Wednesday, 26 August 2009


Swiss is a law abiding soul. Ever since he was caught stealing his neighbours car and joy riding at the age of 5, ram raiding the local sweet shop for gobstoppers and licorice laces, he has been a good boy. He is unsure if it was the bollocking he got from Dixon of Dock Green, or the way his dear old pater took his belt to him, but suffice it to say, since then Swiss has been good.

Any transgressions have been either minor, or undetected. He did nick the toy fire engine from under the nose of one of his classmates at nursery school, and he did try passing off a cardboard 5p in a sweet shop while at Junior school, but on the whole, if you are looking for good, law abiding and exemplary behaviour, Swiss is your man.

Last night, whilst meeting a friend for a chat, he was waiting in McDonalds. It was a HUGE place, and Swiss suspecst that they were expecting Jesus to turn up because there was seating for 5000. Swiss selected a table in the deepest reaches of the place because the friend had some juicy gossip to impart and didn't want to be overheard. That, and the screaming kids everywhere but the dark corner seemed to help persuade him to go there.

So, Swiss is there, all alone and looking towards the entrance. And in walk one of Blunkets plastic bobbies. Flak jacket, stab proof vest, handcuffs, truncteon, tazer gun, machine gun and notebook to take down particulars.

Trust me, Swiss has a very healthy opinion of the police. He likes them. He admires them. He sometimes wonders why he didn't become one, because where respect is due, they are up there with doctors, nurses and Baby Spice. And here is the dissapointing thing.

Swiss avoided eye contact and tried to slink down in his chair to avoid being noticed. All because although Swiss knew he had done no wrong, PC Plastic could find a million and one ways to arrest him. Terrorist, maybe, he could be waiting for his 'contact' to arrive before going to blow something up, whats in his bag, where has he been, why does he look suspicious, why is he sitting all alone, why is he wearing a bulky jacket, etc etc.

Admittedly, PC Plastic looked across, and wandered off. (He may have only been looking for a table to sit down at to eat his Happy Meal)

But Swiss is dissapointed. Why did he behave that way. Why did he feel vulnerable. What a shocking state of affairs.

He had left his machete at home, sold all his drugs, parked legally, worn gloves and left no dabs at the scene, and managed to wash off all traces of Cemtex.

What a bloody stupid f***ing travesty, when the innocent are made ot feel guilty.

Swiss is seriously pissed off with it all.

Monday, 10 August 2009

Chambers are missing a trick

There currently seems to be a bit of a backlash against the Pupillage system flowing through various blogs and friends I speak to. (OK, I don't have any friends but if I did they would tell me how bad it all is)

For my part, I am bemused by it all. It has been hammered into my head, time and time again, that I am not to make the sacred ground of Barristership. All the signs were there, and all were ignored in search of something to be able to look back on life and say I made it to the top.

Nevertheless, I am as happy as a pig in shit and therefore not beaten down or upset by it all.

I will continue to make applications, because it seems like a bit of a game, but to be honest, when far more worthy individuals than good old Swiss are being turned down, there is little hope left.


Earlier today, I was in Court. I was helping a poor unfortunate that needed me to hold their hand. I enjoy doing it, because it helps them. They are scared and frightened to go to Court, but are left with no choice.

Today, maybe for the first time, I felt the deepest loathing and hatred of their opponent. I wanted to stab their eyes out with a rusty nail. As for their Solicitor, rusty nails were too good for them. And it struck me, the Bus Stop Rule is one hell of a good reason to not want to be a Barrister. If I am helping someone, and they rub me up the wrong way, I can walk away, adios tosser, do it yourself because Swiss is pissed off with you. That freedom is worth a lot, especially when you see opposition like today. I have seen many a client that I could never in a month of Sundays assist. Presumably I would be disbarred if I had them as a client and had poked their eyes out with a rusty nail. If it ever happens, Swiss will let you all know.


Anyway, to the point of my post. Last week I asked the very bright and capable Andropov of fame to do a little job for me. (I should point out that she did once tell me how to put links in posts, but sorry Andropov, I wasn't listening properly)

You will now notice at the top of my Blog that my little award from Minxy is displayed like a poster on a little boys bedroom wall. I just had to have it there to show off, and remind me of my place. Contender for awards, but not giver of awards. Hence the picture for this post. It isn't as far as I know Andropov, although I hear she is a bit of a looker, but it is typical of posters that boys had on their bedroom walls when Swiss were a lad.

Andropov set up this blog, in exactly the design I wanted. No fuss, no bother, no flowers or nothing. She just did the job, smiled, and got on with things. She has also designed the incredibly clever site for Minxy (Andropov, I will listen if you tell me again how to do it, but don't tell me in HTML code like last time. Simple step by step guide in English will be best. Write it slowly, you know I can't read fast)

Admittedly, Minxy's blog has more bells and whistles than Swiss's, but she obviously learnt a lot doing this blog before embarking on her pride of place Blog.

So, Chambers are missing a trick. Come on Swiss you old fart, get on with the story. (Its like listening to Ronnie Corbet at times) Some of the websites are atrocious. Awful sites. What they need to do is give Andropov a Pupillage on the condition that she redesigns their site for them.

Thanks Andropov, you have my never ending thanks for setting up the blog, and keeping it running like a well oiled machine. Don't forget to let me know when you visit old smokey London and I will treat you to dinner at Inner. Forget Minx's tedious comments about their baked potatoes. She joined the wrong Inn and is just trying to make herself feel better about it.