Flicking through the TV channels, bored. Sport, soaps, property, sport, music, property, soaps. And then the screen that showed a school gymnasium. No pupils. Just, set out evenly around the room, three vaulting horses and three trestle-like beams.
It would be set like this every Friday night – it’d be one of the tasks for the students serving a detention after school that evening. They’d work in silence, some knowing from personal experience how the room would be used the following morning, others giving thanks that their teacher had given them a mere detention and not the dreaded Saturday detention.
For the Saturday detention girls would end their morning in here. They’d have worked for several hours in PE kit, cleaning and tidying the school; painting, mowing, polishing. Knowing that the gym awaited. Being led there at the stroke of midday.
They’d line up at the side of the room, backs to the wall. Names would be read out; the girls concerned would step forward. On command, they would remove their skirts and knickers, and take up position. The vaulting horses would each take two girls, one over either side, to be tawsed. The beams would be reserved for any girl who’d misbehaved (oh-so-foolishly) during the Detention; they’d be tied in place for a hard caning.
Once every position was taken, the Headmaster and his Deputy would walk around the room, administering the requisite strokes. And once each of the girls had been punished, they would be sent to stand in line once more, to rub their bottoms and avert their eyes whilst the next miscreants took their place.
Nice
Hate to be the one to point it out, but you might want to go back and proof read the second paragraph. Oh why, lie, I take great joy in pointing it out!
Bugger. Too many commas in my comment. Serves me right for being smug.
Muahahahaha… Abel can’t spell…
I’m on Abel’s side on this one. Surely you bright young things can think of better excuses for hassling him than a typo here or there!
Muahahahaha… Abel is old…
Happy now, Indy?
Aw poor Able, can’t spell AND he’s old. Tragic really. As to the vaulting horse, since I was fifteen and really started thinking about this, I’ve never been able to look at one the same way.
Really, Smudge, you can do better than that! If you would go to your lectures instead of missing so many, you would have plenty of time with nothing better to do than to dream up creative insults.
But what about the dream girls? By the way I am older than Abel and so I can be fairly sure that I dreamt it first, almost down to the last detail. It’s a very hot dream though so I don’t mind sharing it with the young Abel! (figuratively speaking, of course)
That’ll teach me to write blog entries on my Blackberry, which doesn’t have a spell check, during meetings!!!
Typo and formatting errors duly corrected!