Brief Tales From The Bench (13 page)

How right he was.

The registrar of a County Court has two functions. In the first place he is responsible for the entire administration of the court. His other function is mainly to try small cases. From his decision in those cases the litigant has the right of appeal to the judge. There is normally a very good relationship between the judge and the registrar, and I was on the best of terms with the registrar in my court.

One day he came into my room in the middle of the day, when I was just preparing to go home. It had been, from my point of view, one of those lucky occasions when a long case had been settled, and there was nothing else for me to do. So I had arranged to meet my wife and go and look at some pictures.

‘Hello, Charles,’ I said, ‘what can I do for you?’

‘You’ve finished your list, I see,’ he said.

‘I have.’

‘Oh,’ he said, and hesitated.

I had a pretty good idea of what was to come.

‘Go on,’ I said, ‘tell me. What is it you want me to do? I was just going to look at some pictures with my wife.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t stop you for the world, judge,’ he said.

‘But that’s exactly what you’ve come to do,’ I replied.

‘Really,’ he said, ‘I’d hate to spoil your afternoon.’

‘Then why come here?’ I said.

‘Admittedly,’ he answered, ‘that is a question.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘out with it. What is it you want me to do? I suppose I’d better put my robes on again?’

‘I hate doing this to you,’ he said.

‘You love it,’ I replied. ‘You grudge me every idle moment – but of course I’ll help if I can.’

‘It is good of you,’ he said, ‘and I’m most grateful. I’m glad you take so long in disrobing. The last judge we had here would have been out and away before I could have got into his room.’

‘And the next judge,’ I said, ‘may refuse to do it anyway. Never mind. What is it? I’m resigned.’

‘Tell me, judge,’ he said, ‘have you ever had a chap called Kiddington in front of you?’

I didn’t remember having had such a litigant in front of me, and I said so.

‘Well,’ said the regi strar, ‘I’d be awfully grateful if you’d try a case of his. I’ve had three in the last couple of months, and have always decided against him. He’s really a very nice fellow, but he’s a bit odd, and always seems to me to be in the wrong. He never appeals from my decisions, but there is a hurt look on his face when I decide against him that makes me feel as though I were hitting a child.’

‘You say he’s a bit odd,’ I said, ‘perhaps it’s you who are a bit odd?’

‘Exactly,’ said the registrar. ‘So I just wondered whether perhaps I’m not on his wavelength, and I thought it might be a good idea if you didn’t mind, if you tried his next case.’

‘What’s it about?’ I asked.

‘A suit,’ said the registrar. ‘He says it doesn’t fit.’

‘And won’t pay?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you had the tailor before you in other cases?’

‘Yes. He’s quite a decent chap too. I think you’ll like them both.’

‘How long will it take?’

‘Well, it really depends on how you get on with Mr Kiddington.’

‘Well, if it only takes half an hour,’ I said, ‘I ought to be able to get away in time to meet my wife.’

‘Quite,’ said the registrar. But he said it so doubtfully that I realised he hadn’t told me all.

‘You’re keeping something back from me,’ I said.

‘I’d never do a thing like that,’ he answered, ‘would I?’

‘I’ll ring up my wife and tell her I’m not coming. Of course,’ I added a little more hopefully, ‘they might settle the case.’

‘That,’ said the registrar very definitely, ‘they most certainly will not do. Mr Kiddington does not settle his cases. He comes to the court to get justice. Three times I’ve sent him away empty-handed.’

‘Now, Charles,’ I said, ‘I’m not going to decide in his favour just to please you.’

‘I really am most grateful,’ he said, and left me.

So rather reluctantly I put on my robes again and eventually went into court and the case was called on. The plaintiff was a Mr William Jones and he was represented by Mr Benton, whom you will have met in previous stories. The defendant conducted his own case.

After the case had been called on, Mr Benton got up and opened the facts to me.

‘May it please your honour,’ he said, ‘this is a simple little case of a claim for twenty-five guineas by my client, who is a tailor, against the defendant. The only defence is that the suit didn’t fit.’

‘Was it made to measure?’ I asked.

‘Yes, your honour,’ said Mr Benton. And then he added: ‘Your honour, I think Mr Kiddington, the defendant, wants to say something to you.’

‘How d’you know?’ I asked.

‘Well,’ said Mr Benton, ‘he’s moving his hands along the front of the witness box, and that’s always a sign that he wants to say something.’

‘I see,’ I said. ‘Are there any other codes going to be used in this case, Mr Benton?’

‘I suggest, your honour,’ said Mr Benton, ‘that you wait and see.’

‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Is it right, Mr Kiddington, that you want to say something?’

‘Yes,’ said Mr Kiddington, ‘very much. I do want to say something. Yes, your honour, please. Counsel is right, I want to say something. I want to say it now. Are you receiving me loud and clear?’

I now realised why the registrar had wanted me to try the case. My view is that, when you get litigants who are perhaps a little bit unusual, you should not call them to order, but as far as possible you should run with them, and help them to explain their side of the case.

‘What is it you want to say, Mr Kiddington?’

‘Shall I say it from here?’ said Mr Kiddington. ‘Or may I go into counsel’s row?’

‘You may speak from where you wish, Mr Kiddington,’ I said.

‘Your honour is extremely kind.’

‘Now,’ I said, ‘what is it you want to say?’

‘No,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘No what?’ I asked.

‘Just no,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘But what does it mean?’

‘It’s the direct negative, your honour. No, not, never.’

‘Can you help me, Mr Benton?’ I said.

‘I suggest,’ said Mr Benton, ‘that your honour asks him “what is not?”’

‘What is not?’ I repeated.

‘What is not,’ said Mr Benton quite firmly.

‘Very well then,’ I said. ‘Mr Kiddington, what is not?’

‘Made to measure,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘You mean,’ I said, ‘that the suit was not made to measure?’

‘No, not, never,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘So that’s the dispute, Mr Benton, is it?’ I said. ‘Was the suit ready-made or made to measure?’

‘Not exactly, your honour,’ said Mr Benton. ‘I think that both sides will agree that my client contracted to make a suit to measure. But Mr Kiddington says that because it didn’t fit, it was not made to measure.’

‘Is that right, Mr Kiddington?’ I asked.

‘No, not, never.’

‘That means it’s right, I take it, Mr Benton?’

‘Yes, your honour,’ said Mr Benton.

‘I think I’m getting the hang of it,’ I said. ‘So the only question which I have to decide is, did the suit fit? I rather gather Mr Kiddington would like to say something more. He’s wiping the desk in front of him.’

‘No, your honour,’ said Mr Benton, ‘when he’s standing there, that only means he would like to sit down.’

‘Pray sit down, Mr Kiddington,’ I said.

‘Thank you, your honour,’ said Mr Kiddington. ‘I’m now sitting where perhaps your honour once sat himself. Or should I say, where your honour once sat yourself? They’re rather difficult these phrases. At least I find them so.’

‘Shall we get on with the case, Mr Kiddington?’ I said.

‘That’s what I’m here for, your honour. All I want is justice.’

‘You won’t necessarily get it here, Mr Kiddington,’ I said.

‘But I thought–’ said Mr Kiddington, and paused.

‘You thought you’d come to a court of justice, Mr Kiddington?’

‘Precisely.’

‘So you have,’ I said. ‘But it’s only a court of human justice, not of absolute justice. We do our best, but we are bound to make mistakes from time to time.’

‘Well, your honour,’ asked Mr Kiddington, ‘are you going to make a mistake this time? It would save us all a lot of trouble if you could tell us in advance and then we could go home.’

As I seemed a little uncertain what to do about Mr Kiddington’s last remark, Mr Benton intervened.

‘If I might intervene, your honour,’ he said. ‘I’ve had considerable experience of being against Mr Kiddington, and I think I can assure your honour that he has no intention of being contemptuous of the court or of your honour, or of anybody else.’

‘No, not, never,’ corroborated Mr Kiddington.

‘Very well then,’ I said, ‘shall we get on with the case? Mr Benton, perhaps you would like to call Mr Jones.’

So Mr Jones, the plaintiff, duly came into the witness box and took the oath. And then he was asked by Mr Benton about the order for the suit.

‘Did the suit fit him when it was finished, Mr Jones?’

‘If I do not live to say another word,’ said Mr Jones, ‘it fitted him better than any other suit that I have made.’

‘Thank you, Mr Jones,’ said Mr Benton.

I then invited Mr Kiddington to cross-examine. His first question was: ‘Mr Jones, have you made many suits in your lifetime?’

‘Many thousands.’

‘I take it they didn’t fit?’

‘What are you saying? Of course they fitted.’

‘But you’ve just sworn they didn’t.’

‘I swore no such thing.’

‘D’you say that the suit you made for me was a perfect fit?’

‘I do.’

‘D’you say that the suits you made for other people were perfect fits?’

‘I do.’

‘Then how can mine have been a better fit than any suit you’d made before?’

‘I do not understand,’ said Mr Jones.

‘Mr Jones,’ I said, ‘it’s quite true that you did say that if you never said another word, the suit you made for Mr Kiddington was a better fit than any other suit you’d made. And Mr Kiddington now says that if it was a better fit, the other suits were not as good fits, and therefore they didn’t fit properly.’

‘All the suits I make to order fit properly,’ said Mr Jones.

‘When I came into your shop,’ asked Mr Kiddington, ‘did I not ask you if you could guarantee to make a suit exactly as I wanted, and didn’t you say that you would?’

‘That is quite correct.’

‘And when I brought the suit back to you, didn’t I say that it was not exactly as I wanted it?’

‘You said a lot of things,’ said Mr Jones. ‘Half of them I couldn’t understand. All I did know was that the suit fitted you to perfection. If you try it on now, his honour can see for himself.’

‘But what is perfection, Mr Jones?’ asked Mr Kiddington.

‘Perfection is perfection.’

‘But,’ said Mr Kiddington, ‘what is perfect to one person is not perfect to another. What is perfect to his honour may not be perfect to me. What is perfect to me may not be perfect to his honour. What is perfect to Mr Benton may not be perfect to you. What is perfect to you may not be perfect to Mr Benton. What is perfect to the usher may not be perfect to the clerk. What is perfect to the clerk may not be perfect to the usher. What is perfect to the–’

I then intervened.

‘Mr Benton,’ I asked, ‘what is the code for “this must stop”, please?’

‘If your honour just leaves it for a moment or two,’ said Mr Benton, ‘I think it will stop of its own accord.’

‘What is perfect for the dancer,’ went on Mr Kiddington, ‘is not perfect for the typist. What is perfect for the actor is not perfect for the soldier. That’s about all, I think, your honour.’

‘But is it agreed between you,’ I asked, ‘that the suit was to be a perfect fit, whatever that may mean?’

‘No, not, never,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘Then what was it to be, Mr Kiddington?’

‘It was to be exactly as I wanted it,’ he said.

‘D’you agree with that, Mr Jones? Was the suit to be made exactly as Mr Kiddington wanted it?’ I asked.

‘He said so much,’ said Mr Jones, ‘I really couldn’t say what he did want. But I measured him for the suit, and I made it to his requirements. What more can a man do?’

‘You didn’t have to take the business, Mr Jones,’ said Mr Kiddington.

‘If I’d known what it involved, I certainly wouldn’t have,’ was the reply.

‘So far as you could tell, Mr Jones,’ asked Mr Benton, ‘did you make the suit exactly as Mr Kiddington ordered?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did I ask you to make one leg rather longer than the other?’ asked Mr Kiddington.

‘Yes.’

‘Did you do so?’

‘I did.’

‘Then it can’t have been a perfect fit, can it?’

‘It was what you wanted.’

‘But you’ve sworn it was a perfect fit.’

‘It was a perfect fit,’ said Mr Jones, ‘in accordance with your requirements.’

‘Did you put three buttons on one sleeve, and two on the other?’

‘I did.’

‘Had you any idea why I wanted that?’

‘Not the faintest.’

‘Well, try and think now.’

‘I still haven’t the faintest idea.’

‘Perhaps your honour will explain,’ said Mr Kiddington, ‘why I wanted three buttons on one sleeve, and two on the other.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ I said.

‘Not even you, your honour? Mr Benton, then.’

‘No, Mr Kiddington,’ said Mr Benton, ‘I’m afraid you have me there too.’

‘Well, isn’t it obvious, your honour?’ said Mr Kiddington. ‘I wanted to be reminded of something. If you’ve got three buttons on each sleeve, it can’t remind you of anything except that you have three buttons on each sleeve. But if you’ve got three buttons on one sleeve, and two buttons on the other, then it can remind you of a great many things.’

‘I suppose, Mr Kiddington,’ I said, ‘that if you have no buttons on your trousers, it will remind you that they may fall down.’

‘It wouldn’t remind
me
, your honour,’ said Mr Kiddington. ‘I don’t wear braces, you see, never have, they’re bad for the shoulders. Anyone can see that Mr Benton does wear braces. It doesn’t so much matter now, but in ten or fifteen years’ time, he’ll be a bent old man like your honour.’