Always on a Saturday, always at 12:20.
Marvelous.
Football this afternoon?
No, I don't think so. I've a mind I'll have a go at the car.
What time does the cleaners close in the parade?
Dry cleaners? —Quick return.
I wouldn't know, really. 1:00, I should think.
That's the time they usually close on a Saturday.
If you get out sharp on the half-hour you ought to make it.
Yes, I'll just finish this first.
Is it all right?
Yes, thanks.
Held up this morning. —Don't start taking it to bits again, Mr. Groomkirby, will you?
Have a good week-end, goodbye. —Bye!
See you on Monday, Arthur. —Don't stay too long.
Shove it all in the drawer and leave it. —Have a nice weekend, Mr. Groomkirby.
Nine stone, three pounds.
Harmony is the keynote of your relationships, contacts, and activities today.
[tuning fork intones]2
Just locking up, Mr. Groomkirby.
Afraid that one's locked, Mr. Groomkirby. —Thank you!
Surely, you can let...
Sorry!
Eight stone, ten pounds.
Eight stone exactly.
Fred! Fred!
Want a lift? —If you wouldn't mind. —Jump on. —Thank you!
All right?
All right at the Old Bailey again this afternoon?
No, it's closed on Saturday, Fred; there's nothing on.
In any case I've got something at home I'm working on at the moment.
Not another Great Wall of China?
No, not this time.
This'll do me nicely, Fred.
Just a minute! Thanks, Fred, it looks's've I'm just in time.
Don't wait, it's only around the corner, I can walk it three minutes.
See you on Monday; have a good weekend. —And you, Fred.
Ah, Mr. Groomkirby, I was just shutting up.
I'm not too late then? —No, no.
It's all ready.
The robes are all in there. I think you'll find they turned out rather well.
And this is the wig.
I didn't wrap it up; I thought you might like to see it. —Oh, yes!
Wouldn't recognize it, would you?
It's a beautiful job. —Yes, they do a very good job; there's no doubt about that.
And they're very reasonable, very reasonable, indeed.
There you are, Mr. Groomkirby. Can you manage those?
Yes, that's fine. Thank you very much.
Goodbye, Mr. Groomkirby. Have a nice weekend. —Goodbye.
Really!
[male chorus] Do, mi so do so... Do, mi so do so... [male & female chorus] Do, mi so do so...
Do, mi so do so...
[chorus of weight machines] Do, mi so do so...
Mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi...
Mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi... [deep, gravelly mechanical voice] Mi mi mi mi mi mi
[higher note] Mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi mi...
[sour note] Mi mi mi mi mi mi, fifteen stone, ten pounds. [mechanism breaks]
[clears throat]
Do, mi so do so...
[chorus of weight machines] Do, mi so do so...
[faster] Do, mi so do so...
[chorus, in time] Do, mi so do so...
Do, mi so do so... Do, mi so do so...
[one note higher] Do, mi so do so... [one note higher] Do, mi so do so...
[one note higher still] Do, mi so do so...
What? I can't hear you! [chorus drowns out with repetitive do-so's]
[unintelligible conversation over the sound of the chorus]
What? I can't hear you! [chorus loudly singing la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la's]
Wait a minute! [chorus still singing]
Phew, I just couldn't hear you, that's all.
Oh, I don't know, some male voice choir or something.
Yes, I have done.
Yes, I heard you when you said it before.
Yeah? Well it's up to you then, isn't it?
Well, I...
What's happened to my tricycle, Mabel?
You know perfectly well it hasn't come yet, Aunt Mildred.
I shall be too old to ride it if it doesn't come soon.
It's nothing to do with me.
Like living on the pavement. —Well, I'm very sorry to hear that.
Do you remember Maude and that tricycle she had, Mabel?
"Complete Cabinet-maker and Joiner"
She didn't stick to it.
She never stuck to anything for any length of time.
Arthur!
Something else in here for me to clear up after him, I suppose.
As if I haven't got enough to do with this lot...
Shavings all over the floor, sawdust... — ... roller skates, rickshaws...
I think she's tried practically everything at one time or another.
"Do's and Don'ts For Dovetailers"
"Ways With Wood"
"Noah's Ark: The Supreme Achievement in Wood"
First it's Stonehenge, now it's Noah's Ark.
At least this time we shan't have people calling us Druids behind our backs.
Something to be thankful for. — ... I can't make up your mind for you, can I Harv?
For Heaven's sake, Sylvia.
Do you remember that, Mabel?
She wouldn't go anywhere without her camel.
If she wasn't on top of it she was walking along beside it.
I do and sometimes I don't, I haven't the faintest idea.
You're not going to be there all night are you, Sylvia?
Wait a minute!
[chorus of weight machines] La, la la la la la la la...
[solo tenor machine] La, la la la la la.
[solo alto machine] La, la la la la la la la, la la la la...
La, la... La, la la la, la la la la, la la la la-a-a...
[chorus of weight machines] La, la la la la la la la, la la la la, la la.
Just listen to it!
Wait until he gets them all trained properly, Sylvia. —Oh, I can't wait!
She rode to Hounds on it more than once... —What?
Maude Banquet rode to Hounds on her camel.
"My ship of the desert" she used to call it.
Until it threw her. [laughs]
I told her they were treacherous, but she wouldn't listen.
Oh no, not tonight! Not Mrs. Gantry, please, Mum!
Somebody's got to eat the food up, Sylvia.
Yeah, but tonight of all nights!
Well there's no use leaving it to mount up. I've only got one larder, Sylvia.
Here you are, you can take this up to Kirby.
Why can't he come down for it himself? —You know very well he's busy up there.
[drumroll, then marching snare drum]
Fifteen stone, ten pounds.
Don't let that get cold, Sylvia.
You've got right a load on there, haven't you?
Yes, well... I guess...
All it needs is for this to fall into the path of an oncoming vehicle, and you've got yourself an accident.
You're not selling anything, are you? You need a license for that.
Oh no, that's for the statue of justice.
I don't care if it's for the Statue of Liberty. It constitutes a danger to the public.
With a load like this, why didn't you make two journeys?
Yes, well I made one journey and went the long way round.
Just as broad as it is long. —That's what they all say.
Go on. —Thank you!
Have you rang his bell? I didn't hear it if you did.
Alright, alright.
You know he won't start eating 'til he's heard it.
He was perfectly alright 'til he heard about Pablum and his idiotic dogs.
What do I ring up here? No sale?
Oh surely you know by now, Sylvia. Yes!
All this pantomime... What're you going to do when this thing wears out?
Starve to death, I suppose.
By rail to outer space...
And here I am sitting here.
Perhaps you got on the wrong train, Aunt Mildred.
Of course I was on the wrong train!
I knew the moment I heard the man say "Outer Hebrides" that I was on the wrong train.
She's off again... —I can hear she is.
Great, old-fashioned thing... Cluttering up the place; I don't know what she's doing there.
Well, we're not getting rid of her if that's what you're leading up to.
Just the night I've got Stan coming.
Oh, I thought you weren't seeing Stan anymore.
What time's she going to be here anyway? —I dont know, Sylvia.
It's 5:00 now...gone.
Stan's supposed to be coming at quarter past six.
You haven't both got to sit here and watch her, have you?
Well what are we supposed to do then?
Well, if you were to do your proper share of eating between you, instead of leaving it all to me...
I shouldn't have to have Mrs. Gantry in anything like so often.
Paying out good money all the time...
25 years since I left St Pancras.
Be quiet, Aunt Mildred!
And here I am still sitting here.
It's awfully well for you, Sylvia, to sit there carrying on.
You don't want to stay in, there's nothing to stop you going out, is there?
You're not both going to sit here all the evening saying nothing are you?
I don't know what we're going to do yet.
If she's coming we haven't got much choice, have we?
I mean, I can't take him upstairs with the master singers going full blast up there, can I?
No, you certainly can't.
And while we're about it, Sylvia, let's get one thing quite clear:
I don't mind Stan coming here (so long as he's not under my feet all the time),
but we can get one thing settled here and now: he is not being taken upstairs; that's quite definite.
That's one thing I do draw the line at.
That's yours on the mantelpiece there, Sylvia; you might ... put it away before Mrs. Gantry gets here.
Not even a luggage rack for my things.
Hardly seems like traveling...
You can hardly expect to have a luggage rack in the Outer Hebrides, Aunt Mildred!
Pity she can't be in the Outer Hebrides...
What was that? —Kirby.
Haven't done anything about that yet, have you Sylvia?
'T isn't exactly an ornament to have about the place.
Dirty old skull on the mantelpiece. —It's only a death's head.
I should have thought you'd've found something better to do with your money than spend it on a thing like that.
As a matter of fact it's a memento mori if you really want to know.
Oh? And what's a memento mori for heaven's sake?
Stan bought it for me. You carry it around with you.
Looks like it, stuck up there.
Well you don't have to carry it around...
just so long as it's somewhere where you can see it.
It's supposed to remind you of death.
And does it?
Does it what?
I thought it was supposed to remind you of death.
Not all that much.
You better tell Stan he's been done over that then, Sylvia.
Now what's he up to?
Stop fussing Mum; he's only moving his weight about.
He'll be rupturing himself up there.
Kirby! Are you alright?
I suppose it's alright.
Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop, When the wind blows the cradle will rock,
♫ When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall...
Got some nice voices up there.
The master singers aren't in it, I'm sure.
[loud racket upstairs]
Fifteen stone, ten pounds.
Don't just sit there, Sylvia!
Well he's only tripped over something.
He's very likely waiting up there to fall back unconscious.
I thought as much. —Fifteen stone, ten pounds.
479 destinations...
... and not so much as a tricycle to take me to one of them.
Oh, be quiet, Aunt Mildred.
If Stan comes, I'm upstairs getting ready.
Don't bother to answer that, will you, Sylvia?
Oh... —Good afternoon, Mrs. Groomkirby.
She's just gone upstairs to get ready if you want to come in and wait.
Thanks very much; I will if you don't mind.
I don't know how long she's going to be— another hour I shouldn't be surprised.
Turning chilly...
Make yourself at home in there if you like till she's ready.
Sylvia, here's Stan!
He's waiting, so don't be all night up there.
In here?
Yeah. If you go through to the garden you might find Mr. Groomkirby out there.
Right. —I'll tell her you're here. —Thanks, Mrs. Groomkirby.
Sylvia!
Good afternoon.
If only I could feel I had a proper destination...
Some proper transport to take me there...
Like Maude; she has an ambulance.
Till she had an accident with it.
[clears throat]
Could I give you a hand with that, Mr. Groomkirby? —Hello, Stan.
Thirty minutes it's taken me to get here with this lot— traffic lights and whatnot.
Put this somewhere, will you?
Right.
You could give me a hand with some of the rest of it if you're doing nothing.
I'm waiting for Sylvia, actually. —It won't take a minute.
You don't know how long she's likely to be I suppose?
Who? —Sylvia.
Only we're supposed to be going out.
Now watch that end when it touches the ground, will you Stan?
Got it?
That's why I don't want to get myself too messed up if I can help it.
I think it might just go through there...
When you're ready, Stan...
On your left, Stan, as you are... Good lad.
Now what's he letting us in for?
Don't say you're ready, Sylvia, at last.
Ready? With my arms like this?
What's the matter with your arms?
You can't see what's the matter with them?
You've only got to look at them!
Well, you've been out with them like that often enough before.
I can't see anything wrong with them.
Turn round, let me see...
Hold them naturally.
They look just the same to me as they always do.
Well that doesn't make them any better!
Look!
Look where they reach to!
I am looking, Sylvia; they're perfectly alright.
I don't know what you're on about.
Steady, Stan!
She does her own hair, I suppose.
Careful, Stan, take it up a bit to the end.
Can you take it up a bit just to clear that?
That's it...
Just look at them!
Look where they reach to!
They're perfectly alright, Sylvia.
That's the proper length for your arms.
Mine are exactly the same; so are your father's.
Look!
Look at that gap!
I still don't know what you're talking about, Sylvia; I can't see any gap. [cash register dings]
Rule Brittania...
Oh really, Mum! The only peace and quiet we've had for days, and you had to go and do that!
... never shall be slaves. When Britain ...
Your end, Stan, your end... That's it.
Stan... —What seems to be happening, Mabel?
They've put me where I can see through the window!
Oh, I think I must be in the station-master's office!
Did you know there were two Red Setters at the end of the garden?
I can see them from where I'm sitting.
They must be blue with cold out there.
Red Setters are red, Aunt Mildred.
The rest are sounding good, aren't they?
If they didn't start so blessed high I might be able to reach my knees with them.
It's beyond me, Sylvia, why you should want to reach your knees with them.
In any case you can bend down and do it, can't you? —I don't like to have to bend down.
That's the whole point.
You realize Stan's waiting, don't you?
Well he'll have to wait a bit longer.
Four foot... eleven, twelve — five foot.
Ah no, no it won't take it.
Take this for me will you, Stan?
I suppose it's Stan we've got to thank for all this nonsense about your arms.
It's got nothing to do with Stan.
Well anyway there's nothing we can do about it now.
You should've thought of all this before you were born.
For heaven's sake, Mum!
We're not turning you into some monstrosity or other just to satisfy one of your whims, Sylvia.
Making you look like an ape...
What was that?!
It's alright. It's only Dad in the other room.
Are you alright, Arthur?
Arthur!
Take this, will you Stan?
Arthur, are you alright?
Yes, we're alright, Mrs. Groomkirby, thanks.
Find me something to push this back up again, will you, Stan?
Anything'll do, just so I can get a purchase on it.
Something long, Stan.
That's no use; I can't get it back up with that.
It's all there seems to be.
Look...
Look, up here, Stan... Stan!
Just hold this where it is, will you?
I'll see if there's anything in the kitchen.
Got it?
At least apes can reach their knees without bending.
Apes are bending all the time, Sylvia, as well you know.
What on earth was all that noise?
Just trying something out Mabel, that's all.
Oh, a Mr. Justice called. Something about being on the circuit.
To do with the mains, I suppose.
They've probably been looking at our electricity bills.
Hope we're not gonna have something else in here now eating up the current.
Whatever you may say about apes, at least they don't have to bend down practically to the floor before they can reach their knees.
Arms like apes, if you please; that's what she wants now.
Couldn't run to it, Sylvia. Need a whole new set of glands.
If you ask me, she's spending too much time at the zoo with Stan.
Oh, Stan! For heaven's sake, leave him out of it!
I thought we were leading up to something like this when you started on about your arms in the first place.
If it comes to that, I don't know what you've both got against apes anyway.
We've got nothing against apes, Sylvia! ... as such.
Dad...?
It's only since you've been going to the zoo with Stan two or three times a week we've had all of this.
Look for the last time, Mum, it's got nothing to do with Stan, so d'you mind shutting up about him?
Look at that thing.
Supposed to remind you of death.
Hasn't worked since he gave it to her.
Natural history museum every weekend, and the zoo in the half-day...
I'm not surprised she gets hold of all these idiotic ideas.
You don't have to keep on at her all the time, Mabel.
I notice you soon had something to say when you thought you might have to dip into your pocket for her new glands.
And it won't last 5 minutes when she gets them.
Same with that other craze, when she wanted to be a pterodactyl.
How long did that last?
She might've made a go at that pterodactyl, Mabel, if you hadn't kept on at her.
Any case, what man in his right senses in going to look twice at an ape?
Stan, for one.
Don't tell me you're ready, Sylvia, at last?
What on earth do you think you look like?
It's only a bit of dust and plaster; it'll come off.
Leave there, Stan, I think we might have a go over here.
When you're ready...
Where's a clothes brush? Hand me a clothes brush!
You don't imagine I came like this, do you?
Maybe if you'd been ready at the proper time, I wouldn't have been let in for this in the first place.
What did you say? "Let in for it?"
I couldn't very well tell your... —You stand there covered in dust and dirt,
and then you try to say that it's my fault! You've got a nerve!
I've been helping your father if you want to know. How's that?
Have you? Well, if you think that I'm going to be seen out with you looking like that, you can think again.
Where are you going?
Why don't you go back in there and ask him if he's got any more jobs for you?
For God's sake, Sylvia, I can go home and change in ten minutes!
Stan? —What?
Have you got a minute, Stan?
I was actually... —It won't take a minute, Stan.
Sorry, I'm...
Well!
Anybody at home? —Hello, Myra!
I do hope I'm not too early, Mabel. —Of course not, Myra.
I've got it all ready in the kitchen. Let me take your coat for ya.
I went straight smack into her, the 15-stone wonder.
Served you right for you to've laid yourself out.
Would it? —As a matter of fact, I saw her coming!
Where do you want me, Mabel? Over here? —If you would, Myra.
Hope there's not too much for you.
Goodness no, won't take me long to polish this off.
I'll get started right away, on the gherkins.
The last time Maud Banquet was here, I took her out to see the aurora borealias.
You can get a wonderful view of the aurora borealis from the station-master's office, if you stand on a chair.
She wanted to call it the northern lights, but I said no.
Either we call it the aurora borealis or we don't call it anything at all, I said.
And then we took it in turns; some days she's call it the northern lights while I called it the aurora borealis,
some days it was the other way round; she called it the aurora borealis while I called it the northern lights.
We got on very well together.
We're trying to get a tricycle for her, but they don't seem to make them side-saddle anymore.
She lives for her transport, doesn't she?
She thinks she's in the Outer Hebrides, waiting for a train back to St Pancras.
If that boiled ham's too much for you, Myra, don't be afraid to leave it.
Don't you worry, Mabel, we'll soon pack this away.
You heard about Mr. Gridlake? —No.
Oh, thought you might have heard... had an accident on his skis.
Serious? —Killed himself.
No! —It was his own fault, really.
He went straight down the incline, round the bend, into the jaws of death.
What on earth for?
Showing off, I suppose.
I'd've thought he'd've had more sense.
He hadn't intended to stay there, of course.
In one side and out the other, I suppose.
With his skis on sideways. —Sideways?
Trying to take death in by putting his skis on the wrong way round.
I feel sorry for Mrs. Gridlake.
What actually happened in there? Missed his footing, I suppose.
I'll tell you what I think happened, Mabel...
Too confident.
No...
What I think happened was that he went in alright, then caught his head a glancing blow as he was coming out.
It's easily done...
...especially with a tall man. —Stunned himself.
Stunned himself, and then of course it was too late.
'Stead of allowing for his height... —Allow for it?
Don't suppose he even knew what it was. —Oh, but he must've done, Myra.
Can't believe he didn't even know his own height!
Mr. Gantry doesn't.
D'you mean to say he doesn't know how tall he is?
He's not all that certain how short he is, Mabel, if it comes to that!
It's about time you made him have himself measured, Myra.
... and even your own counsel has to admit that not only were you as drunk as a wheelbarrow,
but that you were quite incapable of so much as falling flat on your face when asked to do so.
[machine revving up] ♫ Rule Britannia, Britannia rule the waves...
I wish I'd known sooner, I could've told Kirby.
Sooner? —About Mr. Gridlake.
He's always glad of a chance to get to his mourning.
Kirby loves his black, doesn't he!
He's never out of it, Myra.
On the other hand, he won't wear it unless he's got someone to go into mourning for.
Been killing people, I suppose?
Not so far as I know, Myra.
We don't say too much about it 'cause it only drives him in on himself.
He thinks a lot too much about death to be good for him.
Perhaps now he's got his music it'll take his mind off it a bit.
Arthur's the same really, though he's more taken up with the legal side of things.
Books all over the place, law books and that sort of thing.
Never finished moving them.
They're all the same, Mabel, have to have something to occupy themselves.
What I'm dreading is the day he brings the Old Bailey home for us all to fall over.
The accused, Kirby Groomkirby has admitted in the magistrate's court
that between the 1st of August last year and the 9th of April he has been fairly regularly taking life.
Where is the accused?
Is he in the court?
He is in the dock, m'lord.
I see no dock.
The, uh, dock has not yet arrived, m'lord.
Where is it?
I, uh, understand it is on its way, m'lord.
With the accused in it? —Yes, m'lord.
There've been certain delays, m'lord.
Traffic light, I suppose. —That and other untoward occurrences, m'lord.
Well, he should be here.
I have already disorganized my personal arrangements pretty considerably in order to accommodate the Court by being present.
I do not propose to put myself to any further inconveniences by having this case running over time.
If the accused is not here, we shall have to go on without him.
As your lordship pleases.
[clears throat]
The accused, Kirby Groomkirby, has admitted in the magistrate's court
that between the 1st of August last year and the 9th of April he has been fairly regularly taking life,
and since the case was heard there 3 weeks ago has asked for 9 other offenses in addition to the 34 in the original indictment
to be taken into account, making a total altogether of 43.
On the last occasion on which he took a life he was warned by Detective Sergeant Barnes that complaints had been lodged,
and that action would be taken against him if he failed to conform to the law.
It was after this, while he was preparing to repeat the offense, that Detective Sergeant Barnes arrested him.
This would have been his 44th offense.
Yes, my lord, but it was never carried out.
Because he was arrested. —Yes, my lord.
'Twould be a pity to credit him with the wrong number of offenses.
Are these offenses exactly similar?
They are exactly the same, my lord, except that the victims are different.
Naturally the victims would not be the same.
What method has he been using?
He seems to have been using the same technique fairly consistently, my lord.
He tells his victim a joke, waits for him to laugh, and then strikes him with an iron bar.
Hmm... Is there any previous record?
No, my lord.
He's been in no other kind of trouble at all?
None at all, my lord.
I see.
Yes?
I'd, uh, like to begin by calling Detective Sergeant Barnes to the witness box, my lord.
I swear by almighty God shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Detective Sergeant Barnes, gamma division.
[clears throat]
Sergeant Barnes, you I believe spoke to the accused and his parents shortly before he was arrested.
That is so, yes sir.
Would it be true that you found him to be very communicative and helpful?
He was as communicative as I understand he usually is, yes sir.
... and helpful. —He was quite helpful, yes sir.
Whom did you see first, Sergeant Barnes, the accused or his parents?
I saw the parents to begin with, sir.
What did you say to them?
I put the position to them; I told them that complaints had been received about their son's conduct.
Yes, I'm so sorry to interrupt you, Sergeant Barnes; would you tell the court what in so many words you said on this first occasion.
Yes, I think I can remember what I said, sir.
When I went in the first person I saw was Mr. Groomkirby, so I addressed what I had to say to him.
To the best of my recollection, I said something to the effect, "it's beginning to add up down at the mortuary, Mr. Groomkirby."
Meaning that you were keeping a check of this man's victims.
We were rather pressed for space, my lord.
Yes, I know that Sergeant.
What I'm asking you now is whether your remark, "it's beginning to add up down at the mortuary,"
referred to this man's victims only or to those of other people as well.
It was a kind of joke, m'lord.
I was trying to keep on friendly terms at that stage, and I made the remark in a somewhat humorous manner.
I went on to say, "we haven't got the Albert Hall, Mr. Groomkirby."
So you weren't giving information.
Not what you might call information, no m'lord.
I notice you've still got the cash register out in the hall.
It's better out there.
It's easier to get at if ever he wants a ping in a hurry
You know what Kirby is.
I can't think why you don't bring him up an ordinary bell.
No, he's got attached to that now.
He bought it originally so he could have something to offer in part exchange if ever he wanted a typewriter.
Now we seem to be stuck with it.
That must have been when he was writing his book.
It was... when he was learning how to make the paper.
Then of course it became an egg timer.
Now he uses it for everything practically, every time he wants a ping.
I thought it was only at mealtimes.
Well it was to begin with, and then he read about Pavlov I think his name was.
Pavlov?
He used to ring a bell for his dogs to make their mouths water before they were fed.
Go on...
So of course the next thing we knew, he had to have a ping every time he sat down to a meal.
Now he can't do a thing without it.
Dependent on it like the dogs.
You know he wanted to be one of that man's dogs at one time?
He kept going on about being born too late and into the wrong species.
I think it preyed on him a bit.
Silly to hold it against himself.
That's why I'm hoping his music might take his mind off all that.
I want you to look now at the weighing machines there in front of the witness box, Sergeant Barnes.
Have you seen these machines before or machines like them?
Yes sir, I have.
Where did you see them?
They were upstairs with a good many others, sir, at the house where I interviewed the accused, sir.
These are the ordinary sort of weighing machines that anyone going into an amusement arcade or a chemist's shop might expect to find?
They are a fairly common type, yes sir.
They are, in fact, what are sometimes known as "speak your weight" machines.
Yes sir. He was teaching them to sing, sir.
To do what? —To sing, m'lord.
I thought we were talking about weighing machines.
These are of the type which speak when subjected to weight, m'lord, and can also be trained to sing.
I had these four brought into the court for this reason, m'lord.
There will be no difficulty in arranging for them to sing a short song or part of a song, if your lordship would allow.
How long is this going to take?
It would take a matter of minutes, m'lord.
Yes, I suppose so.
I am very much obliged to your lordship.
[barbershop quartet style] ♫ 'Cause you can't chop your papa up in Massachusetts, Not even if it's planned as a surprise,
♫ No, you can't chop your papa up in Massachusetts, You know how neighbors love to criticize.
♫ One hot day in old Fall River Mr. Andrew Borden died, And they booked his daughter Lizzie on a charge of homicide,
♫ Some folks say she didn't do it, others say of course she did, But they all agree Miss Lizzie B. was quite a problem kid.
[gravelly, deep voice] ♫ But you can't chop your mama up in Massachusetts, Not even if you're tired of her cuisine.
♫ No, you can't chop your mama up in Massachusetts, If you do you know it's bound to be a scene.
Thank you, m'lord.
One final question, Sergeant Barnes...
—Fifteen stone, ten pounds.
Is it true, Sergeant Barnes, that the accused was intending to have these machines shipped to the North Pole?
Yes, sir.
Did he volunteer any information that might explain this action?
Only to say that he wanted them to act as sirens, sir.
Sirens?
To lure people to the North Pole, m'lord.
There was a scientific reason for this, was there not, Sergeant Barnes?
Yes, sir.
Would you enlarge on it for his lordship, Sergeant Barnes?
I fancy he had some notion, m'lord, that once these people were at the North Pole,
if he could get enough of 'em together in one place, he would have very little difficulty in persuading them all to jump at the same moment.
And what inscrutable purpose was this maneuver calculated to serve?
I think he was more concerned with what would happen when they landed again, m'lord.
He hoped it would have the effect of tilting the Earth's axis a little more to one side.
I see...
This would very likely bring about far-reaching climatic changes would it not, Sergeant Barnes?
I think it was something of that kind that he had in mind, yes.
A shifting of the ice cap, for instance. —Yes.
This might well give rise to a new Ice Age as far as these islands are concerned.
In all probability, yes sir.
Would it be true to say, Sergeant Barnes, that he was hoping in this way to provide himself with a self-perpetuating pretext for wearing black?
Yes, sir.
By ensuring that for an indefinite period, deaths through various causes connected with the excessive cold would be many and frequent?
That was at the back of it, yes sir.
Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.
The facts to which I am now going to direct the attention of the members of the jury,
and upon which it will be necessary for you to exercise your judgement in due course,
concern the activities of the accused on a day last Summer.
The whereabouts of the accused, members of the jury, on that vital day when he was allegedly elsewhere
tally in every single particular with the whereabouts of the only other person who, so far as we know,
was on the spot at the time and who is in the court at this moment.
The whereabouts of this person are, therefore, of paramount importance,
and I should like to call him to the witness box now.
Mr. Groomkirby, please.
What? —He refuses to swear on the Bible, m'lord.
Hmm. Is this an objection to swearing per se?
Only to swearing on the unexpurgated Bible, m'lord.
I understand there are certain passages he takes exception to, m'lord, on moral grounds.
Hmm, is he prepared to swear on anything?
I understand he has no objection to swearing on Uncle Tom's Cabin, m'lord.
On what? —Uncle Tom's Cabin, m'lord.
I thought the issue of slavery on the American plantations had been settled by Abraham Lincoln.
I gather he has already been informed of that, m'lord.
Yes, m'lord. —What did he say?
He said, "not in my world, it isn't." Those were his words, m'lord.
Which world is he referring to?
I understand he has one of his own, m'lord.
And why isn't he in it?
He says he was told to come here, m'lord.
Hmm.
It's a genuinely conscientious objection; I suppose I shall have to allow it.
Has he got this work with him in court?
He has a copy, yes m'lord.
Hmm, tell him to bring it to the witness box. —Very good, m'lord.
Hold the book in your right hand.
I swear by Harriet Beecher Stowe that the evidence I give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
You understand, do you, that you are now under oath?
This means that you have undertaken in the sight, in your case, of Harriet Beecher Stowe,
to give honest answers—as honest and truthful as you can make them—in reply to questions which are shortly going to be put to you by learned counsel.
I understand that, my lord.
And you intend therefore to be bound by this undertaking?
No, my lord.
You mean in other words you intend to lie to the court.
That will be so m'lord, yes.
A frank and honest reply.
With respect, m'lord... —Yes?
This is a point for your lordship, but it would be of the greatest possible assistance to my friend and me, m'lord, and possibly to the jury later,
if your lordship would give a ruling on this point of the witness' intended perjury at this stage, m'lord.
The witness says he is lying, but we have every reason to believe, in saying this, he is lying.
And that he is, in fact, telling the truth.
That is the dilemma we are in, m'lord.
Well it's no very great dilemma.
This is clearly a witness of candid integrity on whom it would be perfectly proper to place the utmost reliance.
As your lordship pleases.
[clears throat]
Are you Arthur Rudge Groomkirby?
That's right, sir.
And you live now—have been living since 1949—at 93 Chundragore Street.
Yes, sir. Had it done out back and front three years ago.
Mr. Groomkirby, I want you to cast your mind back a little way to the Summer of last year,
to the 23rd of August.
Do you remember where you were or what you were doing on that day?
Yes sir, I was in, um, Chester-le-Street.
What happened in Chester-le-Street on that day to cause you to remember it so clearly?
I interviewed someone there about a life insurance.
I take it you don't often go so far afield to interview people.
That's why I particularly remember it.
I see...
And this interview, you say, took place in Chester-le-Street on the 23rd of August last year?
Yes sir; it was a Tuesday.
At what time on the Tuesday?
3:15 sir.
At 3:15 on Tuesday, the 23rd of August last year you were in Chester-le-Street interviewing this man about a life insurance policy.
He's already said he was.
It was a woman I interviewed.
How certain are you, Mr. Groomkirby, of the exact time?
There was a clock striking the quarter outside the window when I put my first question.
And what was this first question, Mr. Groomkirby?
I asked her if there was anything she would like to add, sir.
And what was her reply?
It was in the form of a sentence, m'lord.
We know that it must have been in the form of a sentence, but what form did the sentence take?
I made a note of it at the time, m'lord.
She said she had a string of pearls in the form of a necklace but she wore it round her waist for the tightness.
She "wore it round her waist for the tightness."
Doesn't this strike you as being a rather extraordinary remark for her to make?
I didn't take much notice of it at the time, sir.
You didn't think it at all remarkable, but you made a note of it?
I was interviewing her, sir.
Very well.
The time of this interview was 3:15. The clock you told us was striking outside.
Yes sir; I could hear it from where I was standing.
And precisely, at that very moment, when not one but both hands of the clock were at virtually the same point on the dial—
at the figure three—precisely at the moment when the clock was striking the quarter you put your first question.
Yes, sir.
Perhaps you hadn't thought of that as a rather remarkable coincidence, Mr. Groomkirby.
That was what happened, sir.
You see, Mr. Groomkirby, this statement seems to be based upon a whole chain of these—to say the least of it—extraordinary coincidences.
There must have been quite a number of places from which you absented yourself on that rather vital 23rd of August, Mr. Groomkirby,
in order to be in Chester-le-Street.
I dare say that would be so, yes sir.
You were not, for instance, in London? —No, sir.
Or Paris? —No, sir.
Or Rome? —No, sir, I wasn't there, sir.
You were not, I imagine, in Reykjavik either?
I couldn't say for sure where that is, sir.
Yet you absented yourself from it.
Far as I know I did, yes, sir.
And from... Kostroma.
S'pose I must have done.
And Pocatello.
I'm afraid I'm not much good at geography.
"Not much good at geography," Mr. Groomkirby?
Yet you want the court to believe that in order to be present in Chester-le-Street
you absented yourself from a whole host of places
which only an expert geographer could possibly be expected to have heard of.
That's where I thought I was, sir.
Where were you, Mr. Groomkirby, before you came here today?
I was living in a world of my own, sir.
Where, roughly, would this world be in relation to, say, Chester-le-Street?
Oh, quite some way away, sir.
Your presence there, in other words, entailed traveling some distance?
Quite some distance, yes sir.
Do you enjoy traveling, Mr. Groomkirby?
On the contrary, sir.
You mean you actively dislike it?
Actively dislike it, my lord.
You actively dislike traveling, and yet you made this lengthy journey to Chester-le-Street?
I was a masochist at the time, sir!
A what?
A masochist, my lord—a term employed in certain quarters to denote an addiction to pain as a source of pleasure.
You say you were a masochist, Mr. Groomkirby. Are you a masochist now?
No, sir.
When did you cease your masochism?
Oh, a month or two ago, sir.
What made you give it up?
It was taking up too much of my time!
Too much of your time?
And how long had you been a masochist when you suddenly decided
that your time was so valuable that you could no longer spare any of it for your masochism?
Oh, for something like, um, 3 or 4 years, my lord.
And what was it that made you take it up in the first place?
I was at a loose end, sir.
You were at a loose end?
Would you tell the court, Mr. Groomkirby, as clearly as you can in your own words, exactly how loose this end was?
It was... worn right down, sir.
"Worn right down"? Well, that tells us very little. Was it swinging loose? Was it rattling about?
It was practically hanging off, m'lord.
And this is the end you say you were at, this loose end which, to use your own words, was practically hanging off.
I was pretty nearly at it, m'lord.
You told the court a moment ago that you were "at it."
Now you say, "pretty nearly at it." Now which of these assertions is the true one?
It was touch-and-go, sir. —What was?
Whether I fell off, sir! —And what prevented you?
It was either that or take up masochism, my lord!
I see!
The facts are beginning to emerge.
You took up masochism when you began to realize that unless you did so, the end you were at might come away, and you with it.
And you remained loyal to your masochism just so long as it suited you.
My lord, with very great respect... [judge interrupts] —The moment it was no longer useful to you,
you abandoned it without the slightest compunction.
I can find no possible shred of excuse for behavior of this kind.
If I might have your indulgence for a moment, m'lord.
The law would be moribund if it were unable to deal with a case such as this,
and I should be failing in my duty if I allowed a man of the kind you have shown yourself to be to go at large.
The accused will be here at any moment, m'lord.
You will be remanded in custody while arrangements are being made
to have you sent back to the world you have come from and claim to have been living in
where your activities will be of no concern to anyone but yourself.
Well, I think that's more or less everything, Mabel.
Finished, Myra?
Well I haven't touched this asparagrass, but I can do that first thing in the morning.
Oh, don't worry about the asparagus, Myra; I can see to that.
Those great packets of cereal they send us to get through.
Now where did I put your envelope?
Ah, here it is. Now I think you'll find that's all right.
That's for last Friday and tonight.
Last Friday?
When you came to give me a hand with the leftovers.
Oh, good heavens, Mabel, that was only a few bits and pieces. You shouldn't have bothered.
You've no idea what a difference it is just having you coming just once or twice a week.
Oh, but I enjoy it. I enjoy coming here, you know. —Well, I look forward to seeing you next Tuesday.
I would like now to call Mrs. Groomkirby to the witness box.
Mrs. Groomkirby...
Goodbye, Myra. See you again on Tuesday.
Mrs. Groomkirby...
I thought as much.
His lordship is waiting, Mrs. Groomkirby.
Where do I go?
I feel so public. —Hold the book in your right hand.
I swear by almighty God the evidence I give shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
You are Mabel Laurentina Groomkirby.
Yes, sir.
You are the mother of the accused, are you not?
Well yes, I suppose if it's Kirby on trial I must be; I hadn't realized.
Mrs. Groomkirby, your son is a rather ingenious young man.
A lot of people think so, yes sir.
He has a cash register, I believe. —That's right.
What exactly is the function of this cash register, Mrs. Groomkirby?
What does your son use it for?
Well it was an egg timer to begin with, and then gradually he began to rely on it more and more for other things.
When it was an egg timer, would you tell his lordship how it worked?
Well, sir, it was rigged up in the kitchen with the telephone on one side and the gas stove on the other.
He likes to has his eggs done the exact time—just 4 minutes, 10 seconds or he won't eat them; he goes right inside himself.
So he rigged up the cash register.
How did it work, Mrs. Groomkirby?
He'd got a stopwatch, but he wouldn't trust that.
At least he'd trust it for the minutes but not for the seconds.
So he used the cash register instead?
That and the telephone; he had them side-by-side.
What was the exact procedure he adopted, Mrs. Groomkirby?
Well, he'd put his egg in to boil and then stand by with his stopwatch.
Go on, Mrs. Groomkirby...
Well, the moment it said 4 minutes exactly on the stopwatch
he'd simply dial TIM, wait for the pips, ring up no sale on the cash register, and take out his egg.
This was in fact the only sequence of actions that took precisely ten seconds.
That's right; he wouldn't eat them otherwise.
And he worked this out for himself without any assistance whatever from anyone else?
Oh yes, it was entirely his own idea.
And then he began getting dependent on the bell for other things.
Eating, first... Now practically everything he does he has to have the bell rung.
They've as good as told him if ever he were to part with that cash register it would be total paralysis for him.
Yes. Now, it would be true to say, would it not Mrs. Groomkirby, that your son has a liking for black?
He's worn it all his life, sir.
Would you tell his lordship, in your own words, about this attachment to black clothes?
Well, sir, all his baby things were black...
We had a black shawl, and rompers, and even down to his bibs were all black.
And his sheets and pillowcases.
We had everything black for him as soon as he was born.
People used to stop in the street and remark about it. He's never had anything white.
Sometimes when he was in his pram people used to say he looked like a wee undertaker lying there.
You see, we planned before he was born that if we had a white baby we'd dress him in black.
Or her in black if it had been a girl, and if either of them had been black we'd have had everything white so to make the contrast.
But when he came he was white, so we had the black.
Is your husband a colored man, Mrs. Groomkirby?
He's an insurance agent, sir!
Yes, but is he colored?
Well I... No, sir. Not so far as I know.
What I'm trying to get from you, Mrs. Groomkirby, is the simple fact of your husband's racial characteristics.
Does he, for instance, have any Negro blood.
Well he has got one or two bottles up in his room, but he doesn't tell us what's in them.
There's one more thing I'd like to ask you, Mrs. Groomkirby...
Each one of your son's 43 victims was struck on the head with an iron bar after having been told a joke.
Now, would it be true to say, Mrs. Groomkirby, that your son went to considerable trouble over these jokes?
He went to very great trouble, sir.
He sat up all hours thinking at jokes for them.
He wanted to make things as pleasant as possible for them, even at considerable trouble and inconvenience to himself.
He didn't mind how much trouble he went to, so long as they ended on a gay note.
Thank you, Mrs. Groomkirby.
M'lord in asking you to take a lenient view of this case,
I am not underestimating the seriousness of the offenses committed by this young man.
Indeed, indeed they are very grave breaches of the law,
and no one realizes that more now than he, himself.
He has made considerable effort to find other ways of satisfying this, in itself, quite harmless,
indeed laudable desire for logical pretext.
But so far, unfortunately, he has met with very little success.
He's had this scheme involving the weighing machines.
Now, we may think this to have been a somewhat grandiose scheme,
and even that it had very little hope of succeeding,
or even of being universally acceptable, were it possible to adopt it.
The important thing is it was worked out by this astonishingly resourceful and gifted young man
as the result of a determination to avoid, with every means in his power,
any further breach of the law in satisfying this craving for black clothes.
In my respectful submission, m'lord,
this very complex personality we are dealing with
is not, in the ordinary sense of the word, a killer.
He is, on the contrary, a kindly, rather gentle young man,
not given to violence, except in this particular respect,
and showing himself exceptionally considerate of others,
even to the extent of arranging,
at considerable personal sacrifice of time and energy,
for them to die laughing.
I would therefore ask your lordship to pass as light a sentence
as in your lordship's judgement is warranted
in this very exceptional case.
[sighs]
There have been too many crimes of this nature.
People killing a number of victims—43 in your case—
from what appear to be, and indeed often are, in themselves, laudable motives.
Your counsel has made an eloquent plea for you,
and two people have been willing to come into the witness box
one of them the detective who arrested you,
and give a favorable account of you.
But from your 43 victims...
not a word.
Not one of those 43 has felt under any obligation to come forward and speak for you,
notwithstanding the great trouble we are told you went to
in furnishing them with laughing matter.
And what about the iron bar you used?
Was this also chosen and wielded with the well-being of your victims in mind?
I think not.
Your mother has said that you wear black.
This is not surprising. Such a taste seems to me to be in perfect conformity with the career you have chosen to embark upon.
I'm going out now, Arthur. —I am not greatly influenced by the reasons
that have been put forward for your having this apparently irresistible craving.
They seem to me to have very little bearing on the matter. —You might notice what time Sylvia gets in.
It is becoming more and more an accepted feature of cases of this kind
that in the course of them the court is subjected to a farrago of psychological poppycock
in which every imaginable ailment in the nursery
is prayed in aid.
As for your desire to find a logical pretext,
now this is the one redeeming feature I have been able to find in this case.
But you could have come by a pretext in any one of a number of quite legitimate ways.
I have no doubt at all that at least a score of undertakers could have been found
whose advice and assistance could have been had for the asking.
But instead,
you chose another way,
a way which has led you straight to this court.
Might be something to eat in the kitchen.
In deciding upon the sentence I shall impose in this case,
I have been influenced by one consideration.
It is this: that in sentencing a man to death for one crime,
we may well be putting him beyond the reach of the law in respect of those crimes which he has not yet had an opportunity to commit.
The law, however, is not to be cheated in this way.
I shall therefore discharge you.
♫ Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!
The court will rise...
♫ [Hallelujah chorus continues]
And that, members of the jury, is the evidence before you.
What weight you shall give to it is a matter entirely for you.
Has he been there all the time? —I don't know.
Does it matter?
You will telephone me tomorrow, won't you?
[unintelligible]
♫ And we shall reign for ever and ever...
I don't know why they don't all go and stand outside Buckingham Palace,
or the Taj Mahal or something,
and gawk at that instead.
You have to go, Stan; it's past midnight.
Open the door for me, then.
You can't reach, can you?
No.
One more kiss...
Tomorrow? —Tomorrow.
To outer space by moonlight...
On roller skates...
♫ And we shall reign for ever and ever...
♫ King of kings, for ever and ever...
♫ And lord of lords, Hallelujah, Hallelujah...
♫ And we shall reign for ever and ever...
♫ King of kings, and lord of lords...
♫ And we shall reign for ever and ever...
♫ For ever, and ever, Hallelujah, Hallelujah...
♫ Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah...
♫ Ha-le-lu-jah!
♫ [reprise] Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah!