Thursday 18 December 2014

Dear Tony...


I’m not sure what I’m getting for Christmas this year. It could be a new phone. It could be a new laptop. It could be a new something else. Either way, I’m sure I'll be happy with it.

The thing is, I’m not really a materialistic person. Sure, new trainers are better than old ones, and I’d rather be seen with an i-phone 6 than an ancient Nokia, but when it comes to saving up for these things I’m more inclined to spend my money on immediate pleasures, like food and drink.

As a result you might think me underwhelmed by Christmas and the concept of receiving lots of lovely presents. However, there’s more to this time of year than getting a new watch or a fancy suit. It’s about giving gifts as well, it’s about the Nativity story, it’s about being generous to those in need and about families coming together to celebrate each other. If you’re now reaching for the sick bucket then I apologise, but I hope you agree it’s true!

I’ve been thinking about what Christmas would be like if for some reason everyone were stuck at school. As unappealing as that idea sounds, especially if you’re curled up right now on a deluxe sofa with mulled wine in hand, it might actually be good fun. Think about it – Christmas spent with your mates rather than with Aunt Gertrude, who you are forced to make agonising small talk with and who glares at you every time you reach for the Quality Street.

In all honesty, it’s not that fanciful an idea. If climate change goes berserk anytime soon as we’re told it might, then who’s to say a freak blizzard won't snow us in after term ends?

Although us boys might relish the idea of all-day snowball fights, the housemasters would it. Apart from not getting their holidays as promised, some boys in the house would soon get very bored, and with no divs to attend or EWs to complete they would turn to that easiest relief from tedium - breaking the rules.

Smoking and drinking in the corridors would become commonplace, and at night gangs would form and prowl the house looking for rooms to ransack. The usual mood of mild deference would make way for an irrepressible anarchy.

The most urgent problem I foresee however is the following - where would all the presents come from? Presuming the blizzard has kept Santa’s sleighs grounded and all other mail routes are cut off, then everyone’s two main benefactors – the rents and St Nick – would be unable to deliver their goodies.

One way of getting round this would be to organise an inter-house Secret Santa. Yet, as much as I would love to give Runty a One Direction poster as his main Christmas present, I’m not sure getting back some smelly socks or tampons in return would be quite as enjoyable.

The only solution therefore would be to approach Tony Little, illustrious headmaster of the school, and solicit him to dip his paw into one of the numerous funds (rowing or music would be good choices) and withdraw enough cash to give us all a merry Christmas.

No doubt everyone would be clamouring for the latest smartphone or tablet, but as someone who isn’t turned on by those things my Christmas wish-list would be rather different. Instead of asking for possessions, I would request certain favours. If we had we been snowed in this Christmas for example, my letter would look something like this:

Dear Tony,



Thank for being such a fabulous headmaster. I really like your moustache. If I was a girl I’d probably have a crush on you. I’d really appreciate it if you could do the following for me this Christmas:

  • Make me house captain
  • Give me a cheeky smile as you're leaving chapel somtime
  • Praise me in assembly for being a top, top lad
  • Get me into a good uni (wink wink)
  • Grow a goatee and dye it pink in aid of breast cancer
  • Dress up on Mufti Day
  • Cut off Runty's balls (preferably with a spoon)
  • Go back on your decision to resign (I love you so much)
 
Love,


The Eton Boy xxx


Of course, being the consummate professional he is Tony would hardly agree to any of these. But he might lean back in his chair, let out a chuckle or two whilst thinking ‘what a scallywag!’ and then go back to clipping his nails.

With that image in mind I wish everyone reading this the very merriest of Christmases. I hope you drink well, eat well, and don’t get plonked next to Aunt Gertrude!


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