Daniel Connell
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Behind all the stories that there are, and will be, about Daniel Connell – dealings with violent gangsters, encounters with bent policemen, childhood friends in trouble, ex-girlfriends with hard-luck tales – there is one story which he will never resolve.
Who exactly is Daniel Connell? Is he a lawyer, educated, refined and morally upstanding – local boy done good, a man who has transcended his roots? Or is he the son of his father – a violent thug who is quicker with his fists than his brain, constantly in trouble due to a fundamental flaw of character? |
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He grew up in dirty suburban Essex, motherless, neglected by his minor-villain father but spotted by his teacher, who encouraged him to apply for a scholarship, make something of his life.
I know, though she never told me, that Rachael felt ambivalent about her decision to help me better myself; that she often wondered what she had helped create. I had had a first-class education, earned a distinguished degree, found a job at the pinnacle of the legal profession. But there is an expression I once heard, I cannot recall where, that you cannot put lipstick on a pig. I am an articulate savage, a gentleman thug. A sociological experiment gone dangerously awry.
After a successful job in the City, Daniel ran into trouble, protecting the honour of a harassed secretary in his own, inimitable style.
Ultimately, I suspect I’m not really cut out for the corporate world; at least that is what I’ve told myself in my subsequent darker moments as I realised word of mouth had made me all but unemployable in the higher echelons of the London legal profession. But there is some truth to it; I often feel that I am somebody who has had education and refinement poured into a body entirely unsuited to the task.
Now he is back in Essex, taking on shabby cases for chickenfeed, mixing with the lowlifes and criminals of his childhood. It is hard to escape the gravitational pull of our upbringing, hard to break free from the experiences that shaped us, made us who we are. Daniel Connell’s most telling struggle is with himself. Seems you can take the boy out of Essex. Just not for very long.
I know, though she never told me, that Rachael felt ambivalent about her decision to help me better myself; that she often wondered what she had helped create. I had had a first-class education, earned a distinguished degree, found a job at the pinnacle of the legal profession. But there is an expression I once heard, I cannot recall where, that you cannot put lipstick on a pig. I am an articulate savage, a gentleman thug. A sociological experiment gone dangerously awry.
After a successful job in the City, Daniel ran into trouble, protecting the honour of a harassed secretary in his own, inimitable style.
Ultimately, I suspect I’m not really cut out for the corporate world; at least that is what I’ve told myself in my subsequent darker moments as I realised word of mouth had made me all but unemployable in the higher echelons of the London legal profession. But there is some truth to it; I often feel that I am somebody who has had education and refinement poured into a body entirely unsuited to the task.
Now he is back in Essex, taking on shabby cases for chickenfeed, mixing with the lowlifes and criminals of his childhood. It is hard to escape the gravitational pull of our upbringing, hard to break free from the experiences that shaped us, made us who we are. Daniel Connell’s most telling struggle is with himself. Seems you can take the boy out of Essex. Just not for very long.
