Law and Peace

by Tim Kevan

  This was all a bit odd, but nothing like as strange as his performance in court. You know, it’s a peculiar thing about the Bar that we are rarely assessed in court by anyone other than our opponents and the judge. Most of the time this doesn’t matter, but on occasions such as today you realise that it can allow the odd rogue to slip through the net. For neither OldWorrier nor his client seemed in the slightest bit conscious of the fact that he lost an easy case due to complete and utter incompetence. Without boring you with the facts, if he’d asked my client even the most basic of questions he would have discovered that our case was hopeless. Instead he simply harangued him with his terrible arguments. Even the judge was biting his lip in embarrassment. But you see, unless the client realises his barrister’s hopeless, no one else is going to report him and so OldWorrier will have collected his brief fee and moved on to his next unknowing victim.

  As lawyers would be the first to tell you: buyer beware!

  Tuesday 11 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 24): Local justice

  I’ve often heard about a certain eccentric magistrate who doles out his own form of justice through imaginative forms of community service based mainly around the courthouse. But until this afternoon I’d never seen it first hand. As I approached the court building, I saw three young men in hoodies climbing ladders perched against the wall and asked the security guard at the entrance what was going on.

  ‘Oh they’re just a couple of His Worship’s new window cleaners,’ came back the answer.

  Then as I entered the building itself, I saw three more hoodies cleaning the floor. I looked back at the security guard as if to repeat my question and he raised his eyebrows with a knowing smile and nodded as if to say, ‘Three more of His Worship’s cleaners.’ As I entered the robing room, another hoodie asked if he could take my coat and after I passed it to him a little suspiciously, he took it and put it on the stand. Then another appeared out of nowhere and asked if I’d like a cup of coffee or tea before I made my appearance. Two more of His Worship’s workers, no doubt.

  This was all before I entered the courtroom itself, which was quite a spectacle. There were two hoodies in each of the four corners of the room, each standing stock still with their hands on their heads. They were clearly naughty boys who had been put in their respective naughty corners. But best of all were the two young men in hoodies standing on either side of the stipendiary magistrate, wielding huge bamboo fans, as well as another who was holding a silver platter with a jug full of iced water ready to refill his glass. Now let me be clear: it was a warm day for March at least and what’s more, courtrooms are notoriously stuffy places at the best of times (in all senses of the word). But even so, it left him looking like a strange cross between a Roman emperor, a kind of Mr Kurz figure lazing around in the jungle bellowing out orders to the locals and Ricky Gervais bossing around his minions in The Office.

  I was there with TheVamp and we were representing two of our Moldy clients in further prosecutions following on from their alleged anti-social behaviour. I say alleged but actually both of our clients admitted everything that was being put to them. In TheVamp’s case that meant that eighty-two-year-old Tony admitted to regularly playing his electric guitar at full volume in his back garden at 3 a.m. In my case, the sprightly seventy-nine-year-old Dora was trying to sign people up on the main street in the middle of the day to help her undertake a heist on one of the local banks (though she’d never actually got around to undertaking the audacious robbery itself).

  When TheVamp and I went to meet our clients, they were sitting with Arthur and Ethel. Ethel gave me a beaming smile whilst Arthur gave me a double thumbs up and a mischievous grin. They looked particularly animated and as we approached Arthur said, ‘We’d like to start putting our bad behaviour to good use if that’s OK, BabyB?’

  Tony and Dora both nodded as if this was something that had already been discussed between themselves.

  ‘What were you thinking?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, we want to be ordered to become litter-picking martyrs if that’s alright with you, BabyB?’ said my client Dora. ‘If we’re going to have to take any form of punishment then we might as well do something useful.’

  Much nodding of old heads and then Arthur produced two luminous gillets for our clients to wear. One was emblazoned with ‘Tony the Trash’ and the other with ‘Dora the Dustwoman’. They all smiled and TheVamp shrugged as if to say, ‘no problem’ on her account. So it was that the first of the Moldy Martyrs Litter-Picking Collective was born, with the magistrate ordering that they start with the courthouse and grounds and then move on to the high street after that.

  Wednesday 12 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 24): OldFilth

  My opponent opened his case today with the following words, ‘This is an appeal from a judgment of His Honour Judge . . .’

  I won’t mention his real name but suffice it to say that his nickname is OldFilth and that it has nothing to do with ‘failing in London and trying Hong Kong’. It arises instead from the fact that he spends more time chasing the fairer sex than he does considering his cases. Such is his reputation that there are, allegedly, only three female QCs at the family law Bar who have not at least been propositioned by him in one form or another (a survey was once unofficially carried out at a Family Law Bar Association drinks party). ‘Viagravation’ they call it apparently. Anyway, let’s just say that his judgments are not held in the highest regard and as soon as the judge heard that it was an appeal from one of OldFilth’s cases, he was immediately able to throw out the apocryphal line, ‘Yes, yes, and what are the other grounds of appeal?’

  Thursday 13 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 24): Middle-aged crumpet

  OldSmoothie finally discovered a couple of days ago that BusyBody has been leaving reactionary comments on his behalf all over the internet. According to a Google search of his name, it’s pretty clear that there have now been well over six hundred such comments and the vast majority seem to have ignited some row or other on the particular newspaper or blog where they were planted.

  In order to counter this, OldSmoothie has decided to take offline measures, which might be seen by some as a tad heavy-handed. He has basically employed someone at SlipperySlope’s firm of solicitors to write to all the various website owners threatening them with, among other things, defamation. Unfortunately for him, whilst this has meant that the original comments have been swiftly removed, the threats themselves have resulted in the blogs and newspaper sites being swamped with ten times as many nasty posts about OldSmoothie than BusyBody could ever have invented. But worse than this is the fact that a couple of the newspapers have retaliated to the intimidatory tactics by starting to ask around about OldSmoothie’s private life. I know this not only because ScandalMonger tipped me off immediately but also because this morning I had to appear on behalf of OldSmoothie seeking an injunction to stop the printing of a story of which even the late Alan Clark MP would have been proud. Whilst the injunction was granted today, I doubt very much that a full hearing will be so successful.

  But then, as HeadClerk said after the hearing, ‘All publicity is good publicity, BabyBarista. It’s just what you make of it that counts. We’ll simply bill him as the thinking, er, middle-aged woman’s bit of crumpet and get him running, well, strolling at least, around the divorce courts.’

  Eek.

  Friday 14 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 24): Red bags and horse hair

  I’ve been thinking about what TopFlirt meant when she said that TopFirst is obsessed with beating me to a red bag. Despite the fact that ‘RedBag’ is OldSmoothie’s nickname for a high-profile, left-wing female judge, I can only assume that TopFlirt is referring to the red brief bag that is awarded to a junior barrister by a leader in their case if they do a particularly fine job. As beginners we both have little blue bags to carry our robes around in and it’s true to say that TopFirst and I did have a passing conversation during pupillage about who would be
the first of our generation to be awarded a prestigious red bag. But to hear that he’s got a bee in his little horsehair wig about it is not only a curiosity but also something upon which I might be able to capitalise. For one thing, I’ll just have to make sure that I beat him to it. But beyond that I need to think how I can use this against him.

  Monday 17 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 25): Liar, lawyer

  Attended my first pupillage interview last night as the newest member of the pupillage committee. What struck me most was the enormous irony in the fact that for a profession that prides itself on honesty and integrity, its entrance interview is designed to judge people on how well they lie. The rubbish that was being spouted by the interviewees last night was incredible, and when I went for a drink with TheVamp afterwards we speculated on what the answers might have been had any of the candidates actually told the truth. Here’s a few of the less rude ones we came up with:

  Why the Bar?

  ‘To become a fat cat part-timer like the rest of you.’

  Why law?

  ‘Because I just love twisting the truth and taking technical points.’

  Why this chambers?

  ‘Because you were stupid enough to offer me an interview.’

  Why personal injury?

  ‘Because it’s easy and well, I like money.’

  Why employment law?

  ‘Because litigants in person are always easier to beat.’

  Why landlaw and tenant?

  ‘Because I’ll enjoy doing-over impoverished tenants and hey, it’s one better even than being a bailiff. Why, it’s living the dream.’

  According to TheVamp, the strangest question she was asked at interview was, ‘What’s your favourite Abba song?’ Apparently she replied, ‘Take A Chance On Me’, followed closely by ‘Money, Money, Money’. When they later offered her a pupillage she sent a note of reply stating, ‘Thank you for your offer, which I am delighted to reject on the basis both of your poor choice of questions and your even worse taste in music.’ She then added at the end, ‘P.S. I forgot to mention: “The Winner Takes It All”.’

  As we talked increasing amounts of nonsense, I noticed Claire in the far corner of the bar. She was with another guy and when she saw me she smiled and gave a quick wave but then looked embarrassed and turned back to her conversation. TheVamp who has never been a fan of Claire immediately picked up on this and said, ‘Hmm, Claire with an extremely handsome mystery man. Hasn’t taken her long to move on I see.’

  I’ve no idea whether she was actually aware that we’d argued, nor whether she really knew anything about the man Claire was having a drink with. I’ve seen him around at court but all I know is that he’s a tenant in her chambers and about five years older than her. A few minutes later Claire and her friend got up to leave and she flushed as she passed our table but politely said ‘hello’ to us.

  ‘Nice shoes,’ said TheVamp, admiring Claire’s shiny pair of high heels.

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ said Claire, looking even more embarrassed. ‘They were a gift.’

  With which she left and TheVamp said to me, ‘Christian Louboutin, BabyB. Doesn’t come any better. She’s certainly taken a step up in the world.’

  For my part I was thrown by, of all things, the smell of Claire’s perfume which seemed to trigger a deep longing for her company. I do miss her.

  Tuesday 18 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 25): Take the lot

  I am so very glad I’m not a solicitor. I had to spend the whole day at SlipperySlope’s firm today trying to get the Moldy cases into some form of order. All in, I’d say solicitors probably put in twice as many hours as us barristers. That’s not to say that we don’t work hard. It’s just that solicitors don’t seem to get any faffing time. They’re constantly being judged by how many hours they’ve billed.

  Not that this seems to worry the Slope family who sometimes manage to bill more hours than there are in a day. Today was a good example. As I arrived, NurserySlope was talking to Slippery. ‘I have the most annoying client in the world. He has minor brain damage which has turned him into a complete obsessive. To make it worse, ever since I mentioned he could claim for various types of care to help him with his injuries he’s been sending me hundreds of different emails with links to different crazy products he says he would like. I must have had three hundred just last night.’

  ‘That’s sounds like the perfect client to me,’ replied Slippery. ‘Take the lot is what I say. One by one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Come on, Nursery. You should have learnt by now. Each email counts as a unit. That means ten emails make an hour. A hundred emails, ten hours.’

  ‘Three hundred emails making . . . thirty hours.’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Even if I don’t read them.’

  ‘Now you’re getting it.’

  Slippery smiled and then looked over at me and said, ‘Time sheets never sleep, BabyB. I say show me the cash. Don’t you agree?’

  This even left Nursery wincing slightly as she left the office.

  Wednesday 19 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 25): BearMarket

  So far TheBoss hasn’t managed to track down the main telecoms expert who’d allegedly taken a bribe to change his report and without that killer blow ScandalMonger has been badgering me for a couple of weeks to be able to take what we’ve got public. In the end TheBoss handed over the documents to him. Whilst I wasn’t keen to encourage him to go ahead, I have to admit that adding a bit of publicity to the mix may well help us force the telecom company into settling just to get rid of us.

  Oh, and as far as ScandalMonger is concerned, this also has the added advantage of driving down the telecom company’s share price even further – which is handy for him, since the period of the bet he made when he sold short is about to expire. But with ScandalMonger all set to leak the documents, and with OldSmoothie away on one of his many holidays and completely out of contact, I have had to make the decision to ask for an emergency application for the documents we do have so far to be admitted to the case, and this should be heard next week.

  Thursday 20 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 25): Maundy Thursday

  I arrived at court today and waited for two hours with my client only to be told by the usher that the judge did not have time to hear us due to [ahem] ‘an emergency application’. I’m sure this had nothing to do with the fact that, as the usher let slip, he wants to get away for the Easter weekend. Of course not. So we trotted into court and had a chat with the judge as to when the case might next be listed. For my own part, I have to admit that I was rather pleased, since it meant that I avoided getting smashed around the courtroom for a whole day on a very weak case that I was fighting for an insurance company, and I still got paid my full fee. My opponent on the other hand, who was working on a no win, no fee basis, was getting just a little bit agitated and when the judge asked when might be the next convenient day for counsel and the parties (in that order), without thinking it through my opponent immediately jumped in with, ‘Your Honour, might it not be possible just to hear the case tomorrow?’

  The judge looked very surprised at the comment and then a hint of a smile followed. ‘Young man,’ he said, ‘the last judge to sit on the day after Maundy Thursday was Pontius Pilate. I do not intend to follow his lead here in London.’

  Tuesday 25 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 26): Disclosure

  Had our application hearing today for the extra evidence in the Moldy litigation to be admitted. TopFirst and UpTights were there but unfortunately OldSmoothie was still on holiday abroad and so I had to step in. It was quite nerve-wracking to be against UpTights for the first time, particularly when she greeted me with, ‘I assume you know what you’re getting into, BabyB?’

  But I simply presented the documents to the judge and said that it would be impossible to have a fair trial without them. UpTights refused to comment on the documents themselves, relying
on the lateness of the application and saying that investigations still needed to be made. Eventually the judge did allow the documents in but he has adjourned the trial for a few more weeks. As we left, UpTights smirked at me and whispered, ‘I hope you’ve passed this by OldSmoothie. For your own sake.’

  Wednesday 26 March 2008

  Year 2 (week 26): Trouble

  Boy oh boy, was I in trouble today. OldSmoothie telephoned me in chambers wanting to know what had been going on in the case. I updated him about the extra evidence.

  ‘You what? You’ve put in some random documents that some random person randomly gave you in the back of a random cab?’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t quite that bad,’ I answered.

  ‘Which bit did I get wrong?’ he demanded sarcastically.

  ‘Well, the alternative was to turn a blind eye to what may be devastating evidence for the other side, and it’s not as if we’ve got much of a case without it.’

  Eventually he calmed down but only to the extent that his parting words on the subject were, ‘Well I just hope for your sake this evidence comes up trumps because otherwise I wouldn’t like to think of the wasted costs you might have to pay the other side.’

  What I didn’t tell OldSmoothie was that this week ScandalMonger has been slowly leaking the various bits of evidence to the press. He’s told me that tomorrow he’ll be releasing the damning memo in which the telecom company, in effect, admits that they know their high-powered mobile signal is dangerous.