I Can't Help It

The day I was expelled, my English teacher proclaimed ‘Nothing good ever came out of war,’
'Yes it did' I shouted, after fighting with the urge to keep my gob shut, I shouted it from the back of the class so as to be audible above the shoe shuffling, the yawning, the pen tapping and the tick tock from the enormous school clock in the gym.
We where in this inappropriate part of the school for double English because of mindless ‘vandals’. The mindless vandals who according to Father Lavery ‘should have their tight young bottoms whipped’ had broken into the main tutorial block one dull Thursday night, smeared dog shit on the door handles, spray painted a huge bus stop knob on the blackboard, before poking holes in the ceiling that had unfortunately disturbed the dormant asbestos. Our usual classroom was now off limits class off limits thanks to the tight bottomed young hooligans
'Nothing good ever came out of war,' he repeated through a nose so large he could smoke a cigarette in the shower. For me as well as his pink banana he was also talking through his arse.
'Bouncey Castles,' I offered, 'what about Bouncy castles?' They came out of war and they’re heaps of fun. Kids love ‘em, adults get pissed and love ‘em. Girls showing their knickers, men with sweaty feet all good fun – Sir.

“ And how did they come out of war backland? He questioned above the giggles and over the stares of the whole class including Simon Hughes who was mouthing ‘you’re so dead’ whilst actioning a dagger slitting his chubby ginger throat..
“Paratroopers Sir,in the forties, trained on them,big ones, big bouncy castles like they have today, although not in a mucky yellow and red and no with comedy turrets.” It should have stopped there with the Eastenders percussionist signaling the end of the episode but no, I had to carry on.
“Very good then, the teacher acknowledged but repeated “Nothing good ever came of war.” I knew I should’ve shut up but there’s something inside me when a teacher talks, something that makes me want to shout out and prove him wrong.It finds a way out, I can’t help it.
“Combat trousers,” I shouted and immediately covered my mouth with my hand. The class went into an uproar of cheers. Simon Hughes went crazy with his exaggerating throat slitting and being hanged impressions, all the other kids were turned looking at me either laughing or shaking their heads in disbelief. “What?” the teacher demanded I repeated my shout.
“Combat trousers Sir, they’re great, they came out of War, even you’ve got a pair, you wore them on the field trip to Rhyll. Sir"
The teacher stared at me –he knew I was right.
“Combat trousers Sir, even Marks and Spencers are doing them now. Straight off the battle field them Sir, straight from the mud blood and glory - Sir”
“Get to Mr Smith.” he barked. Mr. Smith was the headmaster, all tweed with a pipe always in his mouth giving him teeth like sugar puffs and breath that could knock a fly off a bucket of poo. A joyous roar went up in the class as all the kids waved me out of my seat. Simon Hughes the theatrical little bugger nearly wet himself with the excitement of it all.
“What for Sir?” I asked but he just held the door open and tried to calm the ocean of delight that had filled the gym.
“Clever little bugger.” He hissed coating me in his real ale breath as I passed him en route to the corridor.
Mr Smith’s office was weird, on his desk he always had two Fray Bentos tinned steak and kidney pies with puff pastry and a small bag of sherbert lemons that were never open.
“Well lad sit yourself down what is it this time?”

“Nothing Sir.”
“He ground the pipe all bovine and thoughtful he remained silent and gestured an other answer with a directional eyebrow.
“It’s Mr Kinnerton Sir, he said nothing good came out of war.”
“And?”
“I said bouncy castles sir, they came out of the second world war and they’re good ask any kid, even adults love them.”
Smith looked at me with immense interest, he knew I was right.
“That may be so Son he said, opening his drawer to get his favourite whacking strap, but generally speaking in a wider overall sense nothing good has come out of war, - agree?”
“Yes Sir, I submitted, it jumped out I had no control, “apart from combat trousers.”
Smith put down the strap heart as heavy as his wife
“Combat trousers?”
“Yes sir everyone wears them, from pop stars to Mr Kinnerton himself Sir, army pants you must have seen them Sir ,they’re everywhere?”
“Quite Quite, he said picking up the strap again. But on the whole son nothing good has ever come out of war, you agree?”
“Yes Sir. But the voice rose again.The Beetle Sir?”
Smith sucked in a huge breath and put the strap back down.
“The Beetle?”
“The Volkswagen Beetle sir, ‘the peoples car’ developed by Hitler in the forties then going on to be the biggest selling mass production car in the world sir, ever sir,the air cooled engine lasts forever Sir, still make them in Brazil you know Sir?”
Smith’s eyes sunk behind a furrowed brow,
“The Beetle eh, well you’re right on that one lad, had one myself bright orange, denim seats, never let me down, but all things considered Mr Kinnerton is correct wouldn’t you agree that nothing good has come out of war?”
“Yes sir….”
“Right,” he picked the strap up again.
“Apart.”
“Apart!” Mr. Smith was going very red and the strap when down again.
“Apart from MASH, Sir.”
“Mash?”
“Yes Sir Mash Sir, greatest sit-com in American television history, remember it Sir ?” ‘suicide is painless it brings on many changes and I can take or leave it if I please.’
Headmaster Smith looked unwell he sat back in his leather chair and his leg went up and kicked his desk scattering Sherbert Lemons and sliding the pie tins across his desk.
“Korean War sir I think it was, a lot of people thought it was Vietnam but it was Korea.”
“Boy, he gasped, listen to me generally nothing good has come of war. Got that?’ the strap went up again as he got to his feet wheezing.
“Yes Sir….”
“Right six whacks for your cheek and back to class. Hand out and repeat after me nothing good ever came out of war.”
“Nothing good ever cam out of war except.”
“EXCEPT!”
“Tins Sir, tins came out of war, without war we’d have no tinned goods, Americans invented them Sir, for the boys on the battlefield so they could have fresh rations. They’re good aren’t they Sir tins my dad loves tinned peaches, do you Sir do you like a tinned peach, suede apples my mum calls peaches sir isn’t that funny, ‘what’s for pud mum, I’ll shout? ‘A tin of suede apples you little monkey she’ll shout back Sir.’ Look Sir like these Fray Bentos Pies of yours, tinned Sir, thank war for them Sir. war and good old Uncle Sam.”
Headmaster Smith just slumped back in his chair and held his head in his hands.
The end of school bell blasted out.
“Just get out boy.”
"Yes Sir", I said, grateful not to be leaving with stinging hands.
“And Boy.”
“Yes Sir?”
“No one likes a smart Alec.”
“Yes Sir… But the voice welled up, 'Mrs. Hawkins does sir, Mrs. Steven Hawkins he’s married you know sir, married his nurse, he a smart Alec Sir. She likes him, must do she married him didn’t she?"

The End