Senin, 07 Mei 2012

Mr Justice Cocklecarrot and the Elf 'n' Safety Smurfs who had to escort 12 jurors across the road

Mr Justice Cocklecarrot and the Elf 'n' Safety Smurfs who had to escort 12 jurors across the road

By Richard Littlejohn

PUBLISHED: 17:16 EST, 7 May 2012 | UPDATED: 17:16 EST, 7 May 2012

A judge at Chelmsford Crown Court has been reduced to instructing jurors how to cross the road. After the jury was sworn in, their case was relocated to another building across the street.

Before they set off, Judge Christopher Ball QC told them: ‘I have to warn you for health and safety reasons to cross at traffic lights.’ And, as if to acknowledge the absurdity of this announcement, he added: ‘But you can make the decision to cross where you want to. You can’t be compelled to cross at the traffic lights.’

On further considering the evidence, however, he also said that court officials may not allow them to cross the road anywhere other than at the lights.  ‘I don’t know what the staff are going to do â€" let you cross the road or let you loose on the streets of Chelmsford.’

Cartoon

Cartoon

He might have guessed. Needless to say, the jury was corralled on its way out of the court and escorted across the street like a herd of unruly cattle.

Head ’em up, move ’em out. Keep them doggies rollin’. Rawhide!

The indignity of it all. Twelve grown men and women being treated like a pack of Brownies on a field trip. This way, Pee Whit Patrol.

It’s a wonder the court officials didn’t ring their mummies and daddies to come down and hold their hands.

‘Now listen carefully, boys and girls. Remember the Highway Code and pay attention to the nice lollipop lady. Look right, look left, look right again. And don’t step off the kerb until all the traffic has come to a complete standstill.’

I’m assuming the court official involved wore a hi-viz jacket. Every other public official, or quasi-official, seems to wear one these days â€" plastic plods, water board repair men, gas fitters, car park attendants, anyone with a clipboard. You can’t tell which is which.

There was a bloke directing traffic outside Spurs the other day, dressed from head to toe in hi-viz jacket, hi-viz trousers and hi-viz hat. If he’d applied hi-viz make up he’d have looked like a bright yellow, hi-viz Smurf.

Anyone who goes out without a hi-viz jacket is made to feel half-dressed. There’s a widespread belief that pulling on a hi-viz jerkin conveys some kind of instant authority, which must be unquestioningly obeyed at all times.

No self-respecting jobsworth would be seen dead without one. At the airports and in shopping malls, they’re even wearing hi-viz jackets indoors. There’s so much bright yellow on parade most days that viewed from the air the streets of Britain must resemble fields of rape seed.

Now even Mr Justice Cocklecarrot has fallen to the Elf’n’Safety Smurfs, forced to lecture 12 good men and true on the Green Cross Code.

The judge in this case was clearly alert to the preposterous n ature of the instructions he was being obliged to issue.

I suppose he could have just refused to read them out. But then he’d probably have had the riot act read to him by the chief elf’n’safety wallah at the Ministry of Justice.

You might think this is a trivial incident, but it’s a Bank Holiday Monday and I’ve got a column to fill. And, anyway, it’s always the small stuff which serves best to illustrate the insanities of modern officialdom.

Think about it for a moment. These 12 jurors had all managed to complete their journeys to the court that morning without taking a header under a delivery van or getting mown down by a maniacal motor cycle courier. They were all toilet trained and educated to varying degrees of accomplishment.

I’m guessing that they’d all received a grounding in basic road safety along the way. They had been summoned to weigh the evidence and deliver their verdict in what may well have been a complicated court case. Another human being’s liberty was placed in their hands.

Yet they couldn’t be trusted to cross the road on their own. As the judge put it, court officials couldn’t risk letting them loose on the streets of Chelmsf ord, just in case one or more of them did a Captain Oates.

I’m surprised they weren’t all forced to wear hi-viz jackets and hard hats and roped together like mountaineers attempting to conquer the north face of the Eiger.

Elf’n’safety is the catch-all excuse for this madness, but I suspect what really lies behind it is the terror that someone might accidentally stub their toe while ‘in the care’ of the court and launch an expensive lawsuit for damages.

A phone call to one of those spivvy whiplash specialists and it’s trebles all round.

That’s how we end up with Crown Court judges being forced to lecture jurors like air hostesses. They’ll be pointing out the fire exits next.

‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Your comfort and safety is our priority. So please pay attention to the pre-trial safety demonstration and make sure you read the important information in the leaflets provided.

â €˜We shall now adjourn for lunch, but before you leave the court, please ensure you have all your personal belongings with you.

‘When exiting the jury box, remember to mind the step and if you are planning to partake of lunch at the pub over the road, the court usher is waiting to escort you safely to your destination.

‘Please make sure you observe the Government’s healthy eating guidelines and drink alcohol in moderation. Finally, ensure you only cross at the traffic lights.

‘The Ministry of Justice cannot accept any responsibility for injuries sustained to any juror who walks out in front of a bus . . .’

Like Dustin Hoffman in Tootsie and Robin Williams in Mrs Doubtfire, Sean Bean appears in drag for his next role. Bean plays Tracie, a trans-sexual teacher in a new BBC courtroom drama.

Hoffman said he based his character in Tootsie on his mother. Sean Bean seems to have based Tracie on the outgoing Mirror newspapers chief Sly Bailey.

Sean Bean Sly Bailey

Lookalike: Sly Bailey and Sean Bean

It's Ground Control to Call Me Dave

David Cameron is bracing himself for further embarrassing revelations about his links with News International.

Downing Street is combing through text messages exchanged by the Prime Minister and former NI chief executive Rebekah Brooks, who will give evidence to the Leveson Inquiry on Friday.

Ex-News of the World editor and Cameron press adviser Andy Coulson will also appear before the inquiry. Who knows what he may reveal?

Call Me Dave set up the inquiry in a knee-jerk attempt to divert attention away from his close relations with News International. Now it has come back to bite him.

The problem with all these inquiries is that once they’re airborne no one can ever be sure where they’re coming down.

Cameron has lost radio contact. Who can tell what the collateral damage will be when it crashes back to earth?

The media/politico world is obsessed with Leveson. But beyond the bubble, no one is watching. Since the inquiry started in October, I don’t think I’ve had a single conversation with anyone outside newspapers about it.

I like to think my postbag is a pretty fair reflection of what interests Mail readers. I get hundreds of emails and letters every week. But, to the best of my recollection, I have received only one email about the Leveson Inquiry.

It arrived last week, after I wrote a spoof column imagining Leveson questioning the late newspaper proprietor Lord Beaverbook about his close links to Winston Churchill. The email came from the chap who used to conduct the guided tours at Beaverbrook’s old country house. Apart from that, nothing. Nada, zip, zilch.

Cameron has put the Press on trial and himself in peril for the sake of something in which the public has zero interest. If ever there was a case of ‘be careful what you wish for’, Dave, this is it.

Steve Perryman, the outstanding former Tottenham Hotspur captain, is in hospital in Exeter after emergency heart surgery. Stevie P was a loyal servant to Spurs and is one of football’s true gentlemen.

I know that all his friends, former team-mates and my fellow supporters will want to join me in wishing him a speedy recovery.

Vote for the super furry animals

The stand-out results for me after last week’s elections were not Boris’s victory in London or any of Labour’s gains.

In Edinburgh, a man dressed as a penguin and calling himself Professor Pongoo, polled more votes than the Lib Dems. And in Liverpool, the Conservative mayoral candidate was beaten by a Green campaigner dressed as a polar bear.

The current mayor of Hartlepool is Hangus the Monkey, mascot of the local football team.

Perhaps all our leading politicians should start dressing up as furry animals if they want to improve their electoral appeal.

The way things are going any candidate standing for either of the Coalition parties in a couple of years’ time would be hard pushed to beat Kermit the Frog.

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