[theme music] ♪ ♪ TONY TIMSON: You ain't wearing your black leatherette trousers.

You ain't even going.

APRIL TIMSON: I am going-- TONY TIMSON: I'm the man-- APRIL TIMSON: Oh, you're the man.

Ooh, I'm so-- [indistinct arguing] TONY TIMSON: You asked for it.

APRIL TIMSON: (SCREAMING) Murderer!

TONY TIMSON: I'm telling you, you ain't going.

I'm go-- [spits] Murderer!

[siren wailing] [indistinct police radio] [tires screech] TONY TIMSON: You get back in here.

Thank God.

He's only trying to bloody murder me.

April, what are you playing at?

[grunts] Hold on, Tony, son.

You're not going anywhere in a hurry.

[bang] Attempted murder.

What on earth have you been up to, Tony Timson?

April told me-- Please, you've always led a quiet and respectable life as far as I can remember.

There's nothing more sensational in your criminal record than nicking freezer packs and video recorders.

April told me she was planning on wearing her skin-tight leatherette trousers with the revealing halterneck satin top.

That's what she said she was wearing, Mr. Rumpole.

A somewhat tasteless outfit.

Not entirely haute couture.

That doesn't entitle you to drown your wife.

We was both invited to a party around her friend Chrissie's.

And that was the outfit she was planning on wearing.

She says you pulled her legs, and so she became submerged.

The Brides of the Bath, the very method.

And you hit on it with practically no legal experience.

What were you doing in the same bath, anyway?

Well, we've always shared, since we was courting.

Don't all marry couples?

Thankfully, no.

I can't speak for Mr. Bernard.

Er, out of the question, I'm afraid.

My wife has a hip.

Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Bernard.

I'm really sorry.

Oh, that's all right, Mr. Timson.

We're down for a replacement.

Yeah, April likes me to sit up the tap end so I can rinse her hair off after a shampoo.

Anyway, she found her end that much more comfortable.

Ah, she makes you sit at the tap end, does she?

I never made no objection, although you can get your back a bit scalded and them taps just dig into you sometimes.

So you were on friendly terms when you entered the water?

Oh, yes.

She was all right then.

Yeah, we was both, well, affectionate, you know, looking forward to the party.

Like, she washed her hair, as per usual.

And I rinsed it off for her.

And then she told me who was going to be at the party.

Mr. Peter Molloy, Mr. Rumpole.

It's in the brief.

Oh, well-- yes.

Well, I haven't had time to, uh, to read your brief in depth, Mr. Bernard.

I wanted to hear the story fresh from the client.

Peanuts Molloy.

Miss Probert, we have a defense.

Tony Timson's wife was taking him to a party which was attended by Peanuts Molloy.

Does that make it all right for him to drown her?

Er, Miss Liz Probert will be taking notes for me in this case.

Forget everything you've learned, but remember that the Timson family and the clan Molloy have been deadly rivals ever since-- well, the south of London area was laid down to pasture.

And they were feuding over the division of stolen sheep.

It weren't just that, Mr. Rumpole.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Well, what else was it?

Well, I'd rather not, if you don't mind.

Well, I do mind.

It's humiliating to my pride what she said.

Oh, for heaven's sake, Tony.

Come on, let's hear the worst.

When I said we weren't going, like, she made a comparison between me and Peanuts.

HORACE RUMPOLE: What sort of comparison?

Between-- well, I can't.

There's ladies present.

Oh, Tony.

Look, Miss Liz Probert has not only practiced in the criminal court, but in the family division.

She is active in support of gay and lesbian rights in her native Islington.

She marches on occasion in support of abortion on demand.

She even reads the woman's page in The Guardian.

So you see, you and I need to have no secrets from Miss Liz Probert.

Now, tell me about the comparison your wife made between you and Peanuts Molloy.

The comparison was made on the topic of virility.

I'm sorry, Miss.

That's quite all right.

What we need, I don't know whether you agree, Mr. Rumpole, is a predominance of men on the jury.

Under-endowed males would condone the attempted murder of a woman, you mean.

Oh, please, Miss Probert, let's approach this problem in a spirit of detachment.

What we need is a sympathetic judge who doesn't want to waste time on a long case.

Have we got a fixed date for this?

Oh, it is attempted murder, Mr. Rumpole.

So we're booked before Mr. Justice Featherstone.

[whistles] Ah, now, is this a long case?

Sit down, sit down.

I'm bidden to take tea in the neighborhood of Victoria.

Can you fellows guess where?

Sorry, Judge, I give up.

The station buffet?

Oh, isn't that you all over, Horace?

You will have your little joke.

Not far off, though.

Buck House.

Her Majesty has invited me-- oh, no.

Correction, commanded me to a royal garden party.

(MUTTERS) God save the Queen.

And not only Her Majesty, but more seriously, one's lady wife will be extremely put out if one does not parade in gray top hat order.

(MUTTERS) He's blaming it on his wife.

So, naturally, one must be free by lunchtime.

Mr. Hearthstoke, is this a long case from the prosecution point of view?

It's an extremely serious case, Judge.

Attempted murder.

We put it down for a week.

A week?

I'm astonished by what my learned friend Hearthrug says.

Hearthstoke.

Well, have it your own way.

A little common sense, we can be through with this in half an hour.

Thereby saving public time and money.

Exactly.

As you know, Judge, it's an article of my religion that I never plead guilty.

But knowing all the facts, I'd be prepared to persuade Timson to put his hands up to a-- a common assault.

He'd agree to be bound over to keep the peace.

Common assault?

Binding over?

Hold on a minute.

He tried to drown her.

Judge, he was seated at the tap end of the bath, his wife lying back comfortably in the depths, passed an extremely wounding remark about my client's virility.

Do you mean to say that this woman insisted-- [snoring] --that her husband sat with his back squashed up against the taps?

Yes, she made him sit there so that he could rinse off her hair.

Mr. Hearthrug-- er, I mean Stoke.

[snoring] [slap] Is this one of the facts that's agreed by the prosecution?

I can't say that it makes the slightest difference.

Oh, you can't see?

Horace, was this woman's conduct in any way typical of her attitude towards her husband?

I'm afraid so, Judge.

Entirely typical.

Rumpole?

So what you're saying is that he deeply resented the position in which he found himself?

What married man wouldn't, Judge?

And this natural resentment led to a purely domestic dispute.

Such as might occur in the best of bathrooms.

And you're quite content to be bound over to keep the peace?

Well, reluctantly.

But I would accept that restriction on my client's liberty.

Liberty to drown his wife.

(MUTTERS) Miss Probert.

Mr. Hearth-stoke, my compliments to those instructing you.

But in my opinion, it would be a gross waste of public funds if you were to continue with this charge of attempted murder.

Good.

Well, I think we should be through by half past 11:00.

(MUTTERS) Plenty of time to get to Moss Bros. Er, what-- what was that, Horace?

I-- I said my client at the time was very cross, boss-- er, Judge.

- Yes.

Well, of course.

I mean, the tap end, huh.

Well, I'll see you both in court.

Ah, after you, Miss Probert.

Oh, no, Rumpole, you're a man.

They always go first, don't they?

[sigh] HORACE RUMPOLE: That is all I have to say by way of mitigation, My Lord.

[clears throat] My Lord?

Yes?

Oh, thank you, Mr. Rumpole.

Will the accused stand?

Timson, I've heard about you and your wife's habit of taking a bath together.

It is not for the court to say whether communal bathing in times of peace, when it is not in the national interest to save water, is appropriate conduct in married life.

Chacun a son gout, as a wise Frenchman once said.

What throws a flood of light on this case is that you habitually sat at the tap end of the bath.

It seems you had a great deal to put up with.

And your wife, she, it appears from the evidence, washed her hair in the more placid waters of the other end.

I accept that this was purely a domestic dispute.

On the charge of common assault, to which you have pleaded guilty, you will be bound over to keep the peace and be of good behavior for a period of one year and the sum of 50 pounds.

If your lordship pleases, might Mr. Timson be released from custody?

Miss Probert.

50 pounds?

Is that the price of a woman?

It is not in the best traditions of the bar to bang your way out of court under any circumstances.

And when we've just had a famous victory, it's quite ridiculous.

A famous victory for men.

Man, woman, or child, it doesn't matter who the client is.

We did our best and won.

Because he was a man.

Why shouldn't he sit at the tap end?

I'm going to do something about this.

Miss Probert, where are you going?

To my branch of the woman's movement.

The protest has to be organized on a national level.

I'm sorry, Rumpole, the time for talking is over.

Oh, my ears and whiskers.

Poor old Guthrie Featherstone.

The Palace gardens looked absolutely super, I thought.

I knew these shoes were a mistake.

The flamingos were in excellent form.

One does appreciate the-- the occasional royal invitation.

I don't know why.

We didn't get within 100 yards of the queen.

I spent at least half an hour talking to some extremely uninteresting little man.

- Oh, yes.

Who was he?

He looked like an ambassador.

Ambassador, phooey.

Oh.

Person in charge of the Royal Train so far as I can make out.

And as for that one you thought was Fergie-- Now, there might just be a picture of arrivals at the Palace.

--I'd think she'd come with the catering.

Oh.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: What's in the paper, Guthrie?

Oh, nothing.

Absolute nonsense.

Er, nothing of any interest at all.

I think I'll just go and get changed.

Why are you trying to hide Hide it?

I'm not trying to hide it.

I just thought I'd take it and read it in the bath.

And get it all soggy?

No, let me have it, please, Guthrie.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: I told you there's-- Guthrie, I want to see what's in the paper.

It's all completely inaccurate, of course.

"Tap End Judge's Amazing Decision.

Because 29-year-old April Timson of Bexley Heath made her husband, Tony, sit at the tap end, the judge dismissed a charge of attempted murder against him."

Photograph's not even like that.

"It seems you had a good deal to put up with, 53-year-old Mr. Justice Featherstone told Timson, the 36-year-old window cleaner.

This is male chauvinism gone mad, said a spokesperson of the Islington Women's Organization.

There will be protests up and down the country and questions asked in Parliament.

No woman can sit safely in her bath while this judge continues on the bench."

Well, it's a travesty.

You know what these court reporters are like.

Head-over-heels in Guinness after lunch.

This must have been in the morning.

We were at the palace after lunch.

That gives an entirely false impression.

And I -- I'll-- I'll see that it's put right, Marigold.

[chuckles] I promise you.

I'll see that it's put right.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: I think you'd better, Guthrie.

[phone rings] Hello?

WOMAN (ON PHONE): Is that Lady Featherstone?

Speaking.

WOMAN (ON PHONE): Oh, this We're putting together a little feature arising out of the recent Timson trial.

And we just wondered, which end are you when you're sharing a bath with your husband?

Oh, Guthrie, what have you done to us?

[door slams] Who's that?

I am thy father's spirit.

Doomed for a certain term to walk the night.

And for the day confined to fast in fires, till the foul crimes done in my days of nature are burnt and purged away.

Good evening.

I suppose you think it's perfectly all right.

HORACE RUMPOLE: What is perfectly all right, Hilda?

Drowning wives like puppies.

I suppose you think that's perfectly acceptable.

Well, all I can say is, Rumpole, you better not try anything like that with me.

Hilda, the thought never crossed my mind.

Anyway, he didn't drown her.

He came nowhere near drowning her.

It was simply a domestic tiff in a bathroom.

Why should she have to sit at the tap end?

Well, why indeed?

And if she had and drowned him because of it, I would have defended her with equal skill and success.

There you are, you see!

Absolutely no prejudice when it comes to taking a brief.

So you think that men and women are entirely equal.

Everyone is equal in the dock, Hilda.

HILDA RUMPOLE: And in the home?

Oh, well, naturally.

Yes, of course.

Yes, naturally.

Although I suppose there are some born to command.

She Who Must Be-- What?

I said, trust me, Hilda.

I shall always be a staunch supporter of women's rights.

I'm glad to hear that.

I'm glad you're glad.

That means that you can do the weekly shop for us at Safeway's.

Hilda, I'd really love that.

That would be the most tremendous fun.

Unfortunately, I have to earn the boring stuff that pays for the weekly shop.

I shall be at the service of my masters.

Husbands who try to drown their wives.

And vice versa.

HILDA RUMPOLE: They have late night shopping on Thursdays, so it won't cut into your work time at all.

Only your drinking time at Pomeroy's Wine Bar.

Besides which, I shall be far too busy from now on to do any shopping.

Oh, really, Hilda?

What on earth are you planning to do?

Well, someone has to stand up for women's rights against the likes of you and Guthrie Featherstone, Rumpole.

I shall read for the bar.

Oi, where do you think you're going?

Out.

Where out?

You mind your own business.

Vincent, where do you think you're going?

You mind your own business.

That's two rum, one Advocaat, three raspberry crush, and a Campanella.

Oh, yeah, creme de cacao and a three-star cognac.

And while you're at it, a large packet of salted peanuts.

Mm, it's going to be quite a party.

PEANUTS MOLLOY: You can say that again, darling.

How's that wally of a husband of yours behaving?

Quiet at the moment.

Bound over.

That judge was out of his head.

[engine rumbling] [crowd booing] [crowd chanting] Don't worry, My Lord.

They can't get rid of you, not without an act of Parliament.

Thank you, Wilfred.

That's a great comfort.

[door knock] Come.

Ah, the learned shorthand writer.

You sent for me, My Lord.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Yes.

Yes, please, please come in.

Come in.

And sit down, Miss-- Miss Frinton, My Lord.

Miss Lorraine Frinton.

Yes, of course.

Miss Frinton.

Yes, indeed.

Well, it's-- it's about my judgment in R v. Timson.

I see you've brought your book.

I've been living in dread of it.

Oh, there's nothing to be nervous about.

I've been living in dread of someone pulling me up about my shorthand.

It's not my strongest suit, quite honestly.

No, Miss Frinton, but you are a shorthand writer.

[chuckles] Yes.

Yes, of course, you are.

Now, you're in no sort of trouble at all.

I'd just like you to turn to where I passed sentence and then if you would read it out.

"Timson, I have heard about you--" No, little further on, please.

"Jackie Asogu, a wise Frenchman."

Chacun a son gout!

I'm sorry, My Lord.

I didn't quite get the name.

Ca, ne fait rien.

How are you spelling that?

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Never mind.

A little-- a little further on, Miss Frinton.

Lorraine.

Now, I'm sure that you and I can come to some sort of arrangement.

About a full stop.

I've had drawn to my attention a copy of today's Times, in which I am reported as saying, "Timson, it seems you had a great deal to put up with.

And your wife, she, it appears from the evidence, washed her hair in the more placid waters," et cetera.

et cetera.

It is the full stop that has been misplaced.

Now, I have checked this very carefully with a learned shorthand writer, and she fully agrees with me.

Yes, I see her nodding her head.

Yes, indeed.

My judgment, in fact, read, "It seems you had a great deal to put up with and your wife."

Full stop.

What I intended to convey, and I would like the press to make a note of this, was that both Mr. and Mrs. Timson had a great deal to put up with, at opposite ends of the bath, of course.

Six of one, and half a dozen of the other.

Is that clear?

Clear as mud.

I certainly never said anything about being seated at the tap end of the bath being legal provocation for attempted murder.

I might have said that it was one of the facts that could have been brought to the jury's attention.

It might have thrown some light on this woman's attitude towards her husband.

What's he trying to do?

Get himself out of hot water.

But in the event the attempted murder charge was dropped-- He twisted my arm to drop it.

--so the entire tap end question is purely academic.

Timson pleaded guilty to a charge of common assault, and I sentenced accordingly.

Do you agree, Mr. Rumpole?

Oh, certainly, My Lord.

You gave him a very stiff binding over.

Have you anything to add, Mr. Hearthstoke?

No, My Lord.

Your Timson had better watch out from now on.

Inspector's ready to throw the book at him.

Well, Wilfred, I think my-- I think my statement on the Timson case this morning successfully pulled our chestnuts out of the fire, eh?

Do you, My Lord?

Oh, yes.

Put the newspaper straight for once.

Made them eat their words.

That learned shorthand writer has been such a help on this case.

What's her name?

Miss-- - Frinton, My Lord.

Of course.

Miss Lorraine Frinton.

Wilfred, do you think it would be appropriate for me to send Miss Frinton flowers?

No, My Lord.

Send her flowers.

I, My Lord?

Good heavens, yes.

God knows the judge's clerk has got little enough to do apart from sharpening pencils and going out for coffee.

Spread your wings, ring up Interflora.

Send Miss Frinton 20 pounds worth of-- oh, no.

Make that 15 pounds worth of assorted blooms.

Better still, send her a nice pot plant.

Pot plant, My Lord?

Yes, of course.

When things go wrong at the Old Bailey, I'm the first to complain.

So when a shorthand writer helps to sort out a judge's full stops, he, or in this case, she deserves to be rewarded.

Now, is there anything else?

I thought you might like to see today's Evening Standard, My Lord.

Oh, yes, yes.

Just a glance at the headlines.

What's this?

"Bath tub judge says it again.

Putting her husband at the tap end may be a factor to excuse the attempted murder of a wife."

Did I say that, Wilfred?

To the best of my recollection, My Lord, yes.

[phone rings] Yes, sir?

Yes, indeed, sir.

This is his clerk speaking.

Who is it, Wilfred?

It's the Chancellor's office, My Lord.

The Lord Chancellor wishes to see you at your earliest convenience.

A bill through two houses of Parliament.

Would they do it to me, Wilfred?

Morning.

Good morning, Mr. Rumpole.

Morning, Horace.

Where's Henry?

Oh.

Mr. Rumpole.

Oh, you do look, my clerk, in a moved sort, as if you were dismayed.

Too right I am dismayed.

I've just had Mrs. Rumpole on the telephone, sir.

Oh, She Who Must Be want to speak with me, does she?

No, Mr. Rumpole, she wanted to speak with me.

She said I'd be clerking for her in the fullness of time.

Henry, there is no immediate cause for concern.

She said as she was reading for the bar to make sure that women get a bit of justice in the future.

If only Guthrie had kept quiet about the tap end in open court.

Every time he opens his mouth, he puts his foot in it.

Oh, your missus coming into chambers, Horace?

Don't worry, Uncle Tom.

Not in the foreseeable future.

My motto as a barrister's clerk, sir, is anything for a quiet life.

Well, my definition of a quiet life does not include clerking for Mrs. Hilda Rumpole.

Old Sneaky MacFarlane in Crown Office Row had a missus who came into his chambers.

She didn't come to practice, you understand.

She came to watch Sneaky.

She used to sit in the corner of his room and knit during all his conferences.

It seems she was dead scared he was going to get off with one of his female divorce petitioners.

Mrs. Hilda Rumpole has only just enrolled for a legal course in the Open University.

She can't yet tell provocation from self-defense or define manslaughter.

And you know what?

Mrs. MacFarlane went off with a co-respondent she'd met in one of these conferences.

Some awful dago, apparently, in black and white shoes.

Yes, so you see it doesn't do to have wives in chambers.

I meant to ask you, have you seen my copy of Ackerman's On The Cause Of Death?

I think Mr. Ballard borrowed it, sir.

Oh, did he?

So how long do they take, then, these courses for the Open University?

Years, Henry.

It's unlikely to happen in our lifetime.

Keith, from the Lord Chancellor's office, sounded you out about Guthrie Featherstone?

As the fellow who took over his chambers, he thought I might have a view.

And did you have a view?

No, I told him Guthrie was a perfectly charming chap, of course.

Oh, perfectly charming.

No doubt about that.

But as a judge, perhaps, he lacks judgment.

Yes, which is a pretty important quality in a judge.

Exactly.

And perhaps there is some lack of-- Gravitas?

Ha, the very word I used, Claude.

Yes, there was a bit of a lack of gravitas in chambers too.

I remember when Guthrie took a shine to a temporary typist.

So the upshot of it was-- Yes, what was the upshot?

SAMUEL BALLARD: I think we may be seeing a vacancy on the High Court Bench.

And old Keith was kind enough to drop a rather interesting hint.

- Really?

Mm.

He said they might be looking for a replacement from the same stables.

Meaning these chambers in Equity Court?

How could it mean anything else?

Sam, if you go on the bench, we should need another silk in chambers.

I don't see how they could possibly refuse you.

There's no doubt, Guthrie will have to go.

Mm.

He makes such injudicious remarks.

He was just like that at Marlborough.

Did you tell old Keith that?

I'll bet you did.

Rumpole, what on earth are you doing?

I've just been listening to the grand conspiracy.

Well, you must admit, Featherstone J has made the most tremendous boo-boo.

In the official view, he's been remarkably stupid.

Guthrie is not stupid.

As a matter of fact, he had a very good understanding of the case.

He came to a wise decision.

I daresay his judgment might have been more elegantly phrased if he hadn't been to Marlborough.

Let me tell you something, Ballard.

My wife, Hilda, has just embarked on a law course in the Open University.

She is a woman, as I know to my cost, of grit and determination.

And I expect to see her as the Lord Chief Justice of England before you get your bottom within a mile of the High Court Bench.

You're entitled to your opinion, of course.

Thank you.

SAMUEL BALLARD: And you got your fellow off.

Yes.

All I know for certain is the Lord Chancellor has summoned Guthrie Featherstone to appear before him.

Judgeitis, Featherstone.

Goes with piles-- an occupational hazard of the judicial function.

Judgeitis, Lord Chancellor?

Symptoms, pomposity, and self-regard.

Shows itself by unnecessary interruptions during proceedings or giving utterance to private thoughts far, far better left unspoken.

But I did correct the press report with reference to the shorthand writer.

Oh, I read that.

Far better to have left the thing alone.

Never give the newspapers a second chance.

That's my advice to you.

What's the cure for Judgeitis?

Banishment to a golf club where the sufferer may bore the members to death with recollections of his old triumphs on the Western Circuit.

You mean a bill through two houses of Parliament?

Oh, that's quite unnecessary.

I just get a judge in this room and say, look here, old fellow.

You've got it badly, judgeitis.

The press is after your blood.

And quite frankly, you're a profound embarrassment to us all.

Go out to Esher, old boy, I say, and improve your handicap.

I'll give it out that you're retiring early for reasons of health.

And then I'll make a speech defending the independence of the judiciary against scurrilous and unjustified attacks by the press.

I'm not very keen on golf.

Why not take up croquet?

I believe it's a top-hole retirement game.

Retirement?

Well, I-- I don't know how Marigold's going to take it.

Well, perhaps it may be postponed in your case.

I've talked it over with Keith.

Your right-hand man?

Exactly.

You may have the opportunity sometime in the future to make your peace with the women of England, Featherstone.

You may be able to put right what they regard as an injustice to one of their number.

You mean my retirement is off?

Or perhaps adjourned, sine die.

Indefinitely?

So glad you keep up with your Latin, Featherstone.

So many fellows don't.

Thank you, Lord Chancellor.

Ah, Keith, good to see you, old man.

Reprieve?

Oh, yes.

The Lord Chancellor couldn't have been more charming.

Good night, Guthrie.

Um, mind how you go.

Chrissie, what do you want?

I thought you ought to know, Tony.

It's not right.

What's not right?

Your April and Peanuts Molloy.

It's not right.

Oh, you're one to talk, aren't you, Chrissie?

April was going round yours to meet Peanuts at a party.

He just keeps coming round to mine.

I don't invite him.

I've got no time for Peanuts myself, quite honestly.

But him and your April, they're going out on dates.

Dates?

What do you mean dates?

He takes her out partying.

They're meeting tonight around the offie.

9:30 time she told me.

I don't mind if you don't.

Just thought you ought to know.

Can I help you?

No, thanks.

No, I'm all right.

[motorcycle engine] [glass shatter] [siren wailing] [indistinct police radio] What's the matter with you, Tony?

Can't you leave the women alone, son?

Oh.

Members of the jury, in this case, I appear to prosecute.

And the accused, Timson, is represented by my learned friends, Mr. Horace Rumpole and Miss Probert.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Oh, the women of England, gathered around the guillotine.

Do I hear somewhere the clicking of knitting needles?

An attack with this dangerous weapon upon a weak and defenseless woman.

Did you say a woman, Mr. Hearthstoke?

I'm afraid so, My Lord.

This man, Timson, attacked a woman?

My Lord, that is something for the jury to decide.

Thank you, Mr. Rumpole.

I'm quite aware of that.

All I can say is that, should the jury convict in this case, I take a very serious view of any sort of an attack upon a woman.

They were bathing, it wouldn't matter.

What was that, Mr. Rumpole?

I said "no laughing matter," My Lord.

Certainly not.

Would you care to proceed, Mr. Hearthstoke?

I'm not having old Rumpole twist me round his little finger in this case.

Very wise, if I may say so, My Lord.

Later we shall look at a plan of the premises-- HORACE RUMPOLE: Hearthrug wormed his way into our chambers.

Tried to turn us over to modern technology.

Does his cases by computer with a microchip on his shoulder.

And as I remember, the temporary affection of Miss Liz Probert.

Mm, perhaps not such a temporary affection after all.

--and turned out the lights.

Then we say, under cover of darkness, Timson coshed the unfortunate woman, Mrs. Ruby Churchill, whose evidence you will hear.

The accomplice escaped with most of the money from the till.

Timson, happily for justice, slipped and struck his head on the corner of the counter.

He was found in a half stunned condition with a cosh and some of the money.

When arrested by Detective Inspector Brush, he said, you got me this time then.

You may think that a clear admission of guilt.

[truck zooms by] You bastard.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Before you saw him in your shop on the night of the attack, did you know my client, Mr. Tony Timson?

Oh, yes.

I knew him.

He lives around the corner.

HORACE RUMPOLE: And you knew his wife, April Timson?

Yes, I knew her too.

And you'd seen her in your shop with her husband?

Sometimes with, sometimes without.

Ah, sometimes without.

Now, that's interesting.

Mr. Rumpole, do you have many more questions for this unfortunate lady?

Just a few, My Lord, yes.

Please, Mrs. Churchill, do sit down.

Make yourself comfortable.

I'm sure that we all admire the plucky way in which you're giving your answers as a woman.

As a woman, did you know that my client, Tony Timson, had been accused of trying to drown his wife in the bath?

My Lord, how can that possibly be relevant?

I was about to ask the same question.

I've got no idea what Mr. Rumpole's driving at.

I thought your lordship might recall the case.

It got a lot of newspaper comment at the time.

Oh, did it really?

Of course, in a busy life, one can't be expected to-- to read every little paragraph that finds its way into the newspapers.

Oh, well, this found its way slap across the front pages, My Lord.

Did it really?

Do you remember that, Mr. Hearthstoke?

I think I remember some rather ill-informed comment, My Lord.

Ill-informed, yes.

Yes, I'm sure it was.

One has so many cases coming before one.

Perhaps your memory is a little better than his lordship's, Mrs. Churchill.

You remember the case, don't you?

Oh, yes, I remember.

Mr. Hearthstoke, do you not object to this?

If Mr. Rumpole wishes to place his client's previous conviction for assault before the jury, My Lord, why should I object?

Oh, yes, indeed.

Why should you?

Bright chap, this Hearthstoke.

HORACE RUMPOLE: And do you remember what you thought about it at the time?

I thought Mr. Timson had got away with murder.

Hardly the answer that you wanted, I think, Mr. Rumpole.

On the contrary, My Lord, it is exactly the answer I wanted.

And having got away with it then, did you think that perhaps someone, some avenging angel perhaps, would want to frame him on this occasion?

My Lord, that is pure speculation.

Yes, of course it is.

But it's speculation I would like to put into the minds of the jury at the earliest possible opportunity.

COURT STAFF: Miss Sweeting.

Miss Sweeting, you say you found blood of Mr. Timson's group on the corner of the counter.

I did.

And from that you assumed that he had struck his head on the counter.

Well, that was the natural assumption.

He had been stunned by hitting his head.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Or by someone else hitting it.

But the Detective Inspector-- Listen to me.

Never mind what the Detective Inspector told you.

Mr. Rumpole, is that the tone to adopt?

The witness is a woman.

The witness is a scientific officer, My Lord, who purports to know something about blood stains.

Looking at the photograph of the blood stains, might they not be splashes of blood, which fell on the corner of the counter when the accused was struck on the head in that part of the shop?

Well, Miss Sweeting, may we have an answer?

Or do you wish to exercise a woman's privilege and not make up your mind?

Mr. Rumpole.

I suppose they might have got there like that, yes.

Yes, they are consistent with the accused having been struck on the head by an assailant with a weapon like this cosh.

Yes.

Thank you.

Oh, come kiss me, pretty Sweeting.

Rumpole.

Miss Sweeting, you have also said that the blood stains on the counter were consistent with Timson having slipped while he was running from the shop and striking his head against it.

Oh, yes.

They were consistent with that, My Lord.

Very well.

And perhaps the ladies of the jury would care to take a little light luncheon now.

The gentlemen too, of course.

Back at five past 2:00, members of the jury.

Oh, journeys end in lovers meeting.

Ah, Hearthrug, Some points to raise on the shorthand notes.

Sorry, Rumpole.

No time to chat now.

Featherstone's invited me to lunch with the judges.

How interesting.

He's invited me, too.

Ah, Hearthstoke.

I thought I'd invite both counsel to break bread with me.

I just wanted to make sure that neither of you had anything to object to about the trial.

Oh, of course not, Judge.

It's been a very pleasant morning.

Made even more pleasant by the appearance of the shorthand writer.

The-- oh, yes, a pretty girl, is she?

I hadn't noticed.

- Hadn't you?

She said you'd been extraordinarily kind to her.

Well, one tries to treat all one's officials with courtesy.

Lorraine so much appreciated that pot plant you sent her.

Pot plant?

Hmm, something rather gorgeous, she told me, with pink blooms.

Didn't she help you straighten out the shorthand note on the last Timson case?

She corrected her mistake.

Her mistake, was it?

I think she said it had been yours.

Perhaps we should sit down now.

Oh, Hearthstoke.

- Yes.

No need to mention that business of the pot plant around the Bailey.

Otherwise, they'll all be wanting one.

[chuckle] I can't go giving pink blossoms to everyone, including Rumpole.

No, of course not, Judge.

I do understand.

No need to mention it at all now.

Now?

Now justice is going to be done to Timson at least.

I think you're seated at the far end, Hearthstoke, next to the Alderman.

Yes, of course, Judge.

See you in court.

Horace.

Oh, Judge.

I just wanted to make sure that you and Hearthstoke were quite content with the fairness of the proceedings.

What about you?

Are you content with the fairness of the proceedings?

Well, of course.

I'm the judge, aren't I?

Are you sure?

What's that remark supposed to mean?

Haven't you asked yourself why you, a High Court Judge, a red judge has been given a paltry little robbery with violence?

Oh, don't stop pouring.

Well, it's the luck of the draw, I imagine.

Luck of the draw, my eye.

I detect the subtle hand of old Keith from the Lord Chancellor's office.

Keith?

Oh, yes.

Give Guthrie the Timson thing, he'd say.

Let him redeem himself by potting the feller, sending him down for 10 years.

The women of England would give three loud cheers, and Featherstone would be the Chancellor's blue-eyed boy again.

Horace, I really don't think that we should be discussing the case.

Don't fall for it, Guthrie.

You can be better than that if you put your mind to it.

Sum up according to the evidence and to hell with the Lord Chancellor's office.

[laughter] [chatter] Young Hearthstoke.

- Hearthrug, I call him.

- Yes.

Seems pretty able.

Ruthless.

What?

Absolutely ruthless.

Stop at nothing to win a case.

Nothing?

Absolutely nothing.

Horace.

Mm.

You've been practicing at the Old Bailey for a considerable number of years.

Ever since the dawn of time, My Lord.

And you can see nothing wrong in a judge impressed with the work of a court official, a shorthand writer, for instance, and sending that official some small token of gratitude.

Well, it depends what sort of token we're talking about.

Oh, some-- something like a pot plant.

Plant?

In a pot with pink blossoms.

Oh, pink blossoms.

That seems entirely appropriate.

You-- you see nothing improper in such a gift, Horace?

Absolutely nothing improper at all.

Busy Lizzie?

I think her name is Lorraine.

Absolutely nothing wrong with that.

You reassure me, Horace.

You're-- you're a great comfort to me.

I think.

In the car after we had arrested him, Timson said, you got me this time then.

You got me this time, then?

Yes, thank you very much, Detective Inspector Brush.

Inspector Brush, do you know a near neighbor of the Timsons' called Peter, better known as Peanuts Molloy?

Mr. P-- Peter Molloy is known to the police.

Yes, sir.

Yes, he and his brother Greg being the leading lights in the Molloy firm, rather violent criminals.

HEARTHSTOKE: My Lord.

GUTHRIE FEATHERSTONE: Is that right?

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR BRUSH: Yes, my Lord.

Very well.

Have you known Peter or Peanuts and his brother Greg to use weapons like this cosh in the course of crime?

Well, yes, possibly.

My Lord, I really must object.

Mr. Rumpole, your client's own character-- He is a petty thief, My Lord.

There is absolutely no violence in his record whatsoever.

Isn't that right, Inspector?

Not up to now, my Lord.

Very well.

Did you think that Tony Timson was guilty of the attempt to murder his wife?

I thought so, yes.

HORACE RUMPOLE: You were called rather quickly to that scene, weren't you?

Almost as soon as the argument in the Timson bathroom began.

DETECTIVE INSPECTOR BRUSH: A neighbor called us.

Was that neighbor one of the Molloy family?

Mr. Rumpole, I prefer not to answer that question.

Oh, very well.

But you-- you think he got off lightly at his first trial?

I thought so, yes.

What he actually said to you in the police car was, I suppose you think you've got me this time, then.

No, he just said, you got me this time then.

You left out the words I suppose you think because you didn't want him to get off lightly this time.

Now, would I do a thing like that, sir?

Ah, Inspector, that is something for the jury to decide.

It's a terrible dilemma, Marigold, and I'm on the horns of it.

Oh, please don't bring your cases home for me to try.

I'm absolutely fed up with it.

If Timson's acquitted, those women will never leave me alone or the Lord Chancellor's office.

He suggested I took up croquet.

Well, Justice MacWhitty's wife met me in Harrods.

We're so terribly sorry for you, Marigold, she said, all your going through with Guthrie.

She simply couldn't understand your attitude to women.

On the other hand, there's just a chance that Timson may be innocent.

The evidence of the blood stains is not entirely clear.

I shall have to point that out to the jury.

She asked if you made me carry the luggage.

What?

She said there was this old judge who always made his wife carry the luggage, walking behind him when he went on circuit.

That's the sort of reputation you've got yourself, Guthrie.

Mm?

They think you make me carry the luggage.

There's no justice.

Well, you should know.

I tell you quite honestly, Guthrie, I'm fed up with people coming up and feeling sorry for me in Harrods.

There comes a time in a man's life, Marigold, when a fellow doesn't know where his duty lies.

Your duty, Guthrie, lies in keeping your nose clean.

My nose?

Clean for the sake of your family.

And if this Timson has to go inside for a few years, well, I have no doubt he richly deserves it.

Nothing but decisions.

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: I really don't know what else you expected when you became a judge.

RICHARD SNELGROVE (ON RADIO): Good morning, students.

This is first year criminal law on the Open University.

I am Richard Snelgrove, law teacher at Highgrove Polytechnic, to help you on this issue.

Can a wife give evidence against her husband?

This remains a highly controversial-- Good God.

What time does the Open University open?

RICHARD SNELGROVE (ON RADIO): For many years, a wife could not give evidence against her husband.

See R v Boucher, 1952.

Now, since the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984, a wife can be called to give such evidence.

Oh, you see, Rumpole?

You better watch out.

RICHARD SNELGROVE (ON RADIO): --she can't be compelled to.

She has been a competent witness for the defense of her husband since the Criminal Evidence Act 1898.

But a judgment in the House of Lords suggests she is not compellable.

What does that mean, Rumpole?

HORACE RUMPOLE: What?

Compellable.

[groans] For example, we could ask April Timson to give evidence for her husband, but we couldn't make her.

April Timson!

Of course, she wouldn't know she's not compellable I can't see her getting up at 6:00 in the morning to listen to the Open-at-all-hours University.

You see how useful I'll be to you, Rumpole, when I come to work in your chambers.

Bernard, oh, wake you up, did I?

Oh, no, everything's up and about, oh, dear.

The Open University has been open for hours.

Look, a thought has just crossed my mind.

Crossed my mind, Rumpole.

And I was kind enough to hand it on to you.

Mrs. Timson, we want you to come to court.

You needn't fetch me.

I was coming anyway.

Good.

[snarls] Mrs. April Timson, did your husband Tony ever try to drown you?

No, he never.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Then why did you suggest he did?

My Lord, I object.

What possible relevance?

Why did you suggest that he tried to murder you?

Well, I was angry with him, I reckon.

Do I understand that you made an entirely false accusation against your husband?

Yes.

Well, don't you-- don't you realize, madam, the suffering that that false accusation has brought to innocent people?

Such as you, old cock.

I didn't catch that, Mr. Rumpole.

Such as the man in the dock, My Lord.

Oh, and to other innocent, innocent people.

After your husband's trial, did you continue to see Mr.

Peanuts Molloy?

APRIL TIMSON: We went out together, yes.

Yes.

Where did you meet?

We met around the offie in Morrison Avenue.

And then we went out in his car.

Did you meet him at the off-license on the night of this robbery?

No, I never.

Oh, but your husband says that your neighbor Chrissie told him that you were to meet Peanuts that night at the off-license at 9 o'clock.

And he went round there to try to put a stop to your affair.

Yeah, well, Chrissie was well in with Peanuts by then, wasn't she?

I mean, I reckon that he sent her.

Why do you reckon he sent her?

- My Lord?

- Yes, Mr. Hearthstoke.

My Lord, I must object.

What this witness thinks is entirely inadmissible.

And may I have a word with my learned friend, My Lord?

It might save time.

One more peep out of you.

I'll lay a formal complaint on your conduct.

What conduct?

Trying to blackmail a learned judge in the matter of a pot plant sent to a certain shorthand writer.

Not in the best traditions of the bar that, Hearthrug.

My Lord.

Yes, Mr. Hearthstoke.

On second thoughts, I withdraw my objection.

So why do you think Peanuts wanted your husband round at the off-license at 9 o'clock that evening?

APRIL TIMSON: It's pretty obvious, isn't it?

Well, explain it to us.

Well, to put him in the frame, like.

Make it look like Tony done Ruby up, like.

To put him in the frame, an innocent man.

Did Peanuts say anything to lead you to believe that he would do such a thing?

APRIL TIMSON: Yes, after the first trial.

After your husband was bound over.

Yeah.

Peanuts reckoned that Tony needed a bit of justice, like.

He said he was going to see he got put inside.

Of course Peanuts didn't mind making a bit himself, did he, out of robbing the offie.

Thank you.

And one more thing.

Have you ever seen a weapon like that before?

APRIL TIMSON: I saw that one.

I think I did.

HORACE RUMPOLE: Oh?

Whereabouts?

In Peanuts' car.

That's where he kept it.

Did your husband ever own anything like that?

What, Tony?

HORACE RUMPOLE: Yes.

Not him.

He wouldn't know what to do with it.

Members of the jury, you've heard the false accusation of attempted murder brought by Mrs. Timson against her husband.

Can you imagine, members of the jury, the misery that that poor man has been made to suffer?

Devoted to ladies as he may be, he has been called a heartless male chauvinist.

Gentle and harmless by nature, it is even thought that he may have connived in crimes of violence.

It may even have been suggested that he is the sort of fellow who would have made his wife carry the heavy luggage, shunned in the streets, hooted at from the pavements.

And his wife, whom he truly loves, may even have been unwilling to enter a warm domestic bath with him.

Consider that man very carefully, members of the jury.

And then consider whether Timson may not also have been falsely accused of robbery and violence at his local offie.

Justice must be done, members of the jury.

We must do justice, even if it means that we do nothing else for the rest of our lives except compete in croquet competitions.

HORACE RUMPOLE: (SHOUTING) Hearthrug routed!

Hearthrug routed!

I suppose you're cock-a-hoop because you won.

The women of England are on our side again, Hilda.

Old Keith from the Lord Chancellor's office is looking extremely embarrassed.

Oh, and a miraculous change came over Guthrie Featherstone.

What?

He suddenly found courage, Hilda.

That's something you can't do without when you concern yourself with justice.

I've read it.

That April Timson.

When a lovely woman stoops to folly-- Making it all up about being drowned in the bath.

--and finds too late that men betray.

What charm can soothe her melancholy?

I'm not going to the bar to protect people like her, Rumpole.

What art can wash her guilt away?

She's put me to a great deal of trouble, getting up at 6 o'clock every morning for the Open University.

What did you say, Hilda?

I'm not going to all that trouble-- learning real property, company law, eating dinners and buying a wig.

Not for the likes of April Timson.

Oh, Hilda, everyone in chambers will be bitterly disappointed.

I'm very sorry.

They'll just have to manage without me.

Besides, I have better things to do than to come home cock-a-hoop just because April Timson changes her mind and decides to tell the truth.

Yes, Hilda, of course, you have.

But what sort of better things exactly?

HILDA RUMPOLE: Well, keeping you in order, for one thing, Rumpole, and seeing you do the washing up properly.

- Ah.

- It's disgusting.

- What?

The washing up?

No, people having baths together.

Hilda, they are married people.

I don't see that makes it any better.

Don't you ever ask me to do that, Rumpole.

Never, Hilda.

I promise faithfully.

To hear is to obey.

"Bath tub judge proved right.

The wife of 36-year-old window cleaner Tony Timson admitted last night that he never tried to drown her.

The jury acquitted Timson on his second trumped up charge.

Leader on page 7.

Now and again, the British legal system produces a man of wisdom and integrity who refuses to yield to pressure groups.

Such a one is Mr. Justice Featherstone."

MARIGOLD FEATHERSTONE: Pretty good stuff.

You know, they tell me that Ian MacWhitty isn't looking quite up to snuff.

There might be a vacancy in the Court of Appeal.

How does that sound, Marigold?

The right honorable Lord Justice Featherstone.

Super, Guthrie.

Would you care for the soap?

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