My entire Comprehensive existence was spent fending off Wayne Dawkins and his cohort of monkeys thanks to Mothers insistence that two magnifying glasses be attached to my face.
‘Mr Magoo stinks of poo time to shove him down the loo’
Face pushed into bowel by Wayne, flush executed by one of his chimps, hold breath as long as possible, toilet paper wrapped round head and sit crumpled in heap for the remainder of break time. And so it went on for six years. Wayne did show a glimmer of human kindness by removing my glasses before submerging me into the shit hole and I thanked him each time and by the end of it I actually managed to hold back the tears. The truth was I had run out of them. They had become so hardened over the years that they had solidified into a huge impenetrable concrete mass that sat steadfastly and resolutely behind my bulging eyeballs. By the time I eventually reached sixth form Wayne had already left School to pursue his vocation in the pharmaceutical Industry as predicted by his careers advisor. Trafficking Heroin and Cocaine also enabled Wayne and his baboon’s time to enjoy a much earned break at her Majesty’s pleasure. Gill from accounts was still my only visual aid to my impending blindness and Mother and Father were now unable or unwilling to spend the same time together in the same room. In fact they had lost the art of direct communication altogether.
‘Mary’s boy child’ – Boney M – Christmas number one for four weeks – 1978
‘Tell your father his tea’s on the table’
‘Tell your mother to stick her tea up her arse’
‘Tell your father to stick his tea up his own arse’
‘Tell your mother she’ll have to retrieve breakfast and last night’s dinner from up my arse before I can fit tea up it’
‘Tell your father to piss off’
‘Another brick in the wall’ – Pink Floyd – Christmas number one for five weeks – 1979.
With Wayne pursuing his new career path I was a little lost for things to do at break time.
‘Hey, Joe 90 over here’
Break time was nearly over and I was in the middle of finishing off my third packet of pickled onion monster munch.
‘It’s your old friend, from the Donkey Derby. It’s been a while I know. Sorry for the wait, but I had to be sure you were the one. Wayne did a good job I see and now Mummy and Daddy are fuelling the fire. It warms my heart to see a plan come together so beautifully. Time to leave Gill alone and move onto pastures new. Take those Hubble telescopes off and get some contact lenses.I hear they’re all the rage. You need to look the part if we’re to pull this off. Remember the innocents need your filth to survive. Only you can help them through this. Now go forth my son - show them the light’
‘There’s no one quite like Grandma’ – St Winifred’s school choir- Christmas number one for two weeks – 1980.
Sixth form was fanbloodytastic. I had new contact lenses, my hair was really trendy, all brushed over one eye like the Human League and a girl had actually spoken to me once. The only small downside was the uniform. It was as though Mother had been employed as Secondary Modern fashion consultant and I had progressed from a life of beige to an even more horrideous life of brown. Brown suit, brown shoes, brown socks, brown tie and this really was taking the piss, brown shirt. They called it brown but I knew what this bastard in disguise was really masquerading as – BEIGE. This tiny vogue irritant however counted for little as the girl who had spoken to me once was about to speak to me twice.
We called her ‘Le Frog’ because her mouth went from one side of her head to the other, no cheeks in between, just one long, never ending mouth, and when she smiled her face became a dentist’s paradise. Teeth jutted out from every angle, every shape, every size. I say we because since Wayne’s departure and my new makeover I had acquired friends who for the first time actually spoke to me rather than make mentally handicapped noises as they walked past me or stuck notes on my blazer with the words ‘Monger ‘written on them.
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