Letter from Justice Nicholas Brown QC

Justice Nicholas Brown QC

The Queen’s Chambers

Hooke Court

Chancery Lane

Mr Gilmour

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?

Exhibit a)


Pickwick Pudding

Duck and orange terrine

Lobster Ossoco

Poulet roti au cresson with not-so curly kale

Sundries and denominations

Petits fours

Les digestifs

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.


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