by Tim Kevan
‘Do you mean bankrupting, repossessing, sacking and er, sacking?’ said TheVamp.
‘Well, that’s another way of putting it, I suppose,’ he said.
‘Or vultures, might be another way,’ said BusyBody.
‘Do you think we’re some kind of free-living hippy, justice-for-all, do-gooding girls brigade?’ said OldSmoothie angrily.
He had been offensive on so many levels that for once BusyBody was actually silent for a moment as her mind clocked all of the different insults he had thrown. Fortunately UpTights stepped in. ‘Maybe not. But a bit of self respect and decorum when the rest of the world is suffering wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘That’s a little ironic coming from you, don’t you think?’ OldSmoothie replied.
HeadClerk ignored them all and concluded without any hint of irony, ‘So I want everyone to get out there and talk to the media about how terrible this whole recession is and how the only people who are going to benefit are the lawyers.’
Welcome to the age of prosperity (for lawyers, at least).
Wednesday 17 September 2008
Year 2 (week 51): Twits
With tenancy decisions for FraGiles, Sharon and their fellow pupils approaching, it all brings back terrible memories of last year and my initial fights with TopFirst. Although I’ve been more than a little pre-occupied with my own problems in the last few months, I have noticed one pupil in particular who is starting to make her mark. Mind you, when I say ‘make her mark’, this is not necessarily a positive thing. It seems that she has got herself on to Facebook and Twitter and has been evangelising around chambers about how this is the new way to bring in work, and that if you’re not plugged in, as it were, then you’re doomed. This has inspired a worrying number of the senior members of chambers to sign themselves up to various social networking sites. Or rather, taking OldRuin’s lead when he started using email a little while back, it’s inspired them to get their secretaries to sign up on their behalf.
What this has meant is that this pupil now has about half of chambers avidly following her status updates to see how on earth they should go about doing it themselves. The result is that Twitter (the only name that fits when you hear her haughty tones) has gone into update overdrive. So much so that not only do we (for I have of course also signed up) hear about pretty much every detail of her life from what she has for breakfast to the times she passes wind, but she has also started speaking in real life in the form of a series of staccato status updates. Even BusyBody, who pretty much does this kind of communication naturally, has spotted it after she appeared against her in court and realised that Twitter was addressing the judge in exactly the same way.
I mentioned this to Claire over a beer last night and questioned half-seriously whether this was the future of our cherished language.
‘You joke, BabyB, but I have to admit that on the very odd occasion when anything interesting actually happens to me, the first thing I think of is how it will sound on my Facebook update to my friends.’
Maybe we’re all doomed.
Thursday 18 September 2008
Year 2 (week 51): Bingo!
Finally, I got a call from Ginny today telling me that she’s achieved success with the expert witness I’ve had her stalking. She managed to get him on to boasting about his ‘extra’ sources of income and the Moldy cases came up as an example. Sure enough, I was right. TopFirst and one of the in-house lawyers at the telecom company quite specifically paid him off – not to be completely biased their way, of course (that would have been too obvious), but instead to do the more subtle job of not performing terribly well in the witness box. So, whenever he started to go off-message, TopFirst would give him the sign and he’d fake the need to relieve himself, leave the courtroom and then start receiving instructions from TopFirst by text.
Ginny had done a sterling job, particularly because it seems she taped the whole conversation. But she held back the best news until last: her absolute pièce de résistance. Having borrowed his phone to pretend to make a call, she then ‘accidentally’ dropped it and told him she had lost it in the crush of the bar they were in. Whereas in fact she had hidden the phone, which she duly handed to me along with a DVD of her video recording. She said with some excitement, ‘I nailed it, BabyB. Every single text that that little weasel TopFirst sent is on here.’
From her tone it sounded as though this job were no longer just business but rather something more personal. When I suggested this she replied, ‘It’s rare that any of my jobs ever get to me but there was just something about TopFirst that really got under my skin. Not just his smug arrogance and conceited ways, something deeper and more hateful. Something that I guess, if truth be told, slightly scared me.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I answered, as I pocketed the evidence and handed over the fee she had earned ten times over.
Friday 19 September 2008
Year 2 (week 51): Nuclear option
‘So what do you want, you snivelling little creep?’ asked TopFirst, with his usual charm. It was 8 a.m. and we were meeting in a café on Fleet Street after I’d phoned to tell him that he might find it in his interests to be there.
‘Well, I wanted to thank you for dropping us both in it with the Bar Standards Board.’
‘I don’t think so, my friend,’ he said sarcastically. ‘This time you are well and truly going down. Should be only a few more days now before the case finishes and the Board sets in motion your final downfall.’
‘That would be funny, if it weren’t for the fact that I happen to know a certain Mr TopFirst sold short on the telecom company at exactly the time you have alleged that I was doing so.’
He looked confused.
‘Strange that,’ I said. ‘Maybe you’re trying to take the heat off yourself. Is that it?’
Now he was looking a little concerned. ‘You’re bluffing. You couldn’t . . . you wouldn’t . . .’
Slowly it started to dawn on him that it might indeed have been possible for someone to contrive to make it look like he had taken a bet on the same shares himself. He just couldn’t work out how.
‘. . . it’s not possible . . .’ he continued.
Well, I’m certainly not going to be the one who tells him that I have his bank account details courtesy of his desire to get into Who’s Who, nor how easy it was to call in the favour with my friend Blagger and to get him to sell short on the telecom company in TopFirst’s name.
So that’s the first part of the story and I thought I’d let him stew on it for a little while. Although I admit I hadn’t anticipated that TopFirst would immediately retort by telling me where I could stick my little set-ups and double bluffs. However, this wasn’t all I had up my sleeve, and whilst I knew this, he didn’t. So I let him rant on a little longer before interrupting his flow. ‘All of which, TopFirst, would be serious enough. But just consider the double whammy of being caught out in not only insider dealing but also expert-tampering.’
This really stoked the fire and he leapt to his feet and started striding around the café, shouting obscenities and pointing at me, before sitting back down, taking a deep breath and saying, ‘I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about, BabyB, and even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to even begin to prove such a baseless and scurrilous allegation.’
‘Now that’s just where you’re wrong.’
He sat up straight as I produced a mini-DVD player and started to play the expert’s little love-nest confession. TopFirst’s first reaction was to say, ‘What’s Ginny doing there? You . . .’
But he couldn’t find the words and I said, ‘I think you’d better listen to the whole thing, TopFirst. Might make you reconsider your strategy for all sorts of things.’
He did so in silence and this silence continued even after the video had finished. Then he glared at me sullenly. ‘So what do you want?’
‘Your hide, truth be told.’
‘Yeah, right. That’s why you’re showing this to me.’
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‘Ooh, very clever, TopFirst. My, we are growing up into a smarty-pants little lawyer, aren’t we?’ I answered.
I then went on to explain to him in roundabout terms that all TheMoldies who had registered claims with us would settle for an apology, five thousand pounds each and no costs for either side, and that in the light of the scandalous evidence I’d just showed him, he might just want to consider it. Oh, and they could also take down the mobile mast that TheMoldies had been complaining about. What’s more, he might find that it’s in both our interests to withdraw the complaint he’d made against me to the Bar Standards Board. And finally, any offer should be made direct to TheMoldies themselves at the door of court, thereby sidelining Slippery and OldSmoothie and without any reference to me whatsoever.
TopFirst told me to go stuff myself but then he added begrudgingly as he was leaving that he would consider it. He’ll now have to talk to the in-house lawyer for the telecom company who was also in on the expert-tampering and get him to instruct UpTights in no uncertain terms as to exactly what to do.
Tuesday 23 September 2008
Year 2 (week 52): Pyrrhic victory
I received a call from TopFirst today.
‘You have yourself a deal, BabyB, but on one condition.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked.
‘That you never again contact TopFlirt.’
‘Agreed.’
As if he’s going to be able to enforce that one, and hey, it doesn’t stop her contacting me. Mind you, I’m not exactly seeking those sorts of complications any longer. His tone sounded very annoyed but there was a tiny bit of smugness smouldering away in the background and by the next sentence it was beginning to blaze through.
‘But you know, BabyB, it’ll be a Pyrrhic victory at best since not only will you fail to recover your costs but OldSmoothie will be so annoyed with you that your red bag’s as good as lost.’
This I already knew. Then to rub it in further he said, ‘And for your information, it didn’t actually take much to sell the idea to UpTights, and after all of the kind things the in-house lawyer has said about me in the process I find it pretty unlikely that she won’t be giving me mine.’
This I had also guessed.
‘So until I welcome you into chambers as my official dogsbody, it’s hasta la vista, BabyB.’
Then he hung up. Now I have to wait until judgment day on Thursday for the offer formally to be made.
Later, I gave Blagger a call. ‘Listen. You know the money from the short-selling on the shares that were bought in my name and that of TopFirst?’
‘Certainly do, BabyB. It’s all currently getting itchy feet in a couple of client accounts. What do you want me to do with it?’
‘Well, I know you’re not going to approve but I want you to donate it all directly to a particular charity. Anonymously. Apart from TopFirst’s original stake, that is, which you can send straight back to his account in a couple of weeks.’
I then gave him the details for the litter-picking charity that Tony and Dora had set up. Tempting as it might have been to keep it, whatever difficulties I’m in and whatever levels to which I’ve stooped this year, I will hardly make amends by spending the proceeds of crime on fixing my own problems.
Thursday 25 September 2008
Year 2 (week 52): Judgment day
Judgment day today and it started pretty well with a letter from the Bar Standards Board informing me that TopFirst had withdrawn his complaint. However, the letter had a sting in its tail informing me that this does not in fact put an end to matters because the Board will still have to consider whether or not to proceed, even in the absence of TopFirst’s complaint. This is all pretty worrying because although the threat has diminished somewhat without TopFirst’s accusation driving it, there is clearly a risk that an investigation may well ultimately lead back to me. The letter went on to say that a decision as to whether they would proceed or not would be made in the next few days.
In the meantime, I went off to court to discover that TheMoldies had organised a flash mob through Facebook and Twitter, thanks in particular to the popularity of Tony and Dora.
‘You’ll never guess what?’ Tony announced.
‘What?’ I asked innocently.
‘Our charity just received a massive pledge from an anonymous donor.’
‘That’s great news,’ I said, faking surprise.
‘Now we’ll really be able to clean up Britain,’ said Dora, ‘as well as harnessing the power of so very many people who usually go unheard.’
The case had also made the front pages of a number of national newspapers – thanks to ScandalMonger – so there were probably well over a thousand pensioners standing outside of the courthouse waving placards and singing, ‘We’ll meet again’ and ‘We’ll gather lilacs in the spring again’, as if they were ready to fight the Second World War all over again.
As I’d arranged the previous night, Arthur and Ethel were both waiting at the entrance to the court and I suggested that we should perhaps go for a little breath of fresh air before we went in.
‘Of course, BabyB,’ said Ethel, as we set off along the street, ‘only so long as you tell us what you’ve got up your sleeve.’
I smiled.
‘We knew there was something,’ said Arthur. ‘As soon as you suggested the meeting.’
‘And just so you know,’ said Ethel, ‘we can keep a secret.’
‘Well, there’s only one thing I really need to say,’ I replied. ‘And that’s to wish you the very best of luck with the case. I’m sure it’ll all turn out just as you hoped.’ Then I paused before adding, ‘Though I would suggest that you keep within earshot of UpTights and OldSmoothie at all times. Oh, and you might want to have the others gathered and primed to make any decisions. Should a decision become necessary, that is.’
They looked at each other and grinned. ‘We’ve known all along that you’d sort it all out, BabyB. You’re a good one at heart. We could tell that from the off.’
We then walked back to the court and met up with the others outside the courtroom. Then, just as we were all ready to enter and collect the judgment, UpTights came over and stood in front of Arthur and Ethel, and before OldSmoothie was able to shepherd her away, she made them the offer in exactly the terms I had demanded of TopFirst. To the letter and making it clear that the financial part was a repeat of a previous offer. All at full volume, too, so that even those Moldies whose hearing wasn’t quite as good as it used to be would have been able to hear her loud and clear. As you might imagine, OldSmoothie went ballistic and Slippery followed suit. But by this point Arthur had taken charge and gathered the troops and they turned as one to face the two greedy ones, as Arthur said in no uncertain terms, ‘We’d like to accept the offer.’
OldSmoothie began to bluster, but Arthur interrupted him. ‘An offer it seems that had already been made some time ago.’
Well, that shut them both up. Their arms fell to their sides and like two naughty schoolboys they marched into court as if they were about to hand themselves over to the headmaster.
After the deal was done there was much celebrating outside of court. Ethel gave me a big hug and Arthur a shake of the hand and a pat on the back. Ethel said, ‘I’m so pleased you made them take down the mast, BabyB.’
Arthur smiled and then made way for Tony who was holding a pick-up stick in one hand and Dora’s hand in the other. They were both wearing their yellow litter-picking bibs as, I now realised, were a large number of the other Moldies.
‘We’ve got older people following our lead everywhere now,’ said Tony, proudly.
‘Cleaning their high streets the length and breadth of the country,’ added Dora.
‘But best of all,’ said Tony, ‘is that this whole thing has brought the most wonderful woman in the world into my life.’ At which they beamed at each other.
Stanley was also there with his football under his arm. As I stood there, smiling, I suddenly saw TheColonel marching t
hrough the crowd towards me with his Springer Spaniel on a lead.
‘Well done, BabyB,’ he boomed. ‘You’ve made Arthur and Ethel happier than I’ve seen them in a long time. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve shaped you a surfboard in anticipation of your winning today. I’ve just dropped it off with your very confused-looking clerks and I hope to see you in the sea very soon.’
He shook my hand and gave me a hearty pat on the back and I thanked him profusely. I was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. Then, with the cameras rolling, who should appear out of nowhere but BigMouth the Tory MP – the man who had introduced us to TheMoldies in the first place. He strode over to Arthur, who was leading the Moldy group in the interviews, and put a proprietorial arm around his shoulders. Then he muscled into the interview, giving the following little speech:
‘Today we can celebrate English justice at its very best. This has been a tale of David and Goliath, in which the little people have emerged victorious. And I am proud to have been the one to lead them in these efforts.’
Honestly. Those were exactly his words, and he delivered them without even a flinch. OldRuin had come along to watch and he smiled at me in a way that suggested both congratulations on our result and also weary irony at the brassiest of brass neckedness certain politicians excel at. Then he whispered to me, ‘Let him have his moment, BabyB. Pride’s the biggest weakness of them all and hubris its most dangerous side. Remember what someone once said about all political careers ending in failure, and when you live by the sword . . .’
At this point he was interrupted by BigMouth himself, who had finished his interviews and now came over to throw his arm around my shoulders. ‘Not bad for one day, BabyB. I save TheMoldies before lunchtime and also receive a letter from the expenses office confirming that I can avoid paying a single penny of tax on the sale of my second home. It seems I can simply flip it around to my first home. Who knew? Think I might go out and celebrate.’