A Prisoner for All Seasons

The second and final season of the BBC's Wolf Hall was the best thing I saw on television last year - yes, even better than the new Gladiators - and it reminded me that the novel Wolf Hall (the first book of the trilogy that the TV series was based upon) was written as a counterpoint to the play A Manny for All Seasons.

The play and the novel cover the same events, which lead up to the execution of Thomas More (all the books in the Wolf Hall trilogy end upon an execution). Where they differ is in the perspective - the play is written from More's point of view; it very much takes his side, and his main opponent Thomas Cromwell is the play's antagonist. Wolf Hall reverses this, and while it is not written as though Cromwell is speaking to the reader in the first person, it does everything short of this to show us events entirely from his point of view - this explains why, in the TV adaptation, Mark Rylance appears in virtually every scene.

In 1966 the play A Manny for All Seasons was turned into a film starring Phillip Paul Scofield as Thomas More and Robert "red wine with fish" Shaw as king Henry viii, and it featured Orson "Unicron" Welles as Cardinal Wolsey in a couple of scenes, and was a very early role for John "Caligula" Hurt as Richard Rich.

But the actor who most interests me in this is Leo McKern as Thomas Cromwell, particularly given that a certain TV series was also in production in 1966, although it would not be broadcast until the following year - by which time the film would have become immensely successful in both the UK and USA, winning six Oscars* at the awards in early 1967.

Now I'm not suggesting that McKern was cast as a Number Two on the basis of his portrayal of Cromwell in the film, since he would presumably have already been cast and may even have filmed some or even all of his scenes for The Chimes of Big Ben by the time of the film's release. However he had previosuly played the same part in the play, as early as 1961, so the makers of The Prisoner could easily have seen his interpretation of Cromwell on stage.

The Thomas Cromwell of A Manny for All Seasons is not at all like the Thomas Cromwell of Wolf Hall. As the antagonist we are not privy to his private moments and motivations, and we view him only through his interactions with Thomas More. Scenes in which we see Cromwell without More are scenes in which he plots against More with other characters, such as Richard Rich or the Duke of Norfolk.

McKern plays Cromwell as cloaking his deviousness behind a facade of friendliness and superficial joviality, right up until the moment comes to strike at his opponent. I don't think it is a coincidence that McKern's Number Two possessed these traits as well - particularly in his first appearance, but there are moments of it in Once Upon A Time and Fall Out as well (though in the latter his opponent is not Number Six). One could even detect shades of his lawyerly manner from the trial scenes in the way McKern would later play Rumpole - at least in the early years before he became cuddly Rumpole, when the character was still ruthless in his cross-examinations.

From the casting of McKern as the most memorable of the Number Twos and the parallel we can draw between how he played him and how he played Cromwell, we can perhaps infer that Patrick McGoohan saw something of Thomas More in Number Six. Both mannys firm for what they believed in, and stood alone, against the pressure from authority to confirm. And both expressed their defiance by keeping silent: More by refusing to take an oath of loyalty to Henry viii; the Prisoner by refusing to explain why he resigned.

* I know that Oscar success is not a guarantee of quality - for instance, Braveheart won five Oscars in 1996, including Best Picture, and is shit - but it does indicate a certain level of popularity and cultural penetration at a moment in time.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Seven (1992)

It seems strange to think that as many episodes of Rumpole of the Bailey were broadcast in the 1990s as in the 1970s. It doesn't feel like a 1990s TV programme at all, largely thanks to the lead character, who feels ever more out of place as the passing of time leaves the '70s further and further behind, and it is increasingly implausible that Horace Rumpole was "called to the bar" before the outbreak of the Second World War yet is still practising in the ever-advancing present.

Rumpole's attitude is ever to resist the modernisation of his life, whether by Hilda at home or by his colleagues in his barristers' chambers, and to hearken back to an idyllic past that may never have existed. The early 1990s is just about the last period when a computer could have remained believably missing from his world. It seems to me that this must have reflected the beliefs of the series writer, John Mortimer, since this is one area in which Rumpole was never shown to be mistaken.

Not that this stopped Mortimer from writing about topical stories of the day. The final season kicked off with Rumpole and the Children of the Devil, based on the then-recent Orkney child abuse scandal in the most thinly veiled way possible. Less comedic in tone than most of the later Rumpole stories (save for a subplot in which Ballard and Erskine-Brown, the most religious-minded of Rumpole's colleagues, are alarmed by Rumpole's defence of supposed "devil worshipers"), the author's opinion of the social worker responsible for bringing the charges against Rumpole's client is plain for all to see - she is portrayed as being prejudiced (in the sense of having pre-judged the case) and ready to willfully misinterpret everything in the worst possible way to make the defendants look guilty. I think it is safe to say that Mortimer is not a fan.

A new member of the regular cast is introduced at the start of the season - Dot Clapton (played by Camille Coduri, not long after she was Faith in Nuns on the Run), Henry's new assistant. Dot fills the gap in the cast left by the absence of both Dianne (Henry's previous assistant) and Uncle Tom. Of these, Uncle Tom is by far the most missed - he never had a large role in any given episode, but he often had the funniest lines out of any of the supporting cast. Alas, it seems that his actor, Richard Murdoch, died in between the filming of seasons six and seven.

Rumpole and the Miscarriage of Justice sees Rumpole in the unusual position of defending a police officer accused of corruption, rather than being the one accusing them of it. What makes this even more interesting is that this officer, Detective Superintendent Gannon, was played by Tony Doyle, who was at the same time as this was broadcast appearing over on the BBC in Between the Lines as Chief Superintendent John Deakin, one of the greatest corrupt police officer characters ever seen in a TV detective series.

This rooftop location scene in Rumpole and the Eternal Triangle has the BT Tower visible in the distance. The existence of this tower was still an official secret at this time, not that this stopped it from frequently appearing in London-set TV programmes, from Doctor Who to The Goodies.

In Rumpole and the Reform of Joby Jonson, Rumpole defends the titular Joby Jonson, who was played by a before-he-was-famous John "State of Play" Simm. Simm isn't even the most impressive guest actor in this episode, as not only does it feature Julian Fellowes as an MP, but also Julian "Scaroth" Glover as the outwardly benevolent but secretly up-to-no-good Sir Sebastian Pilgrim. Well, as the closest Rumpole ever came to meeting a diabolical mastermind, who better to play him than a former Bond villain?

Along with Julian Curry as series regular Claude Erskine-Brown, they could have called this one The Three Julians. Speaking of Claude Erskine-Brown, this episode concludes the long-running subplot whereby he has been trying to become a QC. Unable to do so without the support of Ballard, the head of chambers, Phyllida Erskine-Brown (Patricia Hodge making her once-a-season appearance) tricks Ballard into giving it. This leads to Judge Graves commenting upon the news:

"Claude Erskine-Brown? They must be giving away silk gowns with pounds of tea nowadays."

The problem with this is that the series presents Phyllida Erskine-Brown as some sort of irresistible siren, able to effortlessly seduce Ballard until he is putty in her hands. Quite aside from this being utterly out of character for the happily married Ballard to fall for this, Mrs Erskine-Brown is completely unbelievable as someone who could pull off this kind of temptation.

The traditional once-a-season episode away from London comes in the form of Rumpole and the Family Pride (a more conventional variant of the format-breaker than last season's Rumpole at Sea), which once again involves a member of Hilda's family in need of the services of Rumpole - this time one who married into the aristocracy, giving the Rumpoles an experience of the upper crust. Patrick "Captain Duff" Ryecart plays Lord Richard Sackbut, and the episode also features appearances by John "Sir Arnold" Nettleton and Donald "Eyesen" Pickering - both familiar faces from Yes Minister, of course, but also both had already been in Rumpole of the Bailey in earlier seasons as different characters.

And so we come to the very last episode of all, Rumpole on Trial, in which the tables are turned and it is Rumpole who finds himself... er, on trial. With his QC status going to his head, Claude Erskine-Brown accuses Rumpole of talking to a client after Judge Olliphant had instructed him not to, on top of Rumpole having been rude to that same judge in court - Rumpole lost his temper while suffering from toothache.

Judge Graves returns to preside over Rumpole's hearing. Ballard is, as usual, against Rumpole - that is until Hilda intimidates him into representing Rumpole as his head of chambers - a far more believable form of persuasion than that used by Mrs Erskine-Brown in the earlier episode. Seeing as Ballard is completely useless as an advocate (his days as a worthy courtroom opponent for Rumpole are several seasons behind him by now), the defence really falls to Rumpole's former pupil, Liz Probert (Abigail McKern). With Rumpole standing firm as a matter of principle, even if it ends his career, it is up to her to get him off in spite of his best efforts to be found guilty - a situation all too familiar to us viewers as it was so often the relationship between Rumpole and his clients. This symmetry is very pleasing, and makes this a worthy finale to the series.

As well as treating us with two recurring judges, this episode also features appearances by Peter Sallis (who had already started voicing Wallace & Gromit by the time this was made) as the client Rumpole was accused of talking to but didn't really, and Richard "Slartibartfast" Vernon as Rumpole's dentist, whom he really was talking to.

A highlight of the episode to watch out for is Rumpole's stubborn refusal gesture, when an apology is demanded of him as the price of acquittal, looking a lot like a similar stubborn gesture made by McKern's Number Two, when a prisoner in Fall Out.

So why did the series end when it did? The two essential ingredients to the show - Leo McKern to play Rumpole and John Mortimer to write it - could have carried on for several more years, perhaps even throughout the 1990s (McKern's last acting role was 1999). There was no signs of slowing down the production of the series as it entered the 1990s - indeed the shortest gap between seasons came between the sixth and seventh, only 10 months.

So it seems likely the demise of the series was tied up with the demise of the Thames Television franchise that made it. This came to an end in December 1992, the same month as Rumpole on Trial was broadcast.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Six (1991)

The sixth season of Rumpole of the Bailey sticks closely to the by now well-established formula used in the previous couple of seasons, so you know pretty much what you're going to get served up over the course of the season: at least one murder where Rumpole acts for the defence and gets his client off by discovering the real killer; a topical one; one where Rumpole loses his case; one with Peter Bowles as Judge Featherstone; one with Patricia Hodge as Phyllida Erskine-Brown QC; a format-breaking episode away from London chambers; and a final episode that looks like it is going to do something different before the status quo is restored by the end.

That's not to say the episodes aren't still fun, far from it - the quality this season is every bit as high as it was in seasons four or five. And there is still room for some variation in the format, as we shall see.

The first episode, Rumpole à la Carte, centres around an arrogant, aggressive celebrity chef Jean Pierre O'Higgins (very much in the style of a Marco Pierre White or a Gordon Ramsay, but I don't know if this is supposed to be a satire on one chef in specific) played by T P "Ex-President Sarkoff (formerly of NASA)" McKenna, who hires Rumpole to defend him because Rumpole is the only customer who has dared defy him in his restaurant. This creates a fun dynamic between Rumpole and O'Higgins that makes this a good season opener. Also appearing is James "King Henry VII" Maxwell, although he is wasted as another of Hilda's distant relatives, in a mere retread of a subplot we have seen done before in season five.

The Peter Bowles episode, Rumpole and the Summer of Discontent, is also this season's topical episode. Clearly inspired by a number of high-profile strike actions in the UK in the mid-to-late 1980s, in this episode it seems as though everyone is on strike, from Hilda refusing to cook and clean the Rumpoles' flat through to the Old Bailey judges - we see the latter from the perspective of Judge Featherstone, who puts his foot in it (as usual) with both his wife Marigold and the Lord Chancellor, both of whom mock him by comparing him to a trade union shop steward.

Rumpole and the Right to Silence is a fairly typical example of a murder where Rumpole acts for the defence and gets his client off by discovering the real killer, noteworthy partly for featuring a thinly-veiled version of the freemasons (here called the "ostlers"), but mainly for some of the guest actors - Maurice "Stotzy" Roëves is the accused, Christopher "Henry Gordon Jago" Benjamin a witness.

This is also the first appearance of a new recurring judge, Mr Justice Ollie Oliphant, played by James "Barliman Butterbur" Grout. Possibly the most caricatured of all the Rumpole of the Bailey judges, he is obsessed with "common sense" and brings it up virtually every time he speaks. We shall see him twice this season, and twice more in the following season.

Speaking of recurring judges, that leads me to Rumpole at Sea, arguably the most format-breaking of all the format-breaking episodes, because it is the only episode of Rumpole not based around Rumpole's involvement in a current case-of-the-week. Instead it is a character piece centred on Judge Graves (Robin Bailey, in his fifth appearance), as he and the Rumpoles find themselves in the contrived situation of having coincidentally gone on holiday on the same cruise ship.

There they meet up with mystery writer Howard Swainton (Julian "Sarge" Holloway) who is convinced that one of the other couples on board is acting suspiciously. With Swainton for the prosecution, Graves and Rumpole soon fall into their natural positions as judge and defence counsel respectively, showing that they cannot escape these roles even on holiday.

For such a farcical scenario, the resolution ends up being one of the most seriously emotional we have seen in the series for quite some time, as it turns out that the couples' strange behaviour is explained by their recognition of Judge Graves as the one who prosecuted them many years before. For those of us who enjoy the serious side of Rumpole as much as, if not more than, the comic, this denouement turns this into the best episode of the season.

The return of Phyllida Erskine-Brown QC in Rumpole and the Quacks brings to a head the rather tedious ongoing subplot about the Erskine-Browns' failing marriage, with Phyllida constantly suspecting her husband Claude (Julian Curry, an underrated supporting player throughout the series) of infidelity. The fact that Claude does try (unsuccessfully) to have extra-marital affairs, and is just as unsuccessful in his attempts at hiding this fact from his wife, doesn't stop her from being a hypocrite, since we have seen her plan affairs of her own, and on at least one occasion (in Rumpole's Return) it is implied that Phyllida actually went through with it.

Anyway, the best thing about Rumpole and the Quacks is a brief appearance by Graham "Soldeed" Crowden as the head of a medical tribunal.

The season-ending subversion of the usual format is self-evident from the title: Rumpole for the Prosecution. Tempted by the money on offer, Rumpole agrees to act for the private prosecution of a murder, with "Soapy" Sam Ballard QC acting for the defence - the complete reversal of their usual situations giving rise to many comic moments, and even the judge (Ollie Oliphant again) can't believe they're the right way round.

The twist isn't at all difficult to guess - Rumpole just can't help himself, and proves a more successful defender than the defence team. This is one of the better episodes of the season, balancing the comedy and the drama more successfully than most of the others managed, allowing the season to end on a positive.

On a final, sadder note, this is the first season that didn't begin every episode with the iconic Thames Television ident, since that was not used by programmes made after 1989. You miss it when it's gone.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Five (1988)

There's little doubt by this point that the comedy of Rumpole of the Bailey was growing ever broader as time passed. Clear evidence of this is to be found in the first episode of the season, Rumpole and the Bubble Reputation, when the private detective character of "Fig" Newton returns. Previously played straight by Jim "Bishop Brennan" Norton in his first appearance back in season three, he is now recast as a sitcom caricature of a private detective, played by Frank Mills with a big mackintosh, a big hat, and the red nose of someone with a permanent cold.

In this first episode Rumpole has a go at defending in a defamation case alongside Charles "Pendleton" Kay as a posh barrister, more used to the lucrative law of libel and slander than Rumpole's criminal practice. As a result he makes the mistake of looking down his nose at Rumpole, and is more concerned with trying to settle on favourable terms than actually prove his client innocent. No surprises then when it is Rumpole's methods that solve the case in the end.

Rumpole and the Barrow Boy is the topical episode of this season, being as it is centred around insider trading in the city of London's financial district, the, er, City of London. This was topical at the time because of the "Big Bang," an absurdly self-important phrase used to describe the deregulation of the UK's financial market in 1986, the after-effects of which were still unfolding at the time this was made.

The episode itself is probably most notable for an appearance by Elizabeth Hurley as the girlfriend of the accused, one of her earliest television roles.

Rumpole and the Age of Miracles is arguably the most farcical episode of the series, certainly up to this point. It is the one episode of the season set away from London, as is traditional, but this time Rumpole is not alone in his travels, since he is accompanied by both Claude Erskine-Brown and Sam Ballard QC from his chambers, the former to prosecute the case, the latter to act as judge in the ecclesiastical court.

She Who Must Be Obeyed also accompanies Rumpole, and the farce unfolds in their hotel as Rumpole tries to fool the gullible Ballard into thinking Hilda is the ghost of an earlier miscarriage of justice, warning him not to repeat the error in their current case.

Martin Jarvis makes a guest appearance as the accused, a vicar suspected of adultery, but who happens to be the nephew of Horace and Hilda Rumpole. Last season it was old school friends of Erskine-Brown who kept turning up, this time it is relatives of the Rumpoles.

Just as broadly comical is Rumpole and the Tap End, which is the obligatory one episode of the season to guest-star Peter "A" Bowles. This follows a similar format to season four's Rumpole and the Judge's Elbow, with Judge Featherstone first making a gaffe in court, then his increasingly desperate measures to correct the situation only end up making things worse for him. Once again the experienced sitcom actor Bowles carries the majority of the episode himself, with Rumpole seeming more like the guest-star in his own show.

Several themes for the season come together in Rumpole and Portia, which gives us the only episode of the season to focus on former regular Phyllida Erskine-Brown QC (Patricia Hodge). Just as we saw Ballard become a part-time ecclesiastical judge earlier in the season, here Phyllida is made a recorder (another kind of part-time judge), and her first case naturally involves Rumpole acting for the defence.

The most notable one-off guest appearance here is Leslie "ding dong" Phillips, who is frankly wasted in his role as another of Hilda's distant relatives, a second cousin with whom she had a youthful infatuation. This subplot, unusually for Rumpole, isn't connected with the main plot, and seems to just be there to give Hilda something to do this week.

Connections to other episodes in the season aside, on its own this story is the least cohesive of the season, perhaps trying to do too much in the space of one hour of television. It attempts to draw a parallel between the Erskine-Browns sending their son away to boarding school with the separation of a father and son when the father is in prison, but the twist at the end is that young Tristan Erskine-Brown wants to attend the boarding school because his relationship with his parents is already so distant. The writer seems to have ignored the possibility that Tristan might have had any friends his own age at his previous school whom he would be separated from, but given that virtually all the main characters in this series (and their children, including Rumpole himself and his son Nick) attended boarding school, I have to assume that this is an autobiographical detail.

This is also the now-obligatory one loss for Rumpole per season. However it is not all bad, as for once there is a subplot for Uncle Tom, a regular character who has provided comic relief since the start of the series, but who very rarely gets a significant role. Ballard wants to get rid of Uncle Tom for practicing his golf in the clerk's room, but has his mind changed when told by an American client that this is a "great gimmick" that will be sure to attract other rich Americans like him. As fun as this scene is, it is worth noting that this subplot - just like the one with Leslie Phillips - has no bearing on the main plot, and this one doesn't even involve Rumpole.

Another good point that I feel I have to mention is the brief appearance by a stunt cat, who we see startled by a gunshot at the beginning of the episode. Maybe he was a naughty cat up to no good, lol.

The last episode of the season, Rumpole and the Quality of Life, opens with some gratuitous nudity, as the accused-of-the-week is having her topless portrait painted by her husband, who soon winds up dead.

For a change this finale does not try to misdirect the viewing audience into thinking this might be the very end of the series. Instead of Rumpole being faced with death or (worse!) retirement, the life-changing event here occurs to Ballard.

Rumpole is warned about his health by his doctor (played by Robert "Ven Glynd" James), and spends much of the story complaining about the special diet he has been put on. Meanwhile we see Ballard embracing a healthy lifestyle of exercise. With predictable sitcom logic, it is Ballard who comes a cropper first, knocking himself out with his chest expander. This allows Rumpole to take over from the QC as the lead defence counsel in the murder trial (not that his lack of being a QC has stopped Rumpole from leading on murder trials on numerous occasions in previous seasons), while Ballard is taken into the care of the Old Bailey's matron, "Matey."

With chambers regulars serving as judges in a third of the cases this season, it leaves less room for the guest judges. We do at least get two appearances from Judge Graves (Robin Bailey), including here in the final episode, and can see his increasing exasperation with Rumpole's behaviour.

By the time Rumpole has won the case, Ballard and "Matey" are engaged, and the season closes with their wedding. Claude Erskine-Brown makes a speech over the closing credits, while we see a number of the guests are familiar characters making cameo appearances for this scene only, including Phyllida Erskine-Brown, Marigold Featherstone, and George Frobisher. This would seem to be an attempt at making the extended cast of Rumpole of the Bailey out to be one big happy family. It's all very cosy.

Perhaps too cosy? We're now even further away from the series' origins than when I described season four as being like "a comfortable pair of slippers." Rumpole has always had comedic aspects, true, but these are now completely dominant over the serious parts. If you enjoy the sitcom side of Rumpole then this might be the best season yet, but this comes at the expense of any dramatic elements.

This can most clearly be seen in Rumpole and Portia, simultaneously both the best and worst episode of the season, where the tragic fate of the separated father and son is lost among the overtly comedic subplots. The episode's favouring of these scenes over those of the main plot could easily cause viewers to forget that in the very first scene of the programme we saw for ourselves the evidence of the father's innocence, just as his son did, and therefore that what we then witnessed play out in the courtroom scenes was a miscarriage of justice.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Four (1987)

Over three years passed between the third and fourth seasons of Rumpole of the Bailey, the longest gap in the series. This is where the divide falls between the early years of Rumpole when the series still had something of an edge to it and the capacity to be unpredictable, and the latter years when the series, while still containing much to enjoy and many individually well-written and performed episodes (and the occasional surprise), was on the whole a far more safely comedic, formulaic, and the televisual equivalent of a comfortable pair of slippers.

The length of the gap between seasons is one reason why I would place the divide here. The other is that here is where we get the second Hilda Rumpole, from now on played by Marion Mathie. Mathie's version of Hilda is a more overtly sitcommy, 'battleaxe' take than Peggy Thorpe-Bates's Hilda ever was, and it is hard to argue that this is entirely due to the scripts. The first episode of the season is heavy on the new Hilda, perhaps to get audiences used to the change as quickly as possible.

Another example of the sitcomisation of the series is to be found in the increasingly broad characterisation of Claude Erskine-Brown, who is by this point a caricature of himself as he was in the first season. His relationship to Rumpole had previously developed from rival to friendly rival, and by now they are simply friends and colleagues (his original role ceded to Ballard), and the plots of two episodes involve Erskine-Brown's old public school friends being put in touch with Rumpole through him.

The first of these is Rumpole and the Blind Tasting, which is most notable for introducing us to Judge Graves ("Mr Injustice Graves" as Rumpole calls him), played by Robin "of the" Bailey, who will go on to be one of the most frequently reoccurring judges from this point on, and is probably second only to Judge Bullingham in terms of the most memorable of Rumpole's judicial antagonists.

Almost as noteworthy is the appearance of Stephen "Travis" Greif as the first of Erskine-Brown's old school friends, although in this case "friend" turns out to be the wrong word as he cheerfully tells Rumpole about how he used to bully Erskine-Brown - an efficient way of making it clear to viewers that he is the villain of the episode.

In terms of one-off guest appearances, the episode Rumpole and the Official Secret supplies us with several of note. Judy Cornwell is immediately recognisable from Paradise Towels (made the same year as this), although she is probably better known for the sitcom Keeping Up Appearances. Paul "Dr Bellfriar from Killer" Daneman plays the Lord Chief Justice, while Donald Pickering (who was also in Doctor Who that year, as Beyus in Time and the Rani) and Peter Cellier, both familiar faces from their having played senior civil servants in Yes Prime Minister around this time, here play senior civil servants. Cellier's character is even called Sir Frank again!

This is my favourite of this season, where Rumpole defends a lowly civil service secretary who is charged with leaking trivial (but still secret) details of civil service expenditure to the press. Again Rumpole becomes involved when the accused's boss is an old friend of Claude Erskine-Brown, and is put in touch with Rumpole to try and have the charges "laughed out of court." But things then become increasingly serious as more secrets are revealed, and more senior civil servants get involved. The stakes are high when Rumpole finds himself facing the most senior judge in the land, the Lord Chief Justice, and he is not sympathetic to the defence.

The most sitcomish episode of the season coincides with Peter Bowles making his now obligatory one-episode-a-season showing as Judge Featherstone. Unusually for the series, a great deal of the episode is shown from Featherstone's point of view, not Rumpole's. Having visited a massage parlour (for entirely innocent reasons - hence the story title Rumpole and the Judge's Elbow) and paid by credit card, Featherstone finds himself trying a case of a massage parlour used for "immoral purposes." Not remembering the name of the place he visited, and terrified in case it is the same one, he then spends much of the episode being thwarted in his attempts to find out if he is in the clear or if his receipts might be used in the defence's evidence.

Rumpole, who is of course the barrister acting for the defendant, is for once presented to us as though he is the antagonist. While everything turns out all right for the judge in the end, this is a rare case where Rumpole is on the losing side, especially in this latter part of the series. It just goes to show that the series still has the capacity to surprise us, and to test the limits of its increasingly restrictive format.

A much more familiar sort of format-breaker is to be found in Rumpole and the Bright Seraphim, the one-episode-a-season when Rumpole travels outside London for a case. Travelling to West Germany to defend a British soldier accused of murder, the setting may be out of the ordinary, but the plot structure is anything but - Rumpole pokes holes in the prosecution's case, sees through what a supposedly helpful character is trying to make him believe, and identifies the real culprit. The scene of Rumpole cross-examining a too-full-of-himself medical examiner is virtually a repeat of when he did the same thing in season three's Rumpole and the Sporting Life.

By themselves these aren't major problems, and they'd hardly be the first time the writer John Mortimer has reused his plot beats and character tics. Where the story really suffers from is in being poorly edited to fit into a single episode's duration. This has two consequences - firstly that we end up missing any explanation of how Rumpole deduced the real killer. While there is a scene where we viewers see her smile an 'I've-gotten-away-with-it' smile to herself, indicating her guilt to us at home, Rumpole is not privy to this and so his conclusion appears to be based on nothing.

The story's guest characters also suffer. Despite this being Judge George Frobisher's first appearance since Rumpole's Return (and that was only a cameo), hardly anything is made of this and Rumpole doesn't interact with him outside of the courtroom, meaning this might as well have been any random judge-of-the-week, not one of Rumpole's oldest friends. Other guest characters fare just as badly, and the distinctive voice of Peter Jones is wasted in a small part.

Rumpole's Last Case continues the tradition of the final episode of the season trying to convince viewers that this might just be the very last episode of all. This is one of the least successful attempts, being as it is centred on Rumpole trying to win enough money to retire on by betting on a horse race "accumulator," and then when he does win discovering that the prison "screw" who place the bet for him has absconded with the winnings. Except that the end of season two and Rumpole's Return both made it very clear that Rumpole could retire whenever he liked and go to live with his son in America, so this motivation for Rumpole is a clear case of him acting out of character for the sake of the plot.

Sadly this would turn out to be the Last Case for one of the show's most memorable recurring characters - this is the last of the six appearances by Bill Fraser as arguably Rumpole's greatest adversary, "the Mad Bull" Judge Bullingham. He leaves a big wig to fill.

In terms of overall quality, this is a much more variable season than any of the ones before it. While none of the episodes are outright bad, there are really only two that stand out from the crowd, and for different reasons: Rumpole and the Official Secret for drama, Rumpole and the Judge's Elbow for comedy.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Three (1983)

This season saw a major shake up in the regular cast, with Peter Bowles and Patricia Hodge, both mainstays of the show up until now, only appearing once each. From now on they would make only one or two guest appearances per season, instead of being main characters.

This begins in the first episode of the season, Rumpole and the Genuine Article, which sees Guthrie Featherstone QC MP (Bowles) promoted to a new role in the series as a comedically incompetent judge. Naturally his first case involves Rumpole, defending someone accused of art forgery. When "Featherstone J" boasts that his "judicial eye" can always tell when someone is lying to him, such as a witness, Rumpole takes mischievous delight in proving him wrong.

The best episode of the season is the format-breaker away from London, by now well established as a once-a-season occurrence. In Rumpole and the Golden Thread, Rumpole travels to a former British colony in Africa (a made up one, but perhaps somewhat akin to Ghana or Zimbabwe, alas I'm not knowledgeable enough to say which might be the closest real-world comparison) to defend an opposition politician accused of murder. The stakes feel higher than ever in this case, not only because this country has no juries at its trials, only a single judge appointed by the president-dictator with no love for the accused, but mainly because it still has the death penalty.

It turns out the accused wants to be found guilty, because he thinks a politically motivated guilty verdict will provoke a revolution in the country, and is horrified when Rumpole gets him acquitted by exposing his affair with a woman of a different tribe in order to give him an alibi - with the result that he is politically discredited. This might have been better if the preceding episode had not also featured an accused who secretly wanted Rumpole to fail - at this point the series is in real danger of over-using that particular trope.

What saves the episode and makes it one of the very best of the series is the coda when Rumpole is himself arrested, following a misunderstanding by officials over the meaning of the phrase "doing a murder" - they think this means Rumpole is involved in a conspiracy to have someone killed, when really this is just barrister-speak for participating in a murder trial.

But it means that we finally see made explicit what had until now only been hinted at - that Rumpole's motivation for being a barrister and always acting for the defence (never the prosecution) is based on his own fear of being arrested, convicted and imprisoned. Presumably this comes from his formative experiences at boarding school - experiences that Rumpole has compared to prison ever since the first episode.

Rumpole and the Old Boy Net is a turning point for the series, introducing as it does a character who will be a mainstay from this point on. The replacement for Guthrie Featherstone as head of Rumpole's barrister chambers, and with it the role of regular comic foil for Rumpole, is the pious and pompous Sam Ballard QC, wonderfully played by Peter "Vincent Stoat" Blythe. He is perhaps a bit more of a match for Rumpole than Featherstone or Erskine-Brown, at least at first, although we only see them opposite each other in court once in this season, in this his first appearance.

Memorable one-off guest actors we see in this season include Vernon Dobtcheff as an art expert, not reprising his role as a barrister from the original Play for Today. Rumpole and the Golden Thread featured Joseph Marcell (still probably best known today for being in The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air) and High Quarshie (Solomon in Doctor Who's Daleks in Manhattan - an actor of his quality and that was the role they wasted him in?). Rumpole and the Old Boy Net saw Jack "Professor Travers" Watling appear as a witness. Meanwhile on the bench, guest judges of note included two more memorable appearances by Bill Fraser as Judge Bullingham, and one by Peter "Saruman" Howell. 

Roland Culver (best known to me for playing Augustus in The Caesars) was another guest judge in the fifth episode, Rumpole and the Sporting Life. Unusually for Rumpole of the Bailey, this judge is portrayed sympathetically - he is a judge who, we are told, once passed a death sentence on someone who it later (too late!) turned out was innocent (almost certainly based on a real case) and so carries this on his conscience when judging murder trials. This episode is also notable for featuring Andrew "Jarvik" Burt as an unlikable murder victim.

The final episode of the season, Rumpole and the Last Resort, again tries to wrongfoot viewers into thinking this could be the very final end for Rumpole when he appears to collapse and die in Judge Bullingham's court. This is then revealed to be a ruse on his part to draw out an elusive rogue solicitor who had been cheating the widows of recently deceased barristers out of their money.

In addition to an incongruous appearance from Jim "Bishop Brennan" Norton as a private detective, this episode also features Terence Rigby (Roy "Soldier" Bland in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) as the dodgy solicitor in question, who meets his match when he tries his con on Rumpole's supposed widow, She Who Must Be Obeyed.

Their confrontation is a great scene, and makes for a fine send-off for Peggy Thorpe-Bates, since this would end up being her last time playing Hilda Rumpole. Of the three actresses who played Hilda on TV, Thorpe-Bates was easily the best, giving her character nuance and layers that the others could not match. In this I would compare her to Barbara Murray as the first Pamela Wilder in The Power Game, Virginia Stride as the first Miss Belman in The Mind of Mr. J. G. Reeder, or Stephen Greif as the first Space Commander Travis.

Rumpole's Return

Rumpole's Return was a one-off Christmas special broadcast in December 1980, between seasons two and three of Rumpole of the Bailey. At a little over twice the length of a regular episode, it has room for several subplots and even - a rarity for Rumpole - an action sequence.

Rumpole begins the special unhappily retired and living with his family in the USA, but he soon finds an excuse to Return to his chambers to get involved with the main plot - a seemingly unwinnable murder. New barrister Ken Cracknell has taken Rumpole's place in his old chambers and thinks the way to be rid of Rumpole for good is for him to take on and lose this defence brief.

The murder itself involves a religious cult based in the USA, with a certain resemblance to Scientology - I have to assume this was a topical reference, with Scientology being in the news around the time this was made thanks to the 1978 court case United States v Hubbard. What with Rumpole being back in the UK, he enlists the help of his son Nick to investigate the American headquarters of the Not Scientologists, resulting in a scene where Nick has to escape from their compound. The recasting of Nick from his original actor David Yelland to the more overtly athletic Ian Gelder makes a bit more sense with this scene in mind, though it is equally possible that Yelland was simply unavailable at the time.

A subplot about Rumpole defending a "dirty books" case on behalf of guest actor Alan Lake (Chel in Aftermath, which was made the same year as this) seems to further undermine his confidence when he loses the case, and this takes yet another knock when the murder trial begins and Rumpole sees the judge presiding is none other than his old nemesis, Judge Bullingham. This is probably the Mad Bull's most antagonistic and most memorable appearance in the series - not a coincidence that the two go together.

Placed here after only the first two seasons, when Rumpole was still occasionally seen to lose important cases, it's just about credible that his pulling off a magnificent win under such circumstances might still be a surprise to audiences, but had it come any later in the series then it wouldn't have been - the appeal of Rumpole is now becoming not if he will win his case, but how will he? It's difficult to pinpoint exactly when the transition is made, but Rumpole's Return is as good a point as any other.

In spite of the name promising us further adventures of Horace Rumpole, it would be almost three years before Rumpole would Return again.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season Two (1979)

If the first season of Rumpole of the Bailey, having fully established the lead and his family, only began to develop the supporting cast, the second season goes a long way towards finishing the task. Peter "A" Bowles, Julian Curry and Patricia Hodge each appear in five of the six episodes as Rumpole's fellow barristers Guthrie Featherstone QC MP, Claude Erskine-Brown and Phyllida Trant respectively.

This core cast of comic foils helps fully establish the series staple format where the events of the main plot, Rumpole's case-of-the-week, is mirrored by an out-of-court sub-plot involving the supporting characters. An example of this can be seen in Rumpole and the Course of True Love, where the sordid story of a teacher accused of sleeping with one of his pupils is contrasted with Erskine-Brown getting Miss Trant pregnant, and the episode ends with them marrying.

Changing attitudes since this was made in the late 1970s can be seen in the way the teacher, played by Nigel Havers, is treated far more sympathetically by the script than one would expect him to be in an equivalent drama made today, with the programme going out of its way to demonstrate that he was seduced by the girl, conniving with her boyfriend (also a school pupil) to get their hated teacher into trouble.

Also appearing in that episode were John "Sir Arnold" Nettleton and Peter "Sir Frank" Cellier, both familar to me from Yes Prime Minister.

Other guest appearances of note in season two include Derek Farr and Tony Caunter, who played the Ensors senior and junior respectively in the first season of Blakes 7, only a year before going on to be in this.

On the bench, Judge Bullingham (Bill Fraser) makes his second appearance, but the main adversary for Rumpole this season is found in the form of Judge Vosper (Donald "Krasis" Eccles) in three episodes, though he does not return again after season two.

It's difficult to pick a single standout episode from this set of six because the standard is so high for all of them. The fourth episode, Rumpole and the Fascist Beast, sees Rumpole defending a parliamentary candidate for an (unnamed) far-right party who stands accused of inciting racial hatred. When Rumpole gets him off by making the jury see him as a joke, a dreamer, and a relic of the bygone age of the British Empire, he commits suicide - another example of something that is becoming a familiar format point of Rumpole, where the defendant would rather have been found guilty than not guilty.

Roger Sloman is in this playing one of the fascists. He was also a fascist in a 1976 episode of Crown Court that I happened to watch recently, which is either a coincidence or else an unlucky bit of typecasting. Does he perhaps look, or sound, like a typical 1970s neo-nazi?

We get a format-breaker for the third episode, Rumpole and the Show Folk, where Rumpole is the only regular character to feature since the story is set outside of London, away from Rumpole's chambers and the Old Bailey. The absence of Featherstone, Erskine-Brown, etc. (not to mention Hilda Rumpole!) is filled by several guest characters - Eleanor "exquisite" Bron is an actress accused of murdering her actor husband, John Wells a fabulously camp theatre manager (who almost manages the impossible task of stealing the show from McKern), and Bernard "Marcus Scarman" Archard as a local barrister.

Probably the most dramatically powerful moment of the season comes here when, after having concluded his case for the defence and while he and his client are waiting for the jury to reach their verdict, Rumpole realises that his client is probably guilty after all; that the actress gave a performance that even fooled Rumpole.

There is also a cat in this episode, so of course it was great!

The last episode, Rumpole and the Age for Retirement, teases the audience with the possibility that Rumpole will retire for good, bringing the series to a permanent end. This sets the precedent for future season finales to fake out the viewers with the prospect of similar final ends (season four's Rumpole's Last Case being the most obvious of these). Rumpole's family, friends and colleagues from his chambers, and even Judge Vosper, all conspire to present Rumpole with retirement as a fait accompli, with him and Hilda set to move to America to live with their son Nick. I can't see it lasting, and not just because the next episode is called Rumpole's Return...

A change does come to the series when one of the chambers regulars, Rumpole's friend George Frobisher (Moray Watson), leaves to become a judge. Having been in eight episodes across the first two seasons, we will see him again only a couple of times more. This shakes up the status quo, permanently, and is a hint of things to come.

Rumpole of the Bailey, Season One (1978)

In 1975 the Play for Today of Rumpole of the Bailey was made by the BBC and told a self-contained story about the character and his family. Three years later Rumpole returned, this time on ITV in a long-running series that saw seven seasons broadcast between 1978 and 1992.

Eventually this series settled down into a somewhat cosy formula, but there is as yet little evidence of this final form in the first season, which is only the first part of a bridge from the original Play for Today 'pilot' episode to the familiar Rumpole of the later years.

Unlike all the subsequent seasons, which would be set near-contemporaneously with the years in which they were made, the first season is set over the course of 10 years from 1967 to 1977, as is made clear from on-screen captions seen shortly after the opening titles. While most characters seem to change little over the course of the decade, this is crucial for the development of the Rumpole's son Nick, who goes from a senior schoolboy in the first episode to a university graduate, engaged to be married, and about to embark on an academic career by episode three.

The third episode, Rumpole and the Honorable Member, is the standout story of the season, and one that is tough to imagine coming any later in the series' run. In it, Rumpole defends an MP accused of rape, which he does by (as was a standard practice for defence barristers at the time) attacking the character of the accuser. The cross-examination scene is the most brutal of the entire series, with Rumpole pulling no punches, and it makes for a difficult viewing since this is supposed to be 'our hero' doing this.

What makes it even worse is when it later comes out that the accused is guilty after all, meaning Rumpole had been attempting to discredit an innocent and honest person. He is left having to defend his actions to his future daughter-in-law (who was horrified at having witnessed the cross-examination in court) by arguing that the accused was entitled to be defended until he was proved guilty (that is what "innocent until proven guilty" means). This is true enough, but that doesn't make it any easier to watch.

The MP Rumpole was defending was played by Anton "Susan died a year ago, Number Six" Rodgers in a guest appearance. Speaking of The Prisoner, we are introduced in the first episode to Guthrie Featherstone QC MP, a recurring character played by Peter "A" Bowles. As a fellow barrister in Rumpole's "chambers," he is sometimes an ally and sometimes a rival to Rumpole. Appearing in four of the six episodes, he benefits from possibly the most character development of any of the supporting cast in chambers, potentially matched only by Claude Erskine-Brown (Julian Curry), also appearing in four episodes but not really heavily involved in the plots of any of them. Never mind, Erskine-Brown will get his chance in later seasons - aside from Rumpole himself, he is the barrister we will see the most of, across all seven seasons.

Other one-off guest appearances of note include Jane Asher as Rumpole's client in the second episode, Rumpole and the Alternative Society, appearing alongside one of her colleagues from The Stone Tape, Tom CHAAAAADBON, here playing a police detective. Also in that same episode is Peter "Count Grendel " Jeffrey as an old friend of Rumpole's.

While Rumpole of the Bailey would feature several memorable recurring judges throughout the length of the series (each with an adversarial attitude to Rumpole that often made them more of an opposition to him than the other barristers), the only one to be seen here in the first season is Judge Bullingham, "the Mad Bull." This head start, combined with the distinctive snarling characterisation from Bill Fraser, arguably makes him the most memorable of all the judges Rumpole would face over his career.

In the final episode of the season, Rumpole and the Heavy Brigade, Rumpole is set up to fail by two conniving brothers, played by Bruce "Pirate Captain" Purchase and Derek "Greg Sutton" Newark, who employ Rumpole to defend their third brother, who stands accused of a murder they themselves were responsible for. Trevor "Professor Litefoot" Baxter also appears as a solicitor whose loyalties are divided between the two villainous brothers who are paying him, and the accused brother with whom his sympathies lie.

The brothers' plot is foiled when Rumpole successfully defends the case, leading the police to look for the real killers. A triumphant Rumpole realises that he was only chosen for the case because of his eccentric mannerisms and disheveled outward appearance (which includes his old and battered hat that he wears in spite of derogatory comments from judges), and that without these his client might have been found guilty.

Far from covering up a hollow interior life, Rumpole's eccentricities conceal that he is a seeker after justice and a defender of those in need of him. This is a thematic reversal of the ending of the Play for Today, and sets Rumpole up for his new life as a continuing character and, eventually, a television institution.

Play for Today: Rumpole of the Bailey (1975)

The TV series Rumpole of the Bailey ran on ITV from 1978 to 1992, but it started out as this one-off Play for Today on the BBC. From the very first scene he appears in, Horace Rumpole is there and fully formed as a character, embodied by Leo McKern in the only role that could possibly overshadow his Number Two (in my mind, at least). This scene also features the first use of his catchphrase (one of many), referring to his wife Hilda as "She Who Must Be Obeyed."

With only an hour to tell a complete story, the only characters from the later TV series who appear here are the members of the Rumpole family. Both wife Hilda and son Nick are written quite differently, in service of the plot being told here, their characterisation later being softened considerably to make them suitable for an ongoing series. Hilda especially is very different, and it is impossible to imagine series-Hilda as a quiet alcoholic, sinking a bottle of gin in one night as her only way of escaping from her domestic situation.

This is because while the main plot is ostensibly a comic tale about the crime Rumpole is the defence barrister for, his struggle to get his client off in the face of the evidence against him, and his subsequent victory in court, the sub-plot is a tragic one as the Rumpoles' son Nick, now grown up, leaves for a job in America and so his parents face having an 'empty nest' and a hole in their lives. Rumpole can fill this gap with his job, but where does that leave Hilda?*

The tragic side would remain present in the TV series through its first two seasons, often as an undertone (before disappearing entirely by the end of the third), but never to such an extent as here. This is probably due to the larger cast of characters made possible in a long-running series, and one where many of the other characters, such as Rumpole's fellow barristers, would largely be comic foils for Rumpole to play off. We get close to this here when Vernon Dobtcheff makes an appearance as the prosecuting barrister opposing Rumpole in court, and he is shown to be no match for the experienced Rumpole's many tricks of the trade.

While Rumpole is the member of the family who comes closest to their final TV series form, there is a crucial difference in the character we see here, hidden by the fact he is played by McKern (both Hilda and Nick would be recast) in such a similar way to series-Rumpole. The Rumpole of the Play for Today could never have sustained a full series, because all his eccentricities and character tics are revealed to us here to be an act; a front that he puts on to enable him to get through the day and do his job. They are to him what the gin is to Hilda.

While there are some hints of this self-awareness in the series version (again, in the early seasons only), the eccentricities are mostly played for real, since, after all, the character is much more fun that way, and it suits the lighter tone of the more overtly comedic series. But what this means is that the character of Rumpole has already been deconstructed, before his TV series even began.

Predeconstructed, if you will.

* The TV series would solve this by retconning Hilda as having friends and an extended family (who didn't get on with Rumpole), as well as meddling in her husband's job due to her father having been a barrister. Essentially an entirely new backstory and characterisation.

Rumpole of the Village

Is Rumpole of the Bailey a sequel series to The Prisoner?

We never find out much about Number 6 in The Prisoner, but we never really find out much about any of the Number 2's either, not even the one who was in the most episodes, played by Leo McKern. What we do know is that [WARNING: spoilers for Fall Out follow] in the end he sides with Number 6, escapes the Village with him, and is last seen entering the Houses of Parliament in London.

Horace Rumpole was in the RAF Ground Staff during WW2, before returning to his work as a barrister after the war and made his name by winning the "Penge Bungalow Murders" case - alone and without a leader - in either the late '40s or* early '50s. He married Hilda Wystan around the same time and they had one child, Nick Rumpole.

After that we know next to nothing about Rumpole's life until the late 1960s, when the first episode of the series is set. This gap of almost 20 years matches with the setting of The Prisoner and therefore we can suppose it matches the time that McKern's Number 2 was involved in working in the espionage trade, eventually coming to his position in the Village and his fateful encounter with Number 6.

If we consider Rumpole's philosophy, expressed throughout the series, we can see signs of Number 6 having rubbed off on the former Number 2. His creed of "never plead guilty" matches the way Number 6 never gave up in the face of the seemingly unstoppable might of the Village's methods of oppression. And his knowledge of the Village's methods also explains why he would so often say "there is no piece of evidence more unreliable than a confession!"

I suppose we must also conclude that Guthrie Featherstone QC MP, or "A" as he was known in the Village, was also in the espionage business. As was Ken Aspen MP, who required Rumpole's services as a barrister to defend him. But then again, that former Number 2 would know as well as any that doppelgangers exist.

* A biography of Rumpole is on Wikipedia here but it is the first to admit that his age and important dates in his life were often retconned by the author to keep Rumpole at approximately 70 years old in the "present."

The Prisoner Challenge: The Chimes of Big Ben

"Where am I?"

"In the Village."

"What do you want?"

"Information."

"Whose side are you on?"

"That would be telling. We want information. Information... information..."

"You won't get it."

"By hook or by crook - we will."

"Who are you?"

"The new Number 2."

"Who is Number 1?"

"You are Number 6."

"I am not a number, I am a free man!"

"Bwahahahaha!"

The Chimes of Big Ben was the second broadcast episode of The Prisoner, and as such it contains a number of firsts for the series. It is the first episode to contain the exchange I have quoted above between Number 6 and Number 2 (sometimes voiced by the actor playing Number 2 that episode, sometimes not) as the second part of the title sequence.

It is also the first episode where Number 2 is played by Leo McKern, though - unusually but not uniquely - not the last. He is a fantastic actor who I have recently been watching in Rumpole of the Bailey.

His Number 2 makes for one of the best antagonists in the series by making him, in only a few lines of dialogue, a more rounded and believable character than many of the others, with the suggestion that he was once a prisoner like Number 6 but now a convert to the side of the Village.

I understand there is a bit of a question of why this is the second episode of The Prisoner. In it Number 6 is clearly shown to have been in the Village a while and become accustomed to some aspects of Village life, unlike in some (broadcast) later episodes such as Dance of the Dead.

I think the answer may lie in the way this episode, in its opening moments, makes explicit something that was only suggested in Arrival: that if Number 6 tells them why he resigned, he loses. Take this exchange between Number 2's assistant (played by Christopher Benjamin, who was also in Arrival) and Number 2:

Assistant: "He doesn't even bend a little."

Number 2: "That's why he'll break. It only needs one small thing. If he will answer one simple question, the rest will follow - why did he resign?"

This establishes the conflict at the heart of not only this episode but also the series as a whole.

Alternatively it could be that ITV broadcast the episodes in any old order, and it was only luck that Arrival was shown first.

There are direct parallels between this episode and Arrival when Number 6 is shown Number 8 (Nadia) waking up in the Village for the first time and acting much as he did when he first woke up and saw an exact replica of his room but with the Village outside.

Of course the situation is then flipped when he meets her and it is Number 6 playing the part of the local, with all the knowledge of the Village that she lacks.

"Oh I'm frightened," she says to him outside Number 2's house.

"Goodbye," is his only reaction to this.

"I've done nothing wrong," Nadia insists. "I've committed no crime, all I did was resign." This line confirms, if there was any doubt, that she is a direct counterpart for him. How does Number 6 respond to this?

"No use telling me." Without sympathy. It seems clear that after the events of Arrival (and however many more chapters that have passed since then) Number 6 is already suspicious that she may be a trap for him.

But when they meet again she acts suspicious of Number 6 and takes him as one of Number 2's assistants - a trap for her? He is eventually convinced she really is a prisoner after witnessing an escape attempt foiled by Rover that lands Nadia in the hospital, and then her apparent suicide attempt.

Is Number 6 still being quite naive though? His 'abstract art' consisting of the hull and mast of the boat to be used in the escape attempt - did he really think they wouldn't see it? Or am I just being cynical, having seen this episode before?

Though I have to say I think using the tapestry of Number 2 as the sail is a touch of genius.

"Orange Alert. Orange Alert." Rover attacks Number 6 and Nadia out at sea, just when they're within sight of Nadia's friends and it looks like they have escaped. As with Rover's attack on Nadia earlier, this lends credibility to the escape.

I find the sequence showing their 'escape' to London is somewhat reminiscent of scenes in From Russia With Love, where James Bond is escaping Eastern Europe with Tatiana Romanova.

There is a bit of a cheat at this point in the story - the scene in London with Fotheringay on the telephone, which Number 6 couldn't be aware of, can surely therefore only exist to keep the audience thinking the 'escape' is real.

When they get to 'London' the Colonel's...

Big Gay Longcat says: It's Kevin Stoney!

The Colonel's debriefing of Number 6 in 'London' is possibly the closest they ever get to him admitting why he resigned. But at that very moment their plan is foiled by the smallest of errors - forgetting the time difference between Poland and England.

"Why did you resign?"

"I resigned because, for a very long time... just... just a minute, it's 8 O'Clock."

The Colonel doesn't realise the significance of this statement - that Number 6 has seen through their plan in that instant - and he tries to carry on.

"That's right - the night is young and there are many questions. First: why did you resign?"

Patrick McGoohan's performance of Number 6's reaction to this is amazing, the way he walks out of the room, out of the building, and says nothing except "Be seeing you" and rejoins the Village. He won't break.

And, of course, Nadia was one of them. Number 6 underestimated the lengths the Village went to to make her performance convincing, but they cannot use a trick like that on him again. So the episode ends as it must - Number 2's plan is defeated and Number 6 is still a prisoner.

Next: A. B. and C.

Guest spot: Monkeys With Badges

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We like Rumpole of the Bailey.