All language subtitles for Rumpole s01e06 Brigade.eng

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- (Man yells) Bye.
- Yeah, see you.

(Gasps and screams)

(Sobbing)

(Tyres screech)

(Tyres screech)

(Metal clangs and dog barks)

- (Gasps)
- What is it, Petey?

Had one of your bad turns,
have you, Pete?

Why don't you sit down, Peter?

You're all of a tremble.

Have you seen T-Tosh?

No, I haven't seen Tosher.
Have you, Basil?

- Not that I can recollect.
- (Stutters)

Here, what have you just done, Peter?

I just c-come...

Peter,
is that your banger parked out there?

It seems totally surrounded by Old Bill.

You know what you're gonna need,
little brother?

You're gonna need a good lawyer.

(Rumpole) "'No warmth,
no cheerfulness, no healthful ease

"'No comfortable feel in any member

"'No shade, no shine,
no butterflies, no bees

"'No fruit, no flowers,
no leaves, no birds

"'No-vember."

'November.'

'There might be some sort of trivial little
brief waiting for me in Chambers.

'In November an old man's fancy lightly
turns to thoughts of indecent assault.

'Bringing briefs at London Sessions
and before the Uxbridge Justices.

'Oh, God! Oh, Uxbridge Justices.

'Oh... I started forty years ago,

'defending a charge of unsolicited grope
on the Northern Line...

'... and that's what I'm back to now.

'In my end is my beginning.'

Mr Rumpole?

"Stern daughter of the Voice of God.
O, duty."

Well, Henry, my learned clerk,
what are my orders for today?

There's a con waiting for you, sir.

In a new matter from Maurice Nooks
and Parsley.

- New matter?
- Yeah, the Bermondsey stabbing.

Mr Nooks says you'll have read it
in the papers.

"My heart leaps up
when I behold a rainbow in the sky."

Or a murder in the offing.

Oh, doesn't it sound terrible,
but I've got to admit it, ha ha!

They're giving me a leader, in a murder.

- No, they haven't mentioned a leader.
- It'll be Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP.

Well, it'll get me back to the Bailey,
my proper stamping ground.

- Er, Mr Rumpole.
- Yes?

There's just one thing...

- Your hat, sir.
- My hat?

The other clerks was discussing
your hat, sir, over coffee.

They must be hard up for conversation
in the Kardomah.

They was passing the comment,

it's the subject of a good many jokes
in the Temple.

Really?

Well, this has done the state
some service and it shows it.

I can't send you down the Bailey, not
on a top class murder, in a hat like that.

You think the jury'll see at the titfer
and convict without leaving the box?

- Mr Featherstone wears a nice bowler.
- I'm not leading counsel, Henry.

I'm not the Conservative-Labour MP
for somewhere or other,

and as far as this hat is concerned,
it keeps the rain out, most of the time.

My old clerk, Albert,

put up with this hat for a good
many years without complaint.

There's been changes made
since Albert's time.

Indeed there has!

I got some decent briefs in Albert's time.

I got the Penge Bungalow Murders
and the Brighton forgery case.

I wasn't put out to grass
in the Uxbridge Magistrates Court.

- Oh? Good morning.
- Good morning, Mr Rumpole.

Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Nooks.

Mr Nooks.

And this is...
Miss Stebbings, my articled clerk.

This is Mr Leslie Delgado and Mr Basil
Delgado, our client's brothers.

How do you do?
Well, please sit down, sit down.

That is, of course,
if you can find somewhere.

Our, er... our client, of course,
is, er... not with us, hmm?

Hardly, Mr Rumpole.

Mr Peter Delgado
has been moved to the prison hospital.

- He's never been a well boy.
- Oh.

Our client's health has always been
an anxiety to his brothers.

Oh, really? Yes, I see.

Well, then... let's have a look, hmm.

Victim's name, Tosher MacBride.
Anything known about him?

- I believe he was a rent collector.
- Oh, that's a good start!

The jury will be dead against murder
but if somebody has to go

it might as well be a rent collector.

(AII laugh)

Bloodstains on your brother's sleeve.

I see. What's forensic say about that?

- Including Mr Tosher MacBride's?
- Well, yes.

And exhibit one, a sheath knife.

- Mr MacBride's blood on that?
- Yes. Er, of course...

The sheath knife found in you brother's
old Daimler beside the driving seat.

Bloodstains on your brother's sleeve.
Bloodstained knife found in his car.

It looks black for young Peter.

Yes, well, let's say it's evidence,
Mr Delgado,

on which the prosecution
may expect to get a conviction.

Unless the judge has joined the Fulham
Road Anarchists or the jury is drunk.

- You'll pull it off for Peter?
- Pull it off? Oh!

I shall merely sit behind
my learned leader.

You are going to Guthrie Featherstone,
QC MP, of these Chambers?

Well, actually, Mr Rumpole,
on this one, no.

No? But you are getting a leader,
aren't you, on a murder?

Well, actually, my brother and I have
heard of your wonderful reputation.

Oh! Oh, thank you.

Well, I did do the Penge Bungalow
Murders without a leader. Thank you.

But, of course, that was 30 years ago.
They let me loose on that.

We've heard golden opinions about you,
Mr Rumpole. Golden opinions.

Nobody mentioned the hat then?

Pardon?

Mr Delgado's brothers are perfectly
satisfied to leave this one to you.

Really?

Well! Now is the winter
of our discontent.

Made glorious summer
by a first class murder.

Oh, I'm sorry, gentleman,
that sounded callous.

All these months
in the Uxbridge Magistrates Court

have blunted my sensibilities.

It can hardly be such a sign of summer
for your brother.

(Basil) We're quite confident
that you can handle it.

Handle it? Of course I can handle it!
Please, please, sit down.

As I always say,

murder is nothing more
than common assault

with unfortunate consequences.

We'll arrange it for you
to see the doctor.

- I'm perfectly well, thank you.
- (Leslie) Dr Lewis Bleen.

(Nooks) The well-known psychiatrist.

On the subject
of Mr Peter Delgado's mental capacity.

Poor Peter. He's never been right.
We've always had to look after him.

You could call him Peter Pan.
The little boy who never grew up.

(Man) Remember me, do you?

- Doctor Bleen.
- Yes.

- Doctor Bleen.
- Yes.

Do you know the time, Petey?

No.

Disorientated as to time.

Might that be
because he's not wearing a watch?

- Where are you, Peter?
- In the n-n...

- Nick?
- Hospital wing.

- Orientated as to place.
- Possibly.

When we last met, Peter, you told me

you couldn't remember
how MacBride got stabbed.

N-no!

There appears to be a complete
blotting out of all the facts.

Mightn't it be worth asking if he was
there when Tosher got stabbed?

I'm afraid that given the advanced state
of amnesia here,

the answer might not be
in the least helpful. Now...

Well, helpful or not, shouldn't we hear it?

Mr Rumpole, as a solicitor of some
little experience, may I interject here?

- If you have to.
- Dr Bleen will correct me if I'm wrong.

But he's prepared to give evidence
that at the relevant moment...

Yes, well, so far I have no idea
as to when the relevant moment was.

Mr Delgado's mind was so affected
that he didn't know the nature of his act.

- Nor did he know it was wrong.
- I see.

You think he was giving Tosher a warm
welcome to the Rent Collector's Union?

It's not how I suggest we put it
to the judge.

How do you suggest
we tell it to the old sweetheart?

- Guilty but insane, Mr Rumpole.
- Oh...

We rather anticipated your advice
would be guilty but insane in law.

Have you anticipated
what the prosecution might say?

Peter's been examined
by Dr Stotter from the Home Office.

You won't find him unhelpful.
We play squash together.

We've had a word about this case.

What rum things you do talk about
on the squash court.

It always struck me
as a good game to avoid.

Well, Pete, you'll be wanting
to get back to your television.

Oh, just one question before you go -

did you stab Tosher MacBride?

I don't think the answer
will be at all reliable.

I dare say you may even think
the question unreliable, Doctor,

but I'm asking it just the same.

Because if you did,
we'll call the good shrink here

and Dr Stotter fresh from his squash
court, and they'll let you off lightly.

You'll go to Broadmoor,
at Her Majesty's pleasure.

No doubt, Her Majesty
will be thinking of you constantly.

You'll get a lot more telly,
you'll get some exciting basket weaving,

and a handful of pills every night
to keep you quiet.

If you're very good, they might
let you weed the doctors' garden

or play cricket
against the warders second eleven,

but I can't offer you these delights
until I know, did you stab Tosher?

- I think my patient's tired.
- He's not your patient. He's my client!

Dr Bleen has joined us
at great personal inconvenience.

Then I wouldn't dream of detaining him
a moment longer.

Good day, gentlemen.

(Door shuts)

- Did you do it, Petey?
- I c-c...

- Killed him?
- Couldn't of!

He was already c-cut,
when I see him.

You see I can't let you get sent
to hospital unless you did it,

but if you didn't,
we'll just have to fight the case.

(Yells) I want you to f-fight it!

- I'm not going in the nuthouse!
- All right.

It's all right.

Oh, it's all right.

If we do fight it, Petey, we may lose.
Do you understand that?

My b-brothers said

you're tip top l-lawyer.

- Mr Rumpole...
- Really?

Let's say I've picked up
a few tricks over the years.

Now then, hadn't you better tell me

exactly what happened
the night Tosher was stabbed?

- Rumpole.
- Hmm... Oh!

You're a late bird.

Yeah. Just trying to feather my nest
with a rather juicy little murder.

Maurice Nooks tells me
he's... not taking in a leader.

That's right.

Well, the last time I led you
wasn't a succ�s fou.

I'm rather a back seat driver,
I'm afraid.

Of course, you're an old hand at crime.

Good God, I thought you were going
to say old lag for a minute.

- It's a question of tactics in this case.
- Hmm.

Maurice said that if I appeared,

it might look
as if they'd overegged the pudding.

Whatever pudding
are you talking about?

Well, in silk,
an MP of a certain prominence,

might make it look as if this Peter
what's-his-name was in a bigger league,

if you know what I mean.

You think the jury would prefer
a bit of good plain cooking?

- You put things rather well sometimes.
- Thank you.

But if I can be of any help, unofficially.

I'll call on you if I can't remember
how to cross-examine.

I admit I lack the polish

that makes it sound
as polite as examination-in-chief.

That offer was made in all sincerity,
you know.

Then in all sincerity,
I can manage on my own.

Horace... er, look I'm rather anxious
to put to an end

any sort of rift between
the two senior men of Chambers.

It doesn't make for a happy ship.

- Aye-aye, sir!
- Yes, well, I'm glad you agree.

S�rieusement, Horace, we don't see
enough of each other socially.

Look, I've got a couple of tickets for
the Scales Of Justice Ball at the Savoy.

Why don't you join me and Marigold?

- Let's get this straight, Featherstone.
- Oh, Guthrie.

Let's get this straight, Guthrie.

Are you seriously asking me

to trip the light fantastic toe
with your wife?

- And you bring your good lady.
- My?

Your, er, missus.

Are you by any chance referring
to She Who Must Be Obeyed?

Are you considering
spending an evening out with She?

- It'll be great fun.
- Do you really think so?

Er, Horace...
this is rather embarrassing.

Er, your name cropped up on the bench
at our Inn last week.

I was lunching with Mr Justice Prestcold.

Ho ho, that must
have been a jolly occasion.

- Like having dinner with the Macbeths.
- Er, yes.

He asked who I had in Chambers

and I told him, Horace Rumpole,
inter alia.

You know, I can't actually imagine
Frank Prestcold eating.

I suppose he may be brought
to smell the bouquet of a grated carrot.

And he said, "Do you mean the fellow
with the disgraceful hat?"

Justice Prestcold
was talking about my hat?

Yes. He seemed to think...

Forgive me for raising this,
but, er, he seemed to think

that your hat
set the worst possible example

to the younger men at the Bar.

Well, you can tell Mr Justice Prestcold
from me,

when next you share
the Benchers' Vegetarian Platter,

that the last time I appeared before him
I took exception to his cuff links.

To me they looked
just as cheap and glassy as his eyes.

Don't take offence, Horace.

It doesn't do to take offence
at one of Her Majesty's judges.

Well, we'll look forward to the Savoy,
and the best to your good lady.

Ow!

(Hums)

- (Hilda) Rumpole?
- She Who Must Be Obeyed.

(Bellows) Yes, dear?

(Mutters) Inland Revenue,
electricity...

What are you doing to the post?

- Just throwing it away.
- Whatever for?

You always throw it away the first time

or you just encourage them
to send more bills.

If you had a few decent cases, Rumpole,

if you weren't always slumming
around the Magistrates Courts,

you might not be throwing away bills
all the time.

- What's that?
- I think it's the gas.

I never saw a gas bill
with a gold crest on it.

- It's an invitation.
- Yes.

To the Savoy Hotel.

Mr and Mrs Horace Rumpole.

- You wouldn't enjoy it.
- Why?

Oh, you know what it's like.
Prawn cocktails and boiled shirts.

Watching a lot of desiccated judges

pushing their overfed wives
round the parquet

to selections from Oklahoma! .

It would do you good. It's the sort
of place you ought to be seen at.

The Scales Of Justice Ball.

- It's impossible.
- I don't see why.

Well, we're invited by that woman,
Marigold Featherstone.

She's the wife
of your Head Of Chambers.

She is an old boot.

Marigold Featherstone
is a domestic tyrant. A termagant.

Do you know what Guthrie calls her,
behind her back, of course?

She Who Must Be Obeyed.

- No!
- Yes. Isn't that awful?

No, the ball is out. You and Marigold
wouldn't hit it off at all.

Must fly, murder calls.

Why ever didn't you tell me we're back
to murder? Oh, this is good news.

Better fun than dancing.

Morning, judge!

(Laughter)

(Rumpole) 'Mr Justice Prestcold.

'He's discussing my hat again.

'Oh, really!
Isn't the crime rate rising?

'Isn't the state encroaching
on our liberties?

'Isn't Magna Carta tottering?

'Whither habeas corpus?

'What's to be done
about the 12-year-old girls

'who are making advances
to old men in cinemas?

'What I mean is, haven't the judges of
England got enough on their plates

'without worrying about my bloody hat? '

You can't do it to Peter, you can't do it.
How can he fight the case?

Notice of additional evidence.

Prosecution witness -
Bernard Whelpton, known as Four Eyes.

You read what Four Eyes has to say.

Whelpton's evidence doesn't help.
I'm sure you'll agree.

"Tosher MacBride used to take
the mick out of Peter Delgado

"on account he stammered
and didn't have no girlfriends.

"One night I saw Petey try to speak
to a girl in the Paradise Rooms."

That's my club.

"He was asking the girl to have a drink
but his stutter was so bad,

"Tosher said,"Come on, darling,
it'll be breakfast time

"before this silly git finishes asking
for a light ale." Oh, charming!

"After that I heard Peter Delgado say
as he'd get Tosher.

- "He said he'd like to cut him one night."
- He's not a well boy!

And what's Mama gonna feel, her
Petey going through all that for nothing?

"When I came out the Old Justice pub,
I see Tosher on the pavement

"and Peter Delgado kneeling beside him
with his arms round his neck."

You know, it's an odd thing,
nobody actually saw this stabbing.

No, but Peter was there, wasn't he?

And the knife, what about the knife?

Well, in my humble opinion,
the knife in the car is damning.

So, what's the answer about the knife?

Yes, Mr Delgado, what indeed?

I might've had doubts about this case

if you hadn't proved to me
that your brother is innocent.

I did?

Yes, when you sent Dr Lewis Bleen
to see him,

the head-shrinker extraordinaire,
the guru of "What's Bugging You?"

Cures for listeners' neuroses
every Thursday afternoon on Radio 4.

Mr Delgado,
if you had done a stabbing

and all the evidence
was dead against you

and along comes lovely Dr Bleen and
offers you a nice trip to the hospital,

wouldn't you take it?

You mean Peter turned it down?

Course he did. He may not be
all that bright, poor old darling.

But he knows bloody well
he didn't stab Tosher MacBride.

Thank you, Mr Rumpole.

(Hilda) Rumpole!

Rumpole, you look quite different.
Rumpole!

I know what it is, you've got a new hat.

You went out and bought a new hat
without me.

A bowler.

Daddy always used to wear a bowler.

Well, I think it's an improvement.

Whatever are you doing
to the washing up?

Eh? I was thinking about the blood.

- If you stab down more than once...
- Careful!

...you get a spray of blood
over a wide area.

Be careful. It's all over your clothes.

Yes, exactly, all over the place,
not one great big soaking patch.

- There's plenty on the cuff, feel that.
- Your cuffs are soaking.

- Why couldn't you roll up your sleeves?
- Not there, that's perfectly dry.

For goodness' sake, leave the washing
up alone and let me finish it later on.

Oh, I spoke to Marigold Featherstone
this morning.

- What?
- She doesn't sound like an old boot.

So why won't you take me
to the Scales Of Justice Ball?

- Because.
- Because what?

- We are in the autumn of our years.
- Oh, thank you very much.

"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.

"Close bosomed friend
of the maturing sun." Etcetera.

- Why?
- "Where are the songs of Spring?

"Aye, where are they?

"Think not on them,
thou hast thy music too."

But not jigging up and down
like a couple of punk rockers at a dance.

I doubt they have punk rockers
at the Savoy.

Doesn't it occur to you, Rumpole,
that we never go anywhere?

I am perfectly content. I have no longing
to go to the ball like bloody Cinderella.

- Well, I have.
- Hilda, I can't dance.

- You can't what?
- I can't dance.

- Don't ask me, I can't dance.
- You're lying, Rumpole.

Just cast your mind back
to August 14th, 1938.

Oh, God, what happened then?

We met, Rumpole.
As a matter of fact, it was when we met.

- I shouldn't expect you to remember.
- 1938. Of course!

I did the Euston bank robbery,
led by your father.

- Led by Daddy.
- Led by Daddy!

You were young, Rumpole...
Well, comparatively young.

And where exactly did we meet?
I'm sure you can't remember that.

- Er... at a bus stop!
- At a bus stop!

Of course it wasn't at a bus stop.
We met in a tent.

- A tent?
- Well, a marquee.

There was a band and champagne
and some sort of cold collation.

Daddy took me to the Inns of Court Ball

to meet the bright young men
in Chambers.

He told me how helpful you'd been
on blood groups.

Hopeless on blood, dear old Daddy.

He couldn't look at those
terrible photographs.

And we danced together, Rumpole.
We actually waltzed together.

Waltzing's different.
It's just going round and round.

Well, we can waltz together again,
Rumpole.

But you better get into training for it,

because when I rang
Marigold Featherstone

I told her that we should be delighted
to accept the invitation.

So it's all right, is it, if I RSVP it?

'Fate span her bloody wheel.

'And I've got Mr Justice Prestcold

'for my first murder in years
without a leader.

'Many a decent gambler
would've shot himself for less.

'Frank Prestcold
who took grave exception to my hat.

'What's he staring at now?

'Fly buttons undone?
No, he can't see them.

'Wig?
Well, the wig is a bit battered.

'I got it second-hand from
an ex-Chief Justice of Tonga in 1932.

'Oh, do listen to the evidence, Prestcold,
stop staring at me.'

Finally, Mr Whelpton,

I take it
you haven't given this evidence

out of enmity
against the man in the dock?

No. I'm Petey's friend.

We was at university together.

- My Lord.
- Did you say something, Mr Rumpole?

Only that I have an objection to make,
My Lord, in the absence of the jury.

I've got a bit of information that'll
destroy Mr Bernie Four Eyes Whelpton.

- What is it?
- Ten years ago, at East Ham Minicabs.

- Bernie Whelpton got done for perjury.
- You'd better give me the details.

What is the basis of your objection,
Mr Rumpole?

The evidence that this gentleman

was at university with your client
seems fairly harmless.

This may come as a surprise
to Your Lordship.

May it, Mr Rumpole?

But my client is not an old King's man.

He did not meet Mr Four Eyes Whelpton
at a May Ball during Eighth Week.

The University referred to by
Mr Whelpton is Parkhurst Prison.

Mr Rumpole, I very much doubt
whether the average juryman

has your... intimate knowledge
of the argot of the underworld.

Your Lordship is too complimentary.

However, I appreciate your anxiety

to keep your client's past record
out of the case.

I think no harm has been done.
Shall we have the jury back?

As Your Lordship pleases.

- First cock-up by the judge.
- I'm only the articled clerk.

Poor old darling spent his life
at the Bar in Town Planning.

Mr Nooks just stepped outside.

Has as much idea of crime
as I have of higher mathematics.

- (Judge) Are you ready to proceed?
- Still, we do have a point for appeal...

- (Judge) Are you ready to proceed?
- Still, we do have a point for appeal...

Oh, yes, My Lord, quite ready.

So he's got that conviction, perjury.
Rumpole'll have to put it in.

I'll let him know.

Mr Whelpton, when you saw my client,
Peter Delgado,

kneeling beside Tosher MacBride
on the pavement,

did he have an arm
round Mr MacBride's neck?

- Yes.
- Supporting his head from beneath?

I suppose so, yeah.

Rather in the attitude of a doctor
trying to assist a wounded man?

(Judge) I didn't know your client had
any medical qualifications, Mr Rumpole.

Did you say something, My Lord?

I didn't understand
your client was a doctor.

This time Your Lordship is perfectly right.
He isn't.

Could I see exhibit one, please,
the sheath knife?

When my client was holding
Mr MacBride, could you see his hands?

- Yeah.
- Anything in them, was there?

Not as I saw.

- He wasn't holding this knife?
- Look, I didn't see no knife.

If my learned friend remembers,
the knife was found in the car.

Exactly.

So my client stabbed Mr MacBride,
ran to his car, dropped the knife in,

then ran back to comfort
Tosher as he died. Is that it?

He might've slipped the knife
in his pocket.

- Er, Mr Rumpole.
- My Lord?

This is not a time for arguing your case.
It is a time for asking questions.

If you feel your point has any substance,
you will no doubt remind the jury of it

when you come to make
your final address,

at some time in the, no doubt,
distant future.

I'm grateful to Your Lordship,

and no doubt
Your Lordship will remind the jury of it

in your summing up,
if it slips my memory.

It's such an unanswerable point
for the defence.

Mr Whelpton,
did you see Tosher MacBride stabbed?

- I was in the Old Justice, wasn't I?
- Well, you tell us.

Well, I'm telling you, I was in the snug.

Thank you,
and when you came out, Tosher...

Would it not be more respectful
to call that good man,

the deceased, Mr MacBride?

If you like.

When you came out, that good man,
Mr MacBride,

was bleeding in my client's arms?

That was the first I saw of him, yes.

And when he saw you, Mr Delgado
let go of that good man, Mr MacBride,

ran to his car and drove away.
How did he get into his car?

He just pulled the door open.

So, the door was unlocked?

Oh! I suppose it was, yeah.

Er, don't go too fast, Mr Whelpton,

My Lord wants the opportunity
to take a note.

(Sighs)

(Rumpole) So, he did not have
to unlock the door of his car?

- No, sir.
- (Rumpole) Thank you.

We'll adjourn for luncheon now.

Five minutes past two,
members of the jury.

(Usher) Silence and be upstanding!

(Rumpole) 'Bye-bye for now,
old darling. Enjoy your nut cutlet.'

What are you playing at?
Why didn't you use Bernie's conviction?

You really want to know?

This is the boy's mother, Mr Rumpole.
We all want to know.

Point one. So far, I have kept
your brother's record out of this case.

If I produce the convictions
of a prosecution witness,

the jury will know
about Petey's 12-month stretch

for unlawful wounding in 1970.

- Do you want that?
- I was only...

Point two. Mr Whelpton's perjury
was for forging a passport application.

And point three, I need my lunch.

Mr Rumpole,
I'm only the boy's mother...

Don't underestimate yourself, madam,
you have bred three sons

who've given a lot of employment
to the legal profession.

(Sobbing)

For God's sake, what've we got here?

Exactly what you asked for, Mr Delgado.
The counsel of your choice.

Lunch?

Inspector, you photographed
Mr Delgado's old Daimler

when you got it back to the station?

Yes.

Exactly as you'd found it
outside the Paradise Rooms?

Exactly.

With the driver's door unlocked,
and the window open?

Yes, we found the car unlocked.

So it would've been easy

for anyone to have thrown something in
through the window,

or indeed to put something in
through the driver's door?

I don't follow you, sir. Something?

Something like this knife, for instance,

could've been thrown into Mr Delgado's
car in a matter of moments.

- I suppose so.
- By the true murderer, whoever it was.

When he was running away.

'Note from the judge.

"'Your bands are falling down
and showing your collar stud.

"'No doubt you would wish to adjust it."

'What is this, a murder trial
or a bloody fashion parade? '

(Rips note)

Inspector, we have heard Mr Tosher
MacBride described as a rent collector.

Is there to be an attack
on the dead man's character?

I don't know, I'm sure
there are charming rent collectors,

just as there are absolute darlings
in the Inland Revenue.

- (Laughter)
- (Judge) Silence.

- Where were rents collected?
- Businesses.

- What sort of businesses?
- Cafes, My Lord, pubs, minicab offices.

And do you know what remedies
were taken if the rents were not paid?

I assume proceedings were taken
in the County Court.

Alas, My Lord,
some people have no legal training.

If the rents were not paid,

sometimes these business premises
caught on fire, did they not?

Sometimes they did.

To put it bluntly,
that good man, Tosher MacBride,

was a collector for a protection racket.

(Judge) Well, officer, was he?

Yes, My Lord,
I have reason to believe that he was.

And if Mr MacBride had been
sticking to the money he'd collected,

that would've provided
a strong motive for murder

for someone other than my client.

Stronger than a few unkind words
about his speech impediment.

That surely is a question for the jury,
is it not, Mr Rumpole?

Indeed it is, My Lord,
and for no one else in this court.

Leslie!

Mr Thistleton, as a scientific officer

you have lived with bloodstains
almost as long as I have?

Almost.

And you examined the clothing worn
by my client on the night in question?

- I have, My Lord.
- You examined all the pockets?

- I have.
- Are there bloodstains in the pockets?

There are none.

So, there can be no question
of a bloodstained knife

having been hidden in any pocket

while my client was nursing
the deceased in his arms?

- Well, of course not.
- Ah, you find the suggestion amusing?

Yes, I do.
The idea is ridiculous.

You'll be interested to know,
it's on that ridiculous idea

the prosecution's basing its case.

- My Lord!
- Yes.

That was a most improper observation,
Mr Rumpole.

Then I pass from it with despatch,
My Lord.

Mr Thistleton, had my client stabbed
Tosher MacBride repeatedly in the neck,

you would expect a spray of blood
over a wide area of clothing?

You might have found that.

With small drops spattered
from repeated forceful blows?

I should've expected it.

- In fact, you found nothing of the sort?
- No.

And you would've found blood
on the cuff of the coat or the shirt?

Most probably.

Instead, all we have is a large soaked
patch in the crook of the left arm?

Yes.

Consistent with my client merely
having supported the deceased's head

as he lay bleeding in his arms?

- Not inconsistent.
- "Not inconsistent"!

Mr Thistleton, doesn't not inconsistent

when translated into plain English
mean consistent?

- Yes, it does.
- Thank you.

There you are, Petey.
Your brother wants to sack me.

Mr Delgado is a little perturbed
at the course this case is taking.

Mr Leslie Delgado is not my client.

He thinks we're on the wrong side
of the judge.

Would he like to point out,
for my personal information,

the right side of Mr Justice Prestcold?

Who does his lordship think he is,

court correspondent
for The Tailor And Cutter?

Look, Petey, old sweetheart,
I've abandoned that judge.

He'll sum up dead against you,
that's obvious.

But if we let the jury think he's the sort
of bloke that shoves Airwick up his nose

every time he smells a real human being,
we might've got somewhere.

- Wouldn't you agree?
- Mr Delgado is definitely dissatisfied.

This puts me in a very
embarrassing position.

Oh, cheer up, Nooks, old darling.

Your position isn't nearly
as embarrassing as Petey's.

Well, do I go or stay?

And now, members of the jury,

And now, members of the jury,

I would like to draw your attention
to a man we have not seen.

He is not in the dock,
he has not appeared in the witness box.

I don't know where he is now.

Perhaps he is savouring the delights
of the Costa Brava,

lying beside the heated swimming pool
with his aperitif,

and reading his airmail edition
of the Daily Express.

Perhaps he is very near to this court,
waiting for news.

Wherever he is, I shall call him Mr X.

Did Mr X employ Tosher MacBride

as a collector
in one of his protection rackets,

and had Tosher MacBride
betrayed his trust?

So that on that fateful night
outside the Old Justice pub,

Mr X waited... with this knife

and when he saw his faithless servant
emerge from the shadows, he struck.

Not once, not twice, but you have heard
the evidence, three times in the neck.

(Judge clears throat)

But you are the only judges of facts
in this case.

And if you find Peter Delgado guilty,

then Mr X will smile
and order up champagne,

because wherever he is,
he will know that he is safe, at last.

(TV) 'The jury are still out
in the Bermondsey murder case.

'Summing up today, the judge told
the seven men and five women,

'that if they thought there was any force

'in the defence argument
they would acquit,

'but that the evidence for the prosecution
was "almost overwhelming".'

(Radio) 'Earlier,
Mr Horace Rumpole, the defence,

'had suggested the guilt
of an unknown man, a "Mr X"...'

(Phone rings)

'... who would "smile and order
up champagne" if Peter Delgado... '

Hello.

Rumpole!

What? No, they're not back,
they've been out for hours.

Well, yes,
I'll just have to meet you there.

No, I can change in Chambers.

Ah, Hilda,
I want this firmly understood,

I am not dancing. Under no...

(Usher) The jury's coming back.
I think we've got a verdict.

Jury's back! Farewell!

"Trailing clouds of glory, do we come."

Well, Petey!

What are you so bloody miserable
about? They might've found you guilty.

Well, where's the champagne?
I expected a party.

Ah, come on, cheer up.

My God, I don't know what you'd be like
if you'd lost.

- I was meant to l-Iose.
- Who meant you to? The prosecution?

Of course.
Mr Justice Prestcold, indubitably.

Fate, destiny,
the spirit of the universe?

Not as it turned out.
The verdict was written in the stars.

"Not guilty of murder."
"And is that the verdict of you all?"

That's why they c-chose you.
I was meant to l-Iose.

I don't follow.

Bloke while I was w-waiting in the cell
used to know Bernie Four Eyes.

He told me why my b-brothers
chose you to defend me.

Oh, well, I do have a certain reputation
in the Temple, you know.

My crown may be a bit tarnished.

Been doing too many
indecent assaults lately.

He heard 'em talking round

the P-P-Paradise Rooms
'bout this old fella, Rumpole.

Did you know that the Penge Bungalow
Murders are in Notable British Trials?

I suppose I may have become a bit
of a household name in criminal circles.

They was looking for a b-b-barrister
that was sure to l-l-Iose.

I suppose after this I can get back
to a better quality of crime.

What did you say?

They wanted m-m-me
defended by someone

they could c-c-count on
for a guilty verdict.

That's why they p-p-picked you for it.

They wanted to fit me up
with doing Tosher.

You mean your brothers picked me
to nobble your defence?

That's it. You was to be the j-j-jockey
that pulled me back.

And how did they come to light on me?
Me, Rumpole of the Bailey?

Heard of an old bloke,

down to little bits and p-p-pieces
round the M-Magistrates C-Court.

Bit of a m-muddler.

- Got p-past it, with a funny old t-titfer.
- That bloody hat, again.

So they r-reckoned
you was just the bloke to lose.

I shouldn't have told you.

Perhaps it's all l-lies.

You hear lots of s-s-stories
in the cells under the B-B-Bailey.

Yes.

Up in the Bar mess, too.

They rubbish your reputation.

- Have a cigar.
- All right.

Well, Petey...
where does this leave you?

Well, I'd say, Mr Rumpole,
none too s-s...

- Safe?
- Yeah. What about you?

- What?
- Where does it l-leave you?

Oh. Yes.

(Applause)

(Rumpole) Well done, most delightful.

(Hilda) You look charming, my dear.

- (Hilda) Really, Rumpole, She.
- She?

- (Marigold) She?
- Oh, She.

A woman of fabulous beauty.
Written up by H Rider Haggard.

Waiter, the tide's gone out.

Your husband's had a good win.

He hasn't had just a good win, Guthrie,
he's had a triumph!

A triumph, and solely due to my old hat.

- Here's to it.
- What?

My triumph, or rather my great
opportunity, is due to my hat.

- Nonsense!
- It was.

He's talking nonsense.
He does, you know, from time to time.

No, Wumpole run because, er...

Rumpole won because he knows
so much about blood.

- Really?
- Well, Daddy...

You remember my late Daddy,
don't you?

Of course you do.
He used to be your Head of Chambers.

Daddy told me, Rumpole,
Daddy told me...

In fact, he told me
on the occasion of the Inns of Court Ball

which is practically the last dance
we went to.

- Hilda...
- No. Don't interrupt me.

Horace Rumpole, Daddy told me,

knows more about bloodstains
than anyone we've got in Chambers.

Give over, Hilda.
Marigold's gone quite pale.

Don't you find it, well, sordid sometimes?

- What?
- Crime. Don't you find it terribly sordid?

Do be careful, don't knock it, Marigold.

I think it must be sordid.

Abolish crime, you abolish
the very basis of our existence.

- Oh, come on, Horace.
- He's right. He knows about bloodstains.

Abolish crime, we would all vanish.

The prawn cocktail, the duck � I'orange,
the selections from Oklahoma! ,

the cloud-capped towers,
the gorgeous palaces.

What do you think pays for all this?

- Blood.
- Crime.

- Don't you help them?
- Don't I what?

Help them. Doing all these crimes.
I mean, after all, you get them off.

Ah, not today, Marigold.
I didn't help them. No. I wasn't grateful.

You got Peter Delgado off.

- For one reason.
- What was that?

- Blood.
- He was innocent.

Oh, Horace,
how can you be sure of that?

You know it's a most extraordinary thing,
my learned friend.

We go through all the mumbo jumbo.
We put on the wig and the gown.

We mutter the ritual prayers,

"If Your Lordship pleases,"
"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury."

- Abracadabra. Fee Fi Fo Bloody Fum.
- Yes, well...

And just when everybody thinks
you're going to produce

the most ludicrously faked piece
of cheesecloth ectoplasm, there it is!

Clear as a bell. The truth.
Don't you find that?

- There are two ways...
- It's bloody scaring sometimes, eh?

Ha ha, but there it is, the truth!

Naked and embarrassing. Ha ha!

Oh, Nooks. Shady Nooks.

Excuse me. I'd like to con with you
in the morning, Mr Featherstone.

- Really? Why, what's happened?
- It was on the news.

They've arrested Leslie Delgado,
for the murder of MacBride.

- Oh, surprise, surprise!
- Is there any evidence?

They discovered MacBride
was working for Leslie.

And there are witnesses who'll say
they heard Leslie setting it up.

The Robertson family.

Would you like to take me on, Nooks?
Or is that overegging the pudding?

Yes, in that case you will want
early... advice on evidence.

Get me all the form on the Robertsons.
What was that, Rumpole?

- Hilda.
- Yes, dear. What is it?

- I have the most extraordinary feeling.
- What is it, what do you want?

I want... I want... I want to dance.

Oh!

- Come along, my darling.
- Excuse us.

(Rumpole) Mind the step!

I'll have the last waltz with you

Two sleepy people together

I'm so in love with you

The last waltz will last forever

(Laughter)

Very nice!

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