Wednesday, 9 May 2012

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen...

...I shall be tweaking the nipples of fear!" Good old Joe Pasquale.

Mummy's statement arrived today.

Of course, it arrived late, and by email, which no self-respecting solicitor accepts as service. It also arrived after I had written to the court to draw their attention to the fact that not only was it late, but I had emailed David Cobern to remind him, over two hours before the deadline.

David is very anxious that I shouldn't share any of the content of this statement, or anything else to do with the proceedings, publicly. This is in common with most people, and most cases, connected to family law, because nobody wants the world to see how families and children are treated by this industrial mincing machine. You will recall, though, that this blog has been causing consternation to David's client for around about the same amount of time that I have been back at court trying to get things sorted out for you (but not before - at least, not since last time we were at court... see the pattern emerging?!).

As part of his 'appeal' to me (yes, he did use that word) he helpfully referenced the Family Procedure Rules and their associated practice directions.

Of course, the problem is that unless our readers happen to recognise your face, they don't know who any of the parties, or the child, in our case, is, because I only name people who work in the industry, who are involved in many, many cases in the South West of England. Even the most recent of my pictures of you are now almost half a lifetime out of date, so what are the odds on a random stranger finding an anonymous blog and working out who we all are? There are, in any case, more efficacious means of dealing with the specifics, like parliamentary privilege, and the Data Protection Act.

Let's just remind ourselves that over a year ago, I was told I had until the end of the afternoon to pull this blog down, or face an application to the high court for an injunction. That didn't happen, even when other people were paying, and now that Mummy's legal aid has run out, it's a brave person with debts running into tens of thousands, who takes on a man who already has lost his income and whose only 'asset' is a house worth less than he owes on it, jointly owned by the other party.

For the first time, today, I saw some semblance of half an explanation as to why Mummy separated us - and it's based on things she claims to have discovered after she did so, which is an interesting chronological concept.

The central claim is that my association with you, and your experience of having me as your Dad, was an unhelpful one, and that the status quo, that of bastardisation, is best for you.

I could make all sorts of running, and they would be good arguments, substantiated with truth and evidence, about the flimsiness and desperation of the claims Mummy is scrabbling to make that I was a bad influence on your life that you are well rid of. But there is no need, even in anonymity, to go into that level of detail.

Because I have too many pictures, and too many hours of video, of a happy, contented, relaxed little boy of two spending time with his Daddy, for anyone ever to believe that load of old cobblers. And as of this week, I am going to be saying less, and sharing more and more of those.

The court is unlikely to lower itself to personalising your case to the extent of looking at pictures and video of you. Previous judges have refused; if they had to do that for all the children whose lives they tinkered with, whose families they smashed and helped to steal, they might find it harder to sleep at night.

But you just look into your own eyes, son - and you will learn about the Dad you lost.

Plenty more where that came from.

Love from Daddy.

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