What to wear? Men always have this dilemma. So to all you sexists out there who go on about women faffing around with their appearance, I tell you men are much worse.
No matter whether it was my father in the past, or my partner now, there is so much preening and trying on, and looking in the mirror, it is unbelievable.
In fact when we lived in a bedsit thing in Sydney, there was an extremely large mirror in the communal hallway. And who ALWAYS looked in it? Not me.
So the choice for jury service was, shorts and T-shirt and hope to be rejected for being too scruffy, or trousers and jacket, to conform with respecting the law?
There was no dress code on the
invitation letter summons. Reluctantly the shorts and T-shirt came off and the trousers and shirt went on. (Shirt a new cast-off gift from our neighbour who can’t get into lots of his clothes).
The jacket was the next discussion. I’d told him it could get quite cold sitting in court. I mean OK, I was talking about the UK more than 20 years ago, but still, I remember sitting there in the press box, wrapped up in a huge coat and with freezing cold fingers struggling to write shorthand. Gib may possibly not be quite as cold – unless of course they have air-conditioning.
He rejected the Goretex and went for the Cerruti. For those fashionistas out there, the trousers were Hugo Boss.
Off he goes. No breakfast because he had an upset stomach. And this is just a potential juror, imagine if he had been on trial!
‘Which door do I use?’ he asked.
‘It’s the Supreme Court, dear. The front door on Main Street. Not the back door for magistrates and low lifes.’
‘Put some beer in the fridge for when I get back.’
The place was heaving. Most people were hanging around outside the courts having the obligatory fag, and those were just the jurors and lawyers.
He started chatting to another juror. They were both carefully avoiding the smokers.
‘With any luck we’ll get told to lárgete,’ said the Gibbo. (Lárgete = go away).
Next up it was Christmas raffle time. Or might as well have been. All our jurors were handed a piece of paper randomly. With a date for when they had to appear.
So, everyone had been ordered to attend today at 10am, and was then given a different date. What a fucking waste of time. Seriously.
You are hereby summoned to attend at the Supreme Court … to serve as a juror and to remain in attendance at the court from day to day until you are discharged.
is not the same as, please turn up at 10am to get a different date. The dates handed out to people were not the same ones, there was a variety of dates. I mean why not just notify people in the first place of the actual date they will be needed? Instead of pissing them about.
Section 161 of the Criminal Procedure Act blah blah person who fails to attend … is liable to be fined.
That’s all well and good. But – the irony here is that no-one was asked for their name. There was no register, no signing, no all present and correct. I could have turned up and got a bit of paper as far as that goes.
More to the point, if you hadn’t turned up – who would know? Who knows who is due to be at the trials on 3rd, 10th and 17th of December?
That seriously seems to be a cack-arsed and totally disorganised way to go about organising a jury. How can you prosecute someone for failure to attend if you don’t even know they are there?
He came in and rapidly ripped off the Boss and Cerruti and went back to shorts and T-shirt.
All dressed up and nowhere to go.