Guv says, ‘Playing for the fifths is like clubbing baby seals in the springtime.’
I kept an eye on Norm (I don’t believe in spinners) Wade for the rest of the assembly. Behind his thick horn-rimmed glasses his beady little eyes revealed absolutely nothing.
Roger was behaving weirdly this morning. He kept spraying all over the place and howling mournfully whenever he felt like it. Fatty blamed Roger’s behaviour on Friday 13th and said it was a sign that supernatural forces were already at work.
Spent the afternoon with Fatty, Boggo and Sidewinder in the archives. Fatty was desperate for me to join them and even offered me unlimited hot drinks and toast. Poor Sidewinder was up and down the turret stairs all afternoon ferrying drinks and snacks. Boggo tasted his first cup of tea and made Sidewinder take it back down to the annexe because it wasn’t sweet enough. When he returned, Boggo complained the tea wasn’t milky enough. Sidewinder raced down to the annexe again and returned a few minutes later, carrying a mug and still looking desperate to impress. Boggo took a noisy slurp of tea once again, but then decided it was lukewarm and poured it out the window. The small first year then raced off eagerly to begin the tea-making again. Fatty suggested to Boggo that he lay off Sidewinder since he was going through a tough patch. Boggo reclined on the couch with his legs open and said it was important to keep up standards.
Meanwhile Fatty was rummaging through a drawer of papers labelled SUPERNATURAL REPORTS with a pencil behind his ear and a plate of peanut butter sandwiches at the ready. He kept calling me over to read out reports of unexplained ghost sightings. Each time he would conclude the point with, ‘So come on – you’re the boff – explain that then!’
Boggo showed us a picture from a 1981 Scope magazine of a semi-naked nun with pink stars over her nipples. He prodded the nun’s pink stars with his fingernail and said, ‘God, it’s good to be an Anglican!’
Pike spent the entire evening camped outside in the passage in case Fatty tried to make a break for the first year dorm. The swine perched himself in a deck chair and kept making orgasm and ghost noises, and threatening to molest our mothers. Fatty was beside himself that Pike was ruining all his supernatural plans for the evening and kept creeping to the door to peer through the crack to check if the coast was clear. By the time the menace left it was Saturday the 14th and nobody was willing to leave the safety of their beds.
Sunday 15th March
Boggo made us each put up cash for the Crazy Eight Masters Putt-Off. With a grand prize of twenty bucks (Boggo took a sizeable commission as an organiser’s fee) there was everything to play for. The rules were simple. There would be one hole only. It would begin in our dormitory, cross the landing at the top of the stairs, pass all the way through the second years’ dorm to finish at the far side of the first year dorm. The hole itself was a capsized teacup stationed beneath the old nightswimming window. Boggo made it compulsory for each player to have a caddy to carry our putter and make the whole thing look professional.
PLAYERS AND CADDIES
RAMBO
Plump Graham
FATTY
Sidewinder
BOGGO
Meg Ryan’s Son
GARLIC
Gastro
SIMON
Darryl (the last remaining)
VERN
Rowdy
SPUD
Runt
Unfortunately, all the first years had already been booked so I had to bribe Runt into being my caddie. We agreed that in the unlikely chance that I won the grand prize, we would split the winnings 50/50. It was a heavy price to pay but still better than being mocked and disqualified. In the end Rambo narrowly won the competition but only after Simon squandered a good start after becoming badly caught up in Thinny’s shoe cupboard. After taking six shots to extricate his ball from inside one of Thinny’s Grasshoppers, Simon blew a fuse and threw his putter at Darryl (the last remaining) and blamed his poor caddying for the
I kept an eye on Norm (I don’t believe in spinners) Wade for the rest of the assembly. Behind his thick horn-rimmed glasses his beady little eyes revealed absolutely nothing.
Roger was behaving weirdly this morning. He kept spraying all over the place and howling mournfully whenever he felt like it. Fatty blamed Roger’s behaviour on Friday 13th and said it was a sign that supernatural forces were already at work.
Spent the afternoon with Fatty, Boggo and Sidewinder in the archives. Fatty was desperate for me to join them and even offered me unlimited hot drinks and toast. Poor Sidewinder was up and down the turret stairs all afternoon ferrying drinks and snacks. Boggo tasted his first cup of tea and made Sidewinder take it back down to the annexe because it wasn’t sweet enough. When he returned, Boggo complained the tea wasn’t milky enough. Sidewinder raced down to the annexe again and returned a few minutes later, carrying a mug and still looking desperate to impress. Boggo took a noisy slurp of tea once again, but then decided it was lukewarm and poured it out the window. The small first year then raced off eagerly to begin the tea-making again. Fatty suggested to Boggo that he lay off Sidewinder since he was going through a tough patch. Boggo reclined on the couch with his legs open and said it was important to keep up standards.
Meanwhile Fatty was rummaging through a drawer of papers labelled SUPERNATURAL REPORTS with a pencil behind his ear and a plate of peanut butter sandwiches at the ready. He kept calling me over to read out reports of unexplained ghost sightings. Each time he would conclude the point with, ‘So come on – you’re the boff – explain that then!’
Boggo showed us a picture from a 1981 Scope magazine of a semi-naked nun with pink stars over her nipples. He prodded the nun’s pink stars with his fingernail and said, ‘God, it’s good to be an Anglican!’
Pike spent the entire evening camped outside in the passage in case Fatty tried to make a break for the first year dorm. The swine perched himself in a deck chair and kept making orgasm and ghost noises, and threatening to molest our mothers. Fatty was beside himself that Pike was ruining all his supernatural plans for the evening and kept creeping to the door to peer through the crack to check if the coast was clear. By the time the menace left it was Saturday the 14th and nobody was willing to leave the safety of their beds.
Sunday 15th March
Boggo made us each put up cash for the Crazy Eight Masters Putt-Off. With a grand prize of twenty bucks (Boggo took a sizeable commission as an organiser’s fee) there was everything to play for. The rules were simple. There would be one hole only. It would begin in our dormitory, cross the landing at the top of the stairs, pass all the way through the second years’ dorm to finish at the far side of the first year dorm. The hole itself was a capsized teacup stationed beneath the old nightswimming window. Boggo made it compulsory for each player to have a caddy to carry our putter and make the whole thing look professional.
PLAYERS AND CADDIES
RAMBO
Plump Graham
FATTY
Sidewinder
BOGGO
Meg Ryan’s Son
GARLIC
Gastro
SIMON
Darryl (the last remaining)
VERN
Rowdy
SPUD
Runt
Unfortunately, all the first years had already been booked so I had to bribe Runt into being my caddie. We agreed that in the unlikely chance that I won the grand prize, we would split the winnings 50/50. It was a heavy price to pay but still better than being mocked and disqualified. In the end Rambo narrowly won the competition but only after Simon squandered a good start after becoming badly caught up in Thinny’s shoe cupboard. After taking six shots to extricate his ball from inside one of Thinny’s Grasshoppers, Simon blew a fuse and threw his putter at Darryl (the last remaining) and blamed his poor caddying for the
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