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Updated: May 27, 2025
Stockbrew bent over the chain that ran round two sides of the green. Rudd delivered two fairly accurate shots. Stockbrew stirred uncomfortably. He had dim recollections of Claremont reading a poem by Mrs Browning on "the great God Pan" and how cruel it was to "make a poet out of a man!" He saw her meaning now. Then the farce began.
Now a certain Stockbrew, imagining himself a poet, immortalised the occasion with the following stirring lyric: "Ruddy-doodle went to town In his little suit of brown, As he could not find his purse He cried aloud, 'Oh, where's my nurse?" Like the famous quatrain The Purple Cow, this poem immediately achieved a success totally out of proportion to its merits. It was passed slowly down the table.
Then next morning Stockbrew presented himself at Rudd's study. He was terribly overcome at the sight of so formidable a gathering. He wished he had padded. No one had told him of what was to happen. It would have spoilt the situation. The prefects sat in chairs round the room; Rudd, terribly nervous, was perched on the table.
Good lord, man, can't you look after yourself in hall. Jolly ignominious, isn't it, having to call up a lot of prefects to back you up? Fine example to the rest of the House, isn't it?" "Well," stammered Rudd, "I don't pretend to be a strong prefect." "You certainly aren't," said Foster. "That's beside the point," said Rudd. "I have been cheeked by Stockbrew, and I am a prefect.
He delivered as short a lecture as possible on the sacredness of the prefectorial dignity and the insignificance of the day-room frequenter. In a procession they moved to the V. A green. Stockbrew led, Rudd followed, cane in hand. It was all very impressive.
That night in second hall Rudd called a prefects' meeting to discuss the affair. He pointed out that it was gross insolence to a prefect, and that a prefects' beating was the recognised punishment for such an offence. Gordon protested vehemently. "But, damn it all, Rudd, if you are such a weak-kneed ass as to be ragged by a fool like Stockbrew, you jolly well oughtn't to be head of the House.
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