Monday, November 26, 2012
I have to admit that I was rather reluctant to post these here at first,
as my instructor Herman Bagstock could have probably sued me for libel
if he found these. However, he's very fortunately dead, so this can go
on the internet and I don't have to worry about a thing.
This is the third of a series of stories I wrote when I was a schoolboy
at Eton. They've been dubbed 'the Dirty Schoolboy Papers' because
they're extremely inappropriate because when you're around that age you
think that sort of thing is hilarious.
All names, including the surnames of my friends, have been changed because when I wrote this I didn't want to get in trouble.
Algernon
Heaton was one year older than we were. He was somewhat tall, with slightly
sleepy-looking eyes and dark brown hair, and he had a rather lazy look about
him (he even smiled slowly). He was one block ahead of us, so we probably would
not have met him had he not approached us one day in the halls of Eton.
“Are you
the two who spread the rumour about Bigsby, Nazus and the horse?” he asked us.
William
opened his mouth to proudly confess to the crime, but I realized that it could
be a ploy and answered more cautiously.
“It was an
accident,” I said. “We did not mean to spread any rumours – we were joking when
we made the suggestion! Someone overheard us and took it for the truth.” Since
Algernon had found us, there was no point in denying our identities as the
instigators of the gossip.
“Very well,”
he replied, and he offered us his hand to shake. “Algernon Heaton, and I
congratulate both of you on your creativity.”
William
eagerly accepted and shook his hand first. “Oh, thank you! My name is William
Carson, Mr. Heaton!” he exclaimed as if he were accepting a deal to work for
Punch. I introduced myself similarly, although with much less enthusiasm, as I
was still a bit nervous.
I needed
not be, of course, for Algernon went on to become one of our dearest friends.
He had that very information we longed for – an understanding of the tutors we
had. With the help of Algernon, we could be better prepared for the tutors whom
would be teaching us our lessons in the future.
We went
into our classes better armed than ever before. Our reinforced arsenal was a
wonder to behold, filled with stories and anecdotes and warnings. Algernon’s
talents were plentiful, as well, and they ranged from his fine imitation of Mr.
Nazus to his ability to perform sleight of hand. This latter ability came in
quite handy rather frequently, but it was never more useful to him than the
time he entered into a game of whist with the faculty.
To this
very day, I do not know the exact reason behind Algernon’s card game with our
tutors, but I do remember that it was a most amusing affair. He had been
speaking with several of them about an assignment, and they had begun to speak
of whist instead – and before he knew it, a game was set for that Saturday.
Word got around rather rapidly, as it always did at old Eton, and on that fabled
Saturday a group of students had gathered to watch Algernon enter into a game
of whist with Mr. Bigsby, Mr. Nazus and Mr. Farrier.
I do not
believe that the esteemed reader is aware of the identity of Mr. Farrier yet,
so I will proceed to enlighten him (or her, as it may be) on this matter. Mr.
Farrier taught history to third block students, and as Algernon was rather fond
of the past[1] he
was one of young Master Heaton’s favourite instructors. In fact, he had been
having a conversation with Mr. Farrier when Bigsby and Nazus had appeared and
the whist challenge had been issued. Mr. Farrier was a fine card player
himself, and he and Algernon secretly conspired to ensure the defeat of Bigsby
and Nazus, both of whom were widely viewed by the rest of the faculty as
conceited, snobbish and a nuisance and whom were widely viewed by us students
as “horse-***ers.” (I shan’t repeat the word many of us frequently used here,
for it is most obscene and should not be read by the delicate eyes of my dear
reader. Whenever it henceforth appears in the text, I will replace it with the
symbol I have just used.[2]) In short, Mr. Farrier was a valued ally to
Algernon – they worked out a plan together after class one day, which utilized
Algernon’s palming skills and a certain quality of Mr. Farrier’s teeth, and
they used the strategy that Saturday.
Mr. Farrier
was an older gentleman, and some of his teeth were a bit out of line with the
others. There was a massive gap in between his two front teeth, whilst others
were missing entirely, and they were most distracting because it was rather
easy to get food lodged in between them. On this particular occasion, however,
he managed to get a playing card stuck in there instead. He bent down over his
hand, sliding the card into the gap and lifting it up. Whilst he showed it off
to Bigsby and Nazus, Algernon quickly and most deftly made use of a deck hidden
up his sleeve to adjust his own hand accordingly. In this way the two of them
made short work of Bigsby and Nazus, and the honour of the history department
was thus satisfied, as was that of the third block student body.
Algernon
went on to become a history major and is now one of the country’s leading
amateur historians.[3] I
hear from him often – nearly every day, if not every day – and we see one
another on a perfectly regular basis.[4]
It is truly wonderful to have such fine acquaintances as these! You should be
jealous of me, dear reader. I hope you are positively beside yourself with envy
and have turned a ripe shade of green.
[1] Algernon
went on to become a history major at Oxford. Interestingly enough, he and
William both share qualities with one Alan Bennett, which makes sense
considering the fact that our creator was on a Beyond the Fringe kick when she
originally created the two of them.
[2] The
Victorians would use *** to cover up a fair amount of words or actions
(Elizabeth Peters uses it in the Amelia Peabody series to gloss over bits where
Amelia and Emerson have sex, for example). It was used a bit like some authors
would use G— for “God” or D— for “Damn.” The word I mean above is quite
obvious (and clearly a word that I, as a proper gentleman, would never
reproduce in any form, be it verbal or written).
[3] Algernon
actually did go on to major in history at Oxford, but he has yet to canonically
write a history book.
[4] This is
a joke, as Algernon and I ended up boarding together with William (as
Oppidans, they lived in the house of a tutor). Therefore, at the time I was
writing, we saw each other every day.
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