I am about to have a nervous breakdown. This is not the first time I have come close to collapse (it is a fairly regular occurrence when working for Miranda) but it is the first time it has been caused by someone else’s worry.

“We’re not properly prepared for this hearing,” Malcolm continually moans. “We have to be on top of things!”

Like he was when he found the Appeal Notice stuffed beneath one of his golfing trophies.

Despite Counsel being in the South of France, I have worked my backside off to ensure that every possible I was dotted and T was crossed. The submissions are so well prepared they could probably speak for themselves; even the odious Mr Hare from the Revenue found it hard to find fault with them (he had to resort to making a point about them being sent by  DX) but still Malcolm is unhappy.

“Have we got the share certificates?” he asks for the fifteenth time.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain.”

Ten minutes later.

“Have we got the Minutes of the meetings?”

“Yes.”

Five minutes after that.

“Are the bank transfer documents in there?”

“Yes.”

And so it has gone on: for four long weeks until I have reached the point of explosion.

“Tell him to stop hassling you,” Jane catches me scrunching paper into balls and flinging them across my office. “He’s wasting so much of your time with these ridiculous questions and he’s making you as crazy as he is.”

“I have tried that.”(More tactfully, of course) “But he has gone past logical reasoning.”

“Try hitting him over the head with a text book,” she suggests. “Failing that, poison his coffee.”

For encouragement, she hands me a copy of her latest read: ’Wicked Weeds’, which is full of useful tips for prospective poisoners about plants.

“Jimsen Weed is my personal favourite,” she adds.

I flick to her recommendation:  ‘A native of North America, in sufficient quantities Jimsen Weed can be fatal, but it’s most common use is as a hallucinogen.  Takers appear to lose both their inhibitions and their memories; it is not uncommon for them to do absolutely crazy things (taking their clothes off in public, for example) and have no memory of it.’

How tempting it would be to administer a few drops to the partners’ coffee…… I am day dreaming of the results when he e-mails me with another missive.

“Has Mr Haliday been notified of the Court details?!”

“Arrrrgggggghhh!”

I head to the kitchen to escape them for a while. Outside, I find that Dan’s departure is hitting the secretaries hard.

“I can’t believe he is going and not her! Melinda is stroking intranet photograph, up on her screen. “He’s so lovely and she is so, well, not.”

“You have got to get over him,” Lynnette advises. “There are plenty more fish in the sea.”

“Not with green eyes and cheeky smiles….”

Danielle rolls her eyes. “Look,” she sets down her coffee. “Even if he wasn’t engaged to Liz, there was never any chance that he would go out with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because he has a brain and you don’t!” Lynnette laughs so hard, she almost falls off her chair.

Danielle shoots her a warning look. “Because,” she says, more gently, “you and he have nothing in common.”

“Yes we do!” she protests.

“Such as?”

She thinks for a moment. “We both like holidays, and Jaffa cakes; and cats.”

“Holidays, Jaffa cakes and cats!” Lynette is off again, “That’s a recipe for a long lasting relationship!!”

Melinda scowls at her “Shut your face or I’ll shut it for you.”

This only makes Lynnette laugh even more. She’s still laughing when Liz emerges with some filing.

“What’s going on?”

“Melinda was just giving us some relationship advice,” Lynnette gasps.

“Oh yes?” she turns to Melinda. “Have you got any good tips?”

“You’re the one who’s engaged, you should be telling us,” she huffs.

“I don’t know what the secret is!” she laughs. “We just get on well.”

“Melinda thinks you need to share common interests,” Lynnette tells her. “Like Jaffa cakes, holidays and cats.”

“Interesting,” Liz nods. “I’m not sure about that, I’m allergic to cats.”

“See!” Melinda hisses, as Liz retreats, “I told you: it will never last.”

I don’t’ have time to get involved in all this nonsense, because Malcolm sneaks up on me.

“Did you check the bundles?”

“Yes!” He makes me jump. For the fifth time!

“Did you tell Counsel to make that point about costs?”

“Yes.”

“What’s taking him so long?”

“I don’t know. But don’t worry, it will all be fine.”

And, of course, it is: but only because I have to stay ’til midnight correcting Counsel’s woeful prose.

By the time we are finally assembled in Court, I am praying for a resolution, just so I can escape the two of them.

The only thing keeping me going is Mr Haliday, who is there, looking less hopeful than last time. “If we lose, can we complain to the Court of Human Rights about the Revenue’s behaviour?” he asks. “They are making me feel like a criminal and all I’ve done is invested in a business.”

Malcolm looks at me in a panic. He has no idea about what we can and cannot do.

“We’ll look into that,” I soothe, “But let’s get through today first.”

As I say this, Peter Day wafts through the doors.  With his suntan and uncombed hair he looks more like a surfer than an advocate.

“Greetings clients!” he calls. “How are we all this morning? I am feeling very confident today.  I would like you to meet my new junior, Michael, who has been beavering away below stairs for me. “

Michael steps forward. Unlike his boss, he appears to have spent the summer underground.  “Hello.”

“Righto, well then, we’d better set out our stall and wait for Judge Judy to arrive.”

“Judge Judy?” Malcolm gasps.

“That’s what we call Judge Judison.” He laughs, “You didn’t think it was the real Judge Judy did you?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No, of course not.” Yes he did.

“Judge Judy would be an improvement!” Peter explains. “Judge Judison is bonkers.”

That makes two of them then.

A few moments later we are called to rise as Judge Judison appears.  He too is sporting a deep Mediterranean tan.

“So, what have you got for me this morning?” he peers at the papers. “A taxation complaint I see.  Marvellous, just what I want on my first day back.”

“It is an appeal, your honour, on behalf of my client, Mr Haliday. The Revenue is opposing.”

“Oh,” he nods, “That reminds me, I must start to fill in my Tax Return! I don’t want Mr Gould’s client chasing after me.”

Gould smiles his crocodile smile, “My client only pursues Tax Evaders Your Honour.”

Malcolm pokes Peter sharply in the back. “Yes?!

“Objection!”

“Oh, yes!” he leaps up. “Objection Your Honour, Mr Client is not a tax evader; he is simply finds himself in an unclear area of law; which is why we are all here.”

“Noted Mr Day. Tax evaders tend to be smart enough to avoid my court room!”

“Objection!” says Gould. “Your Honour is implying that the Appellant is not smart enough to be a Tax Evader before he has heard the evidence.”

“Noted Mr Gould. Gosh, this is going to be a long day.” He rolls his eyes, takes a sip of water and sits back in his enormous seat. “Let’s start with both of you taking me through your submissions, I confess I haven’t had the time or the inclination to read them.”

He’s right, it is going to be a long day. It takes Peter two hours to flounce his way through his submissions (clearly written by Michael) then it’s time for lunch, which is eaten in the dingy little restaurant in the basement. Peter regales us with his holiday stories; Malcolm frets over the morning’s events; Michael picks at his food; Haliday makes business calls and I pray for the fire alarm to go off.

We return to Court to hear Gould’s position (a rerun of his performance at the Tribunal: full of spreadsheets and gant charts and snide accusations of illegality) but Judison does not seem to be paying a lot of attention; in fact, if I didn’t know better I would swear he had a mini TV under his desk. Every now and again he seems to look down and mutter something to himself, which sounds a lot like the cricket score.

“Do you have any questions Your Honour?” Gould asks.

Judison looks up in surprise. “Questions? Oh, er, no, yes! What do you say about Ridley v  Greaterco?”

Gould looks blank. “I’m sorry Your Honour, I am not familiar with that authority.”

“Really? What about you, Mr Day?”

“Is it about VAT?”

“No. It is a case, which, I believe, provides all the answers to this problem. I am a little surprised that neither of you has presented it.  Shall we have a short adjournment whilst you look it up?”

Peter and Gould exchange puzzled glances than nod, in unison.

“Ok, good we shall reconvene here about four ish.”

How convenient; at ‘fourish’ the cricketers break for tea.  Meanwhile the race is on to digest Riley v Greaterco.

“Back to Chambers, quick smart!” Peter orders.

A few moments later, we are sitting in his cavernous office, searching legal websites. There is no sign of Riley on any of the legal services providers. Michael is send to the Library to see what he can dig out. He returns clutching an obscure text book.  It’s mentioned in the index and seems to only be available in an even more obscure set of law reports so he he is despatched to the Bar Council to locate it.  He returns triumphant.

“Well?” Peter demands. “Is it helpful?”

He shrugs, “Only if we completely restructure our case.”

“Well, let’s do that!”

His enthusiasm is touching; he leaves me and Michael to draft the new submissions and takes Malcolm and Haliday to the pub.  He returns an hour later, reads it through, makes a few small changes and then ushers us all back to Court.

He reads the submissions like an actor reading a script and then thanks Judison for his, ‘Great wisdom in pointing them to this little known, but extremely helpful, case!”

Gould is less than enthused. “It is completely irrelevant,” he sneers. “It has no bearing on this scenario at all.”

Big mistake.

“I will be the judge of that,” Judison tells him. And since he was the one who suggested it, it seems likely that he will judge Gould to be wrong.

And so it proves.  Silencing the debate with a twitch of his hand, he gives his judgment;

“This case concerns the application of The Enterprise Investment Rules 1995. The Appellant, Mr Haliday, purchased and improved a golf club using monies rolled over from the sale of other shares. The Revenue submits that the rollovers were not carried out at the correct times, in the correct manner. During the course of the proceedings, it became apparent, to me that the parties had overlooked an important case which could provide the answer to the whole dilemma.  After a short adjournment, the parties returned with their submissions on this point. I find Mr Day’s submission that this case is precedent for the idea of linking transactions together (regardless of timings) convincing. I, therefore, find for the Appellant but since I was the one who suggested the case I have decided that neither party deserves to be awarded any costs.”

He looks up and smiles to himself. “Anything else?”

Gould leaps up. “I should like you to grant my client leave to appeal, Your Honour.”

“Granted. You may go.”

There is something of a stunned silence. Gould and Hare are muttering furiously to one another.  Peter and Michael are packing up; Malcolm is frowning and Haliday is looking perplexed, “What just happened?” he whispers to me.

“We won, but only because of the new case; so we didn’t get costs.”

“Isn’t it a bit odd for a judge to provide the evidence and give judgment on it?” he asks Peter.

“Oh yes!” he agrees, “But I warned you about Judison, he’s a bit maverick.”

A bit?!

“Can we appeal?”

“We can,” Peter nods, “but I don’t think we will have to; the Revenue is bound to challenge this one.”

As he says this Hare is waving his fist angrily in the direction of the Judison’s office.

“So I will have to go through all of this again?” Haliday looks ready to cry.

“I’m afraid so,” he nods. “And next time, there will be three judges to contend with.”

“Three times the trouble….”

“Or third time lucky,” I suggest.

“I hope that’s true,” he manages a wan smile, “I don’t think my nerves could stand another round of this battle.”

To be frank: neither could mine.