A Grammar-School Boy Looks Back

But it went further than that, for after gym we all had to descend to the shower room where much against the inclination of many of us, we were forced to strip naked and take a shower. It seemed to be a fact that working class lads were very shy about exposing their all to their classmates; some lads even refused to strip naked in front of the others and stood there under the shower in their gym shorts. Quite frequently, Mr. Reeves would find fault with some boy or other whilst we were in the showers and would make him bend over dripping wet and naked and grasp his ankles; he would then give the unlucky lad half a dozen cuts with his strop across his naked backside. He was also very fond of referring boys for whom he felt his strap was an inadequate punishment to the Headmaster for caning. We all thought that this man was an utter sadist. But presumably he acted with the Headmaster's blessing and he certainly was a prime source of cannon fodder for the Headmaster's cane.

And so, as you have probably gathered by now, my first two junior years at school were punctuated by regular referrals to the Headmaster's study, where I got my arse thrashed on numerous occasions. But referrals by masters for various misdeeds and the Friday demerit calls were not the only means used by the Headmaster to keep up what we came to call, with apologies to cricket for the pun, his "beating average". As far as I was aware the Headmaster taught no class at all throughout my entire school career. But it soon became clear to anyone with half an eye, that the man was addicted to the regular use of the cane: it was like a drug to him; he was totally hooked on the use of the cane. So to ensure that he had an adequate flow of backsides to beat, he had adopted a number of truly underhand strategies to catch boys out breaking the rules when out of class; at least that is how we the victims saw it.

One of these was his "trawling" of the corridors, on a more or less regular basis throughout the school to see if any boy had been ejected from a lesson for some reason or another. This was quite a common method used by several masters, who simply turned any lad who did not toe the line out into the corridor and made him stand there before the classroom door until, the end of that lesson. And you may have already guessed that of the new boys in Form 1A, I was the first to be ejected for "rudeness".

I have already told you that Algy, the form master of 1A, a superficially agreeable character but actually a right bastard when it came down to it, taught mathematics. Well one day, it must have been about halfway through through my first term, he explained something which I think few of us really understood. He then asked us generally if everything was clear, to which I very foolishly said that I had not understood it at all. Algy looked at me witheringly and said in his most sarcastic voice: "The brains of the class: the dead ones." Of course my classmates all thought this was extremely funny, but I did not. Smarting with anger and totally without thinking I replied "What wit!" I think we were all surprised by Algy's reaction, for gone was any bonhomie which he liked to affect as he shouted at me: "You Robertson; get out of this class immediately boy."

As an eleven-year-old lad, there was, of course, nothing I could do but to obey him; a deathly hush fell over the class, all merriment now vanished, as I slowly made my way to the door. "Go on, boy, get a move on and get out of here immediately as I have still got a lot to get through before the end of the lesson." The fact that this incident occurred early on in the lesson and that I would now miss the major part of what the great man had to impart to us, did not seem to worry him at all; he just wanted me out of his sight. I have cited this particular incident from among many, where the extreme sarcasm of one or other of the masters often cut the recipient to the quick; it was typical of the bombastic and hectoring sarcastic manner that many teachers of that period behaved towards their pupils.

But to come back to the case in point, there I was fully exposed as an "ejectee" from the class and at the mercy of the Headmaster should he chance to find me there. And of course he did find me; hardly before I knew what was happening, I found myself once again in his study, kneeling on that bloody footstool, with my arse stuck in the air awaiting the Headmaster's ministrations with his cane. There was no inquest into why I had been ejected from the class; it was enough to be there in the corridor. So once again I was the recipient of six stinging cuts of Basher's cane. "Robertson, for a new boy you seem to becoming a regular visitor to my study. I think you need a warning that if things continue in the same way in the future and you cannot keep yourself out of trouble I shall find myself obliged to take a more serious view of your offences. So you have been warned young man."

I have already told you about the detention system. Two detentions led to a Saturday morning detention, when for three long and boring hours from nine till twelve the detainees were forced to sit in total silence at well spaced desks under the supervision of some master, who was as pleased to give up his Saturday morning as were the boys he was supervising. And two Saturday morning detentions ensured that you were on the Headmaster's Friday list of those boys he wished to "see" (for see, read thrash) at the extended mid-morning break. But it was the long boredom of the occasion which got to me. The "text for the day" was written out by the supervising master on the black board and we, the detainees were simply forced to spend three long and tedious hours, writing and rewriting out this stupid text. I can remember the text of my first Saturday morning detention as if it were yesterday. It read: "Steppe is Russian word denoting large tracts of treeless terrain covered with useful vegetation."

I think most of us would have preferred to have been given a thrashing rather than waste our time on this footling exercise. But worse actually happened to me on that first occasion. I got so fed up with writing out those stupid words that I just stopped writing. After a while Mr Baldwin, the master in charge that day, noticed that I seemed to be asleep at my desk, came over to me and saw that I had done practically nothing. His first reaction was to tell me that he would report my recalcitrance to the Headmaster. But then, by the greatest of bad luck who should walk into the room but Basher, the Headmaster, himself. What he was doing there on a Saturday morning, only heaven above knows. But he saw that Mr. Baldwin was berating me for my inactivity and immediately took the matter into his own hands: "Robertson, you are proving a very disobedient boy, Stand up boy when I am talking to you. Now kindly step out from your desk and follow me, boy."

One needed no imagination to see where we were going and what was going got happen next. Once in his study, that bloody footstool was again pulled into the centre of the room; I was told to take of my blazer and adopt what had now become the usual position for me and once again my arse took six resounding cracks of Basher's cane. But that was not all, for worse was to follow; the Headmaster decreed that I should attend detention again the following Saturday. The implication of this did not sink in immediately, but when it did, my heart fell to the bottom of my boots. The following Saturday would be my second Saturday morning detention and as sure as day follows night, I would again find myself on the dreaded Friday list of boys whom the Headmasters wished to see in his study during the morning break. So what had been a single Saturday morning detention had now, due to my own stupidity in ignoring the rules, had now escalated into two lost Saturday mornings and two sound and very painful beatings. I did not keep statistics, but it seemed to me that I was well on the way to becoming the most beaten boy of the year. I wondered if this was an achievement of which I should be proud: possibly not!

Two other sources were regular contributors to the steady flow of bottoms to beat to meet the Headmaster's seemingly insatiable desire to wield his cane: the school-cap rule and the one way- no running along the corridor rule. Each of these were pitfalls into which many boys regularly fell, as a result, of which they found themselves bent over in the Headmaster's study for a dose of corrective action from the cane.

The rule was strict: All boys of the school, from entry to the upper-sixth, were required to wear their school caps when off the school premises; and this included both Saturdays and Sundays if they were wearing the school uniform. If, by chance, they met a master whilst in town, then they had to lift their caps to him. It was quite amazing now many lads fell afoul of this rule and one way or another were caught not wearing their caps. One of the commonest places to be caught was in the morning entering the school grounds when the day master checked all the new arrivals to see that they were correctly attired. Many lads forgot their caps and found themselves faced with a painful visit to the Headmaster. There was never any relief or leniency of any kind: no cap and you were whacked by Basher.

But the regular source of cannon fodder for the Headmaster was the strict enforcement of the one way-no running rule in the school corridors and staircases. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. It was end of the day, one Wednesday afternoon and six of the lads from form 1A, me included, of course, decided to chance it and ran down the up-staircase directly adjacent to our form-room door. Well that day, Basher was waiting at the bottom of the stairs and we more or less ran directly not his arms. Basher glowered at us and said he would deal with us the following morning. None of us any illusion about how we would be "dealt with" as there was only ever one punishment: the cane. But none of us had any intimation of what the morrow would bring other than a sore bottom for each of us. Now quite unbeknown to any of us, Basher had already culled another group of lads from Form 1B earlier in the day, dashing along the corridor in front of his study. Running in the corridors was, you will recollect, strictly forbidden and like so many other things, was a beatable offence; but then, what offence was not a beatable offence at Bishop's.

The Thursday morning dawned and the entire school congregated in the gymnasium for the usual morning assembly. But a deathly hush fell over the entire assembly when the Headmaster entered and along with his usual sheaf of papers, deposited a long thin cane across his desk. You could feel the unease which went through the assembly as we saw the cane deposited on the front desk. We went through the usual procedure: sang the hymn, listened to the text for the day, said the prayer and listened to the Headmaster's announcements. He then dismissed everyone as usual but then came the sting in the tail: "However, all boys from forms 1A and 1B will kindly remain in the gymnasium." He then went on to lecture the two forms, some sixty boys in all, about the evils of running in the corridors and using the wrong staircase. As he told it, one might have thought that we had committed some capital crime for nothing, apparently could have been worse.

"I have therefore decided that it is time to make an example of the errant youths involved in this flagrant disregard for the rules of the school and the dangers to life and limb of others which their thoughtless behaviour threatens. Will all the boys whom I caught running in the corridor or rushing the wrong way down the stairs, please step forward. The rest of you please sit down on the floor in neat rows at the back of the gymnasium."

We now became aware of the fact that Mr Reeves, our sadistic sports master had appeared on the scene and was bringing in a chair, which he placed in the centre of the room in front of the dais. I quickly counted and saw that together we were a round dozen of lads from the two forms who were to be punished. But then came the totally unexpected shock.

"You twelve boys," intoned the Headmaster, "Will now take of your blazer and trousers and arrange yourselves in a singling line facing me in alphabetical order from left to right." As you might well imagine, getting ourselves in order was the least of our worries. Standing there in our shirts and underwear was a new and unpleasant experience for all. We had all heard that occasionally the Headmaster caned boys on their naked arses and this was sort of a halfway house. But all the underwear did was to protect our modesty somewhat, for with the thinness of the material, the cane might just as well have been applied to our naked bottoms. So there we stood whilst the Headmaster glowered at us with what I came to think of as his "Wrath of Basher Face."

"Right, now that you are all ready and in order, you boy, the first on the left, approach the chair and bend across its back; put your hands on the seat and remain absolutely still whilst I administer your punishment. You will receive six strokes of the cane as will each of you and when I have finished, you will each regain your position in the line where you will once again stand perfectly still with your hands on your head; I will not tolerate any boy rubbing his bottom until every last one of you has been caned. And, let me add, that I will not tolerate any histrionics or dramatics. Cry out if you wish if you cannot bear the pain; and make no mistake; it is going to be very painful for all of you. I intend to teach you all a lesson which, if you are wise, you will not wish to repeat."

"And your punishment will additionally serve as an example to your classmates, who, if they have the sense they were born with, which is something I sometimes doubt, will realise what will happen to them if they too flout the school rules. Rules, in case the fact had escaped you, are made to be obeyed and breaking them will lead to severely painful consequences for the boys concerned. Make no mistake, I will, have no compunction in thrashing the entire class if I deem it necessary. So the rest of you sitting there on the floor, take heed; you have been warned."

The whole assembly of forms 1A and 1B, including those of us who were shortly to be caned, were in that state of prurient anticipation which always pervades the atmosphere when boys are to see a classmate punished. And let us be clear that this was not the punishment of one single lad but the wholesale beating of twelve first formers. I guess that none of us had ever actually seen one of our classmates being caned until now. I know I certainly had not, although I was very familiar with the horror of a caning due to my own too frequent visit to the Headmaster's study. But participating visually in the act of seeing a group of twelve lads bend over, one after the other, for a severe whacking, was something very special. It is a fact that for most boys watching someone else receive corporal punishment, even a close friend, sends a shiver of erotically pleasurable excitement through the observer; and let me assure you that this erotic phenomenon exists right through the the entire school from to first form to the upper sixth; and to this has to be reconciled that when the punishment is over, the observers all feel nothing but sympathy for those whose beatings they have just witnessed, from which they derived a great deal of pleasure: such a contradiction!

But to get back to the matter in hand, the Headmaster finished berating us and turned his attention to the first backside which was awaiting his attention. During the entire time he had been speaking, the first supplicant, a poor lad called David Bottomley, had been left bent over the chair wondering if his thrashing was ever going to start. We for our part, the observers, included those of us who were waiting to be caned and the rest of the class sitting there as onlookers, were treated to a view of Bottomley's lightly clad buttocks. It was clear that the flimsy material of his underpants was going to provide little protection from the rigours of the cane and we all winced as the Headmaster brought down the cane with tremendous force across the equator of the lad's two globes; but Basher took absolutely no notice and pressed on, giving the lad five more forceful before telling him to get up. The boy was whacked in utter silence apart from the crack of the cane as it landed on the boy's backside and from the first stroke onwards, there was total silence from the assembled first formers.

"That's it lad; up you get and go and stand in line with your hands on your head; and don't touch your bottom until I tell you boy." He concluded. Then motioning with his cane to the second lad in the line, he called him across to assume the supine position over the chair. Martin Collins was the second of the group to be whacked and we could all see that he was trembling with fear as he approached the chair. He hesitated before bending over to present his backside to Basher for his tender loving care. "Come on boy, don't waste my time; I have got a lot to get through this morning in addition to you; so get across that chair and be quick about it."

By the time Basher had finished with Collins, the ten of us still waiting our turn in line were all quaking in our shoes at the thought of what we were about to undergo. As we were thrashed alphabetically by name, I saw nine other boys take a beating before my turn eventually came. Of all the boys being punished that day, I was probably the one who had been caned the most often by Basher; and I can tell you that the pain he managed to give me that day was way beyond anything I had ever experienced knelt on that bloody footstool in his study; this was the hiding of my life to date; my backside hurt like bloody hell and I can tell you that I did not like it at all.

Eventually by the time the twelve of us had all been thrashed, Basher had administered no less than seventy two strokes of the cane in all. We were then told to put our trousers back on and get back to our lessons, which we did and most of us were in tears, me included. Frankly I would have preferred to have sat through that day's lessons on my underpants for it as just such an excruciating painful process to get my trousers back on. The Headmaster had been determined to stamp out running in the corridors and using the staircases in the wrong direction and he had clearly succeeded, for after that I can remember of no occasion when a boy was caned for either offence for a good number of years.

And one other chillingly frightening prospect emerged from this mass beating; there was an unconfirmed rumour that Basher occasionally beat boys on their naked bottoms; well here he had made us take of our trousers and had beaten us with our underpants which certainly lent credence to this rumour. It was indeed a very disconcerting thought that one day any one of us might be required to present our naked backside to Basher for a caning; it made me sick just to think about it. But as you will shortly now learn it did turn out to be true; not only did I personally witness two lads take a naked arse beating from Basher but I also had the doubtful pleasure of submitting my own naked rump to him for his barbaric attention.

The mass caning of us twelve first-form boys was long talked about in the school. Looking back on the event some sixty years later, I doubt that the Headmaster would have been allowed to treat his charges in such a brutal manner had the school Governors known what was happening. But Mr. Basher Barton was a law unto himself and none of us ever complained about the way he treated us and so he got away with it. This incident occurred during my first term at the school, but several years later when, aged eighteen I left to go to university, Basher was still in charge and the cane was still hyperactive as ever. One reads about the liberal use of the cane in public schools in England, but I doubt that any school in the land had such a penchant for beating its pupils as had Bishop's under Basher Barton.