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Year 3, week 39: Twitter

With tenancy decisions getting nearer, it brings back terrible memories of two years ago and my first fights with TopFirst. Though I’ve been more than a little pre-occupied with my own problems in the last few months, there is one pupil in particular who is starting to make her mark. Though when I say make her mark, that’s not necessarily a positive thing. You see she’s got herself onto Facebook and Twitter and has been evangelising around chambers about how it’s the new way to bring in work and that if you’re not on it you’re doomed. Well this has led a great number of the senior lot to get themselves signed up. Actually, it’s led their secretaries to get them signed up but that’s almost the same thing for most of them. What this has meant is that she has about half of chambers avidly following her status updates to see how on earth they should go about doing it themselves. The net result is that Twitter (the only name that fits when you hear her haughty tones) has gone into update overdrive. So much so that not only do we (for I have of course signed up) hear about pretty much every detail of her life from what she has for breakfast to the times she passes wind but she has also started speaking in the form of a staccato series of status updates. Even BusyBody who almost does this kind of communication naturally has spotted it after she appeared against her in court and found that Twitter was addressing the judge in just the same way.

I mentioned this to Claire over a beer last night and questioned kind of jokingly whether this was the future of our cherished language. “You joke, BabyB, but I have to admit that on the very odd occasion when anything interesting happens to me, the first thing I think of is how this will sound on my Facebook update to my friends.”

Maybe we’re all doomed.

Year 3, week 39: BeachedWhale

We’ve been doing more interviews for pupillage this week and incredibly they’ve continued to allow OldSmoothie and UpTights to take part. Last night apparently one of the female candidates had listed as her hobbies synchronised swimming and beach volleyball which led OldSmoothie to stumble from one cringeworthy question to another until eventually he had obtained an offer of lessons for the swimming. Within minutes of this story circulating around chambers this morning, a picture of some real synchronised swimmers had been PhotoShopped to replace one of their faces with that of OldSmoothie under the heading: “Moby Dick alive and well in Slough Leisure Centre.”

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Nice review of BabyBarista and the Art of War from Barry McGuigan MBE, former World featherweight Boxing Champion:

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Year 3, week 39: a sad day

“It is a sad day,” said OldRuin, who seemed to be uncharacteristically agitated this evening.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Have you read the news? The Times has reported that the Court of Appeal has decided that suspected jury tampering is enough to replace trial by jury with trial by judge.”
“Conviction by judge, more like,” said OldSmoothie who was hovering nearby.
“Well, quite,” said OldRuin.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I said.
"Not exactly the best message to be sending to future juries and witnesses," added OldSmoothie. "We'll try and protect you and all but hey, only if it doesn't cost too much."
“Mark my words, BabyB," said OldRuin. "Watering down the right to trial by jury is the single biggest erosion of civil liberties in the whole dark history of this so-called new Labour regime.”
“Oh.”
"Call me old-fashioned," said OldSmoothie, "but I always figured that if there was an abuse of process such as jury tampering you would get rid of the abuse not the process."
“Tyranny doesn’t usually appear through anything as obvious as a coup, BabyB," added OldRuin. "It creeps up when you’re least expecting it. Plays on your weaknesses and slowly eats away at your rights in the name of security or more often fear.” He looked sad as he paused, as if he was trying to articulate so many different strands of thought. “I remember once chatting to Lord Denning at some drinks party or other when I was much younger. Out of the blue he suddenly said to me: ‘You know, the most important right for any Englishman under the law is that of being tried by a cross-section of one’s peers. Goes back to Saxon times you know and it is something we must cherish above all else.’ At the time I couldn’t understand why he seemed to be so concerned that it might in any way be under threat.” OldRuin then bowed his head and started to leave the room before saying in almost a whisper: “I have understood too late.” He paused and left with: “A sad day, indeed.”

For an interview on this topic by Charon QC with BabyBarista's author, click He paused and left with: “A sad day, indeed.”

For an interview on this topic by Charon QC with BabyBarista's author, click here.

Year 3, week 38: what larks, eh pip?

There was a colourful menagerie of extremely high maintenance ladies gathered together in lunch today. You see, it was the Middle Temple Church Fete this evening and it was due to be opened by the actor Nigel Havers. When the news had first been announced there was a certain frisson of excitement from a fair number of the opposite sex. All of which left TheBusker being unable to resist leaving a note on BusyBody’s table ostensibly from the Middle Temple Treasury and addressed to OldSmoothie informing him that the distinguished thesp would also in fact be eating in Middle Temple Hall yesterday lunchtime “as well as mingling with fellow diners”. The letter ended emphasising the importance of keeping this information to himself “in order that the whole occasion may remain a discreet affair”.

True to form, BusyBody got to work and by half past twelve yesterday there was a queue of very well-dressed ladies standing at the entrance to the Hall looking each other up and down somewhat competitively. Having been tipped off by TheBusker, I went along and immediately spotted the double act of UpTights and TheVamp and then just nearby even QueenBee who had rather stylishly under-stated her own get up for the occasion. What I didn’t realise was that TheBusker had got OldSmoothie in on the act and also hired a Havers lookalike to turn up and have lunch with him. The fawning which followed was all captured on OldSmoothie’s video phone and has been playing on a continuous loop in the chambers conference room ever since.

Most wittering ramble of the day came from UpTights: “Nigel. May I call you Nigel? You know, I really can’t believe we haven’t met before. I’ve always been a fan of your work. Chariots of Fire and all that running on beaches. Wonderful stuff.  I even appeared in front of your Aunt Butler-Sloss, you know. And what a family you’re from what with a Lord Chancellor for a dad and of course your brother being a barrister and all. Oh what a shame you didn’t enter the profession. I might even have been your pupil. Though that would have probably been too great a loss to the arts. By the way, did I mention, I so loved you in Don’t Wait Up. Oh and of course The Charmer. And how very charming you are in real life, too…” And so it went on, and on…

As I left the Hall next to TheBusker, he turned to me and said in his best West Country accent: “What larks, eh Pip? What larks!”

Year 3, week 38: age-old problem

Much fuss at a chambers meeting yesterday. Apparently we recently turned down a fifty-eight year old lady for interview and she has made an official complaint claiming that she has been discriminated against on account of her age. “We didn’t take her on,” said OldSmoothie diplomatically, “because she was a mad old witch and for what it’s worth, I think I am quoting UpTights’s exact words.”
“You had UpTights and OldSmoothie on the same interview panel?” said BusyBody incredulously.
“She was a mad old witch,” said UpTights. “But it was the mad and the witch bits that did it. Not her age.”
“Well that’ll look just great when she gets disclosure of your notes,” said TheCreep.
“Notes?” responded OldSmoothie. “I certainly wasn’t taking notes. It’s one thing asking us to give up a whole Saturday morning. Quite another to expect us to be compos mentis sufficient to take notes. For my part I didn’t get home from the Club until four in the morning.”
“Nor me,” said UpTights remaining tight-lipped as to her own reasons for not doing so.
“Who was the third member of the panel?” asked TheCreep.
“I was,” said TheBusker. “Though I’m afraid my notes only cover my own judgment of the matter.”
“And what did they say?” asked TheCreep.
“Er, well, you have to remember that these were for my private use only.”
“Well, what did they say?” barked UpTights.
“And they certainly weren’t meant to cause any offence.”
“Look. Stop beating around the bush and just tell us,” she screeched.
“Er, well. It’s pretty succinct actually.” He paused, looking slightly sheepish, before looking down at a piece of paper and slowly reading the following words: “Makes even UpTights seem positively laid back.”

Ouch.

Year 3, week 37: chocolate teapots

Chambers had a meeting yesterday evening about something close to everybody’s heart. Actually as close to many of their hearts as you’re likely to get since the subject was costs. More particularly, how they could manage to maximise those costs. It seems that there is a review under way as to whether to raise the financial limits for the small claims track. TheCreep was acting as shop steward and spent about twenty minutes on his feet explaining the implications in painful detail. Just as everybody was about to fall asleep, TheVamp piped up with: “Sorry to interrupt CreepyWeepy but really, you’re being about as effective as a chocolate teapot. What he’s wanting to say is that it’ll mean more work for less money and so it’s time to start kicking up a fuss.”

Oh.

Year 3, week 37: slap versus tickle

So last week we had a couple of days of submissions in the Moldy litigation and were then given a couple more weeks to prepare for a few other contrived questions by JudgeFetish. Really nothing much of substance actually happened save for the fact that all eyes are now on TopFirst to see if he starts trying to manipulate the Judge or the litigation more generally.

Meanwhile QueenBee has moved into action and yesterday had a meeting with myself and TopFirst’s fiancée TopFlirt. She had summoned us both to her office and somewhat to my surprise TopFlirt turned up. Even in the company of the beautiful and really quite glamorous TopFlirt, QueenBee shone and after we entered her office we both went and stood in front of her desk like two naughty schoolchildren. “Now,” she said, “I presume you both know why I have asked to see you?”
We looked at each other before answering: “No,” in tandem.
“Oh, come on,” said QueenBee, “let’s not play games. I know about the little fling between the two of you and I imagine you,” she nodded at TopFlirt, “wouldn’t want your loving fiancée to find out.” She looked at us both before ostensibly softening her approach with: “But please, how rude of me. Take a seat and let me get you both a drink.” She smiled whilst TopFlirt looked even more nervous.

With formalities out of the way it was back to business and TopFlirt cut to the chase. “So what do you want from me, exactly?”
“I want information, of course. Not enough to damage your beau, but certainly enough to damage his case.”
“Don’t you think there’s a risk that I might tell him.”
“Of course. But I’ve always enjoyed risk. That’s why I’m a litigator. My guess is you won’t. But even if you did, you’d have no proof. Remember, our security man checked you for recording equipment as you entered the building.”
“Information about what exactly?”
“You’re a bright girl, TopFlirt. I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

After which the subject was dropped and QueenBee couldn’t resist a little banter over the relative merits of a bit of slap versus tickle. “By the way,” she said to TopFlirt as she was leaving. “As for your two young men. Having watched them both in court for weeks on end, my guess is that BabyB prefers you in Myla and TopFirst in Agent Provocateur.”
Not to be completely outdone, TopFlirt replied over her shoulder with: “and my guess is that you would prefer either of them to even your finest pair of Christian Loubutins.”

Year 3, week 36: up Judy’s Passage

“Terrible thing,” said HeadofChambers at lunch, “The Fourth of June and all will be dead.”
“What on earth are you talking about,” asked UpTights.
“George III’s birthday of course.  Champagne and smoked salmon on Agar's, listening to the gentle thud of leather meeting willow.”
“I think he’s talking about his time at Eton,” whispered BusyBody. “Anyway,” she piped up a little more loudly and directing it at HeadofChambers, “what’s the problem this year?”
At this point I should say that I am now quoting his answer word for word, all said utterly deadpan and without even a hint of irony: “Swine flu, of course. Not even Beaks or members of Pop will be allowed up Judy's Passage.”

After which he looked around in complete incomprehension as the rest of the table collapsed in fits of laughter before TheVamp broke in with: "Well, that should be a relief for Judy."

Year 3, week 36: delicious irony

There was a long queue outside of chambers today which was an unusual sight since barristers rarely queue up for anything. As I approached, I could hear a very heated conversation although for once it all appeared to be going one way. “The very least you could expect is that law-makers keep to the spirit as well as the letter of the very laws they enact,” said HeadofChambers.
“Slippery, self-serving bunch of fat, greedy layabouts,” said OldSmoothie.
“Playing the system for all it is worth,” added BusyBody.

Then I asked the reason for the queue. TheBusker was passing at just the same time and smiled before giving his answer directly at OldSmoothie. “Oh it’s the visit of a new accountant BabyB. Word has it that he has some magic formula to get around the new 50% tax bracket for income over a hundred and fifty grand.”

Well, quite.