Whenever I despair that I might have missed my calling, I like to take a comedian or writer friend out for lunch. Lunch is always on me, of course.
And these friends always give me the same sort of advice. They tell me I should leverage the law: become like the Kochie of law – and make a name for myself educating folks about legal issues, just as David Koch did with finance. You even have the hairline for it, they say. And the lousy jokes, too.
The problem is that it’s already being done. Paul Brennan describes himself as a “legal cartoonist, author and speaker”. He has the right hairline and is arguably Australia’s best-known show-off of a lawyer.
I subscribe to his eZine Law and Disorder and have long been an admirer of his work – or more so an admirer of the fact he gets so much of it out there. He’s even been on Sunrise – interviewed by Kochie no less!
So when I found out that Brennan was launching his new book 101 Reasons to Kill all the Lawyers, I knew I had to attend.
I’d launched my own book a few years ago: 2002: A World Cup Odyssey – or how I learned to stop worrying and love the game. Lawyers Weekly reported: “Although it has taken Jucha eight years to publish what is effectively a series of blogs … he is still proud of his work.”
I was. And I thought Brennan deserved no less of an article.
“Welcome,” said the doorman, as I arrived at the launch. “Welcome to our Rotary meeting.”
He slid a Rotary ‘guest badge’ into my breast pocket, and ushered me in – slightly confused – just as the president was calling the meeting to order.
“The sergeant-at-arms will shortly do the rounds,” said the president “to collect donations for our next exchange student. And then our guest speaker, Paul Brennan, will speak and, once he’s finished, we will all buy a copy of his book.”
Brennan rose, and spoke about Rotary. He told us about being afflicted with ‘Post Rotary Committee Traumatic Stress Disorder’. He said sufferers of PRCTSD have learned – from Rotary – how to switch off without glazing over.
He went on to tell a long, tongue-in-cheek tale about the discovery of ancient legal scrolls which revealed that people have been making the same old legal mistakes for all time. And so lawyers have been giving the same old legal advice for all time. Clients were angry to find out they’d been paying for the same old advice again and again so lawyers had to develop the practice of sending their clients to other lawyers for independent advice to ensure their clients understood that their instructions contained the same old mistakes.
The PRCTSD-symptomatic audience appeared to absorb the story. They even clapped, and bought books, at the end. But they couldn’t quite conjure any questions or comments.
The president rose. “Now I know some of us have been wearing the very same club badges for 20 or 30 or – in one case – 45 years,” he said, as Rotarians patted each other on backs, “but, as we are about to merge with another Rotary club, we will have to start wearing new badges.”
He called the meeting, and era, to an end. I sought out Brennan.
“Congrats on the new book,” I said introducing myself. “Do you think it will sell?”
“Ha! I’ll be lucky if I cover my costs.”
At once, my heart sung (out of competitive envy) and sunk (from loss of hope). I told him about my own writing endeavours.
“It sounds like you’re following in my footsteps,” he said. “I think we’re on the same path.”
I stepped back.
“You mean, this … ” I said staring at the Rotarians, books under their arms, dutifully handing in badges. “This is on the path.”
Smiling, unglazed, he stared at the same scene.
“This is where the path leads.”
Oh my Koch.