by R. A. Spratt
And so Nanny Piggins and the children reported for jury duty. The children should have been at school, but Nanny Piggins thought it was important they learn about the legal system. And the children thought it was important to go with Nanny Piggins, just in case she tried to run away. They did not want their nanny getting in trouble. When they arrived at the courthouse Nanny Piggins and the children were put in a room with a large number of very dreary-looking people.
‘Why does everyone look so sad,’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘They’re not the ones going to jail, are they?’
‘No, they’re the other jurors,’ explained Derrick. ‘They’re just sad that they couldn’t think of an excuse to get out of it.’
‘But why would they want to get out of jury duty?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ve seen what most people do with their time and it’s a lot more boring than sending criminals to jail.’
‘I think people like being boring,’ said Samantha.
‘Your father certainly does,’ agreed Nanny Piggins.
‘Here comes the judge,’ whispered Derrick. ‘He’ll select the jury.’
Everyone in the courtroom had to stand up as an elderly, grumpy-looking man wearing a black gown entered. This caused a lot of consternation among the Green children, because they all had to shove their handkerchiefs in Nanny Piggins’ mouth to muffle her loud exclamation, ‘Why is that man wearing a dress?!’
When the old dress-wearing man sat down they could all sit down too. He then began the process of selecting the jury, which immediately bored Nanny Piggins so she took out a pack of cards and played canasta with the children. That was until her own name was called, ‘Sarah Matahari Lorelai Anne Piggins.’
‘Yes,’ said Nanny Piggins, getting to her feet.
‘You are on the jury,’ said the judge.
‘All right,’ said Nanny Piggins, as she slipped out of her seat and walked to the front of the court room.
‘Hang on!’ called the defence counsel. ‘You can’t put her on the jury.’
‘Why not?’ demanded the judge grumpily. He did not like being told what he could and could not do.
‘She’s a –’ The defence counsel looked across at Nanny Piggins. Nanny Piggins glared back at him. ‘A pig,’ he whispered uncomfortably.
‘What?’ asked the judge, who was hard of hearing.
‘A pig, your Honour. A porker. A farm animal. The type of creature bacon comes from,’ expanded the defence counsel.
Nanny Piggins was really glaring at him now. If they did not find the defendant guilty in this trial, there was a good chance Nanny Piggins would be found guilty of biting this defence counsel.
The judge lowered his reading glasses and took a good look at Nanny Piggins. There was no doubt that, no matter how well dressed and stunningly beautiful she was, Nanny Piggins clearly was a pig. But the judge did not like the defence counsel. And he did not much like being a judge. So he decided to make things interesting for himself by allowing a pig on the jury.
‘I don’t see why Miss Piggins’ species should be held against her,’ said the judge.
Nanny Piggins took an immediate liking to the judge.
‘But your Honour,’ spluttered the counsel, ‘you can’t put my client’s fate in the hands of a pig.’
‘The trotters of a pig, you mean,’ corrected the judge.
‘Surely it’s against the rules?’ protested the counsel.
‘According to the law your client is entitled to a jury of his peers,’ said the judge. ‘And he is, after all, undeniably a porker.’
The defence counsel looked at his client. There was no way around it. He had a weight problem.
‘I’ve made my decision and that is final,’ said the judge.
‘Thank you, your Honour,’ smiled Nanny Piggins graciously, before turning around, pointing dramatically at the defendant and yelling, ‘I find him GUILTY!’
‘Not yet, Miss Piggins,’ said the judge. ‘It is traditional to listen to the evidence before making your verdict.’
‘Oh, all right, if that’s the way it’s done,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Why don’t you take a seat in the jury box?’ suggested the judge.
‘Thank you. Come along, children,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Derrick, Samantha and Michael hopped up from their seats at the back of the courtroom and went to join Nanny Piggins in the jury box.
‘Your Honour, you can’t allow children to sit with the jury!’ protested the defence counsel.
‘Can’t I?’ growled the judge, who did not like being told what he could and could not do by pimply lawyers still in their twenties.
‘I’m a nanny. I have to take them everywhere with me. It’s my job,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘You heard the pig,’ said the judge.
‘If I left them at home unattended, they might burn the house down. Then I’d be brought in on trial for neglecting them,’ explained Nanny Piggins.
‘And we don’t want that, do we?’ said the judge, glaring at the defence counsel. ‘We’ve got quite enough to do without trying Nanny Piggins.’
‘Yes, your Honour,’ said the defence counsel humbly, realising he was not going to get his way on anything.
And so the trial began. Nanny Piggins found it quite thrilling. She got in trouble several times for leaping up and yelling ‘Guilty!’, as well as, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ and ‘You are going to rot in jail for a very long time!’ (and that was just what she said to the defence counsel). But the judge was very half-hearted with his tellings-off because he enjoyed the interruptions.
You see, the truth is, court cases are very boring and not at all like they are on television. So having a pig unexpectedly yelling things out all the time really cheered the proceedings up. The court stenographer kept making typing mistakes because she was giggling so hard. And she had no idea how to spell ‘wastrel’, ‘popinjay’, ‘cabbage head’, or some of the other insults Nanny Piggins kept hurling at the defendant and his counsel. Meanwhile, the public prosecutor practically bit through the handle of his briefcase he was struggling so hard not to laugh.
It took all day for the lawyers to lay out the details of the case, even though they were pretty straightforward. The defendant was accused of shinnying up a drainpipe, taking two tiles out of the roof, squeezing into the attic, climbing down into the house and stealing an old lady’s purebred Siamese cat. Which, according to an expert witness, was very valuable because it was an unusually highly strung breed that never showed affection for anyone unless they had a tin of cat food in their hand.
The defendant had been caught with the stolen cat locked in his bedroom wardrobe, which did look pretty incriminating. But his counsel was maintaining a spirited defence based largely on the improbability of such an obviously overweight man committing such an athletically demanding crime. Also his client was allergic to cats.
In conclusion, the prosecutor, followed by the defence counsel, summed up their cases for the jury. The defence counsel seemed quite willing to talk into the night, and on into the next day. But the judge had caught something of Nanny Piggins’ spirit for spontaneous interjection. So whenever the defence counsel started getting unnecessarily wordy, the judge would mutter, ‘Get on with it’ or, ‘Shut your cake-hole’.
Finally it was over and the judge turned to the jury to give them his instructions. ‘Members of the jury, first you need to choose a foreperson. Then you must reach a verdict. If you think he is guilty, then your decision should be ‘guilty’. If you think he’s innocent then your decision should be ‘not guilty’. Take your time. I know decisions are hard. It always takes me ages to decide what to have for lunch.’
And so the jury plus the three Green children were ushered into a room and left to get on with it. The jury immediately elected Nanny Piggins as their fore-pig. She had become very popular during the trial because she kept handing around a large voluminous handbag that contained biscuits, cake, chocolate and other essential provisions for
sustaining themselves. Indeed, if it were not for Nanny Piggins, several of the jurors would have slept through most of the proceedings.
The jurors discussed the trial, which they all enjoyed because it was a lot like gossiping. They discussed the defence counsel’s terrible dress sense. (Nanny Piggins had distinctly noticed he was wearing brown shoes with a black suit.) They discussed who was dreamier – the bailiff or the man who brought them their lunches. And they discussed whether the stenographer was really writing down everything that was said or just randomly pressing buttons on her typewriter and hoping nobody would notice. So by the end of the day, while they had talked through some very important matters, they had not reached a verdict. But the judge was very nice about it. He said they could come back the next day and not to rush.
And so the next day the jurors were put in their room again, and again they discussed the important points of the trial, and again they did not reach a decision. This went on for an entire week. Nanny Piggins was beginning to feel the pressure of being the fore-pig of the jury.
‘I don’t know what is wrong with them,’ Nanny Piggins confessed to the children. ‘They seem totally unable to make up their minds. Every day five of them think he’s guilty, five of them think he’s innocent and one person is undecided.’
‘Couldn’t you persuade them to agree with your opinion?’ suggested Derrick. ‘That’s what they always do in movies. One clever juror convinces all the other jurors that the verdict that is so obviously right is actually secretly wrong.’
‘I would do that,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘because I do enjoy arguing with people and telling them they are wrong. But the problem is that the ones who think he’s guilty and the ones who think he’s innocent changes every day. It’s almost like they are randomly changing their opinions for no apparent reason.’
‘You could put them in a headlock and force them to agree with you,’ suggested Michael.
‘I did consider that,’ agreed Nanny Piggins, ‘but they gave me a leaflet on what a fore-pig is meant to do and it specifically said “no headlocks”.’
‘What a shame,’ said Michael. He would like to have seen all twelve members of the jury in a wrestling match with Nanny Piggins. He had no doubt she would win.
‘We’ll just have to continue our discussions,’ said Nanny Piggins as she pushed on the jury room door. But surprisingly, the door did not open because another juror was leaning on it. Nanny Piggins was just about to kick it open with a spinning sidekick when she caught what the juror was saying. ‘Who’s going to pretend to think he’s innocent, and who’s going to pretend to think he’s guilty today?’
‘I’ll take innocent today,’ said Penelope the yoga instructor. ‘I’ve been arguing he’s guilty for two days. I’ve got some new ideas on why I can think he’s innocent. I’m going to pretend I had a dream telling me how to vote.’
‘I’m going to pretend I think he’s guilty because I’m angry with the world about never getting into art school,’ said Nick the data entry clerk.
‘Ooh nice, I’m sure Nanny Piggins will fall for that one,’ the other jurors agreed.
Nanny Piggins had heard enough. She launched her spinning sidekick, knocking the door, and the juror leaning against it, down. ‘I’ve been listening in to everything you’ve been saying and I am sadly disappointed!’ declared Nanny Piggins. ‘How dare you lie to me, your fore-pig!’
The other jurors looked down with shame.
‘Yes, you should all look at your shoes. Apart from the fact that you have every reason to be ashamed, several of you should acquaint yourselves with boot polish. And you, Susan, should really rethink sandals with that outfit. Now, why on earth are you pretending to have different verdicts?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
The jurors looked sheepish. Finally Brian the accountant spoke up. ‘Because we like your cake so much.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Every day you bring in cake,’ explained Michelle the pediatric nurse, ‘and it’s mouth-wateringly delicious. We don’t want this trial to end because then we’ll never eat your delicious cake again.’
‘And you all feel this way?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
All the jurors nodded.
‘Well that’s the loveliest perversion of justice anyone has ever committed for me,’ said Nanny Piggins, getting quite teary-eyed.
‘Your cakes are amazing. Just when we think you’ve surpassed yourself with a mouth-watering chocolate mudcake, or a scintillatingly sticky date cake, you mix it up with a refreshing lemon drizzle cake. I go home at night and dream about what sort of cake you’ll bake next,’ confessed Penelope the yoga instructor.
‘Now you’re making me blush,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘What sort of cake did you bring today?’ asked Tim the piano tuner.
‘Angel food cake with toffee sauce,’ revealed Nanny Piggins.
‘Will you marry me?!’ exclaimed Bert the nuclear physicist.
‘Bert, you’re already married,’ chided Nanny Piggins.
‘I’m sure my wife won’t mind if you let her eat the cakes too,’ promised Bert.
‘Much as I do enjoy baking you cakes every day, we probably should come to a verdict about this trial,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Aww, do we have to?’ pleaded the rest of the jury.
‘Couldn’t we drag it out for another fortnight?’ begged Michelle. ‘You were talking about your caramel fudge cake the other day and I’m dying to try it.’
‘That is an extremely good cake,’ Michael agreed.
‘We don’t have to be here in the jury room to eat my cake,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘We don’t?’ said the jurors.
‘No. If you want a slice of cake, just come over to our house, we have cake every day,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Several times a day,’ added Samantha.
‘That would work,’ agreed the jury.
‘I guess we could come up with a verdict,’ said Bert reluctantly. ‘So that was a definite “no” on the marriage proposal then?’
‘A definite “no”, Bert,’ said Nanny Piggins sternly. ‘Now let’s have a proper vote. Who thinks he’s guilty?’
No-one except Nanny Piggins put up their hand.
‘Who thinks he’s innocent?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
No-one at all put up their hands.
‘How can you all think he’s not innocent and not guilty?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘We think he looks guilty,’ said Aileen the stay-at-home housewife.
‘His eyes are shifty,’ agreed Elliott the television repair man.
‘And I don’t like the way he combs his hair,’ said Michelle. ‘There’s something untrustworthy about his parting.’
‘But we don’t see how someone that fat could climb up a drainpipe, wriggle in through a hole in the roof and squeeze out through the tiny laundry window,’ said Bert.
‘Plus he is allergic to cats,’ reminded Amy the receptionist.
‘Is that all?’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I can show you how he did that. Never underestimate the agility and athleticism of a fat person. Over the years I have known many overweight pigs. Sadly it is a health issue that blights our species. And these ‘big-boned’ pigs have done extraordinarily athletic things, usually in the pursuit of more food. Why, my own mother once leapt from a moving truck, did a commando roll into an azalea bush and squeezed in through a half-open window after smelling a freshly baked tart in the oven.’
‘That’s amazing!’ exclaimed Tim the piano tuner.
‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It was a custard tart. So it was more than worth the effort.’
‘But really, Nanny Piggins,’ said Aileen the housewife. ‘Surely a fat man like that could never climb up a drainpipe, in through a hole in the roof and out through a laundry window carrying a cat cage.’
‘I know he could and I can prove it,’ declared Nanny Piggins. ‘Derrick, run along home and fetch Boris. The rest of you, join me outs
ide.’
Five minutes later the jurors had all assembled outside in the parking lot. ‘Here they come,’ said Nanny Piggins, as she spotted Derrick and Boris loping up the street. ‘Now, the defendant weighs one hundred and thirty-eight kilograms.’
‘How do you know that?’ interrupted Bert the nuclear physicist. ‘It wasn’t in the evidence.’
‘I used to work in a circus,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘Circus folk just know these things.’
The jurors mumbled their agreement.
‘Now, this is my brother, Boris,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘Hello,’ said the jurors.
‘Hello,’ said Boris.
‘And Boris weighs –’
‘Ahem,’ Boris interrupted, and cleared his throat. Nanny Piggins saw that he was feeling shy.
‘A little bit more than the defendant. Although he has superior bone structure so it suits him much better,’ added Nanny Piggins quickly.
Boris smiled.
‘To demonstrate my point, Boris will now climb up the outside of the courthouse, remove two tiles from the roof and climb in through the hole,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Everyone turned and looked at Boris expectantly.
‘I don’t know if I can do that,’ protested Boris.
‘I’ve hidden a jar of honey in the roof,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Before she had even finished the sentence, Boris had taken off, scampering up the drainpipe and was tearing tiles off the roof. The jurors watched in astonishment. They thought there was no way a seven-hundred-kilogram, ten-foot-tall bear could get in through a hole the size of two roof tiles. But they were soon to be amazed. By jiggling, wiggling, bending and stretching, Boris had squeezed his way in through the hole in under three seconds. After all, Boris was a Russian ballet dancer, so his flexibility was astounding. Then the jury knew he had found the jar of honey because they could hear the slurping and licking from down on the street.
‘I think I have made my point,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘He’s guilty as sin!’ exclaimed Amy.
‘Exactly,’ said Nanny Piggins.