When I went to college in Dublin, there was always stories around about a legendary Circuit Court Judge and the eccentric actions he would take from the bench. Although I know his name, I won’t use it because there is a fair chance that the stories are apocryphal or at least altered a little to improve the telling.
The best known event was when the judge told a young ‘scally’ that he was going to send him to jail… unless he was gone from his sight by the time the judge signed the document in front of him.
The young man stood staring at him, not understanding what was on offer.
“You’re not getting’ me,” said the Judge looking up from his paper, “you have to run. RUNNNN!!! Get out, RUN!”.
And the lad ran, as fast as his long thin legs could carry him.
I like that, but this my favorite, I’m always telling it.
(Ahem)
A rough-piece-of-work was in the witness stand, accused of assaulting an associate of his.
The barrister for his defence was trying to lead him carefully through his testimony:
Barrister: Tell us, in your own words, what happened.
Accused: Well, he came at me and I hit him a dunt in the bollix.
The Barrister notices a glare from the judge.
Barrister: Perhaps you could just rephrase that for the court?
Accused: Ah, yeh, sorry. He came at me and I, like, hit him a dunt in the… nuts.
Another glare.
Barrister: Again, although I said, ‘in your own words’, perhaps…
Accused: Oh, right, sorry…
The accused struggles for memories of biology lessons from his dim and distant past. He comes up trumps.
Accused: Right! (Clears throat) He came at me and I hit him a dunt in the… Testicles!!
At which point the judge loses patience and leans over to the accused, speaking clearly so the whole court can hear.
Judge: I think we all know where yer bollix are, Murphy, but would ye kindly tell us what a ‘Dunt’ is.
The best known event was when the judge told a young ‘scally’ that he was going to send him to jail… unless he was gone from his sight by the time the judge signed the document in front of him.
The young man stood staring at him, not understanding what was on offer.
“You’re not getting’ me,” said the Judge looking up from his paper, “you have to run. RUNNNN!!! Get out, RUN!”.
And the lad ran, as fast as his long thin legs could carry him.
I like that, but this my favorite, I’m always telling it.
(Ahem)
A rough-piece-of-work was in the witness stand, accused of assaulting an associate of his.
The barrister for his defence was trying to lead him carefully through his testimony:
Barrister: Tell us, in your own words, what happened.
Accused: Well, he came at me and I hit him a dunt in the bollix.
The Barrister notices a glare from the judge.
Barrister: Perhaps you could just rephrase that for the court?
Accused: Ah, yeh, sorry. He came at me and I, like, hit him a dunt in the… nuts.
Another glare.
Barrister: Again, although I said, ‘in your own words’, perhaps…
Accused: Oh, right, sorry…
The accused struggles for memories of biology lessons from his dim and distant past. He comes up trumps.
Accused: Right! (Clears throat) He came at me and I hit him a dunt in the… Testicles!!
At which point the judge loses patience and leans over to the accused, speaking clearly so the whole court can hear.
Judge: I think we all know where yer bollix are, Murphy, but would ye kindly tell us what a ‘Dunt’ is.