Maybe he was a sexual revolutionary; maybe he was an early developer; maybe he was simply bereft of attention following his parents' acrimonious divorce: but whatever the reason, Bob Eccles (name slightly altered) decided that, in the second year, he was gay. However, such homosexual cliches as listening to Shirley Bassey or anal rape were too mundane for him: his sexuality manifested itself in a tendency to eat sweets that he'd found on the floor. As he became gayer, we'd throw sweets into muddy puddles and watch in amazement as the ginger-haired poof gobbled them up. The zenith of his bummery came when he ate a polo that'd been thrown into the urinal.
By the summer term he declared that he wasn't gay anymore. Indeed, he's married now, whereas I haven't had a sniff in years. Kids may be cruel, but time is crueller still.

Oddly enough - maybe it's just us public school toffs - but being really gay seems to be the new thing these days. It started with pink shirts and hugging other guys and has now got to the stage where fake fellatio in the Common Room is considered an act of brotherly appreciation. Except by the headmaster, who was less than pleased to walk in just as Sam Thorpe was enthusiastically acting out swallowing.

Is it just the toffs that do this? I wonder if posh girls ever perform fake cunnilingus on each other? I offer up this possibility merely in a spirit of scientific curiosty, in case you were wondering. - Matt