Poker face

One of the most memorable moments of the election campaign was 'bigot-gate', when Gordon Brown was caught on microphone making less than complimentary remarks about Mrs Duffy. Possibly even more damaging was his reaction when he realised he'd been caught out and the tape of his comments was played back to him.

Not only did we get the truth, we got the despair. It really was a double whammy. Confronted with reality, Gordon put his head in his hands and'¦ got filmed doing that. As I have said before, Gordon really is no advocate. Any advocate worth his or her salt knows that you just don't give anything away.

Take the verdict: there you are, chewing the inside of your fingernails, desperate for the acquittal; because it still matters, whatever you think personally and irrelevantly, and if it comes you treat it well '“ well as, of course, it was to be expected: any pumping the air, tribal war dance or hoot of incredulity is reserved for behind the (firmly shut) robing room door. No: 'Not guilty' says the jury and you simply rise to ask for a defendant's costs order and articulate the charming formality of discharging the defendant from the dock. The judge makes the orders and thanks the jury for their time and effort on behalf of the county or the borough or the whatever, you tidily gather your things, bow politely and so on and leave court.

Don't react

And when disaster strikes and the guilty verdict comes in, you take it on the chin, look neither left or right as the long list of your client's previous convictions are read out so that you don't catch the eye of the charming juror who you are sure found you persuasive and laughed at your joke in your closing speech. You calmly ask for reports and bail, and then, after the thanks on behalf of the borough etc. and HHJ has left the bench, you leave court to start picking up the pieces. There is no what you really think, or head in your hands, or flouncing out, or nodding gratefully at the jury '“ you just do your job, impassively.

The same goes for the tricky witness '“ it could even be your client '“ who says something that you have never heard them say before, or does not say something vital that they should have said. Then internally the alarm bells are ringing and the decks are resounding to running feet answering the call to action stations as you feel the ship that is your case lurch heavily to starboard and begin to slip below the waterline. But you don't show it; you don't grimace, go pink or '“ heaven forbid '“ stick your head in your hands. Nor do you laugh. Once I only avoided laughing out loud by a combination of biting very hard on my pen and hiding behind a lot of lever arch files.

But let's not be so hard on Gordon. After all, we are all human beings and we all are sensitive to the times when we feel it has not gone well, and when we are incredulous that something has been said or not said totally unexpectedly. We all do have an opinion on the case, even though we pretend we do not. So we too have to exercise caution.

The walls have ears'¦

So, my message after a month or so of election campaigning is: never forget that you might be overheard. Leaving court late of a sunlit afternoon, safely '“ and with justification '“ believing that the building must be empty of jurors, it can be very tempting to start up a conversation about your case. And then find you have just walked passed one of your jurors. You might be on the train chatting about the case, and realise too late that everybody in the carriage can hear what you are saying. A grave sin is to fish out your brief and realise that everybody getting off the tube has just read your client's, or somebody else's, previous convictions.

We have to remember that we are that impassive, non-reacting (other than theatrically forensically) vassal. We '“ as we commonly thought of our teachers '“ have no life beyond the court room. We have no views, opinions, likes or dislikes '“ we have no sense of humour or despair. Once, years ago, after a conviction in a trial where I was on the prosecution side of things, one of the jurors got on the same bus going down Ludgate Hill and gave me a nod and a cheery smile, presumably expecting me to be pleased with him and his verdict. As a matter of fact I thought the verdict was wrong and would not have convicted. Wouldn't the juror have been shocked to have found that out? So I looked the other way and got out my paper. The juror must have thought me very rude.

So, memo to all fresh and eager advocates '“ remember Gordon and Mrs Duffy and learn: you never know who is listening when you are on your mobile or joking with your opponent, you never know who is watching when you express your exasperation. Remember always to be cool, calm, collected '“ and safe.