Brian Pearson

My cousin adjusted better than I did to our new school
He covered up well
He made canoes at dinnertime
And was on first names with a teacher named
Brian Pearson

At weekends he would go to the river with Brian’s chosen few
To splash a rapid or Indian roll away the stone like Mott the Hoople used to
And this saved his life
He told me as much

Brian Pearson did nothing for me
He took us for ART just the one time
Last minute relief teaching his speciality all subjects poorly covered
And sought his revenge on the boys of the class by making them stand with their noses pressed against a board of purple chalk

We hated him for that

A little man with a fat moustache
He looked down his nose at the boys
And up the skirts of the girls

And it wouldn’t surprise me if my cousin is still in touch with him after all these years

We’re sort of different in that respect
He survived the sixth form
I got out as soon as I could

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