The winners of the recent ESU-Essex Court Competition on unimpressed judges, appearing in the Royal Courts of Justice and why mooting showed them they wanted to be lawyers.

Karamvir Chadha

When I was about 14 years old, my parents told me I should become a lawyer. 'You love to argue about everything,' they said. 'Not everything…' I retorted.

By the time Hannah and I reached our second year of law school, we were both on the university's Mooting Society Committee. We'd become advocates of advocacy. By our third year, we decided we wanted to try a bigger pond than the University of Manchester's internal competition. The new committee asked whether we'd be interested in competing in the ESU-Essex Court Competition, and we jumped at the chance.

But we quickly realised the competition was not going to be a walk in the park. It all began with a rather rocky start in round one. Our client had thrown water over someone, for which he was being sued. There was a nineteenth century case which established that it is unlawful to throw water on someone. But, duty-bound to argue our client's case, we put together an argument.

As leading counsel for the appellant, I stood up and gave a twenty-minute speech on how throwing water 'over' someone is different from throwing water 'on' someone. The judge was not impressed. We lost that ground of the appeal. But a moot involves two judgments: one on the law and the other on each team's advocacy. It is the latter judgment that decides which team wins. Thus, despite having lost the first ground of the very first appeal of the competition, the judge decided that our team should go through to the second round.

Looking back on the notes I took from the judge's feedback, the main message from round one was, 'If the judge is clearly unimpressed by a point you're making, stop making it'. His advice – like that of the judges in the rounds that followed – proved invaluable.

And thankfully, I've never again had to make such a tenuous argument as distinguishing between throwing water 'on' or 'over' someone.

In round two we acted for the Crown, responding to an appeal from Mr Jones (a member of the aptly-named fictional pressure group, MAD). Mr Jones had been convicted of outraging public decency. It was our job to convince the Court that the conviction was a sound one. This time we were more successful as to the law.

The third round problem was based on the principles of equity. It was a subject that many of our classmates loathed, but that we had really enjoyed. We found ourselves poring over textbooks, teaching ourselves (and each other) about 'backwards tracing' and 'knowing receipt' of moneys transferred in breach of trust.

Round four took place only a few days before the first of our final university examinations. Despite looming exams in constitutional reform and intellectual property, we found ourselves justifying the exclusion of wrongfully obtained evidence.

The semi-final and final involved the same problem and took place on the same day. We went down to London expecting our toughest opposition yet. They did not disappoint.

Hannah Gates

Mark Twain said, 'What work I have done I have done because it has been play. If it had been work I shouldn't have done it'. Reading law demands a certain amount of work. Applying the law to practical situations, and analysing how the law impacts individuals is what makes 'studying' the law 'play'. Like most people, I had some trouble deciding what I wanted to study at university. Mooting convinced me that law was the right choice for me.

On the first day of law school, every society gave a presentation and asked students to sign up. At the mooting presentation, a boy from Birmingham who I had not yet properly met asked me if I had debated before. Based solely on our common history in public speaking, he asked to be my mooting partner. My mooting partner became my closest friend, and an inspiration throughout my degree. Mooting itself convinced me I wanted to be a lawyer; Karamvir provided the support through late night study sessions and the diversion necessary to stay sane throughout the process of law school.

In the first round of the competition, Karamvir and I realised how much we had to learn. Given that my working knowledge of a court room still came from American TV, a certain clumsiness was to be expected.

What we took away from that round was a completely new perspective on the legal profession. The look Karamvir and I shared when the judge announced we had won was the first moment I really appreciated how much I want to be an advocate.

From that round on, we worked – with more interest and dedication than we could muster for our exams. With each round, our desire to give our 'client' the best possible chance became more entrenched. Post-exam relaxation took a back-seat to preparation, without any resentment or desire to leave our books for the celebrations of our law school friends. The prospect of being awarded a coveted mini-pupillage at Essex Court Chambers added to our desire to succeed.

Winning the competition was due to more luck than anyone can truly deserve, and far too many hours spent poring over precedent. The opportunity to present legal submissions in the Royal Courts of Justice was thrilling. The individuals we met at Essex Court Chambers had life stories that inspired us to aim for similar experiences.

Signing up for the mooting society marked the beginning of my time at law school, and the discovery of my passion for the law. I could not have hoped for a better end to my LLB than being half of the winning team of the ESU – Essex Court Mooting Competition.