Saturday, 17 April 2010
Christopher Silvester: The DiaryThe Independent Sunaday 24 Sept
This year's Ebenezer Scrooge Award goes to David Cocks, QC, who has chosen the Christmas season to serve a summons on Felicity Hammerton seeking to end the £10,000 per year maintenance he pays for their lovechild child, also named David. Their one-year affair – he was her pupil master in chambers – took place in the 1970s. Earlier this year, it emerged in a parliamentary answer that Cocks receives almost £500,000 in fees for his prosecutorial work. At 71 he draws a state and a private pension, and also does private and and legal aid work, garnering another £200,000. He has a 200-acre farm in the West Country, which helps offset his tax liability. Felicity Hammerton lives on incapacity benefit of £74.56 a week and pays their son's university fees out of her modest savings. The son, who is registered disabled, wishes to continue full-time education. I have followed this sorry saga from the time when Cocks denied paternity on oath, through his efforts to exhaust Hammerton with legal ploys, through his attempts to take David out of private school, through criticism of his conduct by the Family Court – and now this. The hearing is set down for 3 January. I hope Cocks receives a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Future and is confronted with his hellish prospects.
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Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
ReplyDeleteIn death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
ReplyDeleteIn death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
ReplyDeleteIn death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams
ReplyDeleteIn death’s dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are
Sunlight on a broken column
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading star.
Hard to comprehend and dreadful abuse of power
ReplyDeletehow on earth could he where is his morality and moral reponsibility
ReplyDeleteutterly tragic
ReplyDeleteWe are the hollow men
ReplyDeleteWe are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass
Or rats' feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour,
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us-if at all-not as lost
Violent souls, but only
As the hollow men
The stuffed men
dreadful thinks moew of gis wifes commandments which blind him to the obligations ofhumanity and bloodline
ReplyDeleteit is a mystery of the highest order as to how a man can deliberate his life in such a way
ReplyDeletesad
ReplyDeleteSo self satisfied with his portion of the good luck pie cut with the knife of avarice consummed with the golden spoon of Middas
ReplyDeleteEvil is as evil does