February 2012
'I must say that old Johnny with Bunter certainly looks the part of one of his well-off relations he's always telling us about.' said Harold Skinner of the Remove form at Greyfriars, 'Perhaps this time it's not the fat ass's gammon and the old boy will actually give him a tip.'
'If so, perhaps the prize porker will be worth cultivating.' said his equally unscrupulous study mate, Sidney Snoop.
'I think it very bad form to speak of our chum Bunter in those terms.' said Skinner indignantly, 'It's true that he may be a bit unveracious and a trifle lazy and perhaps he might wash a bit more. Still, if his uncle tips him £15 or £20, well – personally I've always thought him a very fine fellow.'
'Goodbye, William. I'll send you the postal order nearer your birthday.' said Bunter's uncle George to the fat schoolboy, before taking his departure.
It certainly seemed to Skinner and Snoop that this member of the Bunter tribe was indeed the genuine goods. As they had surmised, it would pay them to keep on Bunter's good side now in the hope of sharing his good fortune later.
'Hello, Billy.' said Skinner affectionately, 'Had your tea yet?'
'Only doorsteps and dishwater in Hall.' said Bunter.
'We're going to Mrs. Mimble's tuck shop. I understand she's got some new éclairs and meringues in. Care to join us?'
Bunter could not believe his ears. Those fellows who had previously jeered at him or kicked him on sight were actually inviting him to tea with them, at the school tuck shop. Could it possibly have something to do with his uncle's visit?
'Right you are, fellows,' said Bunter, 'count me in.'
Skinner and Snoop were of course using a sprat to catch a mackerel, but nevertheless at the rate Bunter travelled through cake after cake, the two bad hats of the Remove were beginning to wonder whether it would really be worth it, when Bunter's riches finally arrived.
'I say, you fellows, this is splendid, although not of course anything like the spreads we get at Bunter Court.' said the fat owl.
'Of course not, old chap.' said Skinner, knowing that Bunter Court was in fact the more humble Bunter Villa in reality.
'When my uncle sends my postal order for my birthday, I'll treat you fellows to some even bigger spreads.' This was music to the bad hats' ears. 'I believe I've told you fellows I was expecting a postal order.'
Indeed they had. Bunter's celebrated postal order had been expected for whole terms, but sometimes never turned up.
'I say, you fellows, I've just remembered that Quelch gave me two hundred lines of Virgil to hand in by 6 o'clock and I haven't quite finished them. Would you be pals and help me finish them off?'
'How many have you actually done?'Skinner asked suspiciously.
'Well, five actually.'
'Five!' said Skinner and Snoop simultaneously.
'Well, don't worry,' said Bunter, 'I'm sure I can find some other pals who will help me out.'
'Hang on, Billy,' said Skinner desperately, 'we'll . . . we'll be only too glad to finish the lines off for you, won't we, Snoopy?'
Snoop just grunted. However, looking on the bright side, at least this would call a halt to the rapid exhaustion of the incorrigible pair's depleted funds at the tuck shop.
So it was that the two conspirators finished Bunter's lines for him by disguising their 'fists' to look like a spider had crawled into the inkwell and left a trail of blots and smudges on the page. Needless to say, the astute fat owl only contributed about twenty of the total lines.
Next Wednesday at break, Bunter scanned the letter rack as usual, but, wonder of wonders, this time there was a missive for him, addressed in the avuncular hand.
'Look, you fellows,' he shouted across to Skinner and Snoop, 'my uncle's postal order has arrived.'
'Come on then, Billy' exclaimed Snoop, 'Let's see how much he's sent – I mean what he has to say.'
Bunter's grubby paws tore open the envelope and just for a moment Skinner had visions of there being no postal order, but no, Bunter held up a postal order for £15!
'Who said the age of miracles was past, my beloved pals?' laughed Bob Cherry.
Suddenly, though, a change came over Bunter's beaming countenance.
'Oh, lor!' said the lugubrious owl of the Remove.
'What's up?' asked Snoop.
'I say, you fellows, my uncle must have mixed up the postal orders. This one's made out to Saxon & Co.'
A glimmer of hope arose in Bunter's two new friends. If this were the case, all Bunter had to do was contact uncle George and the mistake could be rectified. Next moment, however, their dreams of sharing Bunter's largesse were dashed forever.
'Oh, crumbs!' said the fat owl, 'He says that the £15 is to pay the bike shop at Courtfield for repairs to my bike. I'm to take the bike and the postal order there after class. And I thought he was sending me something I could spend on a slap up feed.'
'Ha, ha, ha!' yelled the Remove.
'You useless cormorant!' yelled Skinner.
'You piffling porker!' echoed Snoop.
'I - I say, I thought we were pals.' wailed Bunter.
'Think again, you cunning fat gormenghast!' Skinner was livid now. 'To think we've fed that brainless porker and listened to his endless piffle about his non-existent titled relations and even done hisd lines for him – and all for nothing.' Harold Skinner was inconsolable.
'Ha, ha, ha!' yelled the Removites again.
'Well, all I can say is you've only got yourselves to blame, old bean.' laughed Bob Cherry, 'You've got well and truly landed.'
'Well at least we've got the satisfaction of taking it out on that fat idiot's hide.' snarled Skinner.
'I - I say, don't let's row, you fellows. I - I'm expecting another postal order from my uncle Lord Bunter de Grunter.'
'Cut that cackle, you bumbling bandersnatch.' said Snoop, 'You're going to have the hiding of your life.'
Bunter anticipated that the next part of the proceedings was going to be a painful one. His anticipations were fully realised.
The Remove form were treated to the sounds of leather contacting trousers as Bunter was kicked up the stairs and then dribbled to the Remove landing. The last sounds they heard were Bunter's desperate cries of, 'If you fellows kick me again, I can jolly well say, 'Yarooh!''
Thus did Bunter's dreams of riches turn to rags.