[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ [clamoring] Our wish is to reason with you, brother, as to whether you should cross this picket line in an officially recognized dispute.

What do you think you're doing, eh?

[glass shatters] [siren wailing] ♪ Oh, raise the scarlet standard high ♪ ♪ Within its shade, we'll live or die ♪ ♪ Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer ♪ ♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here ♪ Ah, morning's at 11:30 approximately.

The temple's dew-pearled.

The lark's on the wing.

The snail's on the thorn.

God's in His heaven.

And all's right with the world.

Well, more or less all right, anyway.

They're all waiting for you, Mr. Rumpole.

Clients, Henry?

Do I have a room full of errant human beings, all of them with a blessed tendency to crime?

Not exactly, sir.

The members of chambers is waiting for you.

Mr. Ballard expected you first thing.

Why should I be in first thing?

I've got nothing in court today, Henry.

I mean to laze around with The Times crossword.

I only dropped in here as a temporary refuge from domestic bliss.

Mr. Ballard expects everyone in by 9:00, sir.

That's what Mr. Ballard says.

What does he think this is, a barristers' chambers or the local cash and carry?

Oh, I couldn't say, sir.

Anyhow, he's got me waiting for you here at the checkout.

Ballard's in his chambers and practically everything seems to be wrong with the world.

Oh, no!

Not another chambers meeting.

In the new age of efficiency at the bar, Rumpole, it might be more appropriate to call it a board meeting.

Quite right.

I'm bored to tears already.

I'm afraid yours is a voice making jokes in the wilderness, Rumpole.

We at equity court have decided, whilst you were away doing your stint of minor crime in the North of England-- It was gross indecency in Leeds.

Whatever it was, we've decided to put our full weight behind the government's plans to drag the English bar into the 20th century.

There's a chap called Whympering in chambers in Fountain Court.

Please, Uncle Tom.

He said he could drag the bar into the 20th century.

Please.

So he bought him an automatic coffee-making machine instead of the old kettle they used to in the rev's cupboard.

We have decided that to give the consumer a proper service, 3 Equity Court will be run on strictly business lines.

You may look upon me as chairman of the board and Claude Erskine-Brown as managing director.

He will now speak to our new ideas on possible partnership with solicitors.

And how will our new ideas answer him?

Rudely, I hope.

The Office Italiano is what this machine was called.

Oh, dear.

It was supposed to brew up that sort of inky black stuff you used to get in foreign railway stations.

You each have an agenda in front of you.

Now, we're going to start by working proper business hours, 9:00 to 6:00 and no more than one hour for luncheon.

And there'll be a simple form for you to fill in every week so that we can monitor each member's productivity.

How do we monitor your productivity, Claude?

By the number of years in chokey you managed to get for your unfortunate client?

And one day, this Office Italiano machine exploded, and it destroyed a whole lot of original documents, including three wills.

Oh, dear, it caused an awful stink.

[chuckles] Poor old Whympering.

He got sued for negligence.

Uncle Tom.

We're aiming for a more streamlined, slimmed-down operation.

Leaner and fitter.

Do you think you could manage a slimmed-down operation, Rumpole?

Highly comical, Claude.

Try to remember, I make the jokes in chambers meetings.

I hope in the future we can get through our business in an atmosphere of quiet efficiency, without too many jokes.

No jokes at all, Ballard, if you have anything to do with it.

He had to leave the bar.

Took up turkey farming in Norfolk.

Who took up turkey farming in Norfolk?

This chap Whympering, the fellow who introduced the coffee making machine.

Ah, yes, in the end, they went back to the old kettle and gas ring.

Far more satisfactory.

I think I went into the law because I wanted to be a barrister.

I don't want an office job, quite honestly.

Oh, really?

Well, times change, Inchcape, and we have to change with them.

Now, to get back to Claude's paper.

I'm not sure we want solicitors joining us.

Do we need the competition?

I speak as a man who has four daughters to bring up and jolly well needs every briefing he can get hold of.

Yes, yes.

Well, I suppose, Hoskins, it's just possible that some solicitors have daughters too!

If we're making these changes-- We are, Probert.

We are.

The Lord Chancellor expects it of us.

Very definitely.

No, no no, no.

Carry on, Elizabeth.

We'd like to hear your contribution.

Don't be shy.

Then why don't we make it a really radical chambers?

This chap Whympering-- Uncle Tom!

--was a bit of a radical.

Wore colored socks.

I mean, why don't we concentrate on civil liberties?

Stop the government using the courts for another spot of union bashing?

My dad knows a union leader who's been arrested.

Now, that's just the sort of thing we should be-- What?

What?

Defending trade unions, Ms. Probert?

[scoffs] I-- I don't think that's quite the image we want to give Number 3 Equity Court.

No, I'm afraid I agree.

Standing up to plead for the Amalgamated Sausage Skin Operatives or whatever they are, not quite the name of the game at this particular moment in history.

Oh, really Claude?

CLAUDE: Hmm.

You're a barrister, aren't you?

You belong to the oldest trade union of the lot, crammed full of restrictive practices.

Oh, got you there, old love.

Direct hit, right below the waterline.

Well, really, Elizabeth.

Isn't that just a little bit hard on a fellow?

Brother Rumpole, Sister Probert, brother from the solicitor's office.

Brothers, Sister.

You make it sound like a case in the family division.

You come to me highly recommended, Brother Rumpole, by Brother Ron Probert, chair of the South East London council.

I told you, my dad put in a word for you.

Brother Rumpole, I'm assured that you're taking on this case as an expression of your solidarity with the workers' struggle and the right to withdraw labor.

Well, let's say I'm doing it as an expression of my right to do cases that don't actually bore me to extinction.

Now, then, Mr. Baker, let me put the case against you.

Manslaughter.

Me?

Kill someone?

That's a joke, that is.

Oh, manslaughter in jest?

No offense to the world.

There is evidence that as the unfortunate coach driver, now deceased, was being carried to the ambulance, you were heard intoning some ditty about the people's flag being deepest red.

Well, we sings it at social events.

It's just like "Auld Lang Syne."

Or "Somewhere Over the Rainbow."

I suggest that during this industrial dispute, you behaved with utter contempt for the law.

Me?

Never.

You went on a picket line with more than six people.

That's not a law.

That's a code of practice.

Oh, please, Mr. Baker, let's leave these niceties to Ms. Liz.

Sister Liz, she has the books.

Neither you or I have the time to read them.

Do you deny you were on a picket line with more than six people?

Some others turned up to give us extra support, yes.

Brothers from your own place of work?

Not necessarily.

Oh, brothers you'd never seen in your life before.

Well, some of them was, yes.

But we needed all the help we could get.

Even illegal help?

I suppose so.

Even the help of a brick chucked through a charabanc window?

I didn't do that, I swear it.

Ah, well, a witness named Jebb says he saw you do it.

He's a bloody liar.

Oh, not a brother, then, eh?

Perhaps a more distant relation.

Down at the local nick you were subjected to a forensic examination-- They took a liberty.

--and traces of brick dust were found on your trousers, your shirt, and your hands.

I was doing some building in the back garden.

A man's got to do something when he's out of work.

Oh, so you indulged in a spot of bricklaying.

How extremely convenient.

So you think he's guilty?

On the contrary, Sister Liz.

I know he's innocent.

No criminal is going to stand around singing the red flag over his victim's body.

Certainly not in the presence of the Old Bill.

Wouldn't find the Timsons doing anything like that, would you?

Well, if he's innocent, we might get him off at the committal.

Our only chance of getting him off is in front of a jury.

We say as little as possible at the committal.

All the same, I'd like you there, Mr. Rumpole.

Oh, would you, Brother?

Anything to oblige.

- Hah.

You see, I might need a few tips.

Tips, Brother Bernard?

Yes, well, I thought I'd do the advocacy at the preliminary hearing.

Well, sort of a dummy run for the Lord Chancellor's changes when we solicitors can appear in the highest courts in the land.

So if you'll sit behind me, Mr. Rumpole.

[chatter] If I could just get to the bar.

Thank you so very much.

Oh, what can ail thee, learned clerk, alone and palely loitering?

- Industrial action.

- What?

Come again?

I am seriously considering taking industrial action, Mr. Rumpole.

You take my advice, Henry.

You take a large drink instead.

Jack, a king-sized Chateau Thames Embankment, please.

And a positively mammoth Dubonnet and bitter lemon for my learned clerk.

Oh, put it on my slate, why don't you?

You're a generous man, Mr. Rumpole.

Think nothing of it.

If only there were other gentlemen in chambers as generous as you, Mr. R. Oh, meaning?

Meaning, Mr. Erskine-Brown.

Oh, to name but a few.

Oh.

Oh, there, Mr. Rumpole, you've put your finger on it, sir.

As is your way, sir.

As is your invariable way.

Lord Erskine-Brown was standing behind the door when they handed out generosity.

Oh, thank you, Jack.

It's not that, sir.

It's his business plan to slim down chambers, Mr. Rumpole.

Never trust anybody who wants to slim down anything, Henry.

God rot all slimmers.

He's suggesting taking me off my percentage and putting me on wages, sir.

He says a clerk is just a constant figure on their new balance sheet.

Well, should I withdraw my labor?

Oh, industrial action by barristers' clerk?

Sounds a bit like a strike by poets or pavement artists.

It's hardly likely to bring the country to its knees, old love.

Too true, Mr. Rumpole.

Too very true, sir.

So I'd be grateful of your opinion.

My opinion, Henry, is this.

We are the last of the free lancers, the knights errant of the law.

We ride the world with our sword rusty and our armor squeaking.

We do battle with fire-breathing dragons on the bench and rescue a few none-too-innocent damsels in distress.

We fit into no one's business plan or keep office hours or meet productivity targets.

And the only choice we offer the client is freedom or chokey.

It could well be, Henry, that our day is done.

Done, Mr. Rumpole?

From too much love of living, From hope and fear set free, We thank with brief thanksgiving, Whatever gods may be.

That no man lives forever, That dead men rise up never, That even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea.

There now, Henry, doesn't that cheer you up?

Not very much, sir.

If I have to be extremely honest.

Same again, Jack, please.

If there's any room left on the slate.

Hilda!

Hilda!

Hi-- Hilda?

Answer came there none, But that was scarcely odd.

Because she'd went and been and gone.

Ah.

It was hanging on the floor.

What on earth are you doing, Rumpole?

Oh, I was just looking for the note.

What note?

The note which says your stew is in the oven.

- There isn't one.

- No note?

And no stew in the oven.

Oh, well, uh, chops.

Actually, I'd rather prefer chops.

There aren't any chops, either.

Oh, well, anything, really.

I'm not fussy.

Couldn't you whip something up?

No, Rumpole, I'm not whipping anything up.

I waited for you until nearly half past 9:00.

Then I went out for a bridge lesson with Marigold Featherstone.

Ah, yes, I'm sorry.

There was a problem in chambers.

I had to comssimerate with-- I had to-- I had to commiserate with Henry.

Yes, I suspect you did.

No doubt that meant carousing with him, too.

Oh, well, I had to carouse a bit in order to caz-- to sympathize with him.

Daddy would have drawn the line at carousing with his clerk.

Ah, yes, well, your-- your daddy wasn't really one to-- to carouse with anybody, was he?

Let us hope that you drew the line this time at singing.

Oh, no, no, no.

No, certainly we did not sing.

No, things had gone well beyond singing.

No, I did recite a bit of poetry.

Oh, look, Hilda, couldn't you turn your hand to a bit of cookery?

No, Rumpole, I'm finished with cooking for you when you don't come in until all hours.

I'm sorry, but this is the end of the line.

Hilda, you're not leaving home?

No, Rumpole, I'm not leaving home.

Oh, good.

Good.

I am taking industrial action, withdrawing my labor.

Oh, Hilda, not you too.

And so far as the brick dust on our client's trousers goes, we have a complete answer.

Don't tell them what it is.

Where the brick dust comes from, Mr. Bernard, is surely a matter for the jury.

My sentiments entirely.

But he was building a wall, sir.

So there's no evidence.

Mr. Bernard, I have here a statement from a Mr. Gerald Jebb saying that he saw your client hurl the brick.

But, Sir, what about the presumption of innocence?

Oh, very well, Mr. Bernard.

What of it?

With the evidence in doubt, my client is entitled to an acquittal.

That is the golden thread that runs through British justice.

We are, all of us, innocent until you can be certain sure that we must be guilty.

And I put it to you, Sir, in my humble submission, it is my contention that you couldn't find my client guilty on a charge of a non-renewed dog license, on the vague and unsatisfactory evidence of this fellow, Jebb.

Not now, darling.

We don't do that bit now.

Mr. Bernard, your client will be committed to trial at the Central Criminal Court before a jury and a judge.

As you please, sir.

I very much hope he's a judge with no prejudice against trade unions.

They think they're above the law, these union bosses do.

Over and above it.

I don't know what the country's coming to, Wilfred.

The summer of discontent, that's what I call it.

Brings to mind the French Revolution, my lord.

Does it, Wilfred?

Oh, well, yes, I suppose it does.

I'll tell you one thing.

Old Rumpole is not going to get away with it again.

With the French Revolution, my lord?

Don't be silly.

With manslaughter.

You know there's a sort of legend going on around the Bailey that old Rumpole gets away with it all the time.

Even my wife.

Even Lady Featherstone seems to think old Rumpole can twist me round his little finger.

A very astute lady, if I may say so, my lord.

Be that as it may, Wilfred, he's not going to get away with this one.

I've been taking a good look at union boss Baker, and I don't like what I see.

I'm going to pot him good and proper.

[laughs] In off the red.

[laughter] Yes, he'll find he won't be able to go on strike in prison.

[knocking] Yes?

Guthrie.

Oh, Simon.

A moment of your valuable time, if you please.

Come in.

Come in.

Now, look here.

It's about these dotty schemes of the Lord Chancellor.

No, no, no.

Do stay, Alfred.

- Wilfred, my lord.

- Yes, of course.

We'd value your opinion.

Potty, my lord.

All the clerks think so.

Solicitors in the top court, solicitors sitting on the bench, solicitors in the House of Lords, before we know where we are overturning our judgments.

Oh, I do so agree.

I mean, some of my best friends are solicitors.

Oh, are they indeed?

But-- oh, well, not my most intimate friends, of course, but well, perfectly good acquaintances.

And I certainly don't want to have to hear them going on talking all the time.

I mean, you and I heard enough of that sort of thing when we were at the bar.

[laughs] Guthrie, I'm so glad you're sound on this one.

Oh, yes, I am, perfectly, Sir.

Now, speaking as the senior judge on the circuit-- GUTHRIE: Yes, indeed you are, Simon.

You are the most senior judge.

A few of us plan to rise early and meet this afternoon, Mavings from the Court of Appeal and old Egbert from Chancery, and I suppose a chap from the family division, if we have to.

I mean, we've got to take some sort of action.

What do you mean?

You mean our jobs are at risk?

Well, I mean, who knows?

Anything could happen.

Could you make yourself free?

Let them try and stop me.

Sound fellow.

2 o'clock then in my room in the law courts.

We value your support.

- Well, thank you, Simon.

- Cheerio.

Thank you.

Most awfully.

Did you hear that, Wilfred?

Our jobs are at risk.

The summer of discontent.

That's what I call it.

[quirky music] From your position on the picket line, did you see the defendant Baker stoop down?

My lord, I didn't know that leading questions were allowed, even in cases against trade union officials.

Leading questions are not allowed in any case, Mr. Rumpole, as you know perfectly well.

Yes, carry on, Mr. Ballard.

I'm obliged, your lordship.

What did you see Baker do?

He stooped down, and he picked up a brick, my lord.

And he hurled it at the coach driver.

Did he hurl it hard?

Oh, Mr. Ballard!

JEBB: He hurled it with full force, my lord.

He hurled it with full force at the driver.

Thank you, Mr. Jebb.

Have you any questions for this witness, Mr. Rumpole?

Mr. Jebb, you said that you saw my client stoop to the ground.

Yes, I did.

Had he not just jumped out of the path of a moving charabanc?

Well, he got out of its way, yes.

And wasn't the driver doing his best to kill him?

I'm not sure what he was doing.

Just as you're not sure what my client was doing when he stumbled and stooped to the ground.

He's just said that he saw your client pick up a brick and hurl it, Mr. Rumpole.

Oh, I'm sure my learned friend Mr. Ballard is most grateful to your lordship for that intervention.

Just one more thing.

You said nothing to the police at the time about seeing Mr. Baker hurl that brick.

You made your first statement some three weeks afterwards.

Why was that?

I didn't want to get Basher in trouble.

Oh, you got him into trouble now, haven't you?

Why did you change your mind?

Because I thought I should tell the truth.

GUTHRIE: "Because I thought I should tell the truth."

Well, have you finished, Mr Rumpole?

I may have some more questions for this witness later.

I'm waiting for certain instructions.

RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): I mean, I'm waiting for an inspiration.

Could my learned friend have Mr. Jebb available to be recalled?

He is clearly a vital witness.

I'm sure that with his usual fairness, Mr. Ballard will undertake to have him available.

You'll undertake to see that he's here, won't you, Mr. Ballard?

Just in case Mr. Rumpole can think of any further questions.

Certainly, my lord.

The inspector foresees no difficulty.

Mr. Jebb, before you go, you referred to the defendant as Basher.

The jury might like to know how he acquired that nickname.

My lord, I must object.

That is quite irrelevant.

I overrule your objection, Mr. Rumpole.

Of course.

He was always talking about bashing people, especially them on the boss's side.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Jebb.

That was extremely helpful.

RUMPOLE (VOICEOVER): About as helpful as a cup of cold porridge, old darling.

Now, Mr. Ballard, Mr. Rumpole.

RUMPOLE: My lord.

I'm afraid I shan't be able to sit this afternoon.

Oh, may we ask why, my lord?

No.

No?

Well, I mean, yes.

Yes, of course.

It's an important matter, a matter of public duty.

I will rise now.

Be upstanding.

Shot off like a rabbit out of a trap.

Exactly what kind of "public duty" do you think?

Sorry, Rumpole.

Lunch with Dave Inchcape.

Isn't she looking delicious today?

Who?

Your learned junior, Rumpole.

It's the contrast, isn't it, between the impish little face and the strict white wig?

No disrespect to your cross-examination, Rumpole, but I couldn't take my eyes off her.

How's your wife, Erskine-Brown?

- Phylli?

- Hmm.

Well, doing a rather grand corruption in Hong Kong.

We see so little of each other nowadays.

You want to take Ms. Liz Probert to the opera again, don't you?

She'd never come.

She doesn't really like me very much, does she, Rumpole?

I mean, the way she ticks me off at the chambers meeting.

Look, I-- I don't want you to get the wrong idea about this.

What I have in mind is merely a social event, entirely innocent.

You do believe that, don't you?

Yes, of course, Claude.

Everyone's innocent until they're proven guilty.

Look, um, I might just be able to help you.

Help me, Horace?

Yes, it is true.

I do have a little influence with my former pupil, Ms. Liz Probert.

And despite my bad luck in not being born a member of an ethnic minority or female or a one-parent family, she does sometimes take my advice.

Do you think you could advise her, Horace?

Of course, I couldn't connive at anything but a purely musical evening.

Purely musical, I promise you.

Scout's honor.

Oh, well, I'll try to do my best and do a good deed for someone every day.

♪ There'll be bluebirds over ♪ ♪ The White Cliffs of Dover ♪ ♪ Tomorrow ♪ ♪ Just you wait and see ♪ ♪ There'll be joy and laughter ♪ ♪ And something ever after ♪ ♪ Tomorrow when the world is free ♪ ♪ The ship ♪ The ship-- the ship-- the ship-- the ship-- [beans scattering] Ah!

[blowing] [flames crackling] Ah!

Rumpole, shall I call the fire brigade?

Ah, not necessary any longer.

I was just cooking dinner.

Really?

I thought you were arranging an interesting collection of fossils.

Oh, look, Hilda, I've had absolutely no training in this line of work.

Well, you should have thought of that, Rumpole, before you decided to stay out all hours.

Look, couldn't we refer it to the ACAS conciliation service or-- or discuss it over beer and sandwiches like they used to do in the old days?

[bell rings] What's that?

It sounds extraordinarily like a front door bell.

I'll go.

If you put those potatoes on now, you could have them for pudding.

DENNIS: Yeah, well, we never have met, Mrs. Rumpole.

And after all your old man's done for the Timson family.

A friend of yours, apparently, Rumpole.

Well, Dennis.

Dennis Timson, how are you?

Senior member of the Timson clan.

Notorious family of South London villains that have kept us in saucepan scourers and suchlike little luxuries for the last 30 years.

Villains?

Oh, naughty boys.

That's what your husband means, dear.

It runs in the family.

Oh, god, I'm tickled pink to meet your old ball and chain, Mr. Rumpole.

Oh, well, you know, I was in the vicinity.

Oh, not to get up to any naughtiness, Mrs. R. Oh, you know, I wasn't doing over the downstairs or nothing.

But I thought I'd pop up on the off chance, having some info that might be of interest to your husband.

Oh, well, sit down.

Sit.

Why not stay to supper?

Hilda hasn't eaten yet.

Oh, thank you.

No.

No, I shall have some cheesy bits at Lady Featherstone's bridge lesson.

Goodbye, Mr. Shrimpton.

I don't suppose you'll be here when I get back.

I'll-- I'll see you out.

Thank you, Rumpole.

I can find my way out of my own flat.

I'm sorry, Dennis.

My-- my wife had a previous engagement.

Yeah, well, I'll call at your place of business, Mr. Rumpole.

But your boy Henry, he said you was out buying groceries.

I said, I find that hard to believe.

Ah, yes, well, difficult times, Dennis.

They call it the summer of discontent.

Well, now, what is it?

Got yourself a little bit of trouble, have you?

No.

Oh, no.

Well, not at the moment.

Oh, well.

Oh, you're not on strike too, are you?

No, god, no.

Of course not.

No, matter of fact, I thought I might be able to help you, Mr. Rumpole.

- Oh, really?

Yes, I thought I might tell you about our holiday in Marbella.

Oh, got some snaps to show me, have you?

As a matter of fact, I have brought one along.

Ah.

You see, our enjoyment was just a little bit spoiled by the arrival of this shower.

Hey, isn't that the Molloy family?

DENNIS: Including young Peanuts.

And in view of this case you're working on, as reported in the paper, I thought you might be interested in the Molloys' vehicle.

"Ernie Elver's Luxie Charas, complete with toilets and double glazing."

And young Peanut.

Yes, you'll notice the gray-haired old party with his arm around Peanut, his aunt Dolly.

By god, I notice him!

Yeah, Jerry Jebb.

Used to drive getaway for Peanut's father.

You know what I mean?

Did he indeed?

Oh, you're a treasure, Dennis.

Bless you, old love.

Can I keep that?

Yeah, sure.

Look, why not stay to supper?

Uh, no, I don't think so, Mr. Rumpole.

Look, why don't we attack a chink?

What are you talking about?

Well, go to a Chinese.

If you want a radical chambers, Liz, the only way you'll get it is to persuade Claude Erskine-Brown to stop trying to be a whiz kid.

Go back to the good old ways.

Equity Court will be a place fit for freelancers again.

We can ride forth and rescue the brothers.

And who's going to persuade Claude?

The person with the most influence on him.

A member of the bar he'd do anything to impress.

You mean you?

No, you.

Tell him you liked him better when he was an old-fashioned sort of lawyer, preserving the best traditions of the bar, taking snuff.

Tell him he was sexier like that.

Rumpole, are you suggesting I use my femininity?

It's all in a good cause.

And put up with a bit of Wagner in the interests of justice.

[chuckles] Ah, Wilfred.

Is the judge going to honor us with his presence this morning?

Bless you, yes, Mr. Rumpole.

We're not going on strike yet.

On strike?

We think it may come to it.

That's what our judge was saying.

If the Lord Chancellor wishes to put up a solicitor over our heads, we may have to take action.

Oh, quite right, too.

So yesterday afternoon?

Just a taste, Mr. Rumpole.

Just to show the public we're not going to be pushed around.

Of course, there was a meeting.

A union meeting?

A meeting of judges, Mr. Rumpole.

Some of the senior men were there, including ourselves.

Ah, yes, the brothers.

[laughs] You ever thought of that, Wilfred?

Judges and trade unionists call themselves brothers.

It doesn't mean they like each other.

Well, Mr. Rumpole, I must go and get us on the bench.

Ah, yes.

Must be a bit of a heave for you on some mornings.

And, Mr. Rumpole, you will try not to twist us around your finger, won't you?

Say again?

Because we're determined to pot you this time.

I thought we should warn you.

Oh, how very charming of you, Wilfred.

Very charming, indeed.

[clamoring on television] MAN (ON TV): What do you think you're doing?

Stop!

I call upon my learned friend, Mr. Ballard.

Ballard!

RUMPOLE: Makes no difference.

I still call upon him to make the following admission that the dark-haired young man on that picket line wearing the red jacket is Mr. Peter, known as Peanuts Molloy.

Well, I don't suppose your learned friend has any idea.

Then let him ask the detective inspector in charge of the case.

He will very soon find out.

That would seem to be correct, my lord.

[quirky music] This dispute at your charabanc garage was about your employing non-union, untrained drivers?

ELVER: That's what they said it was.

And my client took the view, rightly or wrongly, that if you employed these cowboys, there might be an accident.

Someone might get killed.

Now, I suggest that even the most gentle, mild-mannered man might take industrial action and withdraw his labor in that situation.

Take his lordship.

Mr. Rumpole?

Did you know, Mr. Elver, that the powers-that-be have suggested that solicitors might get jobs as judges, High Court judges, appeal judges, lords of appeal.

Mr. Rumpole, these questions are quite irrelevant.

And speaking of appeals, is your lordship stopping my cross-examination?

No, no, no, no, of course, I'm not stopping you.

It's just that I fail to see-- Might I suggest your lordship sits quietly?

All will become clear.

Mr. Rumpole, don't think that you can twist this court around your little finger.

My little finger?

Perish the thought!

Well, now, Mr. Elver, solicitors as judges.

That is the suggestion.

I didn't know.

Well, you know now.

And that suggestion caused even such a reasonable, sensible, moderate man as his lordship to go on strike.

On strike, Mr. Rumpole?

What are you talking about?

Well, yesterday afternoon, my lord.

I seem to remember that not very much work was done.

Was not your lordship on strike?

No, I was not on strike.

Simply withdrawing your labor?

As I told the court, I had to go to an important meeting.

Yes, you did, my lord.

You told us that.

Oh, keep out of this, Ballard.

With a very senior judge and brother judges from the Chancery and family division.

Ah, yes, the shop stewards.

What was the discussion about, my lord?

Mr. Rumpole, are you cross-examining me?

RUMPOLE: Cross-examining your lordship?

Heaven forfend!

Of course, I can understand that.

if the judges are in dispute with their employers, then it is a delicate matter, better kept secret.

Well, I-- I don't think it is any secret that certain changes have been proposed in the legal system.

Cowboys on the bench, my lord.

Well, no, not perhaps not quite, but certainly people whose training may not exactly fit them for-- And if these changes are implemented, are we to expect further industrial action down the Old Bailey?

Well, it's a possibility.

I-- I hope that wiser counsel will prevail.

Now, come along, Mr. Rumpole.

That's quite enough of that.

High Court judges are not, nor have they ever been members of a trade union.

Is that a legal proposition, my lord, or a subject for debate?

Could you get back to the question we have to try?

Did your client commit manslaughter?

I was merely venturing to suggest that when their jobs are threatened, even the most reasonable men will withdraw their labor.

I'm sure his lordship will agree.

Do you not think that that is a reasonable proposition, Mr. Elver?

I suppose so.

RUMPOLE: But you wanted to make it look as unreasonable as possible, didn't you?

Why would I want to do that?

RUMPOLE: Well, childishly simple, Mr. Elver.

Because if you could prove there were more than six pickets, you could get an injunction.

If you could prove that there was violence and intimidation, you could get the union fined large sums of money.

And you could get rid of that thorn in your flesh, Mr. Basher Baker, and hire as much cheap cowboy labor as you wanted!

But there was violence on the picket line.

Of course, there was, because you put it there!

Usher.

Would you give that to the witness?

You know the Molloy family, don't you?

Not sure.

RUMPOLE: Oh, come on now, Mr. Elver.

You employ one of their relations, Jerry Jebb.

They're a pretty hard firm of criminals, well known to the inspector here.

You hired the Molloy family, didn't you?

To swell the picket line and create as much violence as possible!

And then when you'd arranged the performance, you videotaped it all from your office window.

Baker was in charge of the picket line.

Of the peaceful pickets, yes.

He did not know the new arrivals.

He took those for sympathetic workers from other firms.

But in fact, they were your gang of hired troublemakers, weren't they?

Mr. Rumpole, are you suggesting that this witness planned the death of the driver?

Oh, no.

No, my lord.

No.

I'm sure Mr. Elver was as surprised as anyone when whoever threw that brick went too far.

Possibly young Peanut Molloy.

But it was a blessed opportunity to get the awkward Mr. Baker into real trouble.

How much did it cost you to get Jebb to give that perjured evidence?

My lord, I object.

There is no basis-- Or did you get it in a package deal for a free holiday in Marbella?

Look at that photograph.

Isn't that one of your luxury charas in Spain?

It seems to be.

RUMPOLE: Yes.

Do you see Jerry Jebb there?

And young Peanut?

And the rest of the Molloy clan?

ELVER: Yes.

Was that a free holiday, a present from your firm?

I don't think so.

Well, do you have evidence that the Molloys paid for the coach?

Maybe not.

RUMPOLE: Why not?

Well, Jerry Jebb had been with the firm a long time.

I wanted to do him a favor.

And he did you one in return.

Mr. Rumpole, none of this has been put to the witness Jebb.

Your lordship is perfectly right.

That is why I have asked for the witness Jebb to be recalled.

Very well.

Oh, I see it's a little early, but I will rise now.

A public duty, my lord?

Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

Public duty.

You may put your questions to Mr. Jebb in the morning.

I am much obliged to your lordship.

Court will rise.

♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here ♪ Did you say something, Mr. Rumpole?

I said, what an interesting case we're trying here, my lord.

Working hard, Guthrie?

Marigold.

Or are you taking industrial action?

There you are.

Oh, well, hard day in court, you know?

And happened to rise a little early.

What was that about industrial action?

I've been reading the paper.

Oh, yes, of course.

Bit about my case in it, is there?

Yes, a very interesting discussion about trade union law.

Well, I'll tell you this, Marigold.

I'm going to pot that shop steward.

Old Rumpole isn't going to twist me around his little finger this time.

It seems he's already twisted you.

What?

No, let me see.

Aren't you fit to be let off the lead, Guthrie?

Ought I to be up there beside you on the bench all the time, telling you when to keep your mouth shut?

Why?

What am I supposed to have done?

Well, let-- let-- let me see.

Well come on.

What am I supposed to have said?

"'Industrial action by judges is a possibility.'

said Mr. Justice Featherstone, 53, 'if jobs on the bench are open to solicitors.'"

Did you say that, Guthrie, dear?

Well, something like it, I suppose.

Yes, something very like it.

"The judge agreed with Mr. Horace Rumpole, counsel for Baker, that he had been withdrawing his labor yesterday afternoon when he closed down his court to attend a protest meeting of senior judges, whom he called shop stewards."

Well, that's-- that's a libel.

It was Rumpole who called them that.

Sounds a pretty accurate description, if you ask me.

There's a leading article on page five.

A leading article?

"Judges add to nation's misery."

Oh, Marigold, it's simply not fair.

"Train drivers, air traffic controllers, local government workers.

prison officers, and drain clearance operatives--" Drain clearance operatives?

MARIGOLD: Charming company you keep, Guthrie. "

--have all managed to put the public through the hell of a summer of discontent.

'Now, if you go mad and strangle a porter when you've been waiting three days for a train at Waterloo, you won't even be tried for it,' according to Mr. Justice Featherstone, who also went on strike yesterday afternoon."

Ugh!

"Come off it, your lordships.

Drop the old Spanish practices and offer the public a decent service."

Marigold, it's all the fault of Rumpole.

MARIGOLD: Of course it is!

Why can't you twist him round your little finger for a change?

You're bigger than he is.

Well, I shall deny it all in court.

Oh, do.

Then everyone will believe it.

I had to read this paper at lunch in Harrods, at the silver grill.

I was deeply humiliated.

Oh, Marigold, I'm-- I'm so sorry.

I bought you a present.

Oh, have you, darling?

I knew you'd understand.

Oh, yes.

I understand perfectly.

It's your flat hat, Guthrie.

Now you can go down the working men's club and play darts over a pint of wallop with the charge hands.

I'm going to my bridge class with Hilda Rumpole.

Her husband may have his drawbacks, but at least she's not married to a shop steward.

[door closes] Oh, brother.

[chatter] This is how I like you.

You do like me a little, Elizabeth?

When you're like this.

Like what?

Your old English barrister.

Oh?

I-- I'm not particularly old, actually.

Not exactly old.

Old fashioned, Claude.

That's what I meant.

Oh, I see.

You like that, do you?

I should have thought you wouldn't.

It's like the old-fashioned elegance I admire, the English gent, the bow tie and all that.

It's rather sweet.

Actually, it's an old Wykehamist bow tie.

Is it really?

I wouldn't wear it in the daytime, of course.

It goes rather well with a great evening out like this.

You're charming when you look like a good old traditional barrister.

You know, the sort that takes snuff.

Snuff?

Yes.

You think I ought to take snuff?

As a simple, working-class girl, Claude, I do find that sort of thing a wild turn on.

Oh, do you really?

Snuff, eh?

Well, I suppose I might give it a sniff.

Out of a little silver box.

I'd find that irresistible.

Oh, and stop trying to be a whiz kid, talking about slimming down and productivity targets.

Sounds like some naff little middle manager in a suit.

Horribly unsexy.

Elizabeth, is that why you went off me?

And consumer choice.

Consumer choice is absolutely yuck.

You know what I love about you.

Claude?

Love?

Please, Elizabeth, tell me.

You being so square and vague and beautifully unbusinesslike and sort of dusty.

Dusty?

In the nicest possible way.

Dreamy, with all sorts of ideals.

You do believe in freelance barristers, don't you, Claude?

I believe in them passionately, Elizabeth.

Radical ones, too, of course.

Why don't you say so at the next chambers meeting?

That is, of course, if you're not too much in awe of Ballard.

In awe of Ballard?

I'll show you if I'm in awe of Ballard.

Elizabeth, do you suppose we might ever sing the love duet together?

Not now, Claude.

When?

Maybe after the next chambers meeting.

My lord, I gave the court an undertaking that the witness, Gerald Jebb, would return today.

He was warned that he must be available.

But I regret to inform the court that the witness Jebb has vanished.

Surprise, surprise.

Vanished, Mr. Ballard?

Yes, the inspector thinks he has probably left the country.

Try Marbella.

And my lord, the flight of this witness-- for it can only be described as a flight-- must cast considerable doubt upon his evidence.

If it can be described as evidence.

Our inquiries have also disclosed that the defendant was in fact laying bricks in his garden, which could account for the brick dust on his clothing.

In view of this, I therefore feel it would not be right for the prosecution to persist with these charges.

Mr. Rumpole.

I'm sure we are all very grateful to my learned friend.

It is a wise decision.

And no doubt your lordship has other matters to attend to?

Yes, Mr. Rumpole.

I have an important meeting with the Lord Chancellor.

Lord Chancellor.

Ah, come along in, my dear old fellow.

[laughs] Sit you down.

A drink?

Oh, thank you.

Thank you.

Lord Chancellor, all this business about striking.

Ah, that's why I wanted to see you, Guthrie.

We really can't have judges going on strike, can we?

I mean, we just fined the Drain Cleaning Operatives a quarter of a million for not taking a ballot.

Do you have that sort of money in your trousers?

[laughs] No, no, no, no, no.

No, of course not.

I think the judges are all pretty well agreed, Lord Chancellor, that should it come to a ballot, they might, well, take action.

Oh, dear.

Oh, my ears and whiskers.

I don't think the cabinet will like that, the idea of the judges on a picket line with an election coming up.

I don't think the-- the cabinet are going to be attracted by that.

Got a cloth cap, have you?

Well, yes, as a of fact, I have.

Oh, well, a little something to eat?

Beer and sandwiches.

Sometimes, the old fashioned ways are best.

Now, look here.

I don't wish to quarrel with you fellows.

And I don't really know why these solicitor chaps want to be judges anyway.

Oh, I quite agree.

I mean, they make much more money sitting in their offices, selling houses.

Or whatever it is they do.

GUTHRIE: Well, exactly.

In fact, I don't know why anyone should want to be a judge, unless, of course, their practice is a bit rocky.

That's your trouble, was it?

No, certainly not.

I felt a call.

Public duty.

Well, I suppose your wife likes it.

But no more talk about going on strike, eh?

What do you say we leave the whole question of solicitors joining the judges for the judges to decide?

Super.

I'm thinking along those lines.

Good to talk to you, Guthrie.

Thank you, Lord Chancellor.

Now, why don't you try the cheese and tomato?

[chuckles] With all due respect to you, Ballard, aren't we in danger of throwing out the baby with the bathwater?

We mustn't lose our freedom, our eccentricity.

That's what makes us, us barristers, so attractive.

Ever since the Middle Ages, we have been the great freelancers, the independent radicals, the champions of freedom against tyranny and oppression wheresoe'er it may be.

We must preserve at all costs the great old British tradition.

Erskine-Brown, am I to understand that I can no longer count on your support in getting chambers efficient business wise?

No, Ballard, I'm afraid you no longer have my support on this one.

Does that mean we're not getting a new coffee machine?

Yes, Uncle Tom, I'm rather afraid it does.

Oh, good.

Let's stop trying to be a lot of whiz kids, talking about slimming down and productivity targets.

It makes us sound like awful little middle managers in suits.

Yuck.

[sniffing] [sneezing] I say, that's a terrible cold you've got, old man.

[door shuts] [exhales] Roast beef.

Yorkshire pudding.

Peace has broken out.

Poor Marigold Featherstone.

She was so upset when Guthrie went on strike.

Do you know what she bought him?

A cloth cap.

Rather fabulous.

But there are certain people at the top who really shouldn't go on strike, in the public interest.

People like judges and generals and-- Decision makers of all kinds.

So I finally thought that going on strike really wasn't on.

Distinctly off, hmm?

It's just not the sort of thing that people like me and Guthrie should do.

You wouldn't buy me a cloth cap, would you, Rumpole?

Perish the thought.

And then I thought, it's a long time since you had a nice Yorkshire pudding.

Oh, Hilda, thank you.

Thank you very much!

Yes, well, sit down, Rumpole.

You don't want it to get cold, do you?

After all the trouble I've been to.

Sit down, Rumpole.

She who must be obeyed.

[theme music] ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪