badboybarrister: self-unemployed

OK so, days at the self-employed Bar can go something like this:

Get up late, realise you've no clean socks or ironed shirts, go to court tired, run around like a headless chicken, deal with ten cases involving a smattering of urchins and ne'er do-wells and earn a bit of brass. Maybe a proper lunch if you're lucky, perhaps a glass or two after work. Then it's home or stay late in chambers, prep for the morning and the cycle starts again.

However, on ocassions they can also go like this:

Despite fully prepping a trial in readiness for the following day, the imbecilic retards at the court listing office take it out at the last minute the night before because they have over-listed. Your day then becomes:

A lie in (bonus), eggs on toast, mid-morning coffee, watch Philip and Holly whilst sat in your pants checking on-line shopping. Then perhaps go out, buy random DVD's and clothes, maybe meet a pal for a nice lunch. You then wait to see what hideous cases by way of returns are coming your way for the following day e.g. two bench warrants in Carlisle, last in the list. In any event, you usually spend about £100 quid and, basically, you have earned £0.

You also, as you can see, finally have some spare time to update your blog.

The inverse relationship between how much money you earn at the Bar on a particular day and how much you spend is a curious feature. Virtually all Barristers will tell you that I bet. It's a bit like the last Labour Government - the less you've earned or the less you have, the more you feel like spending it. Until the inevitable financial meltdown obviously, in which I imagine case you bugger off and blame er, well anybody else really.

The closest I've got to a theory is that it's a combination of boredom and denial. Of course, I could go into chambers and do some "work" to stop this spiral - but where's the fun in that? There is an equally bizarre relationship it seems between how much pressing work I have to do and how much I bugger about and waste time. How many times can I check my emails in a day? Or go out for coffee? Or check my belly-button for fluff? Bluish grey - every time - ever noticed that?

For some reason despite being in my 30's, when I get an unexpected day out of court I get that feeling like you did when you were a small child in the Winter and the heating broke at school and you couldn't go in...

Unless you went to boarding school, in which case the games master probably came in to warm you-up or something..

badboybarrister: I'm guessing this is not allowed...

Ok. So you turn up to do a trial. Highly professional blah blah as usual. Mr neanderthal, non-descript thug is charged with random violence. He's all kind of, well 'big', with tattoos and a shaven head and wears bright white trainers (with some unattributed skin and blood-staining on them, obviously) whilst grunting incomprehensibly. Stone Island jacket, bad temper, folds of skin on the back of his neck and lots of form.

Behind him, in due course no doubt, will trail Donna, Tracy, Shaznay or Britney or whatever the name of his current 'bird' is - met whilst of course he was working on the doors. She'll be skinny, moody, lank hair, with four kids of various hues, outstanding court fines and a crack habit. And possibly herpes. Less heroin chic more - well, heroin skank. You get the idea? This scene plays out time and time again and has done every day of every year since I've been at the Bar - except today. Oh no, not today..

I thought it must be an illusion at first. She was tall, elegant, with soft brown hair, delicate porcelain skin and an utterly enchanting smile. Almost feline features. Her name was Francesca. Francesca?! She was a teacher. A job?! She was beautiful. My God was she beautiful. Softly spoken, polite and with eyes I could curl up and die in. Not just 'ooh, she's quite nice' pretty but you know, properly 'oh my, I feel physical pain and need to lie down' beautiful. She must be an interpreter? A police officer? No, wait, a journalist? No. Dear God no.

She goes out with - with him?!

Yes that's right. I'm in love with a gangster's Mrs. A punter's moll. His 'childhood sweetheart' no less. I imagine if he knew it would be slightly hazardous to my health. And ever so slightly unprofessional. On my part that is. On reflection, I decided not to tell him.

So, whilst us normal blokes are worrying how we meet the woman of our dreams and then, how we keep her, retard-boy here obviously keeps his relationship with this gorgeous creature sweet by stamping on people's skulls every 2 or 3 years. Super. Priceless. I could have cried. I think I did in a quiet moment.

Needless to say, the Bar Standards Board website and accompanying manual (the compendious and largely useless Professional Ethics section)does not have a section entitled 'What to do if you really really fancy your lay client's girlfriend'. It should have. Maybe I'll write one? Step One: Sink to your kneess, Two: Remove book of poetry, Three: Get very badly assaulted..

Anyway, as the title suggests and despite my still beating heart, I'm guessing this is just not allowed. Sigh.

True love is never easy eh? Our children would have been so cute...

badboybarrister: cut to the quick

Phew. Well, the emergency budget has come and gone without Armageddon.

The next threat, to the publicly funded Bar at least, is the Autumn spending review.

For review read massacre. If, as is suggested, every Department is going to have its budget cut by 25% then we at the Bar can expect trouble. If the public have to choose between lovely teachers, cuddly nurses or apparently fat, overpaid Barristers who do you think will win? Perhaps we need some strong leadership and positive noises coming from the CBA and Bar Council about the importance of Legal Aid practitioners.

Sorry, I forgot myself there for a minute. What a ridiculous suggestion.

The most recent announcement by the Ministry of Jihad did not 'rule out' further cuts to Advocates' fees. That of course is over and above the 13.5% unilateral cuts already made. If I didn't trust them so implicitly, I'd say they were winding up for further cuts.

BBB recommends learning a new skill to improve future prospects or maybe looking for an alternative career.

Apparently, there is a vacancy for a job as PR officer with the FA and Team England. Must have experience of defending the indefensible and the very guilty etc. etc..

badboybarrister: fraud + sweat = fret..

Obviously along with impending doom, being trussed up with a wig and gown does wonders for one's mood in this weather. Add to that a healthy paunch, a large pile of briefs and a variety of hills and one quickly has either a 'bead-on' or a damp undercarriage. Nobody likes damp briefs...

When the air conditioning cuts out in the middle of a Crown Court trial - that's a week long fraud trial by the way - one's mood is obviously improved. Maybe Jack Straw forgot to feed the meter before he left? Ken Clarke obviously doesn't have any loose change.

Perhaps on Fridays the Bar could have a dress down policy? I quite fancy robustly cross-examining a copper whilst dressed in Bermuda shorts and flip-flops. Equally, to improve discipline they could make it like school e.g. If you forget your wig and gown you have to give your closing speech in your Y-fronts.

Anyway, fraud trials are like sticking pins in your eyes at the best of times. Looking like I have a sponge srapped under my armpits which is soaking through my shirt surely can only add to the excitement the jury are experiencing. With awesome foresight I only have a selection of pastel coloured tunic shirts clean at the moment as well. Hmm, light blue with royal blue sweat patches today or light purple with mauve patches?

If I can't be bothered cross-examining the defendant tomorrow I think I'll just unbutton my jacket. That'll teach him to run a trial.

PS - BBB thinks Ken Clarke could be the 'Susan Boyle' style 'big-personality' the Criminal Bar can embrace to drive up morale.

His plans include a new series called 'MoJ's Got Talent'. It used to be called 'The Lord Chancellor's Department Has Got Talent' but Charlie Falconer thought the title was a little cumbersome.

Previous winners include Vera Baird QC pole-dancing and Willy Bach eating twelve scotch-eggs in one sitting.

The new-series of 'The LSC Has Got Talent' has been cancelled. Repeats of Eldorado will now be shown instead.

(BBB has been on a rare holiday hence the gap in posting)

badboybarrister: election special

I believe lawyers generally shouldn't meddle in politics. That is of course unless the result of the election is potentially going to cost me several bottles of decent wine a week and lead to a substantially downgraded car and thus, in all likelihood, a substantially downgraded wife and mistress.

However as every other bugger will be commenting on it I thought I'd make a token effort for the sake of relevant blogging.

Essentially the choice for the Criminal Bar in particular is this:

Do we want to be buggered by the bloke we know or the new bloke?

Either way we are going to have to bend over and take one for the team in the name of austerity in public spending.

The proposed changes to the Criminal Justice System and to Legal Aid will inevitably be Civil Service led. To some extent it matters not who is in No.10.

As ever it is the well paid, faceless and grey-suited monkeys who will drive Criminal Justice policy. That is to say those fine men and women who never have seen, and never will see, the inside of a courtroom. That is unless and until they are charged with gross indecency or voyeurism.

Quite simply most Criminal Barristers will either have to buy a smaller house or sell their least promising child.

In passing, the total Legal Aid budget is around £2 billion a year. Government public spending is currently about £650 billion annually.

The MoJ (aka 'The Machine of Jihad') seeks to save the princely sum of £50 million a year from Barristers' fees via fresh cuts by way of what are termed efficiency savings. Sigh.

Just to put all that in context the UK's current national debt is about £900 billion with the interest on that sum in 2010 alone of about £40 billion. The NHS budget for 2010-11 is about £110 billion. The MoD budget for 2010-11 is about £37 billion.

So at least that sorts all that debt out then.

I'm off to join the circus. Or the CPS.

badboybarrister: opening speech

Ladies and Gentleman,

From this day forth I will undertake to bring to you the good, the bad and the downright filthy goings on of a life spent at the English Criminal Bar. From fee cuts to criminal hacks, dodgy punters to crusty Judges, bent coppers to bestiality and all the detritus that lurks in between.

I imagine when suitably oiled or even slightly provoked a variety of what are properly regarded as 'trade secrets' may flow from my lips. Undoubtedly, and when appropriate, these will be accompanied by suitable levels of exaggeration, hyperbole and plain old nonsense regarding this grand old and inevitably knackered profession.

The names have been changed to protect the very, very guilty. The choice of language and use of profanity is entirely my own work. The opinions expressed herein are also my own. Invariably they will be blatantly populist, self-serving and ill-informed.

But why, I hear you cry, why does My Learned Friend take the trouble to address us at such length?

Well, such is the level of discontent at the Criminal Bar today it seemed to me that the time had come for bravery. The time had come or a lone voice from the wilderness to cry "Enough!"

Such a voice would speak for truth. Such a voice would speak for justice. Such a voice would speak out against suffering and inequality in all its guises.

Sadly, I am not that voice.

I simply get annoyed by sweaty peadophiles in white socks and short trousers. I get annoyed by fat punters who would be too ugly to even get on Jeremy Kyle. I get annoyed at the thought of having to talk posh or having to roger a Judge senseless just to get on - or perhaps both at the same time.

So I just thought I'd share some of my thoughts with you.

Ill keep you posted.