Tony almost choked as his brain digested these words, “Gay!” he exclaimed loudly. “What do you mean, gay?”
“Well,” Bruce started to explain, “from what I’ve seen, as soon as these men get on the pitch they all start slapping each others’ bottoms. True?”
Tony was lost for words for a moment before he admitted, “Err, well, yes, but there’s nothing in that. That’s just for encouragement.”
Bruce scratched his head again before speaking, “And then when a goal is scored every man on his team rushes as fast as they can to the player who scored and they throw their arms around him, cuddle him and then shower him in kisses!”
The group nodded in agreement, as if this had only just occurred to them.
“He’s got a good point, hasn’t he?” Keenan chipped in.
“Are you seeing a pattern here?” Bruce asked Tony.
Tony started to look incredibly uncomfortable and it was obvious he was trying to think of plausible explanations for these things. But unable to find the words to defend the beautiful game and articulate a counterargument he muttered feebly, “Look it’s not like that, honestly.”
But Bruce had Tony against the ropes and launched his final assault: “Oh and then after the game you all go back to the changing rooms, strip off so you are completely naked, whip each others’ arses with wound up towels and then you all get into a great big bath tub together and drink champagne. It seems to me like football is an outlet for latent homosexual outpourings.”
Tony’s mouth hung open flabbergasted for a moment. “But that’s only if we win,” he said finally.
“What is?” asked Bruce confused.
“We only have champagne if we’ve won a big game,” Tony stated weakly.
“But regardless of winning or losing, you still indulge in the kissing, cuddling, towel whipping and the naked communal bath,” Bruce enquired, “don’t you?”
Tony’s body hung limply as if his whole world had been shattered as he spoke quietly, “Yes Bruce, we still do all that.”
Above the titters from the rest of the group Bruce concluded with a camp flick of his wrist, “Oh just ignore me Tony, it’s probably just my big, gay, overactive imagination.”
Slowly, Tony laid down on his bed and lowered his head onto the pillow. His face enjoyed that momentarily coolness of the fabric against his skin.
Gareth walked over to Tony with a glass of red wine, “Here Tony,” he offered kindly, “they’re only pulling your leg.”
“Cheers Gareth,” Tony said as he sat up and took the wine, “what is it?”
“It’s red wine, the grape is called Shiraz and I think you’ll like it,” Gareth said gently.
Tony sniffed the liquid and took a small sip, “Hmmm, yeah, that’s alright,” he said sounding surprised. Gareth smiled and went back to join the others.
Tony looked down at the clothes he was wearing - the sweat stained football shirt and then at the tight, pink hot pants. Then he started to reflect on his day. He’d chatted up a woman, played a bit of sport, scored a goal, been made captain of the team, looked at semi-naked women in magazines, had a wank, been involved in a fight, engaged in a bit of banter and drunk some alcohol. All things considered it was pretty much a perfect day, he admitted to himself regardless of the circumstances. He thought very carefully about this for a moment before he necked his wine, leapt out of bed and walked across to join the others, empty wine glass in hand “Hey guys, do you want to hear a filthy joke?”
“Sure,” Bruce said eagerly.
“Okay. What’s the difference between Clint Eastwood and anal sex?” Tony said bawdily already laughing at the punchline yet to come.
“I don’t know, what?” said Bruce grinning from ear to ear.
“Give me a top up and I’ll tell you,” Tony said cheekily holding his glass out to Gareth.
Gareth smiled and duly topped up Tony’s glass. “Go on tell us then!” he ordered.
Marc snatched the bottle from Gareth, held it up to the light to see how much was left and drank directly from it, “Yeah tell us Tony,” he slurred loudly.
Outside the room Uwe skulked. He couldn’t make out the words but he recognised the low sound of Tony’s voice followed by shrieks of laughter. He ground his teeth together and squeezed his fists into balls before silently descending the stairs. He walked across the foyer, through the main doors and stood on the steps outside the building. He placed his hands on his hips and looked up at the text inscribed in stone above the doorway, ‘Ad augusta per angusta.’ He repeated these words softly, like a mantra, as he gazed at the night sky for a few moments. Finally he took a deep breath before making his way back up to their room to join the party. It felt like the longest journey he’d been on in a long time.
Chapter Nine
The group awoke the next morning relatively early considering antics of the night before. As usual Uwe was the first to the bathroom to prepare for the day. Tony got up and stretched. He was still wearing yesterday’s football top and one of the socks, though he’d removed the hot pants and they lay next to his bed in a heap. He took off his football shirt and threw it onto the floor; the movement wafted the smell of Tony’s body odour towards Hugh.
“Phew, Tony you stink,” said Hugh holding his nose. “You can use the shower next if you like.”
Tony lifted his arm up to reveal a mass of hair. He sniffed at his armpit, inhaling a lungful, “What are you talking about? It hums but it doesn’t stink.”
“It stinks Tony. Seriously,” Hugh said looking Tony in the eye.
“You woofters are so bleeding sensitive. Look, throw me your deodorant if it bothers you that much,” Tony suggested.
“But it’s a roll-on,” Hugh said pleadingly.
“So?” replied Tony. “Just give it to me.” He leant over to Hugh with an outstretched arm.
Hugh muttered to himself and took his toiletries bag out of his cabinet. “Here!” he said irritably handing Tony the deodorant.
Tony took it and proceeded to roll it into his clammy armpits. Once he’d finished he took another sniff of himself and smiled contentedly. “There! All done,” he said to Hugh handing the roll-on back to him.
Hugh recoiled in disgust, “Keep it!” he said sharply with a wave of his hand.
Gareth laughed, “You can’t just cover it up with deodorant Tony. You actually need to have a proper wash now and then.”
“I had a shower a few days ago Gareth,” Tony said defensively.
“Yeah, alright. But maybe have another one tonight eh?” added Keenan having his tuppenceworth.
“You also might want to think about washing your clothes or buying some more,” said Gareth. “I’m not sure how long you’re going to eek those ones out,” he said, gesturing to the crumpled clothes next to Tony’s bed. “And you’re still sleeping on the shit stained Phantom bed sheet aren’t you,? he said sternly.
“I turned the sheet over so the shitty side is against the mattress now!”
“Tony!”
“Alright, alright!” he said holding his hands up, “I’ll get the sheet cleaned properly today, I’ll get some more clothes this weekend and I’ll have a shower tonight. Is there anything else while we’re here?” he said contemptuously.
“No, that’s all…for now,” Gareth said with a smile.
They continued with their morning preparations and talked about what the day had in store for them.
“Are we about ready?” Keenan asked, “I’d like to get some breakfast before we go to our first lecture.”
A quick discussion ensued when it was agreed that they’d all go and have breakfast together.
“Marc wake up,” Hugh shouted at the duvet covered lump curled up on the bed, but after he received no response he walked across to Marc’s bed and gave him a shake.
“Erggh,” grunted Marc as he stirred.
Hugh tried again, “Marc, come on or we’ll be late.” He shook him again but harder this time.
“I don’
t feel well, I need more sleep,” groaned Marc before turning over.
“Leave him Hugh,” said Giles, “don’t mother him.”
“Okay, but breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” Hugh added sagely.
They finished their morning routine and headed down to the refectory for breakfast together.
“Do you think Marc will be alright?” Hugh asked with concern.
“If you are that worried about him then simply bring him a strong coffee back after breakfast,” Uwe replied unsympathetically.
“If he can’t handle his booze that’s his problem Hugh, just take care of your own affairs, you’re not Mother Teresa,” Tony said.
Hugh nodded unsurely and they made their way to have breakfast.
After breakfast they headed onto Ben’s classroom for the day’s lecture. They all took their places on the cushions in the room. Tony sat down and fiddled with the tassels as they waited for Ben to arrive. The door burst open and Ben strolled in fashionably late.
“Good morning my nearest, dearest and queerest,” Ben greeted in his customary manner. “How are we all today?” adding “good, good,” before anyone had a chance to answer. He walked towards them and gestured with his hands for them to clear a space. The students shuffled out of the way, leaving a walkway for Ben. “Well, today we’re going to deal with ‘Walking’.”
“Walking!” Tony sneered.
“Ah Tony, for your benefit, walking is an important skill. It’s not all mincing you know,” Ben said, winking at him. “It’s far more complicated than that.” He held his hand up in front of him and counted off some examples. “You’ve got the ‘Saturday Night Fever strut’, then there’s the ‘teaser’, you’ve got the smug ‘I know you’re watching me’, and let us not forget the angry ‘storming out’.”
The class listened intently and made notes.
“Now, who shall we have first?” Ben asked and Gareth’s hand shot into the air. “Ah, please stand up. Let’s all see what you’ve got.”
Gareth rose to his feet and walked over to Ben.
“I think we’ll start off with a casual walk; this can be used when you’re shopping on the high street or walking in the park. This is a day-to-day walk that you should adopt and put your own little twist on. We’re not all robots now, are we?” He stepped forward and gestured for Gareth to follow and copy. Ben sauntered with the grace of an eel, hips undulating slightly, back straight, but his whole demeanour was relaxed. Gareth studied him for a moment or two and then followed him. He attempted to copy the walk and for the first few steps it was not quite right.
“Almost,” Ben said as he looked round at Gareth. “Loosen your hips slightly.”
Gareth took the advice and relaxed his hips, and the group looked on as Gareth mimicked Ben.
Ben stopped walking and said, “Now try by yourself without following me.”
Gareth slowed for a moment as he concentrated on each step. With each repetition he began to gain mastery of this walk and sped up slightly. He walked back and forth between his class mates performing a small flourish at the end of the space as he turned and walked back again.
Ben applauded, “Bravo, Bravo,” and the rest of the class followed suit and cheered Gareth. “Okay, take a seat. Who’s next? Hugh, what about you?”
Hugh rose to his feet and walked up to Ben.
“Okay follow me,” Ben instructed eagerly. He repeated his saunter as Hugh attempted to follow and copy him. “Relax, relax,” Ben said constructively, “you’re too stiff.”
Hugh walked back and forth as Ben watched, “How’s that?” he asked.
“Hmmm,” Ben said as he thought of how best to continue. “The best way that I can describe that is…it looks like you’re on the waiting list for a hip replacement.”
Deflated, Hugh stopped walking and sat back down on his cushion.
“Never mind though Hugh, early days, early days,” Ben said trying to comfort him. He looked for his next volunteer, “Uwe, come on you try it.”
Uwe rose elegantly and walked up to the front, Ben started to walk forward and demonstrate but Uwe spoke, “That is not necessary Ben, I believe I can do this without you.”
“Oh, very well, please show us Uwe,” Ben said.
Uwe started to clap his hands slowly, and everyone looked rather confused. Uwe continued to clap but outstretched his arms a little and slowly moved his head from one side of the group to the other.
“I think he wants us to clap a rhythm, the arrogant bastard,” Keenan whispered to the other students sitting near to him. Keenan joined Uwe in clapping his hands, and Uwe nodded at Keenan to thank him. The rest of the class started to join in until they were all clapping out a slow beat. Uwe kept them waiting just long enough and then walked forward. He kept in perfect time and performed the walk with absolute Teutonic precision, and as he turned his heels clicked together. The class gasped at Uwe’s show and he repeatedly sauntered up and down before them.
Hugh leant over to Giles, “I actually think he’s better than Ben,” he whispered, so Ben would not hear.
“Well, well,” Ben said approvingly, “you really know how to deliver the goods, Uwe. That was perfect, absolutely perfect!” He slapped him on the back, “Now take a seat and let someone else have a turn.”
Uwe took his place on his cushion again.
“Hey, you were pretty good at that, Uwe,” Tony said quietly.
“You sound surprised Tony,” Uwe replied. “We’re not all goose-stepping whores in Germany.”
Tony raised his eyebrows, “Goose-stepping whores, eh? I am beginning to like the sound of Germany. I might even visit there one day. It sounds a little kinky.” He laughed out loud whilst Uwe appeared puzzled.
“And what are you so happy about Tony?” Ben bellowed. “Come on down Tony, dazzle us.”
Tony stopped laughing and groaned, but duly stood up. He kicked his cushion with the back of his foot and walked up to join Ben.
Ben sauntered forward repeating the walk and Tony wandered sullenly behind him making no effort at all. “What the hell is that Tony?” cried Ben.
Tony shrugged, “I did my best,” he whined like a spoilt teenager.
“I doubt that very much Tony,” Ben replied. “You walk like an ape. Just take a look at yourself dragging your knuckles on the floor behind you.”
Tony shrugged again and looked unimpressed.
Ben scratched his head for a moment and thought about how to motivate Tony. After a few seconds he smiled, “I know, the problem it’s that you can’t relate to this, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” Tony muttered moodily.
“Wait one minute,” Ben ran over to the front of the class and hastily set up the projector. He searched his laptop for a few moments before finding what he was looking for. The class listened to the hum of the projector as it warmed up and shone a beam of light onto the screen. Ben double clicked his mouse and the speakers crackled. The opening sequence of Saturday Night Fever played onto the projector screen while the music blared out.
“Watch this then,” Ben shouted at Tony over the music.
Tony sat back down with the others and watched as John Travolta strutted down the New York street in 1970s’ Brooklyn. The opening sequence finished and Ben stopped the show.
“Now Tony, what did you think to that?”
Tony nodded reluctantly, “Pretty cool, I have to admit.”
“Yes!” said Ben clapping his hands together loudly. “Now do you reckon you can do that?” Ben enthused.
Reticently, Tony stood up and walked to the front again to join Ben.
“Go on then, show me.” Ben smiled and took a few steps forward demonstrating to Tony the basic movements.
Tony copied and repeated the actions.
“Watch again,” Ben ordered, “see how I flick the hip?” He took a few slow steps again. “Now you try.”
“Monkey see, monkey do,” whispered Uwe superciliously.
“Alright, alright, keep y
our hair on,” Tony complained as he stepped forward and repeated the moves over and over again.
“By George, I think he’s got it!” shouted Ben triumphantly and he ran back to his laptop and started the sequence again. The projector screen sprang into life once more as Tony stood still. “Come on Tony, what are you waiting for?” Ben urged.
Tony swallowed and stepped forward slowly and performed the walk. As his confidence picked up so did his pace. Behind him the footage of John Travolta was displayed on the projector screen and Tony re-enacted it for a live audience. After a few struts back and forth Tony started to get into the swing of it and his classmates clapped and cheered him on. He added in a few twists and shakes along the way to their rapturous applause. When the music stopped and the dialogue cut in Ben stopped it once again.
“Well,” he said to the class, “how on earth are we going to top that?”
Tony made his way back to his cushion to a rapturous applause. He sat down quickly and received several pats on the back and legs from his classmates. He flinched at their touch and growled, “Don’t touch me you bum bandits.”
“Well, which brave soul is going to follow that magnificent performance?” Ben asked the class. There were a few moments of awkwardness until finally one of the class stood up and made his way to the front.
“Come on everyone, let’s give him some encouragement,” Ben said clapping.
The lesson continued with Ben demonstrating different walks and with the students practising, but after several hours the bell rang and Ben brought the lesson to a close.
“Do not ask for whom the bell tolls!” he declared grandiosely.
The class put their notepads and pens away and rose from their cushions as they made their way out of the classroom and off to the refectory for lunch.
“Tony, Hugh,” Ben said trying to get their attention, “would you mind staying behind for a few moments?”
They both nodded and stepped aside to let their classmates past. Once the last of the students had left the room Ben beckoned them over.
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