In ‘Under the Wig’, William Clegg QC drags the black‑robed, oak‑paneled drama of the courtroom blinking into daylight and what emerges is far stranger, tenser and more human than any slick TV series would dare show…
Clegg, one of Britain’s top murder trial barristers, has defended clients in some of the most infamous cases of recent decades: the wrongly accused Colin Stagg; the brutal murder of a young boy at a railway station; and the high‑profile Jill Dando case that gripped the tabloids. But what sets this memoir apart isn’t just the headline cases, it’s the way Clegg opens the door to the messier reality behind the wig.
He writes with the calm precision you’d expect from someone used to talking juries off the ledge of a guilty verdict, but also with a dry humour that keeps the pages turning. The book hops between jaw‑dropping courtroom scenes – where a witness can crack under pressure or an expert’s single phrase can swing a jury and candid snapshots of Clegg’s own path from nervous law student to silk‑gowned Queen’s Counsel. It’s part legal thriller, part confessional, and part darkly funny observation of a system that’s supposed to be logical but often runs on personality, luck, and the art of persuasion.
What makes it compelling isn’t just the crimes themselves (although there are plenty of shocking murders and near‑hopeless defences), it’s the inside view of how barristers really work: the rivalry and backroom gossip in the robing room; the moral wrestling that comes with defending someone who may be guilty; and the razor‑thin difference between triumph and disaster when the foreman stands up to deliver a verdict.
Clegg doesn’t hide his frustration at the creeping cuts to legal aid, either – a threat that risks turning proper defence into a privilege for the rich. Yet the book never feels like a sermon; it’s more like a practised advocate telling war stories over a late‑night whisky, mixing dry self‑deprecation with just enough gallows humour to remind you what’s really at stake.
Under the Wig is ultimately about what it means to fight for people when the rest of the world has already decided they’re guilty. It’s fast, sharp, sometimes darkly funny and makes you realise that behind every polished closing speech is a very real person gambling reputation, sleep, and sanity on the hope that twelve strangers might still be persuaded.
It turns out the truth under the wig is stranger, riskier and far more fascinating than you’d ever imagine!



















