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After a goodly dose of Madams strap my backside, inner self, outer self and me in particular, promised each member of this unlikely contingent never to feel another dose ever again - unles of course, the stakes were well worthy of a second encounter and an extremely sore bottom and something that might suggest either blowing a hole in the side of Fort Knox, or more rewarding still, blowing the lock on the sweet cupboard located in the kitchen - so the game was on...

The lock in question was a rather feeble and exceedingly cheap shot at keeping potential sweet burglers at bay and soon succumbed to a swift swipe of a hob nailed boot and no sooner had it done so, the grat sweet hiest of the 20th century was afoot as I filled my pockets with boiled sweets and chocolate bars of high melting potential when placed in a washed out boot polish tin and left on the common room radiator for an hour or so - why? well I suppose if chocolate had been sold in rounds, we'd have been melting it down in match boxes - a KH boy was never noted for his satisfaction to accept things as either God, nature and especially my Uncle Reg intended and most certainly not square chocolate!

However - after gorging my self to the point that if I fell over on my back I would remain there like a beached whale until some one disovered me where that someone of course, and in all probability would have been Miss Pecker Brownhill, her strap and some kind of most disagreeable plan of what she intended to do with said strap! - I then needed to hide the evidence, 1 million, five hundred and forty nine boiled sweet wrappers - but where?! - too late!! as we were all hustled into the common room where if the boy responsible owned up, he would be dealt with leniently which in agreement with a schoolboys vivid imagination, translated into being hung drawn and quatered but on aspirins!

ARGH!!!! exlaimed I in deafening silence, the wrappers!!!! but a quick mind defeated what wouldn't have been not such a quick strapping as I interrupted Pecker's deal of leniency with "Excuse me Miss,but I'm gonna wet my self if you don't let me outta here quick!" - where no sooner was permission granted, I transfered the wrappers from my pockets into Miss Brownill's own overcoat that hung up just inside the doorway!

And that night I slept peacfully as I dreamt of a self inflicted strapping accompanied by great yelps of pain and despair coming out of Pecker Brownhills own room in satisfying and audible quantity just up the hall!!!!!

Or maybe, it wasn't a dream after all....

Dizzy D

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