Gooselock Holmes and the Curious case of the Maths Master (Part 1)

There has been much ?speculation? (as Old Git says when boys have got wind of some sordid truth and he is about to do a fib) about the wrathdays of my great friend and fellow sufferer Gooselock Holmes minor who has a visage like a baboon and is a clot faced wet.
Some have implied that he is a dashing chap resplendent in his Goosestalker hat and his agility at Fencing, leaping about being generally brave and feareless etcetera and that he knoweth everything. He certainly knows some things no other boys know.
Imagine the scene: 3B are recreating between periods in the normal way toughing each other up swapping betting tickets; pants has put garry brooke in the inkwell and pinched Selwyns?s compass to hoick him out. It really is most indelicate. Gooselock Holmes is reading a book about poisons, apparently above the fray.

Malkybariarty the mad maths master enters.
"Good morning boys," he says but no-one hears there is too much racket. "GOOD MORNING BOYS" he says, more loudly but the din continues it is now like the battle of Maiwand misiles rain down jezail bullets fly (actually it is blotch soaked in ink).
I, Arizona Bay minor, the terror of 3B also ignore Malkybariartys entrance, I am immersed in a game of dab criket (wg grace 995 n.o.) with Ottosson Foxtrott Junior (he is a gurly he says "hello clouds hello sky"). Suddenly my sporting concentration is broken. Malkybariarty has aimed the chalk accurately into my wide open mouth. Other boys stop ragging and LARFF uproariously. Gooselock Holmes conceals his book about poisons under desk and continues reading.

Posted By: Gooselock Holmes on January 9th 2009 at 10:39:42

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