At this time of economic meltdown, it is fitting that solicitors should be using their downtime creatively.
To that end, we offer you the opening paragraphs of a new surreal novel by valued Gazette contributor, Anna Gramm.
If you look closely you’ll see that Anna’s magnum opus namechecks a goodly number of eminent law firms.
A bottle of champagne for the first three readers to spot all 16 (or nearest offer). Email: obiter@lawsociety.org.uk.
(Editor’s note: Yes, we know we need to get out more).
Stepping on to the lonely veranda, I noticed the ant killers had begun their work. ‘See dis fresh elf?’ one of them said. ‘Pip Alder is his name. Lawyers’ ingots, that’s all he’s interested in. Us trash are not worthy.’
‘Lawyers? Crook enablers more like!’ I replied.
He’s served notice too: ‘That old, addled washrag, use it to clean your hands mom,’ said Pip. ‘Nebular smogs can be rinsed away.’
When she’d washed her hands, Hillary put her wits to good use, baking cream flans.
That Baldric, ‘e hurts her, but she keeps on baking. What a bind, man’s inhumanity to man. Ah well, Hills. Never mind.
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