One of my earliest memories is my primary school headmaster battering my head hard with his knuckles becausemy handwriting wasn’t up to scratch.
I tried explaining to him that my eccentric handwriting showed that I was either going to be a doctor or some kind ofgenius but that just made him batter my head even harder.
If he’s still alive he would probably be an old age pensioner, ina wheelchair or something and about as helpless to defend himself as I was then. I think it would be great to turn up at his house and say, “Hi, remember me? No? Well, let me remind you”.
I would then make him a cup of tea served with a wee bit of carrot cake and we could reminisce over the good old days, when you could discipline kids properly, without fear of the police banging you up for ten years because you smacked your kid for putting ‘Swap Shop’ on the television, when you had clearly stated ‘Tiswas’ was the Saturday morning show of choice.
You didn’t think I was going to batter an old age pensioner’shead as revenge, did you? What kind of heartless beast do you take me for?
My next earliest school memory was pulling a girl’s pants down and then lifting up her skirt for all the playground to see her fanny.
I thought it was just a bit of harmless fun at the time, but the girl didn’t think so and neither did the headmaster. I’ve still got a bump on my head from the consequences of her tattle telling.
That put me off pulling girls pants down for years. I was seventeen before I tried that again. The girl in question didn’tseem to mind so much that day as I had a very different purpose in mind.
Instead of humiliating the girl, I wanted to bring her hours ofunbridled passion and pleasure. Unfortunately, as I alluded topreviously I only managed about two minutes, at which point she started battering my head with her knuckles.
That put me off pulling girls pants down for about a day. In fact, if you feel my head now, it’s like the Alps. I was a slow learner.
Cheers!
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