Low life
Case studies
Jeffrey Bernard
Twice this past week I've been down to the Law Courts to look in on Taki and have lunch with him. How very different it all was compared to my own court appear- ances. They have always been rather squalid but Taki's case has been a sort of social event somewhat akin to an indoor garden party. A very expensive one too. The pub opposite, the George, is interest- ing too since everyone adjourns there-at lunchtime, plaintiffs and respondents. Two unpleasant things to see, though, are law- yers and people upset after nasty divorce proceedings. I can remember adding a few tears to my whisky in there 15 years ago. But, my God, doesn't the law drone on and on. It is a great comfort to me to have a criminal record and so be exempt from jury service and I can recommend kicking a car to anyone else who wishes to avoid it. The idea of having to sit there a good two hours into licensed time is quite horrific and also the reason I am not a bank clerk. But this jury I felt had really very little idea of what the high life is all about. They looked a little stupefied whereas it is well known• that readers of the Spectator always carry swimsuits in case they are suddenly invited to go on a Mediterranean cruise. A private one I mean. And oddly enough, just after lunch with Taki, I was invited to go and stay on a cruise boat which is tied up in Portugal. It could prove to be a race against time. The dunns are after me again.
But why are people so touchy about what is said about them? Most of us are being slandered every minute of the day. I once wrote a piece in Private Eye under a pseudonym libelling myself, and a woman in the Coach said to a colleague, 'Why don't you leave that Jeff Bernard alone? He's all right really.' I was deeply touched when I heard of it. All I had said was that I was a disgusting, pernod-addicted, comatose hack. I really can't see that that was damaging. A thing that does impress me though in the Law Courts is the fact that these banisters can actually remember what was said yesterday. All I can remem- ber about yesterday is having had a drink . with Michael Elphick.
But come to think of it I have sat on a jury of sorts and with Norman of all people. In both our cases someone was barred. One man was found guilty of never washing and another was set down for being boring. They are now in a sort of open prison in Dean Street called the Golden Lion. Anyway, I was very sad about not being called by Taki's counsel as a character witness. I could have told them how he once gave me the key to his wine cellar and you can't ask more of a man than that. It took two weekends to get through it. Speaking of which, with suit and tie on I was able to have a look in El Vino. Now that Philip Hope-Wallace and Maurice Richardson are gone I find it a rather gloomy place and bulging with yet more bloody lawyers. I suppose a lot of my dislike for these people stems from the fact that I have never been found not guilty of anything. Mind you I don't think I have ever pleaded not guilty to anything although I have implied diminished re- sponsibility to the occasional magistrate and once, in judges' chambers, a wonder- ful old man lent me a very sympathetic ear after hearing a brief resume of my life and soft times. I noticed he had the shakes too. But like El Vino they do like it if you dress up a bit for them. I also have a court appearance voice which is supposed to sound like Claude Rains in one of his sympathetic roles. Norman would get five years for his voice alone. Well, at the time of writing the jury are out deliberating this folly and for the umpteenth time of saying it to the editor I really do think Taki and I should swap columns.
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