All language subtitles for Rumpole s02e02 dentity.eng

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(Shop bell rings)

What can I do for you?

(Screams)

(TV) 'Have you seen this man?

'Were you in Queensbury Road,
Walthamstow

'around 8:45pm
on Tuesday, March 4th?

'The police want to interview
a tall, well-built man

'who was wearing a tartan cap

'when the manager of an off-licence
was attacked.

'He was also wearing
red driving gloves.

'The tartan cap was similar... '

I'm off, Freddie.

One for the road?

No, not really.
It's Betty. She'll be waiting.

Eagerly?

- You give Freddie's love to her.
- Yeah, will do.

- What time are you on tomorrow?
- Day off.

- Ta-ra!
- Cheers. So long.

(Inaudible)

(Man) We'd like you
to form a line, please.

Just form a line.

(Inaudible)

Right, sir.

Thank you, gentlemen.
If you'd like to wait there.

Stay here, sir.
Thank you very much, everybody.

Just hold on a few seconds.

(Man) Would I wear my cap,
Mr Rumpole?

Not to cut up a geezer
in an off-licence.

That's like leaving my visiting card.

If I ever get you out of this hotel,

you might consider reading
for the Bar.

You have put your finger
on the bull point of the defence.

Why would anyone wear a comical cap,

when out on an errand
of malicious wounding?

- Unless...
- They wanted to be recognised.

Unless they wanted
someone to be recognised.

I'm not worried, Mr Rumpole.
I am in the clear.

Nobody in Brixton
is in the clear, old love.

Not until they hear
the magic words "not guilty".

(Laughs)

Your alibi depends on the evidence
of your governor.

Well, he's very good to me,
Mr Rumpole,

and the wife.

He loaned us the money
for our house deposit.

Yeah, a very generous-minded
individual.

"Freddie Allbright
will see you right" is his motto.

Biggest mini-cab owner in London.

You were with him all evening?

Yeah. He took me out for a curry.

How can he fix the date?

It was the evening
before his wife's birthday.

- He bought her a gift.
- What was it?

An evening bag. For his ladies' night
down at the Masons.

What time did this job
in the off-licence take place?

8:45.

Oh, well, 8:45 on 4th March,
I was with Freddie Allbright.

He was having tandoori chicken,
and showing me this evening bag.

My alibi is cast iron.

I'm not sure
if I like cast-iron alibis.

They sink the quickest
to the bottom of the sea.

Hmm.

"Was this the face
that launched a thousand ships?"

Or did the stabbing
in the Walthamstow off-licence?

I wonder.

Ah, Rumpole.
You're burning the midnight oil.

Claude, how would you describe me?

Describe you? Why...

Describe the Rumpole you saw
coming into Chambers this morning.

Short and fat.

You mean well filled out.
Generously proportioned.

No, I'd say fat.

Look, there's something going on
down the passageway.

How can you be sure it was me?

It had your muffler
and your dreadful hat on.

Exactly! That's it!
You recognised the hat!

Will you look at this?
It's a question of Chambers' security.

Yes, all right.

- Short and fat?
- Ssh!

Well, what about it? Guthrie's room.
Is he working late too?

(Whispers) No, he's not.
I knocked. Nobody answered.

You see, the door's locked.

(Whispers) He always locks it.

He's afraid someone
will read his All England Reports.

There's a light under the door.

My God, you're right.
Why are we whispering?

(Whispers) What? Ssh!

I heard a sound from inside.

Mice. These old places
are overrun with mice.

But it was more like giggling.

Even mice enjoy a joke occasionally.

Guthrie's just left his light on.
Have you been working too hard?

I have been snowed under recently.

That's it. Come on, and have a nightcap
at Pommeroys.

A man's got to be careful
when he hears mice giggling.

(Erskine-Brown) Could you spare me
a moment?

- Morning.
- Morning, Mr Rumpole.

How did it go at the Sessions?

I got three years.
Possession of cannabis.

- I bet the judge drank his whisky.
- I suppose he did.

- Still, you did your best.
- Oh, thank you.

- You were defending?
- As ever, yes.

- If you could type this for me.
- What's this?

"Whereas the plaintiffs,
the Gargantua Trust Company Limited,

"are landlords
of the said premises..."

You can read it.

"The defendant is in default
of the rent to the extent of �208.13.

"A notice to quit has been given."

- Whose side are we on?
- The side that sends us the work.

She got a notice to quit

for a measly �208.13

from Gargantua Trust Company Limited.

I don't imagine they're short of a bob.

You're not required
to judge the case.

That can be left to
the Bloomsbury and Marylebone Court.

I bet she's an elderly widow.

Yes, with 23 starving children.
Just type it out, Angela.

No cheques!

- Henry, is Mr Featherstone in yet?
- I'm expecting him.

Will you just get on?

Guthrie used to be in here at 9:30.

Now he descends on us at lunchtime.

Perhaps he's had
an all-night sitting.

(Guthrie) All-night sitting.
I don't know how long I will stand it.

(Erskine-Brown) Really? What great
affair of state were you discussing?

Some earth-shaking measure
for the protection of cod.

I want to raise the question
of security in Chambers.

- A light was left on in here.
- I must have forgotten.

I heard a sound from this room.

- How extraordinarily odd.
- Rumpole thought it was mice.

(Laughs) Really?

There's another matter
I wanted to raise.

(Groans) Oh... Another?

That new girl, Angela,
who does the typing...

Yes. Henry says that she's an asset.
I don't know anything about her.

Diane just couldn't cope
single-handed.

The girl objects to typing out
a landlord's statement of claim.

She only wants to type
on behalf of the tenant.

It adds horror to the Bar,

if cases are decided
in the typing pool.

I really don't see
how you can dignify these girls,

Diane and... Angela, was it?
...with a title of typing pool.

Henry tells me she's good.
Apparently, she's indispensable.

Well, it should be brought
to your attention,

as Head Of Chambers.

(Knock on door)

Come.

- Oh, thank you, Henry.
- Excuse me, Erskine-Brown.

(Guthrie groans)

I need to speak to you.

Oh, well, I'm extremely grateful
to you, Claude, really.

Perhaps form a sub-committee
to deal with the mice.

Right. Now, then, Henry.

It's that new girl, Angela.
She's getting on my wick.

Really, Henry? You surprise me.

Mr Erskine-Brown was just saying
she's been an enormous help.

She wants to turn the place
into a cooperative.

She thinks the girls should be
in on Chambers' fees.

Workers' participation, Henry.
It's bound to come.

They want the papers
in that new drugs case, sir.

You'll be prosecuting Mr Rumpole.

They want the advice
by tomorrow morning.

No. Not by tomorrow.
I have something on tonight.

Really, sir?
Another all-night sitting?

Yes, I'm afraid so.
It's a bloody awful Parliament!

"Workers' participation.
It's bound to come."

Not in this Chambers it bloody isn't!

(Phone rings)

What is this place?
The House of Commons?

8021.

The man was wearing a tartan cap,
scarlet and yellow.

God knows what it was.

Colours of the East Walthamstow
clan MacTavish.

It's my first big junior brief
for the prosecution and it's a winner.

Guthrie Featherstone
has completely mislaid his marbles.

I can't wait to show this to Rumpole.

I'm being led by soapy Joe Truscott.
He is extremely soapy.

How will Rumpole get out of this one?

- Out of which one, Portia?
- (Phyllida) Oh, Rumpole.

- The Dave Anstey case.
- Ah, yes.

Clear identification.

Three witnesses saw you
on the way to the off-licence.

Yes, I am bound
like the great Houdini.

Chained, padlocked into an iron chest

and sunk to the bottom of the sea.

I suppose with one leap
Houdini was free.

No. In this case,
he was probably never heard of again.

(Hollers) Peggy,
a bottle of cooking claret, please.

- Take a look at that.
- What?

Last night's debate in Parliament.

Look at the end.
I've marked it in red.

"After the defeat of the motion
to preserve the ancient grasslands,

"the house rose at 10:30."

Is that it? What staggering news!
Shall we flee the country?

Guthrie told me that last night...

Thank you.

...he was in an all-night sitting
on the Cod Fisheries Bill.

What's peculiar about that?

- It's a collapse of an alibi.
- Exactly.

Not at all.

My God! Portia of the prosecution,
suspicious of everyone.

It's not surprising that QC MPs
are forgetting what day it is.

They must be constantly
under the impression

that they're discussing cod.

Keep your mind on
the Walthamstow off-licence stabbing.

Do you know who owns it?

Who owns the off-licence?
I don't know. I could find out.

Do do that, Miss Trant.

It's more important than the life
of our Head Of Chambers.

(Tuts)

(Hilda hums)

She Who Must Be Obeyed.

(Mutters) Has she taken leave
of her senses?

Hilda, what are you doing?

- I'm practising my carols.
- Who put you up to that?

Marigold Featherstone
asked if I would be interested.

The Bar Choral Society take on wives.

A gaggle of barristers' wives
giving tongue?

How perfectly ghastly!

In praise of God.
It is going to be Christmas.

Sometimes I wonder
whether God enjoys Christmas.

Marigold Featherstone
is not a happy woman.

Who is these days?

It's Guthrie. Guthrie Featherstone.

If you ask me, that marriage is dying
for lack of attention.

You stand at choir practice when
you should be praising to the Lord,

gossiping about
the Featherstone marriage.

It is not gossip. I've told you
she is not a happy woman.

It's difficult being married
to a politician.

(Mutters) Or a part-time
mezzo contralto.

- What did you say?
- Just reading.

That marriage
is cracking up, Rumpole.

- Yes.
- It's your fault.

Yes... My fault!

Guthrie is out late.
I know he has his all-night sittings.

Even when he hasn't,

you keep him at Pommeroys wine bar
for hours, boozing.

- I do?
- Marigold asks him where he's been.

He says, "Old Rumpole was talking
in Pommeroys. I couldn't get away."

"Old Rumpole."
Is that what he calls me?

Did you do that tonight?

There wouldn't have been much point
coming back here.

Not with you hitting
the high notes with Marigold.

Eugh!

You want to be very careful, Rumpole.

Be careful that you don't break up
two marriages.

# O come all ye faithful

# Joyful and triumphant

# O come ye... #

(Mutters indistinctly)

Oh, thank God
they've got somewhere at last!

(Phyllida) Can you describe the man
who attacked you?

- He had a red cap.
- Yes. Apart from the red cap.

(Mutters) Yes. Come on, Portia.

He was tall. Big built.

(Mutters) Like about 20 million others.

- Did you say something, Mr Rumpole?
- No, My Lord.

What about his hair?

He had long sideburns.

A sort of brown colour,
what I could see of it.

(Whispers)

Thank you, Mr O'Neil.
Would you remain there?

Ahem.

My client has no sideburns at all.

No, he hasn't.

Mr Anstey, turn to the jury.

Mr Rumpole,
I'm sure you don't need reminding,

but we live in the age
of the electric razor.

(Rumpole) 'Oh, dear.
A judge who makes jokes.'

My Lord?

Sideburns can be shaved off,
if it's convenient to do so.

You said the man you saw
had a sort of brown colour.

What sort of brown?
Blackish brown? Ginger brown?

I didn't have time to notice.

- A matter of seconds?
- Yes.

So my client is on trial
for a few seconds.

It will be longer by the time
you've finished, Mr Rumpole.

If Your Lordship pleases.

The judge is giving Rumpole
a rough time.

We're on a winner.

I'm not so sure. A rough time is exactly
what Rumpole thrives on.

Mr Rumpole,
as you know perfectly well,

motive is irrelevant
at a criminal prosecution.

- (Man) How's it going, Mr Rumpole?
- Mr Rumpole, this is...

Freddie Allbright.
I'm Dave's governor.

"Allbright will see you right."
That's my motto.

Our alibi witness?

Certainly. Alibi ready and waiting,
anytime you need it.

We must look after young Dave,
and Mrs Anstey, of course.

I'm Dave's wife, Betty.

Lovely girl, Betty.
Exceptionally lovely girl.

- Nice to have met you.
- What are the chances?

(Rumpole) I can't talk to witnesses.
We'll call you on Monday.

I can't go in there, Mr Rumpole.

Not to have everyone staring at me.

- Don't upset yourself.
- Is Dave all right?

As well as can be expected.
He'd appreciate a visit.

- Oh, I dunno.
- I promised the young lady lunch.

We better go. We don't want a lawyer
nicking our table at the Savoy, do we?

(Rumpole) No, of course not.

- I got that information for you.
- What?

- The landlord of the off-licence.
- Ah!

It's a company called
Allbright Motors Limited.

Your client could have told you that.

Thank you, Miss Trant.
You've been the most tremendous help.

It's quite all right.

(Tuts)

Sorry.
I didn't know you were in today.

Could I borrow "Phipson on Evidence"?

That's pretty dull reading, isn't it,
for a gorgeous girl like you?

Rumpole is objecting to our putting in
a witness' statement.

Still down the Bailey?

Yes, thank God,
with some decent refreshers.

Oh. Pity.
We might have had lunch tomorrow.

Up in Soho.

The Trat.

I don't think so.
What would Marigold say?

I'm hardly under her eagle eye
at lunchtime.

You mean Erskine-Brown
might cut up rough.

- We are going out together, yes.
- Oh, really?

- Where does he take you out?
- To Covent Garden.

It's terribly expensive. That's why
I have to collect as many refreshers.

He never takes you dancing?

There's a new place opened up
in Covent Garden.

Fridays. Hamburgers and a disco.

Get Claude to take you
with all the BPs.

What on earth are they?

Beautiful people.
Like you, Miss Trant.

(Laughs) You know,
I love those old movies

where the girl librarian
takes her glasses off,

and James Stewart sees her

in an entirely new light.

- Well, thanks for the "Phipson".
- Oh, any time at all.

What is that perfume you're wearing?

Old books.

(Laughs) Old books!

(Rumpole) If an alibi comes unstuck,
everything comes unstuck.

Then, they may not believe
a single word you say.

(Dave)
Freddie ain't got no axe to grind.

Allbright Motors
owns the off-licence.

- Never!
- You didn't know that?

No, I didn't.
Does it make any difference?

I don't know.

Paddy picked you out
at the identity parade.

- Are you sure you've never seen him?
- Never!

Someone must have told him about you
and your remarkable head gear.

Do you trust Freddie Allbright?

You must be joking!

The things he's done for me...

a big bonus,
a canteen of cutlery.

- And a fur coat.
- A what?

I was wondering
where your wife got it from.

If we don't call the alibi evidence,
won't the prosecution comment?

- They've got Mr Allbright's statement.
- Let soapy Joe comment.

He'll be left with a weak case
of identification.

I want you to call the governor.
He's been like a father to me.

Think about it, and then I'll need
your written instructions.

What sort of coat exactly?

God knows, but several rare animals
gave up their lives for it.

Well, my Betty works.
She saved up for it.

You've got to call the governor.

Look, please. Think about it.

(Rumpole) Thank you.

La donna � mobile

Qual piuma al vento

Muta d'accento

E di pensiero...

- What a magnificent performance.
- Splendid.

Sempre un amabile

Leggiadro viso

In pianto o in riso

menzognero

- Tired?
- No, not really.

Why don't we dance?

- Whatever for?
- Well, we never do.

There's a new place opened here.
Fridays.

All the BPs go there.

- All the what?
- Beautiful people.

(Disco music)

(Phyllida) I just don't think
Guthrie's very well.

No?

No. He seems to think
he's James Stewart.

- James who?
- (Yells) Stewart!

Look.

- Angela!
- Who's she dancing with?

Apparently with herself.

No, she's not. She's with
that rather violent shirt.

Who is he? I can't see.
It's dark in here.

It's rather fun.

Ah, they're going.

(Phyllida)
Good heavens! It can't be.

- Phylli, this is appalling.
- It's Guthrie Featherstone.

Our Head Of Chambers
out dancing with the typing pool.

(Hums)

Oh! Excuse me. I'm on the way
to the Bailey.

- It's Marigold.
- Marigold?

Marigold Featherstone. Remember me?

Oh, of course, yes.
Guthrie's room is down the passage.

No, he's not in.
Whenever I ring up, he's not in.

- Perhaps I can give him a message.
- Do you handle divorce?

Ah, only rarely,
and then with a strong pair of tongs.

I want you to act for me,
if it should come to that.

If it should come to what,
Mrs... Marigold?

Divorce.
Guthrie's behaving extremely oddly.

He's never there...

That can be an advantage
in married life.

I am married to someone
who is always there.

- I must rush.
- I saw him with a girl.

I saw them from a top of a bus.
They were arm in arm,

looking into Peter Jones' window.
Soft furnishings.

When I tackled him, he denied it.

Now how can you be sure
it was Guthrie?

What could you see from the top
of a bus? The top of his head?

I'm sure it was Guthrie.
He had on his black jacket.

There you see, Mrs... Marigold.

That's just how easily mistakes
can be made.

He had a black jacket,
so you assumed it was Guthrie.

Anybody can wear that or a cap.
Do I make myself clear?

Not in the least.

In any case,
I'm a member of Guthrie's chambers.

I couldn't act for you.
It would be embarrassing.

If it comes to divorce,

I want it to be
as embarrassing as possible.

- Morning, Mr Rumpole.
- Good morning, Mrs Anstey.

- Usher.
- Yes, Mr Rumpole.

That young lady with the fur coat on.

Bring her in when I say.

Don't give her time to take it off.

- Morning.
- Morning.

- Good morning.
- Morning.

Morning...
What's Rumpole up to now?

Fighting desperately
to undo the knots, I should imagine.

(AIIbright) 8:45? Yeah, of course
I was with Dave at 8:45.

I took him out for a curry at 8:00.
We were together until 9:30.

(Rumpole) Can you fix the date?

- Absolutely. My wife's birthday.
- (Rumpole) And what date is that?

March 5th. Same every year.

I'd got her this evening bag.

I told Dave about it the next day.

- (Rumpole) The next day?
- When we went out for curry.

- (Judge) That would be March 6th.
- That's right.

I wanted to ask you about
the day before your wife's birthday.

- The evening of March 4th.
- March 4th?

I don't know what Dave was doing.
No. I tell a lie.

Oh, do you, Mr Allbright?

Was that Tuesday, March 4th?

- Yes.
- Dave had the night off.

He had the night off
before we met.

So you don't know what Mr Anstey
was doing on the night of the 4th?

No, My Lord.

Mr Rumpole,
you may like to remind the jury

that the stabbing
was on the night of the 4th.

(Whispers)
I'll leave that to you, old darling.

Collapse of stout alibi.

Mr Allbright...
Usher.

...did you not sign a statement
making it clear

that you were with my client
on the evening of March 4th?

I might have done, yeah.

My Lord, is my friend entitled
to cross-examine his own witness?

- If the witness is hostile, yes.
- He suggests he's hostile?

No. He's hostile to the truth!

(Judge) If there's an inconsistent
statement, he may be cross-examined.

If you think that's wise, Mr Rumpole.

I'm obliged, Your Lordship.

Mr Allbright,
is your company the landlord

of the off-licence premises
where Paddy was stabbed?

We own a lease
to the off-licence, yeah.

- So Paddy was working for you?
- He might have been.

Was he putting his hand in the till?

Did someone
have to teach him a lesson?

Someone?

Who are you suggesting it may be?

Someone in a cap,
like that usually worn by my client.

- Why would I do that?
- (Rumpole) Usher.

(Whispers) Bring that woman in.

Mr Allbright, are you friendly
with my client's wife, Betty?

(AIIbright) I'm like a father
to both of them.

(Rumpole) While Mr Anstey has been
in custody, have you been seeing Betty?

I've taken her out of herself.

Does taking her out of herself

include putting her
into an expensive fur coat?

The one she's wearing now?

I might have lent her
a couple of bob.

Yes. Thank you, Mrs Anstey.

Mr Allbright,
has it always been your intention

to have my client convicted?

Not necessarily, no.
I wanted to help Dave.

Is that why you went back
on your statement?

Or were you trying to tell the truth?

I put March 4th
because Dave asked me to.

- (Rumpole) He asked you?
- I'm sorry I can't help you.

I'm sorry I can't help you,
Allbright, in your efforts

to have your mistress's husband
put inside for years!

Mr Rumpole, is there any basis
for that suggestion?

My learned friend
could call the lady to rebut it.

She is outside the court.

You sent your hireling
in a thoroughly recognisable cap

to teach Paddy a lesson!

Paddy then identified Dave Anstey
as the man wearing it.

When your client was picked out
at the identification parade,

he wasn't wearing a cap.

My Lord, it was no longer necessary.

Perhaps you can tell us why.

Who put the frighteners on Paddy
to persuade him

to identify Dave Anstey
as the man who had stabbed him?

Or didn't he know who you wanted
fitted up with your caper?

"Fitted up" makes it sound
like a cupboard.

Then shall I say framed, Allbright?

That sounds like a picture.

In this case,
the wrong picture entirely.

- So, with one leap Houdini was free.
- Right. Not guilty. Majority verdict.

Out four hours.
It was a damn close-run thing.

(Laughs) Freddie Allbright
didn't look too happy.

It was a smashing cross-examination.

You should have him
deal with a hostile witness.

It's high time justice
was done to you.

Justice?

You should have been
Head Of Chambers years ago.

As senior man, it was yours.
Everybody said so at the time.

I don't remember any overt support
from you then, Erskine-Brown.

Well, Guthrie Featherstone MP arrived
in all his glory, and he took silk...

Betwixt the election and my hopes.

It was a shame.

We didn't know the truth
about Guthrie Featherstone then.

He's having it off with that
female communist in the typing pool.

Young Angela? You astonish me.

We simply must have
a reliable Head Of Chambers.

Not someone who's involved
in an unsavoury scandal.

What would a savoury scandal be?

- Fried on toast with an anchovy.
- Oh, Rumpole, really!

Seats?

Everyone's noticed things
about Guthrie.

What do you mean, things?

There's definite signs of unreliability.

The point is
we ask Guthrie to resign,

and make way for you.

I do think you'd make a super head.

Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP
is not an experienced

Labour-Conservative member
for nothing.

He hogs the middle of the road
in case someone tries to pass him.

Maybe he's not the resigning kind.

Then, we simply move
to a chambers in Lincoln's Inn.

- I've sounded out Henry...
- Have you had any time for work?

- Horace, nobody's...
- (Phyllida) Ssh!

Nobody will work with a head

who is having it off with a revolutionary
from the typing pool.

(Phyllida) Ahem!

See you tomorrow. OK. Bye.

Do you see?

I would like to know
what evidence you have

for making
these extraordinary allegations.

Claude and I saw Guthrie
dancing in Fridays with Angela.

Guthrie was wearing a multi-coloured
shirt with tigers on it.

(Laughs)
Then it couldn't have been Guthrie.

- Horace, it was.
- It was.

- Mistaken identity.
- I saw him with my own eyes.

Ah, well,
as Miss Trant learnt in court,

the evidence of one's own eyes
can be extremely misleading.

Guthrie Featherstone simply
does not wear multi-coloured shirts

with or without tigers.

Tigers! Ha ha!

(Knock on door)

"What immortal hand or eye

"could frame thy fearful symmetry?"

(Growls)

Oh...
Henry said you wanted to see me.

(Coughs)

- Don't you want to see me?
- No. Not particularly.

- You're in need of a little help.
- I'm all right.

Are you?

They're closing in, old darling.

Your wife consulted me
to start a divorce.

- You?
- Mmm-hm.

Why did she consult you for?

No doubt to cause the maximum havoc.

Erskine-Brown alleges
that he saw you...

...jitterbugging.

With Angela?

Lord Erskine-Brown suspects you
of having a Red in the bed.

It's true.
It's all perfectly true, Rumpole!

You plead guilty?

Well, as a matter of fact,
it's all terribly innocent.

Jumping around in Fridays until
2:00am and back to her narrow bed.

Then off to breakfast
in the House of Commons.

- That's the worst part.
- What?

Breakfast in the House of Commons.

You aren't cut out
for that existence.

No.
The physical strain is exhausting.

It must come as a shock
to someone used to debates and golf.

Golf?

It happened when I was playing golf
with Mr Justice Vosper.

- Do you know him?
- Only in court. Never on the green.

He was talking
about the death penalty.

Nostalgia, I assume.

I sliced my ball into the rough.

I went behind
this low patch of scrub.

And... there was this boy and girl
making love.

Not undressed, you understand.

Just kissing, laughing.

I realised that there was
an entire world that I totally missed.

- I told the judge I was taken ill.
- Well, you were.

I spent the rest of the afternoon
in Richmond in search of adventure.

You drew a blank.

Next morning, I walked into Chambers,
and there was Angela.

She's only 21, Rumpole.
Can you imagine it?

With difficulty.

What is that military uniform she affects?

Oh! An American combat shirt.

It's a joke to show
her pacifist convictions.

Oh, highly amusing.

You set out to deliberately destroy
your position in Chambers?

Deliberately?

Well, locking yourself
in this room the other night. Why?

Oh.

Well, er... we couldn't go back
to Oakley Street.

Her flatmate was entertaining
a chap from the BBC.

Barristers' chambers
have been put to many uses,

but only rarely as a setting
for a French farce.

You were very determined,
weren't you?

Telling Marigold a pack of lies,
carefully informing Miss Trant,

and, therefore, Erskine-Brown

of that Palais de Hop
where you're to be found

tripping the light fantastic.

Keeping your dancing apparel
in Chambers.

Oh, yes, that's a...

That's a birthday present
from Angela.

I couldn't take it back to Marigold.

What are you going to do with it?
Send Henry to the launderette?

Hmm. I don't know, Rumpole.
What do you suggest?

Give it to a steel band.

Look, old darling, you can't do it.

- Do what exactly?
- Escape.

You came to us as the ready-made
figure of respectability, QC MP.

Pipped me at the post
for Head Of Chambers,

and remarkably gratified to get it.

What will you do now?

Abandon us all like ageing wives?

Leave us to rot on bingo,

while you prance off to Oakley Street

in a multi-coloured, wildlife blouse?

You can't do it. It's impossible.

Why can't I?

Because things were arranged
differently for you.

It's mapped out for you,
from the cradle to the grave.

The tramlines are leading
to a solicitor general

in the next middle-of-the-road
Conservative-Labour government,

to the High Court Bench, to the death
of Sir Guthrie Featherstone,

the judge of courteous severity.

- Flags at half mast.
- I don't have to do all that!

Really? What's the alternative?

Hanging around street corners,

waiting for the BBC man
to go back on night duty?

Scratching a living,

scribbling advice from a barrister
in the Sunday papers? Oh, come off it!

That's not our Guthrie Featherstone.

- You're jealous.
- What?

Just because you're tied
by the Income Tax and the VAT men,

and She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Oh, really, Guthrie?

Sorry. It's what you call her.

That, sir, is a husband's privilege.

Why did you say I'm jealous?

Do you want to be
the only anarchist in Chambers?

(Rumpole) 'Was there a truth
in what he said?

'Had Guthrie put his finger
on the Achilles heel of Rumpole?

'Did I need a flawless Featherstone

'to feel a free roving spirit?

'No.'

No, I don't need to indulge in your sort
of adventures to feel a free soul.

I can be bounded in the temple,

yet count myself
a king of infinite space.

We've got a case next week.
The importation of cannabis.

- You are prosecuting.
- Yes.

Unless, of course,
you've gone dancing.

In this case, I appear
with my learned friend,

Mr William James,
to prosecute.

The defence is represented by
my learned friend, Mr Horace Rumpole.

Members of the Jury,
this case concerns

the importation
of a dangerous drug...

- Ah, Angela.
- Henry said you wanted me at court.

I have to listen to
this nonsense for a bit. Sit down.

You may have heard it said
by those who attack the law,

and those who are concerned
with safeguarding our society,

that these cases are merely brought
because of the generation gap.

The gulf that is supposed to exist

between the young
and the not so young.

I must point out that cannabis,
whatever you may have heard,

is a dangerous drug
prohibited by Parliament.

It may be very fashionable
for the young to say

that it does you no more harm
than a whisky and soda

or that smoking it makes you
a better, purer soul

than squares like us,
members of the Jury.

We simple boring souls

who are worried about our mortgages
and our children's education,

and may prefer an honest pint,

or in the case
of the ladies on the jury,

a small gin and tonic.

The defence...

The defence will...
Er, I beg your pardon.

The defendant will say
that it was his mission

to turn us all on,

as if we were electric lights.

We are not electric lights,
members of the Jury,

to be turned on and off.

Oh, forgive me.

(Chattering)

- Angela's not here.
- Angela? Ah, no.

Henry tells me Angela has left.

A matter of conscience, I believe.

Ah, Mrs Feather... er... Mar...

Excuse me.

Marigold, I have an apology
to make to you.

Mr Rumpole?

Keeping your husband out all hours
boozing at Pommeroys.

I have put a complete stop to it.

So I've noticed, and the all-night
sittings seemed to have dropped off.

- Really?
- I get Guthrie for dinner now!

- How delicious!
- Here I am, Rumpole.

Ah, there you are.

- You know Mari... Of course you do!
- We sing together.

He's coming to the carol service,
aren't you?

Oh, do come! We make a brave stab
at "O Come All Ye Faithful".

Do you? How sporting of you.

I hate to miss it, but the pressure
of working at Chambers...

You are coming to the carol service...
Oh, thank you.

- (Mutters) She Who Must Be Obeyed.
- I'm sorry?

Oh, it's a must, I'm afraid...
There you are, Diane. Thank you.

- Quiet, please.
- Yes, silence in court!

- It's not a speech.
- Good.

I wanted to welcome you all,
members and wives,

and those who are girlfriends
and members also,

to our annual Christmas do.

- We've had a good year.
- That's why he's got a new suit on!

(Laughs)

We've managed somehow to
stick together throughout the year.

Except for somebody peeling off
in the typing pool.

I just wanted to say...

"That he that hath no stomach
to this fight..."

- Did you want to say something?
- "Let him depart.

"His passport shall be made,
and crowns for convoy..."

- What is he talking about?
- It's Shakespeare.

He does it all the time at home.
I wish he wouldn't do it when we're out.

It's so dreadfully embarrassing.

"...Plead with us."

When people talk
of a split in Chambers

or the possibility of any other

than our distinguished
Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP

as Head Of Chambers, they are making
a grave error, a mistake.

Like those mistakes in identity

that may cause
such grave injustices in our court.

Guthrie Featherstone, QC MP
is a man

fashioned by nature
to be Head Of Chambers.

He couldn't be anything else.

We, Old Bailey hacks,

the common soldiers at the Bar,

shall attack a new year
under his leadership, crying,

"God for Guthrie, Henry and Diane!"

Happy Christmas!

(AIl) Happy Christmas!

Sorry, old darling,
you're lumbered with it.

O come all ye faithful

Joyful and triumphant

O come ye, o come ye

To Bethlehem

Come and behold Him

Born the King of Angels

O come
let us adore Him

O come let us adore Him

O come
let us adore Him

Christ the Lord

God of God

Light of Light

Lo he abhors not

The Virgin's womb

Very God

Begotten not created

O come
let us adore Him

O come let us adore Him

O come
let us adore Him

Christ the Lord

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