Remember Thy Law

I’m currently taking a breather from the truckloads of revision and heavy-duty readings that I’ve duly conducted for the past few weeks. And it’s only my first year reading law. Yes, it’s called reading law. Why? Because I like to sound like a pretentious douche. Whatcha gonna do bout that?

Just like any other regular students out there, I pretty much flushed the first six months of my course down the gutters, thinking that I’ll have plenty of time to catch up before the final examinations. It was a beautiful six months though, ah, memories. And now I pay the price, for it’s only one and a half month away from the finals. Insert yaoming.jpg if you wish to enhance the you-are-so-screwed effect.

And I actually have a 1,500-words mini thesis on Common Law that requires submission by the end of April where I too, have duly procrastinated the scripting of it and is no where near completion. If only I could copy chunks of my blog posts and paste it in between contents to fill up the word quota.

I like reading law, I mean, it’s something that actually interests me. It’s a whole different aspect in life to actually know things like how fraud works, what circumstances will render a sexual intercourse to be unlawful, what defences you can raise when you’ve accidentally killed a Bieber fan, y’know, shit like that. It really excites me, the learning part, of course, not the carrying-it-out part.

The whole problem with this agenda is the remembering-your-shit part. I’m not good at remembering shit. Case names, statutory provisions, judgments, quotes by judges etc. It takes me virtually two months to remember a girl’s name if she is not hot, one and a half if she’s hot. Moreover the sophisticated names of two angmohs (I really wonder why these angmoh fellas can’t use simple surnames like Li, Tan or Chan) who took up a court case to decide who should pay for the jar of peanut butter that they broke in a Tesco supermarket.

Okay, there’s no such case involving two men and a broken jar of peanut butter in Tesco. I made that up.

Well, we’re actually permitted to bring along this thing called a statute book during an exam. This magical book is an aggressively thin book that has all the relevant Acts of Parliament in it, whereby references are to be made when we intend to quote a piece of legislation in our answers. But truthfully, it is only as useful as a push-up bra. If you’ve got nothing on your chest, no push-up bra in the world can make you look like Pamela Anderson. Similarly, if you’ve got nothing in your brains, no statute book in the world can make you sound like Karpal Singh.

I admit lah, I am pretty good at talking nonsense sometimes. Well, most of the time, actually. But when it comes to talking law, I’m as serious as Lionel Messi when he attempts to dribble past the incoming defenders. Right, comparing myself to the legendary Messi is a tad too vain. Sorry. But that is to show how passionate I am for boobs. Wait, what are we talking about again?

But in all seriousness, I will definitely go all out in this one and half month’s time to cram every single piece of shit in my head. Yup, it’s about time I temporarily bid goodbye to my extensive memory of automobile specifications, football statistics and vital stats of supermodels in exchange for legal-related information. It’s such an emotional moment.

So the next time you see me and I can’t remember your name, blame the law. It took up my memory space that happens to be very scarce.

Tweet