Tales from the Study 1: St. FIGS

St Francis Independent Grammar School St FIGS is a traditional school – traditional curriculum; traditional sports; traditional uniform and traditional discipline. Meet John Allison, eighteen years old and a new boy at school, as he discovers just what that means. The thwack of the cane against stretched buttocks echoes through the passageways. No naughty sixth-former … Continue reading Tales from the Study 1: St. FIGS

Yank at English school gets ‘six of the best’

I very much admired young Macey’s pluck. He took a full headmaster’s six-of-the-best. I was there, I witnessed it and I know he did not have to submit himself to the cane. He might be American, but he was a young gentleman. Macey was a new addition to our sixth-form. He was an exchange student … Continue reading Yank at English school gets ‘six of the best’

The Private Tutor

The Private Tutor What can fathers do when their sons fail their school exams because they spend too much time out with girlfriends, clubbing and playing in a rock band? Call for The Private Tutor. Using traditional educational approaches, he will soon lick them into shape. The whippy rattan cane, the taws, the paddle and … Continue reading The Private Tutor

Rock ’n’ Roll Truants

The headmaster fumed. Sixth-formers truanting. What kind of example was that to set the junior boys? Dr Collett would give McCann and Wheeler what-for when they reported to his study at the end of the school day. And, there was more bad news. The two eighteen-year-old prefects had skipped school to stand in-line at the … Continue reading Rock ’n’ Roll Truants

Matty’s achingly beatable bottom

The boy across the street has the most achingly beatable bottom. I wonder if he realises. How would he? He doesn’t get to see it does he? You don’t get a proper view in the mirror do you, not even in a full length one. Maybe you’d know if you saw yourself in a photo, … Continue reading Matty’s achingly beatable bottom

Stand there. Trousers down, lad

“Stand there. Yes, just there. Trousers down, lad. Right down. All the way. To the ankles.” I did as I was told. We did in those days. Eighteen years old and in the headmaster’s study. This wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. The exams were the following month and then I … Continue reading Stand there. Trousers down, lad

Duncan and Uncle Henry

Duncan wheeled his bicycle up the pathway of No. 17 The Avenue. He let himself in and parked the bike in the hallway. “Duncan!” It was his Uncle Henry and he sounded angry. Duncan had expected this. He was twenty-two years old and in his final year at university. Things were not going well. His … Continue reading Duncan and Uncle Henry

Winker Wilson’s visit

Mr Walter “Winker” Wilson exited the London Underground station and blinked in the early evening sunlight. It was September and the weather could not decide if it was yet autumn. A gusty breeze welcomed him as he joined the crowds on the High Street. It was not cold enough for an overcoat, but he had … Continue reading Winker Wilson’s visit

The headmaster’s guests

The headmaster and his two guests sat drinking tea in his study. The meeting looked to be a success. They had toured the school and they both seemed very impressed. Perhaps a deal was imminent. There was a tap on the door. Blast, the headmaster silently cursed. He had forgotten all about Thompson. “Excuse me, … Continue reading The headmaster’s guests

What strange times they were

“Take down your trousers,” he rasped. “Underpants too.” I shuffled uncomfortably. The room was cool, even though outside it was a fine spring afternoon. “Bend over my knee,” the vicar scrunched a large leather-soled bedroom slipper in his right fist. He wriggled his buttocks on the worn wooden armless chair and parted his legs a … Continue reading What strange times they were