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  Tuesday 29th January

  Mermaid called and sounded happier than I can ever remember her being. She said she won a thousand rands’ worth of shopping vouchers and free access to the Aquarium whenever she wanted. She also got flowers, jewellery and some designer clothes. Then she told me she loved me and said she had to go.

  Give us five years and we’ll be a Hollywood glamour couple like Richard Gere and Cindy Crawford!

  21:30 Greg Anderson said we were now allowed to see the first years, thereby declaring first year hunting season open, but said he would be watching us like a hawk. He then switched off the lights and slammed the door. We all marched straight to Rambo’s bed. Rambo told Vern that he was allowed to take Roger along but had to leave Potato behind in his locker because it sent out dodgy signals.

  One by one we slipped into the first year dorm. Fatty lit his candles on the floor and burned two sticks of incense. Rambo ordered the new boys to get out of bed and sit on the floor in front of the candles.

  ‘We are the second years. My name is Rambo and I am your king. If anything happens in this place, it goes by me first. You will not refuse or disobey me under any circumstances.’ He then moved to Simon. ‘This is Simon. He is the finest cricketer this school has ever seen.’ And then to Fatty. ‘This is Fatty, the greediest schoolboy the school has known. He weighs 200 kilograms, can fart for half a minute and also has supernatural powers.’ Fatty eyed the new boys solemnly and lit yet another candle. Rambo then moved to Boggo and slapped him on the back. ‘This man is Boggo – the greatest pornographer since Hugh Hefner. If your mom posed naked with a horse, believe me, Boggo’s got the proof.’ He then ambled up to Mad Dog, who took out his hunting and filleting knife. I could see the first years’ eyes widen in the candlelight. ‘This is Mad Dog, a savage, brainless killer. Whatever you do – never look him in the eyes!’ Mad Dog barked loudly and pegged his knife into Gecko’s old locker. And then Rambo came to me. ‘This is Spud, actor, singer and his girlfriend is a supermodel. Unfortunately, he’s a homo so keep away from him in the showers.’ My jaw dropped. I tried to say something but Rambo glared at me so I stopped. ‘And this is Rain Man. Last year he ran away from school, stole a hundred and fifty pairs of underpants and ripped half the hair out of his head. He is the craziest of the Crazy Eight so stay away from him at all times, particularly after dark.’ Vern grinned like a psychopath and ripped out a small clump of hair. The first years stared at him open mouthed. Rambo then introduced a wild looking Roger before asking Fatty to open the ceremony with a supernatural ritual.

  Fatty took the floor for half an hour, lighting more candles, humming strangely and generally being weird. He told them all about the ghost of Macarthur and explained that Macarthur was an English teacher who had hanged himself in the chapel in 1944 and how the mystery of his death is yet to be solved. He then went on for ages about Gecko dying and said it had happened directly after a visitation by the school ghost. Throughout his lecture on paranormal dormitory activity the first years were dead silent and wide eyed. Except for Junior Pike, who had a cheeky grin on his face like he didn’t believe a word that Fatty was saying.

  Rambo took the floor again and said, ‘Our housemaster’s nickname is Sparerib, and he’s married to Eve who’s the school counsellor. I can have sex with Eve whenever I want.’ There were a few raised eyebrows among the Crazy Eight but nobody said anything. Then Rambo said the time had come to officially nickname the first years. There are three boys who look very similar and bizarrely two of them are called Michael and the other Mark. It turns out they aren’t related although Boggo said that one of the moms could be a slut and responsible for the whole litter. Rambo decided to call them all Darryl, after the brothers Darryl in the Bob Newhart show. I christened another JR Ewing because he looks exactly like the actor from Dallas. The boy’s real name is Roy and he didn’t look very impressed with his nickname. He’s also far bigger than me so I’m now regretting getting involved at all. Mad Dog called the new Gecko impersonator Runt.

  Junior Pike was initially named Dickhead by Simon, but this was later changed to Spike. And finally, the tallest first year was then named by Fatty, who decided to call him Thinny. Vern asked if he could call one of the three Darryls Roger instead but Rambo said he liked the consistency of three Darryls. We agreed that the first years needed a group name so we called them the Normal Seven.

  THE NORMAL SEVEN

  The 3 Darryls

  JR Ewing

  Runt

  Spike

  Thinny

  Wednesday 30th January

  The Guv shouted at me in the quad this morning because I forgot lunch with him on Monday. He said he was dropping me off his Christmas card list and called me a ‘delinquent vermin’. He then shouted, ‘Monday the 4th, Milton! And if I have to reheat that Christmas turkey once more, there will be an outbreak!’ I promised him I’d remember next week. He straightened his green hunting hat, pointed his walking stick at Pissing Pete and said, ‘Exit, pursued by a bear!’ And off he went.

  12:15 ADVENTURE CLUB

  Mad Dog said he hardly slept last night because he was so excited about Adventure Club. Fatty is terrified – he reckons he’ll die if he has to abseil because the ropes won’t hold him. Nobody’s too sure how heavy Fatty is. Rambo says 200 kilograms, but I’m not so sure that’s possible. Fatty reckons he broke his mom’s scale, which only goes up to 120kgs. Anyway, it’s possible that Fatty is three times my weight and could potentially eat me in my sleep.

  Mr Hall led us across the athletics field and out into the great outdoors. He was disgusted to see Fatty doubled over on the fence gasping for breath. Bad news for Fatty was that we hadn’t even reached the dam yet! Mr Hall carried a long case, which Mad Dog reckoned had a double-barrelled shotgun in it. Once we were out of the school grounds and had finally made it to the forest, Mr Hall unzipped his case and Mad Dog was right. Mad Dog whistled and whispered with awe, ‘She’s a beauty, sir.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Hall in his gruff voice, ‘which one of you gits can throw the furthest?’ Vern’s hand shot into the air as did all the others. Mr Hall considered the situation for quite a while and then announced that we would have a throwing competition. Fatty staggered into the clearing sounding like he was on the verge of an asthma attack but was unable to enter the throwing competition because he needed both hands to hold himself up against the tree. We all hurled stones into the trees and Mad Dog won by miles. Mr Hall then led us to a ridge above the dam and pointed out a flock of Egyptian geese bobbing happily in the middle of the dam. ‘Now listen up, Mad Dog,’ he said. ‘I want your rock to land near those geese in the middle there. Is that too far for you?’ Mad Dog grinned, ran back about thirty metres, and then charged up and let rip. The rock sailed over the geese and over the dam, crashing into the reeds on the far side. We all applauded Mad Dog who barked loudly and showed off his bicep. Mr Hall lit his pipe and considered the situation for some time. He blew out a huge puff of smoke and told Mad Dog to try again.

  Mad Dog then let fly with another rock which nearly landed right on the geese. They squawked loudly and flew towards us. Mr Hall cocked his shotgun and took aim. Then there was a massive bang, a loud gasp, and a dead goose floating in the middle of the dam. Mr Hall passed his shotgun to Mad Dog, took another suck on his pipe and looked at us sternly. After some time he exhaled and said, ‘Right. Now which one of you can swim the furthest?’ Only Vern put up his hand.

  Thursday 31st January

  Got a letter from MISS TEEN DURBAN ’91. Unfortunately, it was posted last week so it was before the Mermaid became famous.

  Friday 1st February

  We had to paint a still life picture in art class. Mr Lilly had a huge drum of fruit, vegetables, logs and leaves from which we could make up our own still life. Boggo drew two litchis and a banana and made them look like two balls and a willy. When Mr Lilly saw Boggo’s effort he blushed, giggled and blew his nose. Rambo drew a picture of himself eating an apple an
d Vern drew Roger again. Mr Lilly’s seriously worried that Vern can only paint Roger and tried again in vain to get him to sketch something else but Vern refused.

  23:00 Rambo and Mad Dog woke up the first years and told them to go night swimming. One of the three Darryls refused to go and started blubbing. Rambo held him down and Fatty loosened his pyjamas and threatened to fart on him. Darryl then said he would go and climbed out the window, sniffing and shuddering. Thinny was the last to leave and Fatty warned him about getting stuck in the chapel window. We watched the Normal Seven disappear into the chapel and then returned to our beds to wait for something to happen. Within a minute our dormitory door swung open and Anderson led in a mob of prefects and matrics. They marched through our dormitory and into the first years’ dorm.

  After about half an hour the Normal Seven returned, panting and giggling and in a general state of terrified excitement. One by one they scampered through the window and back to their beds. And then suddenly there were shouts and screams and the lights were switched on. It was all a set-up! Boggo couldn’t contain himself and charged into our old dorm with the rest of us following behind. Anderson was already prowling around with his sawn-off hockey stick and looking smug. Emberton arrived with his stick of sugar cane, which has now dried into a nasty yellow stalk.

  Two of the Darryls were sniffing and the other was sobbing while Anderson marched around and gave them a grilling for being irresponsible and poor ambassadors of the school. Emberton thrashed his yellow sugar cane into a locker every time he felt it necessary.

  Then Runt stupidly raised his hand and said, ‘Sorry, sir, but Rambo forced us to do it…’ He then started snivelling. Unfortunately, that started Vern off and he began sniffing and snuffling next to me. Vern realized that everyone was now looking at him rather than at Runt so he announced, ‘Night swimming!’ rather loudly and then began stroking Roger in a furious manner. Anderson wasn’t quite sure what to make of Vern’s general madness so he allowed a long pause before continuing, ‘So, Runt, you are accusing Rambo over here of forcing you out the window and all the way to the dam and back?’ Runt nodded and sniffed. Rambo stepped forward, looking mean. Runt then began sobbing, as did Vern. Roger howled a terrible moaning sound and we all stared at the weirdos around us.

  Anderson gave the first years a choice. Either they could be beaten six by himself and Emberton or be run in to Sparerib and take their chances with him. Anderson gave Rambo a high five on the way out of our dormitory. He then paused at the light switch and said, ‘It must be quite a weird feeling. There’s shit going down and for once you’ve nothing to do with it. Let’s keep it that way.’ Then our head of house plunged us into darkness.

  I learned two things tonight:

  1) The first years’ night swimming bust is a house tradition. (Wish I’d found that out a year ago!)

  2) None of the first years had wet hair, which tells me they didn’t make it to the dam, and certainly didn’t swim.

  As my Dad says twenty minutes into every episode of Matlock: ‘The plot thickens!’

  Saturday 2nd February

  We drove for over an hour in the bus, only to arrive to find that Arlington High had forgotten to prepare a pitch. I don’t know if the coach was lying or not but he told us not to worry about getting off the bus because his team had already been sent home. The Guv was outraged and accused their coach of cowardice, malpractice and poor form. Their coach marched off in a huff after calling us a bunch of snobs. The Guv was furious and ordered the bus driver to take us to the Royal Hotel for tea and biscuits. Just before we pulled off I noticed a tall, stringy figure crouching behind some shrubs and staring right at our bus. I could have sworn it was Alexander Short Stay but I was squinting badly into the sun and couldn’t be sure. En route to the Royal, The Guv spotted a pub called The Greasy Goat and asked the driver to halt for a pit stop. We never made it to the Royal Hotel.

  20:00 The Saturday night movie was Dead Poets’ Society and it nearly caused a riot. It’s an amazing film about a teacher called Mr Keating who arrives at a private school and inspires the boys with some interesting teaching methods. (A bit like The Guv, except without The Guv’s swearing, drinking and mad behaviour.) At the end when Keating is forced to leave, Vern jumped up and shouted at the TV, sending Roger fleeing off his lap and out through the common room window. Vern soon realized that everybody was staring at him so he said, ‘Night swimming’ and then sat down. The end of the movie is seriously moving when the boys all stand on their chairs as a way of saluting their teacher. I must confess I was a little emotional and left the common room totally inspired to seize the day. Unfortunately, Death Breath said it was lights out so I had to go to bed instead.

  Sunday 3rd February

  Because of the choir singing at Evensong, it meant I had the whole day free. Still feeling inspired by Dead Poets’ Society, I suggested to Fatty that we do a day of exploring in Nottingham Road (a small farming town near school) so we borrowed two bikes and got ready to go. We were about to leave when Boggo said he was bored and wanted to come with us. Boggo took Thinny’s bike without permission and we set off into the Midlands to carpe diem.

  Fatty’s bike really took strain under his huge weight. Boggo and I took bets on when his back tyre would explode. Fatty didn’t seem concerned about possible tyre explosions and pedalled along at a furious rate. Unfortunately, we had to stop and rest every 300 metres so that he could get his breath back. Upon arriving at Nottingham Road, Fatty bought three packets of salt and vinegar chips. Boggo tried to buy a Scope magazine but the man at the till asked him for ID. I bought a small Tropika.

  We then moved on to the farmers’ market where people sell anything that’s homemade. As we approached we could see that a big crowd had gathered and loud music was being played. We chained our bikes to a fence and went in to check things out. A huge banner over the gate read:

  BITE MY BOERIE

  Underneath was a bad painting of a boerewors roll smothered in tomato sauce. Fatty took one look at the banner and charged towards the crowd. When he found out that we had stumbled upon the annual Nottingham Road boerewors eating competition he nearly fainted with joy. The bad news was that it cost twenty bucks just to enter and we only had about eighteen rand left between the three of us.

  After grovelling around in the dust for half an hour, we gave up on finding a lucky two rand coin. We then saw a brunette with huge boobs. Boggo smacked his lips together and said, ‘Watch this, I’ll kill two birds with one stone.’ He marched up to the girl and said, ‘Hello, gorgeous, do you mind if I borrow two bucks and your phone number?’ The girl looked Boggo up and down and replied, ‘Fuck off, spot face.’ She then tossed her hair back and stalked off towards the ladies’ toilet. Boggo didn’t seem fazed by the savage bat he’d received and said the brunette with big boobs was just playing hard to get.

  The entries had to be in by midday, and with ten minutes to go Boggo and Fatty finally decided the only way we could make money was for me to sing and for Boggo to pass a hat round. I refused point blank, but then Fatty promised me and Boggo a third of the prize money each if I made him two bucks. (The boerewors eating prize is a hundred rand and half a sheep.) We found a spot next to a stall that was selling lampshades. I cleared my throat before letting rip with Another Day in Paradise. Boggo stood next to me with his cap in his hand. Fatty said he needed to focus and collapsed against the fence and finished off his third packet of chips.

  Before I reached the chorus there was a crowd of about twenty people enjoying the singing and staring at the three of us like we were a bizarre circus act. At the end of the song everyone clapped and Boggo sent the hat round. He motioned for me to keep singing so I tried I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For. This seemed to hit the right note with my audience because soon there was a big crowd gathered, half of whom were singing along with me. At the end of the song there were whoops and cheers and Boggo sent the hat round again. He motioned to me to keep singing and handed Fatty
the extra two bucks needed to qualify. Fatty galloped off back to the Bite My Boerie caravan to enter.

  Next I hit my audience with The Final Countdown. (I know the words because my parents sing it whenever there’s a special occasion.) Suddenly a funny looking man with long hair and a wizened face arrived on the scene with a guitar and a bar stool. He sat down next to me and said, ‘Kid, let’s make some rock and roll.’ A lady from a stall selling wind chimes then shouted, ‘Feel the love, baby!’ The man shook my hand and said, ‘Peace out.’ I said ‘Peace out’ back to him. He slipped his cigarette under the strings at the end of his guitar, and asked the crowd if they were fans of Janis Joplin. A drunken farmer in khaki cheered and the strange guitar man played a song which I’d never heard before.

  Boggo looked flushed with excitement and told me that I’d made eighty-six bucks in just three songs! He then gave me a piece of paper which had been thrown into the hat. It read.

  I CAN MAKE YOU A STAR.

  ERROL (NOT MY REAL NAME)

  PHONE 3663171 (STRICTLY AFTER HOURS)

  Boggo said I shouldn’t get excited because he’s most probably a paedophile. Looks like Boggo has elected himself my singing manager!

  A fat man called De Wet (not sure if it’s his first name or surname) got up and announced that a record thirty-five entries had been received for the boerewors eating competition before announcing the competition rules.