Fakery And Parlour Tricks 2: The Encore

As mentioned in a previous tale, myself and most of my male classmates, not being in any way shape or form, religiously inclined, would do absolutely anything to get out of religious education classes. This was for the most part due to the zealot of a trigonometry teacher who claimed to know all about such things, Mr. Mortimer, a.k.a. Morty.1

We had already fallen foul of the dastardly Mortimer a couple of years prior, when a rash of ill conceived afternoon absenteeism, combined with the poorest of piss poor efforts in the forging parental notes department. Conspired to land us in the usual deep, deep pile of manure with fearsome Deputy Rector Crampbell.2

Still in hindsight, four of the belt with a letter home to our parents, reporting to them our dreadful fakery, seemed like small beer in the punishment stakes, compared to forty minutes of Morty when in terrible cassock wearing, religious education teaching, preacher mode.3

You would have thought we would have learned our lesson, wouldn’t you?4

Had we?5

What do you think?6

It was a lovely sunny day, about 10 o’clock in the morning, in the middle of April 1985 when one of my classmates came up with, what appeared to be at the time, a great idea. Namely “We shouldn’t go to school this afternoon, we should have a barbecue, a few cans and a game of football at my house!” said Geoff Morris a.k.a. Biffo. 7

A cruel nickname if ever there was one, bestowed upon him by his pigeon chested, no neck of a big brother, the never knowingly subtle Pete. Named for Biffo the bear of children’s television and sticky out ear fame.8

Top marks to Biffo for coming up with a far more attractive alternative to actual school lessons for that afternoon. This plan was especially viable as our third year form teacher was the hapless Mr. Brae, who would only ever ask for an absenteeism note once. To which the stock reply was “I’ve left it at home on the kitchen table, I’ll bring it in tomorrow! I promise!”9

Tomorrow, it is needless to say, in respect of parental absence notes, never came.10

Biffo’s house was perfectly located for that afternoon’s timetable of activities, as his family house sat directly opposite the town’s public park. Football pitches aplenty then, for a post barbecue, drinking session kick about.11

Finally the clock wound round to lunchtime and rather than heading home for the customary tomato soup and a ham sandwich, it was off to the house of Biffo for a few beers and some cremated sausages. Biffo’s house was only about a mile from the school, so as is the way with all young chaps eager for a beer, we made it there in next to no time, the barbecue was lit and the first cans of lager were cracked open.12

Three cans in and the back garden was quite literally rocking. Due to Biffo opening all of the windows to the rear of the house and blasting out tune after tune, at full volume, via his big brothers stereo. 13

Most played record of the afternoon?14

Awful eighties gender benders Dead or Alive’s album “Youthquake” with the song “You spin me round” featuring far to prominently for a bunch of red-blooded heterosexual types. 15

I think in retrospect we can put this one down to experience, naive as we were back then to the prevalence of back door merchants. I think we can and should let Biffo off just this one time, with this transgression in to Gaylordship as he is now married with three children. The only excuse I could possibly offer in his defence is that he may have been confused by all the frilly-necked shirts and girly makeup the band wore.16

Anyway back to the bar.17

I had decided that while I would undoubtedly drink plenty of beer during the afternoon, I would forego any food, instead following drinking guru Swoopsters advice of and I quote “I’m not eating that crap! I didn’t drink all this booze to sober up!”18

Five cans in and I was completely hammered. Swopster was in no better a condition, as for Oss he could hardly stay upright and his language, which tended to be colourful at the best of times, had most definitely taken a turn in the four-lettered direction. 19

Yes if we were in any doubt, it soon became clear to all that the aforementioned kick about had been quite literally kicked in to touch. So our attention turned to the things all young chaps turn to when inebriated and at a loose end.20

Tall tales of indecent sexual acts with numerous women, grossly over exaggerated claims of prowess in the fisty cuffs department and of course talk of the obligatory practical jokes and general clowning. Nothing it seems is off limits to a bunch of drunk teenagers when the beer goggles are in the “On” position and by 3 o’clock that afternoon, trust me they were most definitely “On!”21

Bounce, who had been for all intents and purposes out cold on the sofa for the past hour suddenly came to and got his second wind. More fool him as Nimble persuaded him, all to easily it has to be said, that it would be a good idea to and again I quote “Shoot a couple of cans!”22

Before we go any further, for those of you reading this who have led a sheltered life, there now follows a step by step beginners guide in the art of can shooting.23

Step 1: Using a knife or other sharp instrument, pierce a hole in an unopened can of lager about ¾ of an inch up from the base.24

Step 2: Hold can at eye level and place mouth over the freshly pierced hole.25

Step 3: Pull ring pull on can and swallow for all you are worth.26

Step 4: Repeat steps 1 to 3.27

Step 5: Throw up, stagger about or pass out. The choice is yours.28

The large amount of alcohol now coursing through Bounces blood worked it’s usual magic and in a moment of sheer drunken madness he snatched up the telephone and dialled a number.29

What is about to unfold is not big or clever and nowadays would actually lead to someone being carted off to chokey. Rather than the six of the belt, letters home and the endless detention we received.30

The telephone was answered and in his best Northern Irish accent Bounce yelled down the line.31

“There’s a bomb in your school!”32

Oh spoons!33

The phone went dead and a sickening hush fell over the room. Half an hour or so later Biffo’s telephone rang, he answered it and to his surprise it was our old friend Deputy Rector Crampbell. 34

Guess what he was not a happy chappy as he went on to name everyone in the room.35

Turned out that standard practise on evacuating a school involves taking a register of everyone there present. 36

Guess who were not present?37

Arses!38