Secret diary of a county court usher aged 59¾
Date: 09 February 2007
Authors: John Fortgang
Issue: Vol 157, Issue 7259
Categories: Blogs, Environment
Monday
As anticipated in previous diary disappearing circuit judge replaced by wandering part-timers, of which first appeared today. Typical pinstripe-suited barrister, arrived at one minute to 10, demanding instant room service and showing little interest in what he should do. Immediately picks up phone and starts to call his clerk, clients, the bookmaker and, for all I know, his mistress and his dog. Hover by door to try and draw his attention to pile of court files on desk and queue of litigants becoming increasingly restive outside. But, like most barristers of my acquaintance, does not respond to hints. Wonder whether to send in one of the district judges, but feel on balance would not achieve anything as DJs always impressed by any member of higher judiciary—however temporary—and will only do what they’re told. Only alternative is to call for court manager Jade. But doubt whether even she would have influence since most barristers are trained at early age to withstand blandishments of opposite sex unless it suits their purpose. Only way to deal with matter is to bring in first case and hope that barristers involved are able to deal with one of their own kind, which they probably are.
Tuesday
Can tell fromDJs’ demeanour today that they have been watching the ‘Dreaded Deed’ on television. Male DJ always imagines senior civil servants from Department of Confusing Affairs have sneaked into his court to spy on him, and if he had a mistress no doubt hopes she would appear before him. As male DJ would not recognise a mistress if one leapt over his desk and bit him, this is unlikely. Lady DJ—who for all I know may have male equivalent of mistress—behaves as if whole world is against her (which it usually is) and tears to pieces all who appear before her. Presumably this is because the Dreaded Deed is a man and she thinks there should be a programme about a sexy female judge ie her. Shouldn’t be surprised if she is applied to go on Big Brother as no doubt she believes she could cope with any kind of house mate which would make interesting viewing.
Wednesday
Excellent piece of confusion today. Case involving minor road accident listed before male DJ this morning. Male and female drivers, both represented by counsel. Hearing takes all morning. DJ gives judgment for male driver. Go into his room afterwards. He, full of himself, says he knows his decision was correct, how he gave clear and firm judgment and it is satisfying when you get it right etc.
In afternoon surprised to see same parties present, different counsel, this time before lady DJ. At end of afternoon, when case finished, go into her room. She equally full of herself, has no doubt that lady driver was in the right. Says she gave clear and firm judgment, rather satisfied etc. Tell her that same parties before male DJ this morning, didn’t she know, didn’t anybody tell her? She says that at end of case male driver muttered something about a different decision that morning, but she took no notice—she takes little notice of anything litigants tell her—and how could this have happened? She storms off to male DJ. Listen through door as he accuses her of treating case as appeal from him: how dare she come to different conclusion; what does she think she’s playing at? She accuses him of ignoring the evidence and coming to sexist conclusion. Tiptoe quietly away, deeply satisfied.
Thursday
Court manager Jade, usually wearing pink, today clothed in green, not her colour at all, making her look like large bean. Ask why. This innocent question unleashes a torrent of words like global warming, greenhouse gases and climate change. Appears that Department of Confusing Affairs now wants everyone to ‘think green’. Ask if I too am expected to dress like piece of garden. Fortunately not, but have to encourage punters to sit, or rather stand, around in semi-darkness, shivering in winter and sweating in summer—not that there is any air-conditioning, perish the thought. Presumably this includes judiciary, so remind Jade that lady DJ comes to work in hubby’s giant four-by-four, and should we not be discouraging her by taking away her parking space? Jade agrees this is good idea and arranges to place official sign outside, forbidding the parking of anything bigger than a bicycle, which will please DJ not at all.
Friday
Today’s part-time judge—officially known as a recorder, presumably because all they can do is listen to what everybody else says then repeat it—is at other end of scale to Monday’s effort. He sidles in long before needed, looks furtively around, asks timidly if I am “Mr Usher” and, if so, would I mind telling him: where to sit; what he should wear; what time the case starts; what it is all about; who is appearing before him; what time he should finish; and—I suspect would also appreciate—what the result should be. I do my best, taking pity on this poor man. Find out that case is complex but boring, about some building contract with earnest counsel on both sides laden with huge ring-binders of evidence and armies of witnesses, due to last all next week. Assume recorder will be happy to hear all this because he is apparently paid by the day and will therefore go home with shed load of cash. Instead he appears about to cry. Get him and all parties into court and leave them to it. At lunch go into his room to find him packing his bag, obviously intending to leave. Ask what he is doing. He says, in between sobs, that he doesn’t understand a word they’re saying to him, that he never wanted to be a lawyer let alone a judge, it’s all a big mistake and he just wants to go home to mummy. Only people happy with this outcome are lawyers in case who see large fees getting even larger.
John Fortgang
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