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Struggling for ideas on what to gift your lawyer this year? We have devised the perfect gift guide for bosses, employees and colleagues alike.

Season’s greetings, friends. Silly season is upon us, and we’ve been given the honour of writing this year’s Christmas edition of LSJ’s silliest section – Avid for Scandal. 

Christmas is, of course, every lawyer’s favourite time of year. By the time Santa pops down your chimney (and yes, we still believe in chimneys), the courts will be closed and so too most of those deals your clients have been pushing so hard on. It’s a rare opportunity for clear headspace, calm heartsease and downtime with family.

That and presents, obviously. 

And friends, your authors have been very good boys this year – not a single time sheet submitted late, less than three professional negligence claims between us, and we dutifully shouted the entire team a drink after winning the $10 office sweep for the Melbourne Cup (middys of Carlton Draught all ‘round). Such noble deeds shouldn’t go unrewarded, and we think we’re deserving of a good haul this year. So we’re asking our true loves for a dozen presents – one for each of the 12 days of Christmas. 

After finishing our list, we realised we had compiled a complete catalogue of what all lawyers would want to find under the tree, so we decided to share it with you.  

One chance to redeem yourself after that time you accidentally call your Senior Associate “Dad” at the office Christmas party, before trying to save it by doubling down and explaining he really is like a father figure to you. 

Two occasions where you manage to speak intelligibly to the managing partner at Friday night drinks without accidentally spitting out a bit of a rice paper roll onto her lapel. 

Three solid meals a day, not taken at your desk. 

Four weeks’ extension to submit the expert report you’re working on. You know, that one about the patent that involves the analysis of rocks, or whatever it does? Seriously, how can they expect you to understand whether the other side’s device infringes the patent? The squiggly lines on the expert’s graph have not simplified things nearly as much as they keep saying.  If you had wanted to be a geologist you would have studied geology, rock? I mean, right? 


Six extremely keen summer clerks who are happy to tabulate folders for three days straight so the Court Book will be done when you return to the office in early-mid-late January. 

Seven-day weeks, where you only work five of them. 

Eight maids a milking (for some reason). 

Nine o’clock finishes being a thing of the past, at least during summer, when the days are longer and there’s still a prospect of some daylight when you wander out of the office. 

Ten business days during which you receive a cumulative total of less than 1,000 emails. 

Eleven years or fewer until you make partner. 

Twelve witness statements, eleven restraining orders, ten section 10s, nine interim injunctions, eight affidavits, seven search warrants, six statements of claim, five skype calls, four contract reviews, three civil writs, two cost disputes, and a real doubt about whether to do this next year. 

Merry Christmas.