The Prig of a Prefect
Ours was an ordinary State School yet power goes to the head. The prefects had power and they liked to exert it. They were able to give out lines, essays or even two lashes of the cane as punishments. A group of them thought they were escapees from Tom Brown’s schooldays. They had taken on all the affectations of Public School boys. They thought they were really something. They strutted around the school and even took to wearing little paisley waistcoats.
I thought they were pretentious pillocks and had numerous run-ins with one in particular. He centred me out for special attention. He did not appreciate my hair, the liberties I took with the school uniform or my attitude. There was a mutual dislike.
After one altercation he handed me six pages and demanded that I write out an essay on Newton’s Fourth Law of Thermodynamics. I told him he could stick it up his arse.
It was a dangerous ploy. The bunch of them could turn nasty.
Shortly afterwards he gave me another six page essay on ‘should psychoanalysis be used as evidence in courts?’
He had given me blank paper so I drew a line on each side and wrote in big letters – ‘NO! BUT ALL THOSE IN POSITIONS OF POWER SHOULD BE PSYCHOANALYSED BEFORE BEING PLACED IN THOSE POSITIONS!’
He was furious.
The matter went as far as the Headteacher and my father got involved. He was angry. He thought the essays were inappropriate for a fourteen year old. The Head agreed.
My victory did nothing to improve relationships with the guy.
It all came to a head one day at the milk crates. Everyone, right up until Thatcher put a stop to it, received a third of a pint of milk at break-time. I was standing around with a small group of friend, drinking milk and having a laugh. This particular prefect was on duty and was swanning around with a couple of his henchmen. Some of the kids had thrown their empty bottles in the puddle instead of putting them back in the crates.
There were lots of Year 7, 8 and 9s milling about but he viciously selected me and ordered me to pick up the bottles out of the puddle. I was in Year 19. There was no way I was going to be humiliated by picking up dirty bottles out of a puddle in front of little first years. I told him to get stuffed. He lost his temper and threatened to have me thrashed. I lost it and was right in his face. I explained to him very slowly that if he so much as laid a finger on me I would put him in hospital. Then I stalked away.
It was all that was required. He could see that I meant it. I never had any more trouble with him again.
Since then I’ve seen power mess with a lot of people’s heads. It does strange things to people. Most people cannot handle it. I think it was Tom Paine or it might have been George Washington who said – ‘Most men can handle failure but if you want to see the real character of a man – give him power’. How true.
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