All language subtitles for Rumpole s01e02 and the Alternative Society.eng

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(Seagull cries)

- What the hell?
- Hey, no hassle.

Stay cool!

(Dog barks)

Hello. What's your name?

Hey, man!

Hey! Do you want a cat?

There you go.

Peace and love!

(Folksy flute music)

(Baby crying)

Hi!

(Bottles clink)

Go!

Oh. What have we got there, then?

About three years, I'd reckon,
for the girl.

- What's so funny, Sergeant?
- Know what I said to her?

I said, "Cool it, man, you're in
no trouble with the fuzz."

I reckon she believed me!

Let's get you to the station
and cleaned up.

Don't exactly hold
with having my men in beads!

(Rumpole) 'You don't see
many cows nowadays...

'not down the Old Bailey.

'You need a nice Possession
Of Dangerous Drugs

'to bring you out on the Western circuit
before you get a glimpse of a cow.

'Ah, circuit life! I don't get
enough of it these days.

'Circuit is freedom!
You escape from the Old Bailey,

'you escape from your clerk,
you escape from...

'the lady wife,
She Who Must Be Obeyed,

'and you relax in the restaurant car,

'watching the cows flash past...

'and you settle down to a real,
old-fashioned railway lunch.

'A touch of Brown Windsor Soup,

'rapidly followed by poached turbot,
Cabinet Pudding,

'mousetrap, Cream Crackers
and celery,

'washed down with a vintage bottle
of Chateau Great Western,

'as you charge past...

- 'Didcot! '
- (Passing train horn)

- Yes, sir?
- Ah, waiter...

Some Brown Windsor Soup,
I imagine, to start.

We're only doing grapefruit segments
and the grilled platter.

- Grilled what?
- Fried egg and burger,

served with chips and a nice tomato.

Er... a nice tomato, yes, very well.

And to drink,
a reasonable railway claret.

No wines on this journey, sir.
We got gin in miniatures.

Gin in miniatures.

No, thank you.

Oh, dear. The circuit isn't what it was.
Now, then, let's see.

"First course for coloured royals,"
five, seven.

Question mark, but...

Brown Windsor!

(Indistinct voice over tannoy)

- Lovely day!
- Mr Horace Rumpole?

- Yes.
- You're Rumpole? I'm Friendly.

- Thank God somebody is.
- I was warned you like a little joke.

(Train horn drowns their voices)

We don't do much crime at Friendly,
Sanderson and Friendly.

By the way, you'll find a couple of typing
errors in the instructions to counsel.

Fear not. I never read the instructions
to counsel. I find they blur the issues.

- You'll want to see the client, then?
- Oh, she might expect it.

You're going to Nirvana?

Aren't we all, eventually? No, Friendly,
I shall steer clear of the lotus eaters

of 34 Balaclava Road,

a land, I imagine,
where it seemed always afternoon.

Bring the client for a conference
at my hotel, 9 o'clock? That suit you?

- Yes.
- Ah!

- You'll be at the George.
- Thank you. Where?

- That's where the Bar put up.
- Oh, is it?

Then I shall avoid it. No, I'm staying with
some old mates from my RAF days.

They run a stately pleasure dome
called The Crooked Billet.

That little pub place out on the bay?

Out on the bay indeed, with no sound
but the soft summer rain

and the muted love call of the lobster.

You know what I say, Friendly? When
you've got a nice crime by the sea,

relax and enjoy it.

(Seagulls)

(Happy whistling)

(Clink of glasses)

Calling all air crew, calling all air crew!
Parade immediately!

Rumpole is here!

Oh...!

Oh, you old devil!

You look beautiful!

Liar!

- I've your special rum ready for you.
- Good!

- Would you like a drink now?
- Why ever not?

Takes me straight back
to the NAAFI hop!

Do you remember
New Year's Eve 1943?

Sam was off bombing something.

I had to you to myself for two hours
of the bumps-a-daisy,

not to mention the Lambeth Walk.

Here's to the good old Duke!

(Together) The Duke!

Ah!

- Thanks, love.
- You never took advantage.

Mmm... Something I shall regret...

Until the day I cough myself into
extinction. Where's Sam? How is he?

How is ex-Flight Lieutenant
"Three Fingers" Dogherty?

Bloody doctor!

Doctor?

Our Dr Mackay.

He tells me,
with a face like an undertaker,

"Your husband's got
to leave the licensing trade

"or he'll not last another year."

"Get him into some small bungalow,"
he says, "and on to soft drinks."

Can you imagine Sam in a bungalow?

Or on soft drinks! The mind boggles.

He says, "He'll find lime juice and soda
has a pleasant kick to it."

The kick of a mouse in carpet slippers,
I'd imagine.

I told the quack, "Sam's not scared.

"Used to go out every night
to get himself killed."

He still misses the War dreadfully.

Yes, I expect he does.

Saturday night here
and a bloody good piss-up,

it's the nearest he gets to the RAF.

Watch he doesn't rush out one night
and bomb Torquay!

Watch he doesn't rush out one night
and bomb Torquay!

You're not joking!

The point is...

Well...

Should I tell him?

Well, won't your Dr Mackay tell him?

Oh! You know Sam, won't see hide
nor hair of the doctor,

So, what shall I do?

Why ask me, love?

You're the bloody lawyer,
you're meant to know everything!

Eh? What the hell's going on?
We're not open yet.

(Bobby) Sam! Sam,
can't you see who it is?

What?

- Ta-da!
- My God! It's old rounded Rumpole!

- Sam! Sam!
- Rumpole of the Ops Room! I'm...

What the hell are you doing
in this neck of the woods?

- He wrote us a letter!
- (Sam) I never read letters.

Well, here's to the good old Duke!

(AIl) The Duke!

- You're on holiday, are you?
- A sort of working holiday.

I'm here on behalf of a lady, a damsel,
you might say, in bloody great distress!

Yeah? Not still after Bobby, are you?

Of course, till the day I die!

- Bobby's hardly in distress.
- (Mutters) Aren't I?

No, the lady in question's a certain
Miss Kathy Trelawny.

You must have read about her.
One of the lotus eaters of Nirvana,

34 Balaclava Road. She was done
for possessing a suitcase of cannabis.

I know, but...
What, are you defending her?

Against your crafty country
constabulary, yes.

- Does she come here?
- Not bloody likely!

That lot wouldn't get in!
Anyway, they don't drink.

(Mocks) Good God! Is there no end
to their decadence?

- But do you know her?
- Never clapped eyes on her.

No doubt she's as glamorous
as an unmade bed!

- No doubt at all.
- How can you defend that creature?

Easy. Prop myself up on feet
in court and do my best.

(Sam) You know damn well she's guilty!

Wrong.
I don't know anything of the kind.

- (Sam) Pull the other one!
- I don't know!

And, if she is and tells me she is,

I'll have to make her plead guilty.

We do have a few rules, old sweetheart!
We don't deceive courts...

- Not on purpose.
- You think she's innocent?

He's just told you, Sam.
They have rules about it.

I think she's the victim
of a set-up, a trick by the police.

That's what I'll think
until she tells me otherwise.

Ridiculous! The police don't trick
people, well, not in England.

Have you never
had a plain-clothes man in,

asking for a Scotch, after closing?

Yes, but that's entirely different.

- (Mocks) Entirely different.
- Anyway, who's paying you

to defend Miss Slag Heap,
that's what I'd like to know?

Fasten your seat belt, old darling...
You are.

- What?
- Miss Kathy Trelawny's on Legal Aid

and I am here by courtesy
of the ratepayers of Coldsands.

- Thank you for your hospitality.
- Bloody hell!

(Soft melody)

What the hell do you want a lawyer for?

I'll just meet him, Dave.
There's no harm.

All you've gotta do is stand up in court
and tell the whole world about Pete.

You haven't forgotten
where Pete is tonight?

No, Dave, I haven't forgotten.

(Doorbell)

- Good evening, Miss Trelawny.
- Good evening, Mr Friendly.

- You're ready?
- Yes.

When we're with counsel, confine
yourself to answering his questions.

Just answer Mr Rumpole's
questions, hmm?

Why? What are you afraid
I might say?

I don't know, Miss Trelawny...

I really don't know at all.

(Rumpole) "Cool it, man, you're in
no trouble with the fuzz."

Oh, dear me!

Just from the way the old darling talked,
didn't you twig he was drug squad?

My client has never come up
against the police before.

Of course, that explains it. Nowadays
coppers are issued with beads,

as well as the book of verbals
and the size 11 boots.

- We'll have some fun with this case.
- Oh? What sort of fun?

Plan is, friendly old Friendly,
a preliminary point.

This evidence of Deputy Acting
Detective Sergeant Jack Smedley,

alias Jack the Hippie...

(Chuckles)

In the absence of the jury, we will ask
the judge to rule it all as inadmissible.

Really? On what grounds?

It was obtained contrary
to natural justice,

it constituted a trick, that it is the
testimony of an agent provocateur!

Well, we don't get many of those!

Nasty foreign expression for a nasty
foreign thing. Spies and infiltrators,

policemen who worm their way
into an Englishman's home

to trap him into crime.
Bloody un-British!

Like bidets and eating your pud
after your cheese.

Now, your average circuit judge, "circus
judges" we call them at the Bailey...

It's His Honour
James Crispin Rice tomorrow.

- Rice Krispies! Know him well.
- (Piano starts playing)

Product of the Navy
and a minor public school.

Had it firmly instilled
in the fourth form - never trust a sneak!

- He might rule out the evidence?
- If we can implant a strong dislike

of Sergeant Smedley into the old darling,
yes, why not?

"Disgusting, Your Honour!
The police should detect crime,

"not manufacture it!
What is this country coming to?

"Constables in beads,
singing to a small guitar,

"conning an innocent girl into making
huge collections of cannabis

"from some pusher she met
at a dance at the local tech!

"She would never have done it
if the policeman hadn't asked her.

"Withdraw the evidence,
Your Honour.

"The whole thing is vile outrage
on our age-old liberties!

"It is not to be thought of
that the flood Of British freedom,

"which, to the open sea
Of the world's...

"Of the world's..."

- "Of the world's praise."
- "Of the world's praise,

"through dark antiquity,
hath flowed from pomp of waters

"unwithstood, should perish,
we must be free or die..."

"Who speak the tongue
that Shakespeare spake."

- You know it!
- A little.

I didn't think anyone
knew him nowadays.

Whenever I come out with him
in the Bar Mess, they look bemused.

It's most unusual!
A client knowing Wordsworth!

- I teach.
- What?

- I teach kids English.
- Ah, yes, of course you do.

- There's one thing I wanted to ask you.
- We mustn't keep Mr Rumpole!

- Ask, Miss Trelawny.
- What do you want me to say, exactly?

Say? Say nothing.
Keep the mouth firmly closed.

Rely on Rumpole, with a little help
from Wordsworth.

- Now then, can I buy you a drink?
- I'm afraid my wife's expecting me.

Ah, yes, Friendly. Well, yes, mustn't
keep the wife waiting. Thank you.

Miss Trelawney, are they waiting
for you at Nirvana?

- No, I'd love one. Thank you.
- Right. There we are.

# Keep smiling through... #

(Indistinct chatter)

Well, where did you get
this popsy, Rumpole?

You shouldn't be with the ground staff,
you're air-crew material!

- What's it to be?
- A Coke, please. I don't drink.

Oh, don't you? You don't drink? There's
nothing else you don't do, is there?

- Quite a lot of things.
- Remember how we divided popsies

into beer WAAFs and gin WAAFs?
In my opinion, you're a large pink gin.

(Rumpole) Sam, she doesn't drink.

Rumpole! Did you pick up this bit
of crackling in a bloody Baptist chapel?

Take no notice of him, my dear.
You can be teetotal with Rumpole,

but let's launch our friendship
on a sea of sparkling shampoo.

- I'd probably sink!
- Not with me, you wouldn't.

Let me introduce myself - Flight
Lieutenant "Three Fingers" Dogherty.

"Three Fingers" refers
to the measure of my whisky.

My hands are in perfect order.

- I haven't met many flight lieutenants.
- You've met me.

One of the glamour boys, the Brylcreem
brigade, one of the very, very few.

If I had a crate, I'd well take you up
to the sky for a couple of victory rolls!

See, him, old ground-staff Rumpole,
we'd leave him far below us.

- Grounded.
- I don't think we should do that.

- Why ever not?
- I think I'm going to need him.

Nee... nee... need Rumpole.
Whatever do you need Rumpole for?

No... Um...
What did you say your name was?

I didn't.

I should have introduced you.
Miss Kathy Trelawny

from Nirvana, 34 Balaclava Road.

(Whispers) The well-known
unmade bed, old man.

- No bloody wonder you don't drink!
- It's something I don't like.

Oh, naturally! You won't have a pink gin
like a normal girl. Excuse me!

(Yells drunkenly) Come on now,
drink up please! Time!

- (Piano lid bangs down)
- (Bobby) Right, thank you! Super!

(Sam) Drink up!

Was that a joke,
that flight-lieutenant business?

No, no joke at all.
Sam was a great bomber pilot.

He could find any target you care
to mention, in pitch darkness!

On three fingers of whisky.

He was good, Sam, very good.

You mean good at killing people?

Well, I... suppose that is what I mean.

Is, um...

- Is that his wife?
- Yes, that's Bobby.

- I used to think she was gorgeous!
- She doesn't look very happy.

Of course, that was in wartime.
Things were a bit utility then.

But the children seem
to have grown up beautifully.

- Must be all that orange juice.
- Or the peace.

(Sam) Time now, please!

- Does that mean me?
- I'm rather afraid it does.

Come on, I'll walk you to the bus.

(Waves break in distance)

Ah!

(Kathy sighs)

It's so peaceful.

"It is a beauteous evening,
calm and free

"The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration..."

- We read poetry... at the house.
- Do you?

It's a good way to end the day.
Somebody reads something.

Anything.

- They won't lock me up, will they?
- I told you,

we'll have the evidence thrown out.
Put your trust in Rumpole.

My brother Pete's locked up...

in Turkey.

He got 12 years.

Phew!

I can't bear to think about it!

He was always such a scared kid.
He couldn't sleep with the door shut.

Neither of us could.

- Will it be over soon?
- It'll be over.

There's my bus.

Why don't you come and see me
some time, in Nirvana?

'Why ever not?

'In Nirvana! '

See you in court tomorrow!

(Seagulls cry)

She's a remarkable girl!
She actually knows her Wordsworth!

Ah, thanks, love.

- In a way, you have to admire her.
- Yes, I could see you had to.

So few people actually choose
a way of life.

- Well, you did, Rumpole.
- Eh?

You chose Hilda.

Ah! The lady wife, yes.
She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Had no choice in the matter. I was called
up to marriage, like military service.

Her father was Head of Chambers.

He gave me to understand
what was expected of me.

Well, you've been together so long,
and your son!

- Did you know Nick's at Oxford?
- No!

Yes! He's the bright one of the family.

Yes, so Hilda and I are left
looking at each other like...

like a couple of strangers
forced to share the same sleeper

on some endless railway journey.
Me and She...

(Both) Who Must Be Obeyed.

Mmm...

Do you know, if I had ever exercised

a free and independent choice...

- What?
- I'd have said something at that hop.

- New Year's Eve at the NAAFI?
- Mmm.

I had you to myself for two hours.

Sam was off on a round trip
to Dusseldorf.

Plenty of time to come
to a decision.

- You never said a word.
- No.

Perhaps I took it for granted. You were
never meant for the lowly ground staff.

Well, that's a mistake
I shan't ever make again.

Well, if you don't say anything,
nobody ever knows.

You're smelling rather lovely today.

Oh, it's some... new aftershave. Saw it
in the chemist. I went for an early stroll.

- By way of a celebration.
- Celebrating what?

Holiday... and a case
with all sorts of possibilities.

(Low voices)

(Baby crying)

'Ah, the lotus eaters are in force.

'Clean jeans, statutory baby.

'Hope they don't mistake it for some fun
round the South African Embassy.'

Morning! You must be Rumpole.

'What? Gentleman farmer,
gentleman barrister? '

- Welcome to the Western circuit.
- 'Jodhpur boots under the pin stripe.'

Vernon Tooke's my name.
I'm prosecuting you.

Awfully decent of you.

I say, where did you get
that shower from? Rent-a-hippie!

What a life! Gang bangs
on National Assistance...

'Do I detect in Farmer Tooke
a note of envy? '

Used to be a decent area,
Balaclava Road, before that lot!

What? Squatters, are they?

They've got a nine-year lease
and all got jobs.

The only fellows scrounging off the state
are you and I.

- Really, Rumpole?
- They are paying you on the rates?

Oh! Ha ha! Most amusing.

So, Rumpole, is this going to take long?
It's the Coldsands gymkhana tomorrow.

- We tend to make it rather a day out.
- Ah! I shouldn't think so.

- It's quite a nice point of law.
- Point of law, Rumpole?

Oh, you do have law, down here
on the Western circuit, I take it?

- Ha ha!
- You her lawyer?

- This is Dave.
- Oh, yes?

Dave Hawkins, a friend of mine.

- Will Kathy be going in today?
- In?

Into the witness box. There's something
I want her to say...

Er, Dave... Do you mind if I call you
Mr Hawkins?

If I were a surgeon
taking out your appendix,

you wouldn't want Kathy
telling me where to put the knife.

- (Man yells) Katherine Trelawny!
- Yes!

You'd better answer to bail.

- Will they lock me up now?
- Of course not! Trust me.

- Trelawny?
- Yes.

- (Dave) We can come in, can't we?
- Of course, Mr Hawkins,

provided you leave the work to me.

Beads?

What beads were those?

I was wearing beads, Your Honour,
on my visits to 34 Balaclava Road.

Beads? With the uniform?

Not with the uniform, Your Honour, with
the embroidered jeans, the headband,

the purple silk drapery
knotted round the neck.

Oh, not forgetting the Afghan goat coat.

- I was in plain clothes, Your Honour.
- Plain clothes? You mean fancy dress!

Would you mind telling the court what's
happened to your gaucho moustache?

- I shaved it off.
- (Rumpole) Oh, why?

In view of certain comments, Your
Honour, passed in the station.

It wasn't a gaucho, more a Viva Zapata.

(Tittering)

(Usher) Silence!
(Judge) Viva... What was that?

He was affecting the moustache
of a South American revolutionary.

South American? Can you tell me,
Officer, what was the purpose of this?

(Rumpole) May I suggest
an answer, Sergeant?

You took it into your head to pose
as a drug dealer,

in order to trap this quite innocent
young woman

into taking part in a filthy trade she
wouldn't otherwise have dreamt of!

- She wasn't so innocent.
- Indeed?

- Why do you suppose that?
- Her way of life, Your Honour.

What I want you to tell me,
Officer, is this,

had you reason to believe that this
young woman was dealing in drugs

before you went there,
in your Viva... what?

- Er, Zapata, Your Honour.
- Thank you. Much obliged.

- We had received information.
- Will you share the secret, Sergeant?

- What information?
- Miss Trelawny was involved.

- Involved by you!
- Involved already.

I shall call the evidence, Your Honour,
of the neighbour, Miss Tigwell.

(Judge) Very well, Mr Tooke.
(Rumpole) 'Do sit quietly, Tooke.'

But if the evidence shows
no previous attempt to deal in drugs,

you'd have to agree that this crime
is a result of your fertile imagination?

Doesn't that rather depend,
Mr Rumpole,

on the effect of Miss Tigwell's evidence,
when we hear it?

If Your Honour pleases. As always,
Your Honour is perfectly right.

- Thank you, Sergeant!
- (Tooke) Miss Tigwell.

(Baby crying)

(Whispers) Is that all you're asking?

Do you want to have a go?
Do borrow the wig, old darling.

(Baby crying)

Will you please keep that baby quiet?
This is a court of law.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

The baby didn't know.

- I could tell what they were!
- What were they, Miss Tigwell?

- Perverted!
- Really?

All living higgledy-piggledy.
Men and women, black and white.

Did your observation include
the bedrooms?

No, but they all sat together
in the front room.

- Sat together. What did they discuss?
- Oh, I couldn't hear that.

They were a community, that's all.

They might have been Trappist monks
for all you knew.

I don't know if Mr Rumpole is suggesting
his client is a Trappist monk?

'Just sit quietly, Tooke.
Leave the jokes to me, old darling.'

Miss Tigwell, apart from the fact that
people of different sexes sat together,

did you observe anything... suspicious
from your post in the crow's nest?

I saw a man giving her money,

quite a lot of it. It was in �10 notes.

Was this the first time you had seen

money change hands,
or any sort of dealing in Nirvana?

The first time, yes.

Will you describe to His Honour
the man you saw passing money?

Dreadful-Iooking person!
A clear criminal type.

Looked as if he'd been dragged
through a hedge.

- Long hair?
- Yes, and a revolting moustache!

Beads, embroidered jeans,

Afghan goat fur
and purple fancy round the neck?

Disgusting! I saw it all distinctly!

Thank you, Miss Tigwell. You've
now given us an accurate description...

of Detective Sergeant Smedley
of the local Force.

(Laughter)

Well, Mr Rumpole, it's four o'clock.
Would it be a convenient moment?

- If Your Honour pleases.
- Will you be longer with Miss Tigwell?

I think I've finished with Miss Tigwell,
Your Honour.

Yes, Mr Rumpole, I think you have.

(Usher) Be upstanding in court!

- Rumpole!
- Ah, Tooke! I've good news for you.

Looks as if we'll be finished
in time for your gymkhana tomorrow.

Got a daughter in the potato race,
have you?

Do you think the judge is agin me?

Not you personally,
but I know what he's thinking.

Oh, do you?

Well, you give an officer like that
his head,

next he'll be in a frock on the proms,
soliciting the chairman of the bench.

- I suppose that sort of thing is worrying.
- Not English, if you ask me.

- Oh, Rumpole!
- Tooke?

What are you doing tonight?

A few of us are dining at the Bar hotel
with the leader of the circuit.

Ah! Roast lamb, sea shanties,

and old jokes from Quarter Sessions.
No, not tonight, Tooke.

Oh... Oh, well, I'm sorry. We like to give
our visitors a little hospitality.

Tonight, I'm dropping out!

(Laughter)

- You've surprised me.
- (Kathy) You surprised us.

I thought, at best, nut cutlets
and carrot juice.

Kathy guessed you'd be
for steak and kidney.

Kathy has extraordinary understanding
of the most important things in life.

- And a very drinkable wine!
- I'm the wine freak.

Ah! The sommelier of Nirvana!

Do you think I'll be
in the witness box tomorrow?

If this argument succeeds, you won't be
in the witness box ever.

- I'm not sure I agree with that.
- Well, I'm not sure you have to.

This is our big chance
to get through to them.

"Them"? Who?

Well, to the law! That's what we've got
you for, to put our point of view across.

You got me to get you out of trouble,
old darling, that's what.

I'm not going to get up in court and teach
the judge to sing protest songs.

- You're not taking this case seriously.
- Oh, yes, I am. I tell you,

I am seriously determined to keep Kathy
out of prison.

Thank you.

- I'll tell you something else.
- What?

I would rather live at 34 Balaclava Road

than Flat 38 Froxbury Mansions
with She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Er, that's Mrs Rumpole.

I'd rather relax on your Indian scatter
cushions and listen to Andean flutes

than drag myself out of bed
on a wet Monday at the Bailey

to defend some over-excited youth
accused of raping his social worker.

I swear to you...!
No, I swear to Almighty God.

For two pins...
for a box of small cigars,

I'd give up the law.

I'd spend the rest of my life in a pair
of plimsolls and old grey flannel bags,

shrimping on the beach at Coldsands.

When this is over, Kathy,
when your little trouble is over,

why don't we drop out together?

- All right.
- Meanwhile, back in court,

- Kathy is on trial!
- Don't let's talk about court any more.

Well... why don't we read something?

- Got a bit of poetry?
- Goes down well with the claret?

(Rumpole laughs)

- No, you read it.
- Me?

- Yes, you like this, you read it.
- Oh? Do I?

(Sue) We usually have a poem
before bed.

(Rumpole) Well, let's have a look.

(Soft flute music)

"It is a beauteous evening,
calm and free.

"The holy time is quiet as a Nun

"Breathless with adoration,
the broad sun.

"Is sinking down in its tranquility.

"The gentleness of heaven
is on the sea.

"Listen, the mighty Being is awake.

"And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder

"everlastingly.

"Dear Child! Dear girl!
That walkest with me here

"If thou appear'st untouched
by solemn thought,

- "Thy nature is not..."
- Ssh!

"Therefore less divine.

"Thou liest in Abraham's bosom
all the year.

"And worship'st at the Temple's
inner shrine.

"God being with thee
when we know it not."

The officer was only doing his duty,

active, Your Honour,
in the pursuit of crime.

Or in the manufacture of the crime?
That's what troubles me.

- I see Your Honour's troubled.
- 'He is, Tooke, he really is.'

If I thought this young woman
only collected drugs,

only got in touch with a supplier
because of the trap set for her,

then would you concede, Mr Tooke,
I should have to reject the evidence?

- I think Your Honour would.
- 'Of course he would.'

'You are a lovely prosecutor.'

As you would have to concede that
there is no other evidence against her,

that would be the end of the matter.

The end of the matter...
Yes, Your Honour.

(Whispers) The end of
the matter, Tooke!

Well, we'll hear what Mr Rumpole
has to say after lunch.

(Usher) Be upstanding in court!
(Judge) Er...

I may have to rise a little early today.

Er... public duty.

Another fond father with his daughter
in the gymkhana?

- (Friendly) Mr Rumpole.
- Yes?

The client wishes to see you
as a matter of urgency.

We want to tell the truth.

What "truth"?

It's the only way to get
Peter's case across!

- Peter?
- My brother. I told you.

- He was busted.
- In Turkey. This isn't Turkey!

And it's not Peter's case,
it's yours.

Kathy wants you to know why
she did it.

- Shut up!
- You...

Conference is over! Got to get lunch.
Come on, Friendly.

But we have no instructions...

- Has she told you what they are?
- Not yet, but...

Then don't! The old ones are doing
very nicely, thank you.

When it's all over,
you can tell me what you like.

I got the stuff last year in Istanbul,
after Pete got busted!

I was going to sell it anyway!

It was going to cost �10,000
to get him out

in lawyers' fees and bribes, I suppose.

He got 12 years!

We've got to get people
to care about Pete!

Miss Trelawny... are these
your new instructions?

Yes!

Sit down, please.

Now then, you already had this stuff

before Detective Sergeant Smedley
first came to Nirvana?

- Long before!
- Let her tell me!

You didn't get it in answer to his call?

I told you! I was just looking for a buyer
so I could help Pete.

Is there a 2.20 back to London?
Get me a taxi, would you?

- Well, what are you going to do?
- Do? I'm retiring from this case.

- Running out on us.
- Why?

Get me a taxi, there's a good chap.

Why?

I'll try and explain to you.

It's a question of religion, you see,
a barrister's religion,

an article of faith.

My whole existence is bound
by a small blue volume

- handed down like the tablets of Moses.
- What's he talking about?

It is called Etiquette of the Bar.

Barristers down the ages have killed,
certainly committed adultery

and they may even have
worshipped graven images,

but I do not believe that any one of them

ever went on to fight a case after his
client has told him in ringing tones

that he actually did the deed!

- You mean you won't help me?
- I can't!

Look, everywhere in the world, people
are persecuted by archaic law.

Kathy wants to make a stand!
The pot law is ridiculous!

It is my duty to preside over
your acquittal,

not your martyrdom to a dubious
cause of intoxication!

Enjoy your bottle of wine last night,
did you?

Yes, I take your point, Mr Hawkins,
but I do not make the laws!

And you don't want them changed!

I'll tell the judge I can't act for you
any longer for personal reasons.

That old fool'll think you fancy her!

You'll get another barrister.
What you tell him is your business.

What's the matter?
Afraid to stick your neck out?

Or would you starve
if they made pot legal?

Leave us alone, Dave.
I want to talk to him.

Well, you heard
what she said, Mr Hawkins.

Tell the unhappy Friendly to hang on
to that taxi for me, would you?

I never thought you'd run out on me.

You've run out on me.

You've robbed me of my defence.

All I can advise you now
is to plead guilty.

I...

I don't suppose you could forget that...
what I just told you?

Of course I could. I'd like nothing better!

I'd forget it at once
if I wasn't a bloody barrister!

There's nothing more important
in your life, being a barrister?

- No.
- But what was all that about poetry?

Wordsworth, silly old sheep! Drives me
mad sometimes, but I forgive him.

I don't believe poetry
means a damn thing to you!

Friendship doesn't mean anything!

You're just an old man with a heart full
of a book about legal etiquette!

You're saying just what
I have long suspected.

Well, why not do something about it?

What would you suggest?

I might leave Coldsands...

come up to London
and do a language course.

I want to get away.

I thought... well,

that we could have lunch sometimes,

when you're at the Old Bailey.

Ah! Every man has his price, hmm?

Is that mine?
The occasional lunch at the Old Bailey?

Not enough?

Oh yes! Yes, more than enough.

Something to think about on long,
cold nights in Froxbury Mansions.

I'm not going to prison!

You won't let them send me to prison!

I can talk to the judge for you.

He might allow a suspended sentence.
I don't know! I can talk to him.

That's right! He likes you!
Go and see him!

Please go and see him!

You know what it means
if I speak to the judge for you?

I plead guilty!

Good.

I'll do my best.

We have one trump card! The old
darling's aching to get to the gymkhana!

We had a good evening. You should
have been with us, Rumpole.

- A splendid evening, eh, Vernon?
- The leader gave us the Floral Dance!

Old Pascoe's wonderful for 75.
He entertained us in song.

- You'd have enjoyed it, Rumpole.
- Splendid!

We fined little Moreton 12 bottles
of claret for talking shop.

We then proceeded to punish the
penalty. How many bottles were left?

- None, so far as I remember.
- (Rumpole) Judge, I was wondering,

er... at the risk of being fined
for talking shop,

if I could persuade my client
to plead guilty,

I thought you might be grateful
for a short afternoon?

- She's a remarkable girl.
- So I can see.

- She knows a lot about Wordsworth.
- Wordsworth?

(Laughing) Is he a mitigating factor?

- Well, he can't afford to lose admirers.
- No.

Well, she'll get the full benefit
of pleading guilty.

- You can't tell me any more?
- There are rules.

Well, I... I thought you might indicate...

Ah, the tariff. You know the tariff.
How much was it? 20 pounds weight?

- (Judge) A fair wallop.
- It was cannabis! Only cannabis.

If it was broken biscuits, I shouldn't
have had the pleasure of your company.

They use it like whisky.
It doesn't occur to them that...

But it isn't whisky, is it?
It's a Class B drug,

as defined by the Dangerous Drugs Act.

- But what do we know about it?
- That it's illegal.

Isn't that all we need to know?
Oh, my God, Rumpole,

we're not going to see you
in court in beads?

(Sycophantic laughter)

She's got a good character.

(Judge) What do you know about a good
character? Everyone had one once.

If you're going to let everybody out
because of good character,

no one would ever go inside.

That would be a scandal.
All those empty prisons!

I say, Rumpole, you're not getting
involved in this case, are you?

Involved? No, of course not.
No, naturally.

- Hmm... More coffee?
- (Tooke) Thank you.

I thought perhaps
a suspended sentence?

Rumpole, you've got your job to do

and I've got mine... hmm?

Trelawny.

You have been convicted of crime.

Have you anything to say before
sentence is passed on you?

I have listened to every word
said on your behalf by learned counsel.

If you'd wanted to help your brother, you
should've gone to the Foreign Office

or the Red Cross.
It was no help to him, or to yourself,

to engage in serious crime.

Whatever you may read
in the newspapers,

this is vile stuff, a Class B drug
rightly forbidden by Act of Parliament.

You will go to prison for three years.
Take her down.

(Door opens)

Ah. Ended nice and quickly.

Yes, Tooke, very quickly.

- Going back to London?
- Tomorrow. I'm going back tomorrow.

Quite an attractive sort of girl,
your client.

- Yes.
- All the same, to prison she had to go.

(Bells chime)

(Car horn blares)

Seems a shame, sir, girl like that?

It's an evil place, Holloway.

This fellow said
to this girl he met at the dance,

"I'm only here for the weekend,"
and she said,

"All right, I'm dancing as fast as I can."

Look at Sam. He's as happy as a tick.

Yes, Sam's happy.

What does he want with a slow death
on lime juice in a bungalow?

I've made up my mind.
I'm not going to tell him.

Are you in favour of that?

'People not telling people things?

'People not scattering information
like bombs? Oh, yes.'

Oh, yes! I'm all in favour of that.

Rumpole! Rumpole of the ground staff,
here's to the good old Duke!

Here's to the good old Duke!

Here's to the good old Duke!

(Plays piano intro)

(Everyone)
# Roll out the barrel

# We'll have a barrel of fun

# Roll out the barrel

# We'll have the blues on the run

# Zing, boom, tararrel

# We'll have a song of good cheer

# Now's the time to roll the barrel

# 'Cause the gang's all here

# Roll out the barrel

# Let's have a barrel of fun

# Roll out the barrel

# We've got the blues on the run

# Zing, boom, tararrel

# Ring out a song of good cheer

# Now's the time to roll the barrel
For the gang's all here

# Roll out the barrel

# We'll have a barrel of fun

# Roll out the barrel

# We've got the blues on the run

# Zing, boom, tararrel

# We'll have a song of good cheer

# Now's the time to roll the barrel
For the gang's all here #

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