Politics and perjury

James Morton looks at the use of defamation laws by politicians and finally discovers what the butler saw

It comes as something of a shock that Scallywag - the defunct satirical magazine - nearly got it right when it said John Major was having an affair with his cook.

In fact, the cook was the innocent party and Edwina Currie the deceiver, at least of Norma Major.

All too often, politicians and personalities have used the courts to prevent the truth being made known.

The solicitor Lord Goodman was a classic example of the manipulating lawyer.

He was involved in the unhappy Crossman trial over suggestions that three Labour politicians had been drunk at a conference in Venice.

That action turned out badly for The Spectator magazine and was followed by the death of the reporter who had, as we now know, her facts right.

Lord Archer is another bad example of how our judges can be deceived.

The line goes on.

There is an argument that we might look to the laws of defamation in the US, where libel actions by people who could be described as public figures have an additional burden of proof placed on them so that generally they must show malice or recklessness.

Meanwhile, it might be a proper gesture for our former prime minister to return his damages.

On the subject of libel and damages and the related subjects of prison and perjury, it was suggested that the four years handed out to Lord Archer was the heaviest ever in a perjury case in a civil suit.

Not so.

Many years ago, a private inquiry agent was sentenced to five years following his conviction for perjury in a divorce case.

Had it not been for his family, said the judge, the man would have gone to penal servitude for life.

Lord Archer is, of course, quite right in one respect: many prisoners on day release follow a lifestyle which in no way resembles that intended for them by the authorities.

In one recent case, a convicted murderer had been sent to an open prison near Sudbury in Derbyshire and allowed out on day release to work at an animal sanctuary.

After a little while, he failed to appear at the animal sanctuary and was later spotted by an off-duty police officer in London with what were euphemistically described as 'some very unsavoury people'.

It transpired he had also been taking driving lessons.

Lord Archer would no doubt plead that his offence paled into insignificance compared with this and he is probably right.

His offence was the breaking of the 11th commandment and being caught.

My recollection is that he has already written a book of that title.

If not, I offer it to him.

***

I'm grateful to Alexander Kleanthous of Baker & McKenzie for answering my question on what the butler saw.

In fact, the reference comes from an article of the same name on the hearsay rule by Edward Griew in the [1965] Criminal Law Review 91.

I'm sure that if I reprint the whole exchange I shall not be breaching any copyright.

It is supposed to have come from evidence in a divorce case in those long gone but entertaining days when adultery had to be proved.

Q: Did you say anything to the butler?

Maid: Yes, I did.

Q: As a result did he do something?

Maid: He left the room.

Q: After a while did he come back and say something to you?

Maid: Yes, he did.

Q: As a result where did you go?

Maid: I went upstairs to the bedroom door.

Q: What did you do there?

Maid: I looked through the keyhole.

Q: And what did you see?

Maid: I saw what the butler said he saw.

James Morton is a former criminal law specialist solicitor and now a freelance journalist