I had a wry smile at Mr Justice Sweeney's stinging criticism to an incompetent jury who confronted him with a litany of ten idiotic questions during the trial of Chris Huhne's ex wife, Vicky Pryce.
Having unfortunately recently seen, at close quarters, the banal and trivial preoccupations of a sizeable group of people, I really cannot profess to have been surprised to see that His Honour should be asked a series of silly basic questions such as "Should we speculate as to what she was thinking?" and "Can we come to verdict based on a reason that was not presented in court and has no facts or evidence to support it?". His indignant response ("In over 30 years of criminal trials I’ve never come across this") brought a smile to my face as I pictured the worlds of the rarified and the banausic colliding in spectacular fashion. I would hate to think that my liberty rested in the hands of the Geordie Shore-watching, vacuous types that clearly peopled that jury room.
Having done jury service myself, I was elected as foreman by the others, on account of the fact that "you seem to know what's going on" (not especially, but I did listen, pay attention and follow the twists and turns of the evidence as presented) - and as I was the only one there actually taking any notes!
Our deliberations were punctuated with just the type of asinine questions with which Mr Justice Sweeney was presented: I despair of people sometimes. Quite unbelievable.
Having unfortunately recently seen, at close quarters, the banal and trivial preoccupations of a sizeable group of people, I really cannot profess to have been surprised to see that His Honour should be asked a series of silly basic questions such as "Should we speculate as to what she was thinking?" and "Can we come to verdict based on a reason that was not presented in court and has no facts or evidence to support it?". His indignant response ("In over 30 years of criminal trials I’ve never come across this") brought a smile to my face as I pictured the worlds of the rarified and the banausic colliding in spectacular fashion. I would hate to think that my liberty rested in the hands of the Geordie Shore-watching, vacuous types that clearly peopled that jury room.
Having done jury service myself, I was elected as foreman by the others, on account of the fact that "you seem to know what's going on" (not especially, but I did listen, pay attention and follow the twists and turns of the evidence as presented) - and as I was the only one there actually taking any notes!
Our deliberations were punctuated with just the type of asinine questions with which Mr Justice Sweeney was presented: I despair of people sometimes. Quite unbelievable.
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