Dad instructed Ronald and Willy to carry the boxes containing tins of Bisto into the living room next to the Bully Beef and pile of seventy eights. “Wot’s the matta son, you look flustered,” said dad.
Tears welled up as I blurted, stuttered and hyperventilated my tales of horror at the hands of my sadistic teacher showing him the small cut on the back of my head.
Dad said nothing as he swigged his beer. Not even a response as he turned and walked into the house.
More tears welled up as I thought he was either drunk again or worse he just did not care. He picked up a pile of gramophone records and inspected the label.
“Wot the fuckin’ ‘ell are these?” said dad to his mates, “And who the bleedin ‘ell is Earl Hines and his orchestra when ‘e‘s …show more content…
WHACK FIVE.
His big hand smacked through the cut on the back of my head. More tears flowed as the small open wound throbbed as he dragged me through the streets.
He angrily slammed the school door open and stormed down the corridors peeping through each glass door into the classrooms. He did not even bother to ask where my teacher took class determined to seek out the ‘sadistic bastard.’
Dad eventually found him leaving and blocked his path by protruding out his chest forcing Mr Shield to bounce backwards into his classroom.
I was surprised how in an instance my dad could turn from pent up rage to unassuming calmness gently enquiring why his son had to endure indiscriminate punishment. He was also a great actor! Dad listened intently to my teacher’s finger jabbing arrogance and flippancy on why he should have to justify to a parent on the virtues of strict discipline to such a wayward child.
“Don’t point yer finga at me cos I ain’t one of yer kids,” said dad as I watched him slowly becoming angry again.
Mister Shield just carried on ranting, raving and poking. “Your son ludicrously claimed to have met a certain Mr …show more content…
You East Enders are all the same.”
“Yeh,” shouted dad, “we fuckin hit people.”
Mr Shield did not have time to blink as dad’s lightening right hook floored him to the ground quicker than dropped pie and mash. My teacher was clearly stunned holding his face in cupped hands trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from his nose. Seconds later, his body slid effortlessly across the floor with his tie in the firm grip of my dad’s hand. Mr Shield was repeatedly dragged around the classroom Choking, desperately fighting for his life as he tried to grapple with the noose around his throat.
“Dad,” I laughed nervously, “You’re killing him.” Realising that he had perhaps overstepped the mark in meting out justice, dad loosened his grip. He bent over putting his face up to Mr Shields and yelled, “Ya ever lay a finger on my boy again, I promise ya next time I will fuckin kill yer. Ya got that?”
Then dad reigned punch after punch into my cowering teachers face and head before standing up calmly brushing himself
Tears welled up as I blurted, stuttered and hyperventilated my tales of horror at the hands of my sadistic teacher showing him the small cut on the back of my head.
Dad said nothing as he swigged his beer. Not even a response as he turned and walked into the house.
More tears welled up as I thought he was either drunk again or worse he just did not care. He picked up a pile of gramophone records and inspected the label.
“Wot the fuckin’ ‘ell are these?” said dad to his mates, “And who the bleedin ‘ell is Earl Hines and his orchestra when ‘e‘s …show more content…
WHACK FIVE.
His big hand smacked through the cut on the back of my head. More tears flowed as the small open wound throbbed as he dragged me through the streets.
He angrily slammed the school door open and stormed down the corridors peeping through each glass door into the classrooms. He did not even bother to ask where my teacher took class determined to seek out the ‘sadistic bastard.’
Dad eventually found him leaving and blocked his path by protruding out his chest forcing Mr Shield to bounce backwards into his classroom.
I was surprised how in an instance my dad could turn from pent up rage to unassuming calmness gently enquiring why his son had to endure indiscriminate punishment. He was also a great actor! Dad listened intently to my teacher’s finger jabbing arrogance and flippancy on why he should have to justify to a parent on the virtues of strict discipline to such a wayward child.
“Don’t point yer finga at me cos I ain’t one of yer kids,” said dad as I watched him slowly becoming angry again.
Mister Shield just carried on ranting, raving and poking. “Your son ludicrously claimed to have met a certain Mr …show more content…
You East Enders are all the same.”
“Yeh,” shouted dad, “we fuckin hit people.”
Mr Shield did not have time to blink as dad’s lightening right hook floored him to the ground quicker than dropped pie and mash. My teacher was clearly stunned holding his face in cupped hands trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from his nose. Seconds later, his body slid effortlessly across the floor with his tie in the firm grip of my dad’s hand. Mr Shield was repeatedly dragged around the classroom Choking, desperately fighting for his life as he tried to grapple with the noose around his throat.
“Dad,” I laughed nervously, “You’re killing him.” Realising that he had perhaps overstepped the mark in meting out justice, dad loosened his grip. He bent over putting his face up to Mr Shields and yelled, “Ya ever lay a finger on my boy again, I promise ya next time I will fuckin kill yer. Ya got that?”
Then dad reigned punch after punch into my cowering teachers face and head before standing up calmly brushing himself