It's all very interesting, in a morality play sort of fashion; eminent QC and peer of the Realm, Lord John Taylor of Warwick at Southwark Court.
"....shitdrops keep falling on my head..."
and eminent QC and peer of the Realm, Lord Peter Goldsmith,
I know nothing, I am just a lawyer. Stupid. An imbecile.
at the Chilcott IraqFest.
Taylor, facing jail for false accounting in relation to his expenses, says that somebody told him it was alright, even if it was wrong, for him to invent a second home and claim for its upkeep and his travel to and from it, even though he didn't live there and therefore didn't go to it. He fell, he claims, among noble thieves, and who can doubt it; Lord So-and-So told me it was alright, he bleats, through his own QC. And I'm only a lawyer and a QC myself, how'm I supposed to tell the difference between right and wrong? If someone tells me something's legal, that's good enough for me. And another thing, I gave up a promising career, as a pisspoor lawyer, to come and work here for the Tory party without any wages; they forced me to do it, give up being a lawyer and become a thief, I had no choice, why shouldn't I claim for something I'm not entitled to; it's not as though I had any form of income, apart from the broadcasting and journalism. Lord John also told reporters that he had been living in the West Midlands, caring for his sick mother, when, in fact, she had been dead for six years. How'm I supposed to know when my mother's dead or alive, I'm only an eminent QC? His Not Guilty plea really does beggar belief.
If Taylor had any sense he would throw himself on the mercy of the Court or plead insanity; dissembling badly, like the rotten lawyer he is, will see him inside; the first black peer, in jail, Jesus fucking wept, what a legacy, a dirty footnote in political history, a vindication, they will insist, of all who damned his blackness in Cheltenham, years ago, called him coon and wog, unfit - his friends, in the Nasty Party. There is a position from which one can say Serve him right, up his own arse, Uncle Tom-ing, what does he expect from the Establishment but that if there's someone to be thrown to the wolves, it'll be him, Darky. A wider, better-tempered view would be that doubtless many deserve to be in Taylor's position, and aren't, and that his scapegoating is deliberate and will assist those bent on niggering their fellows, just like they always did. I knew Taylor was a fool within ten seconds of meeting him, so would anyone; lawyer, doctor, banker and politician fools, though, tend, normally, to get away with their foolishness, Taylor, in his rush to be Inside, hadn't realised that even first class fools play with a deck stacked against the second class likes of him. He's threatening to robustly question his fellow thieving peer, the one who told him it was OK to steal from the taxpayer, but who now denies saying any such thing, should be interesting, peers and probably lawyers, falling out. Odd, how the same culture which permits Mr and Mrs Kinnock to sign-in to the Euro parliament for two minutes, whilst the taxi is waiting outside to ferry them to a cheap flight home, for which they will claim an expensive, full-price reimbursement, the rotten slags, also, out of the blue, forbids poor Lord Taylor from claiming a tiny fraction of what the Kinnocks so eagerly troughed.
Rather less pathos attaches itself to Blair's legal bumboy, Goldsmith, former Attorney General and now million pounds a year solicitor, barrister, advocat, member of an international lawyers' cartel, desperately trying to wash his hands of his former mentor, Tony Blair. He kept me on the outside, whines Goldsmith, I didn't know what was going on. How was I to know? If I had known what was going to happen I never would have said it's OK, legally, for two members to defy the rest of the United Nations and just go marching into another country and steal everything and kill hundreds of thousands and torture people to death. Of course I wouldn't. I'm a lawyer for goodness sake. I guess I was just too trusting. I mean, I knew Tony, and he made me Attorney General, even though I was rubbish, and because of that, now I'm earning all this Hoon-money. And I definitely don't want to lose it, And so if the Enquiry, or anybody, really, wants me to say that Tony Blair is a mad, lying, thieving bastard who misled the commons, is congenitally estranged from the truth and who, with his arse-companion, Big Mad Al bi-curious Campbell, cooked up a whole massive fiction about Weapons and shit then that is what I'm gonna say, I'm a lawyer, after all. I do so solemnly swear.
If this keeps up, poor Mr Blair may come to feel like a latterday General Pinochet, ill at ease in the UK, fearful of arrest, his dreams, which should be so leisured and peaceful and Godly, fraught, instead, with visions of disgrace and shame and humiliation and prison, bless.