Established 1896

"Campbell 'Camel' Dempster, a tall, gangling lad a year or two older than I, was always in trouble with 'Pill' Parry, one of the teachers. 'Camel' had a bet with others of his age group that he could get exactly one hundred cuts in one term. At ninety-seven he committed some minor offence for which 'Pill' issued the expected 'See me afterward!' - but unfortunately administered four cuts instead of the expected three, thus ruining 'Camel's' bet by one."

"Mr E 'Willie' or 'Gob' Brown took over from 'Toke' when 'Toke' went to England. He was universally popular - although to us he was an old man, partly bald, with only a few hairs on top of his head, and a stiff knee-joint: I remember his going off on a stretcher before it became completely stiffened. 'Gob' administered the punishment, on the only occasion when I saw a boy caned before the entire School, for stealing. He was given six cuts and expelled. I was deeply impressed, and still am. The experience must have been hell for 'Gob' Brown. He was a very kind man, although - when he pointed with a bony finger on an outstretched arm and said, in his gravelly voice: THAT BOY! - he was rather terrifying to a small boy."

"In my first year our Headmaster, P U Henn (as our Housemaster) taught us Latin and divinity. H A 'Gob' Brown taught us maths. I was a willing student and had no great difficulty with lessons. I was also an avid reader of penny dreadfuls, the paperbacks of our day, thrilling stories which circulated throughout the School until the print was almost read off them. One day in class I was surreptitiously reading one under the desk when 'Gob' appeared alongside me, reached down and took it. 'Ah!' he said. 'The Mystery Man of Lhases, eh?' - and promptly tore it up. I never found out what became of The Mystery Man, but I had a sore tail for a time."

"In 1920 I became a Prefect. As such, I was partly responsible for discipline in the School, with the authority to punish any who broke rules such as smoking or being caught out of bounds. Punishment was so many strokes delivered on the tail by the School Captain or, if he were not available, by the Senior House Prefect. With Prefects as judges and jury the charge was read and the punishment was suggested - so many strokes - and the Prefects voted on the suitability of it. The culprit was bent over the table for the sentence to be carried out - and looking back, I think sometimes we Prefects might have been a bit sadistic."

"Having heard of another small group's successful nocturnal foray to Harpers' Orchard, a few boys from our dorm decided, late one night, to try our luck. At midnight, we crept along the corridor towards the main stairway, where we felt safe enough to hurry. At that point things went wrong. Suddenly crackle, crackle, crackle underfoot seemed alarmingly loud, and a voice at the head of the stairs inquired: 'Where are you boys going?'

We stopped dead, and looked up: there was 'Puttee' Collisson in his pyjamas. Gingerly, and with obviously guilty looks, we retraced our steps, and were ushered into his room at the head of the stairs. He took our names and told us to report next day to his office where we each received a kindly lecture on 'thou shalt not', etc - and six each on the derriere. In anticipation of such a happening, 'Puttee' has sprinkled sugar on the stone stairway. Sneaky, eh?"

"One of the highlights of Guildford days was the exciting prospect of a Prefects' meeting to deal with some misdemeanour which warranted caning with the Prefects' cane: it was even heavier and longer than that used by a Master, and some School and House Captains wielded them with great dexterity and vigour.

As the time approached for the victim's appearance in the Prefects room, all and sundry gathered outside the Common Room to listen to administration of the 'cuts' - generally six. We would count them out aloud and when the door opened, would join the sufferer in a rush to the toilets. There he would drop his pants to expose to the very interested audience the red and blue weals across his buttocks, and a pleasurable and informative interlude might be spent in discussion and comparisons about other marks from other 'shootings' inflicted on other boys at other times by other Masters - the sufferers cherished a curious sort of inverse pride in the workmanlike infliction of punishment."

"The Masters who most directed my life on lines best suited to my ability and inclination were Canon Henn and Charles Bull. Discipline was, of course, integral to the school curriculum.

In the 1920s it was strict but not harsh, and probably the Master's academic gown conferred on him an air of authority which made it easier for him to maintain order. Prefects accepted their share of responsibility, and there was little bullying - althought whatever or wherever the School, it will always attract a few bullies. Potential offenders might well have been deterred by the threat of four or six 'cuts' on the rear; by confinement within the School boundaries; classroom detention; or 'lines'.

For the most heinous crimes, the offender suffered public caning in the big hall and possibly expulsion as well - although the latter seldom occurred. In one instance which I recall, the boy to be expelled - for theft - left in a hurry the night before the ordeal. In most of the other, very rare cases, parents were permitted discreetly to take their boy away. For my own part, one experience in my first year (four of the best on my rear end) made me careful never to be caught again and, indeed, I was never again convicted of any wrongdoing."

"I might say I am opposed to those who decry corporal punishment as a deterrent to untruly behaviour. At Fremantle Boys' School I was punished with three 'cuts' from a cane on each hand, whereas at Guildford I bent over and took four stinging blows across the seat of my pants. In each case, once was enough. My behaviour improved immeasurably after each chastisement and stayed improved. My mates at School might have admired the four blue-black welts on my bottom, but I took no pride in them."

"On my third day at School, two of my contemporaries came to see me on the playing field, saying that one of the Masters, 'Mr Sim' wanted to see me in the Masters' Common Room. I was to knock on the door and ask for 'Mr Sim'. They knew what I didn't - Mr Mabey's nickname had been given to him because 'Sim' meant 'may be' in Latin. The Master who answered my knock reported to Mr Mabey that a small boy wished to speak to 'Mr Sim'. Mabey's response took me somewhat by surprise. 'Boy! Come here! Bend over!' I did so, and received one reasonably well administered cut on the bottom. Almost immediately, however, Mr Mabey's attention was drawn to two other small boys, convulsed with amusment, enjoying the scene through the partly opened door. He called them in to administer two each - and the incident happily formed a lifelong, enjoyable friendship among the three sufferers."

"One night-time practice in the dormitory intrigued me greatly until it became commonplace. The 'Big Dorm' in which I slept faced south, protected by beautiful shady trees whose higher branches reached above the roof. Some boys often saved their 'Chapel bricks' (the fairly solid biscuits prepared by the kitchen staff for our afternoon tea, as an occasional change from the mundane bread and jam). They bored a hole through the centre of a biscuit, firmly attached a long piece of string, and after 'lights out' threw it out among the branches. Eventually a possum was enticed into the dormitory, the windows were closed and chaos was instituted - twenty boys vociferously chasing one poor, distressed possum around the dorm. Before long, of course, the Master on duty would appear and one or two seats would be warmed. In only pyjamas it was painful - but a relatively small price to pay for the good time had by all."

"Mr H A 'Willy Gob' Brown was Housemaster of School House, and Mr Collisson 'Digger' was his assistant. The Headmaster, Canon P U Henn 'Toke', held and deserved the respect of all. He was reputed to have a whip - a 'toke' of rhinoceros hide from which he took his nickname. It was supposed to be used only as a last resort, but in fact it did not exist."

"GGS was run by the Masters, with the aid of some dozen or so Prefects. To preserve discipline outside school hours these latter were entrusted with certain powers of punishment - mainly the cane. A boy caught committing some serious misdemeanour, such as 'out of bounds' or smoking, was summoned by a Junior Prefect to the Star Chamber of a Prefects' Meeting behind closed doors. While the matter was being considered, the miscreant waited outside in the corridor, jeered at by all and sundry - in due course to appear before his judges for a warning, a 'gating' or, in more serious cases, a caning by the Head Prefect with the approval of the Headmaster.

The were numerous canings in my time, but the punishment was more often a 'gating', or a short confinement to the School grounds. The system worked extremely well, and with Prefects on the prowl at all times, not much was missed! Punishments by a Master usually meant a caning or 'lines' - the former more painful but the latter more consuming of one's spare time."

"The Prefect system at Guildford as I knew it from 1922 until 1925 - usually worked well and smoothly. The hierarchy consisted of a Captain of School, a Captain of each House, a Chapel Prefect and a set body of appointed Prefects in the choice of whom, no doubt, the Masters were consulted, but of course the Head had the final say. This little bureaucracy played an important part in the authority and discipline of the School, with the power to inflict minor punishments - although I believe the School Captain was authorised to use the cane in some circumstances. They enjoyed exclusive use of the Prefects Room, and while any meeting was in progress within, a notice on the door proclaimed No Admission on any pretext."

"The right to inflict physical punishment was exercised on we boys (although those on the other end of the cane, probably thought 'enjoyed' a more appropriate verb!) by Masters, and it took the form of cuts administered to the posterior. On the command: 'Touch your toes!' you were 'shot' for any number of strokes from one to the maximum six, according to the severity of your crime or the Master's assessment of it.

Caning was not employed to excess and, with very few exceptions, was accepted as a just and reasonable means of enforcing the rule. Nevertheless, it was common to come upon some miscreant prancing down the corridor from the Masters Common Room, vigorously massaging his hind parts as he pranced.

"Our PT and gym Master 'Dubs', 'Durbs', 'Ramrod' or 'Wiry' Douglas - was virtually Sergeant Major of the School. Previously a Warrant Officer Class I of the Scots Guards, he had retired as Honorary Lieutenant before coming to Australia, and he put more discipline and perhaps more fear into more boys than might be imagined. He taught us to say: 'Good morning, Sir!' and to stand to attention as he strode up to the Chapel, walking-stick in hand. At Morning Assembly parade before Headmaster and Masters arrived, or at parade ground drill, you would sometimes hear him observe to some boy, 'Fooling around on my parade makes a fool of me. See me afterward!' - with those steely blue eyes and bristling moustache, and rigid finger which, when he pointed it at you, almost touched your face; and as often as not a couple of whacks on the bottom with his cane to remind you of what was to come later."

"The slope below the old science block remains in my memory as the scene of an incident involving Chippington, one of our experts in amateur explosion. He had been experimenting in the chemistry lab, trying to make a substance called 'Pharoah's Serpent' which, when it was ignited, was expected to ooze out of its container like snakes.

Watched by me, Chippington put some of it in a boiling-tube, carried it to a log on the slope, and ignited it via a long trail of the mixture. He must have got the formula wrong however. He had synthesised a very rapid explosive - unfortunately at about milking time for the School's dairy herd. Alarmed by the violent explosion, one of the cows being milked reared up and overturned the bucket - and the milkman. He came roaring up the slope waving the bucket around his head. The fracas was overheard by the Duty Master, and the upshot was six on the behind for Chippington - and detention for me as an interested spectator."

"Naturally we had, at Guildford, a number of students who for various reasons stood out from the ruck. Bill Elphick was one, a very capable sportsman who was in the First XVIII when (in 1929-30) he was only fifteen. It did not save him from the 'Digger'. On one occasion he approached the School notice-board where teams for 'Cup matches' were posted, and found that he had been left out.

'Well!' he exclaimed loudly, in disgust, 'I'll be buggered!'

'Oh, no, you won't!' said the very strict 'Digger' Collisson, who happened to be passing behind him. 'You'll get up to my room, Elphick!'

Which Bill did - and received two of the best across the backside for swearing."

"Also, caning was a punishment adopted by most Masters - a caner's skill (paradoxically highly admired by the boys) being reckoned by how closely he was able to lay the six or so marks on a bottom. On one not-to-be forgotten occasion, the whole School was paraded in the assembly hall to watch a boy bend over on the rostrum to receive a public caning from the Headmaster."

"The newly-arrived sprogs weren't the only target of pranksters. Newly-appointed House Prefect Doug Pope slept at one end of 'B' Dorm, and one night his bed was apple-pied with confetti. Next morning he jumped from the sheets like a leopard and left a trail of confetti all the way to the bathroom: I don't know if he enjoyed the stunt, but still he punished us. My own turn came one evening when, also as a new House Prefect, it was my duty to supervise prep'. When everyone was settled, I realised I'd left the roll card in George Beere's office nearby. Fred Robinson, a senior boy, was seated near the door, so I asked him to get it for me. Confronting George Beere, Fred (who was a stutterer) said: 'S-s-s-s-sir, B-b-b-Bullock sent m-m-m-m-me...' Before he could convey the rest of his message, George ordered: 'Bend over, Robinson!' and delivered two of the best. It was the old ploy - those two probably made up for a couple he should have got at some time, but didn't."

"I made my first contact with 'Digger' when I joined his House in the late 1930s. I was told that the years had mellowed him, and the white hair around his bald patch added to his dignity and quiet charm.

Among the many memories I have of him is his firm but just discipline - he tolerated no nonsense from anyone. In this respect, I recall particularly the night when another boy and I dragged out of bed one who was suffering from a bad cough and was keeping us awake. We dumped him in a clothes basket at the end of the dormitory, bundling his bedclothes on top of him to stifle his cries of outrage. 'Digger' overheard the noise in his residence adjoining the House, and came in.

After admitting our guilt, my companion and I were ordered to bend over our beds for a thorough caning. Next morning, as usual 'Digger' came through the dormitory to rouse us out of bed, in his pyjamas and dressing gown, humming an obscure tune while he lathered his face with shaving cream. He held no malice against the renegades of the night before, and only our sore tails reminded us of the incident."

"Only once did I ever incur the 'Digger's' wrath. One Alec Chidgzey had a terrible cough, and getting sick of it - it was keeping us awake - Cecil Pritchard and I picked him up and stuffed him into one of the huge clothes baskets, bedclothes and all. Summoned by the noise, the ever-alert 'Digger' came into the dorm and found poor Alec struggling to get out of his predicament. When Cecil and I owned up, he bent us over the end of our beds and - in the middle of the night - gave us four each for our trouble. It was some time before I got to sleep!"

"The PT Master, 'Jock' Woolgar, did not get along with the Head, and was dismissed some years later for peeing in the hedge in front of the Headmaster's residence. If 'Jock' caught you with your hands in your pockets you had to sweep out the gym or - at worst - take a belting with a leather strap which he called his 'Gunga Din'."

"Punishment was not always simply confinement to one's room or the sacrifice of a treat. Corporal punishment was the norm in the schools in the 1930s, and those in charge had almost carte blanche to take advantage of it. Target areas were usually bottoms, the backs of hands, palms and, occasionally, in the case of desperate domines, the shoulders or upper backs. Canes, sticks of various kinds, and wooden rulers were generally used, but sometimes a more exotic whacker might be favoured.

Prep Headmaster Alexander Todd employed a hard leather sandal held by the heel - Javanese, according to Eric Keech, who came from that area. Most boys, but particularly those in Senior School, preferred the cuts to other punishments. Caning was short, sharp and generally 'clean', and often was referred to as being 'shot' - perhaps an indirect reference to the military firing squad. In Prep, 'Gab' Braithwaite had a veritable quiver of canes, curly sticks, large rulers, and even black boy spears which he often marked with coloured chalks to create a rainbow effect on the bottoms of those smitten. He claimed that Archimedes' principle was 'Put it in at the bottom and it comes out the top' - or chastise the pupil on the tail and the knowledge will come out the mouth. Sometimes, 'Gab' would order a boy to report in his room after school. Ordered to 'bend over', the boy would comply, heart beating wildly in anticipation of the first blow.

After a few hour-long seconds, however, again would say something like: 'Stand up! You're not a bad boy - this time I'm going to let you off !' Scurrying away, the pardoned miscreant would probably feel more soundly punished than if he had been 'shot'.

Masters who could lay down a neat 'group' of stripes were admired, any haphazard pattern being considered weak - so we often wondered how new, inexperienced Masters learned to use the cane. Did they seek advice from their older colleagues? In concealment, did they watch some expert in action? Did they practise on a cushion or a chair? There is no doubt that new-chum whackers were often nervous - perhaps because the boy receiving the 'cuts' was - obviously - nervous too! When a boy had been 'shot' by a new Master he was expected to repair immediately to the nearest dunny, there to bare all for inspection by boys already assembled to assess the new chum's style. 'Cuts' blossomed into red, black or blue lines which in a few days faded to tones of yellow. Boys occasionally resorted to a selection of anti-pain devices. The 'two pairs of underpants' was about the only one to miss detection, but I recall one boy who put an exercise book down his pants. It was so obvious, and provoked so much laughter, that he finally went to his 'shootings' with unprotected, fatalistic fortitude.

I cannot recall any boy, other than myself, suffering real injury from a caning - and in my case, it was entirely my own fault. During one mid-morning PT period on the hard, bare, clay ground near the Chapel, I was performing with insolent lassitude something like legs-astride-with-arms-upward-swing. School House Prefect 'Taffy' Telford was in charge, but suddenly 'Jock' Woolgar, the gym Master, roared from afar: 'Timperley! See me after - in my office!' I reported, and was taken to the room which housed the weighing machine, the height scale and other gear - it reeked of sweaty old boxing gloves and Embrosac liniment. 'Jock' fired off a string of gibberish out of which I deciphered little until '... nowben'overthere.'

Bend over I did, and received three well-placed cuts, but I had not moved my arms far enough forward out of the way of the cane. As I stood up to go, 'Jock' and I were mutually shocked to see broken skin oozing blood across both my wrists. I felt sorry for Mr Woolgar - if this 'got out', his reputation as a good shooter was wrecked. I was sent immediately to Matron Bolger, who put iodine on the slashes (additional pain, but deserved) and we three kept the whole thing a secret."

"The School Prefects, headed by the Captain of School, were the disciplinarians at middle management' level, looked up to by the Senior boys but demigods in the eyes of the Juniors - especially when on appropriate occasions they would wear their honour blazers of dark blue piped with white striped edging, and encrusted with symbols denoting the wearer's prowess in the field of sport; crossed rifles for shooting, a hurdle for athletics, Roman figures for the First XI and the First XVIII, crossed oars for the rowers, and so on. They kept a close eye on all, and turned a highly-tuned ear to the ground, exchanging notes on the conduct and demeanour of this or that boy, debating whether or not he should be invited to appear before them for a friendly little chat. Word soon spread of any formal Prefects' meeting, because this meant that something really serious was under discussion.

The Captain of School, at the pinnacle of Prefectorial power, was permitted to cane a boy if the Prefects in conclave decided it to be merited. In that case, the Captain would repair to the Headmaster's study to obtain the cane. He would them deliver the 'cuts' in the presence of the Prefects, and the details of crime and punishment would be entered in the Prefects' Book. The cane would then be returned to the Headmaster.

FEELINGS OF REMORSE?

In maturity, some ex-prefects possibly felt remorse at the memory of their treatment of various boys. I know of one Captain of School, a valued friend of longstanding and a former colleague of mine, who freely expressed regret at having beaten one small, rather bewildered boy over some relatively trivial transgression. The Acting-Headmaster who supplied the cane on that occasion gently counselled: 'I think you are making a mistake.' But, respecting the right of the Prefects to make their own judgment, he said no more.

A modern psychologist might have something derogatory to say about the 'crime and punishment' system under which we in the 1930s lived, often from an early age; but I think it worked for most of us, sometimes at a cost to those who inflicted it on us - and they should be honoured for that."

"It was suspected that someone had stolen a camera from a Senior School student - behaviour particularly deprecated in any closed community such as army, ship's company, commercial office - or school.

One day, after a week or so of uneasiness and speculation, we were marched, without explanation, straight from Chapel into the assembly hall. In House formations we stood more or less at ease while the Masters, in their best gowns, arranged themselves against a wall.

Capped and gowned, the head, Canon Freeth, mounted the dais, his face expressionless. Drawing himself to his full, impressive height he announced in sepulchral tones that 'a boy' had admitted to the theft: and, in chilling tones, that that boy will come forward! Instantly we knew we were to witness a 'public shooting', that rarest of events, when corporal punishment was administered before the entire School.

The sound of footsteps echoed from the rear of the hall as, with wooden walk, the unhappy culprit made his way toward the dais. His glance was fixed straight ahead, his face was a grey, emotionless pudding. At a whispered word from Canon Freeth he mounted the stage, bent and touched his toes and as if by magic, from somewhere in the sleeve of his gown, the Head produced the cane. In complete sympathy with the bowed miscreant we braced ourselves for the 'cuts'. Swish... whack! Swish... whack!... six times the cane rose and fell in dreadful deliberation. Another whispered word from the Head and 'the boy' straightened up and quit the dais: red-eyed but not 'blubbing' he made his way back to his place.

With dignified demeanour Canon Freeth withdrew (cane again concealed) and the Masters followed slowly, heads bowed like mourners leaving a graveside. In our own little GGS world, as in the great outside, it was necessary that justice should be seen to be done - and that is what had happened.

Shouted commands! Marching feet, in quick time! Dismissed in the sunshine! Universal relief!"

"In my student days Guildford Grammar School was an old-fashioned Church School with very straitlaced ideas. When I left School in 1940 I had achieved little which was notable other than in the area of misbehaviour, and a record for the 'cuts' from numerous Masters. I now realise than my nine Guildford years taught a great deal to a reluctant, if not rebellious, student.

My adult return to participation in the School's affairs was most pleasant and rewarding, and has led me to the firm conclusion that the ethos and traditions of schools such as Guildford must not be allowed to lapse."

"I 'got mine' one Sunday morning, around five, when I found myself sprawled with a few of my mates under my upturned bed on the floor. Noise, of course, but when the Housemaster appeared, seeking a few scalps, the culprit was 'sound asleep' in his bed - leaving the rest to cop 'six of the best' later in the day."

As I walked down the corridor from 'Digger' Collisson's office, I reflected that there were more agreeable ways to start a day than by having four well-placed and stinging strokes applied to one's backside. Somewhat grudgingly I reflected also that 'Digger' was absolutely correct, and that I deserved what I had received.

This was the finale to a series of events in 1940-41 when Guildford Grammar was in the grip of an epidemic of German measles. One Sunday morning I woke up in my dormitory in Henn's House with the prospect of going home for the day, but also with a slight, persistent cough and mildly burning cheeks - both symptoms of the dreaded G M! My suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when I whipped into the shower - the expected rash was developing on my chest, and clearly at that point I should have reported to sick bay. I decided to dress and go over for breakfast, however - I had suddenly become aware of prospective good fortune. German measles, three weeks to the end of term, and a day exert which would allow me to go home where I could spend my five weeks' holiday!

As I ate breakfast there was much conflict between the Angel of Truth and the Devil, but somewhat predictably the latter won the day. So it was back to Henn's to pack pyjamas, razor, etc - a planning detail which, coupled with inexperience in guile and cunning, led to my undoing.

In due course I arrived home at Bishop's House, and lost no time in showing my sister the symptoms I had 'suddenly discovered'. At that point my father arrived home and my sister left me to discuss the situation with him. With total dismay I heard his response. 'Indeed not! Guildford Grammar School is far better equipped than we are to handle Philip's illness. He may have lunch here, after which you can drive him back to School!' I must confess I was filled with very harsh and uncharitable feelings toward him.

Back at School, at Henn's House, I was met by 'Digger' Collisson, the Housemaster. My father had phoned him earlier, an act of courtesy and communication which nevertheless I felt, rightly or wrongly, added further to my problems. It was probably the 'Digger's' long experience of the wiles and cunning of schoolboys which kept him hanging about, and I wished he would go and pull up some weeds, or practise his golf, or walk the dog. Finally I just had to unpack my case in front of him, and its contents were not lost on him. His comment left me in no doubt as to what was in store for me. 'I find it strange that on a day exert you should have found it necessary to pack your pyjamas and toilet gear,' he intoned, ominously. 'Report to the sick bay now, and we will discuss this more fully when you are discharged!' When, finally cured of the G M, I reported to his office, there was little discussion, no lively exchange of views. I was simply invited to drape myself over the arm of the sofa in his office as he selected a cane and proceeded to administer four well-aimed strokes where it would do most good. Mentally, I awarded him ten out of ten for grouping, and the same for accuracy.

When I straightened up he looked at me and said simply: 'I hope, Le Fanu, that will reinforce in your mind my attitude toward deceit!' As I stated at the beginning - he was absolutely correct!"

All stood in awe of the Rev R E Freeth, the very model of a Headmaster - tall, spare, beak-nosed, piercing of eye, his voice rumbling with modulated menace; or so it appeared to the guilty conscience. His mere presence induced instant order and well-mannered discipline - amply demonstrated one afternoon when a Fifth Form music class in the dining hall got out of hand. The culmination came when the Music Master, Eric Palmer, took two of the ringleaders across the road to his office and gave each six of the best. The rest of the class gathered noisily near the entrance gate, counting aloud as the strokes echoed across the road, and cheering the chastised as they emerged. At least they started to cheer. Suddenly, the Headmaster appeared from the old Assembly Hall, obviously having heard the uproar. He walked silently by the boys as though on an afternoon stroll - and looked at them. A silence more deafening than the preceding din fell like a fog. Instant order. I discovered afterward what was already widely accepted: that Bishop Freeth was a kindly and eruditely amusing man."

"Another famous 'Camel' exploit electrified the Upper IVB classroom when some of we Lower IVB boys were lodged with the Uppers for a period under the eye of Harry 'Uck' Gladstones. I was slightly ill at ease among the famed, undisciplined, anti-scholarship farmers' sons of Upper IVB and, sure enough, 'Camel' decided to show his paces. Before 'Uck's arrival he tied a length of braided electrician's wire to the Master's desk on a dais in front of the blackboard - in those days a combined desk and chair joined by solid timber joists. He laid the wire down the aisle between the desks and took up his station at the back of the room. Harry Gladstones arrived, and seated himself at the desk. With what can be described only as a roar, 'Camel' and another boy grabbed the wire and heaved mightily on it - with the result that 'Uck' and desk landed with a crash on the front desks below the dais.

The room erupted in wild, incredulous mirth, especially from us visitors but of course Harry Gladstones was not amused. Justly v crimson with rage, he wheeled 'Camel' and his accomplice out of class and headed for the Masters' Common Room. The helpers received four cuts each, but when 'Camel' asked 'Uck' if he would like a box to stand on to administer the punishment, he got an extra two."

"In my day at Guildford (1941), the end of first term used to be cross-country time. The runners turned left at the Woodbridge Hotel and continued toward Bushmead, crossing several waterways en route.

One of the creeks carried the effluent from the Midland Abattoirs, and every new boy - anyone who could be caught, in fact - was dumped into this unsavoury soup. In time it became a routine. The Monday and Thursday group dwelt on the Tuesday and Friday lot and threw them in as they came along. Eventually this time-honoured ritual backfired. Someone in the Tuesday to Friday lot told his mother, and she, in turn, told the Head, Canon Freeth. He, in turn, called the School together, condemned the whole fracas, and required those responsible to step forward.

The upshot was that the victimised Tuesday and Friday lot stood in the Assembly Room and watched their persecutors, the Monday and Thursday lot, subjected to a public 'shooting'. With a masterly display of rhythm and stamina, the Head caned in turn every last one of them.

Such use of the cane is now a thing of the past - and one wonders did it really do as much harm as, these days, it is claimed to have done?"

"Apart from bombing practice, 'canyon cricket' was a popular pastime at School House - perhaps, even, because there was an element of danger in it. The 'pitch' was the completely landlocked alley behind the House, between the toilets and St George's. Upper and lower windows along the southern side, and in numerous other places, awaited the assault of the ball - certainly the idea was not to break any of them, but it was tricky.

Inevitably, however, it became bad enough for 'Bim' Brown to decree that while the sport would not be banned, any breakage would henceforth be regarded as a punishable offence. A keen bat-and-ball man himself, 'Bim' would occasionally stand on the landing above the eastern end of the pitch to oversee proceedings. Leaning over the railings to give technical advice and encouragement, he would applaud any good shot. He would also commiserate with any window-breakers, and would invite them up to his study for a 'shooting'. He would dock the cost of repairs from their pocket-money, send them back to the game - with his good wishes - and resume his perch on the balcony."

"Light offenders were whipped on the bottom with Jocks 'Gunga Din', a heavy, specially-oiled, tapered leather thong about eighteen inches long and extremely painful. With each swipe he recited: 'You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!' - and in my opinion, to have been a better man than 'Jock' Woolgar would not necessarily have made 'Gunga Din' any paragon of the virtues!"

"One night after lights out, there was a minor breakdown in supervision in my (the Senior) dorm. It was 'Bim' Brown's night off, the Assistant mater who should have been on duty was nowhere to be found, and neither were the Prefects. Of course, immediately after lights out, mayhem broke out among the thirty-odd boys in the dorm - twenty inside and ten on the veranda. The mother-and-father of a battle ranged for some twenty minutes with pillows and knotted towels. Mattresses and bedding were passed freely through the doors and windows onto the veranda and back, while bed-frames were being used as battering rams. The din built up to the point at which it penetrated the padded, studded door into St George's House, where George was on duty.

An old hand, he recognised the sound immediately, infiltrated through to School House and entered the Senior dorm - all this in the raging darkness. Inside the dorm, he picked his way through the heaving mass and mayhem, unidentified, no doubt copping the same punishment as all other moving objects. Eventually he found the bank of light switches and banged them on. The effect was, to say the least, electrifying, combatants and warlike equipment frozen in midair. In dead silence George turned to the door, muttering through those immobile lips: 'I will see all of you in my study, immediately!' And out he went.

Now, every boy in the School knew George as the deadliest 'shot' he had ever encountered. His grouping was phenomenal - he could 'shoot' a miscreant for six and leave only one mark - although in some cases it just might be a little fuzzy at the edges. Given this known virtuosity, a most unseemly panic ensued among the prospective 'shootees' - boys were ransacking their drawers for extra underpants, folding up handkerchiefs, putting on two dressing-gowns for padding - folded towels were discarded as too bulky and so a dead giveaway.

The next consideration was the pecking order outside George's study - the hopeful having worked it out that after about fifteen or twenty 'shootings', George might be losing some of his punch. There was some heavy horse-trading and calling up of old debts and favours - not to mention a bit of the naked application of weight and power.

Being light, new and inexperienced I found myself sacrificed near the head of the queue, and the slaughter began. The VIPs and the heavyweights at the rear craned their necks to watch the wounded stagger out, and to quiz them as to results. As it eventuated, not only did George identify and remove all illegal padding, but also his incredible eye, stroke and rhythm settled in as he progressed through the line-up; if anything, his efficiency increased so markedly that the state of the last sufferer was probably worse than that of the first. George 'shot' each and every one of us for six, but subsequent, traditional, examination in the dunny showed that none of us could boast more than one mark on his bottom."

"To compensate, we established small vegetable patches 'down on the slope' which, although they were tended with great care, were not abundant producers. On one occasion during an agricultural session, John Harper attacked the dense Guildford clay with a pickaxe and accidentally caught one of the Staff, Miss Minnie Bowra, in his backswing. Miss Bowra was not seriously hurt, and perhaps got a little too-scant sympathy from the gardeners... probably because she always came armed with one or two instruments of reprimand - a thin cane or a sort of miniature cat-o'-nine-tails made from leather bootlaces, with which she would belt transgressors across the calves, a very painful, public and embarrassing punishment."

"Senior School life had a very martial quality compared with that of the more easygoing prep' . During my years at St George's, the Housemasters tended to be bachelors - mainly, I guess, because of the lack of married quarters. I believe this absence of softening feminine influence tended to reinforce the regime of cold showers, roll-call parades and corporal punishment which, in any case, probably did us little harm anyway, although it generated little natural warmth in our situation."

"Jim Magnus was able to turn the tables an even the most astute Master (in one respect, anyway). One August he spent the holidays on our farm - as did many others, at different times, and one morning found an immense feral cat in a trap he had set for rabbits. He skinned it, tanned the hide with its thick white coat, and laboriously made himself a pair of underpants for special occasions. He claimed that it was most effective when he got the cuts, worn fur side in so that the cane still made the recognisable sound not delivered by traditional padding such as exercise books. etc."

"My memories of Prep School centre mainly on Mr Todd, a very stern gentleman, and on two teachers. Miss Gordon was a slim lady, her hair pulled back so tightly into a bun that one might have exacted that a slight tug would have pulled it out at the roots. To me she always appeared somewhat 'ferocious' . Miss Shepherd was a kind, matronly type with wavy hair and glasses - for me, some sort of 'mother figure' of whom I drew pictures which she accepted graciously. I do not recall ever having been punished by her, and she guided me to my first-ever prize - a copy of The Wind in the Willows - awarded for neat writing. Punishments were probably not unduly harsh. I remember a 'ruler behind the knees' - the only bare skin between the trouser bottoms and the tops of the socks."

"I had the pleasure of meeting the Senior School Headmaster, Canon Freeth, when with another boy I was returning from riding instruction on the paddock west of the tennis courts. He explained who he was, and elicited our names, and then invited us to his study; there he selected a cane and delivered three of the best to each of us. Only later did we discover we had been punished for walking on the wrong side of the road!"

"After serving my time at Prep, I opted to become a boarder at School House in the Big School.

I was allotted to Henn's House, although all my friends had gone to St George's, and I felt that my life had been destroyed. Mr Collisson, my new Housemaster, was affable, but he left one in no doubt that any false step would bring its just retribution. In time I was to discover what a true and sincere gentleman he was, and I consider myself fortunate to have known him. He was a strict disciplinarian who could wield a mean cane, but he was truly democratic - he always gave the miscreant a choice of the canes available! I was never punished unfairly, and once it was over it was forgotten.

With Mr Collisson, our pocket-money was as safe as it might have been in any bank. Every penny had to be accounted for, and anyone not present to collect at the appointed time missed out until next disbursement. He obviously had established a very useful spy network, amply attested to on one occasion when, given leave to attend a cricket match at the Western Australian Cricket Association ground, we were 'forced to go to the pictures' because the game was rained out. The escapade was discovered, of course, and we were given the choice of being caned, or being 'gated' for a time. Collisson was that kind of man - he was the best."

It was well known that anyone suspected of failing Latin was blackballed by the Head, Canon Freeth (our tutor), from taking the subject in the Junior examination. Because I wanted to take the exam I spent many an afternoon in the Head's garden reciting from the book while he practised his golf, chipping and putting. This might possibly have led to my interest in golf, but it most certainly did lead to my second and last taste of his cane - for bending back the book's cover. Nevertheless, I passed Junior Latin. Toward the end of 1949, Canon Freeth arranged an aptitude test for prospective School leavers. 'Fancott' he said to me, 'you do not have an aptitude for anything!' How true!."

"I had been caned before by Miss Ashbury, mainly because I couldn't do my arithmetic or because I'd been caught reading books instead of doing homework. But down at the Prep we'd all get the cane - even if we hadn't done anything. The sound of the Headmaster, Mr Hart, doing his rounds and the thwack thwack of bamboo on bare legs getting closer and closer is a sound I still recall with trepidation."

"Once, after two whole classes were caned because a few boys didn't want to learn about the Orient but preferred to muck around instead, we all had to line up and have our bums inspected by Matron Brown. As this was the woman I secretly loved you can imagine how embarrassed I was - as I dare say were most of the other boys."

"Jim Welsh was, as I say, a fair man. He only gave me the cane once and it was like my brother, to whom I am very close, hitting me, or my mother, whom I love with a feeling as wide as the Universe and as complex and beautiful."

Thank you once again for all your work, Dean. It really is much appreciated, despite the fact that it is unlikely to attract a great deal of comment.

Regards to Emma from us lot in Sussex.

Of course, it won't attract much comment. No mention of knickers at all. Virtually no mention of females, either.

For a forum in which so much time seems to be spent complaining about things that certain people (often erroneously) label as fantasy, there really doesn't seem to be a huge amount of interest in clearly factual material.

The problem is everyone knows boys were beaten on a regular basis at school. No one disputes the fact. Any man on this forum over the age of 40 can tell you first hand what it was like.  What we rarely hear about are girls SCP or CP at home.

So although Deans posts are informative, they are just more of the same stuff we all experienced at school ourselves.

The previous message listed as anonymous was by me - I've no idea why my name didn't show up

I agree with your 'anonymous' post, Dean. I realised long ago that serious discussion on CP in schools was of interest to very few of the people contributing here. Just join the club and talk a lot of nonsense, talk about your cats or your pet chimpanzee and you'll get plenty of response!

There is only so much that may usefully be said about the reality of school CP and most of it has already been said many many times by many many people.

Most people in the world have absolutely no interest in the subject and even those who have an interest tend to be uninspired by stories (whether fact or plausible fiction) in which the recipient is male. Basically, when you've heard one true story about a boy receiving school CP, you've heard them all.

M/m school CP is akin to trainspotting - very few people find it interesting and nobody in his right mind finds it fascinating.

Lotta Nonsense seems to be a very self centred child. Cant see anything beyond his own preferences.

For someone who has no interest in the subject, Lotta, you seem to spend a hell of a lot of your time around here.

Lotta draws our attention to the fact that most people in the world have no interest in this subject. Well, yes. Most people in the world have no interest in most subjects. But the world is full of minorities and nearly everybody belongs to at least one of them. Many people have an interest in one or other particular subject, and a message board entitled "School Corporal Punishment" might reasonably be expected to appeal to that minority of the world population, however small, that has an interest in this particular subject. That's almost the whole point of the internet, that it facilitates communication within niche interests of this kind in a way that was not previously possible. Since Lotta clearly does NOT have an interest in this subject, and disapproves of those who do, WTF is she doing here and why is she allowed to keep on making life difficult for those of us who would like to discuss this issue?

Well said.
We are unlikely to get any straight answers from Lotta Nonsense on this or any topic that does not fit his/her twisted agenda.
But we are long overdue for some straight answers from the forum!
John: Why is Lotta Nonsense allowed to keep on making life difficult for those of us who would like to discuss this issue?

John:
When you can spare some time from posting my kinda distractions we would like an answer please.

Big John, our Manager of Images, is presently engaged upon the production of some more distractions, a task from which he cannot be distracted.

I am unable to comment on Lotta Nonsense, except to say that she is wonderful.

Your lack of a sense of responsibility as an administrator of this forum is only exceeded by your lack of impartiality.
This is a serious issue that is not going to go away. Lets have some serious answers please.
Why is Lotta Nonsense allowed to keep on making life difficult for those of us who would like to discuss (school cp)?

Don't you actually have a choice here?

Respond or not to Lotta?

How is it that Lotta is preventing discussion? Has she blanked out your e-mails or anybody elses?

Come on, it's simple-if you don't like her interjections,just ignore them or gently joke about them.

Once you rise to the bait, you must remember that unlike Minnie the Minx, there isn't Dad and a king-size slipper waiting to deal out retribution at the end of this week's thread/story!

And if YOU'VE ever had the last word in an argument with a woman, Gunga Din, you're a better man than I, Newer Member!!


Steve M

I love reading the ridiculous posts of Lotta and life on here would be boring without her.
Lotta said: "M/m school CP is akin to trainspotting - very few people find it interesting and nobody in his right mind finds it fascinating."
********************************************************************
Is that so Lotta?
I'm not gay myself but expect a lot of gay guys would disagree with that comment. I am fascinated by girls being disciplined so it's reasonable to assume that some gay guys are fascinated by boys being disciplined. If Lotta's comment were true it would mean that all the gay guys fascinated by m/m school cp are mad.
This comment is definitely not PC. You can't say things like that about gay guys anymore as they've got rights now.

Steve,

Lotta has accused me of fraud - she's accused me of having an 'imaginary wife' on a number of occasions, and for that matter of having an 'imaginary child' as well. She's accused me of dishonesty. I don't like that for very obvious personal reasons, but I especially don't like it and feel unable to just ignore it on professional grounds. I am a professional historian, with a special interest in the history of education, which involves an interest in the history of disciplinary techniques in schools, of which corporal punishment is a significant historical phenomenon. So when I discuss corporal punishment, there are professional implications. Frankly, I cannot afford to allow my reputation to be attacked in this way, because if people believe the false accusations levelled against me, it could cause me problems with research when I am carrying out such research.

I have been semi-commissioned recently (I do have a commission, but it's one I sought and did the running on) to write a detailed history of school discipline in Australia. Yes, it is a niche interest, but it's actually a reasonably common one. For a lot of people, the interest is probably sexual - and we'll take the revenue and royalties sales to those people generate. But there are a lot of people who are interested for a lot of other reasons. Such disciplinary practices tend to be illustrative of wider trends in education, of social trends, etc.

While I post here under a pseudonym, it's not a particularly secure pseudonym. Quite a number of people know who I am. So attacks on my reputation matter quite a lot potentially in a professional sense. I don't intend to ignore tham and to be honest, given the fact that I suspect that over the years I've been one of the people who has done a great deal to try and provide reasonable on topic information to this group in spite of the slings and arrows my way - I'm not just talking about personal attacks here, I'm also talking about idiotic posts claiming that statements made in the Hansard of the House of Commons showing quite clearly that girls were caned on the bottom in British schools have no evidentiary value, and that the most detailed statistical studies of corporal punishment carried out in British history have no evidentiary value, simply because they don't fit one ill informed persons view of how they believe the world should have been. Any evidence that doesn't match that persons prejudicial beliefs is dismissed, and that is ridiculous.

There's also the very important factor that in the past, my now-wife, wrote down (with my help) two accounts of the corporal punishment she received at her school. One of these accounts concerned an incident of what she regards as emotional, physical, and arguably even sexual abuse - an incident that she feels ultimately damaged her somewhat in a psychosexual sense. It was very traumatic for her to discuss it, and to write it down, but she did so on my advice and on the advice of a counsellor. She did not post it here. Somebody else stole it from another group and posted it here.

And because of that act of theft, apparently condoned by the people who run this forum as they refused requests to remove the document, my wife was exposed to the attacks of certain people claiming that she was male or non-existent. Can you imagine how much that hurt her? She writes about an act that she regards as utter abuse, that made her feel sexually abnormal - and morons call her a man.

It hurt her. And that hurt me, as well, watching her in pain like that.

I don't see that as something to gently joke about. It's cruel.

It's also counterproductive to the supposed purpose of this group. While there are certainly fantasists out there, there are also genuine people with genuine stories to tell. Why would we bother to post them here if we just know we're going to be attacked.

I have posted accounts from my own schooldays here - and I've named the school I attended, for that matter. I don't see any reason to conceal that in my case. My accounts were honest ones of what really happened to me. And I was accused of making them up. Apparently they were too hard for certain people to believe.

Well, what happened to me was not that unusual, nor that out there. I have collected over the last few years quite a few accounts from people who attended similar schools to mine in Australia - some are, I believe, exagerations (though I wouldn't identify one as such without actual evidence to justify that identification), some - including some that I did find rather hard to believe, I have been able to confirm really did happen by speaking to a number of the people involved. There are some odd stories out there that are true. But I don't post them here, because the people who told them to me, don't deserve to be called liars.

What has happened here does have an effect.

Lotta is a bright ray of sunshine in a desperately dark world. I have myself been a victim of her acerbic, acidic wit but i forgive her because she has a great talent to amuse. Sometimes she gets a little obsessive about things, like Fran for instance but no one is perfect. May i request she changes her name back to Sarah Jane as its much nicer than Lotta Nonsense. Thanks to whoever posted the anecdotes of Guildford School, very amusing. I have no interest in trainspotting either.

This is getting pretty pathetic, isn't it? Just how many more jokers are going to crawl out of and into the woodwork?

First we see John from the forum playing peek-a-boo as he deeks and dodges responsibility, posting various unconvincing flavours of let's be jolly as he tries in vain to create a smoke screen to hide behind; then Steve makes the most hopeless attempt yet to be Lotta's Daddy; and then - hey guess what! - just at the time we've had fake posts from Steve in the past, someone hiding behind the hokie-est name in a long time chimes in with an even more daft attempt to make believe he/she loves Lotta!

Why did no one tell me the circus was coming to town?

And to cap it all, the more stable ones who were so fed up of Lotta's garbage a few days ago they were leading the charge burn Lotta at the stake, suddenly decide they can't live without him? (or her, who cares!)

Come on, people, we're adults - don't you realise everyone can see right through this silliness?


If I have time I'll look up some quotes from Lotta and post them - then you can compare Lotta's real behaviour to what the children are saying...




Oh and John... I could be wrong but I think someone's waiting to hear from you...

The account of the corporal punishment referred to above by Dean has now been removed from this forum.

I was surprised when I read the account of the second caning written by Emma and Dean. The part where the teacher has difficulty in raising Emma’s skirt is verging on being porn.

Emma and Dean?

If Dean had anything approaching a sense of humour, surely he would have named his fantasy-wife 'Pearl'?

I didn't read the story in question and I haven't read any of the other Dean postings on this thread.

Dean is entitled to his fantasies but I sincerely hope he doesn't intend to claim Child Benefit for his non-existent newborn. Fantasy is one thing but fiddling the benefits system is quite another.

I have nothing against Australians and am a big fan of Barry Humphries and the chap who used to annoy crocodiles.

"I didnt read the story in question and I havent read any of the other Dean postings on this thread." !!!!!
Yet you appointed yourself judge juror and executioner? You constantly prattle about Dean being a liar?
As always you have no justification for your position beyond a headstrong erroneous belief in your ability to identify cheats. When challenged you have never yet supported your mean spirited accusations with evidence or believable argument.
And you just took a huge step further into the ridiculous by admitting that you ignored the ample evidence on which you could have made a rational appraisal!
You are just an irresponsible destructive child Lotta Nonsense. You have nothing positive to offer this forum except a strangely misfitting grasp of the English language.

Hello to all.
i'm trying to find any information on the Fergusson Stewarts. Is Edmund Dr. James Edmund Fergusson-Stewart, Born in Liborn, Portugal then died in Canarvon, W.A?
All the info we can find is Dr. James Edmund Fergusson-Stewart married Enid Vernon Drake-Brockman. There doesn't seem to be any more! can you please help? anything will help! Thanks.