The author is an extrovert, eccentric, charismatic and flamboyant

individual who relishes world travel, sport, socialising, listening to an

eclectic variety of music. He has an incredible zest for life. Writing is
an invaluable forum, enabling him to exhibit his personality.

Dedications
My girlfriend Kiki, who initially motivated and inspired me. Without
her influence this would not have been possible. My adorable late
father Sinclair, for giving me powers of articulacy, expression,
individuality and self belief. My beloved mum Cheryl for her wisdom,
compassion and understanding, sister Maria, angelic and precious
daughter Adriana, nana Joan, late grandparents Michael, Emile and
Audrey! Without forgetting my important special friends Mike CMan, Ashilito, Fluffy Donkey, Rocca Fella, Fro Boy Wez, Nasty
Nick, Mushtafa and The Nodster Jonny Boy.

Copyright Julian Wilkes

The right of Julian Wilkes to be identified as author of this work has
been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this
publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for
damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British
Library.

ISBN 978 184963 908 8

www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2015)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd.
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LB

Printed and bound in Great Britain

4

Chapter 1
Daily Delight
The Heat on the street It was fastly approaching sunrise. Steam dispersed
from bathroom extraction fans, and the clink, clank, jingle, jangle of the bottles
being placed in outside front door holders by the milk man, as he hummed and
sang. The energising, fresh and nose tingling scent of freshly cut grass on the
mounds outside garden walls and gates, curtains being opened by people ready
to start their early morning wake up routine as the hot sunshine beamed down on
the dry stationery car packed boulevard streets. As the light summer breeze
gently blew the finely refined statuesque rows of solid oak trees, there was
suddenly a bang. It was only Felix engaging in yet another cat fight with the
local terrorising enemy, the proud, arrogant and antagonising Petra, the elegant
Persian neighbouring pedigree. She hissed angrily at Felix. Ssssssssssssssss,
miaaoooooooow, as shed audaciously entered foreign soil, a hint to say, Im the
Lady of the Manor around here! Felix hissed back, let out a huge moan and
strategically and meticulously paced towards Petra. This being his masculine
demonstration that no cat, dog, hedgehog or human, without consent was gonna
dare trespass on his territory at 33 Mysterious Street in Honeyville! The bang
was the sound of Petra clumsily knocking off the unevenly fitted aluminium
rugged old bin lid as she propelled herself in a not so swift and elegant
manoevre, attempting to dive onto Felix. This noise awoke Jammin Boy.
Lord boy, what a gwaan down dere? Dem freakin cats again. I tell Felix
time n time again, leave dat pussy alone, becauuuse, shes damn trouble, like
most o dem women. She reels im in, hisses n den spits im out! Better get a move
on, dont wanna be late for di second day runnin! Jammin Boy bleated out in
his exotic Caribbean hypnotising lilt.
He pulled the quilt off him, stretched like a wild tiger waking up in the
jungle and roared out,
Yeah man, lets go get em, di day is dere for di takin! He said, smiling
infectiously and feeling oh so proud of himself.
Meanwhile, Felix had bizarrely and miraculously began to cajole Petra after
their weekly engaging fight. It was all part of their love hate relationship. So
laughable, considering, theyd regularly be hissing, yelling and howling at each
other as if detest, resentment and disgust were teetering on the brink of their cat
lips. Amazingly they began to frolic around on the dry uneven small pebbled
front of house area, licking each other, nibbling, biting and wrestling as if they
were competing in a televised Sky WWF tournament.
Jammin Boy was enjoying a warm jet spray shower, lathering his
athletically toned body with Mango Foamburst, while singing, Buffalo Soldier,
5

in the heart of America, stolen from Africa, to the heart of the Caribbean. Im
livin di life of an afro don, enjoyin every damn day, especially even more,
when di Mr Yellow Man shines down so brightly Oooooooo I love to feel
di heat o dat sunshine ray!
As usual he wore his swimming cap to protect his large mass of afro hair
from the water spray, as it wasnt due a wash, shampoo, condition and blow dry
until the weekend. He loofered the hard to reach areas of his back, scrubbed his
neck as if hed been duped and pranked by someone throwing itching powder
down his t-shirt. This was his ceremonious cleansing ritual.
Right bwoy, me betta get a move on, otherwise John (Head of Year) wont
be too appy bout me strollin in late again. Come on, step on it, its time to roll.
He turned off the shower, removed his cap, opened the shower door, picked up
his warm fluffy turquoise towel and began to pat himself dry. Bbbbbbbrrrrrr
Bbbbbrrrrrrrr OK, Im gonna turn you off, he said, chatting to his iPhone
alarm clock.
It was now approaching 7.30 am and Jammin Boy had to be at work for
8.30 at the local High School, Oatmill. After drying himself and checking his
striking appearance in the mirror, he picked up his electric toothbrush, clipped
the cap of the Arm and Hammer toothpaste and placed the usual pea sized
amount on to his brush. The vibration started, the epitome of a ladies pleasurable
Rampant Rabbit, fast circular motions of the brush head, frantically cleaning the
molars, incisors, pre-molars and yes of course, Jammin Boys wisdom. The
pristine white teeth, of this well educated, articulate young twenty nine year old
man from St. Christopher, known commonly as St. Kitts. A tiny, beautiful,
luscious green and mountainous island a few hundred miles from the coast of
Antigua in the heart of the Caribbean.
JB finished brushing his teeth and self grooming, smearing cocoa butter on
his exotic milk chocolate radiant skin, ensuring he massaged his dry elephant
elbow and knee skin, hollering out, Give me some skin brudder and turn dese
big mammal skin creases to silk. He let out a huge cry of laughter. He realised
it was time to move faster than a hare and delve into his extensive sartorially
elegant wardrobe to don a suit exuding panache and immeasurable couture.
Boy, its Tursday mornin No man, am I crazy or what? Its Friday mornin, I
tink todays definitely a sharp dark blue suit day. Fix up look sharp. Yeah man,
dats di one Im wearin. Bumper claaart. Now.... he let out a huge sigh. Which
tie do I go for? Di shockin pink, di ivory white, di deep blue or dat sterlin
silver sleek number? So many decisions man! Right, dats it, forget all dis crazy
assed self fightin, its da silver one, Yeah man!
On went a fresh scented newly washed pair of white CKs, a figure hugging
vest top that accentuated his athletically honed and sculptured muscular
contours. A simple pair of plain black cotton socks. One of his many white
shirts, finished off with diamond cuff links, the silver tie, elegantly secured
Windsor style, his favourite heir loom passed down by his late father, Sugar! He
pulled out a belt from his never ending belt rack, a very chic brown snake skin,
sprayed a few projectile pulses of eau de toilette, his adorable favourite Issey
Mayake, checked his afro in the bedroom mirror, smiled contently and then

made his way downstairs. He put on his sharp and smooth brown slip ons and
unlocked the door before opening it.
Feeeeelix, Feeeeelix! Lord, dere you are. Sort ya tail out and relax cat. You
been fightin again wi dat Persian Princess?!
Miaaooooow. Felix let out a happy as larry miaow, appearing ultra pleased
with his morning antics. Lord, better dish you out some Whiskas n biscuits, wid
a lil agua. You can stay in now till I return ome from work. Behave yaself, and
dont start scalin dem curtains, ya not on a Gulf Tour o Duty.
He picked up his man sack, a very cool rucksack, bought for him by his
mum for Christmas 2009. He threw it over his shoulder and quickly set the
burglar alarm. Then he dashed out of the door, closing it behind him, then
locking it.

Chapter 2
School Bus Ride Journey
He skipped from the front door step, jogging to the front gate, blown open by
the wind in the night. He made his way to the bus stop for the number seven.
Like clockwork, it arrived right on time. Ride on Time, Because ya ride on
time! He sang a verse of one of his favourite 80s songs by Black Box.
Other passengers at the bus stop smiled, chuckled. Some gazed in
amazement, some in dismay. One lady bleated, I wish my husband rode on
time!
Jammin Boy replied, Feed im ginger, salmon, dress up n role play, den
youll see a difference. Di man needs foods dem good, to stimulate his wood!
This led to cries of uncontrollable laughter as the passengers climbed on to
the bus. Jammin Boy showed his Metro Card and walked with a sophisticated
gait to the back right hand seat, where he always preferred to sit. He plugged his
iPhone speakers into his ears and selected his favourite compilation of RnB big
hits. As usual, he swung from side to side, clicking his fingers every now and
again and smacking his thighs in time to the music as if he was playing the
drums. Fifty Cents track Just a lil Bit boomed out of the speakers. Realising it
was a little loud, as usual he proceeded to turn it down a few notches, smiling as
he did this.
The journey as usual was a pleasant one, taking roughly thirty five minutes
for the seven mile journey, before stopping close to Oatmill High. Jammin Boy
was a little tired this morning after a late-ish night, getting to bed around 1am,
the result of watching Hangover. As he drifted in and out of consciousness on
the sofa, he had to rewind the DVD on several occasions, hence rolling into bed
post Cinderella time. He rubbed his hands on the bus and thought in his head,
Dis is warm boy, di energy o di engine sends goodness to mi bones n skin. I
feel like a hot water bottle widowt di top!
He saw C Man getting on the bus. Yes C Man, what appenin brudder?
Yes, yes, JB, Im all good thanks. Just gettin ready to start plainin mi
wood. Ive just got a six month contract at your school, doin the joinery work.
Respect, Im delighted for ya, after all di adversity youve been tru
recently, wi di recession, its di least you deserve Yeah man, if I ad a drink Id
toast ya. I dont mean tro you under di grill, till ya crispy bred Ha Haaaaaa!
Replied JB with vigour in his voice.
I dont know how you can tolerate sittin here at the back of the bus, its
boilin! retorted C Man.
When it gets cold, it warm up mi body from ead to toe, n gives a lil extra
curl to mi gigantic fro.
Meeeeean Yeah, youve got a point JB, responded C Man.They caught
up on the bus, rather inadvertently, as they hadnt spoken or seen each other for
8

months, due to different circles of friends and hectic lifestyles. Jammin Boy
was overjoyed at seeing C Man and the feeling was mutual, as theyd been good
friends for well over twenty five years. They laughed and joked as if they were
doing a double act live on stage at the London Apollo Theatre or the more
intimate 99 Club in Londons Leicester Square.
The bus was full of school kids, white collar workers, unemployed travelling
to get their giro cheques, college and university Students and a wide plethora of
other workers. Eventually after the standard thirty five minute journey the
number seven pulled up about half a mile from the school, where Jammin Boy,
C Man and other school pupils hopped off, ready to walk to their educational
haven. The heavens began to open and down came a mini torrential downpour.
No man, blast dat. C Man, you got a brolly to tro up, otherwise wi gonna be
soakin wet?
Yes, dont worry, you know me, like the Last Boy Scout, always prepared!
Jammin Boy started to sing in his sweet voice, Its rainin men, halleluyah,
its rainin women everywhere An were not gonna get absolutely soakin
weeeeeeeet. He chuckled and grinned as he sang and improvised his own lyrics.
It was so funny, because they looked like a loving couple, C Man holding
the umbrella with Jammin Boy walking close by his side trying to avoid the
splish n splash from the ever increasing puddles, a result of the water deluge
from this passing storm.
DamnMi suit trouser legs lettin in water, mind dem puddles, Mike.
Mike was C Mans real name. I dont wanna be sittin on di radiator all day
teachin di kids dem, quivered JB.
Thats why you should always expect the unexpected and like me, prepare
for every eventuality, C Man pulled out the sun block and wide rimmed cricket
hat he had bought during his year out Down Under in didgeridoo land, Australia.
Gidday Mate, gi ding, gi donga, how ya doin blue? C Man said,
impersonating Aussie dialect.
Ha Haaaaaaa. You always know ow to make light of any situation, touch
mi brudder aye, replied JB, laughing and touching knuckles with Mike.
This being a mark of respect, brotherhood, love and harmony the pair
regularly displayed. They reached the school gates and parted company, Laters
Mike, see ya real soon, prob tomorrow morn at same time!
Yeah, I hope so, have a great day and stay dry. In fact Jammin, unlikely,
because todays Friday, said Mike, sniggering to JB.
True dat. Soon I ope den. Ill be warm like a sizzlin steak in dem
classrooms. You protect ya wood, n dont be droppin any tools on it. You have
to treasure it n keep it strong! shouted JB.

Chapter 3
School Daze
It was Friday morning which excited JB, as he was ready to celebrate a friends
30th birthday bash tomorrrow. JB only had four lessons of English to teach to
Year Ten pupils, aged fourteen to fifteen, which would take him up to
lunchtime, giving him a lesson free afternoon. This made it his favourite day of
the week. He gracefully strolled in through the school main entrance, greeting
fellow teachers as he made his way to the staff room. Just enough time for a
quick herbal tea before class starts, he thought. Mornin Jennifer, mornin
Jasper, mornin Bethany, mornin Tom, mornin Jamie, in fact mornin all
would o been simpler, but den again, dat just aint me, peeps, he laughed.
Are you ready for the party weekend, JB? said Bethany.
Damn right, its gonna be one hell of a fiesta n were gonna celebrate in
traditional 30th year style! Tom, has everything been sorted out, bar hire,
festivities, food?
Were ready to roll, just waitin for a few guys to get back to me,
confirming that theyre hookin up, replied Tom.
Most importantly, di ones dat confirm dare presence are di most important
ones, di rest o dem who dont confirm or make false promises, kick em into
touch like Kevin Sinfield kickin a 40/20 fa di Leeds Rhinos.
The kettle boiled, while JB placed his camomile and spearmint tea bag and
freshly sliced ginger into his big white mug with Cool Man artistically written
on the side under a smiling Rasta Man. Would anyone else like a pot o tea?
Everyone agreed, with Bethany saying, Ooooooo, JB, how can anyone
decline the temptation of one of your trademark aromatic herbal teas, theyre
legendary.
You know dat, he responded with aplomb.
He poured the hot water into each cup followed by a teaspoon full of honey.
No honey for me thanks Jammin, as you know Im as sweet as cotton
candy, responded Jennifer.
I wouldnt know, coz Ive never tasted ya, answered JB. He thought,
uuuuuum What a pleasure that would be!
He knew that Jennifer had been single for a few months now and was
looking for a bit of companionship. She was a statuesque, shapely and strikingly
attractive brunette with long flowing hair. Her olive complexion hinted at Latina
heritage. Right den, you never know Jen, one day I may be lucky. Have a great
mornin all, see you at lunch, he said with a chuckle.
Ding-a-ling-a-ling, Ding-a-ling-a-ling sounded the school bell, indicating it
was half past eight and time for register and the first lesson of the day. He
picked up his tea and rucksack and walked down the corridor to classroom six.

10

When he opened the door, it creaked, reminiscent of a haunted house floor board
in Halloween the movie.
Sir, ya need to drink some more milk to provide calcium for ya bones, that
aint healthy! bellowed Ama Retto.
Ha Haaaaaa. Dats quite sharp for you. Why dont ya do me a jungle size
favour n buy mi some? Ill make sure you pass dis mock exam. Favour for a
favour, joked JB.
Oooooooooooh Are you tryin to bribe me Sir?
Just teasin ya, but if you continue to write poetry n stories like you have
recently, youll fly tru it like Mary Poppins! replied JB.
He started to sing, Just a spoonful of glucosamine helps di bones dem not
frown! Instead of a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. JB as usual
improvised his own lyrics, entertaining his captive audience in classroom six.
BAAAAAAANG!!
Geeeeeez, Lord! shrieked JB, as a deafening roll of thunder reverberated
round the sky.
Haaaaaaaaa Haaaaaaaaa Haaaaaaaaaa Haaaaaa! A crescendo of laughter
injected the room with immense warmth and energy, as the class were high
fiving each other, knuckle touching and giggling uncontrollably as Sir (JB)
almost fell off his chair at the front of the class. Lets settle down now n get
ready for the day ahead, its TGIF Its time for that daily ritual, the register
Jonny Basnett!
Here.
Rebecca Button.
Here.
Jessica Stropsville.
Here.
Alessandro Romeo.
Here.
Aspen Colorado.
Here.
Sally Worsnop.
Here.
Jameel Taylor.
Sir.
Frankie Arpegio.
Sir.
Peaches Longley.
Here.
Leonardo Caprio.
Here.
Jemima Saltfish.
Sir.
Jack Fulton. Followed by the customary shriek of laughter. Touch me,
touch me OUCH Ya ice cold Jackie bwoy, chuckled JB.
Yes Sir. But today Im scorchin, as mi Mum turned the freezer off. Shes
defrostin it! laughed Jack.
11

You should be a stand up Jack! blurted out Peaches.

Yeah ya right, I prefer to be sat down though! responded Jack.
Followed by giggles from around the classroom. Order, Order Court is
about to start! JB banged on the desk to restore control and sensibility in the
classroom.
After all that mornin hilarity, were gonna continue wi di stories about our
most memorable experiences. I will speak in my proper English heritage tongue,
not the one that my Mother taught me in the Caribbean. I do sincerely hope that
this concisely spoken language is perfect for you all! Come on then, lets get to
work, less chat and more cultured creativity. Liberate your minds, write with
fluency and imagination, match and enjoy seeing what the ball point pen finds.
JB spoke in his exaggerated improvised English dialect.
Come on then, chop chop chop, lets produce the satirical magic! He
smiled to himself. He enjoyed inspiring his faithful English class troops, as if
they were about to go into battle with the enemy. Writing combat a pure
educational pleasure, armoury in mind entwined with a fully loaded weapon, the
pen about to explode with clinical potency, as endless thoughts crossed
frantically through every childs grey matter. Take Aim and Click, Pull
and Fire The ammunition was now in full flow. It was the epitome of an
army strategically, meticulously and cunningly plotting their attack in a
synchronised, slick and calculated manner. Fingers placed on lips, hair being
swished from side to side, scratching of faces, contortions, grimaces, transfixed
stares of displaying deep concentration, table tapping, pen shaking, arm
stretching, torrential downpour outside World gazing, what a wondrous
collaboration, enchantment, enterprise, great splendour, How amazing! Jammin
Boy had a chance now to contemplate his wardrobe for tomorrow evenings
30th birthday party for Tom. He started conjuring up various combinations from
his extensive collection. Hhhhhhhhmmmmm, he thought. Shall I go for a
pristine, distinguished, sleek n chic virginal white n emulate Richard Gere in
Officer and a Gentleman, or cultured, couture n mysterious black? So many
decisions, but thankfully so much precious time. Whistle n Flute or smart casual
fused with a cravat, vest n ankle cut boot? Oooooooo I could do with a makeover, he surmised. Gok Wan, come n find me, transform me, revitalise me, where
are you when I need you, supplyin me wi the essential garment shabang.
Sir, How dya spell rhythmical? asked Peaches.
R H Y T H M I C A L! said JB.
Thanks.
JBs mind started to wander, as the sensuous, harmonious prospect of dirty
dancing proportions titillated his pre weekend excitable mind.
Hhhhhmmmmmmmm Jennifer dancing with elegance n grace, what a
prospect!! He also needed to buy a gift for Tom and sort these clothes out. He
smiled and had the James Brown classic, Get Up Off That Thing, circling
round beneath the dense head of softly textured bouncy hair mayonnaise scented
fro, but not the edible salad type.
There may be trouble ahead, lets face the music and dance., get up off that
thing JB hummed to himself, a collaboration of various tracks from many

12

genres. Would anyone care for any assistance, or are we all fine, refine and
dandy writing troops?
Yeah, OK, cool as a cucumber, running tings, rolling, swingin in lyrical
time, bossing it, Came back a crescendo of responses, in other words a pleasant
harmonious positive answer.
Shall I take dat as an N.O. den peeps? retorted JB in his too cool for school
street twang.
Weeeeell, Sir, Would you care to use me for a little more melodic musical
accompaniment? said Frankie.
I think well leave the arpeggios to the music lesson with Mrs A Sharp I
feel good dunno dunno dunno uh! replied JB with a smooth swagger as he
stood up off his chair and glided down the classroom aisle, epitomising a half
jerking robot and graceful swan.
He gazed out of the window, transfixed by the deluge of water running
down the windowpanes, splashing on the external sills and rebounding in
projectile fashion into the air. It was like someone below blowing the rain drops
up through a straw. Boooooooom Another deafening roll of huge bass drum
reverberating thunder shook the school and the world outside, forcing shivers,
shakes and jumping momentarily off seats of pupils in the classroom. JB thought
to himself, Hhhhhmmmm Is that an analogy for my heart palpitating
profusely if Im so fortunate to dance intimately and sensuously with Jennifer on
Saturday night? Ill have to contain my excitement at the prospect of this
unadulterated gracious pleasure,he thought.
He walked over to the window at the back of the classroom and propped
himself up against the hot authentically styled radiator, staring out into the dark,
gloomy and unendearing sky. He was willing the morning on so he could
prepare a herbal tea and engage in delightful conversation at lunch with the very
appealing Jennifer, his prey for the weekend. Like a vulture, snaring his prey
with strategic and sinister style, dats the wild jungle culling culture, he moves,
he circles, waits for dem lions to disappears, pounces and feasts on di carcas,
yeah di man, he like a martyr! he swung his shoulders side to side as he sung in
a low tone, immersed in his own fantasy world.
Sir, youve just inspired me there with those lyrics. Thank you, what a
Godsend. My Safari Adventure has been uplifted and enhanced with that poetic
song, whispered Aspen.
Its my pleasure captivating Master Colorado. Im always contriving to
assist and cultivate ones imagination! he responded in his imitated
aristocratically English heritage speak.
As the horrendous weather conditions had dampened the spirits of this
Friday morning, the Headteacher had decided to cancel morning break, at the
discretion of the pupils. An announcement was made over the Public Address
System asking the pupils if they wanted to work through to lunch? Woeful sighs,
boos, foot stamping and tuts reverberated around the class and no doubt
throughout the entire school. The consensus was to work through to lunch. After
the momentarily interruptions, the class soon settled down. The morning flew by
and suddenly, twenty minutes to go peeps and then its lunchtime.

13

Keep the ink flowin, reminiscent of Redgrave, Pinsent n crew Olympic

rowin, encouraged JB.
After three hours of Monsoon like weather, the storm gradually began to
subside to the delight of most in the classroom. JB returned to his seat at the
front of house after giving his legs a brief exercise, as his bottom had began to
feel a lil numb. Probably a result of cycling and rowing at the gym last night for
a good hour. He returned his mind to contemplating his wardrobe for the
birthday party. His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and
saw that it was one of his closest friends, Joe. Obviously being in class, it wasnt
protocol and etiquette to answer, so he decided to respectfully leave it and then
text, just to say hed phone later in the day. Lifting his head, he turned to look
out of the window, amazingly and quite astoundingly, the rain ceased, as if the
Fairy Godmother from Sleeping Beauty had waved her magical wand. The sky
in moments became a beautiful unpolluted sea blue with white clouds, the
epitome of cotton wool being gently broken from the pack and providing a more
alluring and attractive image. A spectrum of colour beautifully glimmered, this
being apparent as a rainbow arced quite elegantly, as if it were an Olympic
Gymnast preparing to perform a walk over from a back bend position. I think Ill
invite Joe to Saturday nights birthday bash, well at least if Tom will let me. I
dont wanna cause any conflict encouragin friends to gate crash like a rampant
bull in an amphitheatre, he thought to himself. Right, Ive decided Thats my
couture n cuth outfit for the party. A pair of navy blue tailored trousers with a
satin black pinstripe up the side, a conservative sky blue shirt, but thats where
the similarity ends. I certainly aint an Aristocratical Elitist voter of that
bureaucratic, mercenary, callous n devious political party, on the contrary. For
me, Im wi da Monster Ravin Loonies, Ha Haaaaaaa, he muttered to himself.
Not being materialistic but being a real 21st century fashionista, he decided that
hed also wear the diamond cuff links, a precious sentimental eternal gift bought
for him by his mum and late father Sugar. Im gonna design my hair into big
Phat clumps, so I look like a cabbage patch, dats di look. I tink too, Ill wear dat
sleek silk tie dat Mum bought me last Christmas, di dark blue number. A stylish
light blue cardigan n dem chic dark tan Cuban Heels. Yeah Man, dats di
Booooomb! Spoke JB a lil too loudly. Instantaneously, several chuckles
sounded around the classroom.
Sir, have you got a date this weekend? said Gemma.
No, Miss Saltfish, but Ill be havin a whale of a time celebratin Mr
Chryslers 30th Birthday! responded JB.
A rapturous applause transcended from the class, ripples of hand clapping
entwined with a few wolf whistles.
Youre the Man.
Stand Up.
Sit Down.
Hoo Hoo Hoo Hoo.
Comedy Caper.
Yes Sir.
Uuuuuum Sirs going out with a lady! Were comments that were flying
round the classrooms, from intrigued pupils wanting to invade JBs private life.
14

Hush now please children. Come on, weve five minutes left, keep thinkin n
writin. Those pens should still be producin black stuff on to paper. Get up,
stand Up, dont give up the fight! replied JB, singing a famous Bob Marley
song.
The wind started to blow a little and a plastic bag brushed against one of the
windows, causing JB to raise his head and catch sight. He thought, Thatll be
me at the weekend, floatin through the air like a bubble being blown by a
Mother, showing her young child how to force washing up liquid and water
through a tiny hand held hoop.
Ding-a-ling Ding-a-ling Ding-a-ling, the school bell made a piercing shrill
at exactly twelve pm to alert the kids it was lunchtime.
OK, Finsh ya last sentence, put ya pens away, be respectful, not too much
noise and lets get ready for lunch. Well done everybody, well continue next
week with these appetisin stories. Go n enjoy ya dinner everyone, he shouted,
raising his voice above the droning noise of all the kids excitedly dashing
around the school.
As soon as everyone had left the classroom, he made his way to the staff
room, ready to enjoy his usual mouth-watering lunch. His stomach was empty
and mouth dry after the standard three and a half hour morning. Most of the
teachers converged, ready to tuck into their array of lunches.
Anyone for a brew? asked JB.
Please.
No thanks.
A herbal for me.
Milky coffee please.
Yep, just tea and one sugar please.
Heeeell yeah. Make it strong, dark n flavoursome, how I like my men,
please, joked Jennifer.
No probs all, Ill play Mother again shall I, he said and laughed.
Wouch, Jennifer likes her men dark, strong n flavoursome hhhhmmmm.
Was that a flirtatious hint that I have a chance?? Im just gonna play it ice cool,
without givin her any inclination, Ha Haaaaaaa, thought JB. When you say
you like em dark, strong n flavoursome, dya prefer em short or tall, you know
what I mean. What kinda mug? he laughed.
Weeeell, Jammin, As long as its tasty, smells good and has an air of class,
Im happy! said Jennifer.
Interesting! I prefer her to be sweet scented, hot with a lil hint of spice.
The herbal tea I mean. he chuckled.
They were constantly teasing and flirting as if they were two horses
frolicking and chasing each other in a luscious gay meadow. The drinks were
served and everyone occupied themselves, Surfing their smart phones, reading
the newspaper, eating their lunches, slurping their drinks. They were amusing
and entertaining themselves, savouring the hour break. JB had made himself and
Tom a soothing, revitalising and detoxing Pukka Herbal Tea containing aniseed,
liquorice root, fennel and cardamom. After five minutes of letting all the
ingredients infuse, Tom tasted it.

15

Geeeeez, no wonder youre always tired J, this must strengthen the blood in
ya wood. I keep tellin ya to share a few of ya ladies, as opposed to being
greedy. He pulled a face, becoming accustomed to the unconventional taste, as
he was used to drinking typical English tea.
On the contrary Tom. Im rejuvenated, also, its an illusion I have a harem
of honeys, most of them are platonic, responded JB.
Platonic? How about the other six?! laughed Tom.
One for the weekend, one for the movies, one for dinner, one for the
theatre, one as an agony aunt and the others my mum! answered JB.
You joker! You disguise it so well, replied Tom.
Whaaaat! Dya mean how I hide my penchant for Jennifer? JB retorted.
Penchant? Isnt that one of those things that sports captains exchange
before international matches? questioned Jennifer.
Thats a pendant! Thank God ya not a blondie, otherwise youd be the brunt
of many jokes. Thankfully ya blue rinse has saved you. said Tom.
A cry of laughter lit up the staff room.
Anyway, so are you confessing your love for me J? asked Jennifer.
Oh my darling, I am just making a fleeting impudent pass at thee! JB
spoke in a Thespian dialect.
I thought Tom hinted that you must have strong blood in ya wood from all
those detox herbal teas, so how can you be impudent? said Jennifer.
Again another ripple of laughter electrified the room like a 25000 volt
current!
Hhhhmmmmm. Thankfully ya not an English Teacher Jen. You stick to ya
artistically alluring portraits, Dali-ing! I think youll find, the word youre
looking for is, IMPOTENCE! Its when a mans drill runs out of batteries and he
needs some more! bellowed Stuart.
Blue pills! Thankfully Ive never had to use em, stated John.
Dya mind. Jen bit into her hot dog, releasing brown sauce into the napkin,
running between her fingers.
Sorry Jen. No one asked you to eat hot dogs today. Speakin of which
Ooooooooooooow, howled John, emulating a dogs mating calling.
Can we leave the smut until after the watershed please n interact in a more
civilised n respectable manner. Were slightly underminin the words decorum n
etiquette, especially durin eatin times! JB smiled and pretended to act in a
serious fashion, then blurted out a laugh.
The humour and rapport was evident amongst a very closely knit group of
teachers. Laughter, joy, sincerity, understanding and reciprocation in abundance.
After a crescendo of noise pollution for at least ten minutes featuring howls,
laughter, high fives, knuckle touches and cries of joy a sudden calm spread
across the staff room. Everyone became engrossed in their smart phones, some
checking their diaries while others who werent so fortunate to have them, had
to contend with flicking through the tabloid and broad sheet daily papers.
Suddenly a spray of projectile saliva flew across the room. Uuuuuurgh, thats
absolutely revolting! Cant you use a handkerchief John? asked Jennifer, with a
look of disgust and disdain on her face.

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Ha Haaaaaaaaaa. Stop panicking woman, thats my pet snake, responded

John.
Aaaaaaaargh. What dya mean PET SNAKE, said Jen.
Exactly what I said. My pet snake. Its a Spitting Cobra! answered John.
Jen, dont look so petrified. Spitting Cobras are in safe sanctuaries, like
Tropical World Complexes or in the jungle. said JB.
And some o them in Oatmill Highs staff room, chuckled Tom.
No way! John, Stop it, dont play ridiculously dangerous games. Leave me
alone! shouted Jen, feeling extremely vulnerable to that potent serpent.
Relax, Jen. Its synthetic. I bought it from a joke store, its totally harmless.
You fill the pouch under its neck with a sticky gunge substance and then press
the back of its head, then Like that. Hey Presto! John replied, re-assuring Jen.
Uuuurgh! Youre disgusting. Keep that dirty stinkin slimy scaly snake
away from me! Jen spoke in a forthright manner.
Which one dya mean Jen? Sssssssssssss The one on display? hissed
John, reminiscent of the serpent.
Hhmmmmm You arent funny John, you repel me! laughed Jen, teasing
him.
Well, at least I know I wont be your date Saturday night! he responded,
winking at JB.
Anyone care for another drink? asked JB.
No thanks, answered everyone in synchronisation, as if they were sets of
identical twins.
JB was delighted as he had a lesson free afternoon. This gave him plenty of
time to prepare for the weekends exploits and organise his lesson plan for next
week. So many things crossed his mind. Hoping Felix had managed to stay out
of trouble after the escapade occurring this morning with Petra, a fusion of love
and hate. His plans for this evening, should he stay in, should he go out for a
meal with Joe and Ashillito.
Somewhere cultured, sophisticated and contemporary, or is it party time and
a prelude venture into the city before Toms 30th tomorrow? What exciting
language challenges should he set for the pupils next week? Should he go to his
Friday evening yoga class to alleviate any mental and physical fatigue, a result
of endless hours of stimulating childrens minds, or rest and recuperate after
another exhausting yet enjoyable week at Oatmill?
Wake up Jammin, Its time to start the afternoon final session. said John
assertively.
Eh! Pardon? Ooooooooh! Hmmmmm, was I dozin, J? replied JB in a tired
dreamy manner.
Yeeeeees Boy! said John.
Did you say something about an afternoon session? answered JB.
Correctamundo, its time to get to class! John responded.
Lord, di way ya dressed, anyone wud tink u were playin at di Crucible
Teatre in di Snooker World Championships. Check out ya waist coat. Chiselled
n sharp ya kno! Also, Im alright, because, I dont ave any afternoon lessons.
Dats what I call an away win on di Pools Coupon! JB replied humorously.

17

Dat dream was nice boy. But now Ive woken up, I cant remember what it
was? Hmmmmmmm Yeah man, dat was it. Summer holidays to somewhere
Hot, Exotic wi Paradisical scenery, JB thought below his mass of sweet scented
afro hair. Take care John n enjoy ya afternoon of double Maths you statistical
guru! JB said, wishing farewell.
Yeah, take care too, enjoy ya free afternoon period and get yourself ready
to party tomorrow night! responded John.
Dont worry bout a ting, Im gonna relish my afternoon of pure freedom.
Ive got marking to catch up on. Take care too and lets live la vida loco
manana! replied JB.
John was the Head of Year and also a maths teacher.

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Chapter 4
Afternoon Delight
The week thankfully was almost over, well, the working one at least. The
closely knit group of teachers were relishing the enjoyable prospect of partying
tomorrow night for Toms 30th birthday shenanigans. Hed booked a cool, chic,
couture and classy bar in the centre of Marlborough, a sizeable vibrant town on
the outskirts of the city of Lillyford. Lillyford was a large metropolitan city in
the north of England with just over a million population. Popular for its modern
comercial shopping district, it was an epicentre of entertainment, hosting a
plethora of amenities ranging from restaurants, theatres, cinema complexes,
sport arenas, bars, clubs, galleries, Conservation Sanctuaries etc. JB decided to
stay in the staff room, as it was the perfect retreat away from the noise of the
classrooms and corridors of pupils dashing to and from their lessons.
Its time to immerse miself in dese books, as I wanna leave on time today at
three twenty pm, he thought in his mind.
He was feeling extremely tired and decided to have another ten minutes of
relaxation after lunch. He had all the poems to mark from last week. Hed
promised to award a prize to the two best poems. The poem had to start with,
The floral scented bouquet, was so elegant, with its silky soft petals, not at all
risqu
JBs eyes began to slowly close, with a little flicker, reminiscent of a
candles yellow flame blowing side to side, gently, as a light breeze drifted in
through an open window. Bright flashing strobe lights, Hip Hop music
supported with a heavy deep bass sound reverberating around the bar, people
dancing, drinking an assortment of drinks, guys at the bar knocking back the
shots, the fresh fragrant scent of eau de cologne and perfume, the strong smell of
blown out candles placed on tables in intimate coves around the venue, people
hugging, high fiving, kissing, laughing, while others are slumped on couches
struggling to deal with chronic alcohol inebriation and suddenly bang
JB woke up after a docile one legged pigeon collided with the staff room
window. He checked his state of the art iPhone
No man! Wheres the blasted time gone. Ive been snoozin for a good forty
five minutes and its now one forty five pm. Booooy, I better get a move on wi
dis marking! Poetry in motion! He started to sing in a way to inspire and
motivate him to begin looking through the poetic delights skillfully written by
this mornings class, last week.
He had thirty books to browse through, wanting to at least get through ten
before the end of day school bell sounded at three twenty pm.
He went to the staff toilet down the corridor to freshen himself up, as the
extended cat nap had made him feel incredibly tired and lethargic. The toilets
were in immaculate condition. Compliments to the cleaners for their
19

immeasurable attention to common hygiene. Compared to the old school before

it was demolished, the two year old, three-storey modern structure was regal.
Self closing fire doors, new extinguishers, lifts, reliable central heating, smooth
tiled floors, classrooms with soft textured carpet, high tech gymnasium, indoor
tennis courts, 3G football pitches, a record club for break time use for the pupils
along with many other modern conveniences. Jammin Boy gave his face a good
wash, after a brief toilet stop, a blow of the hand dryer after washing his hands,
then returned to the staff room to begin his chores. To be honest, a chore was
probably slightly inappropriate, as he loved his job, but his mind was set on
weekend partying shenanigans. Right den, lets get to work n mark dis poetry,
he said aloud.
He picked up the first book and started to read, nodding his head, smiling
and becoming engrossed in the wonders of the ink written architecture. He was
flicking through books as if he were shovelling coal in a mine with confidence
and ease, possessing super powered strength. Before, he even realised, six
poems had been marked, every one different in style. Some with flair and
flamboyance, others with fluidity, conciseness and conventionality. This made it
even more pleasurable with the expansive enigmatic nature.
Ding-a-ling-aling The piercing shrill of the hometime bell, it was 3.20
oclock already. Where had the afternoon disappeared to?!
Yeah Man, its time to rock n roll, step foot on di floor, avoid dem pot hole
n cruise for di bus wi style n soul, he yelled out.
Magically, hed managed to mark his target of ten books. Dats what I call
hittin di Jackpot man, boyakasha, Im di dawg. Ha Haaaaaaaaaa, he screeched
and chuckled.
He was too tired to go to yoga class tonight, so he was going to go home,
watch TV, relax and put his tired aching feet up.

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