Sw-æp
Oh dear.
Go back whence you came, and take the legal opinion you got from the council with you. Somewhere, in a comfortable house in the suburbs, Noel Edmonds is silently shaking his head. At you.
This young, uncynical clerk[1][2], working on a credit-linked note one Friday evening, due to close on Monday. He has sent out his final draft, by fax, and is putting on his blazer and collecting his umbrella from the corner of the room when the telephone rings.
There is a moment — all young attorneys have it — where he considers walking away and letting the phone ring, but this is not in a lawyer’s nature. Our young fellow puts down his brolly and picks up the phone. It is a partner, now retired, from Stephenson Harwood, now dissolved, but not, even then, known for their derivatives practice.
Nonetheless this fellow announces he has been instructed by the client to review the legal documents. He wonders if he could have a couple of minutes to run through a few quick questions.
“By all means,” our young attorney replies .
“Now, the first thing: this Sw-æp agreement.”
Our man resignedly takes his seat. It is going to be a long night.