It is a fundamental principle of life in a free and fair society that justice must not only be done, but must be seen to be done. That every citizen is free to walk in to any court in the land without so much as giving over his or her name, nor being unduly troubled by the 100,000 protesters Nigel Farage promised, give or take the odd 99,998, and bear witness to the dispensing of the law within.

But after a second six-hour day in the Supreme Court, where government and parliament stand pistols drawn by way of a complaint from a Portuguese hairdresser, the fundamental question is this: can justice be seen to be done if nobody can understand it?

Morning and afternoon, the same hemisphere of sexagenarian gentlemen plus solitary woman, gamely assisted by a handful of barristers and an army of support staff, continued their quest to break the record for the world’s longest game of Mornington Crescent.

I began the day watching on the live feed, which would freeze and then unfreeze long enough for a quick stab of arbitrary dialogue to emerge, then freeze again.

“Does the De Keyser principle apply to a Henry VIII clause?” *freeze*

“Ex parte the Fire Brigades Union.” *stop*

“A modus vivendi for lobster fishing in Newfoundland.” Err, you what?

Defeated, I wandered over to the court room in Westminster, past the two remaining protesters, but real life wasn’t much different. The odd phrase poked its nose above the legalese parapet then retreated again. Statutory interpretation...the post 1972 legislation...straining a gnat then swallowing a camel (Matthew 23:24 apparently).

It was Lord Pannick QC making the arguments. Arguably, the nation’s most accomplished barrister, but he wears his genius lightly. The question at hand should be simple enough. Can the government trigger Article 50 without a Commons vote?

But when matters reach this high up the judicial food chain all simplicity has long since been reduced away. There are no witnesses, no evidence, no facts to speak of. No one has been shot or robbed or defrauded. There is only the law to be argued over. The pure, unadulterated law. If the law is your fix, this is Walter White’s best ever cook. But the only people who appear capable of getting high off it are all in the room.

Pannick is acting for the investment manager and Portuguese hairdresser that originally brought the case. But Pannick himself is not neutral on the matter. It was only a week after the referendum when he wrote in The Times that parliament must have its say.

On the judges’ part, it’s possible the grey tornado that swirls with such ceaseless vigour above the head of Lord Sumption, to name but one example, stands in a kind of protest at the tonsorial proclivities of the co-appellee. Sumption may know the law. He knows little of haircuts.