Justice Nicholas Brown QC
The Queen’s Chambers
I write to recount the events of that fateful day, 17th May, 2011 when you were punished.
The day started off terribly. I awoke with a mild indigestion after a rather heavy curry the night before. Compounded by having kippers for breakfast, I must say I was in a rather ungainly mood for the morning session. But obligatio erga omnes I trooped in and sat on several unsavoury cases (though I would much rather have been at Cecil’s).
Come the recess and you can imagine that my appetite was on fire. But things did not go to plan. Indeed I knew something was awry as soon as they brought me the menu. Notice anything missing?
Duck and orange terrine
Poulet roti au cresson with not-so curly kale
Sundries and denominations
Wine: Mouton de Rothschild 1966
Savage Hill Cabernet Sauvignon 1992
Yes, of course you do. Never have I seen such decadent filth!
Following a frenetic salad, we were served a rather slight duck and orange terrine which set my nerves a quiver. The meat was flaccid and porky, rather than ducky, the sauce perky rather than pert, and the orange far too orangey. It almost returned on me. Next I had a minty sorbet without distinction. A plate of oysters which went down the wrong pipe and a lobster which had had all the taste terrified right out of it.
After choking on a very mediocre cab sauv, my thoughts turned to the chicken a la plum sauce. It was at this point that I saw a gaggle of civil servants approaching—
Cockerill the fool came over and started to speak some guff about his nephew going to topiary school.
I said, “Man! Don’t you realise that I am at lunch? How do you expect me to savour this lamb shank with you speaking in my lughole? Fuck off!”
True he turned heels and wandered away but that incident left a rather unsavoury taste in the mouth which was compounded by a leaky crème sauce. It was however the pungent smell of the poulet roti which really left me fighting for breath. Jimmy my boy I must confess I was in such low mood that I let rip a steely fart at the sight of that chicken a la plum. Après ça, the meringue and the mignardises- beignets were nothing more than an afterthought.
Porter was just wheeling in the digestive tray…and then the bell rang!
Well you can well imagine my indignation. I was mad!
To be quite honest the QC Curtis’s peroration wasn’t altogether bad. Capital attempt. Do commend him for that. But you know, Betty, with all the kerfuffle over lunch I was aflap. In amongst all that fluster and chaos I completely forgot that it was you and handed you the 16 months I’d intended for the other chap, the small one.
I’m sure you understand what a terrible trial it was for me…
Anyway no hard feelings, eh? I’ll take you for a slap-up supper at the Wolseley when you get out. Ah, speaking of suppers mine’s just arrived. Sixteen courses of delectation which send the mouth a-slaver. Quails eggs followed by a loin-tingling ruff of hamhock, a shitake surprise, mille-feuille from Cecil’s…
(note: I have abbreviated the rest)
Judge Justice Nicholas Augustus Brown
PS: don’t think of appealing.