That’s a Whovian reference in the heading … poor Yvonne and her oily Cyber tears …
Fortunately, I didn’t do my (jury) duty yesterday … unless you count twiddling my thumbs in the arrivals hall for endless boring hours.
Should you ever be called up for jury duty, I strongly recommend taking a good book or a phone charger with you. Otherwise, resign yourself to reading old magazines and watching Dr Phil on the tellie.
Well, I quite enjoyed reading the old magazines – it was fascinating to trawl through the weeklies and see how they’re looking these days. Apparently Brad and Jen are planning a Hawaiian wedding – go them!
I also got very excited when it was announced on the tellie that the top signs you’re headed for a divorce – with a 94% guarantee of accuracy – would be revealed after the ad break.
Sadly, that’s when the tellie was turned off and I was ushered to the courtroom.
Dang and blast it! I’d really love to know what the signs are, I’m a bit over being married.
I was lucky enough to be assigned to a two-week case, which downgraded to a 3-5 day case once I was in the tiny courtroom. Courtrooms are much, much smaller than they appear on American TV. The one I squished into was no bigger than the average primary school classroom.
It’s a bit confronting to sit less than two metres from the accused.
And I have no idea how they were going to drag the case out for five days, since it involved something gun related that would get you high-fived by President Trump and also featured a bazillion cops as witnesses.
Although, I was a bit disappointed when my number didn’t come up for the jury – I thought a three-day case would be waaaaaaay preferable to a 10-week one like I got called up for last time.
But I was mainly relieved because it sounded a bit dull – despite the key piece of evidence being a loaded Smith & Wesson – and also because I’m supposed to take the youngest to the dermatologist on Wednesday morning.
Once the jury was chosen, it was back down to the holding pen for some more Dr Phil before finally being released into the sunlight when they ran out of cases for the day.
I immediately hustled back to the train station. I’m soooooooo not a CBD fan, I couldn’t even be bothered window shopping on the way. I just wanted to get the hell out.
Sadly, I don’t have a single funny story to tell from my day in Downing Centre purgatory. There was nothing amusing about it. Though it did put a big smile on my face to know I’ve been taken off the roll for the next 12 months as a reward for playing jury duty Russian roulette.
Oh, I forgot! I have one more tip for anyone wanting to reduce their chances of getting onto a jury – wear board shorts. The bloke wearing boardies and a surly expression whose number came up was immediately dismissed by the defence (the defence and prosecution both get to challenge and dismiss any jurors that they don’t think fit the bill).
Boardie guy was very relieved – he’d been loudly complaining to every official he could find all morning that he was too busy at work to be doing his civic duty.
Ain’t we all, bro.
Song of the day: The Cruel Sea “Better get a lawyer”