Went off to court today and was against a very stuffy opponent who was immaculate in every way.Â Even though I wasnât out of the ordinary he made me feel like the scruffiest tramp ever to grave a courtroom.Â Anyway it was open court and we were all decked out in our wigs and gowns.Â As we waltzed into court, for just a second the flowing robes felt almost like a suit of armour all set for gladiatorial combat.Â Such a shame then that by the end of the hearing even what little dignity with which I had started was in tatters.Â You see, there I was.Â Sitting opposite my opponent.Â Looking all serious and intent when all of a sudden I got a terrible urge to sneeze.Â Well, as you can imagine.Â I suppressed it immediately.Â Except it didnât go away.Â It was one of those sneaky little sneezes which slips around everything you throw at it and comes back even stronger for the next round.Â At one point I gave in to it and held my head back about to sneeze as the whole courtroom looked at me and then as if it was just being mischievous it went away without actually happened.Â But, you guessed it.Â It hadnât actually gone away.Â Itâd just side-stepped for a minute and was back in action and hit me without any warning with an almighty thunder.Â Boy, I think it was so loud that they could hear it in the other courtrooms.Â In itself though, that would probably have been okay.Â I could just about have lived with that by burying my head in my notebook and imagining I wasnât there.Â The problem with this particular sneeze was that it had taken me unawares whilst wearing a wig.Â The significance of this was that as my head was levered backwards I didnât have time even to consider that in fact when it was triggered forward it would literally be bombs away.Â You guessed it.Â As I play it back in my mind, it is all in slow motion but at the time it happened in an instant.Â Yes, my wig was displaced from my head and sent flying not onto the floor in front of me or anywhere so convenient.Â It went flying through the air only to land on the judgeâs desk, knocking over her jar of ink and her water glass and sending it all everywhere.Â But just when I thought it couldnât get any worse, after having wiped off most of the water and ink, the judge then peered down at me and asked,
âMr BabyBarista.Â Do you have an application which you would like to make.â
You what?Â An application?Â It was like having to go round to the next door neighbourâs and ask for your football back.
âEr, yes, Your Honour.Â Can I have my wig back.â
âWhatâs the magic word, Mr BabyBarista?â
âPlease, Your Honour.Â May I have my wig back.â
Even at that stage I got no assistance from either the judge himself or her usher.Â Instead, all concerned sat and watched as I had to make the long walk of shame up to the bench and slowly gather up my bit of horse hair.
So anyway.Â On balance.Â Wigs?Â I still say get rid of them.