John Mortimer - Rumpole On Trial
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This was Fred Timson, wearing a dark suit with a striped tie and looking more than ever like a senior member of the old Serious Crimes Squad. I found him a drink, put it into his hand and told him how glad I was he could find time for us.
'What a do, eh?' He looked round appreciatively. 'Judges and sparkling wine! Here's to your very good health, Mr Rumpole.' 'No, Fred,' I told him, 'I'm going to drink to yours.' Whereupon I banged a glass against the table, called for silence and proposed a toast. 'Listen, everybody. I want to introduce you to Fred Timson, head of a noted family of South London villains, minor thieves and receivers of stolen property. No violence in his record. That right, Fred?' 'Quite right, Mr Rumpole.' Fred confirmed the absence of violence and then I made public what had long been my secret thoughts on the relationship between the Timsons and the law. 'This should appeal to you, my lords, ladies and gentlemen. Fred lives his life on strict monetarist principles.
He doesn't believe in the closed shop; he thinks that shops should be open all night, preferably by jemmy. He believes firmly in the marketplace, because that's where you can dispose of articles that dropped off the back of a lorry. But without Fred and his like, we should all be out of work. There would be no judges, none of Her Majesty's Counsel, learned in the law, no coppers and no humble Old Bailey hacks. So charge your glasses, fill us up. Henry, and I would ask you to drink to Fred Timson and the criminals of England!' I raised my glass but the faces around me registered varying degrees of disapproval and concern. Ballard bleated, 'Rumpole!', Hilda gave out a censorious, 'Really, Rumpole!', Featherstone J. said, 'He's off again,' and Mr Justice Oliphant decided that if this wasn't unprofessional conduct he didn't know what was. Only Liz, flushed with her success in Court and a few quick glasses of the methods champenoise, raised a fist and called out, 'Up the workers!' 'Oh, really!' Graves turned wearily to our Head of Chambers. 'Will Rumpole never learn?' 'I'm afraid never,' Ballard told him.
I was back at work again and life would continue much as ever at 3 Equity Court.
The End