William Byfield's Secret E-Diary

“The lights are beginning to go out for some, including the most able, all over the Temple - and not just the Christmas ones”

December 7, 2012: “A fool may be known by six things: anger without cause; speech without profit; change without progress; inquiry without object; putting trust in a stranger, and mistaking foes for friends” - Arabian Proverb

There is something wonderfully reassuring about public inquiries. First, we have a scandal; then we have embarrassed politicians who desperately want to kick the problem into the long grass; next there is the high-ranking judge lured into the public arena together with an army of barristers and solicitors; this is followed by months of public hearings where some advocates achieve minor cult status for a very short time and then, after a delay of weeks, months or sometimes years we get the report. Finally, we have the politicians’ response, in which they agree to do anything a clever civil servant could have told them to do in the first place and resolutely refuse to do that which they had no intention of doing from the kick-off. Predictably, whilst our courts fall apart around us and the facilities deteriorate below those of a run-down housing estate and the legal profession is squeezed and browbeaten, there is always plenty of money for these public circuses of utter pointlessness.

A joyous occasion is marred by a spectre at the feast

October 8, 2012: “The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men, Gang aft agley” - Robert Burns

I had hoped that my junior, Miss Henrietta Briar-Pitt would be working on the looming case of R. v. Jason Grimble, alleged co-murderer of Britain’s least popular former circuit judge, Claude Allerick, who was shortly to be tried at the Central Criminal Court by Claude’s successor from the judicial charisma by-pass section. Instead of which, I was ensconced in her equestrian pile, due to give her away to Mr Justice Pennington, batchelor knight, until, that is, recent dietary indiscretions caused a parting of her garments at an eve-of-wedding supper, prompting an apparent withdrawal from the nuptial event.

A nightmare in the woods; and time to give the publicly funded legal profession a sporting chance

August 13, 2012: “The only athletic sport I ever mastered was backgammon”
Douglas William Jerrold.

Filled with the joy of the Olympics, the hopeful young athletes from all over the world competing for honour and pride, I felt young again. Anthony Joshua, who won Great Britain’s final medal, a gold one, in boxing said he drew inspiration from King Leonidas, of “300 Spartans” fame. Whilst Leonidas lost his life and his entire force, his bravery became a rallying point for Greek success. I may be doing the commentator who was interviewing young Mr Joshua a disservice, but it sounded as though he just thought the boxer was rambling after a heavy match. Those of us who were forced to undergo a classical education knew otherwise.

Reflections on whether the Bar’s days as an independent referral profession are over

June 11, 2012: Where a man feels pain he lays his hand.
Dutch Proverb

A return to the Monsoon season together with overdoing it socially at a legal conference gave me a rather nasty chill, which has left one of those irritating coughs that will not quite go away. It is one of the peculiarities of human beings that whilst we are able to feel genuine sympathy for major disabilities, we simply cannot cope with minor medical irritations – either as patient or spectator.

Therefore, I decided yesterday that I should visit the quack. At my doctor’s surgery there are two kinds of reading material: one is in the form of rather basic posters with scary health tips and the other is in the form of light-hearted magazines, presumably to distract patients from fear of the impending consultation. We have only the latter in Chambers and have avoided police faces saying: “Don’t Steal!” or “Avoid Provocation!”

On the other hand, the medical profession has mastered its referral structure much better than the Bar. In my case a doctor could tell presumably that this was one of those hyper-sensitive throats following a chill. A small brown steroid inhaler and I could be packed off to Chambers safely. On the other hand, if I return in two weeks with the same nagging cough, the chances are I will be referred for x-rays or a scan or even a bronchoscopy. A third visit would make this inevitable. With the tests come the specialist consultants, and I would be transferred to their tender mercies until such time as the cause of the illness had been uncovered and I had received all available treatment or the medical profession had given up in bafflement.

And why would this be done? Because it is ingrained in the general practitioner’s very training. He or she understands and accepts the ambit and limitations of professional expertise and the need for referral at certain defined points to acknowledged experts in the field. And, to constrain the slightly less conscientious
practitioner, there is the General Medical Council to regulate whether appropriate referrals have been made.

When students of early twenty-first legal practice come to look at the corresponding referral mechanisms in publicly funded legal work, they will possibly be perplexed to discover how little of this referral ethos still exists in our world, particularly as publicly funded work includes people who are disadvantaged, less well-heeled and those with educational or social difficulties.

Adopting the medical analogy, we have no acknowledged recognition of what passes for a “condition” that requires referral to a barrister, or whether any condition would nowadays necessitate such a referral. At the same time, powerful forces act against referral: the financial interest of the referrer, and the lack of knowledge about referral by the client. Every patient a doctor sees has heard about consultants and knows he can ask to see one.

The profession has no rules as to what should necessitate such a referral and it is difficult to see whether the over-arching regulator has even recognized the issue, let alone considered guiding the profession and the public about it. Some even think that referral fees should be permissible, something so awful that it beggars belief that anyone claiming to act in the public interest could support it in a professional setting. And we have not even got on to the farce of costume confusion, now rampant in the Crown Court.

I told my doctor all this whilst he tried to stick what looked like an ice-lolly stick down my throat whilst wearing a baseball cap to which he had strapped a halogen light.

He beckoned me from the couch to his computer where a 3D anatomical model was revolving on his screen. He used his mouse to point to parts of my throat.
“You know your trouble?” he said. I looked vacant. “You talk too much!”
“You know what it is then?” I asked.
“You’ve got that curse of the gabbling professions - Clergyman’s Throat. Stop talking so much and it will get better!”

I travelled home relieved, but, this morning, the thoughts still nagged me, although I have kept the diary open and the mouth shut. If we still need a referral profession in law, then should not legal regulators be considering at the least when referral to counsel generally, and to leading counsel in particular, is appropriate and, indeed, necessary – particularly where vulnerable people are involved? On the other hand, if our day as an independent referral profession is done, isn’t it time we faced up to the fact? At the moment, in publicly funded law, we seem to have all the regulatory shackles of a referral profession and, increasingly, few of its advantages.

William Byfield is the pseudonym of a senior member of the Bar. Gutteridge Chambers, and the events that happen there, are entirely fictitious.

A yearning for the good old days when murder trials could be wrapped up in a fortnight and juries usually came to a verdict in a day

April 15, 2012: “Did you like her?” “Did I like her?” “Yes, that is the question.”                       
The opening of Frederick  Seddon’s cross-examination by Sir Rufus Issacs KC

Why do criminal trials take so long nowadays? The thought struck me as I re-read the trial of Frederick Seddon in Notable British Trials, – a wonderful series that some enterprising soul should resurrect, save that each major trial would now need 15 volumes.