Jonathan is the other paralegal in my team at the corporate department of Big City Law Firm. He’s a nice enough bloke, but limited socially by his incredible commitment to law. Jonathan did a law degree, then a masters in law, then the BVC. In between he did mini-pupillages and vacation schemes. He spends his weekends participating in mooting competitions. At night I’m pretty sure he reads Blackstones while episodes of Judge John Deed play in the background.

However, I’ve been able to seek comfort in the fact that despite devoting his life to all things legal, like me, Jonathan couldn’t get a pupillage. Until last Wednesday.

Although he was remarkably - some would say smugly - calm and unflashy about it, word inevitably spread through the office and lots of the solicitors came over to congratulate him, squashing their midriffs into my face as they leant over to congratulate my younger, more successful colleague. Frantically straightening out a paper clip under my desk in order to jam it into my thigh to prevent myself from fainting with envy, I smiled, told Jonathan how thrilled I was and commented to other people in the office on how well he’d done.

I spent the rest of the day fighting off Jade Goody-like urges to tell the aggressive guy in the postroom that Jonathan had been dissing him. Thankfully though, I managed to limp through until the end of the day with my dignity intact.

The next few days involved me listening politely as Jonathan triumphantly chewed over his tale of success, savouring each glorious morsel like a mouthful of the Marks & Spencer ready meal he’d soon be able to afford nightly thanks to his generous pupillage earnings, which he devoted plenty of time to telling me about. Reminding myself that I’d surely have been no less smug if I’d bagged a pupillage, I managed to nod and smile weakly, until he began incorporating patronising titbits of advice into his millionth re-run of events.

Jonathan: “The thing is, you’ve gotta be honest – and confident! At the second interview, a middle-aged barrister came up to me and told me she’d studied at the LSE as well . . .”

Me: “I know I know, you’ve told me – another barrister joked that she might have been in the same year as you.”

Jonathan: “Yes, and I said, ‘No! That’s not possible, you must have been there at least 20 years ago! Honest, direct and confident – that’s the only way you’re gonna get one.”

About to lose it and scream that traffic noise had obviously muffled this winning line as no one would ever give a job to someone capable of saying something so moronic, I consoled myself with the knowledge that if Jonathan can find a chambers, anyone can.

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