Justice Cudlip Trout, who has been disciplined and banished to Gardening Leave, finds the telephone still rings.
I was fertilising a promising marrow - this is what Gardening Leave is about - when I received a begging call from Dickens, the ancient clerk who runs the Court lists in Christchurch.
''Pardon, Justice Trout. But we need an outside judge to take over a tricky case,'' he wheezed.
''It's the Boys from St Bede's affair. The media have run riot with it, so I'm afraid the rest of the bench has fled to the hills. We're desperate.''
As I've cancelled my newspaper, and I don't believe in the internet, I had no idea what he was talking about. However I have a soft spot for Dickens, so I had him brief me on the case: ''There were these two lads selected for the St Bede's rowing team,'' Dickens began.
''The boys donned their school blazers, were cheered through the gates, and set off for the North where they were to row for School and St Bede. All went swimmingly, until they arrived at Auckland airport.
''Unwisely the lads were left unsupervised. Next thing these young tykes have jumped on the baggage carousel, and surfed it - out through the flaps, and round the back. Doubtless they gave the finger to the blokes who load the suitcases,'' said Dickens.
''That's terribly funny,'' I chortled. ''So did they catch the workers rifling the baggage, or were they all on tea break? I presume the boys got six of the best, and were sent out to row harder?''''Justice Trout - you forget. Schools may no longer cane.''
''Yes Dickens, of course. Punishment has become unfashionable. Apparently it creates victims. In my day the Rowing Master knew that sore bums meant better performance. Did you know that a rowing eight, freshly caned, improves three strokes a minute?
''Anyway - what did St Bede's do?''
''The airport crowd whinged about their precious security regulations, so the school tossed the kids off the team. Next thing the boys' dads are in court seeking an injunction against St Bede's, so that their boys can still row for glory. It's rich buggers using the law, your Honour. It's not fair,'' Dickens complained.
Dickens gets Bolshie. He forgets that in New Zealand, justice is open to everyone, just like Matakauri Lodge is. And that in early times the poor folk had to struggle by with just The Ten Commandments.
Now it's vastly improved - there are at least 10,000, a big chunk of them at airports. However, I know Dickens.
If he thinks a case is hot, it's hot. I did the sensible thing and informed him that Cudlip Trout was not available for Rich Parents v St Bede's, because he had a stonking great marrow to manure. However, I re subscribed to the newspaper out of curiosity.
You'll have read the ongoing story, which I think is being covered in the comics section. The rich folk won a temporary injunction, so their lads rowed into minor places. And with that done, surprise, surprise, both school and parents backed off.
St Bede's has a ''reintegration'' plan for the miscreants, and has directed that other students are to ''support their peers''. I'm not sure what all that means, but you'll find it in The Crisis Management Handbook.
In simpler times, I had an admired teacher called McKenzie, who, as he pulled out his cane, would beam and say: ''Bend over son. We'll get this done, then afterwards we can be the best of friends.''
School ''justice'' can't work in the same way as the courts. And there is a famous truth about becoming embroiled in the legal system. You enter it as a pig, and exit as a sausage.
John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer.
