"It's very odd how almost all English boys love danger; you can get ten to join a game, or climb a tree, or swim a stream, when there's a chance of breaking their limbs or getting drowned, for one who'll stay on level ground, or in his depth, or play quoits or bowls."Tom Brown’s Schooldays, Thomas Hughes
FOR SOME REASON I HAVE always imagined that “serious” male politicians had somewhat curious childhoods. I am not suggesting that I believe they suffered at the hands of their family and peers, at least not more than the average person does, but that they were in some way special. At dinner at school, they would be sitting on a separate table, reserved for the boys who “brought sandwiches”; they would still be playing with their Meccano sets long after other boys had developed an interest in sex, drugs and/or rock and/or roll; and even when they finally caught up, they would find a liking for totally obscure groups like Soft Machine.
WHILE MORE ADVENTUROUS boys were figuring out manners of making money through intelligent and inventive use of the Chemistry Lab, others, more literary- and artistic-minded chaps, like myself, were able by the age of fourteen to forge the signature of every teacher in the school.
BUT THE LONELY CHARACTERS WERE IN THE MAIN HARMLESS, with the worst they could do being to threaten to let someone’s tyres down; they would spend their time traipsing around after the smarter elements in the class, never fully understanding that their silly suggestions were being ignored and they were not being ridiculed openly because there existed a kind of code of honour among gentlemen.
MOST OF THEM NOW HAVE probably settled down to professions suiting them, such as managing a suburban pet shop or selling insurance door-to-door. It is a long time since I went to school with these people, but for some reason I was thinking of them earlier today, when listening to Gordon Brown and Peter “mushy peas” Mandelson describing the details of their trips to prepare the G20.
WHILE MORE ADVENTUROUS boys were figuring out manners of making money through intelligent and inventive use of the Chemistry Lab, others, more literary- and artistic-minded chaps, like myself, were able by the age of fourteen to forge the signature of every teacher in the school.
BUT THE LONELY CHARACTERS WERE IN THE MAIN HARMLESS, with the worst they could do being to threaten to let someone’s tyres down; they would spend their time traipsing around after the smarter elements in the class, never fully understanding that their silly suggestions were being ignored and they were not being ridiculed openly because there existed a kind of code of honour among gentlemen.
MOST OF THEM NOW HAVE probably settled down to professions suiting them, such as managing a suburban pet shop or selling insurance door-to-door. It is a long time since I went to school with these people, but for some reason I was thinking of them earlier today, when listening to Gordon Brown and Peter “mushy peas” Mandelson describing the details of their trips to prepare the G20.
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