My late father was a solicitor. But when his name appeared in the local paper in connection with good works for the Rotary club, he was embarrassed if mention was made of his profession. Why? Because he feared this may seem as if he was touting for business.

About 30 years on from my dad’s discomfiture at even the hint of a lawyer advertising, I pitched up at the accident and emergency department at Royal Oldham Hospital to see a man standing outside, handing out flyers for one of those "blame equals claim" companies, urging the walking wounded to consider sueing someone even before they had been bandaged.

It would not strictly be fair to call these people "ambulance chasers". After all, you don’t need to chase an ambulance when you know where it’s going.

The legal profession has changed in many ways since my dad’s day. But one of the most significant changes has been the advent of the "no win, no fee" case. If you have tripped over a kerbstone, had a bad hairdo or a dodgy biryani, well why not sue someone? There’s an oily-looking man on the telly assuring you it won’t cost you a penny.

For the lawyer, it is like a punter backing an outsider: the odds are long, but if the horse comes home, it’s a big pay day.

Just how big will be made clear in a report by Lord Young, to be published in September, which will urge Prime Minister David Cameron to get a grip of our burgeoning compensation culture.

Some no win, no fee arrangements net lawyers twice the sum they win for their client in damages, says Lord Young, who recommends not just capping fees but banning advertising by personal injury lawyers.

In 2008, "trip and slip" claims cost the council taxpayers of Greater Manchester a staggering £7.4m. From this, you can only assume that walking the pavements of Salford or Stockport is more hazardous than a stroll through Helmand province.

There are, undoubtedly, many people who have suffered genuine injury and loss through the negligence of councils, hospitals, employers, neighbours or even the stranger in the next car, and that loss needs to be compensated. But there are also now many who see the law as a lottery for which they can get a ticket without even needing to pay £1.

The effect of all this blame and claim is to send a risk-averse chill through society, so that schools are too scared to run trips, and – as a letter to the Sunday Times claimed – a hotel restaurant in Ashton under Lyne refuses to serve soup warmer than 62F, citing health and safety.

This so-called "elf and safety" culture is not the fault of the Health and Safety Executive; I met this body’s doughty chair Judith Hackitt a few weeks ago, and she is as infuritated by the "elf and safety" myths as anyone.

No, it is the result of so many people in every walk of life fearing that if they put a foot wrong, someone will sue them.

The first headteacher to decree that youngsters should wear safety goggles while playing conkers did not do so because of some health and safety regulation, he did it because he feared a spurious writ from a no win, no fee lawyer.

Wednesday whinge

A very English debate is in progress about whether audiences at classical music concerts should or should not applaud between movements. "It breaks the spell," moans one regular at the Proms, miffed at the increasing tendency of audiences to flout the old convention for silence between movements.

I have always found it a little odd for a roomful of people to greet a natural break in a great piece of music with no more than stifled coughs and a shuffling of feet. I now discover that even Mozart himself liked to hear applause between movements.

The idea that we break the spell by clapping is nonsense. Audiences frequently applaud arias during opera, and even a spontaneous burst of applause in the middle of a play is not unknown, witness the response to Ian Bartholomew’s brilliant turn as Alfred Doolittle in the Royal Exchange’s recent production of Pygmalion.

So emotional that our boys still love the toys

The eminently sensible Times columnist Libby Purves this week rightly raved about the new Toy Story 3 movie, in which the toys face an uncertain future as their owner Andy is grown up and heading for college.

But she also managed to see the partnership between Woody the cowboy and Buzz Lightyear as a parable for the Cameron-Clegg coalition, and their foe, Lotso the bear, as "a grinning avatar of just how the Blair-Bush-Brown era went sour on us".

Phew, that’s heavy analysis. Me, I prefer the simple theory that grown-ups the world over are blubbing away in darkened cinemas to Toy Story 3 because the toys are now emblems for parents reaching that stage when their children no longer seem to have need of them.

That’s particularly poignant for those, like my wife and I, for whom the first Toy Story in 1995 was one of the earliest cinema-going experiences with our children.

So, 15 years on, off we went, the four of us – our sons now aged 19 and 16 – to see Toy Story 3.

I cannot imagine another movie we would all choose to watch and all enjoy so thoroughly, although I think I may have had something in my eye towards the end...

Tweet