Spud

by Unknown

  Friday 21st June

  The Guv fed me roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. He banged his plate with his spoon and shouted, ‘Silence!’ This was a bit unnecessary because I wasn’t speaking at the time. He then folded his left arm behind his back and led with the spoon. ‘This British initiation literary luncheon, Mr Milton, is in your honour before your travels abroad to the green and pleasant land. May God help you!’ He then sat down and poured wine into his glass. With a mouth full of food he shouted, ‘God yes, Milton! Christ’s College Cambridge. It’s where the less illustrious Milton studied. And don’t forget the mulberry tree!’ I didn’t know what he was going on about so I nodded and said it was already on the list. He peered at me over his spectacles and asked, ‘You’re not taking your grandmother, are you?’ I nodded and said she had to come because she’s paying for the trip. Then The Guv said, ‘Christ almighty!’ and shook his head in amazement before returning to his nosh. At the end of the meal we sang a raucous version of For She’s A Jolly Good Fellow to Gloria as she was packing up the plates. Gloria smiled and curtsied. The Guv told Gloria her meal was so good it could be deemed counter revolutionary. It was clear that Gloria didn’t have a clue what The Guv had just said and replied to him in Zulu and then exited to the kitchen. The Guv asked what Gloria had said. I shrugged. He leaned back in his chair and stared at me. ‘Milton,’ he said after about thirty seconds, ‘how the blinkers do we form a bond with these people if we can’t speak their language?’ I didn’t know the answer so I did my AA trick where I shrug sadly and then look forlornly out the window.

  I then read out my Alan Paton essay which The Guv called ‘a triumph’. I should point out that by this stage he was onto his second bottle of wine. He did say that my repeated mentions of Alan Paton in my essay entitled ‘Changing Colours’ smacked of arse creeping.

  Then The Guv made my week.

  I charged back to the dormitory to tell the others that The Guv was taking us on a school outing on Sunday. And that outing is to the Royal Show in Pietermaritzburg! The Guv said he would book a minibus and sign off the day as a cultural and learning tour. Not only are we going to watch Fatty live in action, we’re also not breaking any school rules which makes for a change.

  Thanks to my English teacher I am the most popular boy in the dorm.

  21:00 Fatty’s final dress rehearsal was broken up by Sparerib who ordered the huge crowd of boys back to their houses and confiscated all of Fatty’s hotdogs. Boggo was so outraged that he hurled six eggs onto Sparerib’s roof after lights out. Poor Fatty hadn’t gone to dinner and had to be content with a quarter loaf of bread and a packet of Big Korn Bites.

  Saturday 22nd June

  Another day of rugby carnage. We were the only under 15 side to win against Rustrek. We took it 22-18. My body felt like it had been pulverized. Those Afrikaners may know very little about running a country but they can sure tackle hard. Mom and Dad came up and remarked on how much I had grown and how I was really becoming a man. I felt pretty rugged in my boots and rugby jersey. Soon the word ‘spud’ will be a distant memory. Thank God!

  Our first team lost again, although this time it was close: 12-10.

  My father was sozzled by the time the first team game kicked off. He sat among the local crowd and was soon cheering along for Rustrek. I prayed nobody would notice him singing along in Afrikaans and shouting, ‘RUSTREK! RUSTREK!’

  At half time a Rustrek supporter got drunk and disorderly and started abusing our school from behind the stands. He accused our forefathers of killing his great-grandmother in a concentration camp during the Boer War. Pike jumped up and shouted, ‘That’s right, bonehead, and when we leave school we’re coming to get the rest of you!’ Luthuli got involved and tried to calm the situation down but the red-faced Rustrekker told Luthuli not to touch him and suddenly looked violent. Other parents (including my father) dragged the drunkard away and the Boer War on the field continued. After we had lost I managed to stop my father before he joined the Rustrek Old Boys doing a war cry in the middle of the field. I shat all over him for supporting an opposition school. He denied everything and said he had just been getting in the spirit of things and that the Rustrek supporters were dishing out free beer and koeksisters. Clearly he didn’t think I’d noticed the Rustrek scarf around his neck.

  Mr Hall was so pissed off after the match that he didn’t even talk to his team. He shook the opposition coach’s hand and then got in his car and buggered off. Pike and Devries tried to start up a fight with the opposition fans by performing a bad impression of Bobbejaan Klim Die Berg with Devries walking around on the grass like a baboon. The opposition fans started shouting and booing. Pike bowed and they all called us ‘souties’.

  Sunday 23rd June

  Nasty day of slogging. I’m feeling the pressure what with Sparerib slinking around and breathing down my neck.

  House play rehearsals were cancelled because Anderson wasn’t feeling well. Think this might have been a ruse to avoid rehearsing because Fatty said he saw Anderson in the queue for seconds at lunchtime and Boggo spotted him playing touch rugby in the afternoon.

  Friday 28th June

  EXAM PREDICTIONS

  ENGLISH A

  AFRIKAANS B

  MATHS B

  HISTORY A

  My grades spell out ABBA. Fatty said this would only be counted as a supernatural sign if I was studying Swedish.

  GEOGRAPHY A

  SPEECH & DRAMA A

  BIOLOGY C

  SCIENCE D

  ART C

  Half the school turned out for touch rugby in the Friday afternoon rain. Then there was the final war cry practice of the year, followed by duck diving down at the bog stream.

  I decided my handwriting was illegible so I spent prep rewriting my Alan Paton essay and made the writing bigger and clearer just in case my marker is old or nearsighted. Unfortunately, it now looks like the essay was written by a twelve-year-old. I handed ‘Changing Colours’ in to Sparerib just seconds before the lights out siren. Sparerib didn’t bother to wish me luck or even congratulate me on finishing my masterpiece. All he could do was tap his watch with his finger and glare at me with his wonky eye.

  I suspect my housemaster has no imagination and no creative writing ability. How Eve agreed to marry him remains a mystery.

  Saturday 29th June

  Pig gave us a stirring speech behind the rubbish bins before we charged onto the field for our final game of the year against St Luke’s. At half time Mongrel shat all over us for being a bunch of monkey naaiers and told us to keep our discipline. He also told Vern to stop holding his ‘pielie’ when he’s waiting for the ball because it offends the ladies. I was busy sucking hard on an orange quarter when I saw a beautiful red headed girl striding along the touchline. It was Amanda. I turned to run off in a rugged fashion but Vern was standing right behind me muttering away to himself and pulling savagely at his laces. I fell over, clashing heads with Rain Man in the process. Any chance of nobody witnessing the disaster was gone when Vern got up and tore across the field like a headless chicken, screaming at the top of his voice.

  There was wild jeering and laughter and unfortunately Amanda, too, was doubled over and ended up having a coughing fit.

  I soon realised that the large crowd of over two hundred had actually gathered to watch Vern and not the under 15Cs. This became obvious when three quarters of them crossed to the far side of the field so that they could be on Vern’s wing for the second half. The support must have worked because Vern scored two tries. His second try was scored in the corner so I had to convert from right in front of a huge crowd still giggling at Vern’s zap sign running style. Amanda was standing no more than three metres from the end of my run up which meant that my right leg was suddenly convulsing. I closed my eyes and gave the ball a thump. It hit the post and didn’t go over but I still received the loudest cheer of my entire rugby career.

  Amanda followed me back towards the house. She says Vern is the most ext
raordinary human being that she’s ever seen. When we got to the house door I told Amanda to wait outside for me but she didn’t listen and followed me up the stairs and into the dormitory. The next minute she was lying on top of me on my bed and we were kissing full on. I knew that I could get into some serious poo if Sparerib found me so I ended the passionate kiss and headed for the showers.

  Back in the dormitory I found Amanda standing in Boggo’s cubicle with a huge grin on her face. She pointed at his locker and said, ‘Whoever sleeps here has porn. And a lot of it.’ I wanted to kiss her again but then I noticed that her eyes were watching something over my shoulder. Vern was standing at the door blushing bright pink. Amanda tried her best not to laugh and said, ‘Hello, Vern.’ Vern looked at the floor and didn’t answer.

  Amanda said, ‘Do you know who I am?’ Vern giggled and blushed and looked around in a shady manner. He then said, ‘Mermaid’ and ran out of the dormitory. Amanda asked me why he’d called her a mermaid. I told her that that’s what he calls all girls.

  Amanda kissed me again in the main quad in the full view of Boggo and Rambo. Then she strode across the grass and disappeared through the archway. Mad Dog gave me a vicious high five and celebrated by humping the gutter pipe and making loud orgasm noises. Rambo didn’t say a word and stalked into the house.

  I am definitely in love with Amanda.

  Sunday 30th June

  THE ROYAL SHOW

  The less said about The Guv’s driving the better. In fact I’m not even sure he should have a driving licence. By the time we got to the show grounds Fatty said he was feeling carsick. We all followed Fatty into the toilet while The Guv said he would catch up to us later because he wanted to attend a pig auction.

  Wild screaming welcomed our man onto the stage. Fatty waved at the crowd and blushed a deep purple. He took his seat at the end of a long table with ten chairs. Bad news was that Fatty wasn’t the biggest; he wasn’t even the third biggest. One of the contestants was a lady. Her name was Sonja from Vryheid and Boggo said she could be a man in disguise. The hugest man was Heinz from Wartburg. He had ginger hair and enormous curly sideburns. Turns out Heinz won last year. In fact he hasn’t lost an eating competition since 1987 when he was in jail and couldn’t take part. According to one of the organizers, Heinz then became a Born Again Christian and started eating for charity and making speeches at churches. The announcer said the Royal Show and the city of Pietermaritzburg were honoured to welcome Heinz back for another year and hopefully yet another victory. He didn’t say anything about the others except to wish them luck and announce their names.

  When Fatty’s name was called out The Guv stood up and shouted, ‘That’s our man Falstaff!’ (The Guv calls Fatty Falstaff for some unknown reason.) Pretty girls in pink bikinis brought out trays of hotdogs. The crowd whistled and cheered while Mad Dog barked loudly and shouted, ‘Hubba! Hubba!’

  RULES

  Each contestant has twenty minutes to eat as many hotdogs as possible.

  No hooching (vomiting). This is an instant disqualification.

  No leaving of your contestant’s chair until the twenty minutes is up. (Also disqualification.)

  A starter pistol was fired and Fatty launched into his hotdogs like a demon. The crowd roared and clapped as ten gluttons piled into their trays like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Five gluttons dropped out before reaching ten hotdogs and Fatty was the first to call for a second tray. Sonja the Vryheid transvestite also called for a reload but the corners of her mouth were turned down like she’d had enough. She also placed her hooch bucket right next to her and Rambo said this was a definite sign that she was a psychological mess.

  Boggo also noticed this because he pointed it out to Fatty and then repeatedly thumped him on the back like a jockey hitting a horse. The next tray arrived and while Fatty doctored half of his hotdogs with tomato sauce Boggo kept shouting, ‘Come on, big boy, you can do it!’ Rambo didn’t like the way Fatty only sauced half his rolls – he reckoned it was sending a negative sign to the opposition. Another huge man with ‘Glencoe’ written on his shirt ordered another tray of hotdogs and downed a big glass of water. (Boggo has banned Fatty from drinking water – he claims a glass of water takes the space of one and a quarter hotdogs and may only be used in case of choking or fire.)

  From across the table Heinz stood and waved to the crowd. He called for his second tray and then lit up a cigar. The crowd seemed thrilled with this and everyone chanted, ‘HEINZ! HEINZ! HEINZ!’

  Unbelievably, the skinniest person in the competition (Boris from Howick) raised his hand and called for another tray. The tension was now hotting up: Fatty was leading on twelve hotdogs, with the others still eating their eleventh. There was a long discussion between our man and his manager before Fatty began on his thirteenth hotdog. In fact it wasn’t really a discussion, but more like a lecture from Boggo who kept prodding the hotdog with his finger and shouting in poor Fatty’s ear. I couldn’t hear what was going on but Fatty had his head bowed and seemed to have had enough. Sonja stopped eating after her eleventh but unfortunately she didn’t need her hooch bucket. She sat back in her seat and kept her eyes pinned on Fatty.

  Heinz stubbed out his cigar on the table and then began preparing himself for more hotdogs. Glencoe finished his eleventh but then stuck his head into his hooch bucket. The crowd went mad as Glencoe staggered off the stage and disappeared behind it. Fatty finished hot dog number thirteen and Boggo massaged his shoulders and kept whispering in his ear like a boxing trainer in between rounds.

  Boris from Howick is the Ivan Lendl of hotdog eating. He showed no emotion, chewed at exactly the same speed every single time and was also the only contestant who ate his hotdogs without tomato sauce.

  With six minutes to go nobody was eating and all three contenders (plus Sonja from Vryheid, who was obviously hoping someone would hooch her into third place) were sitting back in their chairs looking down at their trays. Fatty picked up number fourteen and the crowd cheered. He ate it quickly, took a few deep breaths and then sat back in his chair again. Heinz unfortunately proceeded to his number fourteen and nailed number fifteen straight after. The huge giant sat back in his chair and smiled at Fatty. Ivan Lendl didn’t move. He just kept watching the big clock countdown. Obviously he was happy with third place.

  Fatty then ate number fifteen and we could all tell he was finished. Boggo was obviously thinking the same thing because he was pushing the hotdog tray away from Fatty. The worst thing that could happen would be for Fatty to throw up because that meant instant disqualification. But Fatty had other ideas. He was holding the tomato sauce bottle in his left hand and pulling the tray towards him with his right. I heard Boggo shout, ‘Stop, Fatty, stop! It’s still five hundred bucks for second!’

  Heinz nailed number sixteen in three bites!

  Rambo elbowed me in the ribs and said, ‘Check Heinz. He’s psyching Fatty out.’ Heinz was daring Fatty to eat another hotdog. The crowd were chanting ‘GO! GO!

  GO!’ We were shouting, ‘NO! NO! NO!’ Fatty picked up number sixteen and took a bite. But then the dam wall broke. There were groans from the crowd as Fatty disappeared under the table with his hooch bucket. The starter pistol was fired. Heinz was champion again, followed by Ivan Lendl and Sonja, the man/woman from Vryheid, took third. While Heinz was mobbed by his fans Boggo kept passing glasses of water under the table to Fatty. The Guv, who had been drinking out of a hipflask, stood up and shouted, ‘Don’t kick the bucket, Falstaff!’ The Guv then pointed in the general direction of school and said, ‘Onward, Christian soldiers! I have a bird in the oven!’

  We all thanked The Guv for taking us to the Royal Show. He replied, ‘Nonsense, boys, the pleasure was all mine. It recalled to my mind two eras of extravagant excess: wild Elizabethan gluttony and the vomatoria of ancient Rome.’ He then told us all to f-off because it was lunchtime and he had an important meeting with a man called Sir Cabernay.

  13:30 Fatty got off the bus and charged straigh
t in to lunch because he was starving again. He said he would eat anything except a hotdog. He got roast pork and went back for thirds. Boggo has called Fatty unprofessional and is refusing to talk to him.

  The Crazy Eight spent free bounds at the Mad House. Everyone kept picking up Gilbert the Gnome and talking to him like he was real. Vern was the only one who really did think he was real. Rambo and Boggo finished a bottle of brandy and got completely sozzled. They skulked back into the house just before roll call and then passed out.

  One of the Darryls told me that my mom had phoned three times and my dad twice. He then asked me if my dad was deranged like Vern. I told him to drop for twenty for insulting my father, but the Darryl just giggled and ran away. My respect in this place is at an all time low!

  Monday 1st July

  Starting to get really excited about going to England. I’m also relieved that I’m leaving early on Thursday morning so I won’t have to skulk around the school in embarrassment after the house plays debacle which is on Wednesday.

  Julian watched our house play rehearsal and told us it was ‘an infantile disgrace’. He said the jokes were so last year, and that whoever made the decision to use Norman Whiteside’s canoe as Noah’s Ark was a halfwit. Pike’s cunning plan is that Vern as the prompt will hide in the canoe and give people their lines when they get stuck. Emberton suggested as back-up that Runt should be stationed in a dustbin near the back of the stage. Anybody who forgot their lines could then either examine the ark or throw something in the bin and get a line reading.

  My Dove of Peace part is completely embarrassing. After the flood (two blue blankets tied together and waved by Spike and JR Ewing) Noah ties a message to my leg and I have to run across the stage flapping my hands and cooing like a dove. Noah then opens a cool-box and cracks open a six pack of Castle Lager with his friends and celebrates the end of the world. They all haul up the anchor (Fatty hiding in the orchestra pit with a long rope attached to his foot) and then hold up their beers (beer bottles with Coke inside) and shout ‘Cheers!’ as REM’s It’s the End of the World as We know It ends the play.