THERE are no stuffed lions in these parts. Not even a convincing lion costume. Or even one in the shape of a rug. Which is a shame, given that today is the eve of a decision on a legal battle I have found myself in with no less a power than the multi-multi-million dollar CS Lewis Company – and their mighty lawyers.
A stuffed lion may sound an odd request, but our campaign slogan is: 'What would Aslan do?'. So the lion (if not a witch or a wardrobe) would have provided both comfort and a good photo op. A slightly moth-eaten beaver was available but, well, not qu
ite the same, is it?
The battle lines are drawn. Tomorrow's prize is the domain name 'Narnia.mobi'. Purchased by us when the new '.mobi' suffix went on sale to the general public in 2006; all trademark holders had a three-month opportunity to buy any desired domains, but the CS Lewis Company failed to do so, meaning it was still available – huzzah!
We were delighted, intending to give it to our wee boy, who is a big fan of the books, for an extremely cool e-mail address – '@Narnia'. Indeed, loads of brilliant ones were available, and chortling happily, we bought various humorous and interest-based names for family and friends; such as 'holyspirit.mobi' – my mother being an Elder of the Kirk – 'USPresident' for husband, 'TheQueen' for me, etc. But some presents can have unforeseen consequences...
First, a recent phone call out of the blue from the New York office of Baker & McKenzie – "International Law Firm of the Year" – demanding we hand over the domain name to the CS Lewis Company. Immediately. Or face legal action. See, if you're a Scot, that puts your back up right away; no cup of tea and a scone to discuss – just give us it because we're rich and powerful and scary and we say so. Nah.
After pointing out – several times – that we were perfectly entitled under trademark law to have the domain name as long as it wasn't being used for any financial gain, and that it was just for a young fan, we thought they'd retreated to eat more Turkish Delight. But a dark plan was afoot... Some weeks later, a Fed-Ex man delivered a 128-page legal complaint against us to the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO) in Geneva, couriered overnight to Scotland. Gulp.
Then giggling. The case was just so darn silly. It falsely – bizarrely – claimed we'd been using the Narnia domain to make money; indeed, that being why we'd bought it. Huh? See, they have to prove a "bad faith" purchase to grab the domain. It took us two minutes to get evidence from our registration company that we had never tried to, nor made, any money whatsoever; think of the time and money the New York lawyer could have saved if she'd just thought of that brilliant move.
And, in a phrase you don't hear often these days, the media was marvellous. There's something extremely reassuring about getting something into the public arena when you're being falsely accused by intimidatory forces. Though I was so nervous before doing the Today programme that my sustaining breakfast oatcake was like eating grit marinated in wallpaper paste. Fortunately, my beautiful son was game for having his picture taken, like Brad Pitt junior merged with a shy woodland creature.
Baker & McKenzie presents as its only "evidence" a holding page created for any unused domain name – without our knowledge; claiming we had some revenue-sharing arrangement. Sheer fantasy fiction (maybe that's why they represent the CS Lewis Company), as easily proved. We didn't even know such holding pages, not registered with any search engine, existed, but some found this the footprint of a dastardly plot.
However, to make even the most cynical heart warm and fuzzy as a baby Loris, we were overwhelmed by offers of free legal help – barristers, legal organisations, firms, charities, lawyers, QCs... In fact, these offers merged with the maelstrom of media calls until our heads spun – one day I took a bite at the remote control rather than the tuna sandwich in my other hand. Ultimately, just days to deadline, the magnificent Alistair Payne of Matheson, Ormsby, Prentice, who has presided over 80 WIPO panels, honed our amateur response.
So, tomorrow – decision time. Victory should be certain; we've done nothing wrong or illegal. Though a late "Supplemental Filing" by feverish Baker & McKenzie now wildly attempts to cast us as shady domain speculators, despite the fact we have never sold one. Seemingly based on our numerous domains registered, such as for our start-up internet poetry business, supported by Scottish Enterprise, my online poetry project, and a new children's charity.
Will justice win out against wealth and power? This case is about money; not literary legacy. Until 2003, when the Narnia films loomed, the CS Lewis Company had just three trademarks; since then, it's hoovered up 400 domains and trademarks globally. As well as selling the film rights – thought to be for $50m – there are lucrative merchandising deals, such as branded Narnia sunglasses, perfume and sports equipment, cited. Funny, it's a while since I read the books, but I don't recall any sunglasses in Narnia, or Mrs Beaver in trainers.
The first film alone grossed $745m. Yet CS Lewis gave away the books' profits to charity, with the rights sold by his stepsons in the 1970s. A young boy having a magical e-mail address to have fun with his friends seems more in keeping with the spirit of Narnia, established long before its huge commercialisation.
It's sad, Narnia being the focus of legal action. Still, we haven't turned to stone and, with all the support received during this fantastical tale, it proves the world has not yet frozen over.
