After losing in the Inner House, May Donoghue and Walter Leechman did what any determined underdog would do:
They asked for permission to appeal to the House of Lords.
They had William Milligan on their side — sharp, eloquent, and armed with a petition so persuasive it could charm a hedgehog.
They expected the Inner House to say:
“Yes, of course, this is an important case.”
Instead, the judges said something closer to:
“No. Absolutely not. Go away.”
They declared:
• No point of public importance
• No unsettled Scots law
• No reasonable chance of success
• No need for the Lords to bother with this “hopeless” case
They even ordered May to pay Stevenson’s costs.
I would have raised an eyebrow, if snails had eyebrows.
They were shocked.
They were dismayed.
They felt shut out of justice.
But they weren’t done.
Not after coming this far.
Not when the law itself was at stake.
They instructed Milligan to take the fight directly to the House of Lords.
He prepared a new petition — refined, sharpened, and even more compelling.
He argued that:
• The case involved consumer rights
• Manufacturers owed duties to the people who used their products
• Negligence law in Scotland needed clarification
• The issue was of general public importance
He asked the Lords to hear the case.
The petition landed before:
• Lord Buckmaster
• Lord Atkin
• Lord Tomlin
• Lord Thankerton
• Lord Macmillan
Five minds.
Five perspectives.
Five chances for justice.
They examined the petition.
They reviewed the lower courts’ judgments.
They weighed the arguments.
And then…
To the delight of the entire Snail Team, the Lords granted leave to appeal.
The case was going to the House of Lords.
The final showdown.
The ultimate rematch.
The date was set: 12th December 1931.
A tiny snail.
A determined woman.
A bold solicitor.
A brilliant advocate.
And now — the highest court in the land.
History was about to turn.
→ Follow the case through its final battle
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