After Walliams lost last week, and the court’s judgment underlines how seriously it considered the risks to him to be, Mr Justice Nicklin asked whether there were plans for an appeal.
But Walliams had not been able to give his lawyers instructions on how to proceed.
“There is a degree of urgency – the court has moved exceptionally quickly to accommodate this trial and produce this judgment,” said Mr Justice Nicklin. “It is slightly concerning that there is not an ability to proceed today. I don’t understand really. If I was satisfied that there were compelling reasons why permission to appeal should be granted I could say so now. “
Sara Mansoori KC, Walliams’ counsel, said the case raised “novel issues of law based on unusual facts” but because of the vulnerable nature of her client – in hospital – she needed more time.
The judge gave Walliams until 16:30 GMT on Monday to come up with some proper grounds to challenge his decision. Those papers were never filed.
The failure to launch an appeal bid meant that ITN and the Guardian were free to publish.
While all this had been going on in court – there was a social media-sized elephant in the room. No end of people were posting ‘It’s David Walliams’ and wondering why we bona fide journalists were not saying the same.
When the courts in the UK order that someone should remain anonymous, that order applies to all forms of publishing and broadcasting. It matters not whether the publication is in a newspaper or online – it is still publication. That is why bona fide journalists who understand the law did not wade in.
But there is a massive practical issue: how far does the writ of English law run in cyber space?
One judge I recently addressed over a reporting restriction issue described social media as a “wild west”. That comment underlines the concern among legal professionals.
But the question is how to enforce injunctions in an age of rapid fire digital gossip?
If a newsroom were to breach an order, the nature of a large media organisation’s audience means that publication would be seen by judges to be rather grave and the editor would likely be up in court.
One random user of X publishing the suspected identity of an anonymised person by passing on gossip is obviously less impactful. If Chad from Utah reposts Dorothy from Liverpool’s gossip, the chances of being hauled before a judge are even more remote.
But what happens when thousands of people are all saying the same – and then their claims, perhaps based on a kernel of unreportable truth, are magnified by AI summaries and algorithms dripping content into phones?
At that point, mathematically speaking the impact is greater than one single newsroom breaching an injunction.
The public’s perception of the Walliams case was complicated because his name became known from the start – but the furious gossip over who “PPT” really was shows there is an existential threat to how courts try to control information to prevent harm. And it’s not clear whether they have any answer to it.