There were many other offices to visit with many other opportunities. I don’t know what it was about the Cotswolds at that time, as I have already mentioned, there were more single hungry women than anywhere I had ever experienced. To make matters worse, a newly arrived instructor had been appointed and placed in charge of control officer’s courses, which were mainly women. He was a good-looking lad and liked the women. At every new course intake, he would inform me that he had picked out a couple of likely candidates for us to show around the area of course. Perhaps they thought that we could help them with their assessments. With female students on control officer’s courses, at the beginning of the first week they would be overwhelmed by the six hundred pairs of eyes using x-ray vision to undress them. By the end of the first week, a few younger members would have ‘cracked’, while the remainder of the course would remain restrained. By the second week, a few more had cracked, even normally happily married women would succumb to the temptation, spurred on by others who had already tasted the forbidden fruits. I was having an innocent discussion with a group of them during a tea break one day and I was telling them that we had great crested newts in one of the ponds on the College. One of them said, “Oh we are not interested in them – we are only after the one-eyed spitting trouser snake.” By the third and last week (last opportunities) they became positively predatory, even the ugly ones. At one end of one course celebration at the College, one particular lady obviously got caught up in the atmosphere and fuelled by drink, began to strip off. I intervened, covered her up and escorted her out of the bar. She burst into tears. This had obviously been entirely out of character for her and she was devastated. Quite a few of the students have gone home and found themselves pregnant, even after trying hard with their partners back home. I guess it must have been something in the water.
Every time you went out for a drink, you were likely to get accosted. What a problem to have. I really had a lifestyle to rival any pop star. My nicknames, I found out, included Sir Shagalot, Superdick and the Freelance Gynaecologist. Even when you travelled about thirty miles away, to avoid bumping into students, locals would come up to you and ask, “From the College are we?” On visits to Coventry and Birmingham, women would walk up to you and say, “You will do,” and accost you. I was later to find out that their husbands were working the nightshift at the car factories and they were out looking for a good time.
Meanwhile, along came another eating challenge. Two Welsh rugby players who were on a course had developed a reputation for drinking and eating. The rules were simple: the loser pays for the grub and a certain portion (if you forgive the pun) went to charity. This particular challenge began in the mess. We each had four bowls of soup followed by four mixed grills (consisting of sausage, beef burger, egg, beans and chips – a mini-mixed grill for me). This was followed by four apple crumbles with custard. I could see that our Welsh contestants were ‘blowing’ a little and then I suggested that we move to the bar. After four pints of beer, we moved to the nearest pub where I ordered four fried chicken and chips in baskets each. Our challengers could only manage to attempt the first chicken portion, so I was forced to eat the rest. They had to settle the bill. They were really struggling by now to drink anything, so I kept going and we moved to another local hotel. Our friends took time out and went outside to compose themselves. Meanwhile, the hotel owner sent me a tray of sandwiches which I duly polished off with my pints. After about half an hour, the duo returned and conceded defeat. After a while, they began drinking again. Then someone had the bright idea to go and get me a Chinese takeaway, “I guess you’re still hungry,” one of them said. So, I had to oblige. I went on to bring my total number of pints to nineteen. Even I was getting full now. Next morning, I told the instructional staff not to send me any more challenges unless they could eat ten pounds of potatoes in less than thirty seconds. This was because the regular challenges that I was receiving were eating (if you will forgive another pun) into my extremely valuable recreational time and I had women queuing up for my attention. Besides, I was destined to have a coronary, and all for people’s amusement.
One morning when I was circulating around various College offices getting acquainted with anyone I had not yet met and having a coffee and biscuit, I met this other instructor who had been there for a while. He knew all of the ropes and was giving me a good induction, when I noticed a very impressive and colourful chart on the wall next to his desk. I enquired if the chart was some visual means of identifying his teaching contact periods. “No, it’s much more important than that,” came the reply. He went on to show me a legend on the side which had names with allocated colours next to them. He explained that he did not have time to waste and that these names represented each of his ‘floozies’ and the colours were their ‘rag times’, by which he meant that they were indisposed, so he would avoid taking them out and spending money on them should there be any chance of his disappointment. He would also avoid wasting time when some of his other floozies could benefit, as he put it. Recalling the term ‘rag time’ reminded me of a funny story from my youth concerning students. This group of students who lived near to a bus stop were in the habit of leaving their curtains open with all of the apartment lights on and people standing at the bus stop were treated to various forms of entertainment. During the Christmas holidays, they posted a huge notice on their window with the words “A Merry Christmas to all our Viewers”.
I tried to keep myself busy in the evenings, studying, preparation, attending night schools, helping students who were struggling, taking part in all sporting events and end of course booze ups and dine ins. There were many traps to fall into, mostly connected with alcoholism and women. Many careers and marriages had been wrecked through falling into the aforementioned traps. The bar would stay open as long as we were standing. Often, we would let the steward off at 4am taking with us a selection of bottled spirits back to our rooms. We had to cover on many occasions for drunken staff. I also visited the Commandant’s office to plead for one of my staff who was being sent home. I incorrectly thought that this was due to him having an affair with another member of College staff. But a little detail that he did not share with me was the fact that a mother and daughter, complete with new sibling, had visited the Commandants office, prior to my involvement. There was I ranting on about the quality of his work when the Commandant gently broke the real reason to me. This was one of several examples which served as a warning to me. There was plenty of opportunity outside of the College without ‘shitting in your own nest’. However, there was one really beautiful, very posh and aloof lady whose mouth would not melt butter and who paid me lots of compliments and attention. I told her that I had visited a very posh hotel nearby and this seemed to impress her very much. When I asked her if she had ever been, she replied that she would not dare visit such a place as she was single and shy. A gentleman just has to offer in such circumstances. So off we went one night and she really was shy and nervous. She was really impressed. I dropped her off at her home thinking that I would return to the College for late evening beverages, when she shocked me and said, “I suppose that you will wish to make love to me now.” A gentleman has to do what he has to do to make a lady’s evening complete. She was an incredible lover. Slim but shapely and very taut. She was great fun between the sheets and she used to let me know what position she preferred between her two favourites by whispering either “cod” or “haddock.” She became regular number two.
I tried to make sure that I got an early, limited alcohol evening every Thursday because I had my long drive home on a Friday usually followed by a fight or a riotous night out with my friend the Magician. Unfortunately, one particular Friday morning there was a serious accident with a couple of students carrying out a very realistic exercise. I got the job of investigating the incident. The Commandant wanted a full report by the following Monday morning. I had no choice other than to stay for the weekend in order to do this report. I worked solidly all Friday afternoon an
d night and then all day Saturday, including Saturday evening. I completed the task on Sunday morning, far too late to contemplate a return home visit. I decided to visit a local pub for lunch. The farmers and Hooray Henry bunch were in and it was quite entertaining. I have never seen anyone as drunk as this particular farmer who really was legless. He insisted that it was time for him to go home and he literally crawled to the door and tried to climb into his brand-new Jaguar. “Just put my feet on the pedals and I’ll be OK,” he slurred. Despite the best efforts of the locals, he insisted on driving home himself. So off he went…unbelievable. During this event, I was approached by the landlady, who was being very carefully watched by her husband. She made enquiries about a member of College staff with whom she had enjoyed an acquaintance but who had failed to keep in touch and she asked me to ask him to give her a call. I was then approached by an extremely attractive, tall, shapely young lady who was wearing a ragged denim suit, but was wearing no make-up. She was, nevertheless, stunning. She began laughing and said that she knew what was going on. This was the introduction to a long conversation. After many pints and no lunch, I decided to leave. She followed me out to my car and asked me if I fancied another drink at her place. Having no better plans, I agreed. “Follow me,” she said, as she stuffed an extremely large Afghan hound into the boot of a Mini.
That reminds me of another joke. A man once telephoned an escort agency requesting a woman. He explained that he had precise requirements. She needed to be seven-foot-tall and weighing only about six stones. He was informed that they had no lady who fitted those requirements but that they would endeavour to comply with his request. After about two weeks, he received a call from the agency stating that they had sourced a lady who was six feet eleven inches tall and who weighed in at six and a half stone. He thought that this would be close enough and requested that she call around to see him. When she arrived, he was keen to get down to business, so he asked her to take off all of her clothes and bend down on the floor on hands and knees. He then went out of the room and quickly returned dragging this great gangly Afghan hound. Then he began shouting and pointing at the woman exclaiming: “There that’s what will happen to you if you don’t eat your Kennomeat.”
So, I follow this Mini at breakneck speed to this girl’s house, not expecting too much. Then, to my astonishment, we drove down this great gravel drive and into a stately home. There parked on the drive were three Rolls Royce’s, a Saab, a Ford Estate and a further two Minis. How many people lived here, I thought. It turned out to be just her. We went upstairs into this great reception room and she pointed to the bathroom should I need it. I could not resist a look. Wow, in there was a raised bath, larger than some swimming pools that I have seen, with a great gold swan’s head for a tap. It had a sheepskin headrest along one side and a long series of shelves containing a video library. I was offered a drink and some sandwiches, followed by unlimited replenishment. It turned out that she had been living with this multi-millionaire, who had withdrawn large amounts of cash from his business and had fled the country. He was living on a yacht off the coast of Spain and would not be coming back. He had fled from some individuals who were very keen to become reacquainted with him. They had been around several times looking for him. She was living by selling a considerable amount of jewellery that was in her possession and she was looking to move. It will come as no surprise to learn that I spent a considerable amount of time round there. She warned me that if I was ever contemplating having a bath with her, I would have to give her plenty of notice to heat up enough water to fill the small swimming pool. The forward lady, I had never thought of such a thing. She did not mention that there were the police officers who regularly scaled her trees bordering the long drive to the house keeping an eye out and noting visitors. I guess that this was so regular, that they became un-noticed. She became Regular number 3.
During the early days of our relationship, I called round to take her out for a drink in a local pub. When I arrived, she suggested taking the dog with us. That was fine, as I was very casually dressed in jeans, and so was she. Then off we went in her Mini and we rolled up at a very stately home, pulled up and let the dog out. What a cheek, I thought, to let your dog use such a place as a toilet. We walked over to the house entrance and were greeted by the most flamboyant guy you have ever seen. “Hello, darling, it’s been ages since I have seen you and your lovely big boy,” referring to the dog. We were then introduced and quickly invited in. He then said that his partner (a very well-known female impersonator) would be down soon. “Will you be staying to dinner, darlings?” he enquired. “Well, we may as well” came the reply. I must have swallowed very loudly at the response, as I only had about fifteen quid in my pocket. Dinner in a posh hotel had not been on the radar when I set out. We were shown into the restaurant, which was completely empty and I wondered whether or not this was an actual hotel or a private residence. I couldn’t help noticing a magnificent grand piano which was liberally encrusted with diamonds. I was then given a leather-bound menu. A quick glance revealed that the cheapest item listed was garden peas at £5 in the extras section. Now I was always up for a meal, but I must have let out an extra loud gasp. We made our order and then the ‘Queen’ arrived. I did not speak much during the evening, nor did I enjoy the meal. My thoughts were consumed with how I was going to pay for this with my severely limited funds. How was I going to get out of this one? I need not have worried as a reassuring hand came on my lap and slithered up towards my appendage. A smile said it all and she obviously knew what I had been going through. I’m still not sure if she paid or if it was on the house. A gentleman never discusses such things.
I spent many happy days and nights with her. There was no falling in love or anything like that; we used each other. On nice afternoons in the summer, I would slip up there when I was not on programme and watch Wimbledon on T.V. in the garden (an electric ring main with sockets ran around the garden fencing), while served with liberal quantities of lager. One evening she had invited four of her friends over and when I arrived they were already quite merry. As the evening went on, they were all keen to try me out and made no secret of it. She just laughed. Later we were all summoned into the bathroom to find that the bath had been duly filled with hot water and relevant ‘smellies’ and copious amounts of foam bubbles. All six of us stripped off and jumped in. The drinks flowed and it felt that I was being besieged by a many-handed octopus below water level. They were all coming closer, one by one, and then lots of spit swapping and tonsil tennis started. I began to worry, a bit like when I was in the restaurant. How am I going to get out of this? They were all clambering for it. They each had a turn and then the realisation came over me that “You Only Have One Bullet to Give” and which one is going to get it. Again, she laughed about the situation. Am I being constantly being set up with challenges, I wondered? Anyhow, she was really good and made sure that she got the bullet. The others were still in pursuit, however and I was rescued when eats were served. Was this another test – women or food? Do you know, it’s a very close race.
This absolutely stunning sex machine was taking up a lot of my time. I had others who depended on me keeping them fit. I was already doubling up most evenings and then I had many functions that I was required to attend. I now understood the need for my colleagues “appointment chart”. But still, new material kept presenting itself. Female visitors to the College wanted to take full advantage, especially when they were staying overnight, to let their hair down and have a few sherbets. Seeing them back to their room, especially with hundreds of pairs of eyes on you was especially challenging. I have had many stupid phone calls during the night requesting my presence to discuss futile subjects relating to the next day’s events. Enough said. I also used to receive telephone calls during the night from hungry females shouting: “Get your arse over here!” You will understand that I had somewhat of a reputation. The telephone was in the hallway of the staff residential block. My neighbours were vey senior tutors
, professors and the like, save for my constantly pissed Welsh staff officer, who used to delight in covering toilet bowls in cling film to produce a drum roll. Well, it was funny the first time; little Taff was always up to something. He once made a giant leek and climbed up a tree outside of the Commandant’s office and planted it there. On the way down, he slipped and gashed his leg along with his uniform. He was so pissed that I caught him stitching the gash on his leg with great thick black wool. I frog-marched him over to the College hospital and introduced him to the new College matron, who fixed him up in more ways than one. So, started a relationship that screwed his head up good and proper. He changed dramatically and went downhill. She turned out to be stark, raving bonkers. She could out-drink most blokes and indeed used to drink with her pet parrot on her shoulder. I kid you not. She was commonly referred to as ‘Coffee and Cock’ as she used to always seem to hang around when drunken students returned to the College. She was easily recognisable. She was the one with bird shit down her left shoulder. This mad environment that we were living in caused many lost souls and was responsible for ending quite a few marriages and careers.
Chapter Twelve
The Great Joke Competition
We were always looking for new ways to keep the students happy and amused. We used to have darts, dominoes, snooker, cards, chess and indoor tournaments. Soccer both indoor and outdoor, rugby, tug-o-war both indoor and outdoor, athletics, quizzes and swimming galas. The swimming galas caused the most excitement. For those who could not swim too well, they had the opportunity to give everyone a laugh by dressing up as a beauty queen. They would represent their course at the interval beauty contest. The winner was presented with a sash and a trophy. When deciding on what to call the winning title, there could only be one possible title – ‘Miss Intercourse’.
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