Everybody who gathered on the steps outside the Durban High Court on Wednesday had an opinion, and they were only too willing to share it with everybody else.

Such is the nature of high-profile court cases, and Schabir Shaik's corruption case is no exception. The assembled masses of amateur jurists were a sight to behold.

They ate fried chicken, shared greasy chips and swopped jokes on the steps outside, while inside the stiff, quiet courtroom, the venerable Judge Hilary Squires soldiered through 122 pages of his 165-page verdict.

His wisdom was broadcast to the throng of journalists and spectators via live television feed, courtesy of e.tv.

So, the journalists, like those watching at home or at the office, sat interpreting the judge's expressions, the intonations in his voice and Shaik's visibly pained reaction to Squires's comments. But, unlike the folk at home, this lot got to see Shaik and "the Brothers Grimm" in the flesh.

That witticism came from a journalist who was describing Shaik and his three politically connected brothers. Clearly, Wednesday was not a good day for them.

The verdict isn't complete, but the judge was obviously unimpressed with Shaik and his relationship with Deputy President Jacob Zuma.

"They say," said one hack, "that Billy Downer has ordered French champagne."

"Well, it's not likely to come from Thompson's," quipped his mate, much to the amusement of those within earshot.

Downer is the prosecutor in the Shaik trial. Much of his case against the flamboyant Durban businessman revolves around how he allegedly solicited a bribe on behalf of Zuma from the French arms company Thomson CSF International.

When the legal specialists on the steps weren't joking, eating and using the word "Shaik", they were commenting in great depth about the political future of South Africa.

"If Shaik's in trouble, then so is Zuma," was the gist of their wisdom.

When Shaik left the court for the lunch break, his once jaunty gait was less confident.

Gone was his cocky repartee with reporters, and his face was set in a grimace.

But not everybody thinks he's done for.

One of the hundred or so people on the steps of the court offered this, one of the many pearls of wisdom prompted by Wednesday's case: "I like this man Shaik," said Jerome Ndhlela, from Clermont.

"This man is helping the black people in South Africa, he's helping the African people."

Before that comment could be dissected, Shaik emerged from court at the end of the day's proceedings.

If it weren't for a couple of beefy bodyguards, his brothers and a dozen police officers, he would have been mobbed by journalists, all eagerly asking the obvious question he wasn't going to answer: "How do you feel, Mr Shaik?"

Was he thinking about a possible guilty verdict? Was he thinking about a life far away from lawyers, policemen and politicians?

Or was he thinking about how he ever got involved in this drama.

With acknowledgements to Greg Arde and The Mercury.