Tulkinghorn: Midnight crass

Just when Tulkinghorn thought legal PR could sink no lower, something drops into his inbox that proves him wrong.

It won’t have escaped the notice of our more alert readers that last week brought with it the 24 hours of torture that is Valentine’s Day.

Thomas Eggar decided to celebrate by announcing – in a massive, bold ­typeface – the hire of a divorce law specialist, courtesy of the PR ­numpties over at Midnight Communications.
More like Goodnight Communications as far as any coverage of this ­tortuous attempt is ­concerned. Except that The Lawyer appears to have covered it. Oops.

Sassoon saloon

Vidal Sassoon styled the 1960s. He spawned a legion of imitators when he gave Mia Farrow her elfin bob in Rosemary’s Baby. But, as two (at one time) fresh-faced Ashurst partners ­discovered when ­trying – and continually failing – to book the firm’s (now defunct) private car and driver, there was another stellar name who was equally keen on the maestro of the mullet’s work.

Former senior partner Geoffrey Green is said to have been ­particularly fond of booking the vehicle to make sure he never missed an appointment with the great clipper. Shame he wasn’t still senior partner in 2009 and 2010, given that he was such a ­connoisseur of cuts.

Luvvie bruvvie

Most barristers tend to be the stars in their family. They are, after all, mostly intellectual heavyweights who have ­successfully built stellar careers in law.

Spare a thought, then, for Ben Hooper. The 11KBW barrister has been somewhat outshone by his brother over the past few weeks. The reason? His brother happens to be Tom Hooper, director of The King’s Speech, which in case you’ve mysteriously had no access to any form of mass media in recent weeks, is the British film on which hopes are pinned for Oscar glory at the end of this week.

Hooper – the younger barrister brother, that is – hasn’t missed out on all of the glam and glitz though.

He might not have secured a ticket to the Oscars yet, but he did manage to make the ­Baftas.

“Cheers bruv,” he no doubt could have been heard murmering between the interminable ­acceptance luvvie guff.