Wow, it's a week of first's, which is just a tincy-wincy bit obvious as this is my FIRST week of uni-ma-versity. Before I delve into any details about my lecture, I want to discuss what my life as a commuter is like. There's probably one word that sums it up more than anything: tiring. Here's an example from today:
I went to sleep around 3am for a number of reasons, namely that I was updating this thing until 2, then I just couldn't sleep. I finally drifted off and after what felt like seconds my alarm was screeching at me from my phone. I want you to imagine how peaceful and calm the sea sounds as it's lapping onto a stunning, glowing, golden beach. Then I want you to understand that my alarm sounds NOTHING like that. In fact, it sounds exactly like a danger alarm in a nuclear reactor. 40 minutes later I'm up, showered and ready to hop in my car (as a first car I felt it deserved a name, so he's called Lionel). The route I take to university is a back road that takes you through teeny Romsey and then some even smaller villages. It's lovely, picturesque and... Lethal. Half way down the road there was a police diversion, ambulances with more sirens wailing and some very distraught people. I eventually got to the park and ride, again just missing the bus. Eventually another one turned up, by this point it was 9:30. When I got to uni I had 15 minutes to grab a bite to eat and find my lecture room.
If you were to ask me what one major thing I learned today, my answer would be simple. Today I learnt that people eat bricks. Human beings, humanoids, intelligent apes, whatever you call us, we eat bricks. House bricks, to be precise. It would be ludicrous to suggest that anyone would eat breeze blocks, I mean, have you seen how unappetising they look? All grey, brittle and clay-like. Give me regular bricks any day; they're a wonderfully rich reddy-orange and they only come in single portions. This obviously shows that they have potential to be served in Michelin Star restaurant, so why not beat them to it and make your own delicious dishes? My one complaint? They're a bit dusty. So, Marjorie Dawes, I've decided that I do not want to eat any more dust.
There are two sections of the human rights act that share an equal importance in journalistic law, and not one has any waivering right over the other: Section 8 and Section 10. They're very simple in premise; as I discovered in McNae's, Section 8 covers one's right to privacy, whereas Section 10 fits loosely around freedom of expression. Put into practise though and they are both very complex commodities and they can be argued against each other until one person is a rotting skeleton. This is where the rambling about the brick comes in - the person has some sort of fantangled medical condition, and though I do not know the ins and outs of it, I can assume that it makes bricks look like the best thing since, well, sliced bricks. Anyway, if the poor soul decides that they don't want their story published, they can argue against its publication citing Section 8 of the human rights act. However, a journalist may disagree and say that everyone wants to know about brick-eating people and will argue such using Section 10 - the right to publish stories that are in the public interest. A judge must therefore weigh up the two arguments and decide which one is more relevant.
Civil courts tend to deal with the boring guff of the legal system, be it parking tickets, speeding fines or divorces. However, they can provide some of the 'scandalous' stories you'd find in publications such as 'Heat', 'Now' and 'Celebrity Fuck Ups.' In my opinion, even in these rivetting cases, the news about Katie Price marrying and divorcing a donkey on the same day is still no more news-worthy than anyone else being as stupid. To be honest I feel that this part of the media lives off dumb bimbos such as Katie Price and Kerry Katrona. In Bolivia these two would be executed with pencils for being so consistently pathetic. Of course, comment is cheap, so I can say as much of this as I like. It's all true and all my honest opinion, so unless you want Section 10 slammed up your rectum, ladies, I wouldn't try to argue against it.
Criminal courts, on the other hand, are where the all the action takes place. The farmer that went on a chainsaw rampage? He'll go there. Who wouldn't want to sit in on that case? Actually, I can say that I would avoid it and here's why: shorthand is a bugger to master as it is, so I imagine that it can only be worse when you can't understand the accent and dialect of the defendant.
The easiest way to differentiate between the two, whilst using big legal terminology, would be that criminal courts deal with 'inditable' cases that carry a sentence, whereas civil courts deal with 'non-iditable' cases such as small fines and libel claims.
What I do find humorous is that the retired, Tory, turnip-nosed do-gooders who you find volunteering in magistrates courts up and across the length and breadth of the UK, must see cases that involve mass-murderers before they reach the Crown courts. This will be a situation where a referral is all that is needed, but I'm sure that won't stop them quaking in their plastic shoes and cheap trouser suits. They probably put double-sided tape on their wigs to keep them on as the cold-blooded pig farmer stares at them with his cold, unforgiving eyes that contain the scorched souls of the people and pigs who met their ends at the teeth of his chainsaw.
Winchester hosts the court that is second only to the Old Bailey in terms of importance in this country. If the Bailey is full, cases will take place here. This is where shit gets real; the judges wear gowns and wigs, and the barristers battle it out for supremecy. It's like Helms Deep all over the gain, except with uglier trolls.
There are two standards within the industry: the standards of truth and the standards of proof. In basic terms, the standards of truth suggest that a journalist should always be sceptical and not believe the first thing they here. In contrast, the standards of proof are much more complicated. In civil courts there has to be a 'balance of the probability.' This is to stop Mr. Thug N. Idiot storming in with his knuckles dragging along the floor and declaring that his 16 year old wife and mother of three has probably been putting herself about with the boys in the year above her. There has to be some form of evidence to support the probability of this happening. For example, if she stinks of a cheap aftershave one of the 'boys' uses then there is a higher probability that she did it.
In criminal cases a conviction can only be made if it is seen as 'beyond reasonable doubt.' There are three key things that the police look to whilst making a conviction and they must have at least one of them in support: confession, forensic evidence and eye witnesses. As far as confessions are concerned, the police must still be wary as if they over-do their questioning the defendant may make a false confession. This happened to a 15 year old boy who, for some unknown reason, confessed to raping and killing an 80 year old women. He didn't do it. The true murderer and rapist (I'm allowed to say this because the man was convicted) was found years later.
So, I'm still tired, still yawning and wishing I was still in bed, but at least I can now find myself a brick to replenish my energy. Tasty.
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