Law and Disorder (31 page)

Though with hindsight, admitting this was a mistake.

‘I see, Mr BabyBarista. What, pray, were you doing to elicit such an extreme reaction? Please enlighten me, do.’

I could think of no innocent explanation.

‘Come on, Mr BabyBarista. Let’s hear it then.’

‘Er, Your Honour, er . . .’

‘Yes, yes, young man. Get it out.’

‘Well, Your Honour. That was really the problem.’

‘What was? What nonsense are you talking now?’

‘Getting it out. Wind that is. It’s terribly embarrassing really, Your Honour. I was trying desperately not to pass wind but, well, eventually . . .’

There was a titter from my opponent’s client behind me.

‘Oh. I see. Oh. Well. Quite. I see. I do understand. Well. Perhaps we should move on then.’

Wednesday 22 August 2007

Day 227 (week 47): Back to normal

‘BabyB, where’s that advice you were going to do for me?’

It was UpTights and she was back with a vengeance today with absolutely no reference to the long lunch.

‘Er, I left it on your desk over here,’ I walked over to the side of her desk and pointed. I was probably about six feet away from her.

‘Please, BabyB. I’ve told you before. Don’t encroach. It’s just not polite. Go and sit down. Now, why did you give me a hard copy? What use is that if I want to make changes? Didn’t you think to email it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I haven’t received it.’

‘Oh. I sent it yesterday. Sorry.’

‘Well don’t sit there like a lemon, BabyB. Email it over again.’

This was pretty much what it was like all day. UpTights’s abrasive manner, for the first time ever, became something I welcomed. I just hope my sharp exit last week isn’t held against me.

Thursday 23 August 2007

Day 228 (week 47): RobingRoomKiss

It seems that it’s the month for blackmail. No sooner had TheBoss threatened FakeClaims&Co with exposing their dodgy designs than it was the turn of ThirdSix to do the dirty. He’s been furious with TopFirst ever since the interception of the post and it was only made worse when he got blamed for the Facebook episode. Then of course he jumped to the conclusion that TopFirst had done him over with the switch of the papers. On and on it goes. Except that this time, damaged as he is by the papers switch, ThirdSix has decided to go nuclear.

It all happened at Wandsworth County Court. I’d like to pretend that it was some sort of cruel twist of fate. But it wasn’t. Yesterday I overheard FanciesHimself saying that he needed barristers for both sides of a case where an aggressive approach was being demanded each way. Well, not one to miss an opportunity, I whispered that he might want to try putting TopFirst and ThirdSix against each other. FanciesHimself returned my mischievous look as he took on board what I was saying. So it was that this morning they found themselves on the same tube heading towards East Putney station. I know this since I went on to ask FanciesHimself if he could sort me out with a case in the same court just so I’d be able to report the story. I discreetly followed them from chambers and then planted myself near the two of them on the tube, hidden behind a huge copy of the
Financial Times
, Clouseau-style.

‘You know, TopFirst, taking my post was one thing – but switching my papers? That was just too far even for someone as ruthless and ambitious as yourself.’

‘Yeah, right, like that was me,’ TopFirst paused before adding, ‘and that’s a bit rich after your little game on Facebook.’

‘As if, TopFirst, as if. Anyway, it’s gone too far. I’m not having any more of it.’

‘You’re resigning, are you, ThirdSix?’ TopFirst smirked before adding sarcastically, ‘Shame. We’d all really miss you.’

Now it was ThirdSix’s chance to smirk. ‘On the contrary, TopFirst. It’s you who’ll be leaving after you’ve seen the video I have of you and a certain young lady called Ginny. Wouldn’t want the
fiancée
,’ he played with the word in his best mockney accent, ‘to find out, now, would we?’ He paused and held TopFirst’s gaze before finishing, ‘Which of course she won’t, if you agree not to apply for tenancy.’

TopFirst looked shocked and confused. ‘What? You have a tape of Ginny and me?’ Then he added, ‘But if people knew you’d been spying on me you’d kill your own chances.’

‘I wasn’t spying, I just happened to spot you with her in a bar and conveniently caught your conversation with her on my mobile phone. Anyway, I’d only go down if you could prove it was me.’ He smirked. ‘Which you couldn’t. The footage would be sent anonymously, I can assure you.’

The anger started to mix with something I have never seen in TopFirst before. For a man who always has the answer to everything he started to look almost stumped, and there was no more chat for the rest of the journey or, for that matter, on the short walk to the court. At this point I’d caught them up, having made it look as if I’d just come from another carriage. Imagine their horror when they came to sign in at the door of the court and realised that they were against each other. They both stormed off in different directions, only to find that all the consultation rooms were taken and that they were therefore forced to go and change in the robing room.

I followed a little behind wondering quite how the fight was going to pan out in court. Though when I say fight I mean it somewhat metaphorically. The ancient craft of advocacy taken to its limits. Dry, legalistic put-downs thrown from one side to the other, the judge keeping control with a slight raising of the eyebrows. Which is not what happened at all. No, the robing room of Wandsworth County Court was the scene for a battle in a very real sense. There they were all decked out in their very respectable wigs and gowns, squaring up for a bit of a showdown in court, when TopFirst went over to ThirdSix and pushed him on the shoulder, saying, ‘You’ll never get away with it. You know that, don’t you?’

‘Don’t push me, you little rat-faced loser, or I’ll give you what you really deserve.’

That was asking for it, and TopFirst pushed him harder, after which the whole scene deteriorated into a chaotic mix of fists and robes. Actually, that would glorify what was, in reality, more of a pathetic public-schoolboy-style limp punch-up. Despite being a rugby player, ThirdSix fought like a girl. Flapped around and punched like a mad March hare. Against all the odds, it was TopFirst who showed any real talent, eventually getting stuck in with a slightly mistimed headbutt. Unfortunately for him, and to the delight of the crowd of barristers which had gathered around them, his wig slipped as he made his move, causing him to make a rather mad connection between flesh, bone and horsehair which ended up not only giving ThirdSix a black eye but also leaving TopFirst himself with a nose bleed. Forget the so-called Glasgow kiss. It’s a move which is already being described around chambers as the RobingRoomKiss.

All of this needed some explaining when the two of them eventually left the robing room and went to meet their respective clients and then the judge. With more than one victim, it meant that blaming a lamp-post might be difficult and having spent too much time doing personal injury, the best they both came up with was the lame excuse that there was a tripping hazard in the robing room. This really only added to the comedy value as it showed their complete lack of awareness as to the state they were both in. As well as his physical injuries, ThirdSix hadn’t noticed that his wig was completely askew on his head. But much better than that was TopFirst who was so flustered that he hadn’t noticed that both the back of his gown and the back of his trousers had been torn, revealing a very fetching pair of boxer shorts for all to see which, embarrassingly for him, were emblazoned with the words ‘Big Boy’ across the back. Personally I had neither the heart nor the inclination to point this out to him and it eventually took a rather embarrassed usher to pass on the information, after which TopFirst blushed and dashed back to the robing room, emerging a few minutes later with a couple of safety pins holding the back of his gown together.

After the dust has settled, TopFirst will have a choice to make. Which conveniently means that for the moment I can hold back on using the mass of evidence I had gathered on him and Ginny.

Friday 24 August 2007

Day 229 (week 47): Hot air

Out for a drink with Claire yesterday evening and she was in good spirits despite the looming tenancy decision.

‘Have you noticed recently, BabyB, that whatever alleyway or lane you walk down which has a barristers’ chambers in it there’s an air-conditioning unit poking its nozzle out of the window?’

‘I guess so,’ I replied.

‘I know it’s childish,’ she went on,‘but I can’t help chuckling at the fact that what they’re pumping out, you know, what they’re having to expel from the various chambers,’ she paused, ‘is hot air.’

I laughed.‘How’s chambers?’ I asked,changing the subject to her prospects of getting taken on. ‘Oh, it’s all pretty good considering there’s only a few weeks until they make a decision. The thing is, there’s no one really slipped up like in your chambers so I think it’s harder to rule anybody out. How about you?’

I continue to be impressed and not a little ashamed whenever I hear Claire talking about her own experiences of pupillage and the fact that she seems to be thriving without any resort to dirty tricks whatsoever. Not that I felt able to say so.

‘Oh, same as ever,’ I replied. ‘Worrier worrying, BusyBody busybodying and TopFirst and ThirdSix kicking the life out of each other in the robing room.’

‘You what? Fighting? That’s extraordinary. What happened? Who won?’

I told her the story.

‘I didn’t think TopFirst had it in him,’ she commented.

‘I know. I think it’s actually helped his reputation in some ways.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Can’t wait until I next see him and say, “Hello, Big Boy!” ’

Tuesday 28 August 2007

Day 230 (week 48): See you in court

TheBoss received a reply from FakeClaims&Co today. Not, of course, in writing. Not quite the sort of thing that either side would wish to commit to any document. It came in the form of a telephone call, apparently, in which the senior partner told him precisely where he could put his allegations and that if he wanted to start spreading such scurrilous rumours then he’d better be prepared to fund what would be a highly expensive libel action. He then went on to say that whatever the accident management company may have been doing, it had nothing to do with FakeClaims&Co. Anyone within the firm who might have suggested anything to the contrary was simply wrong and would be disciplined and anyone who suggested it outside of the firm would be sued. Got it? See you in court. Oh, and by the way. We don’t take kindly to blackmail and so we’ve decided to add this to our complaint to the Bar Standards Board, along with attempting to pervert the course of justice. The message, as they say, was clear. TheBoss is going down. Big time.

Which is bad news not just for TheBoss, as I could be going down with him.

Wednesday 29 August 2007

Day 231 (week 48): Worry

With all that happened yesterday, I’m having to try very hard not to turn into a caricature of Worrier herself. Got no sleep last night fretting about what might come out at the disciplinary hearing.Now that FakeClaims have widened the net to include the attempted blackmail my role in the whole thing will only be highlighted. Being complicit through my silence was one thing. That might ruin my tenancy chances but would hopefully be unlikely to get me banned from practising as a barrister for ever, particularly given the fact that I was an impressionable pupil being led astray by my pupilmaster. Actively getting involved in the cover-up, though, is far worse. I really am stuffed, and to cap it all I didn’t have the best lunch in the world with Claire.

‘There’s something going on, BabyB. I can tell. It’s far more than TheBoss and FakeClaims. What are you up to that you feel you can’t tell me?’

‘There’s nothing, Claire. Really.’

She gave me what OldRuin calls an old-fashioned look, reproving yet kindly.

‘Is it TheVamp, BabyB? I know I don’t like her but I like even less that we can’t talk properly at the moment.’

‘It’s just stress, Claire. You know, pupillage and all. We’re all going through it.’

‘Is it maybe your mum? I mean that can get pretty difficult at times?’

I couldn’t tell her about TheBoss and all the goings-on there, nor could I mention the various shenanigans with the other pupils, despite the fact that I wanted to. But she could tell I was locking her out. ‘Look, BabyB. If you’re not prepared to talk to me then I don’t see how we can be friends.’

At which point she got up from lunch and left.

Still, despite even this I think that I’m handling the pressure better than BusyBody, at least. The latest I heard was that she was spotted knitting baby clothes in the middle of a court hearing whilst her opponent was making submissions. The judge apparently stopped the proceedings and asked her what she was doing and she told him straight. He was dumbfounded as to what to do about it without causing some sort of offence and so simply let her continue.

Thursday 30 August 2007

Day 232 (week 48): Reassurance