I have a confession to make. Headmasters are human and can make mistakes too. I can almost hear your guffaw of disbelief because you all know deep down that all Headmasters are really gods and the pupils are all lesser mortals who have to quake and tremble in the presence of the great and good. I will explain.
The present frenzy surrounding the football that is now being played in Portugal brings to mind an incident that caused me great anxiety at the time. I have little interest in the sport but from time to time I felt it my duty to go and watch the schools football team when they were playing on our own grounds. Even if the game was scrappy and uninteresting I could take pleasure from watching 22 fine young men in their skimpy shorts and, from time to time, as they bent down one got a very pleasant view of their nice round buttocks which were filled with youthful promise.
Some years ago the parents had held a number of money raising events and they had a stand built. I was pleased to sit in the stand (does one stand in a sit?) on the cold dismal winter days because it was that much warmer, being sheltered in some part from the bleak weather. The match started in the early afternoon and from time to time boys came to support the teams and they were allowed in the stand as well. On this particular day I was huddled in my overcoat and having had a fine lunch fortified by some wine and port it wasnt too long before I was snoring away.
I was awakened by a group of boys who were shouting rather offensive comments at the referee. I distinctly heard one young lad shouting out " The referee needs some _f_u_c_k_ing glasses!" Apparently this sort of language is constantly being used at professional football matches and no doubt the boys were merely copying behaviour they had witnessed elsewhere and forgot where they were. I was livid. I prided myself that the boys in my school were well behaved and there was no way I was going to tolerate that sort of language in my presence. They probably thought I was still asleep.
I rose from my seat and marched over to the four lads and bellowed to the boys, "Where do you think you are? I do not allow such disgusting language and behaviour in my school. You will all be caned. Follow me."
"But, sir," spluttered one of the gang of four.
" I dont want any buts, young man. All four of you will receive four strokes of the cane and if I get any more buts I will make it six."
The boys had turned a rather delicate shade of green and looked completely shaken but decided wisely not to say any more. They followed me back to the main school and as this was a Saturday afternoon the school was completely empty. I took them into the school hall and arranged four chairs a few feet apart and told the lads to lower their trousers and pants and to bend over a chair.
"But, sir....."
"I told you no buts – you will now each get six strokes and if you say another word it will be eight strokes. Now get those trousers and pants down!"
The four boys had now turned a deathly white and I thought at least one of them was in danger of fainting outright. However, they decided that the stakes were too high to say any more and each lad slowly lowered their trousers and then their pants and took up their position over the chairs. I raised the tails of their shirts so that I had four lovely bare bottoms in front of me ready to receive their canings. I went to my study and retrieved my cane and punishment book and returned to the hall where the twitching bottoms awaited their fate.
"You are going to count your own strokes and as I am going to go from one lad to another at random you need to concentrate only on your punishment. If any lad tries to give the wrong count I will make him start from one again!"
I went to the first lad and tapped him on the bottom twice before the first stroke landed in earnest. "Ouch! One, sir" and then "Ouch ! two, sir." I then went to the next lad "OOOOh! One, sir. OOOOh! two, sir."
As I carried out my task with gusto all that could be heard was "Three, sir", "four, sir"
"five, sir" all being punctuated by ouches and OOOOhs and bottoms that tried to move out of the way but couldnt. Eventually all four boys had received their six strokes and I told them to remain where they were whilst I put their names in my punishment book. This was a big black book designed to instil fear into little boys as their names were slowly recorded within its pages.
I knew most of my boys by sight but not all and these were four I had never taught and so I asked the first boy his name and class.
"Mark Harris, sir, class 4a."
" What are you talking about, boy? In this school the forms are labelled alpha, beta and gamma – you mean four alpha, dont you?"
"No, sir. We are not pupils of this school, sir. We are from the visiting teams school."
OOOPS! Sir has suddenly realised he has caned four boys over whom he has no jurisdiction! Hmm. Some quick thinking is needed here.
"I see," I muttered, "Well I have saved your Headmaster from carrying out the job of caning you. He certainly would have done so when he learned of your atrocious behaviour." That was quick-witted, wouldnt you agree?
"No, sir," squeaked this little squirt to whom I was taking a great dislike as time went on. " He doesnt believe in corporal punishment and nor do my parents. They sent me there for that very reason."
OOOOPS!!!
I felt myself sinking further and further into the mire.....I was beginning to run out of ideas. I had visions of being prosecuted in court by rather angry parents.. All I could bring to mind was "Well let this be a lesson to you. If you do not mention this to anyone neither will I. You have been punished in the way I would have punished my own boys. You may dress yourselves and return to the match.
For days after this incident I was expecting angry letters from the boys headmaster or their parents or even a possible visit from the police. In actual fact I never heard any more about the incident until one of the boys came up to me several years later when he was now playing for his school and reminded me, with a grin, of the punishment he had received. They had decided not to tell their parents as they were ashamed of their behaviour but they did tell other boys at their school and to their amazement they had become little heroes. The other boys begged them to show off their striped bottoms and they went to the toilets where admirers were allowed to see the damage caused for a small fee!