Tales from my Study (16)
There is always one in every school and possibly one in every year and I always have rather a great deal of sympathy for him. You will have gathered from my earlier tales that I am full of sympathy and have a heart of pure gold. The lads I am referring to are the Billy Bunters of this world. Overweight, big bellies, big bottoms, big everything, they are usually the first to be bullied and mocked by all the rest of the pack of wild wolves that boys can become when left to their own devices. They cannot run or play games and they become the laughing stock of one and all when they try to vault a horse or climb a rope in the school gymnasium. I was never skinny myself as a youngster and I empathise with their plight – not that I have not put the cane across many an oversized bottom when the need arose. My readers (both of them) would expect no less of me.
Well, Roland Poulton was one such lad and it did not take long before he earned the nickname of Roly-poly. He was a very fat boy and I suspect a very sensitive lad. I am afraid the others honed in to that fact and they were merciless in their baiting of him. It all came to a head when he would not come to school. He just stayed in bed and refused to get up. His mother was desperate and phoned me to ask for my help. As it happens, they did not live far from the school and I went round to the family home to see if I could encourage him to get up and come to school.
Using my most avuncular voice and you all know how avuncular I can be on occasions (although only half of you know what avuncular means! Get the dictionary out for goodness sake!) I told him that he simply had to go to school. It was the law of the land and he would grow up to be stupid and useless if he did not attend regularly. I promised him that I would protect him from any bullying and he had only to report anything of that nature and I would take the cane to the offenders backside. Rolands eyes lit up at the thought of that and he said he was willing to get dressed and come with me back to school.
I thought I would talk to the boys in his form about the problem and before I allowed Roly-poly – er I mean Roland - to rejoin his class I had a heart to heart talk to the boys and warned them that I would not tolerate any further bullying or tormenting of the lad in question. If he complained about them they could expect to be punished. I left it to their imagination to work out what that punishment might be – but I suspect that you, dear reader, with your usual sharp intelligence, will have guessed already!
Some three school days later young Roland rolled – er I mean - walked into my study with his handkerchief dabbing his tearful eyes. He said that one of the boys in his class kept on calling him names and he couldnt stand it any more. I said I would deal with the matter and promptly sent for the lad in question. It turned out to be master Anthony Blair and I was quite surprised because he was an intelligent lad with a flashing smile, which he constantly used to get himself out of trouble and had earned him the nickname of flasher Blair. It would not work this time. I had warned them what would happen and I addressed the young man before me in the following terms: "I understand that you have been tormenting young Roland Poulton by calling him names and I will not tolerate it. Take your blazer off and bend over my desk."
"B-but Sir," started young Tony flashing me one of his engaging smiles.
"I do not want any buts, young man. You heard me – get over my desk."
The poor lad knew it was no use arguing and it would only make matters worse. I had decided to give him two strokes of the cane. He bent over my desk and I was able to admire the firm curve of his nicely rounded buttocks. So I proceeded- Whack! Ouch and a wriggle came back. Whack! And a louder Ouch and another little wriggle. His bottom remained in position and was just too inviting so I gave him a third whack and was rewarded with a very loud "OW, Sir that hurt!"
"You may get up now, boy."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir....but...."
"No buts, boy – or you will get another three!"
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir" and he left looking very crestfallen and muttering under his breath that when he was prime minister he would abolish all caning in schools......
I thought nothing more about the matter until some three days later when in rolls my over sized pupil to inform me that he has been the victim of yet another bout of name calling from another boy in his class. This time it was a lad by the name of Straw. I cant quite recall his first name but it might have been John or Jack or something like that. I remember him by his nickname, which, oddly enough, was one the staff gave him. He was always known as the last straw. He was not over bright and was forever pestering me to allow him to go on demonstrations. First he wanted to walk with the CND people then he wanted to go on the anti-apartheid march. Of course I refused but one day he took himself off without permission to go on some anti-hunting demonstration. Whatever next? He would have gone on an anti-Mickey Mouse demo if there had been one. Naturally I gave him a good caning once he was back in school.
I summoned him to my study in due course and despite his many protestations he was ordered to bend over my desk and prepare himself for his punishment. I am not quite sure what I meant by that - other than getting his bottom in the right position for my entertainment. I landed three lovely strokes on his well rounded buttocks and clutching his bottom and grinning he said that he now knew how the fox must have felt after being hounded.
I pretended not to hear and went back to my important task of finishing the quick crossword in the Telegraph. I dont know why they call it the quick crossword – it takes me all day to finish!
I was hoping that the news of the punishment inflicted on those two individuals would quickly get round and put a stop to any further bullying or name calling of our rather rotund friend. My hopes were soon dashed when I had yet a third visit from poor old Roland. Once again he was dabbing his eyes when he told me that yet another boy in his class was tormenting him. This was one Charlie Kennedy who was often in trouble with me. I remember having to cane him for bringing a bottle of scotch on to the premises and imbibing rather a large amount. I can also recall the frustration of having to wait for him to sober up before I could cane him!
There was no way out. I would just have to mete out the same punishment for young Kennedy as I had for his two friends. I sent for the lad and I must say he took his time in coming. He was only putting off the inevitable. In he came and once I had informed him of Rolands accusation he protested at length. It did not do him any good and it was not long before I had him over my desk ready to receive his well earned punishment. He took his three strokes with much yelling and still protesting that it was not fair.
Just as he was leaving in came Blair and Straw dragging the unhappy Roland in with them. "Tell him," shouted Blair, who was the natural leader of the three. "Tell him the truth!"
By this time Roland was really sobbing and tears were running down his fat cheeks. "I made it up, Sir. There wasnt any name calling. I just wanted to get them into trouble. I was hoping you would cane them in front of me," he blurted out.
"You would not listen to us," said Blair, " we tried to tell you. You should get better intelligence sources before you start striking people. Caning is unjust and all violence by those in authority should be absolutely forbidden."
"All right. All right." I muttered. "You do go on a bit."
Of course the one thing against caning is that if you cane the wrong boy you cant un-cane him, as it were. I made the best of a bad job. I went on to say, "The caning you have taken is for all the things that you have done wrong in the past and got away with. You now have a clean slate."
The boys were not impressed and poor old Kennedy was still rubbing his bottom and muttering away under his breath. However they did all cheer up when they heard what I had to say next.
"Roland Poulton, You will get six strokes across your bare bottom and your victims will stay to watch. Lower your trousers and your pants."
Oh yes. Blair, Shaw and Kennedy were positively beaming now at the thought of seeing our fat friend get his just desserts. We are all bullies at heart. After fumbling with his buttons and zip Roland took down his trousers and slowly lowered his pants. I ordered him across my desk and his oversized buttocks were nice and white to start with but they soon gathered six lovely red stripes, accompanied by much yelling and tears. I let him have six very hard strokes. He deserved them. He never complained about any other boy again and he attended school regularly without fuss. I lost track of the other three and often wondered what happened to them.........