Law and Peace

by Tim Kevan

  Yours sincerely,

  James Bowling-Hunt,

  Associate Editor, Who’s Who

  It’s a long shot but it has the one advantage of playing to two of TopFirst’s main weaknesses: arrogance and vanity. If he falls for it, the credit card details would have the potential to cause no end of damage online.

  Wednesday 6 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 19): Escalation

  Whilst OldSmoothie was given no say over the choice of test cases, Slippery was telling me today that he’s allowed him to choose another junior barrister to add to the mix. As he explained it to me, ‘Don’t worry, BabyB, it won’t water down your own fees. On the contrary, the more people we have involved, the bigger and more important the case looks and the better the argument we’ll have for all our fees being increased.’

  I wasn’t in the slightest concerned about that, although I do have to admit to hoping that he wouldn’t choose TheCreep who, with all his earnest wranglings, has a rare ability to suck the humour out of any situation.

  ‘It won’t happen, BabyB. Whilst I’ve technically given him a choice, it was strictly on the condition that he chose TheVamp for whom I’ve always had a soft spot.’

  I’m sure you have, you dirty old man, but for my part I was delighted to hear that nevertheless. Then he added, ‘I mean, with most judges still being hoary old men it makes complete sense to have TheVamp sitting pretty? Kind of trumps UpTights, wouldn’t you say?’

  Not quite what they train you for at Bar School but then it’s dirty dog eat dirty dog out there, and if Slippery wants to spend his days at court drooling over TheVamp then that’s up to him. Apparently he’s already told her but until he decides to announce it officially, OldSmoothie can prance around chambers waving a golden ticket in front of unsuspecting juniors who might be interested.

  Meanwhile, we were officially informed today that UpTights has brought BusyBody into the case to assist her and TopFirst.

  Oh, and TopFirst replied back to my fake email pretty much immediately with credit card details and all. Of course he did. Arrogance and vanity. My twin allies in this particular little battle. At least it’s a start in my search for some sort of insurance policy against his plots.

  Thursday 7 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 19): OldSmoothie’s number two

  No sooner had word got out about the place on the team ostensibly being available than TheCreep was round first to OldSmoothie’s room, then to mine and then back to his main target. ‘Ooh, OldSmoothie, you’re so funny. Ooh, OldSmoothie, you’re so clever.’ He even offered to make me a coffee for the first time ever. Must feel quite a comedown to have to be creeping up to people even more junior than him. Though I think the whole point is that he’s either got the brassiest of brass necks ever or more likely he has such a complete lack of insight that he simply doesn’t see what everyone else sees: that, as OldSmoothie so politely put it, ‘he’s an irritating and servile little cretin who when things don’t go his way is also a sulky, spoilt little mummy’s boy’. Not a great combination at the best of times and today I was finding him even more annoying than usual. Yet despite his professed views on TheCreep, OldSmoothie has never been one to turn down a bit of praise, however false its origin. Nor indeed did he turn down the lunch that TheCreep insisted on buying him. In return OldSmoothie rather cruelly, even for him, left TheCreep with the false impression that he would pick him as his junior with a deliberately misleading choice of words.

  True to form, within about five minutes TheCreep had run around the whole of chambers like an excited child letting anyone he could find know. No more hot drinks being made for me since he, according to his own legend, was now ‘Second in command of the Moldy ship’ (ouch). When he did eventually pay me a visit, the nearest he got to talking about coffee was when he said at one point, ‘I knew he’d pick me, BabyB. Cream always rises to the top.’ (Ouch again.)

  By chambers tea, he still couldn’t contain himself and was blabbing away to everyone about it. TheVamp couldn’t help having a bit of fun and said, ‘I hear you bought OldSmoothie lunch today.’

  ‘Er, that’s right,’ said TheCreep, looking a little shifty.

  ‘Doesn’t that breach the Code of Conduct? Making a gift for the purpose of soliciting work.’

  TheCreep went a deep shade of red and stammered disingenuously, ‘There was only one reason I bought lunch for OldSmoothie and that was due to the high regard I hold him in professionally.’

  TheVamp came back with, ‘Well, the acid test for these things is apparently the blush test. Would the gesture make the person blush? You and your little rosy cheeks just gave the game away MrCrushyBlushy.’

  Before TheCreep could dig his hole any deeper, The Busker then said, ‘I’ve always felt that the blush test was slightly unfair and weighted against those with, er,’ he looked at The Creep and continued, ‘a more nervous disposition. I mean, on that test, it’s a carte blanche to TheVamp since she’s never blushed at anything.’

  TheVamp smiled at TheBusker taking it in the spirit in which it was intended. Then she turned to TheCreep and asked him, ‘So what exactly did OldSmoothie say anyway?’

  ‘He told me that I’d make a perfect little number two.’

  His back straightened as he said it, as if somehow standing to attention just at the thought. There was a short silence as people tried to suppress laughter, some of them even looking a little awkward. Eventually, TheVamp couldn’t resist and replied, ‘His little number two. How very appropriate. Like acting as his right hand then?’

  TheCreep was still struggling to get his head around the possibility that his status wasn’t quite as elevated as he’d imagined and answered only with, ‘Er . . .’

  Which left him open to her parting shot of, ‘If you’ll all excuse me but I must dash for a number one.’

  Friday 8 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 19): Selling short

  Had a call from ScandalMonger today.

  ‘Hey, BabyB. Just thought I’d ring and tell you that Slippery and I have bought a few positions in relation to the telecom shares.’

  ‘What do you mean, “positions”?’ I asked, slightly confused.

  ‘Sold short, that’s what.’

  ‘Oh, well that’s much clearer now. Thanks for that. Have you bought some shares?’ I asked, trying to clarify what on earth he was going on about.

  ‘Not exactly. We just borrow them from the broker.’

  ‘That’s nice of him. So did he have to buy the shares?’

  ‘Er, well, no, actually. He just borrowed them from someone else.’

  Which all started to remind me of TheBusker’s defence to a theft case where he argued it wasn’t exactly stealing but instead, merely gleaning. But, hey, what do I know?

  ‘BabyB, BabyB, you need to be a bit more financially savvy, the business you’re in. To put it more simply, what we’ve done is made bets on the share price falling.’

  Now that I could understand. Then he added, ‘Oh, and we didn’t want to leave you out of the profits that we’re going to make, so we also bought a few just for you. Special like. Call it a gift. You just keep on doing your job and we’ll all be in clover.’

  Oh, how generous they are. At every turn they’re splicing me further into little pieces. One compromise followed by another until it’s impossible to back out. First there was having ScandalMonger on board in exchange for my mother’s house. Now the shares. Here I am stuck between another rock and another hard place. To dob them in now would mean admitting complicity up to this point and also causing my mother to be evicted from her home. But not to do so will mean that I’ve stood by with full knowledge of what they’re up to. I feel like the apocryphal frog who thinks that the cool water in the cooking pot is safe and when the temperature is slowly raised bit by bit, he only realises quite what sort of trouble he’s in when the water’s boiling and it’s too late to do anything about it.

  Monday 11 February 2008

  Year 2 (wee
k 20): Blagger

  So today I did someone a favour. He’s a good friend of mine from Oxford who I’ll call Blagger. He’s a banker who can never stop making bets even when he’s not at work. This has often landed him in trouble and today was no exception. It all started when I took Blagger and some other friends to dinner in the Inner Temple Hall a few weeks ago. After I’d explained the rules about barristers needing to eat dinners to qualify, Blagger said, ‘If it all comes down to eating dinners, then I’d make a fine barrister indeed.’

  Someone then jokingly challenged him that he’d never get away with impersonating a barrister, kind of Catch Me If You Can style. But this is not something that you should do with Blagger. Make challenges you don’t mean, that is, and Blagger immediately raised the stakes into a bet. Even though I knew better, I actually thought nothing of it until last night when Blagger rang me in a little bit of a panic. ‘BabyB, I think I might be in trouble.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, I’ve only gone and convinced a solicitor girl I met in a bar that I’m not only a qualified barrister but a whiz at property law at that. Anyway, I need your help.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And your wig and gown.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Listen, BabyB. I’ll owe you one big time. But if I pull out now I’ll be in so much trouble that I’ve really got to go through with this just to avoid being caught.’

  Tell me about it. I know that feeling. But I simply replied, ‘Oh.’

  So I agreed to meet with him at 8 a.m. at court and to go through the case before the client arrived. Thankfully for both of us, it was a simple possession hearing and he had very little to do other than to stand up and read out a script that I had written for him, hand in a few documents and ‘Yes, Your Honour’, ‘No, Your Honour’ at the right time. I went along as his er, ‘pupil’, poked him in the back when it was time to stand up and had a cough for ‘yes’ and a sneeze for ‘no’. Predictably he started getting the coughs and sneezes mixed up for a few of his answers until the impatience of the judge and the pokes in the back from me alerted him to his mistake.

  Eventually he emerged from the court victorious and in a great state of jubilation. ‘BabyB, I think I could get a liking for this court thing. Feels good.’

  Great, I’ve created a monster. But worse was to come when he rang his solicitor with the result and returned to report that she was so pleased she has promised to send him more cases. Not a good thought. But in the meantime, I have asked for Blagger’s help in looking a little more closely at this whole ‘selling short’ business.

  Tuesday 12 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 20): MockingBird

  I was against one of Claire’s good friends today. She’s in the same chambers as Claire and there is only one name that springs to mind for her and that is MockingBird. You see she’s as brassy a Northerner as you’re ever likely to meet and calls all men ‘lads’ and ladies ‘birds’. She makes a point of only drinking pints of beer and is a dab hand at darts by her own account. I guess in the nineties she might have been labelled a ladette but actually she’s far too sophisticated for that. More like a walking, talking, ironic satire of a ladette. An upmarket Prada-inspired Bet Lynch, whose loyalty is such that she would fight to the death for her friends. One thing’s for sure, and it was clear today, you wouldn’t want to mess with her or, for that matter, her mates.

  ‘You’re a complete fool, BabyB.’

  She was straight to the point and we both knew what she was talking about. ‘You could scour the earth for a thousand years and you’d never meet a better, or, for that matter, more beautiful woman than Claire and you know what, for some crazy reason she seems to like you.’

  I didn’t know what to say to her as I was completely thrown. My heart felt as though it was beating right in my stomach.

  ‘If the world made any sense at all, our Claire would have been snapped up by a tall, dark handsome stranger and whisked away to somewhere more glamorous than life as we know it at the Bar. But we both know there are all sorts of little creases in the logic of the universe and this appears to be one of them. You’re a complete and utter, one hundred per cent certifiable muppet, BabyB. You’re what Jim Henson would have created if he’d ever turned his hand to this ridiculous profession of ours.’

  At which she became distracted and said, ‘Now there’s a thought.’

  Thankfully she gave up on me after that but when I arrived back from court, just to exacerbate the situation, I got an email from TopFlirt. She hasn’t been in touch since our little get-together a few weeks ago and for my part I’ve felt completely indecisive as to what to do and in the end inertia won the day. Inertia and the fact that I can’t help thinking about what Claire would think of it, something which is even more on my mind after MockingBird’s little speech. Anyway, she’s thrown the ball back into my court by suggesting we meet on Thursday evening. It’s all very mysterious and without any further explanation whatsoever. Needless to say I’m going to go along but I’m back to worrying that it might be some sort of trap. Though after what happened between us, I find that extremely unlikely.

  Wednesday 13 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 20): I’m appalled . . .

  Following on from BusyBody’s and UpTights’s banter about OldSmoothie ‘emerging’ a few weeks ago, BusyBody was telling me this morning what it has prompted. ‘Well, if he wants to emerge, I thought I’d give him a bit of a shove in the right direction. Raise his profile a little.’

  ‘I shudder to think where this one’s going.’

  ‘Oh, you mock, BabyB, but all he needs is just a little leg up.’

  ‘As opposed to over,’ I said and then immediately regretted it given BusyBody’s particular history with OldSmoothie.

  She ignored the comment and continued, ‘Anyway, what with all these late nights and early mornings with the baby, I’ve been spending a bit more time online and thought I’d try and increase his Google profile. You know, get a few more references to his name out on to the world wide web.’

  ‘And how precisely have you done that?’ I asked.

  ‘Just leaving comments here and there. On some of the bigger news and comment websites. National newspapers, TV channels, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh, and how many of these have you done so far?’

  ‘Hmm, only a few hundred, I guess. It’s a start, at least. Sets him off in the right direction.’

  ‘And what do they say, exactly?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy. I chatted it through with UpTights and we agreed that we want to create just the right profile to allow him to “emerge” as he likes to put it. So each comment starts with “I’m appalled” and then ends with “What I say is bring back hanging!” As for the content, well . . . you can imagine.’

  I certainly can and I’m wondering what OldSmoothie’s reaction will be when he discovers an array of bigoted comments all made out in his name surfacing on the internet.

  Thursday 14 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 20): Silk purses and sows’ ears

  There was much chat around chambers today after the list of appointments to Queen’s Counsel was announced. Apparently this is the second year in a row that UpTights has applied for silk and sadly for her, the second time that she has been rejected. OldSmoothie immediately got the knife in with the following email which he also copied to the rest of chambers:

  Dear UpTights,

  May I be the first to offer you my sincere condolences on your being rejected as a QC for the second time running. Whilst I’m sure that at your age rejection is something you have learnt to manage, I realise it must still come as somewhat of a blow to have it confirmed at such a high level. I hope very much that you will at least take comfort in the words of the official press release which says: ‘If you have not been appointed that does not mean you are not a valued and perfectly competent advocate.’

  Yours affectionately,

  OldSmoothie

  All of which wou
ld have been just mildly offensive on the OldSmoothie scale, were it not for the fact that the subject line of his email was labelled ‘Silk purses and sows’ ears’.

  This was just too much for BusyBody who accosted him at chambers tea. ‘You’re a smug, fat, slimey and misogynistic dinosaur, OldSmoothie, who wouldn’t even make it as a junior barrister these days and under the new appointments system the nearest you’d get to silk would be the collection of old girlfriends’ knickers we all know you keep in the bottom drawer of your desk.’

  OldSmoothie looked thrown by the knickers revelation and whilst he was still reeling she really hit him where it hurts. ‘For all your pompous talk of large earnings and the high life, I have it on good authority that last year, out of the thirty-one tenants in chambers, you came precisely twenty-ninth in the list of earnings. Listen to the sweet sound of the market, OldSmoothie, and scurry on back to your golf club committees.’

  She paused for effect before finishing with, ‘But hey, we all know you can’t polish a . . .’

  She looked around the room at the eyebrows which were starting to rise, then smiled at OldSmoothie and said, ‘Well let’s just say, there are some things which can’t be polished.’

  Friday 15 February 2008

  Year 2 (week 20): Plotting

  I met up with TopFlirt last night and the first thing she said as we sat down was, ‘I’m sorry, but it was a mistake, BabyB. A huge ugly mistake which I’m going to just have to live with.’