'...don't mention it!'

Last week I was summoned to court to testify for the police in a case of fraud which was allegedly committed by a business acquaintance of mine.

The court's notification reached my place of work a few days before I was due to take the stand, and despite the short notice, I took half a day off, shifted my week around, rescheduled my life, and went to court to help the police in their case.

Soon upon arrival, it became very clear, very quickly, that even though I am a law-abiding citizen, and even though I had gone totally out of my way to help the state and the police in their case, the judiciary system was not about to grant me an iota of respect back.

First of all, rather than manage and plan appointments like every other civilised organisation, the court's administration find it by far more convenient, to summon all the peasants at exactly the same time. Repeat offenders, accused criminals, defendants, plaintiffs, and witnesses like myself, are all notified to turn up at the Law Courts at 9:00 am, and then proceed to wait hours on end for their highnesses' convenience.

There I stood waiting in line with tens of cigarette-sucking men, wearing their ill fitting Holy Communion jackets and white ties shorter than their shoe laces.

The slow moving queue spilled out on to the street and into the pouring rain, and there we waited until we were all individually scanned for bombs, guns and anything that beeps. After being frisked by a plastic baton, I tried to look for the hall in which my case was going to be heard in.

Soon enough I found out that the Magistrate who was supposed to preside my case was not due to attend court at all that day. Get this...the case had not been deferred or cancelled on the day.

On the contrary, it was never going to be heard on that day but I was never notified. Please note that had I not turned up in the first place, I would have risked a €100 fine and an arrest warrant for the next hearing. Of course I was later sent a huge ‘We're Sorry' card from the police force and a bouquet of roses from the Magistrate. (NOT) .

A few days later I received the second summons, and once again I took a day off work, rescheduled my life around, and obediently turned up at court at 9:00am.

Once again I queued patiently with everyone else, and proceeded to have my self-respect compromised, patronized and quite literally abused. This place is intended to safeguard people's rights, and ironically this is precisely where I feel totally stripped of any form of dignity.

I sat down on one of those stiff corridor benches and waited patiently. Hours later I was called in, only to be asked to wait inside the hall.

The person who I was about to testify against, was allowed to sit next to me and we conversed in full view of the Magistrate and the policeman who had summoned both of us. Just before our hearing, there was another case involving a fifty year old woman accused of stealing casino chips. She was wearing skin tight jeans, a breath-constricting top, and a bleach blonde pony tail held up with a bright red rose. She looked disoriented and her face unequivocally read ‘what am I doing here?'

The policeman, who had pressed the charges against her, started off by saying that the woman had admitted to stealing the chips and returned them to their rightful owner but with a perplexed look of sheer and utter annoyance, and with the most condescending voice that she could muster, the Magistrate jumped right in to inform the policeman that the woman in front of her had already been found guilty and sentenced for her crime.

This case had been closed for months, the poor woman had already served her probationary sentence, but she was brought back to court because of some administration mistake....of course she too received the apologetic card and bouquet of flowers! (NOT).

Now the Magistrate needed a break, so she told the usher ‘habbat ftit' in order to announce her exit with a thunderous knock. We stood up (with respect) and proceeded to wait for another half hour until she returned. By this time my head was spinning, my sugar level was reaching an all time low, and my bladder was about to burst. Another deafening knock, another standing ovation (with respect), and she was finally back.

Within seconds I was being motioned to quickly take the witness stand. I had been sitting there for three hours and suddenly, now, everyone was in a hurry. The Magistrate swore me in the whole time hardly bothering to look at me. She then asked me to state my name, surname, my father's name and my full address.

Please note that the accused, whom I was about to testify against, was in the room, and there I was giving him full details on where to find me later!

Finally the policeman proceeded to ask me some relevant questions, but the moment I opened my mouth to answer him, the Magistrate stopped me (very abruptly) in my tracks. Perhaps she realised how unethical it was to have the accused in the room whilst I was about to testify against him, perhaps she was about to have him removed from the room, or perhaps she was going to apologise for the undue waiting, or for not turning up the week before.

Perhaps she was going to respectfully explain to me why I had not been notified about the new date of the hearing, or perhaps she noticed that I was shifting my weight from one leg to another and needed desperately to go to the loo.

What was I thinking?

The reason she stopped me was by far more important than any of these niceties. It transpires that the sunglasses which I habitually wear on top of my head to keep my hair from blinding me are considered a source of grievous disrespect, the gravity of which cannot be ignored and that's why my testimony had to be stopped. Once I removed the offending object from my hair, I was allowed to continue with my testimony. Who the hell comes up with these rules?

Who decides that wearing sunglasses on your head is disrespectful towards anyone? Who dreams these regulations up? Are they written anywhere or do they make them up as they go along? I finally finished testifying and was asked to leave (quickly).

The chorus of Thank Yous that followed me out into Republic Street was overwhelming, and the appreciative handshakes were almost embarrassing. In fact the experience was so pleasant that I can't wait for the defence lawyer to summon me for counter questioning. This will be the third day this month that I will be donating to the courts...but it's ok really... don't mention it!