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Authors: Anthony McGowan
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significantly late.’
‘It was my sisters, sir … in the bathroom … and the bus … the driver …’
My excuses petered out, defeated by the looks of disgust, boredom, etc. etc. on the faces before me.
‘It was here. In my office. The inner sanctum. There.’
Whale pointed to his wastepaper bin.
It sank in.
The Brown Phantom had dumped in the acting Deputy Headmaster’s wastepaper bin.
In another situation I’d have been rolling around on the floor. But I realized that I was deep in the poo, just like the poo was deep in the bin.
‘But how do you know it was done during assembly?’
‘The …
object
was not discovered until this morning. It had been covered with a sheet of paper. I called in Doctor Morlock, who is an old friend, as well as someone who has helped me with … well, that’s not relevant. She was able to give an approximate time of …
argh
—’
‘Between nine-seventeen and ten-oh-six yesterday morning,’ cut in Doc Morlock.
‘And I also asked her to use her professional expertise to tell me if there were any other unusual or distinguishing features of the … evidence.’
‘Stool, Mr Whale,’ said Doc Morlock. ‘I like to call a stool a stool.’
‘Fine. Stool.’
‘And’– for the first time the nutritionist looked directly at me, and her mouth was basically the most like a cat’s bum that it has ever been, and it had always been a lot like a cat’s bum – ‘I can confirm that it was a very unusual stool.’
‘How unusual, Doctor Morlock?’
Something about the way Mr Whale asked this made me think that it was prearranged.
‘I have only ever seen one human stool like this before.’
‘And when was that, Doctor Morlock?’
‘It was at the end of last year.’
‘And who did the, ah,
stool
belong to?’
She turned to me again, giving me the full cat’s bum.
‘It belonged to this boy here. Dermot. Dermot Milligan.’
Even though I guess they all knew what she was going to say, there was still a gasp from the other teachers.
‘Well, how can you be sure, Doctor Morlock?’ said Mr Wells, who was trying to stick up for me. ‘Isn’t one,
you know
… just like another,
you know
…?’
‘It certainly is not,’ said the offended nutritionist. ‘I can distinguish between forty-seven different types and sub-types. But this particular stool had large quantities of partially digested banana skin in it, and, as I have said, I have only ever seen that in one human stool sample: Dermot Milligan’s.’
Mr Wells’s face changed. He was remembering my stunt with the banana skin. Suddenly a much sterner character replaced the friendly Mr Wells.
‘Well, I see,’ he said.
‘I can explain,’ I said desperately.
I
could
explain it. Last year, Doc Morlock was watching my poo like a hawk to check to see if I was eating any of the banned donuts. If I was, then I was going to be sent to Camp Fatso. My choice was simple: stop eating donuts or get my hands on some 100% guaranteed prime quality, donut-free poo. I came by a dollop belonging to a bad-tempered chimp called Samson, which I passed off as my own.
Samson was too stupid to peel his bananas, which was why Doc Morlock now thought that any human poo with chunks of banana skin in it must be mine. So, to explain why the poo couldn’t be mine would involve admitting that I was a HUGE LIAR. And it would be Camp Fatso, here I come.
And anyway, who would believe me?
‘We’re waiting,’ said Mr Whale.
‘I’ve been framed. The whole thing’s a set-up.’
Mocking laughter.
‘And who would want to frame a schoolboy?’
‘I’ve got … enemies.’
Mr Whale shook his head impatiently. ‘I think we’ve heard enough of this, boy. It’s time to confess. If you admit what you’ve done there may be a way to avoid expelling you, although of course you will need some psychiatric assessment, because clearly whoever has done this is mentally deranged.’
‘Look, I absolutely promise that it wasn’t me …
‘It was my sisters, sir … in the bathroom … and the bus … the driver …’
My excuses petered out, defeated by the looks of disgust, boredom, etc. etc. on the faces before me.
‘It was here. In my office. The inner sanctum. There.’
Whale pointed to his wastepaper bin.
It sank in.
The Brown Phantom had dumped in the acting Deputy Headmaster’s wastepaper bin.
In another situation I’d have been rolling around on the floor. But I realized that I was deep in the poo, just like the poo was deep in the bin.
‘But how do you know it was done during assembly?’
‘The …
object
was not discovered until this morning. It had been covered with a sheet of paper. I called in Doctor Morlock, who is an old friend, as well as someone who has helped me with … well, that’s not relevant. She was able to give an approximate time of …
argh
—’
‘Between nine-seventeen and ten-oh-six yesterday morning,’ cut in Doc Morlock.
‘And I also asked her to use her professional expertise to tell me if there were any other unusual or distinguishing features of the … evidence.’
‘Stool, Mr Whale,’ said Doc Morlock. ‘I like to call a stool a stool.’
‘Fine. Stool.’
‘And’– for the first time the nutritionist looked directly at me, and her mouth was basically the most like a cat’s bum that it has ever been, and it had always been a lot like a cat’s bum – ‘I can confirm that it was a very unusual stool.’
‘How unusual, Doctor Morlock?’
Something about the way Mr Whale asked this made me think that it was prearranged.
‘I have only ever seen one human stool like this before.’
‘And when was that, Doctor Morlock?’
‘It was at the end of last year.’
‘And who did the, ah,
stool
belong to?’
She turned to me again, giving me the full cat’s bum.
‘It belonged to this boy here. Dermot. Dermot Milligan.’
Even though I guess they all knew what she was going to say, there was still a gasp from the other teachers.
‘Well, how can you be sure, Doctor Morlock?’ said Mr Wells, who was trying to stick up for me. ‘Isn’t one,
you know
… just like another,
you know
…?’
‘It certainly is not,’ said the offended nutritionist. ‘I can distinguish between forty-seven different types and sub-types. But this particular stool had large quantities of partially digested banana skin in it, and, as I have said, I have only ever seen that in one human stool sample: Dermot Milligan’s.’
Mr Wells’s face changed. He was remembering my stunt with the banana skin. Suddenly a much sterner character replaced the friendly Mr Wells.
‘Well, I see,’ he said.
‘I can explain,’ I said desperately.
I
could
explain it. Last year, Doc Morlock was watching my poo like a hawk to check to see if I was eating any of the banned donuts. If I was, then I was going to be sent to Camp Fatso. My choice was simple: stop eating donuts or get my hands on some 100% guaranteed prime quality, donut-free poo. I came by a dollop belonging to a bad-tempered chimp called Samson, which I passed off as my own.
Samson was too stupid to peel his bananas, which was why Doc Morlock now thought that any human poo with chunks of banana skin in it must be mine. So, to explain why the poo couldn’t be mine would involve admitting that I was a HUGE LIAR. And it would be Camp Fatso, here I come.
And anyway, who would believe me?
‘We’re waiting,’ said Mr Whale.
‘I’ve been framed. The whole thing’s a set-up.’
Mocking laughter.
‘And who would want to frame a schoolboy?’
‘I’ve got … enemies.’
Mr Whale shook his head impatiently. ‘I think we’ve heard enough of this, boy. It’s time to confess. If you admit what you’ve done there may be a way to avoid expelling you, although of course you will need some psychiatric assessment, because clearly whoever has done this is mentally deranged.’
‘Look, I absolutely promise that it wasn’t me …
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