Brief Tales From The Bench (7 page)

‘I think I should warn you,’ said the Inspector, ‘that anything you do say may be given in evidence if you are prosecuted for perjury.’

‘Will I be prosecuted?’ asked Mr Morris.

‘That’s not for me to say,’ said the Inspector. ‘Now tell me. Why did you invent the story of a damaged watch?’

‘I didn’t, as a matter of fact,’ said Mr Morris.

‘Oh really,’ said the Inspector, ‘I’ve read all the evidence. You bought that watch from Mr Carr. And you were frightened that the jeweller’s records would give you away.’

‘How could they have given me away if I never had a watch?’ asked Mr Morris. ‘It was a cash transaction.’

‘Well, you tell me,’ said the Inspector.

‘All right, I will. That blighter struck me in the face, and he broke a gold watch which my wife had given me.’

‘Oh really,’ said the Inspector, ‘don’t waste my time, Mr Morris.’

‘I’m not,’ said Mr Morris, ‘it’s absolutely true. It’s because my wife
had
given me a watch that the jewellers might have given me away. D’you know what happened? A few days before the trial, I lost the beastly thing. Must have dropped it on a bus or something. I enquired everywhere for it, but it was no good. It seemed too bad that this bloody man should get away with it just because I’d lost it. So I decided to get another instead. It wasn’t cheating him. He
had
broken my watch.’

‘What an ass you were,’ said the Inspector.

‘I dare say,’ said Mr Morris, ‘but, as I’d lost the watch anyway, I couldn’t claim damages from the defendant for its being damaged. At least I thought I couldn’t, and I just couldn’t bear to let him get away with it.’

‘It seems to me,’ said the Inspector, ‘that that’s just what you have done.’

It was indeed. And the unfortunate Mr Morris who’d been assaulted, not only lost his case, but he
was
prosecuted for perjury. He pleaded guilty and was fined £100. That certainly was a lesson to him to drive more carefully, if not to tell the truth.

This story is about food and hotels, and, if you are prepared to accept anything which is put before you in the way of food, or bedroom, or service, you will presumably not be very interested in it. I do not intend this remark as a slight upon those who do not much mind what they eat or drink, or how it is served, or how they sleep, for these are matters of individual taste. It would be just as impertinent to criticise a person for not liking music or not liking to look at pictures, or not liking to watch cricket. Conversely, there is no need for people who are interested in food or drink to apologise for being so interested, any more than the music-lover or picture-lover has to apologise. Music tickles the ear, pictures tickle the eye, and food and drink tickle the palate.

At the moment some attempt is perhaps being made to improve the standard of food in English restaurants and hotels and possibly, but less certainly, to improve the service in those places. But, as so many people are content to take what is flung at them, and, as most restaurants and hotels are crowded, there is little incentive to the proprietors and managers of those places to do better than they are doing at present. After all, if without complaint they can serve and be paid for a badly cooked steak with frozen vegetables (through the medium of a waiter, who is not in the least put out if he spills the gravy on the cloth, or even down your back if it gets in the way) why should they try and improve their standard?

But undoubtedly more people are taking an interest in these matters. One has only to look at the large number of food guides and articles in newspapers and magazines on the subject to realise that the gastronomic interest of the public has increased in the last years.

One of the reasons for the low standard of some establishments is because of the very few complaints which people care to make. Most people hate a fuss. And, if complaints are rare, claims for damages for breach of contract brought by a customer against a restaurant or hotel proprietor are even rarer still. But this story is about such a claim, which came in front of me. The plaintiff was a Mr Blandish and he said that he was a journalist and that for the purpose of some of his articles he visited hotels and restaurants and wrote about what he found there without fear, and certainly without favour. According to him, the treatment he received at one particular hotel was at such variance with its prices and its literature that he sued the proprietors for damages for breach of contract. I was intrigued by the case because I admit that I am one of those who take an interest in food. Moreover, it was the only case of its kind which I had ever tried, and I thought it unlikely that I would ever have the opportunity of trying another.

The title of the case was Blandish against the Excelsior Hotel Company Limited. Both sides were represented by counsel, Mr Blandish by the able Mr Benton and the hotel company by an inexperienced young man called Carstairs.

Mr Benton, in opening the case for Mr Blandish, told me that Mr Blandish had no knowledge of this particular hotel before he went there. It was his practice before going to hotels on what might be termed professional visits, to enter into a little correspondence with the hotel to see how they described themselves, and to ascertain the delights which they were offering to prospective visitors. In the course of his opening, Mr Benton produced one of the letters from the Hotel Excelsior which ran as follows: ‘This is par excellence the hotel de luxe in the south of England. Here is combined superb food with gracious living in the old style. Our terms are not low, but every farthing is returned with interest in the happiness which we take pleasure in providing for you. The hotel is equivalent to an AA five star hotel in service, comfort and food.’

‘The defendants,’ said Mr Benton, ‘did not explain how every farthing could be returned and the resident proprietors still survive, let alone how they could afford to pay interest as well. But I should make it plain to your honour that this case is not based upon exaggerations of that kind. If the food, or service, or accommodation had been within measurable distance of what it was held out to be, your honour would not now be troubled with the case. My client replied to the defendant’s letter as follows: “If your hotel is really substantially in accordance with what you represent it to be, I should like a room with a private bathroom. I need good food, quiet and comfort and am prepared to pay for it.”

‘The defendants replied that they would be delighted to accommodate my client at the inclusive charge of sixty guineas a week.

‘It so happened that my client did want a holiday, and so he booked a room for one week. As your honour will hear, he only stayed for one day, and it is interesting to observe that the defendants are not counterclaiming any damages on the ground that my client booked the room for a week, and only stayed a day. But, whether that is a sign of a guilty conscience, or simply because the defendants find that they can let their rooms so easily, is a matter which your honour will have to judge when you’ve heard the evidence.’

The plaintiff, Mr Blandish, was then called to give evidence, and the effect of his evidence was this. He said that he arrived at the hotel with two heavy suitcases which he left in his car outside. There was no porter about, so he went up to the reception desk. There he found a young lady painting her nails, and, sitting on a chair not far behind her, a man who was doing a crossword puzzle. Mr Blandish said that first of all he coughed, but, as this produced no effect on the young lady, he said: ‘Excuse me.’

‘Yes?’ said the girl.

‘I’ve just arrived.’

‘Have you booked?’

‘Yes, the name is Blandish.’

‘Sign the register, please. Here’s the key. Room thirty-two.’

‘What about my baggage?’

‘Can’t you manage it?’

‘No.’

‘Is there much?’

‘I thought this was a hotel de luxe.’

‘Come again,’ said the girl. ‘If you’ve any complaints, there’s the manager.’

‘I only want my luggage taken up,’ said Blandish.

‘Well, the porter’s down the garden.’

‘Have you only one porter?’

‘The other one’s off.’

‘On what floor is my room?’

‘The third.’

‘Perhaps I can go up, and the luggage can follow.’

‘The staircase is over there.’

‘What about a lift?’

‘The lift’s out of order.’

‘How long will it be out of order?’

‘How can I say? I’m not an engineer.’

‘Well,’ said Blandish, ‘can someone come and take my luggage out of the car?’

‘Perhaps you’d like
me
to do it,’ said the girl.

‘No, it’s too heavy for a girl.’

‘Well, that’s the answer to that, then.’

‘Can I see the manager, please?’

‘I told you, he’s over there.’

The plaintiff went on to explain that, after he had said ‘Excuse me’ twice, in a slightly louder tone on the second occasion, the manager came to life and said: ‘Attend to this gentleman, Judy.’

‘He’s not satisfied,’ said the girl.

‘Not satisfied with what?’ said the manager.

‘I simply want my luggage brought in,’ said Blandish.

‘Can’t you manage it?’

‘You wrote to me,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘that this was a hotel de luxe, and your charges certainly justify that expression. I should have thought that someone could have taken in my luggage.’

‘If you wait a moment,’ said the manager, ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t want a hand,’ said Blandish. ‘I want someone to take in my luggage.’

‘Well,’ said the manager, ‘you must wait for the porter. He’s down the garden. You heard the young lady say so.’

‘Well, my car’s outside in the street,’ said Blandish. ‘Can I leave it there?’

‘Of course you can,’ said the manager, ‘if you want to be summoned for obstruction. It’s a very narrow street, anyone can see that.’

‘Well, why can’t you come and help take the luggage out now?’

‘I’ve said I would come in a moment,’ said the manager, ‘if the porter doesn’t arrive.’

‘Why can’t you do it at once?’

‘Because I’m busy.’

‘Was it you who wrote to me that the hotel was equivalent to an AA five star hotel in service, comfort and food?’

‘If I signed it, I wrote it,’ said the manager. ‘Ah, there’s the porter. Ernie, give the gentleman a hand with his luggage, please.’

‘I can’t,’ said the porter, ‘I’m busy.’

‘When will you be free?’ said the manager.

‘In half an hour,’ said the porter. ‘I go off then.’

Mr Blandish explained to me that at that moment a policeman came in and requested him to move his car, and he had to do so. As a result he had to carry his own suitcases several hundred yards back to the hotel.

Eventually he went to his room, which was about twelve feet by ten. It had originally been a little larger, but carved out of it was just enough space for a bath and a lavatory. Eventually he walked downstairs and went into the bar for a drink before dinner. The same young lady who had been in the reception desk was behind the bar, still painting her fingernails and smoking a cigarette.

‘Could I have a dry Martini, please?’ said Blandish.

‘Large or small?’

‘Small please. What time is dinner?’

‘It’s on now,’ said the girl. ‘If you don’t look sharp, you won’t get any.’

‘But it’s only just after half past seven,’ said Blandish.

‘That’s right,’ said the girl. ‘If you look up there, you’ll see dinner is at half past seven.’

The plaintiff said that he then noticed that the girl had poured him out a glass of Italian dry vermouth.

‘But I asked for a dry Martini,’ he said.

‘Can you read?’ said the girl, and pointed to the bottle on which were the words ‘Martini Dry.’

The plaintiff said that he then tried to explain to the girl the consistency of a dry Martini. To which she replied: ‘If you wanted a gin and French, you should have said so. We’ve no ice anyway.’

‘Well, I’ll skip the drink,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘and go into dinner.’

‘Wait a moment,’ said the girl, ‘that will be eight shillings, please.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘I’m not paying.’

‘Very well,’ said the girl, ‘it will be on your bill just the same.’

The plaintiff said that he then went into the dining room where he tried to sit at an empty table.

‘You can’t sit there, sir,’ said a waiter. ‘It’s reserved.’ The plaintiff suggested another table. ‘That’s reserved too. Are you staying in the hotel?’

The plaintiff said that he replied that he was sorry to say that he was.

‘Well, the beef’s off,’ said the waiter. ‘Will you have thick, clear or sardine?’

‘Would you repeat that?’ said Mr Blandish.

‘Thick, clear or sardine?’ said the waiter.

‘Can I see a menu?’ said Mr Blandish.

‘I’m reading it out to you. Thick, clear or sardine?’

‘Is that all there is?’

‘Yes, to begin with,’ said the waiter. ‘Then there’s curried mutton to follow or cold ham. The veg is included.’

Once again, Mr Blandish asked to see the manager. About half an hour later he arrived.

‘You wanted to see me, sir?’ he said.

‘Yes, I did. Having regard to the service and the room and the food you are offering, do you consider the statements in your letters were justified?’

‘You needn’t have come here,’ said the manager, ‘if you hadn’t wanted to.’

‘How could I tell what it would be like,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘apart from what you told me in your letters?’

‘Well,’ said the manager, ‘we’ve never had any complaints before, and, if you don’t like it, you needn’t come again.’

‘Well, I can only tell you,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘that I’m not going to pay my bill, and you can sue me for it.’

‘We shouldn’t dream of suing you for it,’ said the manager. ‘We shall just hold on to your luggage.’

‘So in order to get my luggage,’ said Mr Blandish, ‘I had to pay the bill. But I told the manager that I should sue and I’m asking for my money back and damages for a most uncomfortable night and a most unpleasant dinner which I shouldn’t have experienced but for what the defendants had written in their letter. I may add that I could have cooked a far better dinner myself.’

Mr Blandish was then cross-examined by counsel for the defendants, but, as Mr Carstairs hardly knew the rudiments of cross-examination, it is not surprising that the plaintiff’s evidence was not shaken. The defendants then started to call their evidence. And the first witness was the resident manager of the Excelsior Hotel. His name was Thomas Cutworthy.

I had been impressed with the evidence of Mr Blandish. He seemed a truthful and accurate witness. Moreover I myself had had some bad experiences in hotels and restaurants, and I may have been consciously or unconsciously slightly biased against the defendants in consequence. Of course judges shouldn’t be biased. But, as we are only human beings, it must sometimes happen that we are, even if we don’t appreciate it ourselves. I certainly was prepared to make some pretty scathing remarks about the defendants, if, when I’d heard the whole of the evidence, I was satisfied that the plaintiff’s case was true. I was quite ready for Mr Cutworthy to make various excuses of a kind I’d heard before – about difficulties of getting staff, and all that sort of thing. I also expected that some of the plaintiff’s evidence would be contradicted, but by and large I felt that the picture painted by the plaintiff would be likely to stick, even after the defendants had called all their evidence. In consequence, I was wholly unprepared for Mr Cutworthy’s version of the story.

‘Well, Mr Cutworthy,’ asked Mr Carstairs, ‘what d’you say about the plaintiff’s evidence in this matter?’

‘What do I say?’ said Mr Cutworthy. ‘I say that I think he must have gone to a different hotel.’

‘D’you mean that?’ I asked.

‘Certainly, your honour,’ said Mr Cutworthy. ‘I’ve been to the sort of establishment which the plaintiff has described. It’s nothing like mine. For example, I’ve brought one of our menus to show your honour. You’ll see from this that even the most particular customer has a wide and varied choice. In fact, I heartily agree, your honour, with almost everything the plaintiff has said. If we’d treated him as he described, he would have been fully entitled to make the complaints which he has made. The conversations he says he had with me are pure inventions as far as I am concerned.’