Because sometimes, the law really does work. Back in October 2024, I wrote about Stephen Yaxley-Lennon’s (aka Tommy Robinson) 18-month prison sentence for contempt of court. I predicted that any appeal would be futile. Fast forward to April 2025, and the Court of Appeal has confirmed that prediction by dismissing his appeal in Yaxley-Lennon v HM Solicitor General [2025] EWCA Civ 476. Let’s break down the law behind it - and the judgment from the related judicial review - because the court’s reasoning is not just a win for procedural fairness. It’s a masterclass in how the judiciary deals with serial contempt and performative defiance. Contempt of Court: A Tool of Enforcement At the heart of the case was civil contempt: breaching an injunction imposed to prevent Yaxley-Lennon from repeating defamatory and dangerous claims relating to previous litigation. His breach was not only deliberate - it was proudly publicised. Civil contempt is not a criminal offence in the traditional sense, but

Today, the UK stood up. From London to Glasgow, queer people, allies, activists, students, workers — all came out in force to say: enough. We will not be erased. We will not be sidelined by a court judgment that dehumanises our siblings. We are here — and today, we were loud. I was proud to be part of it. To march shoulder to shoulder with people whose very existence was denied this week by the Supreme Court. Because make no mistake: For Women Scotland may have been dressed in the language of statutory interpretation, but it was always about exclusion. The people most affected were denied a voice in court. Today, they spoke for themselves — and I stood with them. We Were Never Meant to Disappear Quietly This afternoon, outside the gates of power, I saw something extraordinary: solidarity in its rawest form. Trans women holding signs that read, “Trans women are women.” Non-binary youth wearing badges declaring, “I am not your legal fiction.” Asexual activists standing in love and defian

My thoughts on the Supreme Court judgment in For Women Scotland Ltd v The Scottish Ministers As a gay man, I have often said I stand on the shoulders of giants. And I do. Giants who were queer, black, trans, loud, unapologetic. Giants like Marsha P. Johnson. Giants who made space for me to be here. To exist. To live openly. To walk down the street holding hands with someone I love (although even that doesn't feel safe anymore). To have some kind of legal protection, however fragile, in a country that only decades ago criminalised my very being. Which is why the Supreme Court's decision in For Women Scotland has shaken me to my core. Not just because of the legal implications, but because of what it says about who we are as a society. About whose lives and identities we’re willing to erase. About how much silence our highest judges are willing to accept in a case that directly impacts thousands of people - without letting a single one of them be heard. Let’s be clear: this judgment isn’

It took less than a day after the Supreme Court handed down its judgment in For Women Scotland Ltd v The Scottish Ministers for some to start celebrating it as a monumental “win” for so-called sex-based rights. Social media lit up with triumphalist declarations: "Biological sex is back!", "The courts have banned trans women!", and, of course, the usual anti-trans talking points dressed up as feminism. But before we get carried away, it’s time for some legal clarity. Because this decision? It’s far more restrained - and far less revolutionary - than many of its loudest supporters want to believe. The judgment doesn’t override the rights of trans people under the Equality Act 2010. It doesn’t make it lawful to exclude trans people from public life. And it certainly doesn’t roll back decades of human rights law or anti-discrimination protections. Let’s unpack what it actually says - and why it still leaves the door wide open to equality. A Question of Statutory Interpretation—Not Identity

Introduction Magistrates' courts are the backbone of the criminal justice system in England and Wales. Around 90–95% of all criminal cases begin and end in these courts. They deal with everything from minor assaults and theft to preliminary hearings for more serious offences. On the surface, the system looks efficient, accessible, and community-driven. But after years of watching the process up close, both as a law student and a working professional, I have come to a firm conclusion: the magistrates' court, in its current form, is no longer fit for purpose. In this extended post, I want to take a deep dive into the many reasons I believe it's time for radical reform. This is not a casual critique. It is a call to professionalise, to modernise, and to align the system with the basic expectations of fairness and legal integrity that underpin our justice system. I want to examine conviction and appeal rates, public trust, biases—especially in lay magistrates—and real-world case examples t

In my post about the For Women Scotland Ltd v The Scottish Misisters [2024] UKSC 42 case, I promised I would do my best to give an explanation of Scotland's court system, which is bifurcated into civil and criminal jurisdictions, each with its own hierarchy:​ Civil Courts Sheriff Courts: These are the primary courts for civil matters, handling cases such as family disputes, personal injury claims, and contractual disagreements. They have jurisdiction over cases with a monetary value up to £100,000.​ Court of Session: As Scotland's supreme civil court, it is divided into: Outer House: Functions as a court of first instance for significant or complex civil cases.​ Inner House: Serves as the principal appellate court for civil matters.​ Criminal Courts Justice of the Peace Courts: Handle minor criminal offences, such as traffic violations and petty theft.​ Sheriff Courts: Deal with more serious criminal cases, both summary (without a jury) and solemn (with a jury).​ High Court of Justicia