not! Youâll have a job getting him off, I reckon.â
âIf your friend Scottie asks for me, tell him Iâll do my best.â
Dennis was laughing at Bertieâs story but I couldnât see the joke. All I could think of was a journey across Europe, nailed up in a packing case. Human beings exported like so many jars of mango chutney.
Â
11
Briefs are, I have always thought, very like the number 11 bus. You wait an age to get one and then a whole platoon of them turn up at the same time. Not too long ago I had been facing unemployment, enforced retirement and the prospect of long days without wig or gown in the sole company of She Who Must Be Obeyed in Froxbury Mansions. Now I had not only young Peterâs ASBO and Graham Wetherbyâs murder but also, thanks again to the industrious Bonny Bernard,Scottie Thompsonâs importation of illegal female immigrants by way of the port of Dover.
I was brooding over the defence in the last-named case when there was a sharp rap on the door and there entered Claude Erskine-Brown. I heard the voice but didnât turn my head to it.
âIâve come to serve you, Rumpole,â was what he said.
âThatâs extremely kind of you, Erskine-Brown. Iâd like a large cup of black coffee, no milk or sugar, and a couple of Chambers shortbread biscuits.â
âI donât mean Iâve come to serve you, Rumpole. Rather Iâm here to serve
on
you.â
âPlease, Erskine-Brown. Iâm sure there was a laugh in there somewhere, but as you can see Iâm extremely busy. An important immigration case has come my way. It will probably hit the headlines. So if you can give me the coffee without delayâ¦â
âI am not serving you coffee, Rumpole. And I understand shortbread biscuits are no longer available. I am serving
this
on you now, and Iâd like you to sign on the form that youâve received it.â
For the first time I turned to look at the chap. He was holding out a piece of paper which seemed to quiver in his shaking hand. Erskine-Brown was, I thought, in a state of high excitement. I took thepaper from him and spread it out on my desk. âWhatâs this, Claude?â I tried to be civil. âAnother slice of criminal law the governmentâs produced which no one can understand?â
âRead it, Rumpole. I think youâll find it perfectly understandable.â
I glanced at the document. It seemed to bear my name and I read a heading: âApplication for an Anti-social Behaviour Orderâ. I thought it must have something to do with the case of young Peter Timson until I read the particulars of the conduct complained of. They came in a column headed âBehaviour of Horace Rumpoleâ, which I will quote in full for accuracy.
1. Bringing various articles of food into Chambers such as portions of cold steak and kidney pie, various cheeses, cooked sausages and chipped potatoes. On several occasions a shepherdâs pie would be imported from a public house and gradually consumed over a period of days. On several occasions uneaten portions of this pie were discovered left in a filing cabinet in the said Rumpoleâs room expressly provided for the storage of legal documents.
2. Bringing intoxicating drinks into the said Chambers such as bottles of wine and consuming them on the premises.
3. On several occasions singing in his room in the said Chambers, thereby causing embarrassment to the members and the clerical staff.
4. Smoking small cigars causing a health hazard in Chambers and further polluting the atmosphere and thereby increasing the risk of global warming.
âWho thought up this ridiculous document?â I asked Claude after I had read it through.
âWe have formed a sub-committee to deal with your behaviour, Rumpole.â
âOh, have you indeed? And is Soapy Sam in any way connected with this rubbish?â
âSamuel Ballard, QC, has given us his
Liz Wiseman, Greg McKeown