I know a little bit about what Prince George is going through when he “cheekily" told his classmates to watch out because his father will be king one day
, (hey look, it's possible he did this whilst winking at it, tone is impossible to discern from a written report) because my dad was the Headmaster at my school. Of course I knew that it would be suicide to use that as a threat and that if I went around expecting preferential treatment I’d have been kicked all over the playground like a tough piñata that has fallen from the ceiling but is refusing to spill its sweet guts on to the floor. Then again, I didn’t have a load of bodyguards protecting me.
I did, however, once crack, when I was in a games lesson and one of the sixth form boys had been put in charge of us. I don’t know why, probably so the actually PE teacher could go out and have sex on a mattress in the woods with one of the sixth form girls. That was certainly the rumour at the time, which may sound unlikely but he did marry one of the sixth form girls once she’d left school (I think our school had three or four teachers who had married former pupils and at least one who’d fucked a current pupil, but this was Somerset in the 80s - equivalent to 1327 anywhere else and what’s the point of being a teacher if you can’t fuck and/or marry your students).
Anyway, I want to say this sixth former’s name was Johnny Alford (but maybe it wasn’t so sorry if I got that wrong) and he obviously aspired to be a PE teacher - who wouldn’t with all the minge benefits? - and he was quite a tough lad. He took a dislike to me (I’d like to say it was because my dad was headmaster, but it might have been because I was a dick - the kind of dick who would attempt to name and shame him on the internet in 40 years time and wasn’t even sure that he had the right name to shame) and for whatever reason (probably my dad, though no one else ever did anything like this) he started kicking me around the field, like I was the aforementioned piñata. I cracked and said if he didn’t stop I’d tell my dad on him. I might as well. He was already kicking me. I felt bad the minute I’d said it and I think he might have stopped kicking me just out of disappointment that I’d gone there. It was very wrong and stupid, but I was provoked.
I still feel the shame.
What’s confusing about George is that he didn’t seem to realise that he’s going to be King one day. Or maybe he thinks that would be too long to wait for revenge. The headmastership of our school/teacher wife pick up joint was not hereditary and I was unlikely to rise to the top. As if that’s a fair system.
Johnny Alford, it seems, is the name of the actor who was honey trapped into having some cocaine by a tabloid and was sacked from London’s Burning, so whilst it’s possible my bully/justified attacker was called that too, I might just have added to the actor’s troubles and apologise. It definitely wasn’t him and he was properly fitted up by the tabloids too. He’s a good guy who is welcome to kick me round a field for impugning him.
Always a great moment when the first proper copies of your new book turn up. Mine arrived today and they look spectacular. Can’t believe we’re only about three weeks from publication. I am really pleased with this one and I think you will enjoy it, but hopefully it will also encourage us all to check out bits and think about what being a man actually means (if anything). But mainly there are funny stories of having my balls felt and failing to impress my children when I thought I was about to die.
The blog was very helpful in putting together the story and if you’re a regular reader who appreciates these millions of free words and occasional jokes then it would be terrific if you could buy a copy or the audiobook. I like the idea of writing a book a year until I cark it and if all my podcast listeners bought my books then I’d be certain to get another commission. It will be very interesting to see how this one goes. I am yet to write a book that has made me any royalties. Could this be the one that changes all that? (Spoiler - no)