He’s ruthless, he revels in the nickname Jaws and he has the sharpest teeth in the business. Clare Conway meets Raymond Tooth, the most feared divorce lawyer in Britain. Raymond Tooth flashes an unsettling smile. His nickname is “Jaws”. He is a fearsome lawyer, Britain’s top divorce solicitor, the go-to man for anyone who wants to see their spouse humiliated, destroyed and ruined. In the 1970s, this cigar-smoking 75-year-old took on the mafia in Las Vegas and the South African government during the apartheid era. But he says crime was “boring as hell” and not as lucrative as divorce. Tooth’s selling point, which he personally revels in, is “Don’t get even — get Tooth!”

In his 35 years as a divorce lawyer, he has seen close up how the rich fight dirty in the marital battleground, he has been “attacked and bashed up” by one irate husband, and has uncovered fortunes squirrelled away by secretive ex-husbands.

Among his high-profile clients were Irina Malandina, the second wife of Roman Abramovich (£155m); Sadie Frost when she divorced Jude Law (and got £4m, the £2m house in Primrose Hill and £150,000 a year in maintenance); Pattie Boyd when she divorced Eric Clapton; and Eimear Montgomerie, former wife of Colin Montgomerie (Tooth got her a £15m settlement). Most recently he handled a 105-second quickie divorce for Jo Westwood, who was married to the disgraced celebrity publicist Max Clifford.

London has become the favoured arena for the world’s wealthiest divorcing couples. This is down to the generous settlements on offer. Anyone who can successfully argue that London is their main home can divorce in this country. What counts is getting in first and playing the system like “a game of chess”, according to Tooth.

Certainly, it seems women have the upper hand. In March, the Supreme Court ruled that Kathleen Wyatt could bring a £1.9m claim against her former husband, Dale Vince, whom she divorced 23 years earlier when they were both penniless hippies and before he became an eco-tycoon. The Supreme Court decided there is no time limit on making a claim for financial provision.

“The court will look at needs in terms of the standard of living they’ve enjoyed,” says Tooth. “If they’ve lived the lives of enormously rich people, then a driver may be suitable. We did one for a Saudi Arabian: a million [pounds] for each child a year,” he says, adding as an afterthought: “In many cases [the wives] have only flown in private jets, and the poor things have to go first class.”

And there are the arguments, tortuous squabbles “down to the spoons, even”, when dividing up a couple’s assets — all conducted against the backdrop of Tooth’s £500 hourly rate. Most divorces take no more than five days in court; Tooth’s longest case lasted three months. “On one occasion, my client — the wife — was in tears. After that, the husband was in tears. And then even I burst into tears, it was so frustrating!”

He sighs, shakes his head. “There are no winners in this.” You win? I venture. He smiles, all teeth, naturally. Most cases settle. When they don’t, it’s down to five things, says Tooth: “Husband too mean. Wife too greedy. Too much emotion. Bad legal advice. Nondisclosure of assets: fatal.” Sometimes, hidden assets can be “right in front of your face”, he says. “We had a chap who said he had no property, but we found a house he’d built in Surrey. I also found a Swiss account once, just from the back of an envelope.”

His eyes twinkle. He’s positively gleeful. “Once the judge finds out you’ve lied, you’re smashed!” Tooth represented Scot Young, the bankrupt tycoon who had been locked in a £300m divorce with his wife, Michelle, and who died last December after falling from the window of his Marylebone townhouse. “He went to prison because he didn’t comply with court orders for disclosure. He was ordered to answer this question, do that, and he didn’t do it.”

Sometimes, however, there is a happy ending, says Tooth. “I’ve known men marry their same wives again, which shows an enormous lack of imagination.” As he tells it, one husband and wife reconciled during the middle of a “very bitter” divorce. “We were just dividing up the contents of the house. They went and had a good bonk, and called the whole thing off.”