Smuggling confectionary, Being Out of Bounds and Rumbles

R has finally met a reputedly wicked teacher and seen her in action;   he has been telling exaggerated eye rolling tales about this woman for six weeks and it turns out he hasn't even seen her.

"But I've seen her now"  says R, "She is really terrible"

"Why, what did she do?" I said, we were eating Saturday lunch (mince with rice and sweetcorn),

"She came running over shouting...and gave one of my friends a detention".

"What for?"

"Having a lollipop in the corridor.  She said it won't do"  (A lollipop, did I hear right?)

"Well, is it against the rules to have a lollipop in the corridor?"

"I don't know, we don't get shown the rules"  (????)

He then told us he now knows why he got caught being in the wrong place, he was being watched on camera, which he says explains why the teacher came charging in so soon after their arrival shouting "Identity papers, detention!".

"What were you doing in this forbidden place?"  asks Papa

"Nothing"

"Why were you there?"

"Don't know"

"So why did you go there?"

"Don't know"

"Did you know it was out of bounds?"

"No"

"Nobody showed you what was out of bounds?"

"No"  (you will noticed that this conversation is reading like the transcript of a police interrogation)

"But do you know now?"

"Yes" he grins (presumably because he's been caught in all of them)

"Well, why is it out of bounds, there must be some reason?" continues Papa, doggedly.

"Because you can escape"

"Escape, escape from school?"

"Yes"

"How?"

"There is a staircase"

"Where does it lead?"

Shrugs "I don't know"

I intervene being the soft guy in the softly softly approach:   "you mean your friends wanted to check out a possible escape route for a future date?"

"I don't know.  No.  In fact (the truth at last) it is a short cut for getting to the school gate without having to go right round the playground..."  he muses "in the playground you can hear shouting and that means there is a fight.  As soon as there's a fight everyone runs over and starts shouting "Baston Baston Baston" (fight rumble fight).  But what I like doing is staying at the edge and looking back, because then you see the teachers come running over."

I can't help visualising the teachers in peaked caps with truncheons and handcuffs.

"How often is there a fight?" asks Papa

"Every day"

"Every day?  NO"

"Yes"

I butt in "You won't hear about any of this from a GIRL, as far as they are concerned none of this happens..."

"And you enjoy it when there's a fight?

"Yes, it's fun."  He grins to himself.

Well I suppose they have to do something to relieve the tedium in the exercise yard.