Leg It (Part sixty)

“I don’t understand, if it’s not for the money, why did he do it?”

Marie was confused. The story hadn’t come as a complete surprise. She knew something had been troubling Elvis. He could never lie.

“Revenge I suppose. Davison had really got to us all. This way we got some sort of respect back.”

The crowds had now dwindled. Unlike school discos of old, everyone had families to get back to. The last smooch was the domain of the drunk and the foolish. There would be repercussions and recriminations but for one or two, it would be worth it.

“And you are sure it will work. This isn’t going to backfire is it?” Marie sounded worried.

“It will work, you can guarantee it. It’s like he’s been planning it from the day he left school. It will all be over now. All we need to do is sit back and wait. Tomorrow we’ll be free.”

“I hope so.”

“Trust me I’m a nerd.”

They both laughed as they headed out of the hall past the snogging couples. Elvis hoped he was right. He hung around in the entrance hall awaiting Pete’s return. He still needed to ask Pete one final question.


A grand plaque listing the high achievers from the school adorned the entrance hall wall. One lad had played football for England schoolboys and another couple had gone to Oxford. The last great achievement appeared to have been in 1973. I’m not sure whether standards had slipped since then or whether the school hadn’t bothered updating the board. Mr Burns’ face was bright red when I got there. Blood pressure was obviously getting the better of him.

“What do you call this?”

His scream took me by surprise as he threw my exercise book onto the table. My shock was reflected in my answer.

“A book?”

Mr Burns punched the wall just above my head, the plaster cracking and crumbling onto the floor. I’d never seen Burns this angry before, not even that time in Religious Studies.

“A book? I know it’s a bloody book! What do you call this?”

He opened the book to the middle pages where there was a drawing. I began to see why he was so upset. Spanning the two pages was a drawing of a giant penis, complete with hairy balls and semen seeping out of the end. I was struck dumb with the extent of Kevin Davison’s artistic abilities. Mr Burns dropped the book on the table and pinned me against the wall by my lapels. I glanced down at the picture in front of me. I don’t think the reaction would have been quite as strong had Kev not included a very good likeness of Mr Burns licking the cum from the end of the phallus.

My feet dangled from the floor as the blood boiled in his face. I was in trouble and this time it really was serious.


“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. It’s not exactly your fault that Claire has always loved you. It’s not as if you’ve been bombarding her with love letters over the years; you’ve hardly been encouraging her. I resent you for what you did but I don’t hate you.” Kev leaned back in his chair as if pondering his next move. “I was quite impressed with the way that you stitched me up all of those years ago. You wouldn’t get away with it again though.”

“Nice to hear it but you don’t get it do you?” I said.

“Get what?”

“Who do you think stitched you up this time? Who do you think broke up your little relationship with Elizabeth? Do you think anyone cares that much about you to go to the trouble of photographing you with your mistress and then blackmailing you with the photos.”

“I’ve got enemies. You tend to get a few in this business.”

“I suspect Ingham will be paying you a visit soon. You want to hope that the Police get here first.”

“What have the pigs got to do with it?”

Kev was getting more agitated, swigging from the near empty whisky bottle and fingering the gun.

“I heard they were very interested in your secret computer files. Quite surprised when they ended up on CID’s desk this morning”

“I don’t get it. What are you on about? What files?”

“The ones with your accounts and the ones of your rubber clad friends,” I said.

“How did they get hold of the files? What rubber clad friends?”

“A special present from Elvis.”

“That specky cunt, what’s he got to do with it?”

“Computer whiz-kid our Elvis. Master at tapping into computer systems would you believe? Surprised you didn’t know. You seem to take such a keen financial interest in his business.”

“You’ve lost me.” Kev leaned forward over his desk.

“You never were very bright were you?” Any pity I had for him had now faded. I was going to finish this once and for all.“You know Tim’s dead don’t you?”

“Who the fuck is Tim? I don’t know anybody called Tim.”

“He looked out for me and my mates when we were kids, used to drink in the whistle. Bloke with a camera? Now your little soldiers have killed him, burnt his house down.”

“They’ve done what? Why didn’t they ask permission? Why do they want to kill somebody like that? He isn’t a threat to us.”

“Wounded pride I suppose, it’s surprising what it does to people.”

“I’ll fucking kill them.”

“Too late, they’re already inside. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

Kev picked up the phone in the office and dialled 1471. It was a number he recognised well, Southwick Police Station.

“Looks like your little empire’s falling apart.”

I turned and headed for the door.

The noise from the blast took me by surprise. It was the first time I had heard a gun fired.


There was no way I could have explained that the drawing was not done by myself but by Kevin Davison. He would have killed me. I was sat in the headmaster’s office alongside my mother. Mr Gutteridge, Mr Burns and Mr Hunter, a representative from the Education Authority, sat on the opposite side of the desk.

“I’m sorry your husband didn’t see fit to come, Mrs Wood.”

“He’s working but I can assure you that he takes the matter as seriously as I do.” She looked disappointedly at me.

“I sincerely hope so, Mrs Wood. This is a very serious matter.”

“Can we get on with this?” Mr Burns was getting impatient. “I want him out of here as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I think we can begin now,”  said Mr Hunter.

Whilst he was sitting down, he still towered above everybody else in the room. He had a tuft of hair above each ear but was otherwise bald. His thick-rimmed spectacles partially hid his long pointed nose.

“I don’t think there’s anything to discuss,” Mr Burns started proceedings, “he should be expelled. This is a good Catholic School.”

“Now hold on,” interjected my mother.

“I’ve got to say I agree,” added Mr Gutteridge. “He’s a disgrace to the school. We should be making an example of him.”

“Can I just say something here?” The gentleman from the authority stood up, using his height to good effect. “Now as a headmaster you should be well aware that you can’t expel a child of Pete’s age. He is coming up to his O’ Levels and you have a responsibility to teach him. Whilst you may want to make an example of him, I am here to ensure that you fulfil your obligations to the Education Authority, your obligation to the parents and, most important of all, your obligation to the pupils.”

Mr Gutteridge had been put in his place and was scarlet.

“That’s ridiculous.” Mr Burns tried to argue but was silenced by an angry stare.

I was beginning to enjoy myself but was brought back down to earth when I learnt the severity of the punishment.

“As you may be aware Mrs Wood, this isn’t the first time that your son has shown complete disrespect for this school. You may remember the incident in Religious Studies recently.”

He had a point. I was very nearly expelled then however escaped due to the same rules that were keeping me here today.

“What we propose is that instead of expelling Peter, we exclude him from lessons.”

“What will that entail?” asked my mother.

“He will not be allowed in any lessons, instead he will be taught separately in a venue yet to be decided. He will have no contact with any pupils or teachers from the school unless specified by myself. Some of the teachers are quite upset at his presence here.”

“Too bloody right.”

“Mr Burns,” Gutteridge raised his voice. “I trust this is ok with you?” He said turning to Mr Hunter.

He nodded his approval.

“Mrs Wood?”

“As long as he still gets his education.”

“We’ll do the best we can in the circumstances.”

The meeting was over


Another installment of Leg It by Alan Parkinson to follow same time next week.

If this has whetted your appetitie and you would like to buy the book for a bargain £1.99 on Kindle please click here.

It is also available in paperback and on iBooks.

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