Sawyer the Lawyer

The fish supper from the Crispy Cod was even worse if anything. When I complained about it Mother said she thought I’d said I was going to call in there to show them how to make batter. I didn’t want to go into detail about what had happened the other day so I just told her they were shut when I went and I hadn’t had the chance since. Then I asked her why she hadn’t checked out all the other chipshops in the area. She said she hadn’t seen the point if I was going to teach them how to make batter at the Crispy Cod.

I couldn’t eat the fish supper. I said so. Father, who hasn’t got my palate and will eat anything, put down his knife and fork for long enough to give me the old one that a starving African would eat it. I told him if he did he’d still be a starving African because as soon as he’d eaten it he’d bring it all back up again.

Mother made me a home-cooked roast ham sandwich with home-made piccalilli then I went out and spent the rest of the evening driving round looking for a chipshop that wasn’t Chinese. There weren’t any. All seven, within a four mile radius, were Chinese, except for one that was Indian, the Bhaji and Haddock or something. Whether Indians have as much trouble frying fish as Chinese I don’t know but when I got back I suggested to Mother that she might try it. She said she would.


Sawyer the Lawyer


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We finished work for the Christmas holiday today. As far as I know Needham, Needham & Anderson have never had an office party, instead we always used to go out for a meal and a few drinks at a nearby pub. Until Christmas 2005 that is, when Ancient Mr Nesbitt shit himself. I, along with Ifield, argued with Old Mr Nesbitt that just because his father had disgraced himself shouldn’t mean that the rest of us had to be denied the annual treat, but our argument cut no ice at all.

This being the case Mr Anderson, Ifield, Miss Barton and I repaired to the pub on our own and at our own expense, the others, Mr Shithouse and Mrs Hargreaves, and the Needhams of course, declining to join us for their own good reasons, especially Ancient Mr Needham. I was surprised to find Miss Barton in our company as being a lesbian she usually has as little to do with men as possible but I was soon to find out the reason she’d chosen to join us.

While Mr Anderson was at the bar getting a round of drinks prior to our meal she suddenly turned to me and asked me what I was doing on the 29th. Guardedly, not wishing to commit myself to anything I might later regret, the woman is a lesbian after all, I said I wasn’t sure. Because if you’re not doing anything I’d like you to do me a favour, if you don’t mind, she went on. Well it wouldn’t be the loan of my razor to shave under her arms I supposed, otherwise why specifically the 29th, but before I could ask her why she craved my company on that date she told me. I have to visit my Aunt Julia, she said. My quite well off Aunt Julia. Who is well into her seventies and thinks the sun shines out of my bottom. The thing is, the last couple of times I’ve visited her I got the distinct impression that she’s beginning to have doubts about my sexuality, and she’s a bit old-fashioned about that sort of thing, and unless I can convince her that I’m a hetero bang might go my chances of being looked on favourably in her will. So when I go to see her on the 29th – it’s only Knutsford – I need to have my boyfriend with me. And I was wondering if you’d do the honours?”

There was no way I was going to do it. I haven’t got a girlfriend at the moment but if I had it would have to be someone I had some sort of chance of shagging after not too long, life’s short enough as it is. But she is a work colleague after all, plus the fact that if I’d turned her down out of hand I might never have got any typing done any more, so I said I’d love to, and was about to follow this up with ‘ but unfortunately I’ve just remembered I’m doing something else that day’ when Ifield suddenly blurted out ‘I’ll take you’. (I think I’ve mentioned before that it is Ifield’s ambition to shag Miss Barton, and obviously here was the ideal opportunity) Anyway Miss Barton thanked him kindly and the upshot is that she and Ifield will be Knutsford bound on the 29th. Good luck to them.

Sawyer the Lawyer


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For my first job today I did some more work on Mr Jameson’s divorce proceedings.

Law firms charge for their services by the hour. The law firm of Nesbitt, Nesbitt & Anderson charge £60 per hour but top city firms can charge up to a £100 an hour or even more. The system for recording charges is simplicity itself. A log is kept by each solicitor in the practice in which he records the time spent working on the files of his various clients. Typically the log looks like this: –


Feb 8 2006

Mr G Baker 9.00 – 9.30

Mrs O.T. Threlfall 9.30 – 9.45

Mr J Jones 9.45 – 11.00

etc etc etc


For example on completion of Mr G Baker’s case all the entries in the log for Mr G Baker will then be added up and his bill made out. It is a system based on trust, and as such is wide open to abuse. For instance in the example above who is to say that the solicitor worked on Mr Baker’s file from 9.00 until 9.45 and didn’t work of Mrs Threlfall’s file at all that day?

By and large though, and certainly at Nesbitt, Nesbitt & Anderson, the system is adhered to honestly, although personally, whenever I need a shit, I always make a point of having it in a rich client’s time rather than a poor client’s. I think this must be the Robin Hood in me coming out.

On occasion though the system isn’t followed to the letter. As is the case with Mr Jameson and his divorce proceedings. When we met four weeks ago we recognised each other immediately. I recognised Mr Jameson as the physics teacher who used to make my life hell. He recognised me as one of the many hundreds of former pupils he’d taught over the years – but, unfortunately for him, not as the pupil whose life he had made hell.

I finished work on Mr Jameson’s file at 9.30, thirty minutes work, but I billed him for four hours. For the next three and a half hours I worked on five different files for which Nesbitt, Nesbitt & Anderson’s fee will be precisely nothing. Mr Jameson’s divorce is going to be very expensive.

Sawyer the Lawyer.


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“I’ve called to show you how to make batter,” I said to the Chinese man behind the counter at the Crispy Cod.

“Wha?”

I opened the cookery book at the ‘how to make perfect batter’ page and showed it to him. “Your batter is not up to scratch, you need to know how to make it properly.”

“Wha?”

It was my idea for Mother to do it, but she had refused point blank. Would a Chinaman drop in at our house to tell her how to make chicken chow mein, she asked? I told her he wouldn’t have to, she made an excellent chow mein, better than most Chinamen’s chow mein, whereas the Chinaman in question is about as much good at making batter as I am at synchronised knitting. She wouldn’t have it though. I can’t say I was surprised, she’s been suspicious of the Chinese ever since she did her back in doing Tai Chi.

I made efforts to get over my communications problem with the Chinese fish fryer. I put the book on the counter, pointed at the colour photo of the perfectly fried battered fish in the book, gave a big smile and smacked my lips. Then I pointed at the half dozen or so insipid-looking fish huddled together in greasy warmth in his chip range, pulled a face and held my nose.

“Wha?” he said again.

I was about to give up but at that moment a Chinaman wearing a Manchester City football shirt came in.

“I wonder if you can help me,” I said to him. “I’m trying to explain to the man behind the counter that his batter leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Kwok,” said the man, turning to the Chinaman behind the counter.”

“Wha?”

“This man say your batter is shit.”

“Fuck me! I could have said that!” I protested. “Jesus wept, I was trying to go about it a bit delicately.”

“Wha marrer with barrer? If you no like barrer fuck off you cunt.” said the Chinaman, reaching for a cleaver.

I got out of there sharpish. I know when a timely exit is called for. Driving home I reflected that if our Chinese friends were only to exhibit the same propensity for making batter as they had for learning our swear words there wouldn’t be a problem.

Sawyer the Lawyer


Divorce – Conveyancing – Probate – Insurance – Mortgage – Malpractice – Fraud – Wills – Litigation – Personal Injury – Rent and Debt Collection

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