Open Writing

'Whatever next? I'll show you whatever next,' said Mr Budgen, standing up. 'This is whatever next' - and he poured beer over the bald head of Jeff Hanley.

'Now, now, Mr Budgen,' we all tut-tutted, 'there is no need for that.'

'You mean there was no need for that,' said Mr Budgen, sitting down again. 'Get the tense right, can't you? How many years did I spend trying to drum the basics of English grammar into your thick skulls?'

'Too many,' we all said, as we usually did on these occasions.

Mr Budgen peered at Jeff. 'Sorry, Hanley,' he said gruffly.

He still called us by our surnames, even after all these years, and we wouldn't have it any other way. Nor would he.

'No offence taken, Mr Budgen,' said Jeff, wiping his face and head.

'Well, now,' said Mr Budgen, 'as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, the old school has gone to the dogs

I must explain that the incident with the beer stemmed from the first time Mr Budgen had said 'gone to the dogs' a few minutes earlier and Jeff had cried 'cliche, cliche', just as Mr Budgen used to do in the classroom.

Jeff had then said 'whatever next?' which had so riled Mr Budgen that.. . well, you know what happened.

*

I met Jeff in the street next day as he was going to his office (he was a solicitor) and asked him how he'd really felt about the incident.

'I wasn't upset in the pub,' he said, 'but when I got home I was bloody furious, thinking how dare the old fart treat me as if I was still in the fourth form.'

'But isn't that why we go each time?' I said. 'Not to have beer poured over us, admittedly, but to pretend that we're back in the fourth?'

Jeff twitched. 'For god's sake,' he snapped, 'we're all over 40 now. Isn't it about time we grew up?'

Still, he was there, as usual, the following year.