The Temperance Society.

Just prior to myself and my colleagues leaving the secondary education system, we had, of course to go through the torment that were O grade examinations. We are not talking here about today’s piss poor excuses for final examinations, where everyone except the terminally stupid get some sort of a certificate.

No, no we had to do mathematics papers, that, wait for it, actually involved testing us on our knowledge of mathematics and not simply handing out qualifications to halfwits whom I doubt could find there own arse with both hands.

On checking the schedule, my first exam was to be in the schools main assembly hall, the following Wednesday, kicking off at 9 o’clock in the morning, on my weakest subject of biology. There was an upside however as this the first of three biology papers was multiple choice and unless you were a complete and utter fuckwit the answers could be deduced by a process of elimination.

I should then, or so you would have though, hit the books in the run up to the exam!

Did I?

Did I fuck!

Instead of studying I spent my time doing what all adolescent chaps do e.g. playing football, watching television or perving at girls, indeed anything that did not involve actual swotting. Examination preparation suffered a further setback when Fat Brenda announced that, due to her parents being away on holiday, she would that very night be “Having a party at her house!”

Jackpot!

Fat Brenda’s parents were publicans and their house was a large flat, which was located over the pub. The bar was closed for the week they were away and so this party, to draw on an analogy, would be like small boys locked overnight in a sweetshop.

All thoughts of the next day’s rigorous examinations were, for reasons most apparent, furthest from my mind. I acquired at lunchtime, through a third party, a half bottle of vodka and upon the school day ending, what seemed like half of the fourth year made its way to Fat Brenda’s house.

We all entered through a door at the rear of the building, climbed the stairs, walked through the flat and down another set of stairs that descended from the flat and in to the public bar. The bar room was a long narrow affair, with a low ceiling, half a dozen bar stools stood against the bar itself which ran the entire length of one side of the room, behind which stood rows and rows of gleaming optics.

There sitting on three bar stools, at the far end of the bar, eyes already glazed and empty beer bottles strewn all around, were Bounce, Oss and Knumbnutts.

“What time have you three been here since?” I asked, quite pissed off that they had not thought to include me in there afternoon drinking session.

“We didn’t bother going to our last class and we managed to talk Brenda into not going either! There’s loads of bottled beer and spirits but the pumps don’t work as her father has turned them off as the pub is shut.” Slurred Bounce the lightweight, clearly already the worst for ware.

Bounce proceeded to then develop a taste for the fearsomely strong O.V.D. Demerara rum, all well and good, but for the fact he kept repeating the phrase “Pirates drink this stuff you know! I think it’s fucking excellent!” At the top of his drunken voice to anyone regardless of whether they were listening or not.

He mercifully soon grew tired of his new catchphrase and with the beer goggles most definitely in the “On” position, he decided to launch an ill-conceived charm offensive upon anyone with a bumpy jumper. “I’ve always liked you!” He slurred as he leered over his latest in a long line of victims. I have to give it to Bounce, he is nothing if not relentless and only stopped his embarrassing utterances when at last the rum got the better of him and he fell asleep face down in a stupor at the foot of the stairs.

“I know how to wake the bastard up!” Proclaimed Oss, who it had to be said, was looking remarkably fresh considering he had just lost heavily in two consecutive rounds of the legendary drinking game, fuzzy duck.

I grabbed a leg, Oss an arm, Swoopster the other arm and Knumbnutts the remaining leg. Upstairs to Fat Brenda’s parents flat we carried our comatose chum. “Put him in the bath!” Laughed Oss’s, who appeared to have appointed himself team leader, as he put the plug in and proceeded to turn the cold-water tap on.

Bounce came to his senses remarkably quickly and leapt from the bathtub. Alas not fast enough as both he and his school uniform were soaking wet. Oss further gilded the lily by going back down to the bar and publicly announced to everyone that Bounce had lost all bladder control and I quote “Pissed his pants.”

Although Bounce was now at least conscious, he was unfortunately for him anything but lucid and was finding it almost impossible to stay vertical. The upshot of all this was that myself, Oss and Swoopster would have to try to do our best to get our chum home despite our own states of intoxication.

We had gotten Bounce as far as the front gate of his parent’s house without attracting the unwanted attention of plod, who being the humourless bastards they are take a dim view of such antics, when the front door of his house swung open. There standing arms folded and frowning from ear to ear, Bounce’s grim faced father.

Did we stay and at least attempt to help our associate out by offering some half-baked excuse as to why Bounce had arrived home after midnight unable to stand?

In a word no, we did what all teenage boys do when faced with a chums clearly angered parents, that being we ran home leaving Bounce high and dry and hid in our bedrooms.

My alarm clock the next morning sounded like a foghorn and I felt like my head had only just touched the pillow when it was time to get up again. I got dressed and arrived at school with a good five minutes to spare prior to the start of my exam.

There standing in the corner of the boy’s cloakroom, looking decidedly green around the gills, Bounce and he was sporting the daddy of all black eyes. Clearly having been served up a knuckle sandwich by his old man for his midweek rum drinking antics.

Needless to say a piss poor grade “C” was the ensuing result of my biological examinations.