Bon Vivant

The Calm Before The Storm 

Despite initial skirmishes, the phoney war between the publicly funded Bar and the Ministry of “Justice” continues while we wait for the real conflict to begin. Is the Public Defender scheme the plan B of which my mandarin friend warned me or is it yet another smokescreen to cover even more awful shenanigans deep in the Whitehall bunker? Andrew, our Senior Clerk, who hides a twitchy personality under a mask of assurance and confidence, came upstairs for our weekly Headmaster’s chat. It had long ago ceased to be enjoyable and now is simply a list of actual, putative, impending or imaginary crises.  

The 2005 and 2013 legal reporting reforms have given rise to initiatives and new images which feed into a new Arts and Humanities Research Council funded project: Judging Images: the making, management and consumption of judicial images. Leslie J Moran reflects upon this project and on Isobel Williams’s work.  

Isobel Williams is not so much a courtroom artist, commissioned to produce court pictures for an image hungry media, but an artist interpreting her courtroom  experiences in words and pictures. Her licence to draw in the Supreme Court is indicative of a new relationship between courts and visual media. 

Blogging artist Isobel Williams on her work in the highest court in the land.  

Since July 2012 I have been an occasional blogger-with-a-difference in the Supreme Court, with the court’s permission. The difference is that I illustrate my blog with drawings which I do on the spot; I rarely embellish them afterwards. 

A strike or not a strike? That is the question.  

Everybody has returned from the seasonal festivities absent the traditional good cheer. The clerks have “accidentally” discovered a working party report from a sub-committee chaired by one or other of the brothers Twist – a committee that I have to confess I had no idea I had appointed and probably never did – that has recommended our staff take the same pay cut proposed for us by a Ministry of Justice that increasingly looks better equipped to be engaged in the used-car trade. 

Shakespeare’s Globe actors were joined by Members of Gray’s Inn for a special staged reading of Supposes, written in 1556 by George Gascoigne, a fellow Gray’s Inn Member. The rarely played drama returned to the Hall in which it was first performed. James Wallace, the director, and Master Roger Eastman, one of the barrister/actors, reflect on the day.  

The chance to do the very first play written in English prose in the actual building where it was first performed doesn’t come around too often. That play, Supposes, is: “A Comedy written in the Italian tongue by Ludovico Ariosto, Englished by George Gascoigne of The Honourable Society of Gray’s Inn, Esquire, and there presented.” It was acted by lawyers in 1566 in the same Hall to which, 447 years later on 3 November 2013, Shakespeare’s Globe brought its Read Not Dead on the road project. Joining the professional actors were four current Gray’s members, who bravely took the stage at 3pm for a fully staged script-in-hand performance after only beginning rehearsals at 10am. 

Expect the Unexpected 

 One of the great joys of my life is returning home after a hard day’s gossiping in Chambers: shoes off, feet on the stool and a stiff gin and tonic. Or should I say “some gin with tonic”?  

A friend of mine at university once over-reached himself by taking out a girl called Jane, whose family was from the deepest Shires: the sort that disdains titles, never double-barrels and considers the Royal Family to be parvenus. He was invited for a weekend. Jane later told him in the Kardomah Café (she was a girl of simple tastes) that, after his departure, her mother had listed in order the ten social solecisms of his visit. Top of the list was that he had asked for “a gin and tonic” and not “some gin with tonic”. How we laughed when he told us until I next ordered a combination drink and heard myself asking for some whisky with soda.  

Theatre company Clean Break presented  Billy the Girl, written by Katie Hims, directed by Lucy Morrison and played at Soho Theatre from 29 October to 24 November. Nigel Pascoe QC reviews the play for  Counsel. 

Good research is rarely wasted. True certainly for prize winning playwright Katie Hims, having tutored in womens’ prisons in drama and completely absorbed the language. In this haunting piece, she reproduces it to perfection. Insecurity, hope and always the fear of rejection in the air, she set out nevertheless to achieve, quite deliberately, a happy ending. The result is a compelling and uplifting quasi-comedy, adding effortlessly to the excellent reputation that Clean Break has gained. For this is purposeful theatre, helping female offenders develop their potential through drama. But absent entirely from the play is any sense of polemic messaging. The picture is true because the playwright has listened and allowed us with considerable skill both to learn and to share. It is some achievement. 

Dreams of an international legal career are shattered  

November 5, 2013: “Treason doth never prosper. What’s the reason? For if it prosper, none dare call it ‘treason’” – Sir John Harrington 

The lingering taste of delicious fresh pasta, seasoned with freshly cracked black pepper, fresh herbs, garlic and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese, eaten to the accompaniment of a mandolin played by a one-legged Roman beggar, is receding apace. Rome. What a few days that was. After sobering up Paddy Corkhill sufficiently to travel by air, we arrived in the Eternal City and, following a shower, were motored to a delightful restaurant where three men were waiting for us. 

Sean Jones QC and Professor Dominic Regan give Counsel a tour of the wine around this Christmas  

There is an enormous range of bottles out there this year. Here are some that we think you will be glad to have bought. 

After life on the circuit and (not far) beyond, la dolce vita beckons  

October 11, 2013: “All things atrocious and shameless flock from all parts to Rome” – Tacitus  

A London criminal barrister’s life has a pattern: a case at Snaresbrook, a plea at Inner London, a trek out to Harrow, something juicy at the Bailey, the joys of Woolwich. True, some buildings look increasingly ropey, the facilities in the Bar Mess diminish on an almost hourly basis, the coffee comes in larger cups at higher prices; but our interest does not come from these sybaritic niceties as much as the infinite variety of people that we meet.