Jury Service: Day 6

Shoot me now
Today I was called to sit on the jury of what must surely rank as one of the dullest trials ever to come before a court of law. It’s so tedious that I can’t be bothered writing the details of it right now — just thinking about it is liable to send me into a catatonic state. Frankly, I think this could have been dealt with by a magistrate in about three hours, but no, apparently it’s likely to last four or five days. We spent two hours listening to details that I could have summed up in about ten minutes. Do we really need to examine a fucking ‘thank you’ card from the Royal British Legion poppy appeal? How much is this costing the taxpayer? The longer I spend around the court, the more I realise what a complete shambles the British criminal justice system is.

This feeling wasn’t helped by watching a programme on telly this evening about Barry George, the guy convicted of killing TV presenter Jill Dando. Don’t know how that got to court in the first place, let alone how his appeal failed. One is left with a feeling that there’s corruption and a cover-up by the authorities. Seems to me that the Serbian connection, outlined in a Guardian article — Shadow of doubt? — has real credibility.

Interestingly, again I was one of only two people on the jury that didn’t want to take the religious oath. Maybe it’s not that surprising, considering a recent swearing survey found that 10% of people consider the word God to be a very severe swear word. Freaks. Naturally cunt came top of the nasty words poll. And speaking of cunts, I see that Jeffrey Archer, one of the slimiest, most corrupt cunts in Britain, has landed a cushy day-release job in the theatre, after serving only a quarter of a four-year sentence for perjury and perverting the course of justice. And he’s signed a multi-million pound book deal whilst inside. See what I mean about British justice?

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