Hit With The Ugly Stick

 

 

Monday

 

It was a cold, wet September day and Keith was starting senior school. He was anxious to the point of feeling physically sick, he was a wreck and hadn’t slept properly for a couple of days, as he wouldn’t know anyone there. All of his friends from juniors went to another senior school. He had been the unfortunate one as he lived out of the catchment area of he and his parents preferred school. He was dreading walking into that playground with no one there to talk to. His mum walked him to school, but had left him down the road. ‘You’ll be OK once you’ve got today out of the way.’ She said trying to reassure her trembling son.

 

In junior school Keith was shy and it took him a while to open up and make new friends. He was a bit of a comedian, which the teaching staff didn’t like and labelled him the class clown but the other members of his class really liked him for it.  

 

 Today he wore a baseball cap which he would keep low. So he could avoid eye contact and not stand out. Or so he thought.

 

While Keith was a healthy, intelligent boy, he had the misfortune to be extremely ugly. In fact he could barely look himself in the mirror as he was ashamed of the acne, sticking out fat ears, bulbous nose and the way his chin was firmly embedded in the top of his neck. His hair was permanently greasy, no matter which brand of shampoo and conditioner he used. His eyes were tiny and sort of oriental. He had too many teeth, no shoulders and a pigeon chest. In fact if you tapped his sternum, it would make a hollow banging sound like a cupboard door.

 

The kids in the playground were all standing in groups or playing football. Some were playing shove halfpenny, in decimal now of course, as this was eighties. This was not a well thought of school. The council had no money. Thatcher ‘the milk snatcher’ was in power.

 

Keith knew he had to befriend someone as soon as possible. He had to approach one of the other kids. He couldn't just stand there staring at the ground. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned expectantly…

 

A kid who was quite muscular looked at his baseball cap and flicked it off his head and put it on his own. He then grocked and spat at Keith's face. The phlegm hung from his nose like a slimy, greenish pendulum. He balked. The boys’ gang then gathered around and shouted, ‘Ha ha he looks like a spitting image puppet.’ From then on keith’s nickname was Spitting Image another name they would come up with towards the end of the day was Spit the Dog.

 

One boy came over to Keith who was now in tears, which he was unable to hide now his cap was gone. He said, ‘look, there was no need for that lar. That was well arlarse ’ The boy had on a duffle coat and hair that looked as though his mother had cut for him.’They’re always picking on people. They gave me a shit time when we were in junior school too.’ He offered his hand and they shook, ‘I’m Joey. They still have a go at me because I came into school one time with my sister’s coat on. Don’t take any notice, there’s plenty of other people they can pick on. Which school did you go to?’

 

‘Out Lane in Woolton.’

 

‘You must be posh. Keep that under your hat. Most of the kids here are from Garston. ‘‘Under the bridge.’’’

 

'Under the bridge?' Keith didn't know what this meant.

 

‘It’s part of Garston. All car thieves, gangs who have their own corners and patches, burgle and take drugs. In short, it’s rough as fuck and these people are not to be messed with. What team do you support?’

 

Being as how he figured that there were more Liverpool fans in the city than Evertonians, Keith said ‘I’m a red.’

 

‘Me too.’ Kevin was a true Evertonian, but wanted to impress his new acquaintance.

 

Their form teacher was Mr Jones. There was a nickname for him as well that had evolved over the years, student to student. His initials were BP Jones. Someone decided to skit him by calling him British Pork due to his initials, then that evolved into Sausage and now the definitive nickname was SOS which stood for Save Our Sausages. Imagination ran riot here obviously.

 

Keith filed into the classroom with everyone else. SOS took the register and started his Geography lesson. The pupils didn’t have an ounce of respect for the man and were disruptive to the extreme. One boy climbed out of the second story window and walked along the ledge. Another hid in a cupboard, which had a glass door, in the front of the teacher’s large desk. Mr Jones couldn’t see him as he pulled faces at the class.

 

Mr Jones, however much the class carried on, just went through the motions as if no one was there. He took a kit Kat from his pocket and wrote something on the blackboard. Before he could take a bite as he stepped away from the board one of the kids ran up to him and shouted,’Hi Yah!’ and Kung Fu’d it out of his hand with a flying kick.

 

Mr Jones locked himself in the store room at the back of the class. Keith was completely stressed out and despondent. He wasn’t the most avid student, but after this display he knew that he was going to learn nothing from this school if the other teachers were of the same temperament. Shit, and the bullying too.

 

Mr Jones didn’t emerge from his refuge. He had obviously gone for a cry, so the class headed off to assembly where they were lectured on the dangers of eating the magic mushrooms growing on the school playing field.

 

The students filed out of the assembly hall to their second lesson of the day, which was chemistry. The class was delivered by Mr Roberts. Joey sat next to Keith, who whispered in his ear,’ My sister told me this is one of the best teachers they’ve got.’

 

And he was good. He piqued the interest of all of the class and no one messed with him. Even the thugs at the back kept quiet. ‘ A kid spat at him and tried to hit him a few years back and he broke the lads collarbone,‘’Accidentally’’ of course.’

 

Mr Roberts talked to them about all the exciting things they would be doing in his class. Making tear gas, blowing the legs off chairs and other pyrotechnics, as well as the theory.

 

The bell rang for lunch and Keith's stomach knotted again. Joey said,’Do you want to play poker dice?’

 

‘OK, but you’ll have to teach me.’ They both hunkered down in the corner of the playground and Joey explained the rules, which were just the same as regular poker only with five six sided dice. No money was exchanged.

 

After dinner time, it was the double games lesson. Keith guessed the staff wanted the kids to have a bit of fun on their first day. Keith was mortified as he was going to have to get undressed in front of everyone. He was so skinny to the point of looking almost anorexic and gangly into the bargain. However, there were a few other under developed Mr Puniverse types.

 

Once on the school field there was the predictable system of putting the teams together. Two Captains were chosen. These being the muscliest looking kids with the best haircuts, which were Arnold Swarzanneger buzz cut, flat tops.

 

The captains took their positions and passed judgement on the team whittling them down to just Joey, Keith, Bean Head and an Indian lad called Rambo. The other boys never passed the ball to them, so they just ran about throwing mud at each other.

 

The kids filed into the changing room. They had all got to know a bit of what the

The others in the class were made off. Keith and Joey were, if not to be ignored, but made fun of. It was the end of the day and Keith could relax. For tonight anyway.

 

Tuesday

 

Keith took the bus to school today, which was a bad, but he had no choice. Other lads from his school would be on there. He took a seat on the bottom deck while the gang upstairs smoked and spat at passers-by out of the windows. Why can’t they keep their phlegm to themselves? Keith thought.

 

From the bus to the school gates one of them ‘Gresty’ kicked him repeatedly up the arse trying to get a rise out of him. He could do nothing. His two friends were behind and they were saying ‘How long do you think it’ll take him to give in and start running?’

 

After a while Gresty got bored and decided to give him a dead arm instead. ‘Two for flinchin’.’

 

‘Did you see Spitting Image last night?’ said one.

 

‘No. He was at home with his mum.’ Said another. They laughed.

 

Keith met Joey again in the playground and decided he would get to know him a little better. ‘What does your dad do Joey?’

 

‘He’s a pub landlord and with live above it. It’s the Dealer’s arms on St. Mary’s road in Garston. Suitable name for it, with what goes down in there.’

 

‘Under the bridge?’

 

‘No it’s in the nice part of Garston. By that I mean the second shitiest place in South Liverpool.’

 

There was registration and then the first class of the day went fine as it was mathematics. Keith was very good at maths in his last school.

 

Lunchtime came and Keith was approached by two students who were obviously the type who were the ones to watch on the footy field. They were very friendly now though, it appeared. They just chatted about this and that, Keith told a few jokes and they laughed. One pupil walked past them. That’s Burnsey . He’s the cock of our year.’ Meaning he was the hardest lad of all the forms in our year. ‘He’s also one of the best boxers of his age in Liverpool. He’s semi-professional.’

 

Keith decided to say something sarcastic, which was to be a very bad idea as it later turned out. He said ‘I can fuck him.’ The three of them laughed. Keith decided he had made a couple of friends further up the ladder and they seemed good lads.

 

Joey came up to Keith shortly afterwards and asked him if he could have some of his packed lunch. ‘Why didn’t you have anything in at home?’

 

‘No I usually have dinner money, but Gresty just taxed it.’

 

‘Yeah sure. My mum’s trying to feed me up, so I’ve got plenty.’

 

The bell rang and it was business as usual for the other kids. Skitting, laughing and farting their way through a French lesson.

 

Keith walked out to the playground to have his lunch in a corner. Joey wasn’t around as he’d had a can of fart spray from the joke shop squirted all over him and he’d had to go home for a change of clothes.

 

Burnsey marches up to Keith and got right up close to his face. ‘You said you could fuck me!’

 

Keith’s right ear suffered two jabs to set Burnsey up for the killer blow with a right hook. Keith’s head spun and his ear stung. He couldn't stop tears trickling down his face, however much he wanted to. Burnsey walked away and that was that. One of the lads from this morning obviously didn't know how sarcasm worked.

 

Joey came back from his trip home, wearing what Keith assumed was his sister’s coat, and asked him what the matter was. Joey then went to the Deputy Head so Keith wouldn’t be labelled a grass and get reprisals.  Burnsey was put in detention and he must have drawn his own conclusions as to who had told on him. Tongues wagged for the rest of the day.

 

At going home time Gresty, who had the repulsive talent of being able to throw up at will, vomited all over Joey’s sister’s jacket. With the food he had paid for with Joeys dinner money. Now he wouldn’t have a coat to wear at all when tomorrow came.

 

Joey said that if something wasn’t done soon we were in for it until the end of the year. But what could we do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wednesday

 

Things were not looking up for Keith and he didn’t want to confide in his mum or dad. It would probably have caused more worry and trouble. If only he hadn’t been bigger and stronger and not so weird looking, he would have stood a chance. It was not like this in junior school. These were big lads.

 

Keith arrived at school the next day and the bullies were all standing by the bike shed, smoking and talking shit. They turned and saw him.

 

‘There he is!’

 

‘Fuckin’ grass!’

 

‘Get the ugly little twat!’

 

They ran over to Keith. He didn't have a chance to run and he wouldn’t have been fast enough if he tried. He just stood there mouth agape.

 

All at once the lifter him up above their heads, like they were about to put him on a crucifix, and carried him over to the playing field.

 

‘There's only one thing to do with a grass.’ That’s when the blows started. Head, face, bollocks, the lot. One kick to the head and he fell unconscious.

 

He came too and everyone had disappeared. He was choking on something. They had stuffed his mouth with grass cuttings.

 

Joey appeared from the yard.’Jesus Keith, they could have killed you.’

 

Once Keith had stopped crying and spitting he said to Joey ‘We can’t tell. We have to think of a way around this. We can’t avoid them now.’

 

They went off to their classes and during lunch they went into the alley behind the shops, so they weren't in plain sight but had to go onto the adjoining golf course as some of the bigger lads were there smoking.

 

After dinner, that night, Keith went to see his best friend Chris. He needed to ‘hang out’ and take his mind off things He also wanted to ask him if he had any idea what he could do.

As soon as Keith arrived Chris opened a bottle of pop and put some cheese on toast under the grill, as was tradition.

 

‘How’re you doin’ mate,’

 

Keith went ashen and told him what had been happening. Chris tried to reassure Keith that in the long run it would toughen him up. ‘I think that’s impossible Chris, I’m the lowest of the low in their eyes. I can’t sleep and my mum and dad are starting to notice, the last thing I want them to do is go to the school.’

 

Chris took all this in and said ‘I’ll speak to some of the lads from Out Lane, see if one of them could step in.’

 

‘There’s a lot of them Chris, I think you’d need a small army with this gang of bastards. They’re dog rough and as hard as nails.’

 

They had a quick game of three and in with a half deflated football and then Keith went home.

 

At about eight o’clock Keith rang Joey to tell him about his meeting with Chris. ‘Joey one of my mates from my old school said he's going to speak to his mates about dealing with these arseholes. I’m not holding out any hope as blood is thicker than water, or words to that effect.’

 

Joe had an idea. ‘You know my dad runs a pub right.’

 

‘Yeah. But how does that help?’

 

‘Well I have a free run of the place, I can get hold of a lot of cigarettes and booze. My dad might notice eventually, but I’ll take the blame. I’ll just tell him I was bullied into getting them. We could use these to get someone to beat the shit out of them. ’

 

Keith rang Chris back, ‘Sounds like an excellent bargaining tool. The lads at school are always after booze and fags. I’ll ring round tonight.’

 

About an hour later Keith got a call back from Chris. Keith's dad was saying something in the background about being always on the phone. ‘Have you got a bird at your new school Keith?’ If only.

 

‘Good news buddy, I have six lads, two from our year and four from the second year, and there’s me as well of course. They want spirits though as well.’

 

Morning classes went off fairly uneventfully apart from someone singing ‘Fairy Tale of New York’ by the Pogues behind Keith's back. Farting, farting and more farting.

 

Joey sat next to Keith, but in the aisle. He had his school bag there on the floor. It was half open. If you walked past you could just about see that there were a lot of boxes of cigarettes. Joey looked at Keith, ‘The carrot. Have you arranged for the stick?

 

'You bet. Dinner time and it'll all go off. Chris has asked us to head to the entry behind the shops, no matter how fast they run after us, don’t look back, just keep your head down and run like fuck.’

 

As the lesson went on, with students passing in homework, you could see their eyes drawn to the gold packaging of Benson and Hedges and the silver of Lambert and Butler. Gresty and Burnsey were among them. They couldn’t do anything about it though because Keith and Joey sat right at the front.

 

The dinner bell went. Joey and Keith sprinted out of the classroom, jumping a flight the stairs of the way down. One of the bastards jumped too but landed awkwardly and fell over, blocking the path of Gresty and Steven Burns, but only temporarily. Breaking through the main gates they headed to the back of the shops.

 

Panic shot through the two boys like electricity. There was no one there. But Just as Gresty and the rest ran into the entry, three boys with their blazers inside out and balaclavas over their heads appeared at the other end. Gresty and the rest of the four man group stopped in their tracks.

 

One of the Gateacre pupils had a hold-all with him. He opened it and ceremonially took out a rope ladder. He pulled some rungs out of the roping and passed them out.

 

The shit heads turned tail and ran the other way, but they were stopped in their tracks by three more lads. They were outnumbered almost two to one. They had ladder rungs as well.

 

‘Remember lads, nothing above the neck.’

 

Chris, came out of one of the backyard doors and pulled Keith and Joey inside, shutting the gate behind them.

 

Keith could hear the ensuing violence and was glad he wasn’t there to see it happening. It was going to be ugly.

 

Then all that could be heard was sobbing and then silence. One of the masked boys opened the gate and said, ‘Safe as houses. They came out into the back alley and Gresty’s gang had cleared off.

 

They were now protected. Safe for the time being.

 

All Right, I presume you’ve got the goodies?’

 

‘Yeah.’ Said Joey.

 

'None of us smoke, but if we sell them as loosies I reckon we’ll make about two hundred snots on this.’

 

‘I have vodka as well.’

 

‘Party tomorrow night at Chris's then.’

 

'And sick bay for the walking wounded.' One of the chasing party had broken his ankle on the staircase

 

‘Lucky break for you two then’ Chris said to Keith and Joey.