Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards reinforcements were already at a distance, and increasing the distance. “Sit on him!” “Jump on him!” “Scrag him!” “Gerroff!” raved Coker, struggling wildly. “I’ll smash you! I’ll spiflicate you! Potter, Greene! Where are you? Yaroooh!” Had Coker’s faithless pals backed him up, there would have been something like a battle in the Rag. But with Coker on his own, a dozen Remove men found it quite easy to deal. Coker, pinned to the floor by five or six fellows sitting or standing on him, could only rave. Little more of him than his red infuriated face remained on view. “Now, you fathead!” hooted Wibley, taking hold of Coker’s rather prominent nose between finger and thumb, and tweaking the same. “What do you mean by interrupting our rehearsal?” “Oooooch! Led do by dose!” spluttered Coker. “Ha, ha, ha!” “Oooogh! Didn’t I tell you to chuck ‘Hamlet’?” gasped Coker. “Didn’t I tell you I wouldn’t let you? Well, you’re going to chuck it, see? I’m going to see that you do! I’ll wallop the lot of you. I’ll—wooooch! Will you let go my nose? Wooogh!” “Ha, ha, ha!” “I’m playing Hamlet myself, as you jolly well know—.” “Ha, ha, ha!” “You wouldn’t like to play ‘Othello’ instead?” asked Smithy. “No, I wouldn’t! Leggo.” “That’s a pity, for you’re going to! Keep him tight, you fellows, while I -get some soot from the chimney.” “Ha, ha, ha!” There was a yell of laughter as the Bounder raked down soot from the chimney. Coker made a frantic effort to break loose. But there were too many hands grasping him. Coker was safely held. His brawny arms, his sinewy legs, the back of his collar, his tousled hair, were all grasped, and Coker could do nothing but splutter. “Go it, Smithy!” “Make him up!” “Ha, ha, ha!” “Keep that away from me,” shrieked Coker. “If you dab that soot on me, I’ll—I’ll—-grooooooogh.” There was no help for Coker. The Bounder, with a shovel-full of soot in one hand, and a duster in the other, proceeded to “make up” Coker as Othello. Soot was spread over his crimson and perspiring face, and well Page 74 of 161
Billy Bunter’s Benefit By Frank Richards rubbed in. Some went into his nose, and some into his mouth, and Coker gurgled horribly. There were yells of laughter as Coker grew blacker and blacker. His face was as black as the ace of spades. His ears, his neck, were blackened in turn. The remnant of the soot was rubbed into his hair. Coker did not, perhaps, look much like Othello: but he looked a great deal like a Hottentot, and still more like a chimney-sweep. “Think that will do, you fellows?” asked Smithy, surveying Coker with great admiration when he had finished. “Ha, ha, ha!” “Ooooogh!” Coker spluttered soot, “I—I——I’ll— woooogh!” “That will be a lesson to you, Coker,” chuckled Bob Cherry. “The lessonfulness will be terrific, my esteemed idiotic Coker.” “Ooooooooooogh!” “Now kick him out!” said Wibley. “Ha, ha, ha!” The door was thrown open. Coker was bundled towards it, breathlessly spluttering fury and soot. “Leggo!” gurgled Coker. “Leggo! I—I can’t go like this—look at me—!” “Ha, ha, ha!” “You young villains—.” “Kick him out!” “I tell you I can’t—!” shrieked Coker. The sooting was bad enough. But the prospect of facing the school in that sooty state was worse. “Look here, I’ve got to have a wash—you young scoundrels—oh, crumbs!” Coker went whirling through the doorway into the passage. He sprawled there, spluttering. The doorway was packed with grinning faces. “Good-bye, Coker!” “Ha, ha, ha!” Coker sat up. “You young villains! You—you-—you—I—I—I’ll—.” “Ha, ha, ha!” The door of the Rag slammed on Coker. He scrambled to his feet. He was tempted to hurl open the door again, and charge back into the Rag. But even Coker realised that he had had enough. It was borne in upon his mind that what he chiefly needed was a wash before he was seen in his present extraordinary state. With deep feelings, Coker postponed vengeance, and turned away. A fat junior, coming down the passage, gave Coker a startled blink through a big pair of spectacles, and uttered a howl of alarm. “Oh, crikey! Who’s that? Help!” Billy Bunter stayed only for one startled look at that wild-looking figure Page 75 of 161
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Billy Bunter's Benefit By Frank Richards - Friardale

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