Читать книгу Surprisingly Down to Earth, and Very Funny - Limmy - Страница 11

Right, things have got a bit dark, with me talking about all these bad things. So let me lighten things up. Here’s a cheery one for you.

There was this boy in my class, called Barry. He was one of these pupils that just appeared in your class one day, a few years into primary school. And then, not long after that, he was gone. And I don’t know if it was something to do with me.

He appears, this new boy, and right away I didn’t like him. I think it was because of his face. He looked hard. There were a few boys in school like that, ones that would punch your jaw for next to nothing. I remember there was a boy called James White, who also appeared in my school for a short while before leaving. When he told me his name, I remembered a song to use for people with names that rhymed with white. I sang this:

James White

Did a shite

In the middle of the night

Saw a ghost

Eating toast

Halfway up the lamppost.

But I got as far as ‘James White, did a shite, in the middle …’, before he hooked my jaw. We were only seven or eight. He punched me in the fucking jaw. My face felt numb, like I’d been to the dentist.

Well, this Barry looked like one of them. He had a big square jaw, he was pale with freckles, and this straight-as-fuck fringe. My hair’s like that when I haven’t put any stuff in it to stick it up. When I see myself in the mirror like that, I’m reminded of this cunt.

Anyway, what happened was this.

One day, the class had come in from playtime or lunch, and it was a rainy day. A couple of lassies put their hands up to get the attention of the teacher. The teacher asked what it was, and they said, ‘Miss, Barry splashed us.’ They were talking about a puddle.

Right away, Barry was like that, ‘Miss, Miss, I didn’t. They’re lying, I didn’t!’

It was fucking obvious who was telling the truth.

The teacher went like that, ‘Barry, why would they lie?’ Then she got out some paper from her desk and gave him lines.

A day or so passed, and we had spare time in the class. Barry was sitting on his desk, near me, reading a magazine. It was a music magazine, like Look In. And he asked me, ‘What music do you like?’

That was difficult for me. A difficult question to answer.

You see, I wasn’t really into music, in a way. It’s hard to explain why. I liked music in general, I’d watch Top of the Pops and I’d like all that, but I don’t think I liked any bands or songs in particular. I’d like novelty songs, like ‘Shaddap You Face’, or singers with a strange look, like Toyah or Adam Ant, but I was more into how they looked than the songs. I didn’t know what most songs meant. A lot of songs were about love, and I didn’t really know what that was. Everybody else seemed to know. It was a bit like that feeling I had with the Bollywig. I felt a bit left out, I felt a bit embarrassed about love.

So when Barry asked me what music I liked, I felt exposed. I felt that if I just picked a song, I’d be caught out. If I picked a song with the word ‘love’ in it, I’d be laughed at, or asked to explain what love is, and who I loved. I didn’t actually go through that thought process, but you know what I mean, it was more of a gut feeling.

So I just said, ‘I don’t really like music.’

He said, ‘You don’t like music? How can you not like music? That’s stupid.’

Then he went back to his magazine.

I felt my cheeks go red. I felt humiliated, even though nobody else heard. I can’t remember what I did next, but I can imagine I looked down at my jotter, I looked down at my drawing or whatever, and just sat there, with my pencil on the paper, not moving. My pencil making a hole in the paper.

I hated him. I hated him and his pale skin and freckly face and big stupid jaw. Who did he think he was? Who was he? Who was he to come to my school, my class, this stranger, coming to my school and splashing lassies with puddles, and sit next to me and make me feel stupid? I hated him for saying that.

A day or so later, it was raining again. And we all came back in from lunch.

When the teacher arrived, I put my hand up.

The teacher said, ‘What is it, Brian?’

I said, ‘Miss, Barry splashed me.’

And then Barry, right on cue, said, ‘Miss, Miss, he’s lying, he’s lying.’

The teacher just went straight for her drawer to pull out some lined A4, and said what I hoped she would say. ‘Barry … why would he lie?’

Stitched up like a kipper.

A risky move, considering he looked like he could batter me, but that’s how angry I was.

And not long after that, he was gone.