All language subtitles for Rumpole s02e01

It's all right.

He's got green hair and an earring.

(Inaudible)

Well.

It's... It's a mystery, I'm afraid.

What do you mean?

I can tell you that.
Mystery is my business.

It means... something for which
there is no logical explanation.

If you'd like to wait
in Mr Rumpole's room.

Of course, we do very little crime
as ecclesiastical solicitors.

I'm told that this man, Rumpole,

has tremendous experience
of shoplifters.

- My brother is not a shoplifter.
- No, of course not.

- No.
- Take your coat off.

You won't feel the good of it
when you go out.

(Rumpole) 'Mornings at 7:00... '

(Church bell)

'Or rather just past 10:30.

"'The hillside's dew pearled

"'The lark's on the wing

"'The snail's on the thorn
God's in His heaven..."

'With any luck at all,

'there's a little crime going on
somewhere.

'Robert Browning,
the Rumpole version.

'What's on today?

'Main course,
a committal at Bow Street.

'Hor d'oeuvre,
a conference with a vicar.'

Mordred is so absent-minded.

The number of times he's asked me
to look for his spectacles.

And they're on the end of his nose!

We must tell Mr Rumpole that.

(Rumpole) 'The trouble with vicars is

'they make
the most terrible witnesses.

'We've all called them, haven't we?

'To tell the judge that the lad
who mugged the old lady

'is a pillar of the local youth club,

'and coming on nicely at ping-pong.

'When you get that sort of evidence
from gentlemen of the cloth,

'it adds two years to the sentence.'

That's an insult, Henry.
That was a very long case.

- Contact their solicitors.
- I'll have a go, sir.

- "The year's at the spring..."
- I saw a priest going in your room.

- My con. Is that right?
- Right, sir.

Your conversion? Is Number Three
Equity Court your road to Damascus?

Erskine-Brown, you've made a funny.

(Laughs)

Very rich. Most amusing.

The Man of God
has come to seek my earthly advice.

A vicar in trouble.
I suppose it's the choir boys again.

(Rumpole) Not this time, Uncle Tom.
It's the sales.

I always thought
it was a risk having choir boys.

They would be far safer
with middle-aged lady sopranos.

I didn't think vicars
were your line of country.

Of course they are!

The unworldly cleric with his eyes
fixed on eternity, caught nicking shirts.

- You find that comic?
- No. Perish the thought.

The reverend will have
my most serious attention.

I shouldn't have thought you'd have
a lot in common with your client.

- No one can say you're devout.
- Would you say not?

Your religion is getting off
as many villains as possible.

Let's say to keeping the prisons
as empty as possible.

I am very religiously inclined
to have fun with the prosecution.

Excuse me.
I must go to the Man of God.

- Oh, not you.
- What are you talking about?

- Rumpole's defending a clergyman.
- Shoplifting at the sales.

A step up from your usual clientele.

Our waiting room is like
a rogue's gallery.

One feels grateful
for the odd dog collar.

- Coffee, Guthrie?
- Oh, thank you.

We need more
of Erskine-Brown's clients.

Property developers have
such a beautiful sense of morality.

There is a lot to be said
for simple larceny.

See you in church, Rumpole!

- George, my dear fellow!
- Morning, Rumpole.

You haven't forgotten about tonight?

We're splitting a bottle
at Pommeroys.

No. I'm bringing a friend to dinner
with you and Hilda.

You want to spend an evening
with She Who Must Be Obeyed?

- We fixed it up weeks ago.
- Yes, we did.

- No Pommeroys, then?
- We might bring a bottle with us.

I have a little news. I'd like you
and Hilda to be the first to know.

Have you been indulging
in brilliantine?

We'll be there for 7:30, Rumpole.

Good morning, all.

I was, I suppose, a little confused.
A little preoccupied.

It is a tremendous honour.

To be nicked in the Hall of Food?

He has been invited to preach
in Interdenominational Week.

- At the cathedral.
- By the Bishop of Deptford.

We must make sure
you don't let your public down.

Now, then, it was three sport shirts...

with collars, presumably.

- Do you wear that sort of shirt?
- Oh, yes.

With the Lads' Brigade?
On rambles around Ruislip?

- He takes them to Epping Forest.
- Oh, I do apologise.

Now, Mr Skinner, when you were
in the gents' haberdashery,

your mind was on what,
you say, exactly?

- The problem of evil.
- Oh, really?

Yes, you see,
what puzzles the ordinary fellow

is if God is all wise
and perfectly good,

then why did he put evil
in the world?

- May I suggest an answer.
- Please.

So ordinary fellows could pick up
a few briefs round the Old Bailey!

No, no.

- This may seem trivial to you.
- It is not trivial.

A man's reputation is never trivial.
I ask you both to take it seriously.

Mr Skinner, address your mind
to one vital question.

How the hell did the three sport shirts
in your shopping basket get there?

I can't tell you.
I've prayed about it.

They leapt off the counter
by the power of prayer?

Yours seems to be
an extremely literal faith.

May I remind you, Mr Skinner,

that when you were asked for
an explanation by the store detective,

the best you could come up with
was it was a mystery.

That's the best explanation
one can give

of the important things in life.

Are you suggesting
my brother is guilty?

Of course not. I have complete faith
in your brother's innocence.

Innocent he will be until
12 commonsensical old darlings,

picked at random, find him otherwise.

Oh, I rather thought a quick hearing

with the least possible publicity.

A quick hearing
is as good as pleading guilty.

You might win with a jury?

Juries are rather like
God Almighty, Mr Skinner,

totally unpredictable.

(Phone rings)

Good day.

- We'll ask for a jury trial.
- Yes, yes.

Yes, Henry.

Oh, Mr Skinner...
when you are next at prayer,

you might put in an application
for a defence.

Yes, who is it?

Yes, Hilda.

I haven't forgotten
George is coming to dinner,

and bringing a friend.

Oh, I don't know. It might be a lady.

He's doused his head in brilliantine.

(Chuckles)

Two pounds of cooking apples

from the shop near the tube station.

I suppose so. Any further orders?

No, I won't be late. Bye.

She Who Must Be Obeyed.

- Mr Rumpole.
- Oh, Miss Skinner.

You don't understand my brother.

I'm never at home with vicars.

- He's like a child.
- Oh, the Peter Pan of the pulpit.

I've always had
to look after Mordred.

He would never
have got anywhere without me.

Mordred never thinks
about what he's doing.

Make that clear to the jury.

You should have kept a better eye
on him.

Of course. I should have been
watching him like a hawk. I blame myself.

(Mordred) Evelyn?

Coming, dear. I'm coming at once.

"Always keep tight hold of nurse,

"for fear of finding
something worse."

Ah! There we go!

We wanted you
to be the first to know.

- Oh, I do love champagne.
- Nice of you to bring a bottle.

I love how it goes
tickly up your nose.

We hardly get it
often enough to notice.

Well, if we're all filled up...

I suppose it falls to me. Accustomed
as I am to public speaking...

Usually on behalf
of the criminal classes.

I know what's expected of me.

You mean you're like
the film star's fifth husband?

You know what's expected,
but you don't know how to make it new!

(Laughs)

Oh, yes. Rather good that.
Here's to the happy couple.

Here's to us, Georgie.

(Laughing)

Would you care for more
Charlotte Russe, Mrs Tempest?

Oh, Ida. Do, please, call me Ida.

Well, er...
just a teeny-weeny scraping.

I don't want to lose my figure,

otherwise
he may not fancy me any more.

- There's no danger of that.
- What of you not fancying me?

- I know you.
- Of you losing your figure.

She's as slim as a bluebell,
isn't she?

That depends on the size
of the bluebell.

Oh, Horace, you are terrible!

(Laughs)

Why have you kept
this terrible man from me?

- I hope we see more of each other.
- When?

- After we're married.
- Oh, yes, George. Of course.

That will be nice.

Er... let me top you up.

Lovely glasses. They're so tasteful.

Georgie, isn't that
a lovely, tasteful glass?

They're export rejects
from the Army and Navy stores.

Oh, lovely.

What whim of providence was it
that led you to George Frobisher?

Mrs Tempest, that is Ida,
came as a guest to the Royal Borough.

That's where I've been putting up.

- You noticed me, didn't you, dear?
- I did.

And I noticed him noticing me.

You know how it is with men, Hilda.

Sometimes I wonder
if Rumpole notices me at all.

Of course! I notice you all the time.

I come home from work,

and there you are.

We first spoke
in the manageress' office.

We'd gone to register
a complaint on bath water.

- Bath water?
- There's not enough hot

to fill the valleys,
let alone cover the hills.

(Laughs)

- George agreed with me.
- Well, we formed an alliance.

Oh, we hit it off at once.
We have so much in common.

- Oh, really?
- Ballroom dancing.

What?

Mrs Tempest, that is Ida,
has cups for it.

George,
you're a secret ballroom dancer?

We're going for lessons together

at Miss MacKay's Ecole de Dance
in Rutland Gate.

Is your life to be devoted
entirely to pleasure?

(Laughs)

Does Horace tango at all, Hilda?

He's never been known to.

Crime is seriously cutting into
my time for the tango.

It's such a pity, dear.
You don't know what you're missing.

- You'll want to powder your nose.
- No. I don't think so.

- My nose isn't shiny, is it?
- No, but...

Oh, you mean spend a penny?
No, no!

No. No, that wasn't
what I meant, actually.

But it is customary at this stage

to leave the gentlemen alone.

Oh, you mean, you'd like a hand
with the washing-up?

Now, not too many
naughty stories, boys.

I don't want you leading
my Georgie astray.

(George) Charming.
Isn't she charming, Rumpole?

Oh, your Mrs Tempest

seems to have
a certain vitality, George.

- She's an able businesswoman, too.
- Oh, really?

She used to run a hotel.
Excellent business, I believe.

- Somewhere in Kent.
- Is that so?

I thought after we're married
she might take up a hotel again.

- Perhaps in the West Country.
- But what about you?

Will you give up the Bar?
Devote yourself to the veleta?

I don't want to boast,

but I thought I might go
for a circuit judgeship.

- What?
- In fact, I have already applied.

- In some rural area.
- A judge, George?

- You a judge?
- Yes.

It might suit you well.
You never were good in court!

(Laughing)

- Was it in Ramsgate?
- What?

Where your Mrs Tempest
ran a small hotel?

- Why do you ask?
- No particular reason.

Cheers.

Horace seems a kind person.

(Hilda) Not when I ask him
to carry the shopping basket.

- But he always defends.
- That's not because he's kind.

That's because he likes
to tease judges.

You don't get much of a chance
if you prosecute.

If only Rumpole would prosecute.
Then they might make him a judge.

Might they?

He should be moving on.

He's done it all by now.
All the heavy crime.

He'll soon tell you all about it.
He loves talking about his old cases.

(Glass smashes)

It's one of your lovely glasses.

It doesn't matter.
No, it really doesn't matter.

I'll get the dustpan.

- Don't do it, George.
- Don't be a judge?

Don't be married.

Look, George, old chap,
Your Honour,

if Your Lordship pleases,
have a bit of consideration.

- Where would you be leaving me?
- As you are now.

Those peaceful moments.
The end of the day.

Those hours we spend over a bottle
of Ch�teau Fleet Street from 5:30pm on

in Pommeroys wine bar.

Ah, that wonderful oasis of peace

that glides between the Bailey
and the horrors of home life.

I'm very fond of you, Rumpole,

but you're not someone with whom
one can share everything.

- I'm not a dab hand at the two-step.
- I didn't say that!

George, don't do it.
It's like pleading guilty.

For an indefinite sentence...
without parole.

- You're exaggerating.
- I am not. I swear I am not.

Listen to me, George.

Do you know what happens
on a Saturday morning

when free men
are having a nice lie-in,

or wandering toward a glass
of breakfast Chablis

and a slow read of the obituaries?

You will both set out with a list
and an embroidered shopping basket.

Your wife will spend
your hard-earned cash

on things
you haven't the desire to own,

like Vim, saucepan scourers
and J-cloths and Mansion polish.

When it's stuffed full,

you will be asked to carry
the damn pansy-Iooking thing home,

like a native bearer!

George, don't do it!

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

Yes, Hilda.

You can carry in the coffee tray.

See what I mean?

Do you see what I mean?

Of course she won't do for George.

You think so? Why not?

Noticing our glasses. I'd thought
she'd ask me how much they are.

�12.50, please.

It's such bad form,
noticing people's things.

All the profits
of the Portsmouth rape trial,

frittered away on Vim.

Wire wool. Saucepan scourers.

Saucepan scourers
all present and correct.

Butter, tea and bags

and the eggs.

All right, Rumpole,
you can carry the basket now.

Yes...

You get the fun of buying.
All I get is the hard labour!

What do we do with all that Vim?
Do we eat Vim?

You would soon miss it,
if it wasn't there.

(Rumpole) 'The Penge
bungalow murders.

'The Cheltenham circus killing.

'Memories of my distant triumphs
and disasters.

"'Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow

"'For old and happy far-off things

"'And battles long ago."

'Battles...

'Long... Iong ago.

'Ah, the Ramsgate arson case.

'Unexplained destruction
of the Saracen's Head Hotel.'

Oh, have you seen George?

- Frobisher?
- Yes.

- No, he hasn't been in yet.
- Glass of wine?

- I was waiting for Claude, actually.
- Claude?

- Erskine-Brown.
- Oh! I keep forgetting.

"Claude..." It makes me feel
fond of him.

- Why are you waiting for him?
- Well, we are engaged.

Ah, yes, so you are. Yes...

Listen, are you sure you know
enough about him?

Yes.

One would want to know everything

about someone before matrimony.

Go on. Surprise me.

Tell me he married
a middle-aged Persian contortionist.

It would make him
far more interesting.

Hello, darling.
Rumpole's told me everything.

Rumpole, I have some news...
What do you mean, Phylli?

- About your murky past.
- I haven't got one.

I was afraid of that.

Henry gave me the prosecution brief in
the Queen versus the Reverend Skinner.

Oh, has he?

It's a lot of fuss to make
for a couple of shirts.

It isn't a couple of shirts.
It's three.

It's the principle. When a man
is a paragon of morality...

You think it's fun to pot him.

It'll be a most painful duty.

My heart bleeds for you!

I shall be fascinated to see

how you conduct
the religious ceremony.

You've forgotten what my religion is...

having fun with the prosecution.

Ah, there he is! Excuse me.
George! George!

At last, a case where Rumpole
has got no defence.

- He'll have to plead guilty.
- It's against his religion.

We've just got time for one.

Er... Miss...

Pichon-Longueville 1967.

- You celebrating, George?
- In a way, yes.

We have a glass or two
in the room now.

It's pleasant in the room.

We listen
to the BBC's Overseas Service.

Old Victor Sylvester records
requested from Nigeria.

Ballroom dancing is only cared for
in the Third World.

- I'd like to talk to you.
- Sorry, Rumpole.

- It wouldn't do to keep Ida waiting.
- George!

Yes, Mr Rumpole.

Red plonk, please, Peg. Large glass.

Ch�teau Fleet Street.

I have nothing to celebrate.

(Rumpole) 'It's an extraordinary thing.

'It always looks like a wet Monday
round the Inner London.

'Stuck in the desert
of Newington Causeway

'with nowhere to go
for steak and kidney pud.

'An unhappy sort of court.
Down the Old Kent Road,

'with all the cheeky Cockney sparrows

'turned into sad, silent figures

'waiting for the burglary
to come on in court two.

'And juries look as if they relied
on the work

'to eke out their Social Security.'

(Rumpole) Morning.

"When holy and devout religious men
are at their beads

"'Tis shame to draw them thence,
So sweet is gentle contemplation."

Nervous?

No. I'm strangely calm.

We are before Judge Bullingham.

- Judge who?
- Bullingham.

Dearly beloved brethren,
God is not on our side.

He has sent us Bullingham.

How do we explain that, vicar?
Is that the Almighty's sense of humour?

Are you telling us Judge Bullingham
doesn't like parsons?

God knows.
I doubt he has ever met one.

The Bull's leisure tastes run
to watching court and wrestling.

He learns most from the wrestling.
Shall we enter the ring?

(Rumpole) "'God moves
in a mysterious way

"'His wonders to perform."

'And nothing more mysterious

'than Roger Bullingham as
a circuit judge in the Inner London.

'I can only suppose that Bull's
unreasoned prejudices

'against all black persons, defence
lawyers and probation officers

'comes from
some deep psychological cause,

'or perhaps his mother,

'if such a creature can be imagined,

'was assaulted
by a black probation officer

'on his way to give evidence
for the defence.'

Your Honour, I am here to prosecute.

Who is for the defence?

Mr Rumpole.

I have the honour to represent
the Reverend Mordred Skinner.

Before you became a store detective,
you were in the police.

- Yes, sir.
- Why did you leave the force?

Pay and conditions
were hardly satisfactory.

And that being so, you decided
it would be more profitable

to keep your eye on the lingerie
than do battle with serious crime.

Are you suggesting, Mr Rumpole,
this is not a serious crime?

For many, the theft of three
shirts may seem a mere triviality,

but for the Reverend Mordred Skinner

they represent the possibility
of total ruin. Disgrace and disaster.

My client's whole world
hangs in the balance.

Mr Rumpole...

- It can't be decided by a judge alone.
- Mr Rumpole...

That is why we must cling
to our most cherished institution,

trial by jury, ladies and gentlemen,

with our your fairness,
common sense and knowledge.

Mr Rumpole, you should know
your business.

This is not the time for making speeches.

You will have an opportunity at the end.

As Your Honour
can make a speech after me,

I thought it might be as well
to make clear

who the judges of fact in this case are.

Yes.

- Very well. Get on with it.
- Certainly.

When you were
in the shirt department

you didn't see my client
make off with the shirts?

- No, sir.
- If he had, he would have told us.

Your Honour notices points
in favour of the defence.

Then why did you follow him?

The supervisor noticed
there were shirts missing.

She said there was a reverend
turning them over.

He might not told us that,

if you hadn't asked
the wrong question.

No question is wrong
if it reveals the truth.

So, you don't know whether my client

was carrying the shirts when he left?

No.

- Did he have them on the staircase?
- I only saw his head.

So, the first time you saw him with
the basket was in the Hall of Food?

That's right, sir.

Are you suggesting
a basket full of shirts

mysteriously materialised
in your client's hand

in the tinned-meat department?

(Laughing)

May I remind Your Honour what
himself said? This is a serious case.

As you cross-examined,
I was beginning to wonder.

Cross-examination
is like walking the tightrope.

Is it?

One gets on so much better
if one isn't continually interrupted.

It was impossible for my client to have
paid in the shirt department, wasn't it?

- No. There were two assistants.
- Oh, really? Young ladies?

- Yes, sir.
- What were they doing?

I can't recall.

Well, then, let me jog your memory.

(Rumpole) 'I mean
let me hazard a guess.'

Were they not huddled together
in an act of total recall

of last night at the disco
or the Palais de Hop?

Were they not blind and deaf
to the cries of shirt-buying clerics?

Were they not totally oblivious?

(Rumpole) 'That's right. You know
all about young lady non-assistants.'

Mr Batt, isn't that
what they were doing?

It may have been.

Is it surprising my client
should take his purchases

and go elsewhere in search
of more attentive assistance?

I followed him downstairs
into the Hall of Food!

In the witness box,
my client will say

that he intended
to pay for his purchases,

given the slightest opportunity.

(Mr Batt) I saw no signs
of his attempting to do so!

(Rumpole) Just as the ladies
didn't attempt to take his money.

No, but...

It's a risky business
going into your store.

You can't get served. The only time
anyone talks to you is to tell you

that you are under arrest.

Mr Batt, did you see Mr Skinner
make any attempt

to pay for his shirts in the Hall of Food?

No. No, I didn't.

He didn't ask for them
to be wrapped up with a pound of ham?

(Laughs)

This is not a music hall.
This is a serious case.

The Reverend's future
may be at stake.

If Your Honour pleases.

What did Mr Skinner say
when you stopped him?

- Did he offer an explanation?
- He said it was a mystery.

He added, Your Honour,
that mystery was his business.

Mystery was his business.

I suggest we pursue
the mystery at 2:10,

members of the Jury.

Mr Morse, could you take
Miss Skinner to the canteen?

Or would you prefer the pub?
A pie and a pint?

- No. Thank you.
- Very well. Come along, vicar.

This way, Miss Skinner.

Now, then, what did you mean by that?

"You can't call me to give evidence."
I'll have to.

- I could not take the oath.
- Have you no religion?

You don't like me.

You might have told me the truth.
You of all people.

It must mean something,
wearing your collar back to front.

Truth is sometimes dangerous.

It should be approached cautiously.

Well, let me approach it cautiously.

I've noticed with women...
my wife, for example.

When we go out on
our shopping expedition,

She Who Must Be Obeyed has complete
charge over the shopping basket.

She makes the decisions,
like how much Vim goes into it.

When all the shopping is finished,

I get the job of carrying it home.

Simple faith is far more important

than the constant scramble
after unimportant facts.

That's what the lives of the saints
tell us.

My simple faith tells me

that your sister had that shopping basket
in the shirt department.

Does it?

When Batt approached you
in the Hall of Food,

you were carrying the basket
she'd given to you.

- Perhaps.
- Your sister took those shirts.

And put them into the basket

while you were thinking
about your sermon.

- Don't you like mysteries?
- Not much.

I could tell you a story.
You may not find it helpful.

Oh, try me.

She was a pretty child.
Difficult to believe it now.

She was always attracted
to bright things.

Boiled sweets. Red apples.
Jewellery from Woolworths.

As she grew older, it became worse.

She would take things
she couldn't possibly need.

Like spectacles and bead handbags,

cigarette cases,
although she never smoked.

She was like a magpie.

I thought she had improved, but...

I do try and watch her
as much as I can

but on that day,
I was involved with my sermon.

I have no need of such shirts.

I may be old-fashioned,
but I always wear a dog collar.

Even on your rambles.

Even so, I believe she did it out of love.

Those are the facts.

They are of no importance to anyone
except our immediate family.

That is what I will say,
if I take oath on the Bible.

- You were prepared to lie to me.
- There is a difference.

I have the greatest respect for you,

but I've never mistook you
for Almighty God.

- Tell the truth. She'll get a fine.
- No. She couldn't bear it.

But you'd give up your whole life?

- It's the least I can do for her.
- Sweet Jesus!

- I don't know how I keep my temper.
- I sympathise.

He found His ideas
irritated people dreadfully.

Particularly lawyers.

- He won't go into the witness box.
- What do we do?

What, indeed?

Convince the jury
there's not enough evidence.

- Can you do that?
- With the Bull charging against me?

- I suggest...
- What?

Pray for a miracle.

Ladies and gentlemen of the Jury,

there is a golden thread

that runs throughout British justice.

It is this...

the prosecution must prove its case.

The defence
needs to prove nothing.

Mr Rumpole...

The Reverend Mordred Skinner
need not move to the witness box,

unless the prosecution
have produced evidence

to show that he intended to steal

and not pay in another department!

(Judge) Mr Rumpole!

A man is forced
to prove his innocence.

Our fathers have defied kings
for their principles.

They forced King John
to sign Magna Carta.

They sent King Charles
to the block for it!

And now it has been handed down.

Even to the Inner London Sessions,
Newington Causeway.

- (Judge) If you would let me...
- Now it is in your hands!

Mr Rumpole,
I entirely agree with what you say.

But I shall direct
the jury accordingly.

(Rumpole) 'Now I know how
the Israelites felt when the sea parted.

'Or the amazement of the disciples
when the water darkened

'and smelt of the grape.

'His Honour, Judge Bullingham,

'is about to find for the defence.'

(Judge) Mr Erskine-Brown, what is it?

Your Honour, surely...

There is ample evidence of guilt.

Have you proved that Mr Skinner
wouldn't have paid?

(Rumpole) 'Most rightful judge.'

- Perhaps not.
- "Perhaps not" is not good enough.

(Rumpole) 'Most learned judge.'

When asked to explain...

(Judge) The defence does not
have to explain.

(Rumpole) 'Oh, upright judge! '

He did explain.
He said it was a mystery.

That is hardly an explanation,
Mr Erskine-Brown, is it? Of anything.

(Rumpole) 'A Daniel come to judgment! '

If he had meant to pay...

He probably forgot all about it.

Clergymen are
notoriously absent-minded.

Mr Erskine-Brown,
is there something else?

Even you may not have realised it,

but you've just witnessed a miracle!

The natural malice of the Bull

quelled by the rule of law.

I was reconciled to losing.

I don't think my sister
would have stood by me.

She couldn't have put up
with the disgrace.

- I should have been alone.
- You would have been out of a job.

I heard the rustle of an unfrocking.

It might have been restful.

Not to have to pretend
to any sanctity.

Not to pretend to be different or better.
Just the same as all your clients.

My clients?

Don't long for a life of crime.
You don't have the talent for it.

We can go now.
You're quite free to go.

Miss Skinner, I told your brother
it was a miracle.

You're much too religious, Mr Rumpole.

I thought the judge
was extremely fair.

- Better put your mac on.
- All right.

Come for tea in the rectory.

Alas, dear lady,
I have so little time for pleasure.

Say goodbye, Mordred.
Come along, Mr Morse.

Goodbye, Mr Rumpole.

You see, it was entirely a family matter.

- Everyone's waiting for you.
- Oh, Miss Trant!

I'm sorry. I was lost for a minute.

Lost in my old, forgotten cases.

"Old, unhappy far-off things
And battles long ago."

Do you keep things?
Mementoes? Locks of hair?

Bundles of letters
tied up with ribbon?

- No. Not really.
- Good.

I have still got my first brief
from when I prosecuted you.

Oh, yes. When I outwitted you.

(Laughs)

Burn it. Forget the past.
Look to the future.

- Right.
- Mmm.

Are you coming to this party
for George?

Yes, of course.

George,
he'll have a lot to celebrate.

(Chattering)

- Can I give you some more?
- Oh, yes.

- That was a monstrous win.
- Oh, was it?

Bullingham behaved abominably.

Rubbish! He gave you a taste of what
it feels like for the defence.

- It was a miracle you got off.
- It may have seemed like that to you.

It's possible that justice was done,
after all.

- I don't believe a word of it.
- Oh, ye of little faith!

Oh, quiet... Sorry. Sorry.

It's well known amongst lawyers
that the finest advocate

never makes the best judge.

(Laughing)

It's the glory of the advocate
to be opinionated, brash

hectoring, partisan,
rude, cunning and unfair.

- Rumpole!
- Bullingham, Erskine-Brown!

The ideal judge, however,
is detached and courteous,

patient, painstaking
and, above all things, quiet.

(Applause)

These virtues
are to be found personified

in the latest edition
to our circuit judges.

(AIl) Here!

Circus judges, Rumpole calls them.

So, would you please
raise your glasses

to, His Honour,
Judge George Frobisher?

(AIl) Judge George Frobisher!

- Well done.
- Good luck.

Thank you, Harold.

Coupled with the name
of Mrs Ida Tempest.

- No, Rumpole, no.
- What do you mean no?

She should share your triumphs.
You can give us an exhibition tango.

Is she keeping the Moet
on ice for you?

Mrs Tempest left
the Royal Borough last week.

I have no means to find her.

- (Man) Speech.
- Yes, I'm coming.

(Chattering)

I'm totally unprepared
to say anything.

- I think he's sweet.
- Lovely dancer, too, I'm told.

You're joking!

I have long felt the need
to retire from the practice of the Bar...

Did he have a practice at the Bar?

Thank you, Uncle Tom.

...to escape from the benevolent
despotism of Henry,

now our senior clerk...

Can you do a careless driving
tomorrow at Croydon?

No, Henry, I can't.

(Laughing)

I have long considered applying
for a circuit judgeship in a rural area.

Where are they sending you?
Glorious Devon?

I think they're starting me off
in Luton.

I hope I will have the pleasure

of you all appearing before me.

- Where are they sending him?
- (Yells) Luton, Uncle Tom!

- Luton, glorious Luton!
- Ssh! Henry!

Naturally, as a judge, as one, however
humble, of Her Majesty's Judges,

certain standards
will be expected of me.

No more carousing in Pommeroys
with Horace Rumpole.

No, well...

I mean to try do my best

and to live up to those standards.

That's all. Thank you.

(Applause)

I am sorry to hear about Mrs Tempest.

- It was all your fault.
- My fault?

I didn't say anything.

Discretion is my middle name.

When I brought her to dinner,
she recognised you.

She didn't say anything.

She's a very remarkable woman.

I was the junior counsel for her
former husband. I think he led her on.

She made a good impression
in the witness box.

And on me, but she felt
you'd be bound to tell me.

- She felt that.
- So she told me first.

(AII chanting) We want the speech!

We want the speech!
We want the speech!

Well, if you insist.

(Cheering)

As the oldest member,
I can recall this place

before CH Wystan,

that Rumpole's revered father-in-law,
took over.

It was in old Barnaby Hawks' time.

The young men were myself,
Everett Longbarrow,

and old Willoughby Grime,

who became Chief Justice of Tonga,
where he went on circuit,

wearing a battered opera hat
and dispensed rough justice...

(AIl) Under a bong tree!

- Mrs Tempest got three years.
- Yes.

Her former husband got seven.

- I don't think she struck the match.
- I wasn't able to take the risk.

You haven't noticed a smell
of burning at the Royal Borough?

No, but by then the Lord Chancellor's
secretary told me of the appointment.

It doesn't do for a judge's wife
to have served three years.

- Do you have to be a judge?
- I thought about that.

You know, at my age, Rumpole,

it's difficult to learn a new trade.

(AIl) On grass with his leaded bugle!

(Uncle Tom) Yes!

Old Willoughby was terrified
he'd been spotted, you see,

because this was years before the...

George, drink up. There'll be other ladies
turning up at the Royal Borough.

I doubt it.

And every night I shall think,

"If only I hadn't taken her
to Rumpole's,

"I might never have know."
Don't you see?

We might have been happy.

Sometimes,
it will be difficult to forgive you.

What did I do? I didn't do anything.

You knew, Rumpole.
That's what you did.

You knew about it.

(Uncle Tom)
Trying to get an golf ball in...

(AIl) With a mashie niblick!

(Laughing)

That was as good a training
as any for the Bar.

Of course, old CH Wystan
never took silk.

Now we have a QC...

(AIl) MP.

(Uncle Tom) And Dear George Frobisher
is now a circus... I beg his pardon...

a circuit judge.

For he's a jolly good fellow

For he's a jolly good fellow

For he's a jolly good fellow

And so say all of us

They've never made
George Frobisher a judge!

Oh, in my view,
an excellent appointment.

I shall expect
a good record of acquittals

at Luton Crown Court.

- When will you be a judge?
- Don't ask silly questions, Hilda.

When sentencing, I'd have to say,

"There but for the Grace of God
goes Horace Rumpole."

I can imagine
what she must be feeling like.

- She?
- She.

- The cat that swallowed the cream.
- Oh.

Her Honour, Mrs Judge.

Oh, she'll be quite the thing.

- No. She's gone.
- Gone, Rumpole?

- Gone where?
- Just gone.

What did George
have to say about that?

"Cried and the world cried, too

"Mine's the treasure

"Suddenly, as rare things will,
it vanished."

If he wants my opinion,
George is well out of it.

- I don't think he does.
- What?

Want your opinion.

You know, I'm not sure
I should have taken up as a lawyer.

Whatever do you mean, Rumpole?

Perhaps I should have been a vicar.

Have you been getting at the gin,
Rumpole?

Faith, not facts.
Is that what we need?

George Frobisher has always been
a bad influence on you,

keeping you out drinking.
I'm glad he's going to be a judge.

Perhaps I will see more of you.

I'd never have known all these facts
about people if I hadn't been a lawyer.

Of course you should've been a lawyer.

Why?

Well, if you hadn't taken up as a lawyer
you never would have met me.

Oh, that's true.

Damn it, that's very true.

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