FOREWORD

By Baroness Hale of Richmond,

President of the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom

When Peter Murphy and I were Law students together at Cambridge University, from 1963 to 1966, did it occur to either of us what our later careers would be? Perhaps Peter always knew that he would qualify as a barrister and practise as an advocate, but surely not at the International Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia in The Hague, or that he would crown his career as Resident Judge in the Peterborough Crown Court. It certainly never occurred to me, as I went off to teach Law at the University of Manchester, with a bit of practice on the side, that I would end up as any sort of judge, let alone President of the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom.

Life in an appeal court, especially the top appeal court for the whole United Kingdom, is very different from life “at the coal face”, as those who work in trial courts up and down the land tend to call it. We deal in erudite points of law of the sort that Judge Walden, Resident Judge in the Bermondsey Crown Court, tries to avoid if he possibly can. So who would you rather be? Lady Hale, in the Supreme Court, deciding whether outlawing bigamy is incompatible with the rights of (for example) Mormons to manifest their belief that bigamy, indeed, polygamy, is justified in scripture? Or Judge Walden, benignly advising the jury whether duress (of the shotgun sort) is a defence to bigamy? He has a lot more fun than we do.

Bermondsey is an imaginary Crown Court with four permanent judges who fit each of the stereotypes – the wise, benign and seriously cunning Resident Judge, Judge Walden; the elderly, rather old-fashioned but still fundamentally sound member of the Garrick club; the buccaneering barrister turned Judge, still for some unknown reason nicknamed “Legless”; and the seriously clever who-should-go-further-but-with-family-responsibilities woman Judge. All are supported by some wonderful court staff – the hugely savvy listing officer, Stella, who knows everything that is going on, and Judge Walden’s usher, Dawn, always brightly dressed beneath her gown. We all owe these heroines a great debt of gratitude.

What comes over loud and clear is that, despite their differences, each of these judges is equally committed to what the legal process – especially in criminal cases – is all about: the fair trial of those accused of offending against the law. And what also comes over loud and clear is that so are the advocates who appear in front of them. They play by the rules and neither side does dirty tricks – or if they do, they will be found out soon enough and no good will come of it. These stories are a fine description of some sensible and honourable advocacy.

But you mustn’t believe that everything that goes on in these pages would really go on – trial judges in disputes between neighbours do not conduct mediations in nearby pubs while the case is going on, for example – but that does not detract from the essential truth of all these stories, that the law and the courts should always be looking for the right solution, wherever and however it may be found.

Nor must you believe that the “Grey Smoothies” from the Ministry of Justice are always out to undermine the independence of the judiciary. They have their role and Judge Walden has his. But somehow he seems to outsmart them every time, which is just as it should be. That his wife is the local vicar, the Reverend Clara Walden, and he buys his daily coffee, sandwich and newspaper from the local market traders, shows how grounded he is in the life of his local community.

But above all, these stories are really funny! His Honour Judge Walden is surely the next Rumpole, a modern, sensible, fair and compassionate judge, not stuck in the past, even when it comes to mastering the new technology and the “paperless court”, but staying faithful to the values we both learned all those years ago.