Stephen J. once said that the drafting of a statute should aim at a degree of precision which a person reading in bad faith cannot misunderstand; and it is all the better if he cannot pretend to misunderstand it. The decision of the Appellate Committee of the House of Lords in Anderton v. Ryanshows how difficult, if not impossible, it is to achieve these objectives.

This article focuses on a particular aspect of the operation of proprietary estoppel: it asks when a proprietary estoppel claim will give rise to a property right. The inquiry proceeds on the linked assumptions that proprietary estoppel is a means of acquiring rights and that rights thereby arising take effect immediately, without the need for any court order. Like any other means of acquiring rights, proprietary estoppel can give rise either to personal rights or to property rights: in some cases the estoppel claimant is acknowledged to have a personal right (e.g. to damages or a licence to use land); in others a property right (e.g. a lien; an easement; a lease; or a freehold). The central argument of this article is that proprietary estoppel should give rise to a property right only if that is necessary to protect the claimant’s reasonable reliance. Where a personal right gives sufficient protection that will have to do, whatever the claimant may have been promised or expected; this may well mean that the circumstances in which a property right arises are more narrow than has been thought.

BARRY Beavis fought the law of contract and the law won. To the disappointment of motorists nationwide, he failed to show that an £85 shopping centre parking fine was an unenforceable penalty at common law (or under the Unfair Terms in Consumer Contracts Regulations 1999). Ironically, he lends his name notwithstanding to a leading case which confirmed the existence of the penalty doctrine (a joined commercial challenge also failed on the facts): ParkingEye Ltd. v Beavis; Cavendish Square Holding v El Makdessi [2015] UKSC 67; [2015] 3 W.L.R. 1373.

The preliminary ruling by the European Court of Justice in the Seymour-Smith and Perez case about the scope and meaning of indirect discrimination has done little to clarify this perplexing concept. The ruling does not tell the thousands of short-service employees whose claims were stayed pending the litigation whether the qualifying period of two years’ continuous service for the right not to be unfairly dismissed is contrary to Community law. Nor does it provide clear standards by which disparate impact is to be tested, nor the relevant time for assessing the legality of an allegedly discriminatory measure, nor the conditions for establishing objective justification. More generally, these proceedings under Article 177 (now Article 234) of the EC Treaty reveal a failure by the Court to perform its function of facilitating the national court in interpreting and applying Community equality law in a way which would be consistent and uniform throughout the Union.

DURING the 19th century American law (as, indeed, English law) was open to foreign influences. Foreign creativity was welcomed, not seen as an attempt to interfere with American values and life by telling them how to ordain their affairs. English statutes, mainly on matters of private law, would thus reach the westward expanding United States with a jet lag of anything between 10 and 20 years. Decisions of the highest English courts would also be followed, within about the same period of time, unless local conditions made their adoption undesirable. Occasionally and increasingly local courts also developed the courage to challenge the wisdom of the progenitor system, displaying not only growing intellectual confidence in their own, but also showing the flexibility that is found in societies which have the mixed blessing of a shorter tradition; but when they did so, they invariably felt the need to explain why they chose to go down another path. The reasons given for distinguishing or rejecting the parent model were often informative about both systems. American courts were thus among the first which would allude openly to the policy reasons which dictated their results.

In Gencor v. Commission (Case T-102/96, judgment of 25 March 1999, not yet reported) the Court of First Instance of the European Communities favoured a bold construction of the jurisdiction of the Commission and of the concept of joint dominance in merger cases. The judgment is also likely to have implications beyond the context of mergers for the use of Article 82 EC to control oligopolies. The case concerned the proposed merger of the platinum and rhodium operations of Gencor, a South African company, and of Lonrho, a company incorporated under English law. In particular, Gencor and Lonrho sought to acquire joint control of Implats, the South African company that brought together Gencor's activities in the platinum and rhodium sector, and through Implats, of the two South African companies that brought together Lonrho's activities in the same sector. The arrangements were notified to the South African competition authorities and to the EC Commission. The South African authorities did not oppose the merger. The Commission, however, issued a decision (Commission Decision 97/26/EC (O.J. 1997 L 11/30)) pursuant to the EC Merger Regulation (Council Regulation 4064/89 (O.J. [1989] L 395/1)) declaring that the proposed concentration was incompatible with the Common Market because it would lead to the creation of a collective dominant position between the entity arising from the concentration and Amplats, the leading world-wide supplier of platinum metal. Gencor challenged the decision of the Commission before the Court of First Instance.

The corporate director is subject to duties of good faith and loyalty. As he stands in a fiduciary position vis-à-vis the company on whose board he sits, he is subject to strict obligations of self-denial. Indeed, ensuring adherence to an absolute rule in this regard is justified by the need to control, albeit in a necessarily imperfect and arguably ineffective manner, the exercise of discretion by the director who stands in an undoubted position of power with respect to the company. A director therefore is obliged to avoid a conflict of interests and is prohibited from profiting from his office. What then of the erstwhile director?

Hart and Honoré's book is a thorough and scholarly study of the concept of causation in Anglo-American law. Closely reasoned, with full reference to the literature and a considerable treatment of Continental theories, it represents a serious attempt to restate the law in tort, contract and crime in an intelligible way. In future, any serious student of the subject will have to take note of it. Unfortunately for the authors they have backed a loser in supporting Re Polemis and criticising the foreseeability test; and since much of their argument depends upon their opinion on this question, their book must now be accounted largely out of date, if the decision of the Judicial Committee in The Wagon Mound receives the acceptance that seems probable. In respect of the general theory of causation, however, the discussion retains its intellectual interest; and the chapters on contract and crime, though relatively short, are largely unaffected by The Wagon Mound.

This article uses the advancements in artificial intelligence as the starting point for consideration of the role of human inventorship in European patent law. It argues that human inventorship is a necessary condition for the existence of an invention and inventive step, with the result that only products of human inventorship merit European patents. It identifies failings of European authorities to reflect this adequately in their approaches to determining patentability. Finally, it recommends recognising human inventorship as an implicit patentability requirement being an aspect of the statutory requirements for an invention and inventive step and extending applicant's disclosure duties correspondingly.

If a baby is born alive only to die some time afterwards from pre-natal injury, for what crime is the perpetrator liable? Coke considered that if the injury was caused after quickening by an attempted abortion or by a violent assault upon a pregnant woman, the answer to this question was murder, even if the defendant did not intend or foresee death or serious injury to a fully-born child. The purpose of this article is to evaluate Coke's rule together with the authority in support of it and to consider whether, if it still exists today, it ought to be incorporated in the proposed Criminal Code.

This article attempts to explain the meaning of the term “constructive trustee” and to understand why allegations of personal liability on the part of third parties to trusts are pleaded in the language of constructive trusteeship. The author concludes that the language of constructive trusteeship is dictated by the structure and historical context of the trust. Although this terminology could usefully be abandoned, an understanding of its origins suggests that as a matter of linguistic logic there is no room for third party liability which is somehow different from liability “as a constructive trustee.”

The Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999 allows third parties to sue for breach of contract even though they are not parties to the contract. The Act also allows third parties to take the benefit of other types of promise, notably the benefit of exclusion clauses. This article explains the common law background to this important legal development and the Law Commission’s preparation for this legislation (L.Com. No. 242). But the main discussion is devoted to the Act’s effects. In particular, the author examines in detail the test for ascribing to a third party a right under the 1999 Act and the rules determining when the third party’s rights cease to be revocable by the main contracting parties.

It is forty years since Professor Newark wrote despairingly of nuisance that “the subject as commonly taught comprises a mass of material which proves so intractable to definition and analysis that it immediately betrays its mongrel origins.” The “truest dictum in the books” was that of Erle C.J., who had once said in answer to the question, what is a nuisance?, that it was “immersed in undefined uncertainty.” Little has changed since 1949. Public and private nuisance still face life together in the textbooks, the universities and the law reports, despite the convincing evidence all round, much of it gathered in Newark's article, that they have little in common except the accident of sharing the same name. Making hoax bomb calls, obstructing the highway and holding a badly organised pop festival are as vulnerable to a public nuisance action as are the more traditional occurrences of special damage from atmospheric, water and noise pollution. Private nuisance has, if anything, become even more confused and confusing. Its chapter lies neglected in the standard works, little changed over the years, its modest message overwhelmed by the excitements to be found elsewhere in tort. Any sense of direction which may have existed in the old days is long gone. The action now encompasses not only smelly oil depots, noisy speedboats and the like but also dangerous natural hazards on the land and the only slightly less natural “user of premises for prostitution and the perambulations of the prostitutes and their customers.” Sometimes negligence is essential to liability, sometimes it is quite irrelevant.

Prosecutions for the crime of blasphemy are rare. But one which took place recently in London has elicited from the Home Secretary an utterance which is of interest and of importance.

That it takes three persons, a plaintiff, a defendant and a judge, to make a case and reach a judgment, was clear to the earliest writers on English law, and implicit in such a proposition was the understanding that a judgment was not properly attainable unless the three persons of the trinity were kept distinct. A fundamental idea of this nature is not, of course, the peculiar property of English law, and being axiomatic it has long been enshrined in the maxim that no one may be judge in his own cause. As might be expected, Coke turned the notion into a phrase. “It is,” he wrote, “a maxim in law aliquis non debet esse iudex in propria causa.”

THE public domain is all the rage. It is invoked to breach copyright’s encroaching enclosure of what one might grandiloquently call the cultural commons of the mind. The heralds of our “remix culture” deploy the public domain to smash that icon of the entertainment–industrial complex, the Romantic Author. But even before the Author became Romantic, he still served as a shill for concentrated industry, then the printing–bookselling complex. Authors’ moral claims of labourious entitlement merely masked the power grab of the printers. If we speak of a grab, we imply that copyright was seised from somewhere. So whence, in this account, was copyright wrested? From the public domain.

It is a long-established legal rule that the contents of a will, once it is admitted to probate, are available for inspection by any member of the public. This article is the first examination of this remarkable rule, its possible rationales, and its attendant disadvantages. Particular attention is paid to the problems of the ensuing loss of privacy. Legislative attempts to limit open access are considered together with non-legislative devices used for the same purpose: the secret trust; and applications for the sealing of a will (a device especially prevalent in the case of royal wills).