Law and Disorder (20 page)

‘So, how come a clever, handsome guy like you doesn’t have a girlfriend?’ (Nice leading question – might even make a good barrister.)

‘Ah . . . you know how it is. Still waiting for the right girl to come along and all that.’

No action other than a bit of hand holding across the table but it’s all still damning enough. There’s also plenty of time for round two and in that respect Ginny did me proud, leaving him salivating on the street as she hopped into a cab.

‘Wonderful to meet you Ginny. Would be great to see you next time you’re in London.’

I’ll keep him on the boil through email over the next few weeks and then hit him with the big one on the next occasion.

Wednesday 18 April 2007

Day 138 (week 29): Obsessions

One of the clerks brought a big box up to UpTights’s room today and she became unusually animated. As she started opening it she even went about explaining to me what it was. ‘Pomegranate tea, BabyB! Antioxidants! They’re the answer to everything. Absolutely everything!’

I decided this was a good moment to say I needed to do some research in the library. Which was where I bumped into BusyBody telling Worrier all about her advocacy coach.

‘Hi,BabyB,’ said Worrier.‘BusyBody is telling me how she’s being taught to be more assertive.’

Hmm, that sounds a bit like teaching Hannibal Lecter to cook. BusyBody then asserted herself.‘Yes, it’s definitely working, BabyB. You’ve got to stand up to the judge. Tell him what you think. You know, they can smell weakness, so you’ve got to be in there and answering back before they get a chance to pin you down. Why not try it in your next case and see how it goes.’

Not that I’ve been submissive so far, but maybe I will try upping the ante. Just to see. Come the afternoon, my mind was on to other things after I saw a curious little incident: BusyBody and ThirdSix emerging from the usually deserted storeroom on the top floor of chambers.

Thursday 19 April 2007

Day 139 (week 29): The system

Off to court in Reading today and I thought I’d put BusyBody’s advice to the test.

‘Mr BabyBarista. I’ve had a look at the papers and am struggling to understand your case.’

‘Well, Sir, that may indeed be so.’

‘Yes, Mr BabyBarista, it is so. Would you like to enlighten me as to what you intend to argue?’

‘All in good time, Sir, all in good time.’

‘No, Mr BabyBarista, you will do so now or not at all.’

‘No I won’t.’

‘Yes you will.’

‘No I won’t.’

‘Mr BabyBarista. Despite all appearances this is not a pantomime. Either you will tell me your case now or I will strike it out and commit you for contempt.’

Which brought to an abrupt end my career in assertiveness. ‘Er, yes, Sir. Of course, Sir,’ I said, my voice slightly raised and I am ashamed to say, my cheeks feeling flushed. I had started to sound like the Kevin and Perry sketch where they speak to each other’s parents and suddenly put their best goody-goody voice on, despite themselves. My opponent looked particularly smug as I backed down and I just hope he doesn’t send sniping remarks back to chambers.

Once back from court, I bumped into ThirdSix outside the clerks’ room. He was looking slightly dishevelled.

‘How’s it going in court, BabyB?’ He’s a big guy and can therefore carry off the odd crease a little more easily, but my guess is that he had been out on a big one after rugby practice last night.

‘Oh, not bad for a beginner.’

‘Pretty nerve-racking, isn’t it? I know I’ve already been on my feet for six months but I still get nervous, I have to say.’

The admission was disarming in its honesty.

‘It’s certainly not easy trying to keep it all together.’

‘Then there’s the whole pupillage thing on top. I’m sorry to have added to your woes by increasing the numbers. Last thing I wanted, actually, but there you go. That was the problem at my last set of chambers. Too many people for too few places and I just got pushed aside in the stampede.’

Well, despite the fact I’d like to see a repeat of that performance this time around, I’m afraid to say that all in all I found him extremely charming and likeable. Which is annoying. But, hey. No one said pupillage was going to be easy and anything I do . . . well, it’s just not personal, that’s all. I mean, it never is in war and if the system encourages a fight, that’s what it’ll get. So don’t blame me if anyone gets hurt. That’s all I say. Change that system, reward cooperation and I’m an all-round nice guy. On the team. All for one and all that.

Until then, it’s a fight.

Monday 23 April 2007

Day 141 (week 30): Gleaning

‘It wasn’t stealing, Madam.’ It was TheBusker during his closing speech at Minehead Magistrates’ Court. He had been hired at great expense by a local solicitor to come down to the West Country to get his son off a charge of scrumping apples. TheBusker had suggested I tag along as I might find it interesting.

‘What do you mean it wasn’t stealing? This boy stole twenty-five apples out of Mrs Frobisher’s orchard. If that’s not stealing, what is?’

‘Madam, when
Peter Rabbit
was read to you as a child, were you on the side of Peter as he took the carrots from the field or that of Mr McGregor?’

‘Yes but he was a fictional character, it’s hardly the same.’

‘But it’s the same as those times you have been blackberrying with your family and strayed off a public footpath and into a farmer’s field or watched as your child ran across that field and delighted in collecting mushrooms for the evening meal.’

‘Mr Busker, however sympathetic you make your case sound, how can you say that climbing into an orchard and running off with all those apples isn’t stealing?’

‘Madam,it’s because when you take something that it’s customary for everyone to take at one time or another it isn’t stealing as you don’t have the necessary dishonest intent.’

‘So what is it then, Mr Busker? Enlighten me.’

‘Madam, the correct word is gleaning. Peter gleaned the carrots, you gleaned the blackberries, your children gleaned the mushrooms and yes, my client gleaned the apples. Without the element of dishon­esty, none of these people, Madam, are thieves and thankfully the common law of England does not yet recognise a crime of gleaning.’

With which the magistrate dismissed the charges and the solicitor’s son walked free.

Tuesday 24 April 2007

Day 142 (week 30): Cloak and dagger

I went to see a mole from FakeClaims&Co today. I’d found this whistle-blower in the blogosphere and we’d corresponded by email last week. Eventually we set up lunch for today in Canary Wharf. Claire had agreed to come along and support me by secretly taking video footage from nearby.We arrived separately about five minutes early. Claire took a seat in a café and I walked around trying not to look too suspicious, which was a little difficult given that I had donned my best disguise of jeans, baseball cap and shades for the day. OK, it might have looked odd but the last thing I want is him recognising me if I’m dragged into TheBoss’s disciplinary hearing in the future. We’d both agreed to be carrying something yellow, which proved to have been a particularly silly idea since the café we were to meet in was right next door to a fruit stall selling copious amounts of bananas to passers-by. We eventually found each other owing to the fact that our mutual efforts to blend in had failed so abysmally as to turn us into a very obvious odd couple. He was trying to dress as a foreign student with brightly coloured trousers and T-shirt. This was in addition to a ridiculously large pair of 1970s style shades and a gaudy yellow rucksack. Hardly John le Carré, but the future of the world wasn’t exactly at stake either.

‘Hello, you must be John,’ I said and went to shake his hand.

‘Oh, thank goodness. I thought it must be you,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I am he, and you must be Harold.’

‘That’s right.’

I handed him the forged identification for a national newspaper journalist which Claire had downloaded off the internet for £25. He examined it as though it were some kind of fake currency, rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb, holding it up to the light and then going so far as to smell it. I was starting to get a little worried, particularly as there was no watermark and definitely no smell.

‘That all appears satisfactory to me,’ he eventually said,somewhat pompously. ‘By the way, is that how you usually dress for work?’ He pointed at my cap and shades.

‘Only when I’m undercover.You never know who’s around.After all these years I have so many different groups that I’ve brought down wanting my scalp that I just can’t be too careful.’

‘That makes sense,’ he replied in a way which suggested that he knew about these sorts of things. Which he obviously didn’t. Actually, it would have been pretty obvious to anyone else that neither of us did.

‘So what do you have for me?’

He had visibly relaxed after checking the ID and now he got down to business. ‘Well, I’ve put it all on this USB memory stick. Have a look through and then tell me what you think. Should be enough to sink ’em, I’d say.’

I decided that it was probably better at this stage to say very little and so I simply thanked him very much, after which he left me with it and sloped off saying, ‘If you have any questions about it, just email me. All I want is to see ’em go down and for justice to be done. Oh, and a bit of bad press against them wouldn’t do my claim for unfair dismissal any harm either.’ You just can’t get away from litigation.

Well, as you might imagine, I was quite enjoying the role of undercover reporter and Claire seemed quite animated after her role as undercover camerawoman. We sloped off to a different café and opened my laptop to check through the material I’d been given. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the bombshell he’d suggested – and certainly not enough to nail FakeClaims. Thankfully, though, it has provided me with a couple of leads which I’ll be able to follow up in the next few weeks. Best of all is the name and address of the accident management company that it is alleged FakeClaims are in bed with.

‘Maybe you’ll just have to go and try a fake claim for yourself,’ said Claire mischievously.

Wednesday 25 April 2007

Day 143 (week 30): Flirtometer

Today I was against TheVamp whom I’ve continued to admire from a distance since our tryst just before Christmas. Her flirtometer was on high for today’s hearing. Her highlighted blonde hair was down on her shoulders and perfectly ruffled, her jacket was what one might describe as well-fitted and her skirt came just above the knee. Those details in themselves would not perhaps have drawn any attention, but coupled with the look she had in her eye, oh and the top two buttons of her shirt lying open, there was more than enough to distract me from the job at hand.

‘So, BabyB, how have your first few days in court been? I bet you’ve been socking it to your opponents.’

‘Er, they’ve been OK. Yeah.’ I admit that I actually felt slightly tongue-tied. This only got worse as she moved closer. No personal space issues on her part.

‘Oh, come on, BabyB. I’ve seen you charming people around chambers. I bet you’ve been doing just the same at court. Masterful, I imagine.’ She leaned in. ‘Let’s take a look at your,’ she paused, ‘draft directions.’

‘Er. Well. Here’s the ones prepared by my solicitors. What do you, er, think?’ I mumbled and blushed at the same time.

‘They look fine to me,’ she said.‘Although I’d say your application for an extension was a little, er, premature if you ask me. But, hey, if that’s how you want it, then I’m happy to oblige. The only thing I’d suggest is that we use my draft. Pretty much says the same thing, but written more clearly, if you know what I mean.’ She smiled knowingly and I tried to reciprocate as if I did know what she meant, which I didn’t. ‘It’s barristers who should always draft the directions, BabyB. Always much clearer that way.’

Well, I couldn’t see anything wrong with my solicitors’ directions at all, but I didn’t have a problem using TheVamp’s either, particularly in the flustered state she’d now put me. ‘OK. Er. Cool. I’ll have a read.’ Which I did and then went back to her. ‘Er. Just a couple of small things. Hope you don’t, er, mind.’

‘Why would I mind, BabyB? You just say what you’re thinking.’ She again leaned in close, making it impossible to do as she was suggesting, given that my thoughts had strayed somewhat from the directions.

‘Er. Well.’ I tried to regain a little composure. ‘Er. Well. I was just thinking. Er . . .’ There it was again, my thoughts straying. ‘Er.’ Must concentrate. ‘Er, anyway, you seem to be wanting to call two new witnesses and, er, the trial is only a few weeks away.’

‘Oh. You know how it is, BabyB. Only just tracked them down. Judges always let them in anyway.’

Well my instructions were to do what I thought best on the day and I wasn’t in any fit state to be trying to argue small points in front of the judge, so I relented. My only worry is how I’m going to get through the trial if she continues to put the pressure on next time round. Again, it’s just not cricket. That’s what I say. Not cricket at all.

When I arrived back into chambers, I bumped into TheBoss just near the clerks’ room. He looked in a terrible state and I guessed that the pressure from both home and work was getting to him.