Keep the drunk judge

A lot of people have been calling for his honour Judge Nkola Motata to hit the road (rather than the fence this time). But I don’t agree. He has to stay. In fact we need more judges like him. No more of these hoity-toity men sitting up high in their robes, casting down their sombre sobriety on us plebeians. We need a man of the peeps up there. One of the drunken masses. A guy you can have a beer with and discuss your problems.

…I’m not a bad ou, your honour, I’m just down my luck … single or double?…

A judge is chosen for being impartial. What about being impaired? A drunk man will never blindside you with some fiendish intellect or outfox you with crazy legal talk. He may take a swing at you or try make you do karaoke or start drunk dialling his ex-girlfriend but he’s not going to outwit you. When a man is three sheets to the wind, he loses focus on the details. You can always slip one by him.

…No, your honour, they’re not mandrax, they’re just sleeping tablets…

So Motata likes one for the road. Who doesn’t? Everyone loves one for the road. Just look at the Christmas road toll in SA. There’s a lot of people getting one in before they drive. But it isn’t just South Africa. I googled one for the road and got 487 000 results. The whole world is down with it. In fact, Johnny Mercer wrote a song about it. Even old blue eyes sang that song. In Australia they’ve invented a word for it. They call it a traveller. A customary gift from a host to a departing guest. And always accepted with pleasure. And the Aussies know a thing or two about boozing on the job. David Boon could play a whole day’s cricket after fifty-two cans. Now, that’s a class action if I ever saw one. The Aussies also had a judge who got caught drunk driving. But they fired him. Bloody hypocrites!

Court cases have a tendency to be rather long. Too long. Everyone just drones on for ages. Half the time a court case will go on longer than the actual sentence imposed. Motata, he got 12 months, the case took two years. It isn’t like on the TV where they’re done in an hour. It’s not like L.A. Law. With its hot lawyer-on-lawyer action. There’s no sharp rebuttals or guys screaming, “I object!” Or throwing down some impassioned plea that moves everyone to tears. No they slowly grind you down with boredom. It’s like being stabbed to death with the blunt end of a spoon. Look at Schabir Shaik, his trial was so boring, he landed up in hospital with high blood pressure. But a drunk judge? He would put an end to that. There’s no ways his bladder could hold on for that long. Never mind when that babalas started to kick in. No, he’d be like: Right, what’s your problem? What have you got to say? Alright, done. You, five years, you, free to go. Bailiff, take these men down. I’ll be in the chamber, I mean, my chambers.

People say letting Motata back will destroy the rule of law. What did the rule of law ever do for South Africa? I’d prefer to stick to the rule of thumb. And the rule of thumb says you can’t trust a teetotaller. Especially not in a position of power. George Bush, he got off the sauce and looked what happened there. No, you want a guy who likes a beer. Obama, he likes a beer. He even held a beer summit to smooth things over between this crazy cop and old professor. He didn’t wail on this cop’s ass for arresting an innocent old black man just because he was at the scene of a potential crime. And he didn’t rebuke the professor for getting crazy at the cops when they were just trying to do their job. No, he said: Boys, we’re taking this to a higher court. We’ll let the beer gods decide. Because Barrack, he knows justice is best served in a frosty mug.

Your Honour, the bar awaits your return.