Rumpole is on good form in the season opener, with an impressive guest cast.
He is present with his wife at an upmarket French restaurant in the West End, when he not only finds Erskine-Brown dining with a pretty instructing solicitor and trying to hide in a manner which suggests guilty-as-charged and yet another attempt to get off with a lady while his wife is away working- but a mouse is served at the table!
The Court proceedings arising from said mouse are the 'A plot'. Erskine-Brown philandering again is the fairly slight 'B-plot'.
Rumpole's presence at 'the scene of the crime' doesn't really have too much effect on the Court proceedings, but he is there with his wife and yet another of her cousins from far away, a rather effete Canadian barrister called Everard Wystan from SaskaTOON, as he pronounces it. (Played by James Maxwell, who 20 years before was the star turn as Henry VII in Shadow of the Tower, one of the few BBC Tudor multipart historical dramas of the early 70s to fail to make an impression.)
Everard has been doing nicely for himself in Saskatchewan as a corporate barrister and thus financially fortified, the thin Canadian is in the UK to fortify himself nutritionally in a foray through Britain's epicurean places of interest.
Rumpole wants mash spud and steak and kidney pud and the restaurateur Jean-Pierre O'Higgins, played by the marvellous TP McKenna (as forceful an actor as Leo McKern and a great combination) - isn't having it. He specialises in small portions of somewhat arcane foods artfully presented on the plate, which doesn't appeal to Rumpole. O'Higgins rudely suggests Rumpole decamp and go to the 'greasy spoon' up the road, but before any set-to can take place the musine interlude occurs at Erskine-Brown's table, rather seizing O'Higgins attention.
Back home, Hilda castigates Rumpole for always being 'a character' - implying his behaviour is that of a primadonna- then declares her intention to accompany Everard on his foodathon.
At the moment Hilda seems to be flouncing out on Rumpole virtually every other week and if it's not that she's chronically insecure about other women. Rumpole's household seems a pretty strained institution, though of course plotlines have to be manufactured somehow.
The presence of vermin at table is usually a strict liability offence and shortly O'Higgins is beating a path to Rumpole's door and begging him to take on his case.
Rumpole tells O'Higgins what he thinks of him, his establishment and his cuisine but nevertheless accepts the task, electing for a jury trial, presumably on the basis that a jury does possess the power to acquit. O'Higgins is also getting divorced, but another barrister has this plum.
After interviewing everyone and being conducted around the premises - where O'Higgins demonstrates his contempt even for his customers by calling opening time 'feeding time for the animals' - Rumpole tries to form a picture of what might be happening.
One of the staff (Gaston LeBlanc) is played by John Bluthal, a comedic gem best known for Never Mind the Quality (20 years previous) and Vicar of Dibly (a little later). Sadly, Bluthal is greatly underutlilised here and hardly gets a decent line. I don't know whey they went to the trouble and cost of casting him..
FIG Newton, Rumpole's usual private eye is set to his usual task of taking notes in the pouring rain while sniffling, observing LeBlanc carrying out a second job as a childrens' entertainer at a party.
In Court, things look grim with Judge Graves presiding and insisting to the jury that this is a strict liability offence- ie, 'you must find guilty'.
Once again we see two Equity Court members battling it out in Court for prosecution and defence., I would expect this is pretty rare in real life, though Mortimer wouldn't have written it so if it were impossible. I would suggest that economics has its say: much cheaper to give a few extra lines to existing cast than introduce new cast.
Rumpole eventually tumbles to the fact that there are romantic passions 'blazing'. LeBlanc and another staff member are at daggers drawn over the mousy Mary, an insignificantly quiet female member of staff. She in turn has a crush on O'Higgins and doesn't want his wife to profit from the restaurant in divorce proceedings.
Quite how Mary might persuade LeBlanc to destroy his main source of income when he is already doing a double job to make ends meet, even allowing for passion, takes some understanding, but he has used his magician experience to introduce the mouse.
Erskine Brown has to give evidence in Court and Rumpole explains (to Erskine Brown as well as the Court) that he was discussing a new case for his wife Phillida, which Rumpole has taken the trouble to check out. That gets Erskine Brown off of the hook with his wife.
To top it off, Rumpole persuades Mary to come clean in Court, enabling Rumpole to persuade the jury to acquit despite Grave's best efforts to 'pot' the chef.
And at the end, Hilda is back again, tired of Everard and pleased that her husband is a character after all.
O'Higgins (who sounds French but drops his faux French accent in the inner sanctum of his restaurant) now treats Rumpole and Hilda to a meal on the house.
We see Rumpole get his steak and kidney pud at last, that he has striven so long and heard to get from the top chef that swore never to make one.
We see Rumpole take a forkful of the steaming pud, lift it to his watering mouth- and screw up his face in disappointment. The great Jean-Pierre O'Higgins cannot make a good steak & kidney pud!
He is present with his wife at an upmarket French restaurant in the West End, when he not only finds Erskine-Brown dining with a pretty instructing solicitor and trying to hide in a manner which suggests guilty-as-charged and yet another attempt to get off with a lady while his wife is away working- but a mouse is served at the table!
The Court proceedings arising from said mouse are the 'A plot'. Erskine-Brown philandering again is the fairly slight 'B-plot'.
Rumpole's presence at 'the scene of the crime' doesn't really have too much effect on the Court proceedings, but he is there with his wife and yet another of her cousins from far away, a rather effete Canadian barrister called Everard Wystan from SaskaTOON, as he pronounces it. (Played by James Maxwell, who 20 years before was the star turn as Henry VII in Shadow of the Tower, one of the few BBC Tudor multipart historical dramas of the early 70s to fail to make an impression.)
Everard has been doing nicely for himself in Saskatchewan as a corporate barrister and thus financially fortified, the thin Canadian is in the UK to fortify himself nutritionally in a foray through Britain's epicurean places of interest.
Rumpole wants mash spud and steak and kidney pud and the restaurateur Jean-Pierre O'Higgins, played by the marvellous TP McKenna (as forceful an actor as Leo McKern and a great combination) - isn't having it. He specialises in small portions of somewhat arcane foods artfully presented on the plate, which doesn't appeal to Rumpole. O'Higgins rudely suggests Rumpole decamp and go to the 'greasy spoon' up the road, but before any set-to can take place the musine interlude occurs at Erskine-Brown's table, rather seizing O'Higgins attention.
Back home, Hilda castigates Rumpole for always being 'a character' - implying his behaviour is that of a primadonna- then declares her intention to accompany Everard on his foodathon.
At the moment Hilda seems to be flouncing out on Rumpole virtually every other week and if it's not that she's chronically insecure about other women. Rumpole's household seems a pretty strained institution, though of course plotlines have to be manufactured somehow.
The presence of vermin at table is usually a strict liability offence and shortly O'Higgins is beating a path to Rumpole's door and begging him to take on his case.
Rumpole tells O'Higgins what he thinks of him, his establishment and his cuisine but nevertheless accepts the task, electing for a jury trial, presumably on the basis that a jury does possess the power to acquit. O'Higgins is also getting divorced, but another barrister has this plum.
After interviewing everyone and being conducted around the premises - where O'Higgins demonstrates his contempt even for his customers by calling opening time 'feeding time for the animals' - Rumpole tries to form a picture of what might be happening.
One of the staff (Gaston LeBlanc) is played by John Bluthal, a comedic gem best known for Never Mind the Quality (20 years previous) and Vicar of Dibly (a little later). Sadly, Bluthal is greatly underutlilised here and hardly gets a decent line. I don't know whey they went to the trouble and cost of casting him..
FIG Newton, Rumpole's usual private eye is set to his usual task of taking notes in the pouring rain while sniffling, observing LeBlanc carrying out a second job as a childrens' entertainer at a party.
In Court, things look grim with Judge Graves presiding and insisting to the jury that this is a strict liability offence- ie, 'you must find guilty'.
Once again we see two Equity Court members battling it out in Court for prosecution and defence., I would expect this is pretty rare in real life, though Mortimer wouldn't have written it so if it were impossible. I would suggest that economics has its say: much cheaper to give a few extra lines to existing cast than introduce new cast.
Rumpole eventually tumbles to the fact that there are romantic passions 'blazing'. LeBlanc and another staff member are at daggers drawn over the mousy Mary, an insignificantly quiet female member of staff. She in turn has a crush on O'Higgins and doesn't want his wife to profit from the restaurant in divorce proceedings.
Quite how Mary might persuade LeBlanc to destroy his main source of income when he is already doing a double job to make ends meet, even allowing for passion, takes some understanding, but he has used his magician experience to introduce the mouse.
Erskine Brown has to give evidence in Court and Rumpole explains (to Erskine Brown as well as the Court) that he was discussing a new case for his wife Phillida, which Rumpole has taken the trouble to check out. That gets Erskine Brown off of the hook with his wife.
To top it off, Rumpole persuades Mary to come clean in Court, enabling Rumpole to persuade the jury to acquit despite Grave's best efforts to 'pot' the chef.
And at the end, Hilda is back again, tired of Everard and pleased that her husband is a character after all.
O'Higgins (who sounds French but drops his faux French accent in the inner sanctum of his restaurant) now treats Rumpole and Hilda to a meal on the house.
We see Rumpole get his steak and kidney pud at last, that he has striven so long and heard to get from the top chef that swore never to make one.
We see Rumpole take a forkful of the steaming pud, lift it to his watering mouth- and screw up his face in disappointment. The great Jean-Pierre O'Higgins cannot make a good steak & kidney pud!
