Law and Disorder

by Tim Kevan

  ‘Well, being at court often focuses people’s minds on the potential weaknesses in their own cases, I guess. Let’s see what they come back with.’ We both then looked over at my opponent on the other side of the room, who was having a heated discussion with his own client, who looked very unhappy. At one point the client stormed off in a rage only for my opponent to follow him and continue the conversation. Eventually, I saw the client nodding reluctantly and then my opponent came over and asked if he could have a word with me. ‘Been a bit of a difficult one as you can imagine but I’ve eventually brought him around. Told him that he could be going home with nothing and a horrendous costs order against him personally if he wasn’t careful.’

  Which just wasn’t true, but, hey, not my business.

  ‘So, I eventually convinced him of the merits of the judge’s suggestion. I think we can settle on fifty-fifty.’

  Now this was an absolute gift for my client and I really should have grabbed the offer immediately. However, I felt that his desire to play golf might squeeze just a little bit more.

  ‘Look, I know you’ve got the stronger case but my client’s here after four years of worry and he’s ready to have his day in court. I’ve talked to him about settlement but the most that he’ll come down to is sixty-forty in his favour.’

  ‘BabyBarista, are you mad?’ He appeared quite angry at my response, no doubt due to the fact that he could see his golf game receding into the distance.

  ‘Sorry. Sixty-forty or we have a day in front of the judge.’

  He looked at me for a while, weighing up whether I was bluffing or not. I suddenly realised that after weeks of refining my staring skills with Claire, this was my moment for putting them to work. After I’d said my bit, I looked him straight in the eye and held my gaze . . . and held it still. Not a blink to be seen, although my eyes were starting to water. Eventually he cracked and blinked first. ‘I’ll take instructions,’ he said and went back to his client.

  Ten minutes later and a sixty-forty settlement was ours and my opponent whisked us back in front of the judge.

  ‘Excellent, gentlemen. What an eminently sensible course of action, if I may say so.’ He then took a look at his watch. ‘And conveniently enough, should be just enough time to make the first tee after lunch.’

  It was only at that point that I suddenly took in the various memorabilia which were spread around his room. Not for him the pictures of old judges. Instead, it was old cartoons of golfers and the odd photo and trophy. Suddenly it all became clear.

  CHAPTER 8

  May: FakeClaim

  Spies cannot be usefully employed without a certain intuitive sagacity.

  Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Tuesday 1 May 2007

  Day 147 (week 31): Fatal flaws

  TopFirst tried to play it cool with Ginny last week by only emailing every other day. This week he’s become a little more needy and I’ve had to put him in his place in the replies I’ve been writing in her name. I’ve told him she’ll be back in London in a few weeks and that in the meantime she has her head down studying for her exams. This is all driving TopFirst mad as he wants to see her again as soon as possible. In itself this is good as it’s distracting him from pupillage. It’s just that I don’t want to push it too far as it may end up backfiring. For example, he threatened to come and visit Ginny in Durham the other day. Obviously I scotched that thought pretty fast, but nevertheless . . .

  In the meantime, ThirdSix seems to be going from strength to strength. I even overheard UpTights singing his praises the other day. My own pupilmistress. Bit too close to home there. I still have no idea how I’m going to do anything about it either. He has no obvious character flaws that I can exploit. Worrier’s insecurity was clear even to TheBoss. As for BusyBody, it was easy to get people to believe that she’d been an over-exuberant, well, busybody. Even TopFirst has two chinks in his armour: vanity and women. But as for ThirdSix, he’s almost too perfect a pupil to be real. The only thing I can think of so far is that he knows it. Over-confidence.

  How I use even this limited insight for the moment escapes me.

  Wednesday 2 May 2007

  Day 148 (week 31): Bovvered

  I was against TheCreep today who decided that he’d have a go at bullying me into submission before we even got into court. He didn’t just badger me or go on a little bit. He positively harangued me about the strength of my case throughout the whole journey to Ipswich, which proved to be a long one. ‘Your case is obviously hopeless. Can’t even understand why your instructing solicitor has brought it.’

  Eventually I decided to go for a Busker-type response. Except it didn’t quite come out right. ‘Er . . .’ I paused, trying to think of what TheBusker might say. It didn’t come and all that eventually escaped from my lips was a very unbecoming, ‘. . . bovvered,’ . . . which was more Catherine Tate than TheBusker. But it had the unintended merit of getting up TheCreep’s nose.

  ‘If that’s all you can say you’re obviously no better than your instructing solicitor. Haven’t you even read our witness statement?’

  Well, when a strategy appears to be working, why change course?

  ‘Bovvered.’ I was starting to enjoy myself.

  ‘Can you even explain why you didn’t accept our offer? Seems ridiculous that we’re here. I have far more important matters to be getting on with.’

  Oh, I was waiting for that. The self-important excuse for being seen in the small claims court. Yeah, right. I took a deep breath. I was beginning to get into my stride. ‘Er . . .’ I paused for dramatic effect, ‘. . . bovvered.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re best representing your client’s interests?’

  Eventually I put it to him straight:

  ‘Liability. Quantum. Generals. Specials. Interest . . .’ I paused for more dramatic effect. ‘Bovvered.’

  He flushed with anger. ‘If that’s what you think.’ He stuttered as he tried to decide what to say. ‘If that’s how seriously you take your cases . . .’

  We travelled the rest of the way in silence after I interrupted with a final, ‘Bovvered.’ The nice thing was that his anger only served to irritate the judge. Which I have to admit got me going once more and when the judge wasn’t looking I held up a piece of paper to

  TheCreep upon which was written a single word . . .

  You guessed it once again.

  In case you’re wondering, he lost.

  Back in chambers and there were even more high jinks. FanciesHimself had put together a plan. Earlier, whilst ThirdSix was out of his room, he’d snuck in, taken his mobile which was lying on his desk and dialled the direct number for the room where chambers tea is held. He then replaced the phone, making sure it was unlocked, onto the desk. The hope was that he would pocket it before going off for his little tête-à-tête, as you might say, with BusyBody. ThirdSix disappeared from his room just before 4.30 p.m., the same time that everyone else was going to chambers tea. FanciesHimself tipped me off with a quick phone call and I dashed along to tea to see exactly what would happen. However, nothing prepared me for what then followed.

  ‘Good day in court?’ HeadofChambers asked OldSmoothie.

  ‘Not bad, yes. We were in . . .’

  He was interrupted by the phone ringing.

  ‘Who on earth can that be?’ said HeadofChambers irritably. ‘Must be the clerks.’ He pressed the answer button and the loudspeaker of the phone sprung into action. Everybody turned in surprise as they heard rustling noises and then giggling at full volume.

  ‘What on earth is that,’ said HeadofChambers.

  ‘Shh,’ said OldSmoothie.

  The whole room craned to hear as best they could as BusyBody’s voice suddenly came through on the little loudspeaker.

  ‘You’re a very very naughty pupil, ThirdSix. Very naughty indeed.’

  ‘Yes, My Lady. I apologise unreservedly, My Lady.’ It was ThirdSix providing the answers in this little game.

  ‘Now I’ve been l
ooking over your application this afternoon and have to admit that I find many of its features to be extremely attractive. But I’m afraid I shall still need a little more convincing before I decide to grant your request for relief.’

  ‘My Lady I stand here erect before the court of the great storeroom and lay my case out in all its naked glory . . .’

  OldSmoothie’s jaw was the first to drop as it dawned on the whole room what was actually going on. ‘The storeroom? Of all the places. The cheek of it.’

  BusyBody had obviously shared its charms with him as well as with FanciesHimself. Eventually and almost reluctantly, HeadofChambers interrupted the broadcast and switched it off, saying, ‘I really don’t think we should be listening to this.’

  There was a general answer of ‘No’ by which everyone meant, ‘Well actually we’re still being highly amused by it but we wouldn’t want to admit it.’ HeadofChambers then telephoned down to HeadClerk and said, ‘Please could you ask one of the clerks to go and interrupt BusyBody and ThirdSix from their . . . er . . . proceedings, in the top floor storeroom.’

  As we left chambers tea, we passed the two of them being led downstairs by FanciesHimself in the direction of HeadofChambers’s room.

  Friday 4 May 2007

  Day 150 (week 31): Pigs might fly

  ‘You know, BabyB, it’s never easy doing pupillage and I know that sometimes I can be difficult. That’s why I thought we’d have lunch and get to know each other a little better.’

  This was yesterday and UpTights was for once in a good mood, having just settled a case which was due to start on Monday and in the process gained a brief fee of over £30,000 and a week off. She’d spent the previous week getting more and more stressed, and though she’s not usually a settler, the relief was evident yesterday morning as she packed up the twenty lever arch files to send back to her solicitors.

  Before we went off for lunch, I bumped into OldSmoothie in the clerks’ room and when I told him what I was up to he responded with, ‘I’d treasure that one, BabyB. Kind gestures from the wicked witch are as rare as rocking horse . . .’ he paused, and then realising he had an audience who might be offended by his swearing, he smiled and added slowly, ‘manure’. Then, just as he’d said this, UpTights herself came around the corner smiling and offering greetings to each of the assembled barristers and clerks.

  ‘There’s a Gloucester Old Spot at ten thousand feet,’ said OldSmoothie.

  ‘Life is grand, OldSmoothie, wouldn’t you agree?’ said UpTights, ignoring his dig.

  As I left, trailing behind in her wake, I overheard HeadClerk whispering ‘UpTights in a good mood. Pigs have indeed flown, OldSmoothie.’

  ‘Obviously just upped her dose,’ replied OldSmoothie.

  So there we were, eating lunch in a posh restaurant at 12 noon. But more than that. She was ordering a bottle of champagne.

  ‘Well, BabyB. We all have to let our hair down sometimes.’

  Thoroughly confused as I was, I was certainly not averse to being wined and dined on a Friday afternoon . . . and into the early evening. I started off promising myself that I wouldn’t have more than two glasses. But what was I meant to do when UpTights (of all people) was saying, ‘Oh, come on, BabyB. Don’t be such a prude.’ In which case, you betcha. I’ll have another. And another. So long as it’s one fewer than the (usually) teetotal facelift opposite.

  All of which meant that I stumbled upon all sorts of chambers gossip, though the problem is that I’m struggling to remember much of what she said. ‘Well, of course, everybody knew about OldSmoothie and TheVamp after they were caught in flagrante, so to speak, in the Temple Gardens after some big dinner or other. Can’t have been a pretty sight for the poor porter to stumble upon . . . Don’t believe everything you might hear about HeadofChambers and me. Despite the fact it only lasted about a month during my pupillage, I’ve never heard the end of it since. You can never be too careful, BabyB.’

  After she came out with this particular gem I was suddenly concerned that there may even have been a glint in her eye, although I chose to ignore it if there was. I have to say though, that despite her many neuroses and bouts of hysteria, she can at times be extremely charming. The difficulty is trying to predict precisely what person she’s going to be on that particular day. The only thing I’ve managed to work out so far is that the best signs of her madness coming on are an increase in make-up and added bouffant to the hair.

  I managed to garner some interesting information about TopFirst, thanks to UpTights’s drunken indiscretion . . . ‘You know, BabyB, that TopFirst’s dad was a founder member of this chambers? We never realised until TopFirst had already arrived, despite the fact they share the same surname. Left in disgrace, you see, after he stole a judge’s wife. Everyone’s having to be terribly careful not to hold all this against him.’

  Yeah, and the fact that he’s arrogant and smug and already strolls around chambers as though he owns it. I nodded politely. Not really sure whether this will ultimately count for or against him, or if there is any other way I may use it.

  But there’s no doubt that it’s always better to be one step ahead.

  Tuesday 8 May 2007

  Day 151 (week 32): Get-out-of-jail-free card

  Followed UpTights to a client conference today. It all concerned a car accident in which our man drove into an old lady on a zebra crossing. The client’s concerned as he’s being prosecuted for dangerous driving and risks losing his licence. The insurer is even more concerned about the civil claim which might follow. The client’s come up with the ingenious wheeze of getting himself off by saying that he blacked out at the wheel. I don’t think any of us believed him, particularly after he mentioned that ‘a friend of a friend got off in the same way’ and chuckled that he was playing his ‘get-out-of-jail-free card’. Not that this seemed to bother UpTights, who simply said, ‘Well, if that’s what you say happened then we ought to raise the defence of automatism.’

  The insurer went further and suggested that we instruct his ‘tame neurologist’ who apparently ‘always backs up an automatism claim’. UpTights turned a blind eye whilst her instructing solicitor nodded his assent, keen to ensure the old lady wouldn’t receive a penny.

  After the conference I asked UpTights if she had believed the client.

  ‘Not for me to say, BabyB. That’s the judge’s job.’

  ‘But what if it’s completely obvious?’

  ‘Come on, BabyB. You should know this by now. If we only represented clients we thought were telling the truth we wouldn’t be working.’ ‘But aren’t you misleading the court?’ ‘Not unless he actually tells me he’s lying.’ ‘But he’d never do that.’ ‘There you are, BabyB. You’re starting to get it.’ I also had a chat with TheBoss’s old solicitor SlipperySlope today. I’ve been given five cases by him in my first month on my feet and I told him how much I appreciated the work. He replied with, ‘BabyB, it’s my pleasure. Always happy to put bread on the table of the junior Bar.’ Then, without even skipping a beat, he continued, ‘Of course, I’m even happier when I can chat over those cases at Stamford Bridge?’

  Well, what can you say? It didn’t even qualify as a hint. More a blatant request for Chelsea tickets in return for regular work. Now, I’ve checked this before with the Bar Standards Board guidance and it seems that the best way of deciding if behaviour is appropriate or not is what they call the ‘blush test’. If it’s something that would make you blush then it’s probably inappropriate. Since I am conveniently blushing at very little these days, I ordered the tickets. Speaking of blushes, Worrier filled me in on BusyBody’s progress proceedings for them and it’s apparently given ThirdSix pupillage paranoia. Says they can’t carry on.’ ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘BusyBody’s been confiding.’ She looked guilty and continued, ‘I know I shouldn’t even be telling you, but after all we’ve gone through already and, well, I just have to share it with someone.’

  ‘I understand.’

 
; ‘She thinks OldSmoothie set them up with the telephone thing. Apparently HeadofChambers thinks so too and that’s why he’s not holding an investigation as to who might have done it.’

  Of course. All makes sense.

  Thursday 10 May 2007

  Day 153 (week 32): AmbulanceChaserLtd

  I’ve been doing some online research into the accident management company which works with FakeClaims&Co. Let’s call them AmbulanceChaserLtd, as I found out that much of their work comes from hanging around accident-and-emergency departments at various London hospitals. I visited one last night with Claire once again playing camerawoman. I went in complaining of a stiff neck from having tripped over a hole in a pavement. After waiting a couple of hours I was finally seen by a doctor who prescribed me some painkillers and gave me a neck collar to wear. Sure enough, as I emerged from A&E I was approached in the car park by a man wearing a suit and tie. His swagger was a confident one, with kind of a cheap-salesman feel to it, but his look was something a little more dodgy, almost seedy. When he opened his mouth he sounded like an estate agent. Respectable patter, clearly scripted. When he asked me if I’d had an accident, I told him about the paving stone and he then made his pitch.

  ‘You can definitely get compensation for that.’

  ‘Oh really?’

  ‘Easy.’

  ‘And how much would I get?’

  ‘Probably about £1,500 for your injury and a couple of weeks’ loss of earnings.’

  ‘But I haven’t lost any earnings.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that. We do all the documentation.’

  ‘And how much will it cost me?’

  ‘Absolutely nothing. Totally guaranteed.’

  I gave him my (false) details along with a number for a pay-as­you-go mobile that I bought over the weekend. Today I got a call and booked myself in to go and see them next week.

  Monday 14 May 2007

  Day 155 (week 33): Attention deficit disorder

  ‘We’re in front of Bart today?’ It was my opponent. ‘You mean the judge who plays online bridge . . .’