All language subtitles for Rumpole s01e04 Lady.eng

Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org

"To my so-called wife, I have removed

"what you left of the tea biscuits
to the office for safekeeping.

"Are you determined to eat me into
bankruptcy? Your so-called husband."

(Pop music)

(Music stops)

"My so-called husband,
if you want your shirts washed,

"take them down to the office
and let her do them.

"She does everything else for you,
doesn't she?

"Your so-called wife."

Eat up now.

I may have a little surprise for you when
you come home from school today.

Nine across.

"Shelley's happy tipple."

- Two words, six six.
- Aren't you ever going to work?

"Blythe Spirit"! I've got this crossword
fellow over a barrel.

- Or are you going to sit around all day?
- Our business is not what it was.

Oh, come on!
I've got to get this kitchen shipshape.

Shipshape! Aye-aye, Captain.
Stir your stumps, you landlubbers.

- I haven't finished.
- Get to Chambers.

Nothing is happening in Chambers.
Business is terrible.

There's an unexpected outbreak
of lawfulness.

Somebody ought to write
to "The Times" about it.

What have I had the last month?

One small break-and-enter,
two careless drivers.

Daddy always got to Chambers
dead on nine every day of his life.

Daddy, old C H Wystan, always got to
Chambers dead on nine

and spent the whole morning
on the "Times" crossword puzzle.

I do it at home. That's the difference
between us. You ought to be grateful.

- Grateful?
- For the companionship.

I want you out of the house, Rumpole,
don't you understand, so I can clear up?

"Woman, in our hours of ease,
uncertain, coy, and hard to please."

Just a little peace, so that I can be alone
to get on with things.

Oh, yes, when I'm late of an evening
having popped into Pommeroys

to strengthen myself to face the inner
circle, you never seem grateful

to have been left alone
to get on with things.

You have been wasting time.
That's what I resent.

"I wasted time
and now doth time waste me."

Chattering away
to that idiot Frobisher.

"What time hath made me now..."

- I don't suppose he's got any work.
- Who?

Oh, George? No, he's feeling a draught.

All the decent villains are on holiday
in the Costa Brava.

They've no consideration
for the legal profession.

You can't even take crime seriously.

Sometimes I wonder
what I'm doing here!

Doing? Well, presumably you're getting
the coffee cups all shipshape

to be piped on deck as teacups at 4:00.

What's the point? With Nick gone,
it all seems quite unnecessary.

- Nick?
- Your son has gone back to America.

I suppose you've noticed.

Well...

Why do we bother to keep all this place
going? That's what I ask myself.

All this? Ha!

It's only a flat in the Gloucester Road,
Hilda. It's hardly Chatsworth, is it?

You know what I mean.
We used to be a family.

We had to try, at least for Nick's sake.

- Aw...
- Oh, why don't you go to work?

- Nick will be back.
- Do you believe that?

When he's got married, when he's got
his job at the university in Baltimore,

why should he come back?

To see us, hear the news,
know what I'm doing in court.

What you're doing in court? You haven't
been doing anything in court apparently!

(Telephone rings)

Oh! Course he'll be back.

- Hello?
- 'Mr Rumpole? '

- It's Mrs Rumpole speaking.
- 'Clerk Henry. Could I have a word? '

I'll see if I can catch him. He's just
dashing out of the door to work.

It's your clerk, Henry.

Oh, Henry!

- I thought he'd forgotten all about me.
- Rumpole, you haven't shaved!

Oh, Hilda!

- Hello, Henry?
- 'I've got a conference for you, sir.'

Did you say a con? Is crime looking up?

'No, Family Division.'

Daddy would never speak to his clerk
before he'd even shaved!

'Named Perfect. 11:00 if that's all right.'

- 11:00. Right, Henry.
- 'Thank you very much.'

- What is it?
- Er... It's a divorce.

(Rumpole) 'Divorce.

'Ah, got to take what you can nowadays.

'I suppose divorce
is in a fairly healthy state.

'Figures are rising.

'What's harder to understand is the
enormous popularity of marriage.

'Take that little scene
at breakfast this morning.

'I begin to wonder how it ever became
so popular. I mean! Is that home life?

'The Froxbury Mansions
with She Who Must Be Obeyed.

'That's work.
That's hard, back-breaking toil.

'Ah! It's a relief to get down
to the Temple for relaxation.

'Ah! Chambers.

'That's home.

'Peace and quiet.'

- Good God!
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.

Henry! Henry, there is a woman
seated in my chair.

Miss Phyllida Trant, sir.

Been with us a few months. Ex-pupil of
Mr Erskine-Brown. Have you met her?

I've met the occasional whiff
of French perfume in the hall.

- Anxious to widen her experience.
- She will if she wears that.

She wants to sit in on your divorce
case. I've got the brief.

- Thripp v Thripp. You're the wife.
- Am I? Jolly good.

�150! These are the sort of Thripps
to breed from, Henry.

I don't know if you've noticed. There is
a boy loitering with an aeroplane.

- He's here for the conference.
- Does he want a divorce too?

He's the child of the family, Mr Rumpole,
in Thripp v Thripp.

And, I rather gather,
the chief bone of contention.

So long now. Sorry to have interrupted
your day at home.

You can interrupt my day at home
any day you like for a fee of �150!

- Phyllida what? Rhymed with ant.
- Trant, sir.

- You don't mind her sitting in, do you?
- Henry, couldn't you put her off?

- Tell her a divorce is sacrosanct.
- Excuse me.

It's like a priest having a lady friend
in for a confessional.

I told her you have no objections.
She's keen to practise.

- Why can't she practise at home?
- Few chambers are without a woman.

It's not good for our image.

Albert never wanted a woman
in Chambers.

Can we change it to 4:30
if that's agreeable?

He said there was no lavatory!

As soon as you came into the room,
I felt safe somehow, Mr Rumpole.

I knew Norman and I
would be safe with you.

- Norman?
- The child of the family.

Yes, thank you, Miss Trant...

The young aviator outside. Well, now,
Mrs Thripp, if I am to help you,

you must do your best to help me.

Anything. What is it exactly you want?

Well, a couple of black eyes
would come in extremely handy.

Mr Rumpole means, has your husband
ever used physical violence?

Well, no, not actual violence.

Pity. Mr Thripp doesn't show
a very helpful attitude.

- You see, if we are to prove cruelty...
- We don't have to, do we?

It's intolerable conduct
since the Divorce Law Reform Act 1969.

(Rumpole) 'It's not the frivolity
that makes women intolerable.

'It's the ghastly enthusiasm,

'that mustered keenness
to get into the lacrosse team,

'that relentless drive to learn
the Divorce Law Reform Act by heart.

'That, and the French perfume! '

Divorce Law Reform Act. What year?

1969.

You know how it is. You pop
to the Bailey for five minutes,

they pass
another Divorce Law Reform Act!

Thank you for your assistance.

Now then, what is this intolerable
conduct exactly?

He doesn't speak.

He doesn't speak.

A little silence can come as a relief
in the wear and tear of married life.

I don't think you quite understand.
He hasn't spoken to me for three years.

Three years?

Good God.
Well, how does he communicate?

By means of notes.

Notes?

- "If you and your so-called son..."
- That's how he writes about Norman.

"If you and your so-called son
want to swim in hot water,

"you can go to the public baths.
Your so-called husband."

- He put a padlock on the geyser.
- Really?

- What profession is this Scrooge?
- Chartered accountant.

Oh, that doesn't surprise me in the least!

Yes, typed on an Italian portable, I'd say.
About ten years old.

My husband's got an old Olivetti.

- He can't really type.
- Yes...

- Mrs Thripp.
- Mr Rumpole.

Now, let me understand.
Is there perhaps someone else?

Someone else.

You are obviously an attractive -
an extremely attractive - woman.

Thank you, Mr Rumpole.

- No other fish in your particular sea?
- One man is quite enough for me.

Really? I take it
you are still living with your husband.

Living with him? Of course I'm living
with him. The flat's in joint names.

Wouldn't you be better off somewhere
else? I mean, anywhere else?

- Mrs Thripp has a mother in Ruislip.
- Thank you.

As your solicitor points out, anybody's
mother in Ruislip would be preferable

to living with an accountant
who padlocks your geyser!

- Move out?
- Unless you're a glutton for...

- Let him get away with it?
- Mrs Thripp, your flat in Muswell Hill,

scene of historic events though it may
well be, is not the field at Waterloo.

If you withdrew to pleasanter pastures,
there would be no defeat.

- No national disaster.
- She is anxious about the furniture.

Furniture?

Her husband might dispose
of the lounge suite.

He's always hated it
and it was a present from my mother.

How much human suffering can be
extracted from a lounge suite?

I don't believe it's the furniture.

Won't you take me on, Mr Rumpole?

My dear lady, of course I'll take you on.
That's what I'm here for.

An old taxi waiting in the rank. Snap
your fingers, I'll run you anywhere.

But it would be of some assistance if we
knew what destination you had in mind.

- I told Mr Perfect what I want.
- Mrs Thripp wants a divorce.

I want my husband taken to court.
Those are my instructions, Mr Rumpole.

"To my so-called wife, I am going out
to my Masonic ladies night tomorrow.

"Wednesday.

"It's a pity I haven't got
a lady to take with me.

"Don't bother to wait up for me.

"Your so-called husband."

Things are looking up, George.

There's light at the end of the tunnel.
I got a brief today for 150 quid. Divorce.

That's funny, so did I.

Sure to last at least six days.

That's six refreshers at �50 a day.
Think of that, George.

At least that much can be said
for the institution of marriage.

(Laughter)

- You never married.
- Never felt the need of it.

"With one chained friend,
perhaps a jealous foe,

"the dreariest and longest journey go."

Maggie, another couple
of large clarets, please.

I've had an insight into marriage
since reading that divorce brief...

If we were married, we couldn't sit like
this. You'd worry what time I got home.

Then you wouldn't be pleased
to see me.

I really don't know why a person
puts up with marriage.

When a woman starts conversing with
her husband by means of little notes!

Good Lord, got one of those? Thanks,
love. I'll settle with you in a minute.

And she cut the ends off his trousers.

Sounds a sordid sort of case. Cheers.

He was going out for the evening to
his lodge. Know what this Jezebel did?

Only snips the ends
off his evening trousers.

With her nail scissors.

That's intolerable conduct, that is,
under the 1969 act.

Hope you keep up
with divorce-law reform.

Moss Bros was closed and the wretched
fellow had to turn up at the Caf� Royal

with bags that looked
as if they had been gnawed by rats.

Rumpole, that is marriage for you.

- Do you live alone now, George?
- At the Royal Borough Hotel.

- Since my poor sister died.
- Snug as a bug there, are you?

Television in the residents' lounge.

- Coloured television.
- Oh!

- Rumpole, you must dine with me there.
- Love to.

Bring Hilda if you'd care to.

She'd liked that.
Coloured television, that'd be a treat.

Quiet, of course, but the point is,

a man can keep his trousers
more or less safe from destruction.

Royal Borough Hotel.

Hilda!

(Belches)

All quiet on the Western Front.

"If you condescend to come home,
your dinner in oven."

Oven?

Ow!
(Telephone rings)

Yuk!

- Hello?
- 'I just happened to ring you.

'I feel so alone in the world,
so terribly Ionely.'

Look, it's not terribly convenient now.

'Don't say that. It's my life.
How can you say that? '

All right, then, a quick word.

'He's going to say
the most terrible things about me.

- 'I've got to see you.'
- Oh...

Shall we say 4:00 tomorrow afternoon?

But not here.

- 'I don't know how I can wait.'
- My dear, we've waited for three years!

Now, I look forward to seeing you then.
Good night, beloved lady.

(Hangs up)

Oh, Hilda!

- Good morning, all.
- Your divorce is waiting in your room.

- Yes, right, Henry.
- Divorcing now, Rumpole?

Yes, Erskine-Brown.
Still foreclosing on mort-gauges?

That sort of thing. I hear you've got my
ex-pupil helping you out in your divorce.

That'll be good, Phyllida. You'll see a bit
of the seamy side with Rumpole.

Not a bad idea
to enlarge your repertoire.

Getting bogged down with all that crime.

Crime, yes. Seems a better, cleaner
place down the Old Bailey these days.

- We got anyone to send to Deptford?
- Don't you find criminals depressing?

Depressing? Not a bit of it!
They're usually so well behaved.

- Really?
- They knock somebody on the head.

Rob a few banks. Causes at most
a temporary inconvenience.

They don't write to each other nasty little
notes. They don't lock up the geyser.

They don't indulge in three years of
silence to celebrate the passage of love.

Love? You're an expert on that now?

"Rumpole On Love" should sell a bomb
at the Solicitors' Law Stationers.

...said for criminal customers...
- No sugar, Diane, thank you.

...usually, they're locked up on bail
pending trial.

- Did you say 2:30, Henry?
- No, 2:00.

Can't ring you up all hours.

Get involved in a divorce case,
your life's not your own.

Used to have all the facts of divorce
cases printed in detail in "The Times".

- Hello, Uncle Tom.
- Made amusing reading.

Now, all this rubbish they print now
about the Common Market,

much more amusing. No one for me?

- Nothing at the moment.
- You don't want to work, Uncle Tom.

There was a time
when I had far more briefs

than you seem to pick up,
Erskine-Brown.

Now all I get are invitations to ensure
my life. A bit late for that now.

Mrs Thripp, sir.
She has been waiting 20 minutes.

I'm going! Oh, sorry.

There is... There is something
at least to be said for divorce.

Really? Do tell us.
Speaking as an expert.

It's not nearly as squalid
as foreclosing on mortgages.

Rumpole of the boudoir.

Ha ha, very funny, Erskine-Brown.

I do wish you hadn't done this,
Mrs Thripp.

"My so-called husband,
if you want your shirts washed,

"take them to the office. Let her do them.

"She does everything else for you,
doesn't she?"

- Why did you type this?
- I was provoked.

The other side supplied
photostats of the documents.

Yes, of course! I see you and your
husband both use the same typewriter

Yes, of course! I see you and your
husband both use the same typewriter

for your mutual correspondence.

- Whom did you suspect?
- Whom?

- Of doing his washing for him.
- I thought...

We had him watched, Mr Rumpole.
He has an elderly secretary.

Apparently, she's a grandmother. There
doesn't seem to be anyone else.

There doesn't seem to be anyone else
for either of you.

Three years for that. Put it away.

Norman.

They... Excuse me.

They allege that you assaulted
his trousers.

No, I didn't do that, Mr Rumpole.

- His trousers were damaged.
- The cleaners.

- Who sent them to the cleaners?
- He must have.

I don't know.

You said you were provoked into this.
What provoked you?

- That note he wrote me.
- Well, which one?

- Ah, this one?
- Yes.

I'm going out to my Masonic ladies night.
It's a pity I have no lady to take with me.

- The notes are undated.
- I can see that, Miss Trant.

- Tell me, did he go to this night?
- Yes. The trousers weren't that bad!

And you minded him going?

- Of course I minded.
- Why?

- I wanted to go with him, of course.
- You what?

Go with a man who hasn't
spoken to you in three years,

writes notes, padlocks your geyser?

I don't know.

I don't know why I wanted
to go with him.

All right, Mrs Thripp. I'm only asking the
questions your husband's barrister will.

- You think it's hopeless?
- You may not make a good witness.

I do not think that she may not
make a good witness.

You may know all about
divorce-law reform, Miss Trant.

I know all about witnesses. Mrs Thripp
will make an excellent witness.

Well done, Mrs Thripp.

You broke down at the right moment
of cross-examination.

Ah! "It's a pity I haven't got
a lady to take with me."

There is not a man sitting as a judge
in the Family Division

who will not find this note
absolutely intolerable!

Sorry, Miss Trant.

Another brief? For me?

There you are, sir.
Oh, you shouldn't have!

It never rains but it pours.

I got you �25 this time,
before the Dock Street magistrates.

- Archie McFee.
- An old girl, Mrs Wainscot, sir.

Charged with keeping
a disorderly house.

What, Henry, an old pro?

Has it come to this?

Plodding the pavements, flogging my
aged charms around Dock Street?

Ah, 25 quid. That's not bad
for a short time in Dock Street.

Yes...

It makes you wonder
what I could earn up the West End.

(Clears throat)

- I wanted to ask your advice.
- Really, Miss Trant?

You mean you don't know it all?

I'm prosecuting. Henry got me the brief.
The Dock Street stipe.

- Oh, really!
- Archibald McFee.

- Yes, old Archie.
- A disorderly house.

An open-and-shut case. The police
observations are perfectly clear.

Why is Mrs Wainscot defending?

The old trout has a taste
for keeping out of Holloway.

- Most unreasonable.
- What I wanted to ask you was...

Yes?

How much law should I take? How many
books will this magistrate want

on the prosecution case?

Hmm.

My dear Miss Trant, old Archie McFee
is a legal beaver.

Double First in Jurisprudence.

Reads "Russell On Crime" in bed.

Takes the appeal cases
on holiday with him.

You want to pot
the old bawdy-house keeper, eh?

Well, if you take my advice, you will
quote every case you can think of.

Old Archie will love it. How many books
do you need? Fill the taxi with them!

Section eight of the 1761 statute, sir.

"Any person who acts or behaves,
him or herself, as master or mistress

"or as the person having the care,
government or management

"of any bawdy house
or disorderly house

"shall be deemed
to be the keeper thereof."

Now, if I might refer you to Singleton
and Ellison 18951 QB, page 607...

Do you have to refer me to it,
Miss Trant?

Oh, yes, sir. I'm sure
you'll find it most helpful.

(Rumpole) 'Miss Trant looked shocked
when she discovered I was defending.

'Now she'll discover
I have deceived her.

'Archie McFee can't stand law,

'his sole interests being rose-growing
and catching the 3:45 back to Esher.

'Can't she see the fury
rising the level of his stiff collar

'as he glares at the clock
and longs for Waterloo Station? '

It is of great interest that under R V
Jones that all women under 21 years

are girls, although females
may be women at the age of 18.

- I suppose it interests you, Miss Trant!
- Oh, yes, indeed, sir.

Turning now, if you will, Sir,
to the Sexual Offences Act 1896...

(Rumpole) 'Rumpole,
you've done it again.

'The prosecution is sinking
under the dead weight of the law.'

Is that all from the prosecution,
Miss Trant?

Do you want to refer me to any books
on behalf of the defence, Mr Rumpole?

(Rumpole) 'Cheer up, you'll be off
to the station in three minutes.'

Sir, my learned friend has referred you
to many books. I remind you of only one,

a well-known book in which it is written,
"Thou shalt not bear false witness."

I would apply that to the observations
of the police officer in this case.

Yes, I'm not satisfied
this charge is made out.

Summons dismissed!

With costs, Miss Trant!

Yes, my dear, Mr Perfect has already
told me we've a hearing in two weeks.

So you see, there's no need
to ring me at home about it.

We all have our lives to lead.
Of a sort...

No, no, be reasonable.

In two short weeks, you'll be free.
Think of that, my dear!

And keep smiling. Bye-bye.

(Hangs up)

I'm having tea with Dodo tomorrow.

Dodo?

Dodo Perkins and I were tremendously
close at Wycombe Abbey.

That Dodo? The live one!

- Yes, of course.
- She's living in Hampshire nowadays.

She's running her own teashop.

Nice part of the country, Hants.
You won't have seen her for ages.

We correspond. I sent her a postcard -
"Let's meet when next you're up."

I want to ask her advice
about something.

Yes?

We may go shopping,
perhaps have tea at Harrods.

- Go easy on the chocolate gateau.
- What?

I'd hate to see the profits
from my disorderly house

vanishing down Dodo's little red lane.

Rumpole... Dodo never liked you.

Do you know that?

You...

Come, Miss Trant,
you mustn't despair.

After you've been so helpful.

- Don't mention it.
- I know I'll never make it.

I know the law.
I was top student in my year.

Ah, yes, but knowing the law has almost
nothing to do with being a lawyer.

An open-and-shut case. I had all
the police observations and I lost it.

That wasn't about the law. You didn't
know enough about Archie McFee.

- You just made rings around me.
- Never underestimate crafty Rumpole.

It seems ungrateful
after you've been so kind to me.

- I wish you wouldn't keep saying that.
- I have to give it up. I have to!

No, you can't. Once you're a lawyer,
you become addicted.

It's like smoking
or any other habit-forming drug.

You become hooked
on cross-examination.

You get a taste for great gulps of air
from the cells.

- You'll find out.
- No, I won't, ever.

We all have our disappointments,
you know. I certainly do.

Did you know I did
the Penge bungalow murders?

Without a leader. And the great
Brighton Benefit Club forgery case.

Which is where I got
my vast knowledge of typewriters.

What am I doing now? Mucking about
with disorderly houses. Even a divorce!

So there you are. Look,
do you mind if I give you a bit of advice?

Do you knew what your mistake is
in court?

I would suggest a little more
of the feminine qualities.

Ask anyone in the Temple,
how does Rumpole behave in court?

Answer?
Rumpole woos. Rumpole insinuates.

Rumpole wraps his fingers lovingly
around the jury box

or lies on his back purring,
"If Your Lordship pleases..."

like old Mrs Wainscot of Dock Street.

- That's ridiculous.
- Lawyers and tarts, Miss Trant.

The two oldest professions in the world.

And we always aim to please.

And we always aim to please.

Hilda!

(Whistles tune)

Ah, there we are!

- Is that your suitcase?
- You can stay out as late as you like!

You can spend all the time that you like
with her.

- With her? Who?
- I've heard her on the telephone!

Hilda, that is a client.
Don't be ridiculous.

- I have lived with you for 28 years.
- Man and boy!

I have never known you to be
telephoned by a client at home.

Hilda, I usually have
quiet, undemanding clients.

Murderers don't fuss. Robbers guess
the outcome and are calm and resigned.

Divorcing ladies are different. They are
inclined to ring up constantly.

- So I have noticed.
- They are always out on bail.

They are not locked up in Brixton
pending the hearing.

More's the pity.
I'm going to stay with Dodo, Rumpole.

I'm going to stay with Dodo
and help her out.

- At the teashop?
- It's far better that I should leave you

to get on with your harem.

Hilda, my client
has an unhappy marriage

which may well provide you and Dodo
with another tea at Harrods.

- That can't be why you're leaving.
- No, no, it isn't.

Then why?

- You've changed, Rumpole.
- Hilda...

You don't go to work in the mornings.
And as for a gin bottle!

- You marked that. Unforgivable.
- Then don't forgive me.

An Englishman's gin bottle
is his castle!

(Telephone rings)

- Taxi, yes, I'm just coming.
- 'Could I speak to Mr Rumpole? '

Yes... He's here.

It's for you.

It's her.

Did you enjoy your pommes de terre
� I'anglaise, Rumpole?

Boiled spuds, excellent!

- Hilda will be sorry to have missed this.
- Where is Hilda exactly?

Down in Hampshire in the country,
helping an old friend with her teashoppy.

Well, now Nick's in America,
not much for her to do at home.

- Hilda cares for veal, does she?
- Rather, yes. She'll be disappointed.

We always have veal on the Monday,
so we know where we are. Good Lord!

I've got this wretched divorce case
tomorrow.

The other side have stolen a march
on us. They've expedited the hearing.

Really?

- George...
- Rumpole?

- What's your divorce case about?
- I told you, I'm the husband.

- Just I've got one too. I'm a wife.
- Horrible case. Sure I told you.

"We allege this monstrous female
savaged me trousers."

- What else?
- What else? Isn't that enough?

- No, what else?
- Hasn't spoken to me for three years.

She won't speak to you?

You mean you haven't spoken to her!

Well, she started it, and the bath water.

- What about the bath water?
- 14 baths a week. The cost!

I haven't had a bath there
in over a month.

I have to go all the way
to Mother's in Ruislip!

- You put a padlock on the geyser!
- Rumpole!

- You're against me!
- Of course I am. I'm the wife.

You are trying to put me out
of the house, George, and my child!

Your child?
You have alienated Norman's affections!

- What?
- You turned him against me!

- Rubbish!
- Go away! What do you mean?

I never heard such unmitigated
nonsense in all my life.

Bring that up in court, I shall cut you
into pieces and give you to the usher.

- I have behaved like a saint.
- Yes, you! Joan of Arc!

- You're Job himself, I suppose?
- Had to be to put up with you!

You are nothing but a great big bully!

You're all fine and brave when dealing
with someone weaker than you.

- Oh, yes, you! You weaker than me!
- See how you stand up in court.

Let's see you in cross-examination.

I wouldn't rely too much on cross-
examination. What about the evidence?

I intend producing my evening trousers
as an exhibit!

- Your trousers will prove nothing!
- Really, won't they?

Anyone can lacerate his own trousers
with a pair of nail scissors.

- Has been done before!
- Lies.

- Thank you for the dinner.
- Lies, lies!

George, in the still of the night,

it may occur to you to do the decent
thing and let this case go undefended.

(Rumpole) 'Oh, dear,
what did I tell Mrs Thripp?

"'No man sitting as a judge
in the Family Division could bear

'to see a woman treated in this way."

'Course I didn't know
who we'd get then, did I?

'I'm given to believe
that Mrs Justice Apelby

'is the only genuine male
chauvinist pig in the building.

'They tell me when she goes
on circuit and tries murders,

'she puts on a thin line of lipstick
before summing up to the jury.

'It's the nearest Her Ladyship ever gets
to the art of seduction.

- 'Oh, a frosty look at us! '
- Thripp versus Thripp.

(Rumpole) 'And a frosty look at George.

'The score is love-all.

'That must be Thripp.

'I must say, we could have hoped
for something about twice the size.

'He's hardly perfect casting
for the part of Bluebeard.'

- Yes, Mr Rumpole.
- (Rumpole) 'Ready for the off.'

- If Your Ladyship pleases...
- Mr Rumpole! I don't please.

These lists of grievances and
complaints don't please me in the least.

Is there no chance of the parties seeing
sense and coming to a compromise?

No chance whatever.
This is a fight to the end, M'Lady,

as my learned friend will assure you...
(Whispers) Tell her, George.

Yes, it is indeed a fight, M'Lady,
due to last at least six days.

Very well.
Tell me about it, Mr Rumpole.

This is probably one of the strangest
cases this court may ever have heard.

The story of a Bluebeard
who kept his wife

a virtual prisoner
in their flat in Muswell Hill,

denied her the simple comforts
of biscuit and bath water,

denied her the comforts
of his conversation

but communicated with her
only by means of...

brusque, bitter and insulting little notes!

- Mr Rumpole.
- Yes, M'Lady?

- May I remind you of something?
- Certainly, M'Lady.

The jury box is empty.
This is a trial by judge alone.

I don't require to be swayed
by your oratory,

which is no doubt effective
in criminal cases.

- Just give me the relevant dates.
- Yes... My Lady...

"You and your so-called son can be off
to your mother's in Ruislip!

"Let her pay for the light
you leave blazing in the toilet."

- Pinned up on my kitchen cupboard.
- Your kitchen...

Just a moment, Mr Rumpole!

Very well.

Now, then, Mrs Thripp.

What was the effect upon you
of this heartbreaking notice to quit?

- She stayed for more, apparently!
- If Your Ladyship pleases...

- You didn't go, did you?
- Perhaps she was afraid to, My Lady.

Really, M'Lady,
my learned friend mustn't lead.

(Rumpole) 'Relax, George. Stop going
up and down like a yoyo! '

- It's true, I just didn't know...
- More slowly, please!

More slowly, please...
Mrs Thripp.

I just didn't know what my husband
would do if I left him.

But what sort of thing did you fear
he might do?

- I just didn't know.
- Mrs Thripp,

you put up with this conduct from
your husband for three years. Why?

- I suppose I was sorry for him.
- Sorry for him, why?

- He'd never manage on his own.
- Mr Thripp!

Is there anything
in your conduct to your wife

of which you are thoroughly ashamed?

(Rumpole) 'A good question, that.

'Lf he says yes,
he's made a damaging admission.

'Lf he says no,
he's a self-satisfied idiot.'

- No.
- (Rumpole) 'Self-satisfied idiot.'

Really, Mr Thripp?
You have behaved absolutely perfectly?

(Rumpole) 'Exactly my point, I think.
15-Iove, first game, second set.'

"I am going out
to my Masonic ladies night.

"It's a pity I haven't got
a lady to take with me."

- That how a perfect husband behaves?
- Perhaps not.

- Or was that the cruellest cut of all?
- I was annoyed with her.

Annoyed? You wrote these bitter words
out of mere annoyance?

- I had asked her to the ladies night.
- Asked her?

- I left a note for her, naturally.
- Naturally!

Mr Rumpole,
will you ask the witness to speak up?

- Would you speak up, Mr Thripp?
- I left a note for her, naturally.

Naturally, yes. You couldn't do anything
so human as to speak with her?

- She didn't reply.
- I'm not surprised getting this!

Mr Thripp, did you actually want
your wife to accompany you?

Oh, yes, indeed.

What? This termagant
who overfills your baths,

refuses to wash shirts, you were looking
forward to a pleasant evening with her?

- Well, I had no one else to go with.
- And would rather her than no one.

Of course I would!
She's my wife, isn't she?

I suggest all these charges
against your wife are untrue.

- They are not untrue.
- But you wanted her to go with you.

You wanted to flaunt her on your arm
at the Caf� Royal. Why?

Well, come, Mr Thripp,
answer the question.

It can't possibly be
because you love her?

Yes.

- I do.
- Do what, Mr Thripp?

Do...

...Iove her...

(Rumpole) 'Oh, Rumpole... '
(Judge) Mr Rumpole.

'... have you asked one question
too many? '

- Yes, Your Ladyship?
- It is really too late for common sense?

- Common sense, My Lady.
- A final attempt at a reconciliation.

George, I feel our precious divorce
slipping away from us.

I have no power to order this, of course,

but it does seem to me Mr and Mrs
Thripp might meet in chambers

to explore the possibilities
of a reconciliation.

There is one important consideration.
I refer to young Norman Thripp,

the child of the family. I shall adjourn
now until tomorrow morning.

(Clerk) Be upstanding!

- Been in there a long time, Horace.
- Doesn't look too promising, George.

They shouldn't
allow women on the bench.

Apelby!
Don't know what she thinks she's doing,

depriving us of our refreshers.

Well, gentlemen, I think we shall
be withdrawing the case tomorrow.

We still have one or two things
to talk over.

Talk over? Well, we'll have
to see about that. Excuse me.

- Come along, Norman.
- He's been so good.

Norman!

(Mimics engine)

He's been playing at being a secretary.

(Mrs Thripp) Norman!

- Ah, good morning.
- Good morning.

Well, Mrs Thripp, I suppose we come
to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

- What do you mean?
- You're dropping the case.

I'm going on with the case. Last night,
butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

I got this this morning, leaning against
the cornflakes packet at breakfast.

"The old barrister you dug up
is going to lose this case."

Oh, really? "I'll have you and your
so-called son out of here in a week."

Good morning, Mr Thripp. Come along.

He's mad.
I can't live with a maniac, Mr Rumpole.

This is typed on a standard Imperial.

We've got to beat him. I've got to think
of Norman caged up with a man like that!

Norman, of course!

As the judge said, we've got to think
of the child of the family.

Look, we've got half an hour.

Yes, do you think Norman
would appreciate a little stroll?

- I'm sure we'd be glad to.
- No, not we, Mrs Thripp.

In this instance,
I'd like to speak to Norman alone.

Norman, do you like doughnuts?

It's a rum business, marriage.

- Have you ever been married, Norman?
- Course not!

Married people have odd ways of
showing their love and devotion.

- Have they?
- Yes.

Some whisper endearments. Some send
each other abusive little notes.

Some even have to get
as far as the divorce court

to prove they can't do
without each other.

- Want another doughnut?
- I'm all right.

All right? Yes, you were all right
when they really looked like separating.

- I don't know what you mean.
- Really?

When they were each trying
to win you over to their side...

Hmm.

When you got a new present every
week from Mum and a rival from Dad -

tanks, planes, guns -

developed into a sort of arms race
between them.

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Their mad impulse to kiss and make up

must threaten your source of supply.

- Mine too, come to that.
- I don't mind if they get together.

- It's their business, isn't it?
- Their business.

- I'm not stopping them.
- Oh, really?

Of course I'm not!

I don't do much divorce, you know.

Now I'm just beginning to realise why.
It's crime, mainly.

I was in
the great Brighton Benefit Club forgery.

What's forgery?

Oh, you are good!

Oh, you'll come out wonderfully

in your interview with the police!

The genuine voice of innocence.
"What's forgery?"

That is forgery, Norman.

Examine it closely.

- All the other notes were typewritten.
- So's this.

Typewritten on the old Olivetti
that your parents keep in Muswell Hill.

That is typed on a standard Imperial
with a small gap in the capital S.

Here, borrow my glass.

Well, what about it?

That note was typewritten on the
standard Imperial in my Chambers,

that Diane hammers out
my learned opinions upon.

The standard Imperial you were playing
with so innocently last night.

I put it to you, Norman,
you typed that last note

in a desperate attempt to keep this
highly profitable divorce case going.

(Sighs)
I didn't see any gap in the capital S.

Ha! Didn't you?

- The judge will.
- What judge?

The judge who tries you for forgery,

a word you understand perfectly!

I'll take the evidence.

Ah! I will take the evidence, please!

Thank you.

You know what they gave the chief
villain in the Brighton case?

Four years.

Four long years.

Have another doughnut.

As your lawyer,
I can only see one way out for you -

a full confession to your mum and dad,
soon as you finish your doughnut.

Let me give you another word of advice.

Settle for being a chartered accountant
like your dad.

You have absolutely no talent for crime.

I am delighted to inform you the parties
have now achieved a reconciliation.

You will not be troubled with this case.

- Then the petition will be dismissed.
- It's your fault, Rumpole.

- As Your Ladyship pleases.
- You amateur detective!

- Hardly amateur, George.
- And the cross charges in the answer.

As Your Ladyship pleases. We might
be sitting here with our refreshers.

It was the irresistible challenge
of the typewritten evidence.

- I think you should stick to crime.
- Yes, I will in the future.

- The husband will pay the costs.
- Be upstanding.

You absolutely bugger up the work
in the Family Division.

Really?

Hilda!

Oh, what am I saying?

No answer, came the stern reply.

Rumpole?

Hilda?

Hilda?

Well, what's the matter?
Fall out with Dodo?

- Have a scene over a drop scone?
- You're back early.

Daddy was never back home
at 3:00 in the afternoon!

- No.
- Daddy stayed in Chambers till 6:00.

Regular as clockwork every day
of his life. What about your divorce?

- I solved it.
- The six refreshers?

Gone with the wind, I fear.

Yes, old George
was terribly disappointed.

He's got to support a small hotel
in Kensington, you know.

You've got no responsibilities,
of course!

I don't suppose
you've even had any tea.

I had to pit my wits, Hilda,
against a very formidable opponent.

- What, George Frobisher?
- Dear, no, not old George.

- An 11 -year-old child.
- You're going to seed, Rumpole.

Can't even keep a divorce case going.

Do you know why my divorce case
collapsed under me?

The clients were reconciled.

(Rumpole) 'Because however awful it is,
however silent and unendurable it is,

'however much they hate each other's
guts over the three-piece lounge suite,

'they can't stand to be alone.'

Isn't that strange, Hilda? They'd rather
have war together than a Ionely peace.

If I'd stayed any longer,
you'd have gone to seed completely.

"Woman, in our hours of ease,
uncertain, coy, and hard to please."

You'd have stayed home all day
doing the crossword,

delving into the gin bottle.

"And variable as the shade
by the light quivering aspen made..."

If you're going to the loo, Rumpole,
remember to switch off the light!

"When pain and anguish ring the brow,
a ministering angel, thou."

It's for your own good, Rumpole.

I'm telling you for your own good.

Downloaded From www.AllSubs.org

Repair and Synchronization by
Easy Subtitles Synchronizer 1.0.0.0