My life’s work is
complete.
Yes, finally, I
have made my debut on American television.
Harvey Specter’s
love interest in Suits? Will’s love interest in The Good Wife? Judge Alex
Ferrer’s love interest in Judge Alex?
You will notice
in my list of hopeful projects that I have a certain penchant for law and
lawyers. I always have. In fact, so enthusiastic has been my desire to fight
for justice, my insurance company stopped supplying legal insurance because
they found that the people who took it out were the most litigious. Well, one
person in particular, to be precise. Faulty goods, stolen bicycles, bad repairs
– there is very little in life that I cannot meet with a response of “See you
in court.”
In Los Angeles, I
took a landlady to court for withholding a ridiculous chunk of my apartment
deposit. I won. My obsessive addiction to the court show Judge Alex had not
been in vain.
At present, I am
embroiled in heated discussions with a matchmaking agency who simply did not
deliver what they said on the tin. I specifically said I wanted a tall man – I
have never been out with anyone under six feet, despite being only five feet
myself. I told them I wanted a man who could protect me from a bear. They
hooked me up with a hobbit.
So, if and when I
was going to appear on American television, it was inevitable it was going to
be in court in some capacity, and hopefully not in front of Judge Judy when
Judge Alex took out a restraining order against me.
And, at last,
there I was, on Friday, on screen, in the front row of the audience at a taping
of Judge Alex in Los Angeles. A Facebook friend posted a still of me, sitting
behind a litigant. A very large litigant, actually, who kept blocking my view
of my hero. My expression is all but screaming “Get out of my way, bitch!”
although I managed to resist being thrown out for contempt of court, even
though contempt for the orange eyesore is etched all over my face.
Alas, this is the
last series of the show, so I feel I am now part of television history. Readers
of this blog will know how upset I was when my iPad was stolen and I thought I
had lost the interview I conducted with the Judge in Miami (actually,
“conducted” gives me an air of respectability I recall not having had on the
day; the interview I “drooled” might be closer to the truth), so the
cancellation of the show was always going to be a hara-kiri moment. Every time
I see the Fox logo now (it is they who have pulled the show), I spit blood.
Now, I’d like to
tell you that my courtroom performance was an award winning masterpiece, but
apart from the whiplash I suffered as a result of locking my neck at a 90
degree angle to keep the Judge in my line of vision throughout, I was strangely
unmemorable. It was, however, a performance of sublime control. No rushing up
to the Bench and trying to rip the Judge’s robe off; no trying to bribe Mason
the bailiff to get me closer; no begging the litigant to swop places with me;
no begging the Judge to handcuff me.
Maybe someone
will spot my talent. Maybe Suits will call and hook me up with Harvey; maybe
The Good Wife will get in touch, realising that Alicia should never have been
Will’s love interest and that what he needed all along was a short, dark, Welsh
TV critic.
Or maybe someone
will offer me a role in a movie as a hobbit. If all that fails, trust me on one
thing: this will not be my last court appearance.
I’m betting my
bail money on it.
