Chaos theory explained

The sequelae of the Trial of Buller the Butler makes me wish I had paid more attention to Chaos Theory when it was all the go down the Bar Common Room. I know it has something to do with a butterfly’s wing but even an unreconstructed Luddite like me is vaguely conscious that I must be missing a bit. I think the gist of it was that cataclysmic consequences could result from insignificant events. It could be that an alleged minor theft will result in the collapse of a major institution but meantime aren’t some of the odd bits and pieces of information coming out interesting. The report of the (alleged) three hour conversation between Butler and Monarch discloses that he stood and she sat sipping coffee while they discussed, inter alia, his inclination towards suicide. You would think she would offer the poor guy a seat even if not a coffee. The fact that Crown Counsel was appointed partly because he was single so no danger of pillow talk, followed naturally, by total disclosure;  you just can’t trust the girlies.  Weirdest of all “the delight” of the Royal staff at discovering that they had to attend the annual Christmas Party dressed in the boss’s clothes. How do you think that would go down at your annual warm wine and M & S nibbles in the typing pool extravaganza.

Litigation opportunities abound

The USA continues to be a source of joy and wonderment for the infinite variety of its litigation. A $50,000,000 class action has been raised by a number of the nation’s chubsters against a food manufacturer for “emotional distress and nutritional damage” in that eating their products made them fat. What an exciting world of opportunities this development opens up. You could sue the brothers for that appalling buckie induced hangover, your parents for your genetic inheritance of misplaced hair, none on your head, forests in your ears and any one of a variety of deities for just about anything.

There is apparently a serious, if obscure point in these proceedings insofar as they relate to inadequate or misleading product labelling and here the parties have my sympathy for I too have been the victim of grossly misleading labelling, the details of which are too indelicate to repeat. Suffice it to say that you should never ever believe that the promise on a proprietary medicine to “deal with the problem of trapped wind gently and discreetly” means that the offending vapours will seep odour free out of your pores. Be assured that the traditional method of disposal will ensue but with a vigour that will cause emotional distress to anyone within a five-mile radius.

Labelling judges

While on the subject of labelling the appointment of two new Senators surely affords an unmissable opportunity for our Supreme Court to tap into the Zeitgeist, become more accessible to its end users and generally just rock a bit more.  Given what appears to be an increasing tendency for their Lordships to adopt a nom de guerre redolent of past or present holiday destinations how about abandoning those recherché corners of this rain sodden country and going for something that reaches out to those who submit to your judgment.  Consider for example Lord Benidorm or Lord Blank of Palma Nova, not quite as bling bling as Lord Ayia Nappa but rocking wouldn’t you say.

Judicial language

Finally on judges who have as usual over the last month or so been astonishing us with their pronouncements and amusing us with their penetrating shafts of wit, let’s hear it for Lord Bingham, to him the Palme D’Or for his comments in an interview with Boris Johnston when discussing the creation of a Supreme Court. Asked whether his fellow judges might miss the best club in London, the bars, the libraries our Senior Lawlord replied “I don’t give a f*** whether we are peers or not”.

Coming from a background where the only experience of that word in my formative years was when it was scrawled on a wall usually in conjunction with the Spiritual Leader of the Catholic Community or some long dead king of Dutch extraction depending on whether the wall was in Parkhead or Bridgeton, it was a bit of a facer to discover it dropping with such easy familiarity from the lips of an uber toff. On reflection, however, it struck me that this admirably robust judicial language could have a place in our own Sheriff Courts and where better than in the testosterone charged atmosphere of the Commercial Court in Glasgow where sheriff’s kick ass, chew baccy and spit. The great leap forward constituted by the telephone case conference could gain even more cutting edge status by following Lord Bingham’s example. In future exchanges could perhaps go something like this

Agent:  “Would your Lordship continue this case for two weeks for further adjustment?”

Sheriff:  “Would I ****.  Close and Proof.”