.
- Don't let me stop you.
- I'd be glad if you did.
Goodnight, Henry.
The wife having invited the Chair of the Ways and Means over for a bite to discuss rubbish disposal in the borough and matters arising.
It's not the sort of thing one hurries home to Mrs Erskine-Brown, honestly.
I mean, going home's probably a different matter for you entirely.
You go home to Mr Erskine-Brown and the kiddies.
Henry, are you trying to tell me you've got problems? Oh.
Well yes.
If you've got problems, keep them to yourself.
I've got problems up to here.
I can't manage another person's problems.
Is that clear? If that's the way you feel, Mrs Erskine-Brown.
"Dear barrister, "I am slim, intelligent and considered attractive.
"I am also bored with the humdrum of married life.
"I am absolutely crazy about the opera and country walks.
"I am busy at the moment, but suggest we meet a week next Thursday "at a place convenient to you.
The Temple Churchyard at 6pm.
"Shall we both wear white carnations? "I am looking forward eagerly to the ensuing fun and games.
"Yours sincerely, In A Rut.
" Oh, Doctor! Dr Rahmat! Ah, the great barrister-at-law! Looking extremely fit, if I may say so.
I wanted to see you, there's a question I should've asked.
Mr Pinhorn's been trying to get in touch with you at the surgery.
Alas, I am seldom there these days.
The patients don't seem too keen on seeing me.
But shall we walk along? I have an appointment.
It's about Dr Cogger.
Did you and he ever quarrel about anything? Look, if I'm going to defend you, you've got to trust me.
Well, yes, we did have a few words once.
About drugs.
Drugs? He was always wanting us to prescribe new drugs.
Very expensive, from Marchmain's.
They are always experimenting.
So I said to him, my patients would be just as well off with a few kind words and a couple of aspirins.
And what was his reaction to that? Oh, poor old Tim got into a most terrible bate.
He went as far as to say that he didn't want partners who were so pig-ignorant on the subject of new drugs.
I'm sure it was all said in the heat of the moment and he didn't mean it.
Well, I am most reluctant to part, but I have an appointment.
I'll come in, you can buy me a beer or something.
It would be such a pleasure.
Some other time.
This appointment is of a rather private nature.
(Sitar music) (Phone rings) - Hello.
- 'Is Horace there? 'This is Bambi speaking.
' This is a recorded message.
Sorry.
We are not available.
Leave your name and number, we will contact you on our return from Tasmania.
Beep! This is a distressing case of a doctor's violent and unprovoked sexual assault upon a young woman patient.
(Rumpole) 'Totally surrounded by quacks.
'Quacks who save their patients' lives 'or launch them into eternity with one slip of the scalpel.
'OId quacks who applied leeches as a cure for pneumonia.
'Quacks who thought sex made you blind, and quacks as judges.
'Waiting to decide the professional life or death of good Dr Ghulam Rahmat.
'Oh, the quack in charge, Sir Hector MacAuliffe.
'Sawbones by appointment to Royalty.
'The grim look of a man who starts the day with porridge and prayers.
'What on earth has poor old Rahmat got to look so cheerful about? 'It can't be the way our Portia is opening her case.
' Dr Rahmat then put his hand between her legs, tried to kiss her and suggested there was time for a quick one.
Meaning sexual intercourse, Mrs Erskine-Brown? This is what we ask the committee to infer.
Miss Liptrott had to struggle to free herself from the doctor's embraces, and when she pulled her clothes back on, she fled from the room.
She was still screaming, "The beast," in the reception area where she was seen by waiting patients and Miss Dankwerts, the receptionist.
After the incident, she suffered extreme bouts of nervous depression and was treated for that complaint by Dr Cogger, a member of the practice I shall call as a witness.
She puts the case most fairly, and old Tim Cogger will be fair to me, also.
Dr Cogger is an extremely busy General Practitioner.
Of course, Mrs Erskine-Brown.
Dr Cogger is well-known to most of us.
He has to get away to his practice.
Any objection to my calling him before Miss Liptrott? Oh, that suits us.
If I can blast Cogger out of the water, we'll have an easier job with Marietta.
No need to blast anyone out of the water.
He must not attack poor old Tim Cogger.
Do tell Rahmat to put a sock in it, will you? I have no objection to my learned friend calling Dr Cogger first.
Absolutely not.
Dr Cogger, please.
Is Dr Rahmat a good doctor, in your view? I've always found him so, within his limitations.
So if a young woman patient came to a competent doctor with a sore throat, can you think of any good clinical reason why he should ask her to lie down on a couch and remove her knickers? - I'm afraid I can't.
- Thank you very much, Dr Cogger.
Dr Cogger.
You are no doubt familiar with infectious mononucleosis, known as glandular fever? Of course.
Is it not so prevalent among young people that is it called the kissing disease? I think you may take it, Mr Rumpole, that we all know what glandular fever is.
I would have thought so, sir.
That is why I can't understand anyone thinking Dr Rahmat's method of examination in any way peculiar.
Is not a symptom of glandular fever a sore throat? - It can be.
- It may be the patient's only complaint.
- That may happen.
- So if you suspect glandular fever, you might look for other signs such as swellings in the armpits and the groin? - You might.
- A competent doctor would do so.
- If he suspected mononucleosis, yes.
- Yes.
So that if a young lady complaining of a sore throat came to a competent doctor, he might well ask her to lie on the couch and remove her knickers so that he could examine her groin.
It's possible.
Dr Cogger, are you here to assist the committee by telling us the truth? Yes, of course.
Then why did you tell my learned friend that you know of no reason why Dr Rahmat should examine her in the way described? I suppose the complaint you're suggesting didn't occur to me.
I see.
You mean that you are a competent doctor and like Dr Rahmat, within your limitations, and your limitations lead you to forget the odd disease occasionally.
I hope, Mr Rumpole, you're not suggesting that a routine examination by a competent doctor includes trying to kiss his patient and suggesting there might be time for a quick one.
At this point, sir, I am suggesting nothing.
Dr Cogger, you said that you were treating Miss Liptrott for nervous strain.
- Did you give her a couple of aspirins? - No, Phobomorin, as I remember.
Ah, Phobomorin! Yes, that seems to be a favourite of yours.
Is this an expensive drug? I believe it is.
I haven't looked up the price lately.
And is it supplied by the firm of manufacturing chemists whose representative buys you luncheon at the Savoy Hotel? Peter Kellaway is a personal friend.
We lunch together occasionally.
The last time you lunched, who paid? - I can't remember.
- Oh, well, do try to think.
It may have been Peter.
Or his company, Marchmain's, the manufacturing chemist? Mr Rumpole, we are here to decide if your client sexually assaulted his patient.
What on earth has Dr Cogger's lunches at the Savoy got to do with it? I quite agree, sir, these questions can't possibly be relevant.
You said that Dr Rahmat had certain limitations.
Did you mean that he was unwilling to prescribe certain drugs? We had some disagreements, yes.
I thought his treatments old-fashioned.
He did not want to prescribe expensive drugs from Marchmain's? I suppose some drugs we disagreed about came from Marchmain's, yes.
Yes.
Tell me.
Did you only get four-star luncheons or did a little cash change hands occasionally? Perhaps I should warn the witness, Dr Cogger, you are not obliged to answer any questions which might incriminate you.
- Do you follow? - I do.
- I prefer not to answer the question.
- Don't be too rough, sir.
You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs.
And seeing that Dr Rahmat refused to take part in your prescription racket, you wanted him out of the practice.
It's very hard to get rid of a partner, as you know, Mr Rumpole.
Very hard, unless, of course, you can have him found guilty of professional misconduct.
Mr Rumpole, you're not suggesting I went into his room and tempted him to seduce me, are you? Would you just take a look at that, please? Oh! What are you doing to the poor chap, sir? Wait and see.
Does that not appear to be an advertisement for an escort service? It would seem so.
Do you see the photo of the young lady who calls herself Naughty Marietta? Yes, I do.
Is not that Miss Marietta Liptrott, the complainant in this case? The young lady who you say you are treating for a nervous disorder? - Really, there is no need for this, sir.
- Sshh! - It looks like her.
- It is her.
The so-called children's nurse we hear so much about goes to restaurants for money.
Rather like you, Dr Cogger.
- What are you suggesting? - You know perfectly well, don't you? I am suggesting, sir, that you paid this young lady to create that scene in Dr Rahmat's consulting room.
That is absolutely ridiculous.
I didn't even know of Miss Liptrott until after the incident took place.
Did you not? The incident we hear of took place on August 13th of this year.
Look at the front of that "Casanova" magazine.
What is the date on it? - July.
- July, yes.
And we know where the magazine was found.
- Then he asked me to lie on the couch.
- Did that strike you as rather strange? - Not really, not at the time.
- Did you lie on the couch? Oh, yeah, he said he just wanted to see if I had any swellings.
Would I mind him feeling? And I said no.
Did he remove your knickers? Er No, I think I may have pulled them down.
And then? What happened then? I'm not quite sure.
Er I think he examined me, like, and then he went to wash his hands at the basin in the corner.
- What did you do? - Oh! I ran screaming out the door.
- What made you do that? - I don't know, really.
Er Well, I had been up late with this gentleman.
He kept me talking half the night about mortgage rates.
I was overtired, my nerves were bad, I suppose I just lost control of myself.
Miss Liptrott, you made a statement to the General Medical Council to the effect that Dr Rahmat had made improper advances to you.
I'd made such a fuss in the surgery, and stuff, I thought I had to give some reason for it.
But I always meant to tell the truth when I got here.
What is the truth, Miss Liptrott? The truth is that Dr Rahmat always behaved like a proper gentleman.
We've won.
Portia's going to throw in her hand.
Sir, in view of these answers, we do not feel it would be right to continue with the case.
Mr Rumpole, during the course of your cross-examination, you made certain serious allegations against Dr Cogger.
Withdrawn, sir, unreservedly.
Oh, do shut up.
Yes, very well.
They're withdrawn.
As far as we are concerned, Dr Cogger is as pure as the driven slush.
- What was that? - Snow, sir, driven snow, I said.
Thank you, Mr Rumpole, and now, Miss Marietta Liptrott The next time you are feeling overtired, please resist the temptation to make scandalous allegations - against an innocent doctor.
- Yes.
You have put a large number of distinguished medical men and lawyers to a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
The girl in "A Passage To India", the one that was supposed to be raped, she withdrew her story in court.
Yes, right.
Old EMF.
Always so true.
- Do you think Marietta read the book? - Perhaps.
It's such a fine novel.
So, Cogger put her up to it? Oh, yes.
He thought I'd tumbled to why he wanted all of us to use the Marchmain drugs.
He tried to get rid of me, so he hired Marietta.
- How do you know? - She told me.
- You talked to her? - Oh, yes.
I've taken her out to dinner quite often.
We go to the tandoori restaurant, Memories Of India, Gloucester Road.
I didn't think it was something you'd wish to know, great barrister-at-law.
Why on earth not? Because I didn't want us to win the case by rubbishing poor Tim Cogger.
I want to keep my partnership, you see.
I want to get along well with all the chaps in the surgery, Dr Tim included, so I thought the best way out was to persuade Miss Liptrott to tell the truth, which is that nothing happened.
But it seemed to me too simple a way to win, and far too unsubtle for a brilliant barrister like yourself.
And at least, sir, you will agree that I managed humbly to make an omelette without breaking a single egg.
Oh, charming.
My dear old quack, what if you spread the infection? What if all my clients arranged their own acquittal? I'd be out of work, a disaster! Clients settling their cases is not right.
I'm sorry, Mr Rumpole, I truly am very, very sorry.
What did you offer the lady to persuade her to tell the truth? I offered her, sir, as you might put it, all my worldly goods.
Don't babble.
What are you talking about? No, honestly, Mr Rumpole, I do not babble.
Miss Marietta Liptrott is as charming and honest as she is beautiful.
And she has done me the honour of agreeing to be my wife.
The ceremony will be at the mosque in Regents Park to be followed by a reception at the Memories Of India in Gloucester Rd.
You and your good lady are cordially invited, as indeed are you, Mr Pinhorn.
- But not Dr Cogger? - Oh, yes, Dr Cogger.
Because all the surgery will be there, and I'm hoping Tim Cogger will propose a toast to the happy couple.
I'll certainly ask him.
(CIock strikes six) Nobody came, except Claude's pupil, Mrs Wiggins, whatever her name is.
Mrs Whittaker, very nice lady.
So the trap didn't work.
She was wearing a white carnation.
Perhaps she'd been to a wedding, or something.
Portia, you are a brilliant advocate, your courtroom manner is irresistible, but you simply cannot skate over the evidence.
Here, have another look at that.
Read it aloud, if you please.
- "Barrister.
" - Stop.
Barrister.
Isn't there another letter after "barrister", small letter? Oh, yes, it looks like an F.
It is an F.
F for female.
You were so sure that you had Claude in the frame, you didn't even notice it.
A lady barrister, looking for adventure, sharing Claude's room.
That's why you found the magazine there.
I'm afraid you've disappointed Mrs Whittaker dreadfully.
- Mrs Whittaker? - The evidence seems conclusive.
Poor old Mr Whittaker, eh? Obviously of the humdrum persuasion.
We ought to take out a subscription to this magazine.
We've learnt a lot, haven't we, out of only just one issue? Well, perhaps you can, Rumpole.
I really must go and find Claude.
You know, he did seem pleased to see me.
Of course he did.
You owe him a lunch at the Savoy.
Hello.
Oh, God! Yes, Mrs Etheridge.
I'm listening.
You mean you ran into something again.
What? The Cenotaph? I see.
Ah! Ballard.
- I've got good news for you at last.
- What's that? I've got a client for you, a lady, a motoring offence.
Oh, it's rather serious, I'm afraid.
I told her she'd better brief a reliable QC.
Yes, yes, of course.
What's her name? - It's a Mrs Etheridge.
- Etheridge.
I told her that you were a rather cuddly kind of barrister.
Oh, and do call her Bambi.
Everybody does.
(Phone rings)