‘All silent and all damned.’ Rumpole of the Bailey s6e3: Rumpole and the Right to Silence, Rumpole quotes Wordworth to professor client
Persuade Uncle Tom to commit perjury? ibid. Rumpole to Erskine
Hilda: We need a second honeymoon.
Rumpole: The first one was bad enough. Rumpole of the Bailey s6e4: Rumpole at Sea
It’s just the threat of that awful phoney friendliness I can’t stand. It’s that dreadful – affability. ibid. Rumpole to Hilda
Men are all the same. Perhaps not you, Rumpole. Rumpole of the Bailey s6e5: Rumpole and the Quacks, Mrs Erskine-Brown
I never prosecute. Rumpole of the Bailey s6e6: Rumpole for the Prosecution, Rumpole
We have received threatening calls from militant Methodists. ibid. Rumpole to Mrs Ballard
Please don’t do what you think is right again, Rumpole. It does seem to have the most disastrous results. ibid.
Tell me, Ms Lizz, do you believe in the devil? Rumpole of the Bailey s7e1: Rumpole and the Children of the Devil, Rumpole
Silence is golden, old fellow. Particularly when passing possibly dubious life sentences. Rumpole of the Bailey s7e2: Rumpole and the Miscarriage of Justice, Appeal Court judge to Guthrie
And if that man had been strung up, he would never have come popping up in the court of appeal and causing us all this trouble and anxiety. ibid. Wilfred
That’s the in thing now, is it? Gerontophilia. ibid. Rumpole to Guthrie
There is no evidence more unreliable than a confession. ibid. Rumpole
I thought you were absolutely brilliant in court. You were so brave and, well, commanding. Rumpole of the Bailey s7e3: Rumpole and the Eternal Triangle, admirer to Rumpole
Dot’s nose, not to put too fine a point on it, is politically correct. Rumpole of the Bailey s7e4: Rumpole and the Reform of Joby Jonson, Ms Probert
Well why ask for the expert advice of Rumpole of the Bailey just because some old bag woman slips and drowns herself in the lake? Rumpole of the Bailey s7e5: Rumpole and the Family Pride, Rumpole to His Lordship
The trouble with going to the Opera is you keep tripping over all these people tucking up for the night. I suppose they really must enjoy it. ibid. Her Ladyship
Is Rumpole flat as a pancake too? Rumpole of the Bailey s7e6: Rumpole on Trial, Marigold to Hilda over tea at Harrod’s
Are we to have a little premature adjudication? ibid. Rumpole in court
I think I’m just about finished with this game. ibid. Rumpole to Hilda
They are going to kick me out. ibid.
Repentance, Rumpole, it’s the only way. ibid. Ballard
We can’t hide it, can we, Dot? ibid. Henry the clerk
To my certain knowledge, Uncle Tom hasn’t appeared in court for fifteen years, when he managed to lose an undefended divorce case, but, as he lives with a widowed sister, a lady of such reputed ferocity that she makes She Who Must Be Obeyed sound like Mrs Tiggywinkle, he spends most of his time in chambers. He looks remarkably well for seventy-eight. John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Younger Generation
It’s part of the life of an Old Bailey hack to spend a good deal of his time down in the cells, in the basement area, where they keep the old door of Newgate kicked and scarred, through which generations of villains were sent to treadmill, the gallows or the whip. You pass this venerable door and ring a bell, you’re let in and you name’s taken by one of the warders who bring the prisoners from Brixton. There’s a perpetual smell of cooking and the warders snatching odd snacks of six inches of cheese butties and a gallon of tea. Lunch is being got ready, and the cells under the Bailey have a high reputation as one of the best cafés in London. ibid.
‘Manslaughter, eh? Do you want to discuss manslaughter, Rumpole?’
I appeared to give the matter some courteous consideration. ibid.
‘No, judge. I don’t believe I do.’ John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Showfolk
‘An extremely dim view. On this circuit we have a tradition of loyalty to our leaders.’
‘It’s a local custom?’ ibid.
There are many reasons why I could never become one of Her Majesty’s judges. I am unable to look at my customer in the dock without feeling, ‘There but for the grace of God goes Horace Rumpole.’ I should find it almost impossible to order any fellow citizen to be locked up in a Victorian slum with a couple of psychopaths and three chamber-pots, and I cannot imagine a worse way of passing your life than having to actually listen to the speeches of the learned friends. John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Tap End
There is another danger inherent in a judicial office: a judge, any judge, is always liable to say, in a moment of boredom or impatience, something downright silly. ibid.
Crime is about life, death and the liberty of the subject; civil law is entirely concerned with the most tedious of all topics, money. Criminal law requires an expert knowledge of bloodstains, policemen’s notebooks and the dark flow of human passion, as well as the argot currently in use round the Elephant and Castle. Civil law calls for a close study of such yawn-producing matters as bills of exchange, negotiable instruments and charter parties. John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Bubble Reputation
It’s odd, isn’t it? Kill a person or beat him over the head and remove his wallet, and all you’ll get is an Old Bailey judge and an Old Bailey hack. Cast a well-deserved slur on his moral character, ridicule his nose or belittle his bank balance and you will get a High Court judge and some of the smoothest silks in the business. ibid.
‘My life is devoted to helping the criminal classes.’ John Mortimer, Rumpole a la Carte
Brooding a little further on this business of evil, it occurs to me that the world is fairly equally divided between those who see it everywhere because they are always looking for it and those who hardly notice it at all. John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Children of the Devil
Childhood has, I regret to say, like much else, got worse since I was a boy. We had school bullies, we had headmasters who were apparently direct descendants of Captain Bligh of the Bounty, we had cold baths, inedible food and long hours in chapel on Sundays, but there was one compensation. No-one had invented social workers. ibid.
‘When I was a young lad, the first thing we learned at the Bar was to control our client.’ John Mortimer, Rumpole on Trial, judge to Rumpole
You must remember that we legal hacks are divided into Inns, known as Inns of Court. These Inns are ruled by the benchers, judges and senior barristers, who elect each other to the office rather in the manner of the council which ruled Venice during the Middle Ages. ibid.
‘The old Lord Chief would never hear argument from a man he suspected of wearing a backless waistcoat.’ ibid. Judge Oliphant
The Bar Council may be said to be the guardian of our morality, there to see we don’t indulge in serious crimes or conduct unbecoming a legal hack, such as assaulting the officer in charge of the case, dealing in dangerous substances round the corridors of the Old Bailey or speaking to our clients in our lunch hour. ibid.
It’s rare indeed that I am present at chambers meetings, held under the chairmanship of Soapy Sam Ballard and dealing often with such vital matters as the expenditure on instant coffee in the clerks’ room or the importance of leaving a signed bit of paper on the library shelves when borrowing a book. But these were the dog days in the cold, wet and bleak start of the year, the criminals of England seemed to have all gone off for a winter break to Marbella or the Seychelles, and I had wandered into Ballard’s room as an alternative to yet another struggle with the crossword puzzle. John Mortimer, Rumpole and the Penge Bungalow Murders
It has always been that knowing too much law is not only no help but also a considerable handicap to the courtroom advocate. ibid.
‘You won’t be surprised, I am sure, if I don’t ask any questions … If we start asking questions on these facts we will only irritate the judge and bore the jury.’ ibid. learned leader
‘You should have gone into commercial law, Rumpole.’ Hilda shook her head sadly. ‘Turned your talents to big companies suing each other. I could have made something of you if you’d been a commercial barrister.’ ibid. Hilda
In 2019 Britain was gripped by a social media scandal as two women went to war. Wagspiracy: Vardy v Rooney, BBC 2023
It’s Rebekah Vardy’s account. Rebekah Vardy denied having anything to do with it. The truth of what happened is known only to an inner circle of friends, agents and journalists. None of whom appeared in court. ibid.
July 2022: ‘This is about reputation; it is not money.’ ibid. TV outside court
‘It has its own nickname. It has its own podcast series.’ ibid.
‘This is a podcast about toxic friendships …’ ibid.
By 2010 the public’s interest in the WAGS had begun to overshadow the football their husbands were playing. ibid.
Rebekah Vardy has lost her libel case against Coleen Rooney. She is not a credible witness.’ ibid. BBC outside court