Shadows of the Workhouse

was brought up with the rhyming slang. Mr Crumb has testified that he saw Sister Monica Joan take a couple of handkerchiefs – bread and cheese is the usual expression for handkerchiefs – off his sparrow, or barrow, and set off round the Jack Horner – corner, My Lord – down the frog and toad – meaning road – as quick as – I need not go on, my Lord, a harmless vulgarity implying no disrespect to Your Lordship – quick, stick – the rhyme is obvious my Lord.”
    “‘I am beginning to understand. Ingenious, very. But what was all that about Adam and Eve? We are not talking about the Garden of Eden, you know.”
    “‘To Adam and Eve it’ is a very common expression my Lord. It means ‘to believe it’, or the negative. Mr Crumb could not Adam and Eve the evidence of his own eyes.”
    “You are very knowledgeable, usher, and I am indebted to you. But that was not all the evidence Mr Crumb gave the court, and it has to be written down for the record.”
    The usher was standing up stiff and straight and feeling very important. All eyes were upon him. “Mr Crumb said that he told his wife what had happened. There are several expressions for wife – carving knife, trouble and strife, Duchess of Fife spring readily to mind – and she called him a liar – holy friar, My Lord, and said she would hit him in the north and south – mouth – if he called Sister Monica Joan a thief – tea-leaf was the rhyming slang used by Mr Crumb.”
    “I understand now. Thank you, usher.” The judge turned towards Cakey. “Would you say that that interpretation is substantially correct, Mr Crumb?”
    “Oh yerst, yers. That’s Isle of White.”
    “I suppose I am correct in understanding that it is . . . right?”
    The judge looked pleased with himself and smiled at Cakey. He motioned for the Counsel for the Prosecution to continue.
    “When did this all occur?”
    “Abaht a year ago, I reckons.”
    “And you never told no one – ahem, I mean, anyone?”
    “Nah, nah. I’m no’ daft. There’d ’ave bin a righ’ ’ole bull and cow if I ’ad. I don’t want me jackdaw broke, do I?”
    The judge sighed and looked towards the usher.
    “Mr Crumb did not tell anyone, My Lord, because he was anxious to avert a row with his wife, whom he felt was capable of breaking his jaw.”
    “Is this correct, Mr Crumb?”
    “Gor, not ’alf, an’ all. Got an Oliver Twist like a piston, she ’as. Knock yer ’ampstead ’eafs out soon as look at yer, she would.”
    “Mr Crumb, I was referring to the accuracy of the usher’s translation, not to your wife’s skill as a pugilist.”
    “Oh, I see. Well yers, ’e’s got ve lingo taped an’ all.”
    “Thank you, Mr Crumb. Usher, I should be grateful if you would attend closely to what the witness says and interpret for me, should it be necessary.”
    “Certainly, My Lord.”
    Counsel for the Prosecution continued. “Having said nothing for a year, why have you come forward now?”
    “Because I earwigged some of me mates ’ad seen ve same sort of fing; vis ole blackbird goin’ round ve markets, lookin’ all ’oly like, bu’ pinchin’ fings off stalls and then scarperin’. So we goes to ve grasshoppers, an vey took it to ve garden gate.”
    “I understand your evidence as far as the grasshoppers, Mr Crumb,” the judge interrupted. “Usher, perhaps you could enlighten me as to the meaning of the last sentence?”
    “Grasshopper, My Lord, is rhyming slang for copper, which Your Lordship may know is a colloquialism for the police. And the police referred the case to the magistrate – the garden gate.”
    “I understand.” The Judge turned to Mr Crumb. “If the police are grasshoppers and magistrates are garden gates, what, may I enquire, is a judge?” he asked politely.
    “Barnaby Rudge, m’lud.”
    “Hmm. Not too bad. Could have been worse, I suppose. We might have gone down in local terminology as a pile of sludge, or something equally unsavoury. All things considered, I think we have been let off quite lightly. Counsel, do you have any further questions?”
    “No, My Lord.”
    Cakey Crumb stepped down from the witness box, and a costerwoman took his place. She stated that she had seen Sister Monica Joan take three skeins of embroidery silk from her stall and hide them under her scapular. She continued: “I didn’t do nuffink abaht it because ve Sisters are well respected arahnd vese parts, an’ in fact saved my life when I was younger. The silks