The History of the Nude

Halford thought I was queer because I had put my arm round him. Put my arm round him to support him! The very same Halford who was wandering naked with me around the bathroom not two nights previously. The Halford who taught me how to shut my cock in a door. The Halford who did a backward somersault naked on the floor at me and pushed his finger up his arse, giggling. He thought I was queer? Queer for putting an arm round him when he had cramp? Jesus. I stumbled to a back stairway to try and find a private place to go and weep. I had got no further than the first landing when I walked straight into the hairy tweed jacket of Mr Bruce, history master and quondam internee of the Japanese Army. ‘Hello, hello, hello! What’s up here?’ The tears were streaming down my face and it was no good pretending it was hay fever. Racked with sobs, I explained about Halford's cramp and the disgust I had apparently caused him when just trying to be helpful. I did not, of course, mention our night time prowls in the nude, the sheer hypocrisy of Halford’s reaction, the unfairness and injustice and cruelty of which was what had really knocked me for six ...»