Thirsty days in court as the Guinness trial keeps its head

value.

But with the prosecution still in full flow, and with the hearing of

Mr Ernest Saunders, Guinness chairman and chief executive during the

bitter takeover battle for the Distillers group, and three others,

likely to continue well into the autumn, Mr Justice Henry works hard at

bringing out whatever humour there is to be found.

He invites auditor Mr Howard Hughes of Price Waterhouse to hypothesise

on large payments made to individuals.

Suppose a payment of #350,000 had been made to say . . . a soothsayer

or astrologer, and the managing director of the company could authorise

such a payment, would that be the end of the matter as far as you are

concerned? Soothsayer? Astrologer?

Aptly named for a trial involving high finance, Howard Hughes will

have none of that. Even though the sum might be small in relation to the

total cost of a takeover he would want to know what the payment was for,

certainly to this type of individual.

If he suspected that there might be a fraud involved, and he was not

suggesting that was the situation in the current hearing, he would want

to speak to somebody else in the company, maybe even the board.

First, however, he would take legal advice.

''Why would you do that?'' the Judge wanted to know. ''After all you

are the auditor and all a lawyer would tell you was that you had

authority.''

It appears that Mr Hughes is a cautious man and would speak to his

lawyer to confirm something he already knew. It was a step that met with

the full approval of the prosecuting counsel. ''Far be it for me to

dissuade you from taking legal advice''.

This may not be the stuff that would pull them in at the London

Palladium, but here in Court No.2 at Southwark Crown Court it does bring

some light relief as the evidence unfolds at considerable length.

Mind you, having said that, it is not pulling in the crowds here

either.

Way back at the beginning of the trial the public chairs were all

taken up, as too were the press seats (they don't have benches in this

courtroom -- renovated at considerable expense to accommodate this

unusual trial). Now there are only five people in the public area. And

in the press area just four journalists stick it out.

At the beginning it became a ritual for Mr Saunders to share a jape

with reporters before the daily proceedings got underway. He will still

tell them a joke or two, but it is now no longer on such a regular

basis. Nevertheless when a strange face, such as mine, suddenly appears

he does take notice.

He is still taking notes of the evidence, but they are not as copious

as way back in February. Every so often he scribbles with a plastic

ballpoint on a foolscap notebook. A very large black briefcase, or a

small suitcase (it is difficult to tell which) full of documents is at

the side of his desk. There is no longer a dock in this courtroom. All

of the accused sit behind desks, albeit modest compared with those to

which they are accustomed.

His fellow accused, Gerald Ronson, uses a much more expensive gold and

black pen, but he is not so interested in the court proceedings. He

spends his day reading and writing business documents.

At the other end of the room sit the jury, well away from the

defendants, press, and public.

You have to admire them. As they listen to the witnesses there is not

the slightest sign of boredom from these eight men and four women good

and true who must by now be close buddies.

Juries at the best of times do a remarkable job, but words cannot

describe the heroics of this lot. The male jury members are in shirt

sleeves.

Just behind the court, tourists sunbathe on the Thames riverside walk

with views of Tower Bridge and HMS Belfast. While the jury soak-in

words, the tourists soak-in pints of bitter.

Given a choice, few of us would have little doubt where we would

rather be.

Even Mr Saunders' eminent and much admired brief -- Dick Ferguson, QC,

the only barrister qualified to practise in England, Wales, and Northern

Ireland -- would probably prefer to be enjoying his favourite beverage

(would you believe it is Guinness?) with the tourists.

This trial is a lawyer's dream. It looks certain to go down in the

Guinness Book of records as the longest-ever in this country. At an

estimate of #30,000 a day it is thought the final bill will be more than

#30m.

When it finally does reach a conclusion, Mr Saunders faces the

prospect of a second -- equally long -- trial also connected with the

takeover.

While the rest of Britain may well have forgotten about this trial,

Southwark Crown Court is now very central to his life.