All language subtitles for Rumpole s05e02 B.eng

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(Indistinct chatter)

(All sing "Happy Birthday To You")

...Happy birthday to you

Happy birthday, dear Nigel

Happy birthday to you!

(Cheering)

Don't be so stingy with the poo, Mark.

To Nigel Timson,
a bull birthday and a bear mark!

And let's hope he rallies in late trading,
Rosie!

Don't drift downwards
with the Nikkei Dow.

- Keep up with the plucky little pound!
- Nothing wrong with the dear old pound.

- Happy birthday, darling.
- Oh, what is it?

A little token of appreciation
from the Chairman's daughter,

for six months of dedicated service.

- (Laughter)
- That's where the dollar got to!

One more thing...

(Cheering)

Greetings to you, Nigel,
whose happy birthday this is.

We wish you all you wish yourself,
that's money, dear, and kisses.

(Man) Yeah!

(Cheering and applause)

(Phones ring)

- Is your name Nigel Timson?
- Yes.

I'm Detective Inspector Arbuthnot.

And this is Detective Sergeant Rayner
of the Fraud Squad.

I'm arresting you for offences
contrary to the Companies Act.

- (Roaring laughter)
- Brilliant! Here we go.

I think he's seriously serious.

Head of the Timson clan, alleged
to have entered a warehouse by night?

Aren't you getting on a bit
for this sort of thing, Fred?

It's not me I'm worried about.
It's young Nigel.

Nigel? I don't think
we've met professionally.

That's cousin Andy's lad,
what went into the City.

Works cheek by jowl with them lads
from Eton and Harrow College.

And this prodigy's
in some sort of trouble, is he?

I wouldn't mind. Drives a Porsche,
girlfriend of the boss's daughter.

- What can I do to help him?
- He got himself arrested. Fraud Squad.

Ah, so he hasn't let down the honour
of the Timsons after all.

You've always looked after us.
You've been good to all the family.

Yeah well,
fraud isn't my favourite subject, Fred.

Had he got himself into some
other difficulty, involving blood stains...

We've got to do our best for our Nigel.

He's the only one of the Timsons
what has ever been upwardly mobile.

- (Door slams)
- Rosie?

- (Shouts) Where are you?
- In the bath.

- What happened?
- Nothing much.

Bail renewed.
I had a long talk with my father.

- And I had a long talk with daddy.
- Oh, yes?

He's going to do all he can.

- He has to tell the truth as he knows it.
- Of course.

I've never even met your father.

If you're absolutely dead keen on tea
with everyone in Shepherd's Bush...

It could be rather fun,
when all of this is over.

That's what I thought.
Anyway, he's consulted his cousin Fred

and there's this character who performs
miracles down at the Old Bailey.

(Hilda shouts) Rumpole!

(Rumpole) "'Me thought I heard
a voice cry, 'Sleep no more..."'

Rumpole?

"'Macbeth doth murder sleep,
the innocent sleep,

"'sleep that knits up
the ravelled sleeve of care,

"'the death of each day's life,
sore labour's bath, balm of hurt minds."'

- What on earth are you doing?
- Rumpole shall sleep no more.

You don't need the gas full on in March.

Oh, Hilda, there's a chill wind blowing.

Half is quite enough. I won't have
the gas be wasted now that I own it.

Oh, Hilda.

A �25 share holding doesn't give you
outright possession of the North Sea.

All the same,
it's the principle of the thing.

I... went to the bank today, Rumpole.

Pleased to see you, were they,
at the caring Bank?

Mr Truscott, the manager,
asked me in for a little talk.

It was not a pleasant experience.

He's not much of a conversationalist,
is he, old Truscott?

"We'll cash this one, but tell Mr Rumpole
he's scraping the bottom of the barrel."

Why are you scraping
the bottom of the barrel?

Because, Hilda, the government doesn't
believe in spending out on Legal Aid.

And the time it takes
for the cheques to come through

is about equal to the gestation period
of the giant Galapagos turtle.

And because my hard-earned cash
is frittered away

on things like rent and income tax,

and sliced bread and washing-powder
and Brillo Pads...

And because you don't get
100,000 pounds a case.

And Antiquax.
Who does get 100,000?

Robin Peppiatt.

His fee for the Allied Chemicals
negligence case is over �100,000.

Yes. That's a civil matter, Hilda,
and Peppiatt is a QC.

- Why aren't you a QC, Rumpole?
- Hilda!

Well, why aren't you?
Phyllida Erskine-Brown's a QC.

You may not have noticed, but I bear no
resemblance to Phyllida Erskine-Brown.

- In the first place I'm not a woman...
- I want you to pull up your socks.

And if you don't... Well...

it's quite likely
you may spend your old age alone.

- (Whispers) Promises, promises.
- What did you say?

"I'd miss you, miss you, Hilda," I said.

Yes, I expect you would.
We're missing "The City Programme".

'We're still hearing a lot
about crime in the City.

'What's the reason?
The after effects of Big Bang? '

'The City isn't what it was.
I'm afraid not.'

'What do you mean, exactly? '

'When I first joined the firm
which now bears my name... '

'- Japhet Jarroway? '
- 'Exactly.'

'A stockbroker's word was his bond.
We had our rules.

'You'd no more break them than
fail to offer your seat to a lady

'or eat peas with a knife.
We never heard of insider dealing.

'Why? Not because
there were any laws against it,

'because it just wasn't on. Now we have
a flood of young men in the City,

"'barrow boys", "spivs",
I call some of them.

"'Wide boys".
No wonder you get in trouble.

- 'Thank you, Sir Christopher.'
- No, not a bit.

'That was Sir Christopher Japhet
of Japhet Jarroway Stockbrokers.'

Sir Christopher.

And he looked a great deal younger
than you.

You see, Craigie, I get to my office
the same time as my daughter,

that means I'm a Yuppy at heart.
Ha ha.

- Yes, Sir Christopher.
- Yeah. Ha ha.

I was just saying to Craigie,
I'm still a Yuppy at heart.

What's the matter, Rosie?
Is it this wretched case?

What did you mean
about "barrow boys"?

Some people in the City.
Not at Japhet's of course.

- Good morning, Sir Christopher.
- Morning, Pertwee.

- You didn't mean Nigel?
- Good God, no.

As far as I'm concerned
Nigel Timson's a bloody hard worker.

- I don't believe for a moment...
- So long as you didn't mean Nigel.

If a chap's a hard worker,
I don't need to know about his family.

- You know anything about his family?
- Not much.

Except there's lots and lots of them.
He's asked me to tea when this is over.

I'm sure it's perfectly all right.

I couldn't wish for a harder worker.

I want you to be happy,
you know that, don't you?

Your mother and I
only want you to be happy.

(Sobbing)

It was a famous victory, Henry.

Got Fred Timson off
on the warehouse break-in.

Insufficient identification.

Oh, yeah?
Justice was done, was it?

- What's eating you, Henry?
- Nothing, I'm reading.

- Oh, really? What's the book?
- It's not a book, sir, it's a brochure.

"Come to the land of the koala bear
and the kookaburra.

"Sport topless on Bondi beach,
surfers' paradise.

"Watch the cricket at Melbourne,
take the family to the footie."

Do I deduce from this you are planning
a holiday in the antipodes?

Not a holiday, Mr Rumpole.

Besides, your con's waiting for you.
It's another Timson.

Things aren't what they were
with the Big Bang,

not since the market's been falling.
People are losing their jobs.

They say in order to supplement your
income you did some insider dealing.

- And, of course, you know what that is.
- Of course, Mr Rumpole. Don't you?

Don't I? Know what insider dealing is?

Of course I do. Yes.

But I thought it might be better all round
if you explained it in your own words.

- Explain it to you?
- Yes, please.

- But you know.
- I know I know.

But the jury doesn't know I know.
How would you explain it to them?

Don't the prosecution have to do that?

Come on, Nigel. We can't leave
everything to the prosecution.

Well...

...there's this little fish
swimming along...

Little fish?

A little company.
Cornucopia Preserves and Jams Ltd.

First class marmalade. Adorns
our breakfast table at Gloucester Road.

It's undervalued stock. There's a big
factory, lots of shops on street corners.

It seemed WGI
was about to make a dawn raid.

- WGI?
- Worldwide Groceries Incorporated.

Ah, yes, of course, dawn raid.

Puts me in mind of my old days
in the RAF ground staff.

It was a takeover bid, a jump to buy
the stock before anyone woke up to it.

Before it happened I'd bought �68,000
worth of Cornucopia shares for a client.

And then Cornucopia shares
went soaring up.

They say you'd got to know
about the dawn raid.

Yes, which was being planned where?

In the Corporate Finance Department
of our firm, Japhet Jarroway.

- Well then you could have...
- No. It was in a different department.

- Behind a Chinese wall.
- Behind a what?

Yeah, a wall of silence.

Between departments in the same
building. We call them Chinese walls.

Yes, of course, I knew that.

I just wanted to see how you'd explain it
for the benefit of the jury.

Not everyone stays in their right place
behind these imaginary constructions.

- Well, everyone in our firm does.
- Are you sure?

You'd be out on your ear
if you broke the rules.

Oh, really?

Sir Christopher Japhet,
our chairman,

very keen on the sanctity
of Chinese walls.

- Bit of a Mandarin, is he?
- You could say that.

- The woman you bought the shares for?
- Miss Gloag.

Yes, Miss Mabel Gloag.

- You never met her?
- No.

Apparently,
someone had recommended us.

She had a bit of money
and I moved it about a bit for her.

She said she wanted to put her legacy,
�68,000, into Cornucopia shares.

- Which you did for her?
- Yes.

- I sold them, she doubled her money.
- After the takeover?

What was she like?

- I never met her.
- Well, you spoke to her on the phone.

She sounded rather a nice old lady.
It surprised me.

What surprised you?

I suppose that she was dealing
on the Stock Exchange.

Uh-huh...

Her cheque was sent to a Post Office
Box number in Harrogate in Yorkshire.

I suppose that's where she lived.
She never gave us an address.

Presumably someone calling themselves
Miss Mabel Gloag picked up her letters.

And after the transaction
was completed,

some anonymous well-wisher paid
20,000 smackers into your bank account

in the National West Country Bank
in London Walk.

- I can only think...
- What?

That was Miss Gloag,
showing her gratitude.

I never got to thank her.

- You told her where you banked?
- No, that's the strange thing, no.

- I never did.
- Really?

Mr Bernard, trace this Miss Mabel Gloag
and get a statement out of her.

It seems you know
Sir Christopher Japhet's daughter.

We've been going out together
for about six months.

I suppose that means staying in
together, on the Isle of Dogs?

Well, yes.
We make up a Dink.

- A Dink? Do translate.
- Double Income, No Kids.

- That's what we call it.
- How quaint.

Now it seems I'm a Yid.

- Really?
- Young Indictable Dealer.

It's not really very funny, is it?

We've got to start learning
a new language, do you realise that?

You can forget about tea leaves
and shooters.

We're in a strange new world of Dinks,
dawn raids and Chinese walls.

Doesn't it make you a bit nostalgic
for the simple old days

where you just smashed a window,
grabbed some loot and ran?

The world's changed, God knows
how we're going to get used to it.

You think I did it, don't you?

That's for the jury to decide.

(Nigel) I've found it.
It was in my Filofax all the time.

- What have you found?
- I remembered.

I was busy once when she rang.
She gave me a number to ring back.

- Hello. Is that Harrogate 2751?
- Whose number?

Can I speak to Miss Mabel Gloag,
please?

Who is that please?

The landlord?

No, er... GIoag.
G-L-O-A-G. Mabel Gloag.

(Sighs) Well, thank you.

Who on earth
have you been trying to ring?

The Old Yorkshire Grey.
It's a pub in Harrogate.

It seems they've never heard
of Mabel Gloag.

What's the matter with the woman?
Doesn't she exist or something?

(Shouts) Hilda!

Good news, Hilda!

No, I haven't taken silk.

But it's a money brief.

Not on Legal Aid.

A huge City scandal.

One that requires my considerable
financial expertise.

They've privatised the electricity.

"To bring you to your senses, Rumpole,
perhaps if I leave you alone,

"you'll have time to think seriously
about your career."

Gone?

Gone!

"'Sleep that knits up
the ravelled sleeve of care,

"'balm of hurt minds,
great nature's second course,

"'chief nourisher in life's feast."'

(Phone rings)

Hello? Yes, Rumpole speaking.

Fred Timson?

Oh, I'd forgotten for a minute, you're free
to make phone calls now, aren't you?

Help? What, what...

Oh, young Nigel.
Well, that's very decent of you.

Well, we're trying to trace a woman
called Miss Mabel Gloag.

She had a Post Office Box number
in Harrogate, since vanished...

Well, Mr Bernard's doing his best.

Well, that'll be splendid.
Thank you.

All right, bye.

(Rumpole)
'Oh, Timson hath murdered sleep.'

You know, Rumpole, I've been waiting
four years to join the Sheridan Club.

Isn't that rather a paltry ambition

for someone who can sit through
"Tannh�user" without laughing?

Phylli thinks it would help me
to get on and to take silk.

Wives!

They're always more ambitious for
a fellow than he's ambitious for himself.

Yes.

- Ballard's threatening to blackball me.
- Why on earth?

He's on the Committee.
He's going...

He's going to remind them
of that unfortunate incident

when I was photographed
in "Kitten A Go Go".

But you were completely exonerated.

You'd only gone in
to inspect the scene of a crime.

But Ballard says club members should
be like Caesar's wife, above suspicion.

And if he decides to blackball, the others
on the Committee might follow his lead.

What have we done to have Soapy
Sam Ballard as Head of Chambers?

I have...

- Well, come in, you fellows.
- We're in.

Yes, well, sit yourselves down.

- (Rumpole) Hello, dear.
- I have...

I have reason to believe that a crime's
been committed of major proportions.

Somebody's nicked the nailbrush
from the downstairs loo.

I received a fee of �50
for an opinion in a breathalyser.

I signed the receipt, of course,
in the usual manner.

You come a bit cheap, as one
of Her Majesty's Queen's Counsel!

Do any of you remember how old
Pelham Widdershins became a QC?

- Please, Uncle Tom...
- I'll tell you.

The Lord Chancellor had two lists,

one for the chaps
he was gonna make QCs,

and the other for those he was gonna
invite for a spot of shooting.

Well, it seemed he got a bit fuddled
and mixed up the two lists.

Old Pelham was absolute
sudden death to a woodcock,

but never dared open his mouth in court.

In spite of that,
he was given a silk gown

and put QC after his name,
much to everyone's amazement.

I still don't understand.
Do you shoot, Ballard?

Well, perhaps, Rumpole, I got silk

because I don't regard the criminal law
of England solely as a subject for jokes

about nail brushes and such like matters.

Now, if we might return
to the subject in hand.

By all means. You were to tell us
about your breathalyser.

Yes, I know, I know.

Now, I signed the receipt and gave
the cheque back to Henry to bank.

That cheque,
it is my painful duty to tell you,

never reached
the National West Country,

nor have I yet received
a satisfactory explanation.

- Eaten by mice.
- (Ballard) Try to take things seriously.

Maybe Rumpole's right. There are mice
in that old cupboard in the clerk's room.

I sometimes have a sneaky feeling
they've been at the digestive biscuits.

Yes, yes, yes.

Now, I've told Henry, he has to give me
a satisfactory explanation.

How much was it?
Fifty quid?

Oh, yes. He'll retire and live on that
for the rest of his life.

Come to think of it, I've seen Henry
reading a brochure about Australia.

Thank you, Hoskins.
That is extremely valuable evidence.

And how do we imagine that he affords
a vintage Triumph sports car?

By having the intelligence to be
a barrister's clerk and not a barrister.

He sits in comfort,
takes 10�% of our hard-earned cash

while we slog out to do breathalysers
on the cheap.

And slog home on the Underground,
speaking for myself.

Of course, Phylli usually has the Rover.

Oh, I agree.
Yes, and I've seen our typist...

- (Hoskins) Dianne.
- Dianne. I've seen her...

- Dianne.
- Yes!

I have seen our typist, Dianne,
riding beside Henry in that, er,

what you call it?

...Triumphant car.
With the roof open.

I understand he gives her
a lift home occasionally.

No, no, no.
His marriage is on the rocks, Rumpole.

When a fellow's marriage is on the rocks
he can't be trusted with a cheque.

Oh, really?
How's your marriage, Ballard?

You know perfectly well
I'm a bachelor.

Then aren't you in the position
of a life-Iong vegetarian

giving us your recipe for a steak
and kidney pie?

Let us try to keep
to the, er, matter in hand.

Is it the opinion of the meeting

that I tell Henry he has to account
for the missing cheque or else?

- Or else what?
- He must look elsewhere for a job.

I assume we want to avoid
the embarrassment of a prosecution.

- I support the Head of Chambers.
- Thank you, Erskine-Brown.

I think that we in Chambers
should support each other.

I shall be behind you in this, Ballard,

as I expect you to be behind me
in... another matter.

Another matter?

(Whispers) He means his membership
of the Sheridan Club.

I can't promise you that, Erskine-Brown.

No. Each case I feel
must be decided strictly on its merits.

Now, all those in favour
of an ultimatum to Henry?

And those against?

Well then,
the resolution is clearly carried.

I suggest we all go home,

by Underground train,
as you have observed, Erskine-Brown.

Alas, my Underground train

will be carrying me to a bachelor
establishment in Waltham Cross.

Not all of us have been blessed
with the warmth

and loving companionship
of married life as...

...as you have, Rumpole.

Hello, sunshine.
Oh, blimey.

Times have changed.
Champagne on the Isle of Dogs.

You know young Nigel's dad, Andy,
was born round here.

Spent his life working his way up
to Shepherd's Bush.

Our young Nigel's come back
to live down the East End.

Makes you laugh, don't it?

Cheers, miss. I just wanted to say
that if the lad's in need of a bit of help,

like someone to say he was down
the Needle Arms at the time in question.

Sorry?

Nigel's with his solicitor.

They're trying to find a witness,
somewhere up north, Harrogate, in fact.

- A Miss Mabel Gloag.
- Gloag, you tell me?

Lives in Harrogate?
Here, that's Yorkshire, ain't it?

My cousin Den lives up in Yorkshire.
I think he's at liberty at the moment.

Let us see what we can do.

(Horn toots)

Oh, lovely views you've got up here,
miss.

My cousin Cyril's lad,
he's gone into the window cleaning.

You can trust him not to nick anything,
seeing as you're family.

Last orders please.
Come along now, gentlemen, last orders.

It's Henry.
Henry, Henry, a last order?

I'll take a gin and Dubonnet with you.

A gin Dubonnet, please, Jack,

and a glass of Ch�teau
Thames "Embanquement", please.

Soapy Sam Ballard,
our learned Head of Chambers...

He thinks I've robbed him
of �50, don't he?

Wants me out on my ear, don't he?
Well, he's welcome, that's all I can say.

He's very exceedingly welcome.

- I'm just closing.
- Yes, on the slate, Jack, please.

- Er... Legal Aid cheque's in the post.
- Oh, here, have it on me.

Oh, don't worry, Mr Rumpole.
It isn't Mr Ballard's money.

He can say what he likes, Mr Ballard,

'cause if I'm sacked for thieving,
Mr Rumpole,

how can I face my wife
and the neighbours in Bexley...

...Bexleyheath, eh? How could
my marriage possibly survive?

Quite frankly a new life beckons.

- Well, wouldn't your wife stand by you?
- (Jack) We're closing!

My wife, Mr Rumpole,
has gone into public life.

She has taken her seat on the Council.

She is Chair
of the Disabled Toilets Enquiry

and Chair of the Senior Citizens
Equal Opportunities in Catering.

These responsibilities
keep her out every evening.

- Do you know what I return home to?
- No.

- I return home to a cheese on toast.
- Oh, dear me.

Have you any conceptions of what it's
like to find yourself married to a Chair?

You thought
you were married to a woman,

instead of which you find yourself tied
to an article of furniture.

Oh, too true, that, Mr Rumpole.
Too very true.

- I'll tell you something else.
- Please, feel free.

Now she's active in local government,
there's no stopping her getting mayor.

In due course of time, I shall serve out
my year as her Lady Mayoress.

- My heart bleeds for you, Henry.
- Only one way out, frankly.

- Only one means of escape.
- What, what, what?

Could my wife appear with a Mayoress
sacked from his job for petty theft?

That would cause some
embarrassment at the ceremony.

Ah, too true, Mr Rumpole.
Too very true.

And to spare her that,

I would start a new life in the Dandenong
Mountains. The State of Victoria.

There must be barristers' chambers
in the "Dondenang" Mountains.

I'm not clerking any more.

- I'm gonna take up a new career.
- You don't want to be a barrister!

It is my intention, sir,
to go into show business.

Only much the same thing, really.

I starred in "Private Lives" opposite Miss
Osgood from the Old Bailey list office.

- Something of a hit, as I remember.
- A rave notice, that's all.

Well, Dianne... You know Dianne?

Ah! Plucky but somewhat
hit-and-miss typist.

Her cousin runs the Commonwealth Inn
in the Dandenongs.

She's going as receptionist
and I'll be in charge of entertainments.

- Henry, you're going to perform.
- In cabaret. From time to time.

I might make a personal appearance.

Yes, I'm working up a nostalgia number.

Songs from the war time years,
as my father used to sing them.

- (Sings) "Roll out the barrel..."
- Exactly so.

- "Let's have a barrel of fun."
- Sorry, time's up, Mr Rumpole.

I tell you what dear...
dear old Lady Mayoress,

let's have a nightcap at home.

Round yours, Mr Rumpole?
Why ever not, sir?

I'm leading a somewhat bachelor
existence in the Gloucester Road.

- Oh, a bachelor existence, sir?
- Yes.

You gentlemen get all the luck.

Do you remember this one, sir?

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy
When skies are blue...

Mind how you go now.

There you are, Henry.

We're in the dark.

And Billie Winnie shall go to sleep

In his own little room again...

Make yourself at home, Henry.

I'll just get the bottle opener.

Take cover, Henry.

Ah!

- Daddy would never have done it!
- Ah, please, Hilda.

I have a long day in court coming up
and I'm not feeling quite up to snuff.

- Is this coffee?
- Of course, it's coffee!

What have you been having for
breakfast while I was away, Red Biddy?

I know Pommeroys is hardly Ch�teau
Latour, but to call it Red Biddy...

I go away to spend a few days
with an old school friend...

- Hilda came with me.
- Just a few days with Dodo.

I think she wanted to give you time
to think things over.

I come back and I find you
carousing with your clerk.

- Have either of you got an aspirin?
- I don't think drugs are the answer.

- Don't do it in the first place.
- No. But if you've already done it...

It's so terribly important at the moment,
isn't it, Hilda,

that Rumpole should only do the done
thing at this moment in his career?

- Exactly, Dodo.
- What do you mean "Exactly, Dodo"?

At what moment?

Now that you've applied to the Lord
Chancellor to make you a QC.

It wouldn't look quite the thing to have
Rumpole QC singing with his clerk!

- But I have not applied to the Lord...
- Oh, yes, you have, Rumpole.

I can remember last night
perfectly clearly.

- I think I did not...
- I made the application for you.

- What!
- I wrote to the Lord Chancellor.

I put that Rumpole should take his place
in the front row without further delay.

Hilda, you didn't.

Someone has to
take your career in hand.

Ah, for God's sake,
hasn't anybody got an aspirin?

Er... Mr Rumpole.
You know my cousin, Dennis.

Of course.
The Pennywise Bank robbery.

Den's living up north. He carried out
a few investigations on behalf of Nigel.

I called round the Old Yorkshire Grey
in Harrogate.

A mate of mine
is on friendly terms with the landlord.

- We're trying to get hold of Miss Gloag.
- Right, Mabel Gloag. Did you find her?

- Quite frankly, Mr Rumpole, no.
- Thanks for trying.

The guv'nor of the Yorkshire Grey,
he did say

an old girl was always talking about
the stocks and shares she was buying.

Apparently she used to go in there
in the morning, have a Guinness or two,

then use the phone
to ring her stock-broker.

- A Mrs Prescott.
- Prescott. That's not much help.

- Anything else known about her?
- No, not really.

Respectable old trout, apparently.

Always talking about some City family
whose children she used to nurse.

Seems that's where she got her taste
for high finance.

Mrs Prescott.
Nanny Prescott.

- Is she still about?
- No, he hasn't seen her in three months.

I wonder...

- The judge is coming, Mr Rumpole.
- Yes.

(Whispers) Better get to work.

Yeah, er... sorry I couldn't be more help,
Mr Rumpole.

(Mouthing)

Yes, Mr Hector Vellacott?

What the Crown says is this,

having got hold of the secret information

that Cornucopia Jams were about to be
taken over by Worldwide Groceries,

this young man, Nigel Timson,
bought no less than �68,000

worth of Cornucopia shares.

When the takeover bid was completed,
those shares doubled their value.

I say he bought them,
members of the jury.

He may to tell you that he bought them
for a client, a Miss Mabel Gloag.

Who is this Miss Mabel Gloag,
you may well ask.

Nanny Prescott.
It's just not possible.

- Why did you say that?
- What?

- Nanny Prescott.
- Why, do you know her?

That was the name of our old nanny.
Years ago, when we were kids.

- Mrs Prescott.
- Er...

Did she have a Christian name,
by any chance?

Maybee, that's what we used to call her.

Maybee, Mabel.

Look, if you had a look, do you think

you could dig out a photograph
of this queen of the nursery?

- Mr Rumpole.
- My Lord?

It's customary for Counsel
and solicitors

to discuss their cases
before coming into court,

not during the opening speech
for the prosecution.

Yes, thank you, My Lord,
Oh, is my learned friend still opening?

Fascinating stuff, of course.

- I shall be all attention.
- Yes! Mr Vellacott.

The sum of �20,000 was paid

into the defendant's bank account
when the transaction was completed.

Can you doubt, members of the jury,

that this was the defendant's first dip
into his ill-gotten gains?

No doubt spent on his champagne
and his Porsche motorcar...

My Lord, I object. What this man
chooses to drink is entirely irrelevant.

Mr Vellacott, will there be any evidence
as to the defendant's earnings?

In a good year with bonuses,
about 70,000.

- Sir Christopher Japhet's evidence.
- Good God. That's more than...

More than an Old Bailey judge earns,
was your Honour about to say?

- (Laughter)
- Silence!

It's a considerable sum of money,

particularly if it's added to
by the proceeds of illegal dealings.

- Yes, Mr Vellacott?
- My Lord, I call Mr Shillingford.

Now's a good time to duck out.

(Usher) Mr Hugo Shillingford.

Thank you.
Just wait there, will you, Mr Shillingford.

Mr Shillingford, you said you were not
a close friend of Nigel Timson?

Well, I mean,
we never went to school together.

He went to Wapping Comprehensive
and the Shepherd's Bush market.

He gained his financial expertise
fixing the price of Cox's Orange Pippins.

Isn't he what you young gentlemen
of the City would call a "barrow boy",

as distinct from a Harrow boy?

I didn't know all that about Nigel.

But you knew he hadn't gone
to a public school?

Yes, I knew that.

Now... (Coughs) When he said he'd
made a killing on Cornucopia shares,

did he not also add the words
"For some little old lady in Harrogate"?

- I didn't hear that.
- You didn't hear him say that?

What... What were you celebrating
in the wine bar?

- Was it your birthday on that occasion?
- Yes it was, now I come to think of it.

And were you occupied
doing some juggling?

Occupied doing some what,
Mr Rumpole?

Juggling with a couple of champagne
glasses and a bottle of Dom P�rignon.

- Juggling with Dom P�rignon?
- As a matter of fact I was.

I rather think I dropped it.

Ah yes!
And at that tragic moment,

might Nigel Timson not have mentioned
the old lady when you weren't listening?

Yes. Yes, I suppose he might.

Thank you.
Now one other matter.

Haven't there been suspicions of
previous insider dealings at your firm?

This can't be relevant.

Whether it is or not, it can't possibly
help your client, Mr Rumpole.

We have seen DI Arbuthnot's statement
about previous suspect deals.

I have no intention of putting in that
evidence in fairness to the accused.

In fairness to the accused
I would like an answer to the question.

What is it, Mr Shillingford?

There was a lot of talk, yes,

that someone had used information from
the Finance Department to buy shares.

- Thank you, much obliged.
- "Someone used information..." Mmm.

- Sir Christopher Japhet.
- Yes?

This way, sir.

- You don't like barrow boys, do you?
- Excuse me?

I don't think the witness understands
that question better than I do.

Your Lordship is quite wrong about that.

Sir Christopher
understands me very well.

You did an interview on television
for "The City Programme", didn't you?

Yes, I did.

You said the crime wave in the City
was due to the number of barrow boys

that have got
into the Stock Exchange.

I said the traditions of a gentleman's
word being his bond had died out.

- I regret it.
- I'm sure we all regret it, sir.

The standard of gentlemanly behaviour
is declining.

Even in the legal profession.
Yes, Mr Rumpole?

Nigel Timson came to you
as an office boy.

I believe so.

And he obtained his present position
by honest hard work.

I believe he was honest... to start with.

- Got to know your daughter rather well.
- They became quite friendly, yes.

Don't let's mince matters.

They live together in a fashionable
address on the Isle of Dogs?

- Really, Mr Rumpole!
- Well, what's the answer, sir?

Has your client instructed you to attack
the honour of this gentleman's daughter?

My client's honour has been attacked.
He is accused of being dishonest.

What on earth can his relations with
Miss Japhet possibly have to do with it?

- My Lord, may I make a suggestion?
- What is it?

That your Lordship sits quietly
and allows me to develop the defence?

Whether I succeed or not
will be entirely a matter for the jury.

- If your Lordship pleases.
- Well, perhaps I can help.

My daughter and Nigel Timson
are living together, yes.

Thank you, sir. That's the frankness
I would expect from you.

Now, perhaps we can pass
to something relevant.

Oh, certainly.

Have you found out much
about Nigel Timson's family?

I made certain enquiries.

Have you discovered that
several clan members

have had more convictions
than we've had hot dinners?

(Loud laughter)

(Usher) Silence!
(Judge) Mr Rumpole.

Has this led you to view
young Nigel Timson with disfavour?

I only want my daughter to be happy.

But you don't want her
to marry a barrow boy.

I'd rather my daughter not marry
into the Timson's family.

- If I have to be honest.
- Yes, sir. You have to be honest.

And is that why
you are giving evidence against him

on this vague charge of insider dealing?

I have given evidence
because it is the truth!

(Judge) "It is the truth."

- Have you any more questions?
- Just a few, my Lord.

Get the clerk down
to the National Registry.

Ask for the marriage certificate
of Mrs Mabel Prescott, n�e Gloag.

Prescott.

Sir Christopher,
have there been suspicions

of previous insider dealing in your firm
prior to the Cornucopia takeover?

- Unfortunately, yes.
- Yes.

Might not the person
responsible for that

have wanted to put the blame on
this young barrow boy, Nigel Timson?

- I suppose anything's possible.
- Yes.

Isn't it possible that this person
could have instructed a Miss Gloag

to order her Cornucopia shares
through Nigel Timson,

provided of course that that person
knew that the shares would rise?

I've said it's possible.

And to make matters even worse
for Nigel Timson,

might that person not have paid �20,000
into his bank account anonymously?

He must have been a very generous
someone indeed.

Oh, do you really think so,
out of a profit of 68,000?

You are suggesting that this person

was responsible
for the previous insider deals?

That is precisely what I am suggesting,
Sir Christopher.

Do you have a bank account
in the Cayman Islands?

Have you forgotten how many
bank accounts you've accumulated?

I have a small bank account
in the Cayman Islands, yes.

Yes, at the er...
the Transworld Archipelago Bank?

- I believe that's what the bank is called.
- You believe that that's what it's called.

My Lord, we shall present evidence
that the source of the �20,000

was a bank in the Cayman Islands,

the Transworld Archipelago.

Your daughter, Rose,
a well brought-up girl I've no doubt?

Yes, I hope so.

And her formative years were presided
over by a devoted nursemaid?

- We had a nanny, yes.
- Nanny Prescott?

- Do you believe that was her name?
- That was her name, yes.

Is that photograph
of Nanny Mabel Prescott?

Yes, it is. That's Mrs Prescott
with my daughter, yes.

- Can you tell us where she is now?
- I'm afraid I can't recall.

She has a son in Australia,
perhaps she's gone out there.

Oh, how very convenient.

We have heard that she had
a Post Office Box number in Harrogate.

- Did you know she lived there?
- I heard about a family in Harrogate.

Mr Rumpole, may I ask
where these questions are leading?

- I hope, My Lord, to the truth.
- Which is?

Which is, My Lord,

that you, Sir Christopher,
got your old servant,

using her maiden name of Gloag,

to order the Cornucopia shares
through Nigel Timson.

That you paid the �20,000
into his bank account,

and you did all that to cover up
your own insider dealing.

A brilliant idea, was it not,

to blame it all on one of these
unspeakable barrow boys

that have let down the honourable
traditions of you old City gents.

- What's your answer, sir?
- What an outrageous suggestion!

"Absolutely outrageous..."

(Inaudible whispering)

May I reserve the rest
of my cross-examination until tomorrow?

What's your reason for that,
Mr Rumpole?

(Rumpole)
'In the hope of collecting some evidence

'to back up the outrageous suggestion.'

- Well?
- In consideration of the witness.

- Sir Christopher may be feeling tired.
- Yes.

Excellent idea.

Shall we say 10:30 tomorrow morning,
Sir Christopher?

(Henry) Oh, Mr Rumpole.

We've had the Lord Chancellor's office
on the phone to Chambers.

- Old Keith?
- Yeah.

He wants you to meet him for a drink
at the Sheridan Club.

Old Keith from the Chancellor's office.
Oh, my ears and whiskers.

I thought a drink at my club might be
the best way to get over this situation.

Yes, well, here's mud in your eye...
er, sir.

Thank you.

The Lord Chancellor has received
an awkward letter from Mrs Rumpole.

Ah, yes,
and Mrs Rumpole can be awkward.

She actually suggested
that we give you silk.

The Lord Chancellor was deeply
embarrassed by it.

Sorry. Made him squirm around
on the woolsack, did it?

Some men are natural juniors, Rumpole,
experienced men, highly experienced.

The good old non-commissioned
officers of the Bailey.

Absolutely no criticism of you,
of course, but...

Well, at your age, you know,
and given your type of practice,

silk really is out of the question.

Rumpole QC.
It just can't be done.

- Oh, well.
- So, you'll break it to your wife?

I know she'll be disappointed.
Her father didn't get silk either.

Old Wystan never quite made it.

Battling down the Bailey now, are you?

Oh, yes, a big City fraud,
a bit of insider dealing.

Jolly good show. You'll want
to be getting along home then.

Carry on, Sergeant Rumpole.

- Ah, Rumpole.
- Ah, Ballard.

What a pleasant surprise.
Allow me to buy you a drink.

- What's it to be, a claret?
- A large claret.

A large claret, of course. George,
a large claret and small Perrier water.

You're moving in elevated circles,
aren't you?

Old Keith
from the Lord Chancellor's Office?

- Oh, old Keith, yes.
- Yes, yes. Ha ha!

Keith mention me at all?

Ah, you want to know what Keith said
about you?

- Thanks. How much is that?
- Three pound fifty.

Three pound fif...!
Er, three pound fifty, yes.

Er... here, there's five pounds.
Thank you.

So what did Keith have
to say about me?

Keith said absolutely nothing
about you, Ballard.

A cheque for �50
on Snaresbrook and Higgs.

Was that for the breathalyser
you accused Henry of nicking?

You... erm...
I...

I must have put it in here and...
and forgotten about it, of course.

I'II... I'll tell Henry.

Accusing your faithful clerk of stealing.

I wonder what the Sheridan Club
Committee would say about that?

If I were you, I wouldn't ask anyone
to blackball Claude Erskine-Brown.

No. No, of course not.

No, I've always thought Claude
would make a pretty good member here.

Yes, he might liven the place up a bit.

Bring on the dancing girls.

Er, Rumpole.
Rumpole!

- Yes?
- Might I have a word in your shell-like?

(Whispers) In truth,
we can't find Sir Christopher Japhet.

Oh, you do astonish me.

Have you tried the Grand Cayman?

Maybe he's turned himself
into an off-shore island.

Inspector Arbuthnot seems to think
he's bunked off the country.

- Yes.
- Too quick for us, I'm afraid.

We can't go on against Timson.
The judge is not going to like it.

Don't worry about him.
The shock will bring him back to life.

It seems that Sir Christopher
has absconded, old dear.

And the prosecution's collapsed.

- Oh, yes. Nigel, my son. That's it.
- Yeah?

He's done it.
He's done a runner, ain't he?

Thank you. Thank you.

- Rosie... your father...
- I know.

He's gone.
You did it to him, didn't you?

You and that barrister.
All your family out of various jails.

- (Sighs) Rosie, come back.
- Leave me alone!

Barrow boy!

Dianne, we've been through this
a thousand times!

(Sobs)

Well, you've done it now, Mr Rumpole.

Yes, Henry, another famous victory.

Chief witness against me
made a dash for the airport.

Prosecution up an embarrassing creek
without a paddle.

No, no, no.
I mean you've done me in.

You've only ruined my life, that's all.

But, Henry, don't you know?
Ballard's found the cheque.

It's good news.
Hasn't he apologised?

You found the cheque in his wallet.

You made him apologise.
Where does that leave me?

Where... leaves you?
What do you mean?

Lady Mayoress.
I've got no way out now.

- Oh, Henry.
- I won't have to leave the country.

I can't take up a new career in show
business in the Dandenong Mountains.

Dianne and I won't be travelling
to the Southern Hemisphere now.

I'm stuck for the rest of my life
in Bexleyheath, married to a Chair.

Henry, I'm sorry.

Perhaps you'd be so kind
as to leave me now, Mr Rumpole.

I wish to be alone with my dreams,
what little is left of them.

Oh, by the way, Hilda, I, er... ahem!

I had a little chat today with old Keith
from the Lord Chancellor's office.

- He asked me for a drink in his club.
- He didn't.

Oh, yes, we had a little chat
in the Sheridan.

And what is it now, Rumpole QC?

Ah, no, Hilda.
I'm afraid not.

- Not?
- No.

But he was talking about
your learned father, old CH Wystan.

The man from the Lord Chancellor's
office was talking about daddy?

Yes, at some length.
Saying what a brilliant lawyer he was.

They were gonna make him a QC,
you know.

- Daddy, QC?
- Exactly.

But then he went off to a higher court
as old Keith put it.

The Great Appeals Court in the sky.

- Daddy died.
- Sadly, yes.

And of course
as old CH Wystan had missed it

they could hardly give it
to a mere son-in-law, could they?

There's some rule about there being
too many QCs in the one family.

Yes.
Yes, I do understand, Rumpole.

After daddy, it would be a bit
of a comedown to give it to you.

Er, yes.

But the Lord Chancellor
sent his love from the woolsack,

and said you needn't trouble
to write again.

How very kind of him.
Such a charming man.

Very good legs,
I always think, in breeches.

Rumpole,
are you feeling a little bit chilly?

Would you like another bar
or two of the fire on?

Oh, good heavens,
we're missing "The City Programme".

I was thinking of buying British Airways.

'The sudden disappearance
of Sir Christopher Japhet

'in the middle
of the Old Bailey insider dealing trial

'is likely to cause nervousness
on the London market,

'and a shudder in the Dow-Jones.'

"'Hilda hath murdered sleep

"'and therefore Rumpole
shall sleep no more..."'

(TV) 'Maecenas Holdings
are planning a bid for British prisons

'when they're privatised.'

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