Avocat à la cour

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A lawyer as they say en Français — une aigle juridique. Not to be confused with an avocat à la cœur: a lawyer of lurve. Nor with advocaat, which is a hideous alcoholic egg-based brandy from Holland — I know, right — which was, bafflingly, once the subject of heated litigation which helped develop the English common law of passing off.

You might find un avocat à la cour sunning himself on a Parisienne boulevard, or taking café au lait with his chèr ami the Belgian dentist, on one of those achingly beautiful beaux-arts salons that line Avenue John F. Kennedy in Kirchberg, downtown Luxembourg city, en route to Aéroport Hercule Poirot for their annual, post coupon-presentation, autumnal Benzedrine-powered bender in Ibiza.

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