Free The Anti-Social Behaviour of Horace Rumpole by John Mortimer Page B

nowhere do I find that eating at your desk is a criminal activity.
    â€˜I keep a bottle or two of Pommeroy’s Very Ordinary claret in my filing cabinet drawer. This is not Pichon-Longueville perhaps, but drinking it if you have the courage and the stamina is surely not a criminal offence.
    â€˜We live in an unhappy period when the government wants to use its legislative powers to tell us how to lead our lives. It wants to tell us what to eat and drink, what to smoke and how we cross the road. Children are not allowed to grow fat and if they do they are snatched from their families and put into a home. If you smoke cigarettes, you won’t be treated by the doctor.
    â€˜There are plans afoot to turn us into a nation of vegans who drink carrot juice and go on hiking tours to the Lake District. This case is an object lesson in this form of tyranny. It’s geared to send a man to prison for eating a slice of pie.
    â€˜In the great days of our history, magistrates such as you, sir, stood up against a tyrannical king whotried to enforce taxes not approved by Parliament.
    â€˜Today you’re being asked to enforce laws against activities which have never been made crimes by our Parliament.
    â€˜You have your chance today, sir, to reject these illegal and inappropriate proceedings. You can stand up for justice. You have a chance today, sir, to become the Pym or Hampden of the City Magistrates’ Court. You may be criticized by the thinking bureaucrats of Westminster, but you’ll be acclaimed by all those who cherish our ancient freedoms, our constitution and the proper rule of law.’
    I then sat down and saw the lonely figure on the bench look, I thought a little desperately, at the clock, from which he seemed to get some encouragement. ‘I’m looking at the time,’ he told us unnecessarily. ‘I’ll give my decision at two o’clock.’
    â€˜It’s not too bad,’ I told Bonny Bernard, who had acted as my solicitor for the case. ‘I always wanted to know how it felt to appear in the dock, like my clients.’
    â€˜We must keep hoping for the best,’ Bonny Bernard said without any particular conviction. ‘We must always go on hoping.’
    â€˜I don’t think “Sir” wants to be a John Hampden of the City. When I go down I’ll get plenty of time for reading. I could read Milton. I’ve never really got on with him. Not many jokes in
Paradise Lost
, are there? Not too many laughs. Anyway, it’ll be interesting to find out what life’s like for your clients after you’ve lost their cases.’
    But when we were called back to court I wasn’t to be given the great opportunity of laughing away with Milton. I saw that Soapy Sam Ballard was in court, sitting beside the lady prosecutor, and as soon as ‘Sir’ was back in his seat she rose to say that my Head of Chambers, none other than the eminent Samuel Ballard, QC, had decided not to go on further with this case. He was anxious that any custodial sentence might prevent Mr Rumpole from practising, at least for a while, and he didn’t think it was in the interests of his chambers, or the Bar in general, to proceed with a judgement against Rumpole.
    Thus Rumpole was dismissed, with few words given.
    What happened when we got back to court had been quite unexpected and so the shades of the prison-house vanished as ‘Sir’ reluctantly agreed.
    *
    â€˜It must have been my final speech that did it,’ I told Hilda when I got home that afternoon. ‘That must have made them come to their senses.’
    â€˜It wasn’t your final speech at all, Rumpole. It was all down to Leonard.’
    â€˜Leonard Bullingham?’
    â€˜Of course. He knows I want you to get your silk so I can pick up some of your future briefs. So he was going to ask your Head of Chambers not to go on with the case.’
    â€˜Did he?’
    â€˜He was away on circuit.