On Monday I had to go present myself for jury duty; I tried getting out of it by providing a valid E-Ticket from British Airways which clearly states I am leaving Glasgow this coming Friday. They sent it back by post and told me turn up on Monday and …maybe just maybe…they will let me off.
What I don’t understand is- with the sheer amount of unemployed people that we keep reading about in The Daily Mail why do the courts want people who are terminally busy?
Do busy people have better judgement? I don’t think so, I think if I had better judgement I would not work and lie in bed all day. I am a stupid twat that chose a career; if I was smart I would do piss all and sleep instead of working in an industry that still thinks women aren’t quite good enough for the job.
Anyway, I dragged myself out of bed at 8am on Monday, thought ‘suppose I better wash my hair, I don’t want to turn up looking mental….hang on…maybe looking mental is good?’ So, instead of coiffing my bunnet, I merely bushed it up further into what can only be described as a hysterical angry terrier hanging off the side of my head.
No make up either, a blotchy pale face with two red vicious spots on my chin completed the Susan Boyle effect I was going for. Husband stared at me silently, I could see him trying hard to think of something to slip out of lips, but having been married 30 years this is a man who knows to think really really hard before he says stuff about my hair or appearance. Holidays have been ruined by a sneery look at my summer shorts.
“Nice” was all he uttered.
“I am going to look mental, feels strange going out like this” I explained.
“You look like that when you sit about the house anyway” he stepped into a burning puddle of verbal hell, he didn’t know it, he was unaware of the liquid fire chasing his heels, but I let it go. I needed to get to court.
9.45am it stated clearly on the form. So I was there for 9.30am, the cold wind had chaffed my face and made my hair sufficiently psychotic, but the room they put me into was blisteringly hot. That was after they searched me and shoved me through a security arch that was set up at the front door. Within seconds I was sweating, people started filing in, before long the room was stuffed with folk. There weren’t enough seats; people were standing, nobody talking, all staring at watches and phones.
At 10.30am I lost patience, I slammed out of the ‘steam’ room and walked to the info booth. I explained to the pale man that the clerk was late, the room had 43 people and only 37 seats and that the heat was intolerable.
“Open a window then” the man said indolently.
“Well, its ground floor and it could breach security, that’s why I didn’t open the windows, you could easily pass a gun through the window and bypass the security at the doors” I said too loudly. The policemen, who were standing about laughing, stopped and stared at me…the word GUN flagged up in their head. But I was merely pointing out a fact.
Just then the court clerk Sue Perkins turned up, well she was the absolute DOUBLE of Sue Perkins and I know Sue, she even spoke like her. I was freaked out, was this Sue? Was it a trick?
It wasn’t Sue- she was the court clerk and she announced “everyone into court seven please” I was trying hard to get her attention to let her know I needed to be excused and because Sue Perkins (the real one) is so friendly I assumed her doppelganger would be as amiable. She wasn’t. Actually that isn’t fair, she was just efficient.
Finally we all sat in the court and shouted ‘Here’ when our names were roll called.
After eons of time passed she finally gave us an opportunity to come forward to ask to be excused (it was like school games time).
I was there first, I smiled my best and wished my hair didn’t look raped, then told her all about my busy life, my trip to London, my inability to judge killers, my dislike of the small over heated room, the story about being caught with guns 15 years ago, my Burns night at The Groucho, my lump near my crotch, my birthday plans and then finally told her I was a stand up comedian who tells long winded stories for a living, then I muttered the last time I was in that very court room was when I gave evidence of the child abuse I suffered when we took my uncle David Percy to court in 1996….I talked for ages then told her she looked like Sue Perkins who by the way is ‘awesome’.
She simply smiled and said “ok”.
I ran out of there like one of the Guildford Six celebrating my freedom.
So life is sweet! I am all packed for London and it’s my birthday today!_