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(AII shout)

I wishes to reason with you

as to whether you should cross this picket line

in an officially recognised dispute.

(Man) What do you think you're doing?

(Sirens approach)

Oh, raise the scarlet standard high

Within its shade, we'll live or die

Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer

We'll keep the red flag flying here

'Oh, morning's at 11:30 approximately.

"'The temple's dew-pearled. The lark's on the wing.

"'The snail's on the thorn. God's in his heaven..."'

And all's right with the world.

Well, more or less all right.

- They're all waiting for you. - Clients, Henry?

Do I have a roomful of errant human beings,

all of them with a blessed tendency to crime?

Not exactly, sir. The members of chambers.

Mr Ballard expected you first thing.

Why? I've nothing in court today.

I mean to laze around with The Times crossword.

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

Mr Ballard expects everyone in by nine, sir.

What is this, a barristers' chambers or a cash and carry?

I couldn't say sir.

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

'Ballard's in his chambers

'and practically everything seems to be wrong with the world.'

Oh, no! Not another chambers meeting?

In the new age of efficiency, Rumpole,

it's more appropriate to call it a board meeting.

Quite right. I'm bored already.

Yours is a voice making jokes in the wilderness, Rumpole.

We have decided, whilst you were doing your minor crime in the north...

It was gross indecency in Leeds.

We've decided to put our weight behind the government's plans

to drag the bar into the 20th century.

There was a chap called Whympering in Fountain Court...

Please, Uncle Tom...

...said he'd drag the bar into the 20th century.

- Please. - He bought a coffee machine

instead of the kettle they used in the refs cupboard.

To give the consumer a proper service,

3 Equity Court will be run on strictly business lines.

You may look on me as chairman of the board

and Claude as managing director.

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

How will our new ideas answer him? Rudely, I hope.

The Office Italiano, this machine was called.

Oh, dear.

It brewed that inky black stuff you got in foreign railway stations.

You each have an agenda.

We're going to work business hours,

nine to six and no more than one hour for luncheon.

And there'll be a form for you to fill in so we can monitor productivity.

How do we monitor your productivity, Claude?

By the number of years in chokey you get for your unfortunate clients?

One day, this Office Italiano machine exploded

and destroyed a lot of original documents.

- Yes... - Including three wills.

- Now... - Oh, dear, it caused an awful stink.

Poor old Whympering. He got sued for negligence.

Uncle Tom.

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

leaner and fitter.

Think you can manage a slimmed-down operation, Rumpole?

Highly comical, Claude. Remember, I make the jokes in chambers meetings.

I hope, in future, we can get through our business in quiet efficiency,

without too many jokes.

- None at all, if you have your way. - He left the bar.

- Took up turkey farming in Norfolk. - Who took up turkey farming?

Whympering, the fellow who introduced the coffee machine.

They went back to the old kettle and gas ring. Far more satisfactory.

I went into the law to be a barrister. I don't want an office job.

Oh, really? Well, times change, Inchcape, and we change with them.

Now, back to Claude's paper.

I'm not sure we want solicitors. Do we need the competition?

I speak as a man with four daughters, who needs every brief he can get.

Well, I suppose, it's possible that some solicitors have daughters too.

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

The Lord Chancellor expects it of us.

No, no. Carry on, Elizabeth. We'd like to hear your contribution.

- Don't be shy. - Why not make it a radical chambers?

- This chap, Whympering... - Uncle Tom.

...was a bit of a radical, wore coloured socks.

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

Stop the government using the courts for union-bashing.

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

- That's the sort of thing... - What? What?

What? Defending trades unions, Miss Probert?

I don't think that's quite the image we want to give No.3 Equity Court.

I'm afraid I agree.

Pleading for the Amalgamated Sausage Skin Operatives, or whatever they are,

not the name of the game at this moment.

Oh, really, Claude? You're a barrister, aren't you?

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

Oh-ho! Got you, old love. Direct hit, below the water line.

Well, really, Elizabeth, isn't that just a little bit hard on a fellow?

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

Brothers. Sister.

It sounds like a family division case.

You come recommended by brother Ron Probert,

chair of the Southeast London Council.

I told you. My dad put in a word for you.

I'm assured that you're taking this case

as an expression of solidarity with the workers' right to withdraw labour.

Let's say it's an expression of my right

to do cases that don't bore me.

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

Me, kill someone? That's a joke, that is!

Oh, manslaughter in jest. No offence in the world.

There is evidence that as the coach driver was carried to the ambulance,

you were heard intoning a ditty about the people's flag being deepest red.

We sings it at social events. It's like "Auld Lang Syne".

Or "Somewhere Over The Rainbow".

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

- Me? Never. - The picket line had over six people.

- That's a code of practice. - Oh, please, Mr Baker.

Let's leave these niceties to Sister Liz.

She has the books. We haven't the time to read them.

Were there more than six people?

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

- Brothers from your place of work? - Not necessarily.

- Brothers you'd never seen before? - Some was.

- We needed all the help we could get. - Even illegal help?

I... suppose so.

- Even a brick through a window? - I didn't do that!

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

- Then he's a bloody liar. - Not a brother, then?

Perhaps a more distant relation.

At the nick you underwent a forensic examination.

They took a liberty.

Brick dust was found on your trousers, shirt and hands.

I was doing some building in the garden!

Oh. So you indulged in a spot of bricklaying.

How extremely convenient!

- So, you think he's guilty? - On the contrary, Sister Liz.

I know he's innocent.

No criminal is going to stand singing "The Red Flag" over his victim's body,

certainly not in the presence of the Old Bill.

You wouldn't find the Timsons doing that.

We might get him off at the committal.

Our only chance is in front of a jury. We say very little at the committal.

- All the same, I'd like you there. - Oh, would you, brother?

- Anything to oblige. - I might need some tips.

Tips, Brother Bernard?

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

A dummy run for the Lord Chancellor's changes,

when solicitors can appear in the highest courts.

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

If I could get to the bar... Thank you so very much.

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

- Industrial action. - Come again?

I'm seriously considering industrial action.

Take my advice and take a drink instead.

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

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

Put it on my slate.

- You're very generous. - Think nothing of it.

If only there were other gentlemen in chambers as generous.

- Meaning? - Meaning... Mr Erskine-Brown.

To name but a few.

You've put your finger on it, sir, as is your way, your invariable way.

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

- Thank you, Jack. - It's not that, sir.

It's his business plan to slim down chambers.

Never trust anybody who wants to slim down anything.

God rot all slimmers.

He's suggesting taking me off my percentage.

A clerk is a constant figure on their balance sheet.

- Should I withdraw my labour? - Industrial action by a barrister's clerk?

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

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

Too true, Mr Rumpole.

Too very true, sir,

so I'd be grateful of your opinion.

My opinion, Henry, is this. We are the last of the free lancers,

the knights errant of the law.

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

We do battle with fire-breathing dragons on the bench

and rescue a few none-too-innocent damsels in distress.

We fit into no-one's business plan or keep office hours

or meet productivity targets,

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

- It could be that our day is done. - Done, Mr Rumpole?

"From too much love of living from hope and fear set free

"We thank with brief thanksgiving whatever gods may be

"That no man lives forever that dead men rise up never

"That even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea."

- Now, doesn't that cheer you up? - Not very much, sir, to be honest.

Same again, Jack, please, if there's any room left on the slate.

Hilda!

Hilda?

Hi...

Hilda?

"Answer came there none

"But that was scarcely odd because she'd went and been and gone."

(Clattering)

- Ah... - It was hanging on the floor.

- What are you doing? - Looking for the note.

- What note? - "Your stew is in the oven."

- There isn't one. - No note?

- And no stew in the oven. - Oh, well er...

Chops, actually. I'd rather prefer chops.

There aren't any chops either.

Oh, well, anything, really. I'm not fussy.

Couldn't you whip something up?

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

I waited for you until nearly half past nine,

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

There was a problem in chambers. I had to cossimerate with...

I had... I had to commiserate with Henry.

Yes, and no doubt that meant carousing with him.

Well, I had to carouse a bit in order to cossi...

...to sympathise with him.

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

Well, your daddy wasn't really one to carouse with anybody, was he?

I hope you drew the line at singing.

Oh, certainly. No, we did not sing. Things had gone well beyond singing.

I did recite a bit of poetry.

Couldn't you turn your hand to a bit of cookery?

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

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

- Hilda, you're not leaving home? - No, Rumpole, I'm not leaving home.

Oh, good. Good.

I am taking industrial action, withdrawing my labour.

Oh, Hilda... Not you too?

As for the brick dust on our client's trousers, we have a complete answer.

Don't tell them what it is.

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

My sentiments entirely.

But he was building a wall, sir, so there's no evidence.

Mr Bernard, I have a statement from a Mr Gerald Jebb,

saying that he saw your client hurl the brick.

But, sir, what about the presumption of innocence?

Oh, very well, Mr Bernard.

What of it?

With the evidence in doubt,

my client is entitled to an acquittal.

That is the golden thread that runs through British justice.

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

and I put it to you, sir, that you couldn't find my client guilty

on a charge of a non-renewed dog licence

on the vague and unsatisfactory evidence of this fellow, Jebb.

(Whispers) Not now, darling. We don't do that bit now.

Mr Bernard, your client will be committed to trial

at the Central Criminal Court,

before a jury and a judge.

As you please, sir.

I hope he's a judge with no prejudice against trades unions.

They think they're above the law, these union bosses, over and above it.

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

- The summer of discontent, I call it. - Reminds me of the French Revolution.

Does it, Wilfred? Oh, well, yes, I suppose it does.

Well, old Rumpole will not get away with it again.

- With the French Revolution, My Lord? - Don't be silly. With manslaughter.

There's a sort of legend going around

that old Rumpole gets away with it all the time?

Even my wife, even Lady Featherstone, thinks

Rumpole can twist me round his little finger.

An astute lady, if I may say so, My Lord.

Be that as it may, he won't get away with this one.

I've taken a look at Baker. I don't like what I see.

I'm going to pot him good and proper.

In off the red! He won't be able to go on strike in prison.

(Knock on door)

- Yes? Ah, Simon! - Guthrie, a moment of your time.

Yes, delighted. Come in.

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

- No, no. Do stay, Alfred. - Wilfred, My Lord.

- Yes. We value your opinion. - Potty, My Lord.

- All the clerks think so. - Solicitors sitting on the bench.

Solicitors in the House of Lords,

before we know where we are, overturning judgements.

- Some of my friends are solicitors... - Are they indeed?

Oh, well, not my most intimate friends, of course,

but good acquaintances, and I don't want to hear them talk all the time.

You and I had enough of that sort of thing at the bar.

- I'm so glad you're sound on this one. - Yes, I am.

Now, speaking as the senior judge on the circuit...

You are, Simon. You're the senior judge.

A few of us plan to meet,

Mavings from the Court of Appeal, Egbert from Chancery

and a chap from the family division.

- We have to take action. - What, you mean...

- You mean our jobs are at risk? - Who knows? Anything can happen.

- Could you be free? - Let them try and stop me.

Two o'clock in my room. We value your support.

- Well, thank you, Simon. - Cheerio.

Thank you... most awfully.

Did you hear that, Wilfred?

Our jobs are at risk.

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

Mr Jebb, from your position, did you see the defendant stoop down?

My Lord, I didn't know leading questions were allowed,

even in cases against trades union officials.

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

- Yes, carry on, Mr Ballard. - I'm obliged to Your Lordship.

What did you see Baker do?

He stooped down, picked up a brick and hurled it at the coach driver.

- Did he hurl it hard? - Mr Ballard!

- He hurled it with full force. - Hurled it with full force at the driver.

Thank you, Mr Jebb.

Have you any questions, Mr Rumpole?

- You saw my client stoop down? - Yes, I did.

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

He got out of its way.

- Was the driver trying to kill him? - I'm not sure what he was doing.

Just as you're not sure what my client was doing when he stumbled.

He just said he saw your client hurl a brick.

I'm sure Mr Ballard is most grateful to Your Lordship

for that intervention.

Just one more thing.

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

You made your statement three weeks afterwards.

- Why? - I didn't want to get him in trouble.

You've got him into trouble now.

- Why change your mind? - I thought I should tell the truth.

"Because I thought I should tell the truth."

Well, have you finished, Mr Rumpole?

I may have some more questions for this witness later.

I'm waiting for certain instructions.

'I mean, I'm waiting for inspiration.'

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

He is clearly a vital witness.

I'm sure that Mr Ballard will undertake to have him available.

You'll see that he's here, won't you, Mr Ballard,

in case Mr Rumpole can think of any further questions?

Certainly, My Lord.

The inspector foresees no difficulty.

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

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

My Lord, I object. That is irrelevant.

I overrule your objection, Mr Rumpole.

He talked about bashing people, especially on the bosses' side.

Ah. Thank you, Mr Jebb. That is extremely helpful.

'About as helpful as a cup of cold porridge, old darling.'

Mr Ballard, Mr Rumpole, I'm afraid I shan't be able to sit this afternoon.

- Oh. May we ask why, My Lord? - No.

- No? - Well, I mean, yes. Yes, of course.

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

I will rise now.

(Court officer) Be upstanding.

Shot off like a rabbit out of a trap. What sort of public duty?

Sorry, Rumpole. Lunch with Dave Inchcape.

Isn't she looking delicious today?

- Who? - Your learned junior, Rumpole.

It's the contrast, isn't it,

between the impish little face and the strict white wig?

No disrespect to you, but I couldn't take my eyes off her.

- How's your wife, Erskine-Brown? - Philli?

Doing a grand corruption in Hong Kong.

We see so little of each other nowadays.

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

She'd never come.

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

The way she ticked me off at the meeting.

I don't want you to get the wrong idea.

I have in mind a social event, entirely innocent.

- You believe that, don't you? - Of course, Claude.

Everyone's innocent until proven guilty.

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

- Help me, Horace? - Yes.

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

and despite my not being born a member of a minority or female

or a one-parent family, she sometimes takes my advice.

Do you think you could advise her?

I couldn't connive at anything but a musical evening.

Purely musical. I promise you. Scout's honour.

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

There'll be bluebirds over

The White Cliffs of Dover

Tomorrow

Just you wait and see

There'll be joy... and laughter

And something ever after

Tomorrow, when the world is free

The ship...

The ship...

The shi...

Aaahh!

(BIows)

Aaahh!

- Aaahh! - Rumpole?

Shall I call the fire brigade?

Er... not necessary any longer. I was just cooking dinner.

Really? I thought you were arranging an interesting collection of fossils.

Hilda, I've had no training in this line of work!

You should have thought of that before you stayed out.

Couldn't we refer it to the ACAS conciliation service

or discuss it over beer and sandwiches like they used to do?

(Doorbell rings)

- What's that? - It sounds like the doorbell. I'll go.

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

We've never met, Mrs Rumpole, after all your old man's done for my family.

A friend of yours, apparently, Rumpole.

What? Oh, Dennis! Dennis Timson! How are you?

Senior member of the Timson clan,

a notorious family of South London villains,

that have kept us in saucepan scourers and such like for the last 30 years.

- Villains? - Naughty boys.

That's what your husband means, dear.

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

Anyway, I was in the vicinity... Not to get up to any naughtiness.

I wasn't doing over the downstairs or nothing.

I thought I'd pop up, having some info that may be of use to your husband.

Oh, well, sit down. Why not stay to supper. Hilda hasn't eaten yet.

Thank you, no.

I shall have some cheesy bits at Lady Featherstone's bridge lesson.

Goodbye, Mr Shrimpton. I don't suppose you'll be here when I get back.

- I'll er... I'll see you out. - Thank you, Rumpole.

I can find my way out of my own flat.

I'm sorry, Dennis. My er... my wife had a previous engagement.

Yeah, well, I called at your place of business, Mr Rumpole,

but Henry said you was out buying groceries.

- I find that hard to believe. - Difficult times, Dennis.

They call it the summer of discontent.

Well, now, what is it? Got yourself into trouble, have you?

No. Well, not at the moment.

Oh, well... You're not on strike too, are you?

No, of course not. I thought I might be able to help you.

- Really? - Yes.

I thought I'd tell you about our holiday in Marbella.

- Got some snaps for me, have you? - As a matter of fact, I have.

Our enjoyment was a little bit spoilt by the arrival of this shower.

- Hey, isn't that the Malloy family? - Including young Peanuts.

In view of this case you're working on,

I thought you might be interested in the Malloys' vehicle.

"Ernie Elver's Luxie Charas,

"complete with toilets and double-glazing."

And young Peanuts.

Yes. Notice the grey-haired party with his arm around Peanuts' Aunt Dolly?

- By God, I notice him! - Yeah, Gerry Jebb.

Used to drive getaways for Peanuts' father.

Did he indeed? Oh, you're a treasure, Dennis.

- Bless you. Can I keep that? - Yeah, sure.

Look, why not stay to supper?

Er... no. I don't think so, Mr Rumpole. Look, why don't we attack a chink?

- What are you talking about? - Go for a Chinese.

The only way you'll get a radical chambers,

is to persuade Claude to stop trying to be a whizz kid,

go back to the old ways.

Equity Court will be a place fit for freelancers.

We can rescue the brothers.

- And who's going to persuade Claude? - The person with the most influence.

- Someone he'd do anything to impress. - You mean you?

No. You.

Tell him you liked him better when he was an old-fashioned lawyer,

preserving the best traditions of the bar, taking snuff...

Tell him he was er... sexier like that.

Rumpole, are you suggesting I use my femininity?

It's in a good cause. Put up with some Wagner in the interests of justice.

(Chuckles)

Wilfred, is the judge going to honour us with his presence this morning?

Bless you. Yes, Mr Rumpole.

We're not going on strike yet.

- On strike? - It may come to it.

That's what our judge said.

"If the Lord Chancellor wishes to put a solicitor over our heads,

"we may have to take action."

Oh, quite right too. So, yesterday afternoon?

Just a taster, Mr Rumpole,

to show the public we won't be pushed around.

- Of course, there was a meeting. - A union meeting.

A meeting of judges, Mr Rumpole.

Some of the senior men were there, including ourselves.

Oh, yes, the brothers. You ever thought of that, Wilfred?

Judges and trade unionists call themselves brothers.

Doesn't mean they like each other.

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

It must be a heave for you on some mornings.

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

Say again?

We're determined to pot you this time. I thought we should warn you.

Oh, how very charming of you, Wilfred.

Very charming indeed.

(Men shouting)

(Rumpole) Stop!

- (Rumpole) I call upon Mr Bollard... - Ballard!

Makes no difference.

I still call upon him to admit that the dark-haired man on the picket line

is Mr Peter, known as Peanuts, Malloy.

I don't suppose your learned friend would know.

Let him ask the detective inspector. He will soon find out.

That would seem to be correct, My Lord.

Mr Elver, this dispute at your charabanc garage

was about your employing non-union, untrained drivers?

(EIver) That's what they said it was.

And my client took the view that if you employed these cowboys,

there might be an accident, someone might get killed.

Even the most mild-mannered man might withdraw labour in that situation.

- Take His Lordship. - Mr Rumpole?

Did you know that the powers that be have suggested

that solicitors might get jobs as judges, High Court judges,

appeal judges, lords of appeal?

Mr Rumpole, these questions are irrelevant.

And speaking of appeals,

is Your Lordship stopping my cross-examination?

No, I'm not stopping you. It's just that I fail to see...

If Your Lordship sits quietly, all will become clear.

You won't twist this court around your little finger.

My little finger? Perish the thought!

Well, Mr Elver, solicitors as judges. That is the suggestion.

- I didn't know. - Well, you know now.

That suggestion caused even a moderate man as His Lordship

to go on strike.

On strike, Mr Rumpole? What are you talking about?

Yesterday afternoon, My Lord. I remember not much being done.

- Was Your Lordship on strike? - I was not on strike.

Simply withdrawing labour.

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

- Yes, My Lord. You told us that. - Keep out of this, Bollard.

With brother judges from the Chancery and family division.

Ah, yes. The shop stewards. What was discussed, My Lord?

Mr Rumpole, are you cross-examining me?

Cross-examining Your Lordship? Heaven forefend!

I can understand that if the judges are in dispute with their employers,

then it is a delicate matter, better kept secret.

Well, I don't think it is any secret that certain... changes

have been proposed in the legal system.

- Cowboys on the bench, My Lord? - Well, no.

Not quite, but certainly people whose training may not fit them...

And if these changes are implemented,

are we to expect further industrial action down the Old Bailey?

Well, it is a possibility. I hope that wiser counsel will prevail.

Now, come along, Mr Rumpole. That's quite enough of that.

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

Is that a legal proposition or a subject for debate?

Returning to the question on trial, did your client commit manslaughter?

I was merely venturing to suggest that, when their jobs are threatened,

even the most reasonable men will withdraw their labour.

I'm sure His Lordship will agree.

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

I suppose so.

(Rumpole) You wanted to make it look as unreasonable, didn't you?

- Why would I do that? - Childishly simple, Mr Elver.

If there were more than six pickets, you could get an injunction.

If there was violence and intimidation,

you could get the union fined a lot of money,

and you could get rid of that thorn in your flesh, Mr Basher Baker,

and hire as much cheap cowboy labour as you wanted.

- But there was violence. - Of course, because you put it there!

Usher...

Would you give that to the witness?

You know the Malloy family, don't you?

- Not sure. - Oh, come on, Mr Elver.

You employ one of their relations, Gerry Jebb.

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

You hired the Malloy family, didn't you,

to swell the picket line and create as much violence as possible,

and when you'd arranged the performance,

you taped it from your office.

- Baker was in charge of the pickets. - Of the peaceful pickets, yes.

He did not know the new arrivals. He thought they were from other firms.

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

Are you suggesting that this witness planned the driver's death?

Oh, no, no, My Lord. No.

I'm sure Mr Elver was as surprised as anyone

when whoever threw that brick went too far,

possibly young Peanuts Malloy, but it was a blessed opportunity

to get the awkward Mr Baker into real trouble.

How much did it cost to get Jebb to give evidence?

My Lord, I object...

Or did you get it in a package deal for a free holiday in Marbella?

Look at that photograph. Isn't that one of your luxury charas in Spain?

- It seems to be. - Yes. Do you see Gerry Jebb there?

- Young Peanuts and the Malloys? - Yes.

- Was that holiday a present from you? - I don't think so.

Do you have evidence that the Malloys paid for the coach?

- Maybe not. - Why not?

Gerry Jepp had been with the firm a long time.

- I did him a favour. - And he did you one.

- None of this was put to Mr Jebb. - Your Lordship is right.

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

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

- A public duty, My Lord? - Yes, Mr Rumpole, public duty.

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

- I am much obliged to Your Lordship. - Court will rise.

# We'll keep the red flag flying here #

Did you say something, Mr Rumpole?

I said, "What an interesting case we're trying here," My Lord.

- Working hard, Guthrie? - Marigold?

- Or are you taking industrial action? - There you are.

Hard day in court, you know, and happened to rise a little early.

What was that about industrial action?

- I've been reading the paper. - Oh, yes, of course.

A bit about my case in it, is there?

An interesting discussion, but I'll tell you this, Marigold,

I'm going to pot that shop steward.

Rumpole won't twist me around his little finger.

- It seems he's already twisted you. - What? No. Let me see.

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

Should I be beside you, telling you to keep your mouth shut?

What am I supposed to have done? What am I supposed to have said?

"'Industrial action by judges is a possibility,'

"said Mr Justice Featherstone, 53,

"'if jobs on the bench are open to solicitors."'

- Did you say that, Guthrie, dear? - Well, something like it, I suppose.

Yes, something very like it.

"The judge agreed with Mr Rumpole, counsel for Baker,

"that he had been withdrawing his labour yesterday afternoon

"when he closed his court to attend a protest meeting of senior judges,

"whom he called shop stewards."

That's libel! Rumpole called them that.

It sounds an accurate description.

- There's a leading article on Page 5. - A leading article?

"Judges add to nation's misery."

Oh, Marigold, it's simply not fair.

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

"prison officers, drain clearance operatives..."

- Drain clearance operatives? - Charming company you keep, Guthrie.

"...have all put the public through a summer of discontent.

"Now, if you strangle a porter

"when you've waited days for a train at Waterloo,

"you won't be tried for it according to Mr Justice Featherstone,

"who also went on strike yesterday afternoon.

"Come off it, Your Lordships, drop the Spanish practices

"and offer a decent service."

- Marigold, it's the fault of Rumpole. - Of course it is.

Why can't you twist him round your finger?

- You're bigger than he is. - I shall deny it, in court.

Oh, do. Then everyone will believe it.

I had to read this paper at lunch in Harrods, at the Silver Grill.

- I was deeply humiliated. - Oh, Marigold, I'm so sorry.

- I've bought you a present. - Oh, have you, darling?

- I knew you'd understand. - Oh, yes.

I understand perfectly.

It's your flat 'at, Guthrie.

Now you can go down the club

and play darts over a pint with the charge hands.

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

Her husband has his drawbacks, but he's not a shop steward.

(Door slams)

Oh, brother...

- This is how I like you. - You do like me a little, Elizabeth?

- When you're like this... - Like what?

- Your old English barrister. - Old?

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

Old-fashioned, Claude, that's what I meant.

Oh, I see. You like that, do you?

I should have thought you wouldn't.

It's the old-fashioned elegance I admire,

the English gent, the bow tie and all that.

It's rather sweet.

- It's an old Wykeamist bow tie. - Is it really?

I wouldn't wear it in the daytime, but it goes well with a great evening out.

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

you know, the sort that takes snuff.

- Snuff? - Yes.

You think I should take snuff?

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

Oh... Do you really?

Snuff, eh? Well, I suppose I might give it a sniff.

Out of a little silver box. I'd find that irresistible.

Oh, and stop trying to be a whizz kid,

talking about sliming down and productivity targets.

It sounds like some naff manager in a suit, horribly un-sexy.

Elizabeth, is that why you went off me?

And consumer choice? Consumer choice is absolutely yuck!

You know what I love about you?

Love? Please, Elizabeth, tell me.

You being so square and vague,

and beautifully un-businesslike, and sort of... dusty.

- Dusty? - In the nicest possible way.

Dreamy, with all sorts of ideas.

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

I believe in them passionately, Elizabeth.

Radical ones too, of course.

Why not say so at the next chambers meeting?

If you're not in awe of Ballard.

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

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

- Not now, Claude. - When?

Maybe after the next chambers meeting.

My Lord, I gave the court an undertaking

that the witness Gerald Jebb would return today.

He was warned that he must be available,

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

Surprise, surprise.

Vanished, Mr Ballard?

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

Try Marbella.

My Lord, the flight of this witness,

for it can only be described as a flight,

must cast considerable doubt on his evidence.

If it can be called evidence.

Our enquiries have also disclosed

that the defendant was in fact laying bricks in his garden,

which could account for the brick dust on his clothing.

In view of this, I therefore feel

it would not be right for the prosecution to persist...

...with these charges.

Mr Rumpole?

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

It is a wise decision, and, no doubt,

Your Lordship has other matters to attend to.

Yes, Mr Rumpole, I have an important meeting,

with the Lord Chancellor.

(Knock on door)

Ahem... Lord Chancellor.

Ah, come along in, my dear old fellow.

Sit you down.

- Drink? - Oh, thank you.

All this business about striking...

That's why I wanted to see you, Guthrie.

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

We fined the drain operatives quarter of a million for not taking a ballot.

Do you have that sort of money?

Er... no. No, no, no. Of course not.

I think the judges are agreed, Lord Chancellor,

that should it come to a ballot, they might well take action.

Oh, dear. Oh, my ears and whiskers. The cabinet won't like that.

The idea of judges on a picket line with an election coming.

I don't think the cabinet will be attracted by that.

- Got a cloth cap, have you? - Yes, as a matter of fact.

Oh. Well, a little something to eat?

Beer and sandwiches?

Sometimes, the old-fashioned way is best.

Now, I don't wish to quarrel with you fellows,

and I don't know why solicitors want to be judges anyway.

I agree. They make more money sitting in their offices selling houses.

- Or whatever it is they do. - Exactly.

I don't know why anyone should want to be a judge,

unless their practice is a bit rocky.

- That your trouble, was it? - No, certainly not.

I felt a call. Public duty.

I suppose your wife likes it, but no more talk about going on strike, eh?

What do you say we leave the question of solicitors joining the judges

for the judges to decide?

- Super. - I'm thinking along those lines.

- Good to talk to you, Guthrie. - Thank you.

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

With all due respect, aren't we risking

throwing out the baby with the bath water?

We mustn't lose our freedom, our eccentricity.

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

Ever since the Middle Ages, we have been the great freelancers,

independent radicals, the champions of freedom,

against tyranny and oppression, wheresoe'er it may be.

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

Am I to understand I cannot count on your support

in getting chambers efficient?

No. You no longer have my support on this.

Does that mean no new coffee machine?

- Yes, I'm rather afraid it does. - Oh, good.

Let's stop trying to be whizz kids,

talking about slimming down and productivity targets.

It makes us sound like little middle managers in suits. Yuck!

(Sniffs)

(Sneezes)

I say, that's a terrible cold you've got, old man.

Roast beef!

Yorkshire pudding!

Peace has broken out.

Poor Marigold Featherstone. She was so upset when Guthrie went on strike.

Do you know what she bought him? A cloth cap.

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

in the public interest.

People like judges and generals and...

Decision-makers of all kinds.

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

Distinctly off.

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

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

Perish the thought.

And then, I thought,

"It's a long time since you had a nice Yorkshire pudding."

Oh, Hilda, thank you. Thank you very much.

Sit down. Don't let it get cold after all the trouble I went to.

Sit down, Rumpole.

She Who Must Be Obeyed.

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