I am old, I don’t feel old, at least until I look in the mirror, or for that matter if I try to run too fast and the knees no longer want to play. Apart from that, all is good. I mention this in part because I have lived through various legal eras and, as Dylan memorably sang, “The Times They Are A-Changin.”
I also mention age because I’m from an era where pupils (barrister apprentices) had ‘Pupil Masters’ (now known as Pupil Supervisors) and had to pay them 100 guineas for their training, so when I say Pupil Master it’s not that I’ve remained, as Dylan would have put it, on the “agin’ road”, but rather that I’m using this term in context.
My Pupil Master had two things to say to me which were, I think, useful. The first was to avoid inebriation in court (very useful in the days where a lunchtime beer or two were considered perfectly acceptable - 3,4 or 5 not so) and the second was to say it like it was.
The second has got me into trouble, more than a few times. It’s a skill of courtroom language to put matters clearly and directly, but within certain ethical constraints (i.e. not to make things up and not to ask questions simply to wind up a witness) but it’s also the skill of an advocate - and a judge - to temper language in a way which is acceptable to the audience, and the court. I suppose it’s a bit like beginning a sentence with, “I’m not gonna lie …” but instead of launching into an ill-considered tirade of personal opinions you pursue a line of questioning through a filter of finesse.
On many occasions I have been accused of ignoring this filter, and in a number of different ways. As far as I see it, if there is an elephant in the room, introducing them to everyone else is the polite thing to do. After all, who likes to be ignored? And if everyone else in the room is thinking the same thing (and we know it when this happens), then saying it aloud was a call I’d often make, although I appreciate it’s one thing to say “what are we going to do about Geoffrey’s drinking problem?” when Geoffrey’s drinking problem seriously needs addressing, and quite another to say, “I think we all know that Ronald shagged Doreen last night,” when their personal activities are the business of no one but themselves. Before you write to me about this, I promise I never said a thing about Ronald and Doreen.
My greater problem, however, was taking the words of my Pupil Master somewhat too literally. When I eventually reached the Appeal Courts and was confronted with a judgment of a lower court that could not withstand scrutiny, I should have avoided scrawling on the front page, “This Judgment is Bullshit.” In my defence, however, this was an approach I adopted for my own personal use, not anticipating that a clerk would take my papers and send them to the parties’ legal representatives as if they were final and considered judgments.
So not all my fault, but nonetheless mea culpa. And so after a polite invitation to resign from my elevated judicial position, I now sit here writing for all of you lovely people. And the clerk who inadvertently hastened my departure gave me a wonderful “This Judgment is Bullshit” stamp as a leaving gift. That did actually really make me laugh. I treasure it.
Still I will introduce elephants (not least because I like elephants very much), still I will articulate the thoughts of many who choose to remain silent, and still I will write, "This Judgment is Bullshit” when the courts, just like the rest of us can, go awry.
