All language subtitles for Rumpole s02e04 Beast.eng

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(Crowd chants) Fascists out!
Fascists out!

Our black friends,
brown, yellow, delicately tinted,

we want them to be wholly at home,

their home, ladies and gentlemen,
not ours!

We want the piccaninny to be happy...
under the skies of Africa.

We want the Indian to have
equal opportunity... in Delhi and Calcutta.

And we want
the native-born Englishman,

to walk the streets
of Acton, Brixton and Lewisham,

without fear of assault
from armed bands of black brigands!

(Crowd) Fascists out!
(Speaker) An old lady in Lewisham,

one old lady,
the widow of an army officer,

who has not dared step through
her front door for ten years!

For ten years that little old lady has
not dared to step onto the pavement

of her native borough of Lewisham,
for fear of being mugged

by bands of black youths
and having her pension book stolen!

I see the police watching me,
the lackeys of a government

that sucks up to the Saudis
and crawls to Kaunda!

- What are the police doing?
- Communist layabouts!

(Indistinct shouting)

(Speaker) I say this to you,
my friends...

the answer is... blood!

(Police whistle)

(Rumpole) Good God!

(Door shuts)

- (Hilda hollers) Rumpole, it's good news!
- This is where I came in.

- I've got a tin of Mulligatawny soup.
- Oh, congratulations.

I've seen all this before.
Fascist marches in London!

It'll be gasmasks next, call up!

The RAF Ground Staff!

And I managed to find
some frozen beef burgers!

Powdered egg. Whale steaks!

(Hilda) What was that?

JB Priestley on the wireless,

songs by Dame Vera Lynn.

I had to go all the way
down to the tube station.

I don't think I could stand that whole
damn programme round again.

There we are.

Thank you. Hardly a white face
to be seen by the tube station.

Were you looking for one?
I thought you were after soup.

My Great Aunt Fran would turn in her
grave if she could see London now.

Ah, your Great Aunt Fran.
Now, if I recall,

she was married
to your Great Uncle Percy Wystan,

late Deputy Controller
of the Punjabi Railways.

That's exactly what I mean.

She spent her life running up curries
and kedgerees,

supervising the punkawallah,
organising tea parties on elephants.

Your Great Aunt Fran would have been
totally at home round our tube station.

You didn't get the supper

at Chatterjee's General Store
by any chance, did you?

Well, everywhere else was shut.

You don't grudge old Chatterjee
a little hospitality, do you?

I mean, in return for putting up with your
Great Aunt Fran for 200 years?

I suppose you will be going
to Chambers tomorrow, won't you?

Yes, 9:30 on the dot. Got to see
a young fellow about pupillage.

Oh, you're going to have a pupil?
That's nice.

- What's nice about it?
- Well, you were Daddy's pupil.

Oh, yes... about a million years ago.

Why not ask your pupil to dinner?
He'd appreciate that.

He might be allergic
to tinned Mulligatawny soup.

Really, Rumpole!

If you bring him to dinner, I shall lay
on a nice roast, with all the trimmings.

Oh, splendid!

Planning application in Bournemouth
on the 3rd? I'll just check the diary.

Yes, I'll keep Mr Featherstone free
from his Parliamentary engagements.

We'll grab a sandwich in Pommeroys,
Phylli, the opera's at 7:00.

Yes, right.

I was thinking in terms of a thousand.

- Is this Mr Rumpole's Chambers?
- Yes. Did you want him?

- Yes.
- Henry, someone for you.

My name is Khan, Mr Latif Khan.
Mr Rumpole is expecting me.

Yes. Mr Rumpole's busy
with a conference.

Mr Rumpole told me to be here at 9:30
on the dot, no matter what happened.

I'm here for pupillage.

(Sudden silence)

�700? All right, I'll meet you, then.
Thank you, Mr Argent. Ta, very much.

This is thrilling to actually be
in the chambers of Horace Rumpole,

the legend of the Criminal Bar
of England.

And you, of course, sir,

I will have a lot to learn from
a person of your age and seniority.

I expect to pick up hundreds
of red-hot tips, from the lot of you!

- (Henry) Mr Rumpole, there's a Mr... er...
- Khan.

...Khan to see you, sir.
- We'll do our best to help.

Thank you.
You're on the secretarial side?

- Er, no... I...
- Miss Trant is a very rising barrister.

The great fraternity of the Bar.

Truly it embraces all sorts
and conditions of men. And women.

Come this way, will you Mr Khan?

Thank you.

I don't see as well as I used to,
and it gets dark these mornings,

but wasn't that fellow
some sort of babu?

- Yes, Indian I'd say, Uncle Tom.
- I suppose he'll pick our brains here

and then become Prime Minister
of somewhere. Do nicely out of it too.

What on earth does Rumpole
think he's up to?

My Great Uncle Jarvis had that fellow
Gandhi in his chambers as a pupil.

He wore a bowler hat in those days,
not a loin cloth.

I mean, Gandhi didn't wear a loin cloth,
not my Uncle Jarvis, of course.

Your Uncle Jarvis did wear one
then, did he?

Ha ha, Erskine-Brown, very funny!

What did you mean,
"what's Rumpole up to"?

Taking a pupil without going
through the pupillage committee.

You mean taking that pupil, don't you?

For all I know, whatever his name is,
Khan, may be perfectly sound, but...

- But? "But?"
- All I mean is...

I know perfectly well what you mean!

- Don't forget the Ballo in Maschera.
- (Phyllida) Stuff the Ballo in Maschera!

(Door slams)

- (Knock on door)
- Enter.

Mr Rumpole, Mr Khan.

Khan, my dear chap! You come
warmly recommended from the Inn.

An apt pupil, they say.
Ready for work?

As soon as you say so.
I am mustard keen.

That's the ticket!

Well now, this is our client, Mr...

sorry, Captain, Captain Rex Parkin

and our instructing solicitor,
young Simmonds.

- How do you do?
- This is my new pupil.

Latif Khan, at your service.

Why don't you sit down over there,
dear boy? Learn to take notes.

I never have.

I would like to stress, Mr Rumpole,
this is a confidential matter.

Oh, don't mind Khan. It's the only thing
to do with pupils,

chuck 'em in the deep end.

You know we've got here,
Khan, a rather nasty charge,

under the Race Relations Act.

Now then, let's see what we know
about our client.

Captain, ex-Army Pay Corps.
You served overseas?

I served my country as best I could,
given my medical condition.

Ah, yes, flat feet. Mmm... Don't worry.
I was in the RAF Ground Staff.

We both avoided the temptations
of heroism!

After demobilisation, worked selling
the "Worldwide Encyclopaedia".

Married 25 years to Mavis Parkin.

Owns his own bungalow "Mandalay",
Durbar Lane, Bexleyheath.

Since 1958 has worked as a clerk
in the South-East Area Gas Board.

Captain Parkin wishes it to be known
he's absolutely sincere.

Unfortunately that is not a defence
in law.

I've known quite a number
of very genuine robbers.

They sincerely wanted to be rich.

Looking at these depositions,
they've got very little against you.

Some extremely ill-chosen words.
Could be ambiguous.

- "The answer is blood."
- (Parkin) On the question of sentence?

Sorry! You want to know
what you might be in for.

- The maximum, if you please, sir.
- Two years imprisonment or a fine,

or both. Section 5B of the 1976 act.

"And still they gazed
And still the wonder grew

"That one small head
Could carry all he knew."

You see what a wonderful advantage
it is to have a pupil?

- Well, now you know the worst.
- I want you to ask for it.

- For what?
- To ask for the maximum penalty.

Oh, Captain Perkins, listen to me
for a minute, old darling...

Er, Captain Parkin.

Regard me as your professional adviser,
someone who cares for your health.

If I were treating you for a nasty go
of flu, I couldn't let you

dance naked in an East wind
on a wet lawn at midnight, could I?

I intend, in the trial, sir,
to behave as Gandhi did

before the District Magistrate
in Ahmedabad.

I intend to argue
for the maximum sentence.

Excuse me, Captain, but wasn't
the Mahatma of foreign extraction?

One can learn at times, sir,
from the enemy.

Mr Gandhi asked
for life imprisonment.

It was the best way he could serve
his cause, as a martyr.

I suppose I've got a cause too,
in a way. I defend people.

I don't think I could ask a judge
to send a client of mine to prison.

That'd be against my religion.

Then, sir. I am wasting your time.
I shall conduct my own case.

- I presume I am entitled to do that?
- (Simmonds) Captain Parkin!

He's a fool
if he won't take your advice.

It's a free country, for the moment.
It's entirely his own decision.

Our penal system is open to all,
regardless of creed or colour.

Now, Khan...

You're not to do it, Rex!

It's the only way I can serve the cause.

The cause doesn't want you in jail.
It needs you for the election.

We've got you a good criminal man.

Mr Rumpole appeared to have
no sympathy with our beliefs.

- And he has an immigrant assistant.
- Very cunning, that.

Show the jury we're not racialist.

- We all want you to fight this case.
- You want him to fight, Mavis?

Fight the case? That's up
to the captain. Coffee, everyone?

Please.

If you'll excuse me...

The Leader has let it be known,
privately,

he wants this case fought all the way.

So that it has the force of an order?

You can put it like that, Rex.

I shall do my best
to carry out the Leader's orders.

It's not exactly an order, Rex.
It's more a strong indication.

You may rest assured
I shall carry out orders, to the letter.

(Man) A fine old English gentleman.

Oh, yes, one of the old school,
our Captain Parkin.

- Not quite with it?
- He's not up to the needs of the times.

Not up to the position of Chairman
of the South-East Area Party?

He's got a lot of support, all the same,
with the rank and file. Among the thicks.

I can see him losing that, if he manages
to wriggle out of this one

helped by some clever-dick
Liberal lawyer.

(Door opens)

- (Mavis) Has the captain gone?
- He's out.

I believe he is inspecting his grounds.

- (Mavis) Do you both take sugar?
- No, thanks, I'm sweet enough.

(Birdsong)

(Henry) Can I leave you to tidy up?
(Diane) Yes, certainly.

Miss Trant, your indecent assault's
at Knightsbridge tomorrow.

Thanks. I'll read the brief tonight.

- No, you won't, Phylli.
- Won't I?

- Well, tonight's the opera.
- I told you!

But it's Pavarotti
and we're in the Grand Circle!

Darling, the seats cost me more than
you'd get for two indecent assaults.

Be sensible. You can read
the brief in the morning.

No, thanks. I believe in preparation.

- Goodnight.
- (Henry) Goodnight.

You don't need preparation,
not for an indecent assault.

I put up with almost everything
about you.

I don't mind you driving
at 20 miles an hour

with your hat and seat belt on.

I can take descriptions
of your triumphs...

- Excuse me! Goodnight.
- Goodnight. See you tomorrow.

...of your triumphs
in a hire-purchase case over dinner.

I can live through a whole weekend
in Guildford with your mother.

I'm even prepared to accept your
blind and unquestioning devotion

to Mrs Thatcher,
but one thing I will not put up with!

- Oh, yes, and what's that?
- Racial prejudice.

- Good heavens! But...
- I'm now going home!

(Door slams)

Rumpole. I'm prosecuting you
in this Race Relations case.

- Phyllida Trant's my junior.
- Sounds a formidable combination.

I wonder if we could have
a word in private?

I have no secrets
from my learned pupil.

All the same, if you'll permit,
I'll take this for typing.

All right, old lad.

Thank you.

I was talking to old Keith from the Lord
Chancellor's office the other day and...

- Oh! May I?
- Mmm.

He was saying he was rather surprised
that you of all people

were defending
this wretched Fascist beast.

I defend murderers. It doesn't mean
to say I approve of murder.

No, but...

...politically...

I was thinking.

The time may come, Rumpole,
when you may wish

to subside gently onto the Circuit Bench.

Rumpole a Circus Judge? Ha ha ha!

It's not the sort of job the Lord
Chancellor's office hands out to chaps

who stand up for Fascists.

Oh, really?

I'm afraid so, Rumpole.

I mean, I don't know
what your pension scheme is.

You're not getting any younger,
you know!

My pension scheme
is about as non-existent

as your friend old Keith's knowledge
of Monsieur Arouet.

- Voltaire!
- Right. Do you remember what he said?

"I disagree with everything you say

"but will defend to the death
your right to say it."

(Guthrie) Hmm...

Perhaps you might read that to the jury
when you open the little matter

of the Queen
versus Captain Rex Parkin.

Well, there's this king, and his best
friend falls in love with his wife.

- Oh, yes?
- And the friend joins a band

of conspirators and kills the king
at a masked ball,

Un Ballo in Maschera,

- That's the last act.
- It sounds terribly sexy.

Yes, I suppose it is, really. It certainly
has Verdi's finest love duet.

- You'd enjoy it.
- I'm sure I would.

Good, excellent. Well, it starts at
seven o'clock. They're first-class seats.

- �20 each in the Grand Circle.
- I'm sorry, Mr Erskine-Brown.

I can't go with you. My boyfriend's
taking me for a Chinese.

- Really?
- Mmm.

- You don't look Chinese to me at all.
- I'm sorry, what was that?

Oh, nothing much, just my little joke.

Ah, Diane. I know it's late but here's
a short advice from Mr Rumpole.

It needs urgent typing.

Khan!

You're not... you're not an opera
buff by any chance, are you?

Excuse me?

I was wondering how much you cared
about music, opera and singing?

I once saw Lucia di Lammermoor
in Lahore, a British Council tour.

That poor lady going off her rocker.
I found it charming.

Good! Come with me tonight.
I've a couple of tickets.

I'm afraid I cannot.
Tonight I have a social engagement.

(Guthrie) Has Henry gone?
(Diane) Yes.

- I say, Featherstone!
- Yes, what is it?

I wonder if you'd like to make up
a small party at Covent Garden?

- Some time I'm sure.
- I was thinking about tonight perhaps?

- Well, what sort of a party?
- You and me. I have two tickets.

I'm sorry, I've got some terrible do on
in the constituency.

- But ask us again. What was it?
- Un Ballo in Maschera.

That'd be a treat.
Marigold's keen on ballet.

- Goodnight, Diane.
- Goodnight, Mr Featherstone.

(Door closes)

Ballet!

Mother!

(Rumpole) Ha ha ha!
Ah, yes, that was old Judge Darcy.

Ah, there we are! Judge Darcy
was a most exquisite judge.

He always used to adjourn at 11:30

for a glass of dry sherry
and a nibble of biscuit.

There we are.

Well, these er... these two chaps
had been caught

misbehaving themselves
under Waterloo Bridge,

and when he was sentencing them
the exquisite Judge Darcy said...

(Pompous voice) "You two men
have done a disgusting and horrible act,

"but what is worse, you chose to do it

"under one of the most beautiful bridges
in London!" Ha ha ha!

Rumpole!

Oh, I didn't realise! Can you eat beef?

Of course he can!
What do you think?

You think it's a reincarnation
of his grandmother?

It's perfectly all right, old boy.
Got it at Sainsbury's.

Roast beef of old England. Fine.
Suits me down to the ground.

Good... Oh, come on, if you're going
to undertake a career at the Bar,

you must try the delights
of Chateau Fleet Street.

- Well then, just a snifter,
- All right

- That's fine.
- There. Hilda.

Thank you.

Oh, Hilda, really! What are you doing?
You're turning this room into a hothouse.

Don't you find it very cold in England,
Mr Khan?

No, I assure you, it is much colder
in the Punjab in the winter.

Punjab, isn't that... Wasn't your
Aunt Fran in the Punjab, Hilda?

Oh, that was in the old days, you know,
the British Raj.

(Rumpole) Ah, yes, all gone now, eh?

Much to the regret
of our client Captain Rex Parkin.

"Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!"

My uncle was District Railway Officer,
Percy Wystan.

I don't know whether
you ever met him?

Well, rather before my time,
I'm afraid, Mrs Rumpole.

But we had some sensible fellows
in the government then.

- Not these silly asses of today.
- Oh! Do you really think so?

At least they're your own silly asses.
Isn't that the point?

Yes, but they make us blush sometimes.

Well, here's to your future at the Bar.

How can I go wrong with such
a distinguished teacher as Mr Rumpole?

Ah, no mister, just Rumpole, old darling.
An old legal tradition.

- You think he's a distinguished teacher?
- Gosh, yes, Mrs Rumpole!

Your husband's bound to end up on the
bench, at least at Circuit Judge level.

- Oh, Rumpole! Do you hear that?
- Circus Judge? Never in a million years.

- I've been thinking, Mr...
- (Rumpole) Ah!

...thinking, Rumpole, if you would take
a bit of prosecution work,

that seems the path
to the bench now.

(Hilda) Mr Khan, that is exactly
what I'm always telling him.

I don't like people being locked up
with their own chamber pots,

not for years on end, anyway.

I wouldn't like to cross-examine
them into it

or sentence them to it either.

Well, someone has to do it, Rumpole.

- That's what I always say!
- Somebody's got to clean the sewers.

As long as it's not me.

Mrs Rumpole, I don't entirely
agree with my learned pupil-master.

There are two dreadful Pakistani
students in my digs

and I can swear they stole
my transistor radio.

- I'd send them inside double quick.
- Mr Khan...

Oh, dear, I've forgotten
the horseradish sauce. Silly me!

Wait there a minute.

All right, Hilda, we're not going
anywhere.

Well, Khan, old lad...

...your future at the Bar
will hold no further terrors for you.

- What do you mean?
- The Lord Chief, Courts of Appeal,

the House of Lords,
the Uxbridge Magistrate,

they'll be child's play for you,
like shooting fish in a barrel,

now that you've dealt in so masterly
a fashion with the Ayatollah!

- With who?
- She Who Must Be Obeyed.

My wife.

(Rumpole chuckles)

I honestly think Mrs Rumpole
has a point.

- (Rumpole) Oh?
- You should think in terms of judgeship.

Be a judge? Never in a million years.
Drink up.

(Knocks on door)

(Guthrie) Judge.

(Phyllida) Morning, Judge.

You are an OB, Rumpole?

(Rumpole) 'Is Judge Jimmy Jamieson
being insulting? '

- You were at Birkenshaw, weren't you?
- Birkenshaw, my old school, yes.

(Rumpole) 'A wind-blasted penal colony
on the Norfolk coast

'where 13-year-olds fought for
the radiators and the lumpy porridge.'

Haven't seen you at any of the old
Birkensavian dinners recently.

Er... no.

They put on a good show for us
at the Connaught Rooms.

I'm sorry, Judge, I have never been
to an old Birkensavian dinner.

Some memories are too painful
to be reawoken.

- This case going to last long?
- Three or four days at most.

(Judge grunts)

(Rumpole) 'Now I remember.

'A small pale trembling child
from Scotland with a chest protector.'

(Mutters) Incredibly mean with his tuck.

- You agree, Rumpole?
- Yes, I quite agree, Judge.

Just wanted to get the timing
from you fellows.

Hoping to get in a week's fishing,
starting Monday.

(Laughter)

- Remember our last case, Rumpole?
- The Paddington affray?

A crowd of piccaninnies scrapping
with knives on Paddington Station.

The only real worry was a passing white
might have got hurt.

(Rumpole) 'Oh, dear!
Oh, my ears and whiskers! '

We can't hope for a trial
in the spirit of Voltaire.

(Guthrie) Mmm.

(Rumpole) Now, Sergeant, this broken
window in the grocery store.

(Sergeant) Yes, sir?
(Rumpole) You've no way of knowing

whether the perpetrator of that act
had heard my client's oration, have you?

- (Sergeant) No, sir.
- Anybody could've broken the window?

(Sergeant) Yes.

- A destructive schoolboy, for example.
- (Sergeant) Perhaps.

Let us hope he was not
an old Birkensavian, Mr Rumpole?

If Your Lordship pleases.

Now, you say my client
said something about... blood?

"The answer is blood."
But I couldn't hear all that clearly, sir.

- My Lord, there was a scuffle...
- Yes, exactly.

And the rival factions were yelling
their heads off, were they not?

- (Sergeant) Yes, sir.
- Yes. So, he might have said,

"The answer is in the blood."

Well, really! If my learned friend thinks
there's any difference...

Let me speak, my learned friend.
If he said "The answer is blood,"

it could have been
an incitement to violence.

Oh! I'm glad my learned friend

appreciates the point
of the prosecution's case.

But if he said,
"The answer is in the blood,"

then he was merely referring
to some supposed difference

in racial characteristic,
and the remark was quite innocuous.

There is a clear distinction,
is there not, Mr Featherstone?

If Your Lordship pleases.

I'm delighted that my friend has at last
grasped the nature of the defence.

- Hello.
- Oh, hello.

I just thought I'd make sure you're
getting on all right in Chambers.

- Perfectly well, thank you.
- When I came to Chambers, they said

they had no lavatory accommodation.
I suppose they tried to fob you off too.

Pardon me?

Telling you they hadn't got a key
to the loo.

No indeed, Miss Trant, I had no
trouble at all getting into the loo.

We're the same, aren't we?

I mean, we have the same problems.
I do understand.

Would you think it an awful cheek if
I asked you what you're talking about?

Oh dear, yes. I'm saying all this
so terribly badly.

What I mean is, I want us
to be friends and sort of allies.

I'm not in a position, Miss Trant,
to form any sort of alliance.

My father's gone to considerable
expense to send me here, to equip me

for the noble profession of the Bar,
on condition that I form no alliances.

If you'll excuse me,
I must get back to my pupil-master.

- Got a Flagpole in his garden?
- Straight up, Mr Rumpole.

The Union Jack flies over his bungalow.

And he lowers it at sunset?
Good Lord!

- Keeps pigeons, you say?
- That sort of stuff any use to you?

Extremely useful.

Well, my learned pupil,
back to the battlefield.

Thank you.

Free speech is like a football field.

You can say whatever you like,

provided that you stick to the rules.

But if you go offside,

then the law is perfectly entitled
to blow the whistle

and to show you the yellow card!

And that is simply
what has happened here.

Instead of sensible political discussion,
the accused man, Parkin,

has indulged in violent
and dangerous abuse.

He has brought the game into disrepute.

He has committed a foul.

And, on behalf of the Crown,
I ask you to find him guilty.

Mr Rumpole.

Ladies and gentlemen, if I could bring
you back from Wembley for a moment?

(Laughter)

I would like to introduce you to...
a dreamer.

He doesn't dream of women
or money.

He dreams of the ancient days
of the British Raj. Captain Rex Parkin.

It's true, he is an ex-Captain
of the Army Pay Corps

and, as far as I know, he hasn't been
further east than a day trip to Boulogne.

The closest he's come to India,

is a weekly night out
with his memsahib, Mavis,

to the Kohinoor Curry House
in Bexleyheath.

(Laughter)

But Captain Parkin,
dreaming away among his pigeons

and his bound copies
of the "Boy's Own Paper",

fondly fancies himself

as an officer of the British Raj.

A Union Jack waves above his
bungalow Mandalay in Durbar Avenue

and is solemnly lowered
every evening at sunset.

Dear me!

Hardly appropriate dreams, are they,

for 1979?

When you can't call up the Bengal
Lancers to hold the Ealing frontier,

or set out by elephant
to accept the surrender

of the Maharajah of Muswell Hill?

(Laughter)

(Rumpole) But, members of the Jury...

is this a free country?

Is it a country where Captain Parkin
and all the other eccentrics,

can flourish in all their dottiness?

I may not agree with everything
Captain Parkin says.

It's very easy to believe in free speech
for those we agree with,

but someone, a very wise Frenchman,
once gave us the answer.

He said, "I disagree with everything
you say,

"but will defend to the
death your right to say it."

- I wish to say...
- Rex.

I wish to say... I obey orders.

Members of the Jury,

what the defendant is alleged
to have said is

that most of us are happier
in our own homes.

I'm sure you'll remember the lines
of Robert Burns?

"My heart's in the Highlands,
my heart is not here."

I myself am a native
of another country.

I was born in Kirkcudbrightshire.

Often, amid the bustle
of London's traffic,

I long for the peace and quiet
of the little village where I was born,

and where I hope
in my retirement to return.

The answer is in the blood.

I don't suppose I'd be the least upset
if someone said that about me.

I do indeed have different blood
in my veins...

...the blood of the Clan Jamieson
of the Glen.

I don't think I can help you
any further, ladies and gentlemen.

You will go out now
and consider your verdict.

I swear to take the Jury

to some place of convenience
and not allow any person

to speak to them
or speak to them myself,

except to ask them
whether they be agreed or no.

(Indistinct chatter)

What did you think of that jury?

I thought they seemed
moderately sympathetic.

Charmed, do you think they were,
by your call to free speech?

I thought they saw the point,
in fairness.

And Jimmy Jamieson wanted
to pay tribute to Voltaire, too,

for the first time in his life!

Miss Trant, you are growing eloquent.

I'll tell you about that jury!
I was watching their faces.

They wanted the faintest excuse
to let the Fascist beast off!

That's all they want!

They're coming back now.

You totally underestimate
the fairness of the British Jury.

They will decide the whole thing
quite fairly and, if they acquit,

it's because they believe in free speech.

Yes, or because they're a bunch
of Paki bashers!

Miss Trant, I wish you wouldn't
say such things.

I find them curiously disturbing.

(Usher) Be upstanding in court.

Members of the Jury,
will your foreman please stand?

Have you reached a verdict
on which all agree? Answer yes or no.

(Foreman) Yes.
(Clerk) Do you find Mr Rex Parkin

guilty or not guilty of incitement
to racial hatred?

(Foreman) Not guilty.

Very well.

The defendant may be discharged...

with one word of warning.

Be careful how you express
your views in public.

They may be misunderstood.

(Judge) I will rise now.
(Usher) Be upstanding in court.

May God forgive you, Mr Rumpole.
I never shall.

In a pitiful attempt to save his own skin,

Rex Parkin showed the yellow streak,
gentlemen.

He allowed his barrister,
in a so-called court of law,

to pour scorn on the Party,

to make us a laughing stock
at the Old Bailey

and in the national press.

Therefore, I beg to move Sydney
as Deputy Chairman and, gentlemen,

Rex Parkin, having proved unworthy
of the high office we entrusted to him,

be removed as Chairman
of the South-East Area Party.

(Man #1) Any other gentleman second?
(Man #2) I second.

(Man #1) Have you anything to say,
Rex?

No, nothing to say.

All those in favour please indicate
in the usual manner.

Carried by an overwhelming majority.

(Man #1) Mr Worsley.

(Worsley) The need of the Party
is for more positive, dynamic leadership.

The days of the British Raj are over.
The gorgeous Empire

on which the sun never set is gone.

We have work to do, gentlemen,

more suited to the desperate
needs of this moment in time.

I propose Cliff Worsley for the Chair.

All those in favour please indicate
in the usual manner.

Carried... by an overwhelming majority.

Mr Chairman...
any other business?

Are they ready for their coffee
and biscuits now, Rex?

Yes, Mavis. I think they're quite ready.

Were they pleased with the result
of the case? Pleased you won the day?

Yes, dear...
I think they were pleased.

(Pistol shot, birds' wings flutter)

The departure of George Frobisher
to the Circuit Court Bench

Sorry to be late.

I just was saying Frobisher's departure
has left something of a gap in Chambers.

- We need a new tenant.
- Clearly.

- What do we need?
- A new tenant, Uncle Tom.

Erskine-Brown, perhaps you'd fill us in
on the two main contenders.

Well, we have had an application
from Owen Glendour-Jones.

He wants to move up to London
and has a sound practice in Builth Wells.

He'll bring us many Welsh solicitors.

- Yes, that's what I'm afraid of.
- Really, Rumpole!

Sorry, I forgot about
the Race Relations Act.

I've seen Glendour-Jones. He seems
to me to be an admirable candidate.

I do miss old George Frobisher.

I can't see myself revelling
in Pommeroys with Glendour-whats-it.

(Erskine-Brown) The other candidate
is Rumpole's pupil, Latif Khan.

Yes... Khan's something
of a special case.

- Yes! I was a special case!
- Now, Phylli...

No, I'm going to say this! I was
a special case when I joined Chambers.

No one wanted a woman. I had absurd
difficulty getting the key of the loo

and Henry endured
the embarrassment of explaining

that the barrister he was sending
to the County Court

might turn out to be a woman!
Now he'll have to explain that he's a...

What do you want me to say?
A "tinted gentleman"?

It doesn't matter how good we are,
we start out with a built-in handicap!

That's what you mean by
a special case, isn't it?

As a matter of fact, what I meant was

we're under considerable pressure
from the Bar Council.

I also happen to know the views
of the Lord Chancellor's office.

Keith's tremendously keen on places
being found for... overseas applicants.

I wouldn't be influenced by the wishes
of the Bar Council,

or by the Chancellor's department.

- No, I'm sure you wouldn't.
- But I have given paperwork to Khan

and I happened to be
in Bow Street, waiting,

when I saw him prosecute,
standing in for Hoskins.

You were waiting in Bow Street?

- Yes, I had a licensing application.
- Oh, it's all right!

I wasn't suggesting you'd been nabbed
for soliciting.

Latif Khan would make a useful
and hard-working member of Chambers.

- (Guthrie) Good.
- He also has genuine,

if not particularly formed,
musical tastes.

He can feel his way round Donizetti
and I hope to steer him towards Wagner.

I've promised him
an evening at the Garden.

I bet he'd prefer an afternoon
at Bow Street.

Thank you, Erskine-Brown,
thank you for your, er... contribution.

Now perhaps we can take a vote.
All in favour of Owen Glendour-Jones?

- Is that the darkie?
- No, Uncle Tom.

What about tomorrow?
What's on the bill of fare?

There's a committal in a murder.
They want you to go to Doncaster.

Murder! Now there's a nice clean crime.
Death without creed or colour.

That was a remarkable win you had
in our Race Relations battle.

Not a complete triumph.

My client shot himself
with his illegally retained sidearm

and there's a motion
to censure Judge Jamieson.

Yes, that's... all over the papers.

- Why did your chap kill himself?
- Ah, bad business.

God knows what he would have done
if we'd lost.

- Goodnight.
- This came from the Lord Chancellor.

- For me?
- Mr Rumpole!

It is for you.

I don't know what's the matter with the
Lord Chancellor. Always writing letters.

Goodnight, Henry.
Goodnight, Mr Featherstone.

(Mutters) Er... goodnight.

Ah, my dear Khan!

My dear fellow!

Yes, well now, I think I may have
some good news for you at last.

I know that you must have been worried
about your future at the Bar.

- Not much worried actually.
- Oh?

I know there will always be
a place found, if you're competent.

Do you really?

Oh, yes. I mean, the standard
is just not so terribly high, is it?

We had a discussion about your
candidacy at the Chambers meeting.

- I'm delighted to tell you you're in.
- No.

Difficult to believe? Not a bit!
It was only a short discussion.

I know it's a squeeze,
but leave your desk there.

- This is terribly embarrassing.
- Not a bit! Only too glad to have you.

Oh... I wonder would you mind making
a note of that rather nice little murder?

- I've enjoyed it here...
- Oh, good! Splendid!

...but I don't want to stay here.
- Don't what?

I'm more interested in prosecuting.

I'm keen that some of these terrible
fellows get their comeuppance.

Yes, but look, old fellow, you can get
prosecutions in these Chambers.

- I don't do them, but...
- Careless driving, take and drive away?

Small potatoes.

- I'm after the bigger fish.
- Are you indeed?

And where, may I ask,
are you going to put down your nets?

I'm offered a place
in the Treasury Counsel's Chambers.

We have a direct line there
to the Director of Public Prosecutions.

With great respect,
it doesn't seem to me

that you fellows have too much contact
with the "Powers That Be".

I'm sorry, Rumpole.
I've admired your way of doing cases.

It's your technique to laugh at them,
isn't it?

I suppose that's what Captain Rex
Parkin found a bit too much to bear.

I wouldn't have thought you'd feel
he was a loss to society?

It's what is coming after him,
that's what makes me so nervous.

Ah, yes. Well, it's your decision.

You must do exactly as you think best.

You're wrong
when you say these Chambers

have no connection
with the Powers That Be.

A letter from the Lord Chancellor's office.
Invitation to a little chat.

(Rumpole) 'I mean...

'who on earth
wants to be a Circus Judge?

'Poor old George Frobisher.

'I pity him, I really pity him.

'Ten till four, working every day.
Pay as you earn.

'Might as well be a Bank Manager.

'Besides which, Ionely job being a judge.

'No friends. No real mates.

'No companionable jars at the end
of the day in Pommeroys Wine Bar.

'And who wants to judge people?

'What the hell would I say to them?

"'Mr Bloggs, you will go to prison
for two years,"

'and, but for the grace of God,
Horace Rumpole goes with you.

'On the other hand...

'Well, on the other hand,
it's an easy life.

'I mean, you sit there
without any strain or worry.

'I mean, you don't give a damn
who wins.

And, of course...

'there's a bit of a pension attached.

'Once your bottom is on the bench,

'you're in for a pension.

'Hilda and I might be glad of a pension.

'I suppose you could do a bit of good
as a judge.

'Show appropriate mercy. "Madam, you
are more sinned against than sinning.

"'The sentence will be half an hour's
imprisonment, which you've served.

"'You are free to go."

'A look of cold fury
on the officer in charge of the case.'

'Ha ha ha.

'Being a judge might even
provide Rumpole

'with a certain amount
of harmless fun.'

Yes, I have, er... I have thought it over
most carefully, Keith.

I must say I'm not totally opposed.

Good. Very good.

Judge Jamieson said
you might be interested.

- He said that?
- Yes.

- Ah.
- Pity about Jimmy.

- Ah.
- Pity he put his foot in it.

Yes, well, one must be very careful
what one says on the bench.

So glad you agree.

Ah!

Yes, I have thought about it
a great deal

and I must say I do get
rather tired these days.

I'm not as young as I was,
and dashing about from the Bailey

to the Sessions at Chelmsford
plays merry hell with the back.

- I hope you'll find time for this job.
- Rather! Ten to four. No homework.

- Wonderful.
- Shouldn't take as long as that.

- Er... what shouldn't?
- Little job I had in mind for you.

- Let me explain.
- Well, I could get used to it.

Well, of course you could. After all,
you're an old Birkensavian, aren't you?

- Ah! Is that a qualification?
- Didn't Jimmy Jamieson make it clear?

Oh, well... he...

We want you as Secretary of the OBS.

OBS?

The Old Birkensavians of the Bar
Society. We dine once a year

at the Connaught Rooms.

Now, come on, Rumpole,

we old members of school
have got to stick together.

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