Law and Disorder (6 page)

I then told her about what TheBoss had been up to and the fact that I had stood by.

‘You fool, BabyB. Didn't you try to stop him?'

‘I wish I'd had the courage. I really do. But it'd risk everything.'

She looked pensive and then came to a judgement. ‘It's terrible, BabyB. You were put in an impossible position. I mean, what were you meant to do?' she asked rhetorically.‘Report him and end your chances of tenancy?' She looked concerned. ‘I wouldn't mention it to anyone else if I were you. Let's just hope it all blows over.'

Friday 10 November 2006

Day 30 (week 6): Busker or Creep?

Today I had the pleasure of seeing two members of chambers against each other in court and they couldn't have been more different in every way.

First there was TheCreep who, despite the fact that he's only been in chambers for three years, carries himself as if he's a member of the House of Lords. I've heard him around chambers approaching QCs and asking them their thoughts on the latest ruling on a particular aspect of public policy. As if everyone goes round reading the law reports each day. He's desperate to be picked as a junior by one of these big beasts, but what he doesn't appear to realise is that they just find him irritating. Worse for him is that the clerks can't stand his airs and graces and go out of their way to put him in his place with tiny cases in grotty, far-flung courts. TheBusker, on the other hand, couldn't be less of a creep. He's ten years' call and about as laid back as it's possible for a barrister to be, almost to the point of seeming a little spaced on occasion.

Physically TheCreep is short and stocky and his brown hair is always neatly combed to the side. Though his suits are always immaculately pressed, they appear to be slightly too big, as if he's still hoping to grow into them. The way he holds himself has the air of a sergeant major on parade,as if he's always standing to attention, although again I wonder whether this is more a manifestation of him willing himself to be taller. TheBusker, on the other hand, is around six foot and quite slim and with a lazy slouch which makes even his tailored suits look slightly scruffy, as does his dishevelled mop of blond hair. But these differences aren't anywhere near as great as that between their courtroom styles with TheCreep all jumped up and stressed out and TheBusker only highlighting those difficulties with a laid-back style that is often more surfer dude than traditional barrister.

Today it was a building dispute and TheBusker was representing the dodgy building contractors. TheCreep had some particularly needy clients, which only exacerbated his brittle manner. With their obvious differences the two were grating against each other even before they got into court with TheCreep trying to have an argument with TheBusker in the robing room.

‘I'm going to be asking for your Defence to be struck out as it doesn't comply with the Practice Direction,' he said.

‘No worries, my friend, you can apply for what you like.'

‘Yes, but do you agree that it doesn't comply?'

‘Sorry, Creep. You're acting as though you think I might care.'

‘Yes, but how are you going to answer it?'

‘Oh. I'm sure I'll think of something.'

The more stressed TheCreep became, the more laid back was TheBusker. He had no notes and came across very much as if he'd only just read the papers on the train there (which I can confirm was true). It was only when we got into court that I realised how he had prospered at the Bar for so long despite (or perhaps because of) his approach.

TheCreep rose and spoke first. ‘Your Honour, the Defence fails to comply with the Practice Direction and should be struck out. Unfortunately, m'learned friend has not provided me with an answer to this point . . .' He then set it out in characteristic length for the next twenty minutes. To which TheBusker simply got up and said, ‘Your Honour. We're not here today to argue pleading points. We know that, you know that and I'm afraid to suggest that even m'learned friend might know that too.' Without even addressing the substance of the argument he sat down and smiled at TheCreep. The judge then spent the next half hour addressing all TheCreep's arguments before concluding in almost exactly the same terms as the submissions of TheBusker.

The same applied to the hearing proper. Whilst TheCreep was busily scribbling notes, shaking his head and making loud sighs to himself, TheBusker just sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head staring at each of the claimant's witnesses and not making a single note. Watching how they gave their evidence. Looking for a chink or foible in their character. Then he'd get up and ever so gently ask them questions which didn't even seem to be relevant, but which resulted in each of them being tripped up in one form or another. As for his closing submissions, they were again brief.

‘Your Honour. It's clear the building work wasn't perfect. We'd be the first to admit to that. In fact we'd go so far as to express our regret in that respect. But nor was it sufficiently imperfect to be classified as negligence. M'learned friend has, quite properly I might add, made a lot of points today but, with respect, they were nitpicking. Thankfully, Your Honour, we do not yet live in a world where nitpickers rule the roost nor where courts of law award them damages.' After which he sat down and TheCreep's case was done for.

After we all left court, the colour in TheCreep's cheeks had risen as high as his limited height would allow and he petulantly fired at TheBusker, ‘I don't think you take your cases seriously enough.'

‘You're probably right,' TheBusker replied, only winding TheCreep up further. Then he added mischievously, ‘But hey, do you think it'd be fair on the opposition if I did?'

‘You only won today because of that mad cow of a judge,' said TheCreep moodily.

‘You know,' said TheBusker, ‘you're always complaining. Stuck in the murky details of life's little unfairnesses.' He paused and looked TheCreep in the eye. ‘Just for once, why don't you look up to the horizon and admire the view. You know, like chill your boots a bit and hey, you never know what might happen. Judges may even start to listen.'

As we went back on the train without TheCreep who'd gone off in a huff, TheBusker commented, ‘Less is always more, BabyB. Lets the judge think he's deciding. How did someone once put it? “Cast your bread upon the waters and it will return buttered.'''

It was a cold day and I think both our minds wandered to hot buttered toast. Then he continued, ‘The curse of lawyers, BabyB, is that they're trained to foresee problems in everything and so nothing can ever be simple. Just be careful that doesn't take over your life like our friend TheCreep.'

I do like TheBusker.

Tuesday 14 November 2006

Day 32 (week 7): OldSmoothie

Received a visit today from a member of chambers who I shall call OldSmoothie, not after the yoghurty fruit drink, but because of his oily self-confidence, which oozes from every pore. Think Peter Bowles in
To the Manor Born
and Milk Tray Man, but not quite there on either count. He's about fifty. He was made a QC five years ago, until which time he was moderately successful. Since then he has struggled for work, having fallen into the trap of being not good enough for the top work and too senior for the bread and butter. Some in that position go on to become judges. Others to become committee men for their golf clubs, their private members' clubs and, of course, their chambers. OldSmoothie was just such a man.

Today it was the pupillage committee and he wanted me to sift through the applications for mini-pupillage. His instructions were given in the mellifluous tone which he has no doubt used to good effect in court over the years:

‘You're an Oxford man like myself. Figure I can ask you to do this properly without any complaint. Here's what I want. Plain and simple (just like your fellow pupil Worrier, I may add).'

I felt slightly protective about his taking Worrier's name in vain but I remained quiet and continued listening.

‘Take out the following and then give me the rest. No sixth-formers looking for work experience. Definitely no one who's been to a polyversity or whatever they call themselves these days. Doesn't fool me. Preferably no one who didn't go to Oxbridge if possible. None of that second career old age nonsense. Oh, and no one called Wayne or Shane. Just wouldn't look good on the board.'

Reminded me of the story of a recruiter in the City who, having proclaimed how Napoleon wanted his generals to be lucky, randomly picked up half the application forms and threw them into the bin with the comment, ‘We don't want the unlucky ones in this bank, now do we?'

Thursday 16 November 2006

Day 34 (week 7): Nuclear option

‘I can't believe it,' said TheBoss today as he arrived into chambers. ‘My case listed for tomorrow was meant to settle weeks ago. I'd have never said yes to it otherwise as I'm booked in for pheasant shooting in Devon from tomorrow morning.'

He said this as if the weight of the world was upon his shoulders. ‘There's only one thing for it, I guess.'

‘What's that?' I asked, curious as to how he was going to sort out a straight case of double-booking.

‘The nuclear option.'

‘Which is?'

‘Contact the judge.'

‘Oh.'

‘Well, I won't actually talk to him myself. Fortunately one of the party is in his old chambers. I'll see if he can have a word.'

Sure enough, one phone call and a couple of hours later and a call came through from TheBoss's solicitor. He put it on loudspeaker, just to show off.

‘I've just had the judge on the phone. Wants to know if the time estimate of one day is accurate. I think it is but I thought I'd better check with you.'

TheBoss smiled. He had his chance. ‘I agree with you. I'd have thought a day was about right.'

My mouth dropped and he raised his eyebrows. He was definitely showing off. ‘But you know,' he went on, ‘you have to be very careful when a judge asks a question like that on a Thursday.'

‘Why's that?' his solicitor asked.

‘Sounds like he's trying to think of a way of getting out of the case. Maybe he wants a long weekend.'

‘But we're fully prepared for trial. The client's all set and you've been briefed.'

Meaning of course that TheBoss would be paid whether the case went ahead or not. Brief delivered, fee due.

‘You're right,' TheBoss said.‘Look,I'm keen for it to go ahead and to get stuck into the fight.' Then he added, almost as an afterthought, ‘But it would be terrible after all this time and preparation to start off on the wrong foot with the judge. Just a thought.'

‘Hmm. You might have a point. Thank you. It helps to have such sound, independent advice.'

‘Oh, my pleasure.'

Come early afternoon a call came through from HeadClerk.

‘Seems your case has just adjourned,' he said.

‘Oh, I see,' TheBoss said, trying to sound surprised. ‘That's a shame.'

‘Quite. Full brief fee and no need even to turn up.'

‘Well, I suppose when you put it like that . . .'

‘Have a good time at the shoot, Sir.'

Friday 17 November 2006

Day 35 (week 7): Know the enemy

Met TopFirst's fiancée today for the first time. She had popped in to visit him for lunch and he took the opportunity to show her off to as many people as possible. If you met her, you'd understand why he'd want to do that. Unlike him, she's beautiful, modest and understated, which does make you wonder what she's doing with him. Maybe it's an academic thing as they were apparently sweethearts from Cambridge where, he loudly proclaimed today, she was the only person to get more academic prizes than him. No surprise, then, that she is now doing a doctorate. It all left me feeling that TopFirst has got to be one of the most smug and downright annoying people at the whole Bar. At the moment he seems to have everything going for him on all fronts and I'm struggling to imagine how I'm possibly going to compete when it comes to the final decision. The problem with all this stuff about knowing your enemy is that the more I get to know him, the more unassailable he appears.

Though maybe this is something which in itself I can use.

Monday 20 November 2006

Day 36 (week 8): Chambers tea

Chambers tea happens every afternoon at 4.30 p.m. on the dot. Despite the fact that we are now all on email, each member of chambers is called by the clerks and told that ‘tea is served'. About fifteen people turn up in the main conference room each afternoon and it's always quite an occasion. The tea itself comes in an urn on a trolley which is pushed into the room with great ceremony by a junior clerk. Despite the fact that the members collectively earn enough to buy their own factory, the chocolate biscuits are always treated as a great delicacy, probably due to the fact that chambers only provides the cheaper plain biscuits for client conferences.

As a pupil, the lesson I learnt very early on was not to speak unless spoken to and even then to keep it as brief as possible. You've basically got a room full of egos sitting around on their own personal highs, usually after a day in court. Lets them wind down before getting back to their families. Lots of victories to report and anecdotes to regale and if anyone interrupts, never mind a pupil, then woe betide them. Which means that it's the politest tea party in the world and the phrase ‘no, after you' can be heard at least a few times a minute.