Our court correspondent finally succumbs to the debilitating medical complaint that is ravaging the Technology and Construction Court: Wembley Fatigue.
Qualified health professionals, step aside. This week, I have discovered a new syndrome for our beleaguered NHS to concern itself with. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present: Wembley Fatigue.
I first became aware that I was suffering from Wembley Fatigue (WF) on Tuesday, when I prayed that a burst of Happy Birthday being sung somewhere beneath the window of TCC court seven would drown out talk of company accounts, Sheikhs and boardroom bust-ups. I was secretly hoping that Judge Jackson was the object of the serenade, and that Multiplex and CBUK were preparing to bury their differences beneath a giant Victoria sponge.
Alas, five minutes later the chanting subsided, but shortly afterwards another potential escape opportunity arose. One of the courtroom tapes ran out, and the matronly woman who attempted to replace it succeeded only in causing the recording machine to fill the room with ear-splitting shrieks.
Surely, this was a sensible time to abandon court - but no. Undeterred, Multiplex counsel Roger Stewart summoned his strength to issue forth a booming volley of questions. It was a Shakespearean torrent that would have struck fear into the hearts of all for miles around, were it not for the alien-esque squeals accompanying it from the recording equipment.
But it's not just me. Three weeks into the case, WF is beginning to show all round. Former CBUK chief executive Roddy Grant wins the prize for most insulting deflection of questioning: "I'm sorry Mr Stewart," a drowsy looking Grant said to the Multiplex counsel on Thursday. "I can't answer your question, because I was only half-listening to what you were saying."
Grant's managing director Brian Rogan is another key witness who has clearly had enough. He launched an impassioned plea to the gallery for an iPod on Thursday, as his ability to pretend he was interested in the court proceedings was rapidly waning.
Even the legal teams themselves seem a little frayed at the edges: as construction's biggest saga nears its conclusion, Oxbridge politeness has been thrown ruthlessly aside. The best example came on Tuesday, when CBUK counsel Hugh Tomlinson asked Roddy Grant to confirm whether "that feeble thing at the bottom of the page" was his signature.
But those suffering from WF shouldn't complain too much: it seems there are still some members of the public itching to get in on the construction court action. A couple of unlikely lads of sixth form age wandered in mid-hearing one afternoon this week, sat down in the gallery for 10 minutes then without explanation wandered out again. In my day, if you skipped school it was usually to sit in the park and smoke dope, rather than hang out with a crowd of fifty-somethings in an industry courtroom. The TCC, it seems, really is the new place to be.