Whacking the sneak!

Bump! Clootz came down across the armchair, yelling, and the infuriated Jones held him pinned there face downwards. Then Flynn started operations with the cricket-stump. Whack, whack, whack! – Extracted from Just Like Jimmy, by Owen Conquest (a.k.a Frank Richards), The Boys’ Friend, 15 January 1916. Available to download free-of-charge here.

It is 1916 and Britain is at war with Germany. With good intentions, the headmaster of Rookwood school takes on a new boy, Clootz, from Germany as a pupil. The other boys are outraged. During a class Flynn throws an inkball that hits a classmate. When form-master Mr. Bootles demands to know who threw the pellet, Clootz sneaks on Flynn. Later Clootz returns to his study to find Flynn and others waiting for him.

Now read on ...

Flynn laid down his egg spoon and fixed a deadly glare upon Clootz.

Jones minor rose to his feet. Oswald shrugged his shoulders. After the sneaking in the Form-room Oswald had given him up. Whatever his study-mates chose to do, Oswald was prepared to back them up.

“So you’ve come back?” said Flynn.

“Jaw old! Why should I not come to my study?”

“Ye dirty sneak!”

“Get out!” roared Jones minor.

Flynn jumped up.

“Gimme a cricket-stump!” he shouted.

Clootz backed to the door, his face pale.

“If you touch me I will go directly to Mr. Bootles,” he exclaimed.

“Faith, if ye’re going to sneak we’ll give ye something to sneak about, ye thafe of the world.”

“Ach! Mein Gott!” stuttered Clootz, as the Irish junior grasped him by the shoulder and swung him half across the study. “let me go!”

“Take off yer barnacles, and put up yer hands!” said Flynn. “Sure, I’ll only use one hand meself, to make all fair. You can tie up the other, Oswald. Is it a go, ye sneaking thafe?”

“I – I will not fight you.”

“Ye’re bigger than I am, intoirely, and older too. And sure, I’ll use only one hand to ye.”

“Ach! I will not – ich will nicht – nicht – nicht!”

“Then it’s a licking, ye’re going to have,” said Flynn grimly. “Shove him across the armchair, Jones!”

“What-ho!” said Jones.

Clootz struggled desperately, and Jones minor gave a loud yell as sharp nails scored down his face, drawing red.

“Yarooh! Ow, ow! He’s scratching me!” yelled Jones.

“Pin the baste! I’ll give him scratchin’”

“Help!” yelled Clootz, “Help!”

Bump! The Boche came down across the armchair, yelling, and the infuriated Jones held him pinned there face downwards. Then Flynn started operations with the cricket-stump.

Whack, whack, whack!

“Ach! Help! Yoop! Help! Ach!”

Whack, whack, whack!

“Yarooh!”

“That’s for sneaking!” roared Flynn. “And that’s for scratching like a cate, ye spalpeen! And that’s for being a Boche!”

Whack, whack, whack!

“And that’s for being a Hun! And that’s for being a filthy Prussian! And that’s for not washin’ in the morning! And that’s for snoring!”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

Whack, whack, whack!

“Ach! Help! Ach! I hate you! I hate you! Wait until the Germans are here, and your school is burned over your heads! Ach! You shall be beaten and shot like the Belgians. Ach! Help! Mein Gott!”

“That’s enough, Flynn you ass!” said Oswald laughing. “Don’t break the stump. Kick him out!”

Flynn panted.

“Sure, I wouldn’t mind breakin’ the stump, on a sneak and a Hun,” he said.

“That’s enough, fathead! He won’t sneak again.”

“I will tell Herr Bootles!” shrieked Clootz.

“He wants some more,” roared Flynn.

“Rats! Chuck it!”

“Chuck him out!” said Jones minor.

Oswald opened the door. Flynn pointed to it with the stump.

“Clear out, ye spalpeen. And remimber, ivery time ye show yere Prussian chivvy in this study, ye’ll get the same.”

Clootz turned a face white with rage and hatred upon the Irish junior. He shook his fat fist at the whole study.

“I will have revenge for this!”

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