Lawyer Language

Lawyer Language
As I have implied before, lawyers have a slight problem with their clients. Namely, we cannot force the idiots to do what they’re told. Even more depressing is that the order of command runs the other way. You INSTRUCT a lawyer. A lawyer may only ADVISE. As such, I cannot say “NO YOU MUPPET!” and slap a client across the face with a wet haddock. This is unfortunate. Most clients would benefit from some well applied haddock battering to protect them against the need for future quality time spent with the Hounds.

As such, lawyers are reduced to subtly trying to command clients. Unfortunately, some people would not recognise a subtle hint even if it were dropped on their head at a great height. Some would even consider assault with wet fish to be merely a suggestion. Therefore I have prepared an idiot’s guide to basic lawyer commands that may protect from future time with the Hounds.

I wouldn’t advise it
Means: NO BITCH! You will NOT do it. Ever, on pain of haddock!
Doesn’t mean: Of course you should do it. Please keep talking as if I have given a rousing endorsement.

We may have problems convincing a court
Means: LIAR! DIRTY ROTTEN LIAR!!! Tell the TRUTH or there will be wet fishing swinging in your direction! You’re not even a GOOD or convincing liar.
Doesn’t mean: Why yes, that’s such an interesting and credible explanation that I believe we should base our entire case around that point.

That could be ethically questionable
Means: Ew, NO! No WAY am I doing that or sitting silent while you try to pull that! Do not do that. Do not Pass Go. Do collect 200 angry Hounds.
Doesn’t Mean: Why you crafty devil, what a clever idea. We shall do that and hail you as the next Machiavelli. My career? No, don’t worry about a little thing like that, of course I’ll jeopardise it for you.

I/we can’t do that
Means: Y’know, it’s sad that this needs spelling out. It is Impossible. This cannot be done. No. Not doable, not thesable, not practical. It can’t be done in theory, it can’t be done in practice, it can’t be done in an alternate reality. There is no way, no possibility, none. No. Continue to question this and I will upgrade the haddock to a tuna and we’ll have to scrape you out the carpet.
Doesn’t Mean: What a great idea! My mind is so stunned by this idea that I want you to repeat it over and over until I hail it as a truly revolutionary plan and build a small shrine in its honour.

I would advise…
Means: Do it. Do it now, bitch! This is not optional or negotiable. Obey or be stunned with wet fish and fed to the Hounds, capice?
Doesn’t Mean: Oh, do ignore me, I’m just making random sounds to break the silence. No, please, don’t trouble yourself by listening, I would hate to taint your precious brain with knowledge.

Time is of the Essence/we need to act quickly/delay could be costly
Means: Do it NOW!!! Make a decision. Do what I tell you. Do it now! I will hit you with the fish every 10mins delay you cause until you eventually lose consciousness and the Hounds will be called in. MOVE IT!
Doesn’t mean: You now have several days, weeks, months or, hey, however long you want to actually stir your carcass and do this thing. Please feel free to delay as much as you want, no hurry. In fact, you can choose not to do it at all if you want, if that helps. Don’t mind the growling, the Hounds are just hungry.

Are you certain/sure? Would you like to reconsider? I urge you to reconsider.<
Means: NO. NO NO NO NO! Non! Nein! Nyet! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Doesn’t Mean: What a good idea. I applaud your genius.

That may not be the wisest choice
Means: You’re a freaking idiot, aren’t you? Even the other people on the short bus mock you for being so slow. I my brains hurt just being near you as the vacuum is trying to draw them out of my skull. If you do this you will just be showing your idiocy to the entire world and all of us will point and laugh at you.
Doesn’t Mean: All hail the greet seer. Truly you are inspired by a higher wisdom that us mere mortals cannot comprehend.

That could be costly
Means: Well duh. You do that, it will cost you. You lose all whining rights over the bill when I say this. This is a warning that that will be expensive, going forward anyway will be an assumption that you know it will be costly and accept that.
Doesn’t Mean: Of course I’m going to be doing all this work for FREE because you are such a wonderful person. In fact, should any of my staff make a terrible gaffe and actually presume to charge you for my work please DO quibble and whine and complain about it.

I am going to kill the next person I see. Just because.

I just had the most WONDERFUL day

please note: while text is incapoable of conveying the truly momentous amount of sarcasm in that statement, this is not a problems since even the most skillfully spoken word is difficient at trying to fill it with sufficient scorn

See, I went to London today. This is good, I love London. Going to London is one of my many joys in life - which makes the whole thing more galling.

I got up at dawn to drive for 4 hours to our nation's capital. That's ALWAYS going to piss me off since I hate driving and loathe mornings.

The person I am taking? Is a chain smoker. Seriously - he lights his next cigarette with the stub of his last one every single time. Right, I have a choice between closing the windows and creating a portable gas chamber or opening the windows and FREEZING since there's still snow on the ground (and falling from the sky) and I'd STILL have to smell the tobacco!

Have I ever mentioned how much I DESPISE the stench of smoking? Y'know, I don't care about them liquifying their lungs, even my lungs are pretty low on my priority list, I'm sure the exhaust fumes I inhale every day will kill me just as easily - but the SMELL? I was blessed, among my many gifts, with a very acute sense of smell. I can recognise what my beloved is cooking and how toxic it will be from the neighbour's house. The stench of tobacco makes me physically want to be sick. Imbuing my hand tailored suit and my brand new car's upholstery with tobacco smoke is going to put you right at the top of my "die soon of some horrible wasting disease" list.

So, I arrive in London (by the way, by some quirk of civic planning, a devious communist plot or possibly from sheer bloodymindedness - EVERY DAMN MILE OF ROAD BETWEEN MYSELF AND LONDON IS BEING REPAIRED! And the guys digging up all of our transport arteries weren't even hot). Then I have to argue with Mr. Smoky about where to go - Heathrow airport. No, not Luton airport. No, not Gatwick. No, not Stansted. Look, freak, there are FOUR, count them, FOUR airports in London to my knowledge, and probably several more I don't know about since London can hid ANYTHING. We cannot just go to ANY airport. If we could I would have taken slash&burn to the little Tonka Toy set known as Humberside airport and dumped him there.

So, we're damn close to being late that we have to go straight to Heathrow airport (and anyone who is having trouble with the concept of Hell need only behold Heathrow and fall to his knees to a deity of his choice begging forgiveness) and track down the Entrance Nazis nice immigration people.

Track down is, of course, the word. Heathrow is huge. There are CITIES smaller than Heathrow and national capitals with a lower population. This ios the WORLD'S busiest international airport. Sending us 2 letters with 2 different terminal numbers is NOT helpful. Staffing your contact numbers with poorly trained monkies is less so. Not even bothering with trained monkies at the immigration desk goes beyond unhelpful and makes me look for those communist plotters again.

Thanks to some divine providence (or possibly gods of mischief recognising that if I collapsed too soon they would miss out on some fun) we DID get to speak to the right person on time. Of course, he then kept us waiting for an hour, completely oblivious to me palming several of his head hairs for future curses. His first born will one day grow up and consume his flesh, if I have any say in the matter.

So we go into the interview. Now, it must be noted that this is a SECOND interview. This was just, and I quote, to "collect some paperwork you need to bring in, it will only take 5 minutes." Being the suspicious cynic I am, I booked an hour for this paperwork collection.

3 hours later, the interview was over. 3 hours. He only asked 20 questions. 15 of which were one word answers. He just asked them OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I actually told him I would record our answers so he can listen to our dulcet tones later at his leisure. And through it all Mr. Chimney was busily polluting the non-ventilated room while I contemplated ventillating them all with those damn stupid coffee stirrer. I wonder if the entire of Heathrow is aware that I was one double espresso short of going on a killing spree?

Of course, now we're so behind schedule it's unreal and I have NO time to do ANYTHING in the bestest city ever and have to get back into my poor car that now smells like a charcoal burner in a toxic waste site for the 4 hour drive BACK. And Mr. Chimney is still smoking every damn second of it.

Oh, and for added pleasure, he bitched so much about my music that I turned it off and pretended the player was broken just so I wouldn't have to hear it any more.

Soem days you just wish you hadn't got out of bed.