Monday, 28 January 2013

Mr Jenkins


Well, I must say I never thought we’d meet like this Mr Jenkins.

Do you remember me? I doubt you do. As you sit there, dribbling soup all down your cardigan and farting you probably don’t recognise me any more. After all I’m 42 not 12 and in the past 30 years I’ve changed quite considerably. So have you in fact. From the huge, swaggering thug of a PE teacher you used to be you have wizened into a frail caricature of your once flabby self.

Sorry, maybe I should introduce myself. I’m Lance Manley. One of the boys at Priory Hall, Kenilworth School...comprehensive. No glimmer? Oh yes, you do remember me! I saw your eyes flash with recognition for just a second there. Can’t speak? Stroke was it? Poor you. Well, actually not poor you as you were a cunt. No really, you were. I hated your guts as did the rest of us. Remember your revenge on Mike Bontin for kicking you during a scrum in Rugby? You pushed him off the field by his neck. Poor Mikey had to wear a neck brace for 3 days. Funny thing was you were never questioned by the police or even by the Head for that incident as I recall.

Hang on. Oh yes, nurse. My old PE teacher Mr Jenkins. Just catching up here. Haven’t seen him for 30 years. Yes, he does look good for his age doesn’t he, poor Mr Jenkins. Loved him to bits nurse, as did the other boys. He was a top fella. Yes, I’ll keep an eye on him nurse, you toddle off.

Now where were we? Ah yes. Remember when I went out for lunch without permission that day? You caught me trying to sneak back in to the school just before afternoon bell and hit me so hard I had welts on my face for a couple of days. Again you weren’t questioned over this. Head gave me detention and when I tried to complain about you hitting me, he simply snapped that I had made you angry and deserved it.

What’s that? You trying to speak. You sound like a spazzy. Oh that’s not a very nice word is it. But you used to call us that word, along with “poofter”, “queer” and your favourite expression “flaming handbag.” I’m actually heterosexual by the way, married 10 years and have two lovely kids. But I guess you never questioned my sexuality really, you just used the word because it was hateful. Oh dear, Mr Jenkins I do believe you’re crying. Poor you! How does it feel to be helpless and unable to fight back? Not nice I’d imagine. How about if I dump your tea on your crotch? It looks hot, I mean there’s steam coming off it and everything. Ahhh, fooled you. I wouldn’t do that Mr Jenkins. You see unlike you, I’d go home and then think “Shit! I just deliberately poured hot liquid on a helpless old man’s groin! I am scum!” Whereas you Mr Jenkins, you never gave a shit about the violence you so gleefully dished out.

Remember Michael Girolamina, nice Italian kid. He was a bit fat and you, in your own hilarious way, thought it was fun to say “If your tits get any bigger you'll be on page 3!” Michael then did something I never saw or heard anyone else do Mr Jenkins. He hit you. For about 3 seconds we thought we’d found our hero, until you kicked his legs out from under him and then slammed his face in the changing room door. As I recall, even the Head had to act on this one but you successfully argued self defence. Tsk! Tsk! Mr Bodsworth. A fat cunt like you versus a 12 year old, fat Italian boy. Mike’s now a successful lawyer by the way, specialising in helping victims of domestic abuse. Thin as a jockey’s whip and married to a gorgeous woman. Life eh? Funny how it works out.

What’s that nurse? Oh yes, he got a bit emotional just then. I was just telling him how much me and the boys wished he could have come to the reunion a couple of years ago. No nurse, not a problem. I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m only here to see my grandfather so I can’t stay long. Ernie Evans over there. Yes, I just nipped off to the bathroom and saw Mr Jenkins. Such a joy to see him again nurse. Yes, you toddle off again. I’ll be off myself in a minute.

Well, time to wrap this up. I’m glad you’re in this state Mr Jenkins and I hope you live like this for a good few years more. If you look over there you’ll see my grandfather Ernie. Look at his family around his bed. We all love him and soon as he gets better we’re having a welcome home dinner for him. My kids love their granddad and he will live the rest of his days surrounded by a loving family. You on the other hand appear to be a lonely bastard. Can’t see anyone but me here. When I go, will others come? I think not. Oh dear you appear to have shit yourself. Don’t cry Mr Jenkins, you brought this on yourself.

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