The Law has been blighted by the invention of the photocopier. Back in the good old days for which all barristers pine (the 1780s in case you were wondering), getting a document copied meant sending it to a copyist who would dip a quill in ink and painstakingly transcribe. No 4000 page bundles in those days. To cope we have had to resort to trolley bags to drag our instructions around. I have a range of them and my current favourite is an enormous and stylish Mandarina Duck one. Before today it had only be used once: to carry home P’s dirty laundry from Scotland.
My client today is the World’s largest Law Firm. That is quite a client to have. I was pleased. They wanted me to represent them by which I mean someone was suing them and they want me as their lawyer. I was most pleased. Anxious to make a good impression I broke out the quality luggage and made my way to their Canary Wharf Skyscraper.
Having been shown into a plush conference suite, I chatted lightly as I unpacked my files. Opening the zip with a flourish I noticed that a pair of P’s knickers had somehow lain hidden in the depths of the bag and were now flopped nonchalantly across the top of my papers. I cast a glance at the clients but they were all filling bone china cups with delicious fresh teas. I could still get away with this. I flicked at the underwear with my hand and it dropped into one of the bag’s recesses and, mercifully, out of sight. I then piled the files onto the table and zipped the bag shut again. I paused to regain my composure and began to set out my advice. I found it unnerving that none of them were looking at me. Instead they were focused on a point about a foot in front of me. I looked at my files nervously. No underwear appeared to be attached. What was it that had so grabbed their attention? Could it, I wondered, be the sturdy and extravagantly curled pubic hair that was sat atop the uppermost file?
I grabbed the file and followed their eyes as the hair slipped from its surface, twirled to the table top and then slid onto their handmade carpet. At that point I didn’t know where to look so I focused on the other file. Well now, what a coincidence! It too was sporting a merry-looking pube. As everyone in the room was thoroughly professional no-one asked me how well I’d got to know the papers.Â
Brilliant! I’ll be sure to slip that into your 2007 C&P write-up: Clients expressed concern at the “pubic hair infiltrating Moobs’s work” this year.
Wot no ‘brief’ jokes?
I don’t even know what to say…..
Was there some sort of stenographer taking notes for the meeting.
“Mr. Moob’s proceeds to present some sort of pube as evidence”
“Pube given file no. 346-9 and carefully bagged using Mr. Wilkins nose tweezers.”
For reasons unknown, this put me in a Lewis Carroll frame of mind…
And as in uffish thought he stood
The Moobsy Pube with curls untamed
Came driffling out the bulge-ous file,
questing direly to be claimed.
On the the floor and snorting with laughter, thank you kindly!
And I love mandarina duck bags too! Most stylish, in a funky “I am glad I’m not a Tumi” kind of way.
Fabulous! I’m sure your clients will dine out on that one, too.
How did you keep a straight face? Ok, you have to be grateful to your stern parents for that because my American (yes, I know America is a continent) self would have laughed my ass off. Fallen over and rolled on the ground for a while.
In fact, I did laugh when I read this post. Thanks.
I think I just soiled myself. Perhaps that’s why “shaved” is so popular in the US? To avoid such corporate faux pas.
they must be impressed by your dedication to work.
As a history student I’m interested to know why the 1780s. I was recently reading about the (criminal) legal system of that period regarding the transportation of convicts convicted of capital crimes, which lead of course to discussions of Habeas Corpus (1679) and the Bill of Rights (1689).
Oh, and why can’t the “World’s largest Law Firm” conduct their own defence?
You do know that P is going to kill you if she sees this?
As the lawyers, they clearly realise that you really, really love this job.
Oh, its Ok, Moobsie.
They probably noticed that pants too, and have you marked as a secret transvestite like most of the judges. They probably think you’re a REALLY REALLY good lawyer now. Don’t give it another thought!
What the hell do you do with your briefcases at home? Or don’t we want to know?
omg i cant stop laughing…… baaahahahahahahaa
i hope you managed to look bored and uneffected
Please tell me you just made that up for our entertainment. My side hurts.
That was hilarious. Pubes in the brief case. Bwahahahahahaha!
oh…my…GOD!!! MOOBS!!!! THIS IS CLASSIC! It sounds like something that would happen to me. My mouth dropped open and then I was hysterical laughing and telling Will. Will’s Dad is a big attorney here in Santa Barbara, I can’t wait to tell him!
Oh Moobs…
This reminds me of when I would wrap Christmas gifts on the floor of my bedroom and would invariably get pubes stuck in the transparent tape.
Oh my…that is awesome. Sounds like you handled it as well as could be expected of anyone.
Verrrry funny. Nightmarish, but funny all the same.
Lord have mercy.
Well, it could have been worse. It could have been the panties, right? Dirty panties? Granny panties? Panties AND pubes??
Either you brits have very BIG dark and curlies or else KEEN eyesight, no?
Pervasive pubes? Now I’m convinced that I have one of those pesky things stuck in the back of my throat. Ack, uccck, garch.
I worked at a smelter. Out of 45 employees, I was the only woman. It was a dirty job and we showered when our shift was over. We took our clothes home every day to wash. One morning as I arrived at work, I noticed two of the bosses looking at something on the ground. I had to walk by them to enter the building and was mortified to see that what they were inspecting was a pair of my wildly colorful string bikini underwear, which had apparently fallen out of my bag and into the snow. I nonchalantly bent over to retrieve them but they were frozen to the gound. I came out later with a chipping hammer and dislodged them. As you can imagine, my co-workers teased me for months.
Joy – These were Scottish pubes – they make them form girders.
Amy – My cat suggests that you cough up a furball.
Laurie – I’m surprised you didn’t have to move town. This has had me laughing all evening.