Porterhouse at St. Tom’s

Please come in, sorry you caught me making some notes for a story I’m writing. It’s about something that happened last evening. As you know I’m the head boy here at St. Tom’s school and that means one of my duties is to keep discipline among the boys here. Usually, that means punishing the younger … Continue reading Porterhouse at St. Tom’s

Speaking in support of the birch

Gentlemen, I speak this evening in support of the birch as a preferred method of chastisement in schools. As you will be aware there is a great deal of debate and correspondence in our great newspapers regarding the introduction of the supple cane to replace the age-old birch rod. I speak as the headmaster of … Continue reading Speaking in support of the birch

My caning history

I was interviewed the other week by two delightful sixth-form schoolboys. They were doing a history project about the town and since I had lived in Brocklehurst for all my 76 years a local vicar I know pointed them in my direction. I had never thought of myself as a “historical figure” but they seemed … Continue reading My caning history

Late for breakfast

Mr Weatherspoon sauntered into the kitchen and sighed. He could not,  would not, hide his irritation. “Where is he?” he demanded of his wife. “He’s not here.” “Well, I can see he’s not here,” Mr Weatherspoon snarled. “Is he still upstairs?” “What do you think?” his wife’s sarcasm was not lost on Mr Weatherspoon. “I’ve … Continue reading Late for breakfast

Economics failure

Come in! Which one are you? Callaghan is it? I have a list. Yes, you’re on it here. You skipped my Economics 101 class and you haven’t handed in your coursework. Yes? Well, you are about to learn a very painful lesson. That’s the trouble with so many of you freshers. You don’t think you’re … Continue reading Economics failure

John’s jam jar

John Hepplewhite was a modest man, he didn’t ask for much in life and he didn’t get it. He lived on a small pension from the Post Office and what he got from the state. He lived alone in two rented rooms and because he was trying to save money he would spend a lot … Continue reading John’s jam jar

Colonel Blincoe’s folly

The tower in Colonel Blincoe’s garden had originally been built as one those architectural follies by an eccentric gentlemen back in the midst of history. Or, about 1920, as local folklore had it. It was built of brick in the shape of a cone and consisted of two small rooms one on top of the … Continue reading Colonel Blincoe’s folly

Summer spent staring at the carpet

I cannot begin to remember how often I had a close-up view of the carpet that summer. My nose hovering inches above the dusty, cheap flooring. Trousers at my ankles, underwear at the knees and Uncle Simon flogging a birch rod into my naked buttocks. Yowl! I can still feel the sting as I recall … Continue reading Summer spent staring at the carpet

Uncle Martin lends a hand

I remember when Uncle Martin first told me that if I didn’t start doing as I was told, he would take down my jeans and underpants, take me across his knee and spank my bare bottom very hard indeed, I thought he was joking. I didn’t call him out on it and say, “You’re having … Continue reading Uncle Martin lends a hand

Smoking on the bus

I don’t often travel on the bus in the afternoon, but this day I had to leave work early for an urgent dental appointment. How is it that one small tooth can cause a grown man so much pain? The bus was crowded – the schools had just let out – and I was obliged … Continue reading Smoking on the bus