A WOMAN refused to give me her name the other day.

I wasn't asking her for money or for a chip or even for a date, just her name.

And despite my asking incredibly politely, she refused.

"No, I'd rather not, thank you," she said primly before scurrying off towards the nearest exit.

Normally I'd react with an indifferent shrug -- it is a reply I have sadly encountered often - but this time I was offended.

Why? Because the woman in question was a magistrate. A public official appointed to administer justice on behalf of the community she serves.

And the thing about public officials - and the clue is in the name - is that they are supposed to be known to the public, which is where newspapers come in.

Sure, Joe Public is more than welcome to saunter into the public gallery of a court and watch a case but the last time I witnessed such interest the jury was dressed in wolverine furs and taking down notes with chalk on a slate.

Instead, we reporters do it, liberated by the law which says we can publish (with a few exceptions like the names of juveniles or sex offence victims) everything said in open court, however juicy, embarrassing, controversial or downright personal.

Most people, quite understandably, don't particularly want their names going in the paper, be they victim, witness or defendant.

After all, who wants to be known as the bloke who 'got nutted by a drunk in Bridge Street' or as the woman 'caught on her mobile and over the limit while driving her kid to school'?

I wouldn't, but it's tough luck I'm afraid. That's the price we pay for an open and accountable justice system.

But magistrates choose to be there. They are neither victims, witnesses nor defendants.

They have volunteered their time and energy, free of charge, barring expenses, for the greater public good. And with that comes accountability.

Esteemed judge Lord Justice Watkins, who I'd guess is a good few rungs higher up the legal ladder than your average magistrate, once said: "There is no such person known to law as the anonymous Justice of the Peace."

And the Queen's Bench Divisional Court ruled that a magistrates' bench and their clerk who had withheld names of magistrates hearing cases from press and the public were acting contrary to law'.

So there we have it. An open and shut case if ever I heard one. To spare her blushes I won't name the tight-lipped woman in question on this occasion. But next time a reporter politely approaches you or your clerk at the end of a case, please spare us a second or two. Chances are we're not asking for a chip or our busfare home, just your name.