All language subtitles for Rumpole s04e02 and the Blind Tasting.eng

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(Indistinct radio music plays)

(Male radio voice) 'The Victoria line's
still suffering from a broken-down train,

'and a non-runner in southern region
into Holborn viaduct.

'Commander, what have you spotted? '

'Delays on the A40 in,
going across the fly-over... '

Partial to frozen peas, are you, Timson?

What's the matter with that?
He likes his chips and peas.

Thaw it out, Cosgrove.

This go well with your chips,
too, does it?

(Rumpole) Members of the jury,
an Englishman's freezer is his castle!

Surely he is entitled
to put anything he likes in it,

anything he may have bought cheaply

from a man offering articles for sale
in a public house.

Not dropped off the back of a lorry?

My lord,
during the entire course of this case

there has been no evidence
concerning lorries.

Of course, Mr Rumpole. This was
the unknown man in the pub, wasn't it?

There have been cases
of receiving stolen property

in this building before, you know.

I'm sure you've been engaged
in a good many of them.

As I was saying, members of the jury,

people with something
particularly valuable to protect, er...

often put them in strange places.

Many of us have had aunts...

Mr Rumpole!

...who were in the habit
of hiding pound notes in a tea caddy,

burying them deep in the Darjeeling,

running the risk of boiling up
their savings for their elevenses.

Mr Rumpole, your aunt is not evidence!

- That is Your Lordship's ruling?
- Of course it is.

Then, in my most humble submission,
Your Lordship is absolutely right!

Ignore aunts, members of the jury.

This case must be decided
strictly on the evidence.

And where in this case, let us ask,

is there proof that this is,
in fact, stolen property?

Is... there not
Detective Inspector Bellman?

Ah, yes, the enthusiastic DI who regards
convictions with as much pride

as the late Don Giovanni regarded
his conquests of the female sex!

No doubt he notches
them up on his braces.

(Laughter)

Bellman has said
that there have been burglaries

of Georgian silver
in certain country houses in Kent.

But, members of the jury, not one
householder has called to identify

this property as his,
or to say that it was stolen from him!

Mr Rumpole, do you intend to
address this jury at your usual length?

I intend to do my duty, my lord,
in the best interest of my client.

10.30 tomorrow morning,
members of the jury.

When considering this case,
you will put entirely out of your mind

anything Mr Rumpole told you
about his curious family.

I expect our relatives know the proper
place for their valuables. In the bank!

- Rumpole!
- Claude?

- How can you drink that stuff?
- I'll show you.

You raise the glass to the lips,
tilt the head backwards,

and you let the liquid trickle down gently,
past the tonsils.

Like that. I've had lots of practice,
but even you'll come to it in time.

Well, of course you can drink it.

Presumably it's possible
to drink methylated spirits

shaken up with ice
and Angostura bitters.

- A fair description.
- The point is, why should you want to?

Forgetfulness, Erskine-Browne!

Consignment
of the sepulchral Judge Graves

to the Lethe of forgotten things.

He has Judge Bullingham's
pernicious habit

of constantly interrupting
my address to the jury.

Oh, I'm defending an alleged
receiver of stolen sugar bowls.

He's guilty?

Hugh "Snakelegs" Timson
inherited the family fencing business

when his Uncle Percy
retired to live in Benidorm.

Well, why worry?

Because there is no evidence
that the stuff was stolen.

But the lugubrious Judge Graves
has put the kiss of death

on the presumption of innocence.
Ah, well...

Thank you, Enid.
Chalk it up, would you, please.

There is another reason
why I drink Pommeroy's plonk.

- Can't be the colour.
- Who cares about the colour?

Not to put too fine a point on it,

if you drink enough, you stand
a good chance of getting blotto!

Horace! Good heavens... the purpose
of wine is not to get you blotto!

You astonish me!

It's to taste sunlight trapped in a glass.

To remember some green slope in
Burgundy, or a village by the Gironde.

Oh, I dare say
there is a patch of barren soil

in some corner of a foreign field

where the Fleet Street grape
struggles for existence.

Probably somewhere between
the cowshed and the pissoir.

- The nose, Rumpole!
- What?

- The nose.
- I beg your pardon?

It's terrible!

Disagreeing about Pommeroy's plonk
is no reason to descend to abuse!

Rumpole!

My nose may not be a thing of beauty,
but in its youth it had a certain charm.

Horace!

I admit that in its later years
it may have put on a little weight...

You misunderstand...

But my nose doesn't make me
look like a constipated goss hawk!

But I don't mean your nose, Rumpole.
I mean the wine's nose!

Well, don't babble, Erskine-Brown.

The nose signifying bouquet.

Now, it's one of the expressions we
use in wine lore, together with length.

Well, the length of this looks to be
about one inch and shrinking rapidly.

The length of time
a fine wine lingers on the palate.

Why don't you let me educate you?

My friend, Martyn Vanberry, organises
tastings in the city. Blind tastings.

Blind?
Well, that sounds exactly what I need.

Lead me to them.
Got to cheer meself up somehow.

We're getting a verdict tomorrow.

Not guilty!
Oh, Mr Rumpole, you were wonderful!

Well,
just a little bit wonderful, perhaps.

Liz Probert.
I've just passed the Bar exams.

Then we don't shake hands.
The customers don't like it.

They think we're making secret deals.

We don't stereotype that much,
Mr Rumpole?

And you don't call me Mr Rumpole!

I thought you were too busy fighting
the class war to care about behaviour!

Fighting the what?

Protecting working people
from middle-class judges.

(Laughing) The Timsons would
hate to be called working people.

They are entirely middle-class villains.

And they're very conservative,
too, as a matter of fact.

They live according
to strict monetarist principles,

and the free market economy.

They're dead against the closed shop.

They believe shops should be open
all hours, preferably with a jemmy.

Excuse me.

It was brilliant! I sat in and it all
seemed hopeless, but you got him off!

You know why? None of the owners
would identify their silver.

They'd received the insurance money.
They were doing very nicely, thank you.

Last thing they wanted was
to get their old sugar bowls back,

and have to return the money.

Life's more complicated
than they teach you at the Bar exams.

(Door opens)

But he was innocent!

Well, let's say there wasn't
enough evidence to convict him.

Could you give me some counselling,
career-wise?

Not now. I have a blind date
with some attractive bottles of wine.

Oh, er... another quaint old tradition
of the Bar, Miss Probert.

Members only, I'm afraid.

(Chatter)

Excuse me a moment.

I'm Martyn Vanberry.
Welcome to the shop.

Ah, Horace Rumpole.

Oh, the legal eagle.
Came here with Colly, did you?

Claude Erskine-Brown, yes.

- We called him Colly at school.
- After the dogs?

No, after the doctor, Collis-Brown.

Claude was a bit of a pill at Winchester.
We had to kick him around a bit.

How frightfully decent of you.

I'd better get the show on the road.

Bill. Er... come on through, do.
Birdie, how lovely to see you.

I'm glad you could make it.

Hello there. Nice to see you.
I haven't seen you since last year.

Gather round, everybody.
Gather round.

Well, I think you all know the rules.
It's as easy as musical chairs.

The wrong-guessers
get knocked out as we go along,

until there are just two players,
and one superb bottle of wine left.

And my decision is final.

Oh, dear! Good afternoon, Mr Mantis.

Afternoon all. Right, bring on
the antifreeze, let's get warmed up.

I'll just hang me coat up.

I can't imagine why Martyn
invites him to these dos.

Hardly your typical connoisseur.

Impossibly common little man.

- Knows a lot about wine, does he?
- Buys a lot, Martyn tells me.

I suppose you do pretty well
out of a garage in Bloomsbury.

Honoria Bird. Wine correspondent
of the Sunday Examiner.

- Oh, Horace Rumpole. Barrister at law.
- Ah.

- (Martyn) Can we begin now?
- Suits me. Let the battle commence.

- Come back for seconds, can we?
- Hardly.

Mmmm...

'A beaker full of warm South

'full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene.

'Comparing this to ch�teau Fleet Street

'is like comparing a planning appeal
in the House of Lords

'to an indecent exposure
before the Uxbridge Magistrates.'

It's just over there. Expectoration corner.

I say, you haven't swallowed it,
have you? You must be a new boy.

Well, er... Rumpole, your first shot?

Yes, what is it, Horace?

Oh, well, it's outside
my price range for a start.

- Outside his price range!
- Have a guess.

Oh, I'd say at least ten quid a bottle.

- He's out!
- Yes, I'm afraid you're out. Mr Mantis?

Er... Les Barges, possibly. '75 - '76.
Bit under the age of consent.

Tasty little snog, but not quite right
for your actual dirty weekend.

Know what I mean?

- Inexpressively vulgar.
- (Martyn) Everybody agree?

Martyn, when will you give us
something difficult?

(Martyn) Wine number two coming up.

Mr Rumpole, let me give you
a glass of Vanberry's ordinaire.

- The consolation prize.
- Oh, splendid!

I don't have to spit it out, do I?

(Martyn) Colly?

I seem... to taste... Avignon. Erm...

Ch�teauneuf du Pape.

'79, possibly?

What do you say, Birdie? Something
perhaps a little more... southerly?

Australia. Probably around '81.

Well done, Birdie!

Let down by the nose, old darling.

Not very fair, really.
One always forgets about the colonies.

(Martyn) The final round,
and something quite remarkable.

Gordon Bennett!
When I said bring on the antifreeze

you really took me seriously.

Well, Birdie? Let me, er... give you
a clue. Birdie, er... it's not whisky.

I think I'd guessed that.

But think, Birdie.
Think of whisky translated.

- Try Johnny Mobil.
- Equine whisky.

Equine? White horse.

Very good. Conservative, too.
On the right.

On the right. The right - St Emilion.

That's not White Horse, exactly.
Cheval Blanc?

1971, I'm afraid. Nothing earlier.

Well done, Birdie!
Still an unbeatable palate.

I'm sorry you got pipped to the post,
Mr Mantis.

You did jolly well.
Come with me, Birdie, and er...

...you get another certificate
of the Grande Countess des Vin,

and a complimentary bottle
of the Gevrey Chambertain 1970.

A somewhat under-rated vintage.
Congratulations, Birdie.

(Hilda shouting) Is that you, Rumpole?

(Shouts) No.
It's the man come to tune the harp.

Oh, dear, you do seem
in a funny mood tonight, Rumpole.

Seem, madam? Nay, it is.
I know not seem.

'Tis not alone, my inky cloak,
good Hilda,

nor customary suits of solemn black,

nor windy suspiration of forced breath,

no, nor the fruitful river in the eye.

As a matter of fact, I won a case today.

Yes, I thought you might have.
That's why you're so full of yourself.

Oh, you like me better when I lose?

- At least you're quieter.
- And I went to a wine-tasting.

Oh? Don't you always?

Oh, Hilda! Ha-ha! No, I do it by instinct.

Claude Erskine-Brown's
giving me lessons in it.

Well, he ought to have something better
to do now that he's got a family.

Now, Hilda, you're a woman of
considerable experience, aren't you?

I don't know what you mean.

I mean,
you can tell margarine from butter?

Of course.

You wouldn't have any doubts about it,
not like those idiot women on television.

Of course not.

Although if the margarine
was labelled "fresh dairy butter",

and you had been told that
it came straight from the cow...

Rumpole, I'm glad you're
feeling so full of yourself tonight...

Although why anyone should want
to wrap margarine in butter packets...

I've got a bit of news for you.

As for those poor unfortunates
who have to guess

which washing powder
makes their undies whiter...

My old school friend Dodo Mackintosh
is coming to stay for a few days.

She's very keen to see you
in action at the Old Bailey.

I don't think she'd appreciate
you talking about undies.

They always look so afraid they're
going to disappoint the interviewer.

What did you say?

Did you see The Church Times,
Rumpole?

Only for the racing tips.

First class fellow writing
on legal matters - Canon Probert.

This piece is headed, "Vengeance Is
Mine, I Will Repay, Sayeth The Lord".

Look out, Ballard! You're getting your
Church Times in my egg and fried slice.

"Too often the crafty lawyer
frustrates the angel of retribution."

Too often the angel of retribution
makes a balls-up of the burden of proof.

What we need in chambers is someone
with the spirit of Canon Probert,

someone to convince the public
that lawyers still have moral fibre.

- Probert? Did you say Probert?
- Canon of Worsfield.

How odd.
Why is that name so familiar?

Liz Probert. About my application
to be a pupil in Chambers...

He wants one, too, Dianne.
I keep telling you,

it'll come before the Pupillage
Committee in the normal course.

- Pupil? Any good at putting, are you?
- Do you have to be?

Well, my old pupil master,
CH Wystan -

awfully nice chap,
but he never gave me anything to do.

So I became the best fellow in chambers

at getting his balls
in the waste-paper basket.

Awfully good training, you know.
I never had enormous practice.

Well, I had very little practice at all,
if the truth be known,

so I was able to concentrate
on my golf, you see.

Now, if you want to be a pupil,

my advice to you
is to get yourself a mashie niblick.

- I'm just taking this to Mr Rumpole.
- Oh, don't bother. I'll do it.

- Where is he?
- First door on the right. But...

Oh, let her go, Dianne.

Better than her hanging round
the clerk's room, holding up our work.

What's the, erm...
What's the law on the subject?

Er... what's the, er... What?

The law... on the doctrine
of impossible attempt?

Hasn't the House of Lords just had
something new to say about it?

Oh, the House of Lords,
they're always saying something.

Bunch of old chatterboxes,
if you want my opinion. Thank you.

- Yes... but you must know the case.
- Oh, must I?

Yes. I mean, there have been all these
articles in the Criminal Law Review.

- Oh, my favourite bedtime reading.
- So, you know the Lords' decision?

Know it? Of course I know it.

The long winter evenings
at Froxbury Mansions,

we talk of little else.

Good heavens, the name
is on the tip of my tongue...

Er... Swinglehurst.

Oh, yes. Swinglehurst. There we are,
at my fingertips as usual, Mr Bernard.

Here we are. "The Doctrine
of Impossible Attempts Examined.

"The Queen against Dewdrop
distinguished."

Yes, good stuff, Mr Bernard.
Fine rich prose.

So... how does that affect Tony Timson

trying to steal
three non-existent television sets?

Ah, yes, indeed. How does it?

Yes, I think a written opinion would be
of more use to you, Mr Bernard.

There are other authorities
I may have to consult in depth.

(Muttering)

Oh. I should be enormously grateful.

Oh, think nothing of it, Mr Bernard.

Think nothing of it.
All part of the Rumpole service.

Bye. How on earth?

I was just passing.
I'll do that opinion for you.

Oh, you know a bit of law, do you?

Top student of my year,
if you want the statistic.

I must confess that
after a lifetime at the Bar

I have very little interest in the law.

Give me a bloodstain or two,
a bit of disputed typewriting,

couple of hairs on a cardigan.

You can keep
your House of Lords decisions!

Look, Rumpole, my application
is in before the Pupillage Committee...

Oh, you want to join
our gallant band of brothers

here in Equity Court, do you?

I just hope they don't all suffer
from standard male reflexes.

Miss Probert, is your father
a Canon of the Church of England

who writes nonsense about
legal matters? Oh, don't answer that.

I mean, has this head of chambers

got a sexist attitude
towards women barristers?

Dear old Sam Ballard
is ridiculously prejudiced

against young women whose fathers are
not Canons of the Church of England,

so I'd keep quiet about it, if I were you.

We had a girl in chambers
called Fiona Allways.

Yes, she married a merchant banker
and went to live in Cheltenham.

Just as soon as you teach them
to take a decent note in court,

they marry a merchant banker
and go and live in Cheltenham.

- Elizabeth Probert.
- Probert, yes.

I suppose she might have a certain
elfin charm - without her glasses!

I wonder if she'd care to help
with my County Court practice.

That's all you think about,
Erskine-Brown!

Wine, women
and your County Court practice.

Now, that is distinctly unfair!

I'm not sure that we want
any new intake in chambers.

Is there enough work to go round?

I speak as a member
with daughters to support.

Do you know, thinking the matter over,

I think Phyllida
might be rather against her.

Probert! Probert!

Isn't that the name of
your favourite writer on church affairs?

- Canon Probert?
- Yes.

- Is she some relation?
- Well, she hasn't denied it.

- Oh, well, in that case...
- In what case?

Elizabeth Probert comes from a family
with enormously sound views

on the religious virtue of retribution
as part of our criminal law.

I see her as an admirable pupil
for Rumpole.

You don't think he might teach her
some of his, erm... courtroom antics?

I think she might,
just possibly, be his salvation.

(Chatter)

(Engine stops)

Keep the old Cortina
in the drive now, do you?

- You're not leaving that there?
- What's the matter, garage full?

Mmm?

Keys?

Erm... well, I can't quite
put me hands on them for a minute.

All right. Open up.

(Timson) Oh, no. Come on! Leave off!

(Shouts) Leave off! Hey, now, leave off!

Here y'are.

Fancy a drop of this to go
with your chips and peas, Timson?

(Liz shouts) Rumpole!

Excuse me. Sorry.
Where are you going?

To a conference in Brixton.

I'll give you a lift. I'm coming with you.

Why?

Mr Ballard just told me. I've passed the
committee, and I've been given to you.

- To me?
- As a pupil.

- I didn't mean it to go as far as that.
- I can look up the law.

Oh, for heaven's sake!
We won't need the law!

Take some kind
of a rudimentary note, can you?

Just... tell Mr Rumpole why you had
all that wine in your garage.

Nothing to do with coming
from a broken home, was it?

No! What are you talking about?

Mum and Dad was married 40 years.

He never looked at another woman.
What are you on about?

Just setting Miss Probert's mind at rest.

Snakelegs, how come your garage
was used as a cellar for fine wines?

- Drop of good stuff, was it?
- Well, didn't you taste it?

Teetotal, me. You know that.

Although, the wife... well, she will have
a glass of tawny port at Christmas.

Not that I think it's right.

It's drink that leads to crime.
We all know that, don't we?

But where did you get it?
The Judge might be curious to know.

Well, there was this fella
I happened to bump into... hmm...

(Rumpole) Not in a pub?

The Needle Arms in Bromley.
How did you guess? Are you psychic?

Ah, please, Snakelegs,
let's have a little variation.

Judge Graves is getting
terribly bored with that story.

- We're not having him again, are we?
- (Rumpole) Not if I can help it.

All right, so you bought all these crates
of stuff from this fella in a pub.

Who's got a list of the exhibits?

Thank you, Miss Probert.
Don't happen to remember his name,

by any chance, do you?

Cheval Blanc, St Emilion...

No, no, no. It was nothing like that.
Something more Irish, erm...

What are our chances, Mr Rumpole?

You've heard of snowballs in hell?

You did all right with me last time.

Last time the losers
didn't claim their property.

- Because of the insurance.
- Miss Probert remembers.

This time the loser of the wine is the
principal witness for the prosecution.

Martyn Vanberry.

Of Vanberry's Purveyors of Fine Wines,
Prentice Alley, City of London?

Yes.

Not a particularly attractive character...

but a highly respectable school bully.

- Where are we going now?
- Ah, we are going to see a witness.

- I thought we weren't allowed to.
- We're allowed to see this one.

This one's an expert,
and we're allowed to see experts.

Daddy buy you
this little run-about, did he?

- A present from the Canon?
- My daddy isn't a canon.

Oh, hush, hush, Miss Probert.
What is he exactly, what's he do?

He's Labour leader
of the North London Council.

- Not Red Ron Probert?
- Yeah.

Oh, dear! Don't tell our learned head
of chambers that, will you? Promise?

Promise.

It's always nice to meet
a genuine enthusiast, Mr Rumpole.

I've been wondering about your...
your qualifications as a connoisseur.

I mean, where you got your training.

Training? Day trip to Boulogne,
with the Luton Secondary Modern.

You should have seen us,
what a scruffy bunch of kids we were -

all acne and lavatory jokes.

Enough to drive sir what took us
into the funny farm.

We were always off trying to give him
the slip, chasing non-existent girls.

They were fatter and spottier than
the local talent round the Wimpy Bar.

Well, I ended up in this station buffet
for some unknown reason,

and I spent what I'd been saving
for an unavailable knee-trembler,

if you'll pardon my French, Miss Probert,
and I bought half a bottle of wine.

I don't know what it was.
Ordinaire de la garde.

French Railways perpetual stand-by.

One taste and I was hooked.

Brought up on fizzy drinks
that taste of old pennies,

and sweet tea
that you could stand a spoon up in,

I tell you, that wine became
a bit of a revelation, Mr Rumpole.

I used to keep a cellar under me bed.

And I shared it out
with special friends in tooth mugs.

All right, is it?

Somewhat better than
Cheval Blanc round Vanberry's.

Morning Henry, Dianne. Any mail? No.

How are the, er...
amateur dramatics going?

Oh, we're giving "Private Lives"
next month.

Miss Osgood takes
the Gertie Lawrence role.

The lady in charge of the court lists
down the Old Bailey?

Yes, Mr Rumpole. Could I put you down
for a couple of seats?

Orchestra stalls, Henry. The very best
the Town Hall can provide.

And, er... next time you're chatting
with Miss Osgood during rehearsals,

now that Judge Bullingham
is out of the way for a bit,

holidaying, I believe,
with some chums in Pamplona,

it is vital that
the latest Timson receiving case

does not get before
the White Sepulchre.

Who, sir?

The funereal Judge Graves, second
only in horror to the Mad Bull himself!

I understand Judge Molesey
is sitting next week, sir.

Molesey, a Daniel come to judgement!

(Rumpole) I'll have Molesey
eating out of my hand.

As mild-mannered as an old darling
has ever thought in terms of probation.

(Bernard)
Probation for receiving stolen wine?

With old Molesey
I wouldn't be at all surprised.

A fortnight's community service is his
equivalent of a sentence in the galleys.

- (Bernard) Mr Rumpole!
- He's a real old sweetheart.

- Judge Molesey's got a severe cold.
- Can't the old fool wrap up warm?

- We'll transfer you to another judge.
- Another judge? What do you mean?

(Coughing)

Mr Rumpole, do you wish to detain
this gentleman in the witness box?

- Just for a little while, my lord.
- You have questions for him?

One or two, my lord, yes.

Is there any dispute that your client

had this gentleman's wine
in his possession?

No dispute about that, my lord, no.

Then to what issue in this case
will your questions be directed?

'Lf you sit there quietly, old darling,
you might just possibly find out.'

They will be directed to the issue
of my client's guilt or innocence,

a matter which may be
of some interest to the jury.

Er... Mr Martyn Vanberry, I take it
that the wine you lost was insured?

Well, of course. I had it fully insured.

- As a prudent businessman.
- I hope I am that, my lord.

I'm sure you are, Mr Vanberry.

How long have you been
trading as a wine merchant

in Prentice Alley in the City of London?

- Just three years, my lord.
- Before that, where were you trading?

By selling pictures.
I had a shop in Chelsea.

We specialised
in 19th-century watercolours.

- The name of the business?
- Vanberry Fine Arts.

Have you managed to find insurance
claims for Vanberry Fine Arts yet?

We're still looking, Mr Rumpole.

'Only one thing to do.'
Take a gamble!

I put it to you that Vanberry Fine Arts
made a substantial insurance claim...

in respect of the premises
in the King's Road.

There was a serious break-in
and most of our stock was stolen.

- Thank God for that.
- Of course, I had to make a claim.

Of course.

You seem to be rather prone
to serious break-ins, Mr Vanberry.

It is the rising tide of lawlessness
which threatens to engulf us all.

You should know that better
than anyone, Mr Rumpole.

Usher, could I have a bottle
from exhibit number four, please?

Exhibit number four.
That's part of the wine.

Yes, my lord.

You're not proposing to sample it,
I hope, Mr Rumpole?

I do not make application to do so
at this moment, my lord.

Mr Vanberry, you say that this bottle
contains a fine claret of vintage quality?

- It does, my lord.
- Retailing at what price?

- Ah, I think around 50 pounds a bottle.
- And insured for?

I believe we insured for the retail price.
Such a wine would be hard to replace.

Of course it would. It's a particularly
fine vintage of the, um...

- What did you say it was?
- Cheval Blanc, my lord.

Yes. We all know what we must pay

for a fine Burgundy nowadays,
don't we, members of the jury?

- It's a claret, my lord.
- Claret, is it? Yes, of course it is.

Didn't I say that?

Yes, well. Let's... get on with it,
Mr Rumpole.

I wish to make an application
concerning this exhibit, my lord.

Oh, very well, make it then.

I would like to apply to the court
for permission to open this bottle

of alleged Cheval Blanc.

You're not serious?

Well, Your Lordship seemed
to have the possibility in mind.

Mr Rumpole, from time to time,
the weight of these grave proceedings

at the Old Bailey may be lifted
when the Judge makes a joke.

One doesn't do it often,
one seldom can.

But one likes to do it whenever possible.
I was making a joke, Mr Rumpole.

Ah!

I am sure the court is most grateful
for Your Honour's levity,

but I am entirely serious.

My learned pupil, Miss Probert,
has come equipped with a corkscrew.

May I get this quite clear, what would
be your purpose in opening this bottle?

For the purpose of tasting the wine,
my lord.

Mr Rumpole, this is a court of law.
This is not a bar room!

I have sat here for a long time,
far too long, in my opinion,

listening to your cross-examination
of this gentleman,

who has, the jury may well find,
suffered at the hands of your client.

I am not prepared to sit here
while you drink the exhibits!

Not drink. Taste, my lord!

And may I say this,
that if the defence

is denied the opportunity of tasting
this exhibit, this vital exhibit,

I shall have to apply immediately
to the Court of Appeal.

- Court of Appeal?
- Court of Appeal.

You would take this matter
to the Court of Appeal?

- This very afternoon, my lord.
- That's what you'd do?

Oh, without hesitation, my lord.

(Clears his throat)

What do you say to that,
er... Mr Tristram Paulet?

My lord, I'm sure the court
would not wish my learned friend

to have any cause for complaint,
however frivolous.

And it might be better
not to delay matters

by making an application
to the Court of Appeal.

Exactly what was in my mind.
Very well, Mr Rumpole.

In the quite exceptional
circumstances of this case,

the court is prepared
to give you leave to taste.

Of course I shall invite Your Lordship
and my learned friend to join me.

(Martyn shouts) My lord...

Was there something
you wished to say, Mr Vanberry?

- No, my lord.
- Oh, well...

'Yes, an all too familiar taste.

'And to those of a cultured palate,

'demanding an immediate visit
to expectoration corner.

'Chateau Thames Embankment 1986.
A particularly brutal year.'

Mr Rumpole, are you saying that this
claret is not what it pretends to be?

Exactly, my lord. And I shall be
calling evidence on the matter.

No doubt you will do that
in the course of your defence

which will be... tomorrow morning,
members of the jury.

- Rumpole's got a pupil.
- I hope he's an apt pupil.

Oh, it isn't a he, it's a she.

A she? Oh, really, Rumpole?

- Yes, a Miss Liz Probert.
- You call her Liz?

Oh, no, I call her "Miss".

And, er, is she a middle-aged person?

Oh, about 24.
Is that middle-aged these days?

And is Hilda quite happy about that?

Oh, Hilda doesn't look for happiness.

Oh? What does she look for?

The responsibilities of command.

(Phone rings)

Oh, excuse me.

Hello, yes. Yes, Rumpole speaking.

Eastham? Ken Eastham?

Oh, you work for Vanberry's?

Of course, you were the pourer
in the blind tasting contest, weren't you?

This Liz Probert, Hilda,
aren't you curious to meet her?

No, Dodo, not particularly.

That's interesting, Mr Eastham.
That's very interesting indeed.

Thank you for ringing,
you've been most helpful.

Right, bye.

Oh, yes, indeed. You look
extremely full of yourself, Rumpole!

No doubt he is full of himself,
with a young pupil to trot about with!

Dodo will be coming down
to the Old Bailey tomorrow, Rumpole.

She's tremendously keen
to see you in action.

- You've come to see him in action?
- Yes.

- Mr Rumpole in, Dianne?
- No, he's... round the corner.

Yeah, that's right.
He's out having his breakfast.

Preparing himself for the labours
of the day. I'll show you where to go.

For my next case,
matrimonial quarrel.

The husband puts his hand out
to stop his wife leaving home.

Accidentally, oh, quite accidentally,
he got the vagus nerve in her throat.

That's the way you can stop somebody's
heart, without really meaning to.

(Chatter)

Didn't they teach you that
in the Bar exams?

No.

Just about there on you, Miss Probert.

Rumpole... in action!

Poor Hilda!

- Mr Ballard?
- Yes.

Oh, chappie downstairs
said I'd find you up here.

I'm Liz's father. Probert.

Of course, yes.
I am delighted to meet you.

Delighted. Please sit down. Do sit down.

Please sit down, do... Do...

I should have realised, you're in mufti.

- What?
- Your collar.

What's wrong with my collar?

Nothing. Nothing, at all.
I'm sure it's very comfortable.

- (Rumpole) Are you Miss Honoria Bird?
- I am.

Are you a Grand Maitresse des Vins?

And for the past 15 years,
have you been wine correspondent

to the Sunday Examiner
of Fleet Street, London, EC4?

That is so.

Miss Bird, you will be handed
a glass with some wine in it.

- Would you please taste it?
- Hmm-mm.

Yes, painful though it may be,
you'll have to swallow it, Miss Bird.

- We've no expectoration corner here.
- Don't lead the witness.

Oh, certainly not.

In your own words, would you describe
the wine you have just tasted?

Is it worth describing?

Oh, my client's liberty may depend on it.

It is rough, and, I would say, crude
Bordeaux-type wine of mixed origins.

It may well contain
some product of North Africa.

Have you met such a wine before?

I believe that it is served
in certain bars in this part of London

to the more poorly paid members
of the legal profession.

Would you price it
at 50 pounds a bottle?

(Honoria) You're joking!

Ah, it is not I that made the joke,
Miss Bird.

It would be daylight robbery
to charge more than two pounds.

Two pounds. Thank you, Miss Bird.
Oh, just wait there a moment, please.

Miss Bird, the wine you have just tasted
came from a bottle labelled

Cheval Blanc '71. You don't think
that is the correct description?

Certainly not.

At a blind tasting at Mr Vanberry's shop,

did you not identify
a bottle of Cheval Blanc '71?

- I, er...
- Yes, did you not?

I had my doubts about it...

- But did you not identify it?
- Yes, I did.

Thank you, Miss Bird.

Miss Bird, on that occasion
were you competing against

a Mr Monty Mantis, a garage owner
of Luton, in a blind tasting contest?

Yes.

And did Mr Mantis express a poor
opinion of the alleged Cheval Blanc?

He did.

And were you encouraged
by various hints and clues

to identify it as a fine claret
by Mr Vanberry?

Yes, um... he was trying
to help me a little.

Yes, to help you call it Cheval Blanc.

I suppose so, yes.

Miss Bird, looking back
on that occasion,

do you think you were tasting
genuine Cheval Blanc?

Looking back on it, my lord,
I don't think I was.

I must say I am
a tremendous admirer of your work.

Are you really?
I thought you lawyers were always right.

Not always.
Some of them are entirely wrong.

But there are a few of us
prepared to fight the good fight.

On with the revolution!

You think it needs that,
to awaken a real sense of morality?

Don't you?

A revolution
in our whole way of thinking?

I fear so, I greatly fear so.

Brother Ballard, we're in this together!

Of course. Yes, er... brother? Were you
in some Anglican monastic order?

- Only the Clerical Workers Union.
- Clerical workers! That of course, yes.

Amusing way of putting it.

And most of them
weren't exactly monastic.

Yes, there's been a falling off,
even among the clergy.

We had a few Cheval Blanc '71
in the cellar,

then this new consignment arrived.

From one of your usual sources?

No, I didn't know where it came from.

Did Mr Vanberry give you
any specific instructions

regarding the new consignment?

Yes. He asked me to move it
to the other side of the cellar.

- And did you put it all there?
- No.

I had started to unpack
one of the cases,

and put a few bottles
in the old Cheval Blanc bin.

And what happened to the other cases,
those you had not unpacked?

They were the ones that were stolen.

Tell us, Mr Eastham,
what was Mr Vanberry's reaction

when told of the burglary?

He seemed quite calm about it.
He said, "Oh, well, it's all insured."

Mr Rumpole, I'm not absolutely sure

that I follow the effect
of the evidence you've been calling.

If Mr Vanberry were
in the business of selling

the inferior stuff we have tasted,

and Miss... Honoria Bird has tasted,
as highly expensive claret,

surely the deceit would be obvious
to anyone drinking it.

I'm not suggesting that the wine

was in Mr Vanberry's
possession for drinking.

- Not for drinking?
- No, my lord.

Well, what... what on earth
was it in his possession for?

He had it for stealing, my lord.

And, er... our Liz is doing well, is she?

We've great hopes of her. A girl with her
background, how could she go wrong?

Ah!

Er... she's with Rumpole,
an elderly member of these chambers.

- I think she may do him some good.
- Do him?

Perhaps he's mixed too long
with the criminal classes,

but Rumpole seems somewhat
lacking in a sense of sin!

He had it for stealing,
members of the jury.

But the theft was as phoney
and a fraudulent as the wine itself.

No doubt Mr Vanberry
had arranged for this cheap liquid

in expensive bottles
to be taken away and disposed of.

That was his plan and his intention.
So that when my client, Mr Timson,

bought the wine
from a man in the Needle Arms,

he was not buying
or receiving stolen property.

He was buying wine
that was sold by its owner

in order to defraud his insurers.

Whatever the position
of anyone else in this court...

...my client has committed
no crime whatsoever.

Oh, you seem very full
of yourself again, Rumpole.

- I suppose you've won another case?
- Oh, yes, I'm afraid so.

"Oh, for a draught of vintage
that hath been cool'd

"a long age in the deep-delved earth."

Yes, yes, a crude Bordeaux type
of mixed origins,

on sale to the more poorly paid
members of the legal profession.

How true.

(Laughs) Oh, dear!

What have you got to laugh at,
Rumpole?

- Dear Ballard.
- Your head of chambers?

Yes, he met Miss Probert's daddy,
Red Ron,

and still thought he was
some sort of Anglican divine.

He even called him father.

He went entirely by the name
on the label, you see.

"Tasting of Flora
and the country green..."

I say, it's remarkably quiet around here.

I seem to miss the fluting tones of your
childhood chum, old Dodo Mackintosh.

Dodo's gone home.

- Oh, why?
- She's disgusted with you, Rumpole.

"Dance and Provencal song,
and sunburnt mirth..."

As a matter of fact,
I told her she'd better go.

You told her to go?

She said she's seen you making up
to some young girl in a teashop.

That's what she said?

I couldn't imagine any young girl
wanting to be made up by you.

- I told her it was absolutely ridiculous.
- Thank you very much.

"O for a beaker full of the warm South

"Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

"With beaded bubbles
winking at the brim,

"And purple-stained mouth..."

She said that you were
in some sort of embrace.

Dodo had got it entirely wrong,
hadn't she, Rumpole?

Oh, of course she'd got it wrong!

She can't tell margarine
from butter like you, Hilda.

"That I might drink,
and leave the world unseen,

"And with thee fade away
into the forest dim..."

Hilda, would you care to fade away
with me into the forest dim?

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