Law and Peace (15 page)

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 would 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.'

‘I completely agree,' I said quite sincerely (although I have to admit to being a little put out by the word ‘ugly'). The very last thing I need right now, what with problems at work and Claire very much on my mind, is that sort of complication, whatever the destabilising effect it might have on TopFirst.

After that, TopFlirt relaxed a little but still kept it pretty businesslike for the rest of the evening. Although as we parted company after the obligatory peck on the cheek she did say, ‘I don't know whether it's just because you understand what I'm going through but I'd still like to see you again.'

Then she added quickly, ‘As friends, of course.'

‘Naturally,' I replied with a smile.

‘By the way,' she continued. ‘I'd watch your back at the moment. TopFirst's definitely up to something big. I think it's to do with the Moldy case but I also think it's going to involve you personally. He really doesn't like you, you know.'

You don't say.

‘But what is it about this case in particular that's getting his goat?' I asked.

‘No idea, BabyB. He wants to beat you obviously.'

‘But what else?'

She thought about my question and then answered more thoughtfully, ‘He has mentioned something about beating you to a red bag but I never asked anything more about it. Although I'm sure that as a fellow member of that venerable institution which is the Bar, with all its secret handshakes and funny walks, you'll know what it means.'

Now
that
was food for thought.

 

 

Monday 18 February 2008

Year 2 (week 21): Feral justice

 

Word has it in the robing rooms that there's a particular county town in which the district judges have all gone, what can only be described as, feral. Now, truth be told, there has always been the odd (in all senses of the word) one here and there and we've all known who they were. In fact, if you were advising your clients as to the likely outcomes, it was something that seriously had to be factored into the equation. One judge, for example, simply doesn't like women claimants and another hates anyone with a regional accent. But it is generally considered pretty bad luck to get one of these judges since even at their own courts they are only one out of four or five who are dishing out the justice.

Not so in this particular county town where every one of the district and deputy district judges have pretty much declared independence,
Passport to Pimlico
style. It started with the publication of their so-called ‘Local Practice Directions' in which skeleton arguments and bundles of authorities were ‘discouraged'. For that, read not merely ‘frowned upon' but instead ‘actively ignored'. Then there's the policy that ‘personal injury cases are encouraged to settle' for which read ‘if they don't settle, there'll be wasted costs against the lawyers'. Oh, and just the small matter of cross-examination and submissions for which the directions say, ‘Judges may dispense with these if they deem it appropriate.' For this read ‘We can't be bothered with you testing the evidence or going on too much so we'll just decide the cases our way thank you very much.'

Then, as if that's not enough they've even started offering oaths based on what they describe as the ‘religion' of the local football club where they can all be found every other Saturday during the season. One of the judges has even started wearing the team's shirt under his judicial gown as part of what he considers to be an essential element of his dispensing of justice.

 

 

Tuesday 19 February 2008

Year 2 (week 21): London Counsel