Law post
John Mortimer, barrister, novelist, playwright, human rights defender, and self-avowed champagne socialist, died on Saturday, aged 85.
His most famous creation is Rumpole of the Bailey, and to be honest, until this weekend I didn't really know him for anything else, other than being vaguely aware that he had also had a career at the bar. Obituaries and tributes alike speak to me of a busy, vibrant, lovely man. The bar has suffered a sad loss.
Ta ra, Sir John. I hope you are enjoying the great champagne bar in the sky.
Some silly things from the course I've been saving up to post.
We're doing trial advocacy (FINALLY!) in criminal now, and looking at the various stages of witness handling.
Our Criminal Course Handbook wishes at one stage to impress on us the importance of knowing when to stop when cross-examining. It does so with the following anecdote:
"The cross-examination was of a police officer who said that he observed two burglars trying to break into a jewellery shop in an old English market town square in the dead of the night. The officer had given evidence-in-chief that he had got within ten feet of the burglars and watched what they were doing before he arrested them. The purpose of the defence cross-examination was to show that no-one could do this without being heard.
Q Sergeant, would you be kind enough to tell us how tall you are?
A Six foot three, sir.
Q And no weakling! Would you mind telling us your weight?
A Tip the scales at just under twenty-three stone [320 lbs/145 kg], sir.
Q That night -- wearing uniform, were you?
A Yes, sir.
Q Helmet?
A Yes, sir.
Q Greatcoat?
A Tunic, actually, sir.
Q Regulation issue boots, sergeant?
A Yes, sir.
Q What size were they?
A Size twelve, sir.
Q Yes, I see. Size twelve boots, studded with hobnails, were they, like normal regulation issue?
A (Pause) Yes, sir.
Q They had a kind of small horseshoe of metal on each heel?
A Er, yes, sir.
Q And you say that you approached to within twelve feet of these men without their seeming to notice your arrival, sergeant?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q In a totally empty square at two in the morning?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q Nobody else around was there?
A No, sir.
Q Normal flagged pavements were there?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q I mean, you didn't approach over a lawn or grass of some kind, did you?
A (Pause) No, sir.
One question too many coming up...
Q Well, really, sergeant, can you suggest to the magistrates how you could possibly have got as close as you say you did without being heard by the defendants?
A On my bicycle, sir.
The last question should have been left as a comment for the closing speech!"
Second bit of silliness -- we did submissions in civil last week, concerning how much money a client should get for pain, suffering and loss of amenity after an accident at work ("quantum"). My opposing counsel began her submissions with a cheerful "Good morning, madam!" (I actually totally didn't notice this at the time, I was too busy scribbling notes on my comparable cases in preparation for my own submissions.) Now, most of us have been told at some point, in mooting or some other similar activity, quite firmly, not to say good morning or good evening to a judge when beginning submissions. However, the tutor specifically praised this student for her tone, which of course invited comment from the other students.
After class we received this email:
From: Tutor AA
To: Tutor Group X
Subject: "Good morning"
A stuffy Judge will say "This is NOT a social occasion!" (OOOOOOooooo!)
A less stuffy Judge will say "Good Morning" before you do, whereat it would be churlish not to reciprocate.
I liked StudentX's opening words because of their tone, which was welcoming but not overtly "chummy" but, as a teaching point, Tutor BB's antipathy towards "Good Morning!" is well-founded.
Well done my first 6, looking forward to hearing the rest of you tomorrow.
kind regards,
AA
His most famous creation is Rumpole of the Bailey, and to be honest, until this weekend I didn't really know him for anything else, other than being vaguely aware that he had also had a career at the bar. Obituaries and tributes alike speak to me of a busy, vibrant, lovely man. The bar has suffered a sad loss.
Ta ra, Sir John. I hope you are enjoying the great champagne bar in the sky.
Some silly things from the course I've been saving up to post.
We're doing trial advocacy (FINALLY!) in criminal now, and looking at the various stages of witness handling.
Our Criminal Course Handbook wishes at one stage to impress on us the importance of knowing when to stop when cross-examining. It does so with the following anecdote:
"The cross-examination was of a police officer who said that he observed two burglars trying to break into a jewellery shop in an old English market town square in the dead of the night. The officer had given evidence-in-chief that he had got within ten feet of the burglars and watched what they were doing before he arrested them. The purpose of the defence cross-examination was to show that no-one could do this without being heard.
Q Sergeant, would you be kind enough to tell us how tall you are?
A Six foot three, sir.
Q And no weakling! Would you mind telling us your weight?
A Tip the scales at just under twenty-three stone [320 lbs/145 kg], sir.
Q That night -- wearing uniform, were you?
A Yes, sir.
Q Helmet?
A Yes, sir.
Q Greatcoat?
A Tunic, actually, sir.
Q Regulation issue boots, sergeant?
A Yes, sir.
Q What size were they?
A Size twelve, sir.
Q Yes, I see. Size twelve boots, studded with hobnails, were they, like normal regulation issue?
A (Pause) Yes, sir.
Q They had a kind of small horseshoe of metal on each heel?
A Er, yes, sir.
Q And you say that you approached to within twelve feet of these men without their seeming to notice your arrival, sergeant?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q In a totally empty square at two in the morning?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q Nobody else around was there?
A No, sir.
Q Normal flagged pavements were there?
A (Pause) ... Yes, sir.
Q I mean, you didn't approach over a lawn or grass of some kind, did you?
A (Pause) No, sir.
One question too many coming up...
Q Well, really, sergeant, can you suggest to the magistrates how you could possibly have got as close as you say you did without being heard by the defendants?
A On my bicycle, sir.
The last question should have been left as a comment for the closing speech!"
Second bit of silliness -- we did submissions in civil last week, concerning how much money a client should get for pain, suffering and loss of amenity after an accident at work ("quantum"). My opposing counsel began her submissions with a cheerful "Good morning, madam!" (I actually totally didn't notice this at the time, I was too busy scribbling notes on my comparable cases in preparation for my own submissions.) Now, most of us have been told at some point, in mooting or some other similar activity, quite firmly, not to say good morning or good evening to a judge when beginning submissions. However, the tutor specifically praised this student for her tone, which of course invited comment from the other students.
After class we received this email:
From: Tutor AA
To: Tutor Group X
Subject: "Good morning"
A stuffy Judge will say "This is NOT a social occasion!" (OOOOOOooooo!)
A less stuffy Judge will say "Good Morning" before you do, whereat it would be churlish not to reciprocate.
I liked StudentX's opening words because of their tone, which was welcoming but not overtly "chummy" but, as a teaching point, Tutor BB's antipathy towards "Good Morning!" is well-founded.
Well done my first 6, looking forward to hearing the rest of you tomorrow.
kind regards,
AA