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{{a|work|
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[[File:Jolly contrarian.png|450px|thumb|center|A Queen’s Counsel — {{jerrold}}, to be precise — yesterday.]]
[[File:Aleebee.png|450px|thumb|center|A young {{Jerrold}} on his feet during the notorious “[[Aleebee]]” trial of 1982.]]
}}Senior, brainy, court lawyers. The [[JC]] is lucky enough to know a few, largely because he shares with them a fondness for [[cricket]]. They are excellent men and women, to a one, but they engage in a part of the legal process that the [[JC]] is committed to steering as clear of as he can: [[litigation]].
}}{{d|King’s Counsel|/kɪŋz ˈkaʊns(ə)l/|n|}}


Not just because suing and being sued is hard, gives you a tension headache and is beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps, but because the road is strewn with absurd conventions, unarticulated rules of etiquette and unspoken ways of behaving that you have to get ''[[Substance and form|formally]]''; right, hang whether you were right [[Substance and form|in ''substance'']]. That’s not just how the [[JC]] rolls.
Senior, brainy, court lawyers. The [[JC]] is lucky enough to know a few, largely because he shares with them a fondness for [[cricket]]. 
 
Until 2022 known as ''Queen’s'' Counsel (gawdblessah), King’s Counsel are excellent men and women to a one, but they engage in a part of the legal process of which the [[JC]] is committed to steering as clear as he can: [[litigation]].
 
Not just because suing and being sued is hard, gives you a tension headache and is beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps — all true — but because the road is strewn with absurd conventions, unarticulated rules of etiquette and modes of behaviour that you have to get ''[[Substance and form|formally]]''; right, hang whether you were right [[Substance and form|in ''substance'']].  


===Litigators are from Mars, commercial lawyers from Venus===
===Litigators are from Mars, commercial lawyers from Venus===
In legal practice, court lawyering is ''golf'' you see, and the [[JC]] is a ''cricket'' kind of fellow, not just in pastime, but by disposition. Litigation is combative: it has ''etiquette'' to mask a fundamental ugliness. Commerce is co-operative. “Being a good sport” is a point of [[substance]] and not [[form]].
In legal practice, court lawyering is ''golf'' you see, and the [[JC]] is a ''cricket'' kind of fellow, not just in pastime, but by disposition. Litigation is combative: its ''etiquette'' masks fundamental ugliness and pointlessness. None of the ostensible participants benefits. Commerce, on the other hand, is co-operative. “[[Non mentula esse|Being a good sport]]” is a point of [[substance]] and not [[form]].
 
There is also the small matter that, for a self-respecting contracts lawyer, even ''talking'' to a Queen’s Counsel — to ''any'' [[Litigation lawyer|litigator]], really — except one you are standing next to in the slips — ''is a confession of professional failure''. We commercial solicitors cannot notch our belt with conquests; there are no kill emblems pasted on our fuselage. We must take our pleasures another way. We play an [[Infinite game|infinite]], and not a [[finite game]].
 
We do this by our affability; our ''lack'' of rancour; we succeed when we see our clients going peaceably about their business, promenading down the high street in their finery, waving cheerily at us from the wheel of the fancy motorcar our careful stewardship of their affairs has helped them acquire.
 
We are like [[The dog in the night time|dogs in the nighttime]]: you know us because we do ''not'' bark. We mark our performance by the ''lack'' of cuts, scrapes, bruises and abrasions on our pretty faces. Our measure of success is contracts ''so clear'' that no one would ''dream'' of disputing what they mean.
 
===Sources of contract expertise===
For the most part, [[financial services]] professionals know enough of what they are about that their contracts — the “[[verbiage]]”, so to speak — don’t fall to be considered by the courts. When they do, it usually follows some cataclysmic failure, whereupon institutions that were conventionally understood to be immortal, impervious to even minor shortcoming and managed by enlightened auteurs turn out to have been in the ands of rank ''ama''teurs and glib morons.  


There is also the small matter that, for any proud contracts lawyer, even ''talking'' to a Queen’s Counsel — to ''any'' litigator, really — except one you are standing next to in the slips — ''is a confession of professional failure''. We commercial contracts folk cannot notch our belt with conquests; there are no kill emblems pasted on our fuselage. We must take our pleasures another way. We do this by our ''lack'' of rancour; we know we have done it when we see our clients going peaceably about their business, promending down the high street in their finery, waving cheerily at us from the wheel of the fancy motorcar our careful stewardship of their affairs has enabled them to acquire.  
Such revelations tend to be cyclical; over-lionised dullards may go years or even decades without being exposed. But, suddenly, ''[[Lehman]]'', you know. [[Enron]]. Our world is all at once awash with litigation — much of it conducted by, on behalf of and in front of people with barely the first idea about the complexities of financial services contracts; things [[subject matter expert]]s take entirely as read.


We are like dogs in the nighttime: you know us because we do ''not'' bark. We mark our performance by the ''lack'' of cuts, scrapes, bruises and abrasions on our pretty faces. Our measure of success is contracts ''so clear'' that no one would ''dream'' of arguing.
Now, just the same thing goes for litigators. Just as commercial lawyers hate litigation, litigators ''hate'' financial markets transactions. They’re hard, they give you a tension headache, they are beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps, and the road to their comprehension is strewn with absurd conventions, unspoken rules of etiquette and modes of behaviour that you have to get ''[[Substance and form|formally]]''; right, hang whether you were right [[Substance and form|in ''substance'']].  


===Sources of expertise===
Everyone knows it is ''much'' more fun cross-examining [[Mrs. Pinterman]] about her [[Aleebee|alibi]], establishing a [[mens rea|''mens rea'']] and objecting to things. I mean ''security waterfalls''? COME ON. But, and for just that reason, {{isdama}}s, which we in-house [[legal eagle]]s find quotidian and workaday, court lawyers regard as exotic if distasteful butterflies — moths, really to be pinned, labeled and enclosed in glass cages.
For the most part, [[financial services]] professionals know enough of what they are about that their contracts — the “[[verbiage]]” — don’t often wind up in court. When they do, it usually follows some cataclysmic failure, where institutions that were conventionally understood to be immortal, impervious to weakness and managed by enlightened auteurs turn out to have been run by morons. These discoveries tend to be cyclical; over-lionised morons may go years or even decades without being exposed. But, suddenly, [[Lehman]], you know. [[Enron]]. The commercial world is all at once awash with litigation much of it conducted by, on behalf of and in front of people with barely the first idea about the complexities of financial services contracts.


Now, readers, exactly the same thing is true of litigators. Just as commercial lawyers hate litigation, litigators ''hate'' financial markets transactions. They’re hard, they give you a tension headache, they are beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps, and the road to their comprehension is strewn with absurd conventions, unspoken rules of etiquette and modes behaviour that you have to get ''[[Substance and form|formally]]''; right, hang whether you were right [[Substance and form|in ''substance'']]. It is much more fun cross-examining [[Mrs. Pinterman]] about her alibi, establishing the [[mens rea]] and objecting to things. I mean security waterfalls? COME ON.
We commercial lawyers live with them, animate them, ''give them life'' every day of our careers. We know them, deeply, in a way no litigator, let alone a [[Queen’s Counsel]] ever could, ''or would want to''.  


So every now and then, Queen’s Counsel might see {{isdama}}s — like Clapham omnibuses, often quite a few come along at once — every decade or so, whenever a systemically important financial institution reveals itself to have been in the hands of morons. But for them, {{isdama}}s are exotic butterflies to be pinned, labeled and enclosed in glass cages. For we in-house [[legal eagle]]s they are a more quotidian experience. We live with them, animate them, ''give them life'' every day of our working careers. We know them, deeply, in a way no Queen’s Counsel ever could, or would want to.
===Who should answer curly questions on ISDAs?===
===Who should answer curly questions on ISDAs?===
Now every now and then, a curly question might arise as to the meaning of an {{isdama}}, or a {{gmsa}}, or a {{gmra}}. It might perplex [[Magic circle law firm|magic circle]] [[partner]]s — people who, let it be said,''wrote'' the damn things, back in the day —but to give those august men and women the benefit of the doubt, they don’t see so many master agreements these days. So if a practical person wanted a sensible answer on a curly question on how an {{isdama}} should work, who would she ask?
Now that being as it may, and however distasteful she may find it, every now and then a litigator walk into an {{isdama}} or two — like [[Clapham omnibus|Clapham omnibuses]], they tend to come along in clumps — should a thorny question arise, as to the metaphysical chassis or jurisprudential premise on which an {{isdama}}, or a {{gmsla}}, or a {{gmra}} is engineered. It doesn’t happen often but, when half a billion dollars is at stake, it is amazing how sharply the mind focuses on what might once have seemed a dusty academic conceptualisation. Philosophical questions like these — arcane, abstruse, recondite — are apt to perplex [[Magic circle law firm|magic circle]] [[partner]]s — whose predecessors, let it be said, ''wrote'' the damn things, back in the day — especially where they haven’t seen an actual ISDA cross the desk in fifteen years.  
 
So, if one wanted a sensible answer on just such a curly question, whom would a sensible person ask?
 
My friends, ''I'' would ask an expert. Someone who lives, breathes, and makes an honest livelihood out of manipulating these contracts. Who is daily engaged in the cut-and-thrust of disabusing the school leavers from Bucharest who are lined up against her, of the misconceptions in their [[playbook]]<nowiki/>s about the [[Delegation of depositary’s functions - AIFMD Provision|delegation]] arrangements in their [[Custody Arrangements and the Control Agreement - IM CSD Provision|custody form]]. ''Someone who has spent twenty years in the [[Documentation unit|doc unit]]''. 


Do you see where I am going with this? My friends, ''I'' would ask a down-home expert. Ideally, ''someone who has spent twenty years in the [[doc unit]]''. To be sure, end users are falling over themselves to rid themselves of these people and replace them with school-leabers in Bucharest, but they are a tenacious bunch. Many are still around.  
To be sure, end-users are falling over themselves to rid themselves of these people and replace them with [[School-leaver in Bucharest|school-leavers in Bucharest]], but they are a tenacious bunch. Many are still around. If anyone will know how an ISDA is meant to work, these people will.  


But this is ''not'' what [[magic circle law firm]]s do. Instead, they ask the one group in the world who charge ''more'' than they do, and who are ''less'' likely to have a practical clue what the right answer should be: [[Queen’s Counsel]].
Yet, by immovable convention it is ''not'' this cohort to whom [[magic circle law firm]]s turn in their moments of greatest need. Instead, they ask the one group in the world who charge ''more'' than they do, and who are ''less'' likely to have a practical clue what the right answer should be: ''Queen’s Counsel''.
{{sa}}
{{sa}}
*[[Inhouse legal]]
*[[Inhouse lawyer]]
*[[Magic circle]]
*[[Magic circle law firm]]
*[[Litigation]]

Latest revision as of 09:45, 20 October 2022

Office anthropology™
A young Sir Jerrold Baxter-Morley, K.C. on his feet during the notorious “Aleebee” trial of 1982.
The JC puts on his pith-helmet, grabs his butterfly net and a rucksack full of marmalade sandwiches, and heads into the concrete jungleIndex: Click to expand:
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King’s Counsel
/kɪŋz ˈkaʊns(ə)l/ (n.)

Senior, brainy, court lawyers. The JC is lucky enough to know a few, largely because he shares with them a fondness for cricket.

Until 2022 known as Queen’s Counsel (gawdblessah), King’s Counsel are excellent men and women to a one, but they engage in a part of the legal process of which the JC is committed to steering as clear as he can: litigation.

Not just because suing and being sued is hard, gives you a tension headache and is beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps — all true — but because the road is strewn with absurd conventions, unarticulated rules of etiquette and modes of behaviour that you have to get formally; right, hang whether you were right in substance.

Litigators are from Mars, commercial lawyers from Venus

In legal practice, court lawyering is golf you see, and the JC is a cricket kind of fellow, not just in pastime, but by disposition. Litigation is combative: its etiquette masks fundamental ugliness and pointlessness. None of the ostensible participants benefits. Commerce, on the other hand, is co-operative. “Being a good sport” is a point of substance and not form.

There is also the small matter that, for a self-respecting contracts lawyer, even talking to a Queen’s Counsel — to any litigator, really — except one you are standing next to in the slips — is a confession of professional failure. We commercial solicitors cannot notch our belt with conquests; there are no kill emblems pasted on our fuselage. We must take our pleasures another way. We play an infinite, and not a finite game.

We do this by our affability; our lack of rancour; we succeed when we see our clients going peaceably about their business, promenading down the high street in their finery, waving cheerily at us from the wheel of the fancy motorcar our careful stewardship of their affairs has helped them acquire.

We are like dogs in the nighttime: you know us because we do not bark. We mark our performance by the lack of cuts, scrapes, bruises and abrasions on our pretty faces. Our measure of success is contracts so clear that no one would dream of disputing what they mean.

Sources of contract expertise

For the most part, financial services professionals know enough of what they are about that their contracts — the “verbiage”, so to speak — don’t fall to be considered by the courts. When they do, it usually follows some cataclysmic failure, whereupon institutions that were conventionally understood to be immortal, impervious to even minor shortcoming and managed by enlightened auteurs turn out to have been in the ands of rank amateurs and glib morons.

Such revelations tend to be cyclical; over-lionised dullards may go years or even decades without being exposed. But, suddenly, Lehman, you know. Enron. Our world is all at once awash with litigation — much of it conducted by, on behalf of and in front of people with barely the first idea about the complexities of financial services contracts; things subject matter experts take entirely as read.

Now, just the same thing goes for litigators. Just as commercial lawyers hate litigation, litigators hate financial markets transactions. They’re hard, they give you a tension headache, they are beset with fiddly, procedural bear traps, and the road to their comprehension is strewn with absurd conventions, unspoken rules of etiquette and modes of behaviour that you have to get formally; right, hang whether you were right in substance.

Everyone knows it is much more fun cross-examining Mrs. Pinterman about her alibi, establishing a mens rea and objecting to things. I mean security waterfalls? COME ON. But, and for just that reason, ISDA Master Agreements, which we in-house legal eagles find quotidian and workaday, court lawyers regard as exotic if distasteful butterflies — moths, really — to be pinned, labeled and enclosed in glass cages.

We commercial lawyers live with them, animate them, give them life every day of our careers. We know them, deeply, in a way no litigator, let alone a Queen’s Counsel ever could, or would want to.

Who should answer curly questions on ISDAs?

Now that being as it may, and however distasteful she may find it, every now and then a litigator walk into an ISDA Master Agreement or two — like Clapham omnibuses, they tend to come along in clumps — should a thorny question arise, as to the metaphysical chassis or jurisprudential premise on which an ISDA Master Agreement, or a 2010 GMSLA, or a Global Master Repurchase Agreement is engineered. It doesn’t happen often but, when half a billion dollars is at stake, it is amazing how sharply the mind focuses on what might once have seemed a dusty academic conceptualisation. Philosophical questions like these — arcane, abstruse, recondite — are apt to perplex magic circle partners — whose predecessors, let it be said, wrote the damn things, back in the day — especially where they haven’t seen an actual ISDA cross the desk in fifteen years.

So, if one wanted a sensible answer on just such a curly question, whom would a sensible person ask?

My friends, I would ask an expert. Someone who lives, breathes, and makes an honest livelihood out of manipulating these contracts. Who is daily engaged in the cut-and-thrust of disabusing the school leavers from Bucharest who are lined up against her, of the misconceptions in their playbooks about the delegation arrangements in their custody form. Someone who has spent twenty years in the doc unit.

To be sure, end-users are falling over themselves to rid themselves of these people and replace them with school-leavers in Bucharest, but they are a tenacious bunch. Many are still around. If anyone will know how an ISDA is meant to work, these people will.

Yet, by immovable convention it is not this cohort to whom magic circle law firms turn in their moments of greatest need. Instead, they ask the one group in the world who charge more than they do, and who are less likely to have a practical clue what the right answer should be: Queen’s Counsel.

See also