Phillip

Don't you think it's strange when your mind drifts off into an absent abyss only to return with a poignant message that stays in your mind for the rest of the day?

I was eating my Cheerios this morning reading the Grauniad newspaper when I came across an article about the England team’s rugby success. This led me to think about when I played rugby at middle school, where we couldn’t even afford the posts so we couldn’t ever convert tries or penalties. At the time I was a winger and was considered quite a good player. However I did face stiff competition from Philip. He was a really nice guy, and even though my memories of him are hazy I remember him being someone of integrity which was something most 12 year olds didn’t even know was a word let alone have it.

Phillip’s father was an English teacher at our school who would strike terror amongst us with his large glaring eyes and Neanderthal style beard. He was a teacher that told you if you were good but had no problem telling you if you were bad with school work and I liked that style of teaching. However, there were rumours going round at the time that he was having an affair with another teacher. Every body talked about it and the gossip was rife through class to class and year to year. We all were mesmerised with the idea that the two teachers were at it, either in the store cupboard, class room or even the headmaster’s desk. The rumours just got wilder and stupid but it was lapped up by us all. But none of us thought about Phillip.

He must have been aware of these rumours as they were soon becoming playground lore. Not once did he shout at anyone for spreading them. Not once did he break down in public over them. He didn’t even leave the school. This is something I find quite admirable, that a boy of 12 could deal with such an emotional issue so well. I don’t think many others could. I certainly couldn’t and even though I don’t know him anymore I respect him so much now.

I realised that I had my spoon dangling in the air when my mind decided to return to its head. I quickly finished up and set off to work thinking about what Phillip had to put up with and what on earth is he doing now.

I’ve managed to bash out some prose for you to dabble with if you wish.


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Charles Kennedy, stood looking at the mirror. He stared at his reflection, seeing his hair line growing perilously higher every time he saw himself. His blue eyes looked back at himself seeing his lips curling downwards. He hated himself. Not purely for the fact he had entered middle age and what he saw before him wouldn’t stir the loins of a nymphomaniac who had consumed a nets catch of oysters. He hated what was within, his angry temper, his devious mind that had been nurtured well over the years by performing a plethora of crimes ranging from stealing the hub caps of a Ford Cortina to armed robbery at various small shops and garages. He once tried to rob a bank. He was younger then, even greedier than he was today and a lot less experienced. They followed the bank manager for weeks finding out his journey home his, the route he took, how long it took and what alternative ones he used. Then one day when they were ready to rob the bank they followed him in a car and over took him and once they were on a one lane road stopped the car forcing the bank manager to stop his. Three of them put on balaclavas got out advanced on the car with shot guns pointing in his direction. They thought that was the hard part, capturing the bank manager. From there they could get the right details, force him to make the right calls and the money would be there’s. However, they didn’t consider the wiliness of this particular bank manager. Although to them he looked terrified and the urination stains on his trousers only made them think he will comply with anything. He let them easily pull him out of the car, threaten him of the consequences while shoving a gun in his mouth so far back that he started to gag. He nodded to their every demand eagerly. What they didn’t anticipate was that while they approached the car the bank manager dialled 999 on his mobile and popped it in his suit jacket pocket. They set off in their car towards the bank. The bank manager started to wail “I can’t believe you’re robbing the bank, my bank on Chester Street. Why not another, and why do you four have to bring guns with you. I just can’t believe it.”

“Shut it.” Said Charles.

“I just don’t want to die. Not like this, not here on a country road off Toddsbury.”

Charles sitting next to him grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face close to his.

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll shoot your testicles off. Got it.”

It appeared to silence the bank manager who only nodded solemnly, Charles let him go and he turned his head forward, his body rigid.

Within five minutes the police siren sounds could be heard near by. All of them looked at each other for some sort of explanation as to why they were now being chased by the police.

Charles looked at Gregor.

“Don’t look at me for an answer. Did you frisk him? Did you check his pockets?”

Immediately Charles realised his bumbling error. How could he forget to check his pockets, even ask if he was carrying anything. Feeling embarrassed and angry with himself he lunged at the bank manager smacking him on the face with his right fist while his left hand grabbed his jacket. The mobile popped out from the pocket and landed on Charles’s lap. The 999 number illuminated in blue on the screen.