British Bulldog

I cannot begin to talk about George and his stick-eating ways just at the moment - it is too painful.

So, here is what is happening at school. Mrs Trundle has come back from her course, 'A Way In - really communicating with your class' and is bothering everybody with excessive smiling and 'how are yous?' She seems to have given up the idea of a. being a part time assassin b. using school money to go on educating foreign trips c. being generally horrible.
It's all pretty disturbing.

I decide it is time to test this new niceness.
'Let's play British Bulldog,' I say to Dexter. We are mooching about in the playground, kicking the tiny stones we can scuff up from the tarmac.
'It's banned,' says Dexter.
I shrug.
'I see your point - maybe if we just have a couple of boys each,' says Dexter.
'Well, just don't tell everybody,' I say, 'you know what happened last time.'
He looks blank for a moment and then the light goes on. 'We got banned. I'll be Captain.'
'Me too,' I say, 'I did think of it.' I run off to find players, I want to get all the good ones before Dexter does.
I find Tyler and Itisham and Polish Jacob. Tyler does rugby and knows about charging about. We choose our home. It is the brown bit of grass underneath the office window. Dexter has the netball semi circle. Ha. We all come together in the middle. Polish Jacob, who is Polish and has no idea what is going on, agrees to be the bulldog.
'Just remember,' I whisper, 'no shouting, no really big hitting and don't say British Bulldog out loud.'
'But we still have to say "British Bulldog 1, 2, 3!" when we catch someone,' says Dexter.
'Call it 'Stripey Jumpers', says Tyler, who knows a thing or two about stripey jumpers.
'Agreed!' I say, 'Let's play!'
And that's when it starts going slightly wrong.