Courtroom waltz and the jingle of bail

Picture this: a politician, spring-loaded and perpetually popping up like a mischievous jack-in-the-box. He's got more bails than a cat burglar at a trampoline park. And yet, he's still doing encores going out and in of prison. The standard scene inside the courts is almost always the same, no matter his guilt or innocence. The courtroom doors swing open, and there he is, grinning like a Cheshire cat - without a muffler, of course in this heat - with a get-out-of-jail-free card. 'Your Honour,' he says, 'I promise not to flee the country. My passport is already in the shredder, and I've enrolled in a 'How to Be a Model Defendant' workshop.' The judge raises an eyebrow. 'Again?' 'Yes, but this time I've got character references.' He waves a stack of letters like a magician pulling rabbits out of a hat.

And thus, the dance begins. The Courtroom Waltz: one step forward, two steps back. Like something straight out of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland where the rousing command, 'Off with his head!' is inaudibly repeated so many times, that it takes on the form of a rap remix. The in-and-out of the politician underlines what many of us had vaguely muttered about before - that bail lies in the eye of the beholder. And if the court beholds things differently, it will be politely told to check its eyes again for power. Optical power, that is.