Obiter was heartened to see the talent on display at a south-east regional heat of the Bar National Mock Trial Competition last week. The trials were conducted in a competitive but civilised fashion by teams of 17-year-olds from local schools.

The proceedings were not entirely unlike bona fide court hearings, although it was the first time that Obiter had seen defence and prosecution counsel told off by the judge for ‘squabbling’ among themselves. One witness saw fit to contradict the same judge, while one male counsel for the defence persisted in referring to the female defendant as a man. The long-suffering judge asked him: ‘Is it so very long since you last met your client?’

But dramatic as the proceedings were, the greatest show of emotion came at the end of the competition, when the realisation dawned on the 100 students, their teachers, the judges and barristers, a solicitor and the mayor of Maidstone, and of course Obiter himself, that we were all locked within Maidstone Crown Court with no obvious means of escape. It felt like a scene from Die Hard 15.

Obiter was about to transform into full Bruce Willis mode when fortunately an easier rescue plan presented itself; a quick knock on a door marked ‘Security Staff’ and a request to the gentleman who opened it as to whether he might allow us egress to the outside world – which, with a petulant jingle of his many keys, he duly did.