Tag Archives: the good wife

Jury service

I’ve been thinking a lot about jury service. This is because I’ve been watching far too many episodes of ‘The Good Wife’,

 and now think I know how to influence a jury. I don’t. I have no idea. If I were in a jury I would spend most of my time trying not to fall asleep and wondering what the judge was wearing under their gown. Not in a creepy way, just as a point of interest. Is it pajamas? Or are they wearing a suit? Are they allowed to control the temperature of their courtroom? Because if I were a judge, I’d just crank the heating up skyhigh and sit comfortably in my underwear. The positives to this would be enormous. Firstly, I’d save my clothes from everyday wear and tear. Secondly, I’d reduce my morning routine by half. Thirdly, it would be metaphorically and literally apt that those in the stand should sweat.

I can see no downside whatsoever to my plan.

I assume that in order to be a judge one has to perform at least one session of jury service, so I’m keen to get mine out of the way. (I imagine you also have to take a few classes on gavel banging and wig wearing; but I can slot those in later). I am already totally prepared for my jury service. I will begin by saying nothing, and cultivating an air of mystery and wisdom. This will be easy, because I will be peering intently at the judge, trying to work out what sartorial choices he has made. When it comes to the crucial decision making debate, I will emerge from my shell of mysterious wisdom and quietly make my pronouncement. Which will be received with the gravitas it deserves, and followed by everyone. Like I said, I imagine jury service is the main training ground for our judges. I wonder if I can attend in my underwear?

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This is my beach. Please leave. Thank you.

The Zen Approach has just been trademarked. No, honestly. I should have written, the Zen Approach™. The copyright to ‘Zen Approach‘ (I am feeling decidely less Zen every time I have to scrabble around to superscript) is currently owned by a chap called George Pitagorsky, PMP. I don’t know what you have to do to get PMP after your name, but if George and 50cent both have it, I’m pretty certain it’s worth having. Anyway, I love love love the thought that you can just claim things as your own. (Quick look round the office as I’m not going to be coming back here).

1. When I was a child, I met up one Summer with a friend in Cannes. We had lunch (this was during the glory years, when I was allowed to order a plate of chips for my main meal. Looking back, I realise my parents were just cheap. And that I probably have scurvy), and after lunch we went for a swim on the beach. A PRIVATE BEACH. I’m pretty much a lawyer*, so please follow these instructions to claim your own private beach:

1. Find suitable beach. I suggest something with a nice historical overtone, like Bondi. Or Normandy.

2. Erect sign on chosen beach. Please do not make sign offensive. Something like, ‘This is my beach. Please leave. Thank you’.

3. Have a splendid time on your beach, undisturbed by people who look better in their swimsuits than you do.

*I have watched SEVERAL episodes of ‘The Good Wife’.

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