Courting Controversy

Erections, ejaculations and elderly paedophiles -- it may sound like an election manifesto from the Liberal Democrats, but it's actually a succinct summary of the experiences of The Natflap's law correspondent, DAVE WILLIAMS, after he spent a week balancing the scales of justice whilst on jury duty in the Crown court. Mr Williams kept an intimate record of the week's proceedings and has made his memoirs available exclusively to readers of THE NATFLAP. The charge? Sexual assault. The jury? Incompetent cretins. The verdict? You'll have to read on to find out!

Day One

12 Angry Men

Not angry, but horny.

I was told by former juries parking was bad so to get there early, so I left at half eight leaving me A WHOLE HOUR to get there, which I needed because I got completely lost in the centre of Bournemouth going round in circles and ended up having to ask a white van man at 9.20.

After eventually arriving and having trouble getting through the metal detector, HOURS were spent waiting in the jury hall until I was finally called, along with a remotely fit girl (the best there - I felt confident too, with my smart clothes and new haircut) and 13 others. BUT THERE'S ONLY SUPPOSED TO BE 12 JURORS. The 13 others were cruelly whittled down to 11 by random selection, and the fit girl was snatched away from me at the last minute.

So after being sworn in by making an affirmation in front of the whole court that I'll be honest and all that (making my rejection of the bible obvious), the first of my juror duties was to annotate on my indictment, "first masturbation", "second masturbation" and "grabbing crotch". We hadn't been told anything about the case so you can imagine how excited I was, especially as the defendant was a fat old man with asthma.

It may be a disappointment to learn that courts aren't anything like their movie counterparts. It's all modern so there's no atmosphere and the defence and prosecution lawyers act like they're best friends ("my good friend on my right here will ask you further questions"). However, they do all still wear robes and wigs, which distracted me a lot from the case by trying to imagine being someone from a completely different country and coming here to see such a circus.

There wasn't really much of note for the rest of the day, other than a lawyer outright accusing a mentally handicapped (OR WHATEVER THE PC PHRASE IS THESE DAYS) young man of lying about being forcibly masturbated to a painful ejaculation and having a "red raw" penis the next day. It sounds exciting but when you have to sit through an hour of him saying "it was terrible", you want to fondle the cunt yourself :D

Day Two

Today I learnt that a 12th of people in Great Britain lose all tolerance for morons after just one day of exposure. These findings come from how my jury represent a cross-section of Britain, and I (as one of twelve) already have utter contempt for the woman who sits next to me. She dresses like a 12 year-old girl who's just discovered how well heavy eyeliner goes with an all pink outfit, something that only 12 year-old girls would think. On top of this, she has a disgusting Wigan accent (or something equally as working class from up north) and is one of those people who have to crack some shit joke about everything that's said, even if it's just rewording a joke someone else just made.

I remember thinking earlier "today was a lot more exciting than yesterday" but I can't remember any reason why. Just as the defence lawyer was stirring up something juicy with "I don't want to start an argument but rules ARE rules", the judge sent us out so they could disappointingly resolve it in private. The problem was that the prosecution lawyer wanted to show us some new evidence which the defence obviously didn't, but we'd all seen his huge cheeky grin as he was passed it anyway.

We finally got to hear the defendant (or paedophilic rapist, whatever you want to call him) speak, but hearing of his countless health problems, cutely innocent inability to read well or write at all and my natural love for paedophiles, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. The guy he supposedly sexually abused was 25 with mental problems (which one of the lawyers referred to as "erm... to politically incorrectly put it- mental issues", which I was thoroughly fucking disgusted by, being part of the PC Brigade). It's a tricky one, the guy's TWENTY FIVE and his spasticity isn't severe so he was by no means raped, just taken advantage of. Is that even illegal? I think the accuser is just a complete prude who's a closet homosexual, he once complained about his councillor for wearing low cut tops and short skirts.

Aside from repeatedly dropping my pencil while playing with it after each time thinking "I won't drop it again", nothing really happened. I did consider giving a nice old man a lift back to Oakdale to save him a bus journey, but I figured it might have meant I'd have had to learn his name so I decided against it.

Day Three

Today I discovered that the twat I described yesterday is nowhere near the largest cunt on the jury. We were all pretty split when it came to our own verdicts; me being a bleeding-heart liberal said not guilty along with all the other bleeding-heart liberals; a couple stayed neutral and a few BNP missionaries stubbornly stuck to guilty, pretty much on the basis that it's better to have an innocent man in jail than a disgusting paedo (who obviously isn't an actual paedo, but I wasn't going bring that up to a room full of bigots) roaming the streets. Despite the actual case we're dealing with being about sexual abuse on a 25 year-old mentally-handicapped man, one fat twat chav kept referring to the defendant's "kiddy fiddling" as if there was literally no other way to refer to paedophilia.

Shark attack!

Sharks in the courtroom are very uncommon, but that didn't stop Dave worrying about what might happen if they weren't.

The twat from yesterday - needless to say - elected herself as the foreman, which turned out alright because she seemed pretty fair (Although she did disguise all of her points in appalling jokes). One middle-aged bigot ended a jovial discussion on a frugal golfer by attributing his thrift to his Judaism, and I realised a young man I thought I could befriend was actually too cool for me. I spent most of my time during deliberations trying to analyse my own scribblings and working out if the girl next to me was acceptably attractive. I think she's actually a mong but she looks very fit in my peripheral vision.

The best source of humour was an old man who found a story about eating sausages in pants so hilarious that he used any possible opportunity to bellow "SAUSAGES!" and, after his own uncontrollable chuckles subsided, "PANTS!". I find eccentric people's senses of humour hilarious; it's a pity everyone else who tried to be funny was just a fucking moron.

As things stand, the jury is hung and there's not really any way a remotely unanimous verdict will be arrived at. Looks like another poor dozen will have to sit through all this at a possible retrial, hopefully with fewer bigoted cunts.

Day Four

Sadly no sausage-in-pants jokes today. Very little laughing in fact, as the jury room often erupted into shouting matches over personal views and one man's bigotry. The judge declared us all useless as we couldn't reach a verdict after 7 hours; disappointing but at least it's finally all over. I should've said guilty just for the excitement of convicting someone, but in the end it came down to how much I hated the other guilty-voters. I definitely wasn't going to lead ignorant twats to believe that I agreed with their moronic "would you feel happy letting a paedophile roam the streets?" talk. One of the right-wingers outright said "I knew he was guilty as soon as I saw him in court", which didn't inspire confidence in me, along with his Derren Brown-esque mindreading ability that he utilised to be sure the defendant's limited emotion and body language meant he was clearly guilty. Hopefully the jury for the retrial won't contain such absolute idiots. It was nice though that the girl who I contemplated the fitness of seemed to copy my every move and opinion, effectively giving me two votes. Shame that I ended up sitting on the fence and ruining the whole trial.

Dave Williams was writing from a bedroom in his mother's house for

Permalink || Posted 4/8/2007 by Dave Williams


  1. Simon Cowell - 21/8/2007 - 4:36pm

    Hilarious! Just what I'm looking for! How does 1m sound to you?


  2. Simon Cowel - 16/5/2010 - 1:44am

    Great British pounds sterling, that is.

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