Parnell. Where do you start? Parnell was an odd girl. In those days (1978 ish) we all had nick-names: Barton’s (see Barton Beatings) was the Ox because he was as strong as an ox and almost as clever. I’m not going to tell you my nick name because it will identify me. OK, it was Polaris Cock. Parnell’s was the Horse, or as Barton frequently said in a loud voice, the ‘orse’. This was because she was obsessed with all things horsey. She was also a bit sociopathic, fairly introverted and a total teacher arse licker. She had a strange habit of galloping when she ran: her head would go up and down like a race horse and she would occasionally do the reigns action with her hands which caused us all to piss ourselves. The best day for this was Wednesdays when people would put their bin bags out. On the way home from school Parnell, after a bit of encouragement or goading would gallop off, to cries of “they’re off!” and then, Grand National style, jump over the bin bag ‘fences’. Needless to say she never had a boyfriend other than a fledgling relationship with Osborne who shared her introverted and thick characteristics. We all felt she was barking up the wrong tree there as Osborne was widely held to be, as Weston, pronouncing every syllable would say, ‘a ho-mo- sex- u-al’. Despite having a face like a sullen mule, Parnell did have a great body and I did try to engage her in classroom gropings, but unlike Sarah, Gillian and Elaine (see Science lessons gropings), she was not interested and would stamp on your foot if you tried to fondle her arse in woodwork. Fucking lesbian.