All material on this site is copyright (c) Ian David Barker - 1990-2009

Moronic Martin Meets His Match


‘Sam’s got a girlfriend! Sam’s got a girlfriend!’ Moronic Martin repeated the taunt over and over. ‘Sam’s got a girlfriend!’

Sam, hot and flustered, walked on and tried to ignore him, but the chanting continued relentlessly a few paces behind.

‘Sam’s got a girlfriend!’

Then, Lardy Larry joined in with a fresh, and even more infantile, chorus. ‘Sam and the new girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’

Moronic Martin laughed at this, then they both began to recite together. ‘Sam and the new girl . . .’

Sam stopped and whirled around to confront them.

‘. . . sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’ Lardy Larry stabbed Sam’s chest with a stubby finger to emphasise the rhythm.

The new girl had started on Monday. Mrs Lodge introduced her to the class at morning registration. Her name was Helen, she had short, dark hair, and a blazer that looked like it had been bought for someone two sizes bigger. Sam temporarily christened her Hapless Helen, until he could come up with something better. Girls only existed on the fringes of Sam’s twelve-year-old world, so she might be stuck with Hapless Helen for quite some time.

It was dinnertime on Friday before he noticed her again. She stood by the science block, alone and looking lost. Sam knew what it was like to be new, to move to a different school and not to know anyone, not to have any friends. It had happened to him in the past, so he went over to try and offer some consolation.

‘Hello,’ he said. ‘It’s tough starting a new school isn’t it? Don’t worry, you’ll soon fit in and make new friends.’

‘I won’t,’ said Hapless Helen, ‘I won’t ever. I hate this school and everyone in it.’ A single tear worked its way from the corner of her eye and ran down her cheek.

Sam would have offered her a tissue, but the one in his trouser pocket had been there for two days and was all crumpled and snotty. So he did what he did when his little sister cried, he put an arm round Helen’s shoulders and squeezed gently. At that moment, Moronic Martin and Lardy Larry, the Dumb Duo, had come around the corner.

‘Why don’t you take her behind the bike sheds and do a proper job?’ smirked Moronic Martin.

Year elevens went behind the bike sheds to. . . Actually, Sam wasn’t sure what they went there to do, but it was obviously something that year eights didn’t go in for. ‘Get lost,’ Sam said.

Much to Sam’s surprise the Dumb Duo wandered off. He hoped that would be the end of it, but he should have known better.

Friday afternoon’s first lesson was double English. Mr Salmon always made them sit in boy, girl, boy, girl formation, and Sam ended up next to Hapless Helen. Each time the teacher’s back was turned, Moronic Martin looked at Sam and leered.

‘Doesn’t he like you?’ whispered the new girl.

‘Martin doesn’t like anyone,’ said Sam.

‘Silence in class!’ said Mr Salmon, fixing Sam with a sizzling death-ray glare.

‘. . . K-I-S-S-I-N-G!’ Lardy Larry’s fat finger stabbed Sam’s chest again and his piggy features formed into a smirk.

‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ said Sam hotly. ‘I only spoke to her.’ He turned and tried to walk away, but Moronic Martin caught the strap of his bag and pulled him back.

Martin stood a head taller than Sam and looked down at him with his cold, grey eyes. He took hold of Sam’s tie. He didn’t pull it – as Sam expected – but straightened it, gently, like Sam’s mum did before he set off for school. ‘Got to look your best to kiss your girlfriend,’ said Moronic Martin.

‘I’m not going to kiss her,’ said Sam. He wanted to cry, but he knew he mustn’t let himself as that would only make them worse.

‘That’s where you’re wrong, lover boy. You are going to kiss her, before next Friday dinner, or you know what?’

Sam shook his head, he didn’t know what.

‘Or I’m going to beat seven colours of crap out of you and throw your trousers into the girls’ toilets for good measure. Gottit?’ He tightened Sam’s tie suddenly, almost causing him to choke.

Sam nodded.

‘Good.’ Moronic Martin smiled, like the wolf smiling at Red Riding Hood, and pushed him away.

Sam turned and walked off as fast as he could without breaking into a run. He could hear the Dumb Duo laughing behind him, but they didn’t follow and the sound became fainter as he walked. Some tears escaped as he neared the end of the street, once he’d rounded the corner, out of sight, he wiped them on the sleeve of his blazer. At least it was Friday, that cheered him up a bit, they’d forget all about him by Monday. Yes, they’ll surely have found some other victim by then.

Only they didn’t. In geography, on Monday morning, Moronic Martin kept looking over at Sam and making pouty shapes with his lips. What’s more he’d told Gobby Gordon, so that by dinnertime every boy in year eight – and a few others besides – knew. As he queued up for his meal in the dining hall, Sam could hear the giggles and feel the eyes burning into his back. There was treacle sponge for pudding. Sam loved treacle sponge; but today it seemed like some malevolent presence, lurking in the semi-congealed custard, and he couldn’t eat it.

Maybe he should just kiss her and get it over with? It would be better than getting beaten to a pulp by Moronic Martin. He wandered around the playground until he spotted Hapless Helen and walked over to her.

‘Hello again.’ Sam’s mouth was suddenly dry and he couldn’t look her in the face. His eyes conducted a detailed examination of his shoes.

‘Thanks for Friday,’ the girl said. ‘It was nice of you.’

‘That’s okay, I wondered if. . .?’

‘What?’

‘Can I kiss you?’ He blurted out the words, then forced himself to look up.

‘Yeuch!’ Hapless Helen looked as though she’d drunk vinegar whilst standing up to her neck in slime. ‘Is this some sort of boys’ dare?’

Sam shuffled his feet. ‘Not a dare, not exactly.’

‘It is a dare. I thought you were nice, but you’re just like all the other boys. Get lost, you weirdo.’ She hitched her bag onto her shoulder and stalked away. Sam had blown his one chance of salvation.

For the next few days, he tried avoidance tactics. He avoided Lardy Larry, he avoided Hapless Helen, most of all he avoided Moronic Martin, hoping the problem would go away. If he stayed out of sight maybe Martin would forget.

He couldn’t avoid the Dumb Duo on Thursday morning though, Thursday morning meant games. The unwritten laws of the boys’ changing room meant anything that might be seen as shyness or modesty was strictly out of the question. Even so, he’d managed quite well to keep out of the way of the Dumb Duo before the lesson and – being a good runner – experienced no trouble during cross-country.

Afterwards, Sam stepped from the steaming showers into a seething cauldron of naked and half-naked boys. Moronic Martin strutted in his corner, furthest from the door. Martin was the tallest, hardest boy in year eight and he wanted everyone to know it. Daft Danny raged around the room, with his underpants on his head, doing aeroplane impressions.

Sam was halfway back to his peg, drying his hair as he went – hoping the towel on his head made him semi-invisible – when he felt a sharp sting as a wet towel flicked against his bare bottom.

He turned to see Moronic Martin – his school tie worn, kamikaze style, round his forehead – behind him hovered the blubbery bulk of Lardy Larry.

‘Only one more day, lover boy. Better make your move, or–‘

’Neeeoooowwww!’ Daft Danny zoomed through the gap between them at mach three.

Moronic Martin stuck out a foot and Danny crash-landed heavily on the wet tiles. Martin looked down at the figure sprawled at his feet. ‘What are you doing, you cripple?’ He reached down, grabbed the underpants from Danny’s head and tossed them to Lardy Larry.

Moving with surprising speed for someone of his bulk, Larry crossed the room and threw them in the showers.

‘No!’ wailed Daft Danny, struggling to get up. ‘Not my Calvin’s!’

Sam used the cover of this diversion to reach his peg, dress quickly and leave, without bothering to properly dry himself.

On Friday morning, Sam considered pretending to be sick so that he could stay at home. But he knew he’d never be able to convince his mum, so he headed for school with a heavy heart and a leaden step.

He continued his avoidance tactics through the morning. The big danger would be at dinnertime. Sam was on first sittings and after his meal he tried to stay with groups of others he knew. Safety in numbers; Sam reasoned the Dumb Duo couldn’t beat him up if he was in a group.

The tactic worked quite well, Sam began to think he’d got away with it, until – about ten minutes before the bell for afternoon lessons – a moment of inattention found Sam alone beside the science block; and there, advancing slowly on him were Moronic Martin and Lardy Larry. He had nowhere to run, he stood by the wall, resigned to his fate.

‘Such a shame,’ said Moronic Martin with a curl of his lip. ‘All you had to do was kiss a girl. How hard can that be? What a wimp.’

‘We gonna do him now, Mart?’ Lardy Larry’s piggy face grew flushed with anticipation and the unaccustomed strain of formulating a question.

Martin pushed Sam back against the wall, held him there with his left hand, and subjected him to a long, grey gaze. He drew back his right hand in a fist. ‘I’ll soften him up a bit, then you get his trousers. Okay, Laz?’

Larry nodded eagerly. Sam shut his eyes tight and tried to push himself backwards through the brickwork.

‘Leave him alone.’

The voice was vaguely familiar, Sam opened his eyes and saw the new girl, standing a few feet away.

‘Oh, look,’ said Moronic Martin. ‘Your girlfriend’s come to save you. You’re too late, love.’ He half-turned to look at her. ‘But stick around, we’ll have his pants down in a minute, you might get a flash of something.’

‘I said, leave him alone.’ Hapless Helen took a pace nearer. Sam willed her to go away and not prolong his punishment.

‘You gonna make me?’ sneered Moronic Martin.

Sam wasn’t quite sure what happened next. The girl grabbed Moronic Martin’s arm, did a sort of a twist and a flick, and the next thing Martin was lying on his back with a very surprised look on his face.

Lardy Larry started forward, and she did it again, a sidestep, a twist, a flick, and Larry too landed with a heavy thud, gasping for air.

‘Wow!’ said Sam, saucer-eyed in awe. ‘That was terrific.’

Heroic Helen – the new name floated into Sam’s mind perfectly formed, like a snowflake – looked down at the victims of her handiwork and squared her shoulders in her oversized blazer.

‘Where’d you learn to do that?’ asked Sam, still not quite believing what he’d seen.

His saviour gave a modest shrug. ‘My dad’s a martial arts instructor, I’ve been doing it forever.’

The two bullies were struggling to their feet and began to limp away, muttering darkly about being tricked. Moronic Martin, beaten up, and by a girl! Sam couldn’t wait to spread the word, but he remembered his manners. ‘Thanks,’ said Sam, ‘you saved my life.’

‘That’s all right, don’t think it means I want to kiss you though.’

‘No.’ Sam’s voice betrayed a little sadness. His first crush had just hit him with the force of a falling piano; the idea of kissing Helen had suddenly become rather attractive. 

‘We can be friends though, if you want?’ Heroic Helen offered a shy half-smile.

Sam’s face split into a grin. ‘Friends, yes, okay.’ He summoned up the most romantic gesture he could possibly think of, and – reaching into his blazer pocket – translated it into breathless words: ‘Would you like half my Mars bar?’