Not a penny more

Old Smoothie popped round to UpTights’ room yesterday.  They have a case listed against each other next week and he wanted to try and settle it early.  OldSmoothie is for a mother who was knocked over by a drunk driver and seriously injured.

“The Clerks tell me we’re against each other next week,” said OldSmoothie.

“So it seems,” she replied curtly.

“Yes, well.  As you might imagine, she’s not in a good way and I’m keen to settle this if we can and avoid her having to go through the ordeal of a court hearing.”

“I’m sure you are, OldSmoothie.  On a CFA by any chance?”

“Still your old charming self UpTights, I see.  Anyway, my instructions said you might have an offer for me.  No point playing games with each other at our age.  What’s your bottom line?”

“Touché OldSmoothie.  At least you’ll always be the elder.”

“So what can you come up with?  We’ve already said we’d go away for £200,000.”

“Fair enough [OldSmoothie].  You’re right.  Cutting to the chase.  The very maximum we’ll go up to is £120,000 and not a penny more.  No games remember so that’s the absolute tops.  Not a single penny more.  Understood?  Not a penny.”

“Understood.  Not a penny.  I’ll go and take instructions.”

OldSmoothie left and then returned about an hour later.

“Well UpTights.  I’ve taken instructions on your offer and it is rejected and we counter-offer with £120,000 and…”

He paused, for effect,

“…one penny.”  He smirked directly at her.

“I hope you’re joking.  I don’t believe that’s what your client would have said.”

“Funny sense of humour, my client.”

“As if.  Completely out of order.  What if I say no and your client loses the offer?”

“But you won’t UpTights.  I know you too well.  You wouldn’t want to lose face with your beloved cash cow of an insurance company over one pence.  Now, off you go and take instructions if you really need to.  You might want to get back by 3pm as my solicitors will start preparing the trial bundle and incurring even more costs after that.  Cheerio!”

Cheerio?  I thought that was just a breakfast cereal.  Anyway, as he waltzed out, UpTights was fuming as you might imagine.  She didn’t say a word to me even though she was walking round the room at a hundred miles an hour and steam might almost have been coming out of her ears.

At one minute to three, she rang OldSmoothie and fired into the phone, “Agreed OldSmoothie.  Never ever do that to me again” before slamming it back down.

January 18, 2017 · Tim Kevan · 7 Comments
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Divas

Apparently there was an opera singer dining on High Table in Gray’s Inn Hall last night.  The diva surrounded by some of the country’s most distinguished barristers and judges.

“Doesn’t open her mouth for less than £20,000 apparently,”  HeadOfChambers reported at tea this afternoon.

“She was in good company then,” OldSmoothie piped up.

January 11, 2017 · Tim Kevan · 2 Comments
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TheBusker

Today I looked into another courtroom and spotted TheBusker.  He always seems particularly relaxed, almost to the point of seeming a little spaced on occasion.  Today was no exception and this was exacerbated by the fact that he was against TheCreep.  Never could there have been two such different styles.  It was a building dispute and TheBusker was representing the dodgy building contractors.  TheCreep had some particularly needy clients and this was exacerbated by his own stressed out manner.  It started early on when TheCreep tried to have the argument out 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.”

“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 (well, I saw him do it).  However, 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.

“Your Honour, the Defence fails to comply with the Practice Direction and should be struck out, plain and simple.  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 an hour addressing all of TheCreep’s arguments before concluding in almost exactly the same terms as the submissions of TheBusker.

The same applied during the hearing.  TheCreep busily scribbling notes galore.  Occasionally shaking his head or sighing to himself somewhat loudly.  TheBusker on the other hand didn’t make a single note.  In fact he sat back in his chair with his hands behind his head for much of the hearing staring at each of the Claimant’s witnesses.  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.  However, nor was it sufficiently imperfect to be classified as negligence.  M’Learned Friend has, quite properly I may say, made a lot of points today but, with respect, it was 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.

Despite the fact that he’s in the same Chambers, TheCreep went off in a sulk after the case and sat in a different train carriage on the way back.

I do like TheBusker.

January 4, 2017 · Tim Kevan · 15 Comments
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Rookie error

Yesterday I was in Southend, the day before Bournemouth and today it was Brighton which sounds more like the itinerary of a stand up comedian than a baby barrister.  Though come to think of it, the wages are probably as paltry and the audience as humourless.

Anyway, today my opponent was another pupil.  She opened with the line,

“Sir, my client is a very old lady of…”

Wait for it.

“…fifty-seven.”

The cracking sound of the breaking of the nib of the judge’s pencil reverberated around the courtroom long after judgment had been given against her client.

December 28, 2016 · Tim Kevan · One Comment
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My Lord

Went to court with OldSmoothie today.  He was in front of a judge with whom he had failed to get along since university days.  According to OldSmoothie it all happened “over a particularly strong-minded filly”.  According to Chambers gossip, he stole the judge’s girlfriend.  Whatever the details, there has been no love lost between them since.

Anyway, apparently the judge had always fancied himself as a bit of an academic.  He’d had ambitions to be a high court judge but had quietly been given the word that it wasn’t going to happen and that he might be well-advised to apply for the circuit bench.  Since there was no way that OldSmoothie was ever going to get along with his old adversary, he went instead for the put down, calling him “My Lord” throughout which is the title due to a high court judge rather than the “Your Honour” which he should have been using.  Each time he said it, you could just detect a slight twitch around the corner of the judge’s mouth.  To correct him would only highlight OldSmoothie’s point.  Not to correct him left OldSmoothie getting away with an insult.

He was left with little choice but to pitch for the dignified silence.

December 21, 2016 · Tim Kevan · 5 Comments
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