Wednesday 16th January

06:15 Bad news. The bloody rising siren hooter is right outside my window! Poor old Roger screeched and leapt up in fright. Unfortunately, he must have forgotten that he was sleeping in Vern’s locker, and he knocked himself out cold and ended up face down in Vern’s stokies.

After breakfast, Sparerib called the Crazy Eight (minus Vern) into his office. He glared at us with his wonky eye and welcomed us back to school before threatening us with barbaric punishment should we get up to anything as dodgy this year as last year. He also said we must accept the fact that Vern is a complete nutcase and that we must be prepared to give him some rope. (I would have thought rope is the worst thing you could give to a nutcase.)

Sparerib then licked his thin lips and winked at us (it could have been a wonky eye twitch) and said, ‘I’m not sure if you are all aware of this, but the so-called Crazy Eight seems to have achieved some sort of notoriety around the school.’ Rambo looked immensely chuffed and nodded like a proud father. Sparerib glared back at him and spoke in a menacing voice. ‘You so much as try another illegal caper, Mr Black, and you’ll feel my wrath, and believe me I’ve been playing a lot of squash lately.’ Sparerib lifted the short sleeve of his shirt and showed us his veiny bicep. Mad Dog then pulled up his sleeve and showed Sparerib his bicep. Sparerib glared at Mad Dog with his wonky eye until Mad Dog put his bicep away.

‘Twenty-four boys from other houses have requested a move into your dormitory because obviously… Henry… Gecko – no longer… er… due to… certain circumstances… we now have a vacancy there.’ Sparerib sniffed and looked sour. ‘Now you may think that notoriety is something to be proud of, but in my book that’s a direct insult to me and the proud discipline of this house. You’re here to get educated, not horse around looking for ghosts and terrorizing people.’ This time Sparerib glared at Fatty who stopped chewing his elastic band and looked mildly ill. ‘So I have decided that your new dormitory mate won’t be a joyriding thrill seeker from another house but a boy who will hopefully instil some good old fashioned normality to proceedings.’ We all leant forward in anticipation but nothing more was said about who the new boy in our dormitory is going to be.

‘Oh, and finally,’ said Sparerib, ‘you will under no circumstances attempt to corrupt, touch or bully any of the first years. They will be vulnerable enough and I won’t have you worsening the situation. I also understand that there is no love lost between you lot and Leonard Pike, but his brother Renton is a first year in our house and I won’t stand for any shit. You hear me?’

I’ve never heard Sparerib swear before – clearly the Crazy Eight has him worried! He continued to glare at us with his wonky eye before uttering in a cruel voice, ‘I’ll be watching…’

It was quite funny watching the new boys arriving and being led by their proud parents through our dormitory and into the dingy first year dorm. We were all very polite and Mad Dog made a point of bowing to every parent and calling them Mam and Sir. Boggo pretended to be writing the new boys’ names down but was actually making a list about which mothers he’d like to shag. Fatty kept a close eye out for new boys with a good supply of tuck, while Vern lay on his bed talking to himself and pulling out hair and was clearly disturbed by all the activity.

While all the new boys went off to meet The Glock and have lunch in the quad with their parents, Rambo convened our first Crazy Eight meeting of the year. He reckons that nobody can just join the Crazy Eight because they move into the dormitory. He said that whoever this new dude is, he’ll have to prove himself to be a legend, a fine sportsman, or completely insane. Apparently the new guy is arriving tonight!

20:00 Sparerib called the entire house to a meeting in the common room. The poor new boys looked terrified, apart from Renton Pike, who was sprawled out in a chair looking like a millionaire. It was good to see Rambo accidentally kick him twice in the shins on his way past.

Sparerib announced our head of house and new prefects.

HEAD OF HOUSE Greg Anderson PREFECTS Guy Emberton (Rumour has it his dad is now building a rugby pavilion on Trafalgar.) Linley Perkins (weedy looking guy whose nickname is Death Breath) Julian (who is coming back to do six months of post-matric before heading off in August to the Royal College of Music in London. He’s not back yet from a holiday in Thailand with Reg.) The good news is that Pike and Devries have to carry their own laundry this year because they aren’t prefects. The bad news is that Anderson has never forgiven me for insulting his crippled sister, despite the fact that he doesn’t even have a sister. Emberton still blames me for ruining his chances with Amanda – and Death Breath has always looked at me shiftily in the showers.

After the house meeting I took a stroll around the school to find my new classrooms so that I don’t look like a first year and get lost on the way to class tomorrow morning. As I walked out into the quad I heard a great booming voice shout out, ‘MILTON THE POET!’

The Guv strode up to me swinging his walking stick wildly and gave me a bear hug that lifted me clean off my feet. All I could manage in return was a very spudly squeak of ‘Sir.’ Once he’d plonked me down and given me a friendly crack on the head with his stick, he demanded to know what books I’d read in the holidays. I thought about lying but then confessed that I’d read absolutely nothing except for the Sunday papers. His eyes bulged and he let loose a torrent of swearing and general abuse in the middle of the main quad. A new boy carrying three cups of tea stopped and stared, his mouth wide open. The Guv told him to sod off, making the frightened first year spill half the tea on himself. The Guv looked very healthy and impressive in his tweeds and said that he had a new lease on life. He reckons he’s coaching the under 15A cricket side but he’s not my English teacher anymore. With that he shouted, ‘Exit, pursued by a bear!’ and marched off towards the chapel.

23:00 The door creaked open and there was a loud scuffling sound as an extremely tall figure dragged his trunk and bags towards the empty bed in Fatty’s cubicle. The new boy started unzipping his bags and packing things away into his locker. We were all awake, although for some strange reason we pretended to be sleeping. (Except for Vern, that is, who stood on his locker and shone his torch directly onto the new boy.) It felt a bit weird – like there was a trespasser in the dorm. I found myself resenting this tall shadow for taking Gecko’s bed and forcing himself into the Crazy Eight.

I dreamed that Pike slit my throat in the night. I tried manfully to stop the blood by putting on my school tie but then thankfully the rising siren screeched in my ear and pulled me out of my own murder.

Date: 2015-12-17; view: 773