The growth of royal justice in England consisted in part in the development of writs to begin proceedings in royal, county, or seignorial court. In the late twelfth and thirteenth centuries the King's court seldom created entirely new substantive rules and entitlements. Rather, the growth of royal justice consisted in the reinstitutionalisation of customary norms and entitlements in the legal mechanism of royal government. The available writs and the rules governing their use—especially writs which began proceedings directly in the King's court—constituted the structure of royal justice in that they determined which norms and entitlements would be shaped in the King's court and would have the power and authority of royal government behind them. Bracton's ideal that there ought to be a writ for every case requiring a remedy motivated the proliferation of royal writs—both the creation of new writs and the division of existing writs into two or more variants—from the forty-five writs found in Glanvill (1187–9) to the 886 writs found in an early fourteenth-century register of writs. Each new writ brought a new social situation within the ken of royal government or changed the terms in which royal government recognised and enforced social norms. The division of a single writ into two or more variants meant a refinement of the legal structure. Changes in the rules governing the use of a writ also changed the interaction between royal government and social life. The reinstitutionalisation of customary norms and entitlements created additional subjects for argument. In addition to the customary norms as recognised in the King's court, persons could also argue about the writs and rules of the King's court itself. Substantive issues could thus be suppressed and transposed into procedural issues that deter-mined the boundaries to the royal judicial power to affirm and to effectuate customary norms. In 1176, the King asserted royal jurisdiction over the customary entitlement known as dower. This essay traces the development of the writs of dower from their creation to Chapter 49 of the Statute of Westminster I (1275), which changed the rule for using thepraecipe writ of dower.

It was not until 1898 that the rule that the House of Lords is absolutely bound by its own judgments was finally established in London, Street Tramways Co., Ltd. v. London County Council. The justification for this rule was stated by Lord Halsbury L.C. in these words: ‘What is that occasional interference with what is perhaps abstract justice as compared with the inconvenience—the disastrous inconvenience—of having each question subject to being reargued and the dealings of man-kind rendered doubtful by reason of different decisions, so that in truth and in fact there would be no real final Court of Appeal?’ It is strange that the Lord Chancellor did not refer to the fact that although the Judicial Committee of the Privy Council is, for constitutional reasons, not absolutely bound by its own judgments, nevertheless no ‘disastrous inconvenience’ has followed from this. In practice the Judicial Committee follows its own prior judgments unless they are clearly wrong, but it does so on the ground of reason rather than on that of absolute authority.

On 14 August 1988 the death occurred of Miss Pamela Banyard of Laxenheath. She had been the victim eighteen months previously of a savage and brutal attack for which her assailant was sent to prison for ten years on conviction of attempted murder and robbery. Why was he not convicted of murder? The answer in the words of the Crown Prosecutor: “We cannot prosecute for murder as she died more than a year and a day after the attack.”

Care and concern for the elderly have long been regarded by social anthropologists as hallmarks of a civilised community. Unfortunately the care of the elderly frequently presents problems of both a social and legal nature. Some of the difficulties which confront legal practitioners arise from factual situations similar to the following: an aged, widowed father, whose health is deteriorating, asks his adult child to move into his house and look after him for the rest of his days. In return, the father promises orally to leave the house by will to the child or to the child and his or her spouse. The type of problem which can then occur is seen when it is found on the father's death either that he has died intestate, and the estate of which the house forms part has to be divided equally between the child and his or her brothers and sisters, or that he has forgotten to alter his last will. Consequently a will executed perhaps many years earlier provides that the house should be left to some other relative—or even to the legendary cats' home. The child, having assiduously cared for the elderly father, may wish to claim the house and may seek the practitioner's advice.

The practice of “lifting the veil” from the modern company seems at times to be regarded as a sign that corporate personality is a ficition. This view is hardly logical: if the personality of the company were a ficition, there would be no veil to lift, the liability of the company must be the liability of the members, and limited liability must be an illusion. It is precisely because the legal personality of the company is real that special arrangements must be made for lifting the veil of this personality when it conceals the wrongdoing of a member or director. To use a more florid metaphor, when the powerful hoofs of the pantomime horse are used for improper kicking. Back Legs will be stripped of his protective covering, and made to account for his use of an engine of destruction more powerful than his own boots—on exactly the same principle as if he were made to account for his use of a natural horse's to cause damage. It makes no difference whether he sits on the horse's back or stands inside its skin; and it makes no difference to the man's liability for wrongful use of the horse whether the horse has a legal personality or not. (It may of course make a difference to what the victim does about it, since he may have good reasons for choosing to sue the horse rather than the man.)

THE facts of Barclays Bank Ltd. v. Quistclose Investments Ltd. are well-known. In July 1964 Rolls Razor Ltd. declared a dividend payment that they were unable to meet. In order to meet their obligation, the company arranged to borrow the amount of the dividend, £210,000, from Quistclose Investments. The money was duly transferred into a separate account of Rolls Razor, opened specially for the purpose, held at Barclays Bank. The dividend was payable on 24 July but had not been paid when, on 27 August, Rolls Razor entered voluntary liquidation. Barclays and Quistclose both claimed the money. Barclays asserted a right of set-off against the Rolls Razor overdraft, while Quistclose claimed that the money was held in trust for them and, since Barclays were aware of this, the bank were accordingly constructive trustees of the funds.

Claims of conscience are a substantial area of concern in relation to healthcare decisions but are often only considered in a limited context. Broadening our understanding of claims of conscience, however, might lead to claims that we are moving back towards a doctor-centred understanding of medical care. This article argues that we can allow claims of conscience without unduly penalising patients by focusing on the responsibilities that ought to attach to conscience claims. This article sets out three responsibilities – humility, universality and reciprocal respect – which ought to be part of any claim of conscience. The Charlie Gard case is then used as an example to explore the use of responsibilities. The article then moves to consider possible issues that arise from this view.