Future Queens of England (20 page)

“I never want it to end.  Look at him squirm,” Uwe said, his voice dripping with schadenfreude.  The dance continued, much to Uwe’s delight.

After what seemed liked hours to Tony, he spoke up again, “How much longer does this bloody song go on for?”

“You’ve got a while yet, Tony, we’re not even at the operatic part yet!” laughed Gareth gaily.  The dancer bent over and touched his toes.  He winked at Tony from between his legs before pushing his buttocks against his face.

“That’s it, I can’t take any more,” wailed Tony.

“Come on, Tony, stay with it, it’s nearly at the guitar solo,” Hugh said supportively, as he clenched his fists, willing Tony on.  The dancer fell to his knees in front of Tony and placed his hands on Tony’s thighs.  He attempted to pull Tony’s legs apart, but Tony fought this.  The dancer gritted his teeth and his huge biceps and triceps flexed as Tony’s legs shook and gave way.  Quick as a flash the dancer slid between Tony’s legs.  He attempted to close them again but then thought better of it. 

Mama, ooohh, I don’t wanna die sometimes wish I’d never been born at all
, came the angelic voice from the speakers.  The dancer grabbed Tony’s wrists and held them down before pushing his face into Tony’s crotch.  Tony wore a pained expression on his face as the onlookers wept tears of laughter.  Uwe clutched his stomach, contorting in pain, and he then threw his head back in hysterics.  He lost his balance and toppled backwards from his chair onto the floor.  The group pointed at Uwe on the floor in fits of laughter and held their sides to stop them from splitting. 

The blistering guitar solo started and the dancer sprang from his knees to his feet.  He undid his braces and let them hang limply at his sides.  He stared intently at Tony as he ran his hands down his chest to the top of his shorts.  With a smouldering look he began unbuttoning them.  Tony opened his mouth to speak but no words would come out.

I see a little silhouette of a man …
Queen sang as the dancer pulled down his shorts to reveal his thong and an incredibly large packet. 

“No!” Tony shrieked, “look at the size of that thing.  It’s not natural.”  Tony stood up to escape, but the dancer pushed him back down into his seat and leapt onto him.  At four minutes and seven seconds into the song the rock section kicked in.  With his legs wrapped around Tony the dancer rode him like a bucking bronco.  Gripping Tony firmly with one hand for support, the dancer waved his cowboy hat in the air with his other as Tony bucked like a bronco trying to escape, but the rider remained in the saddle.  The sweat poured from Tony as he twisted this way and that, trying to eject his rider, but the rider was just too strong.  Every time Tony made it to his feet his rider squeezed him with his thighs and Tony collapsed back onto the chair behind him. 

Oh baby, can’t do this to me baby.  Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here!
Freddie belted out with the utmost passion as Tony flailed wildly.  He made attempt after attempt to buck his rider, but his rider’s prowess defeated him each time.

“That is the most incredible thing I have ever seen,” declared Gareth with awe.  “Has anyone brought their camera?”

“It’s magnificent,” Uwe said, “I never thought it would be as good as this!”

“This is the stuff that dreams are made of,” Bruce declared with his hand suspiciously in his pocket.

As the song reached its crescendo, a defeated Tony collapsed exhausted into his chair.  With an enormous sense of satisfaction the dancer climbed down and danced delicately around Tony, occasionally stroking his arms, face and legs gently.  Finally, the dancer placed his cowboy hat crookedly onto Tony’s head and walked away as the final bars played out softly.  Tony lay slumped in the chair, down but not out.

Chapter
Eleven

“Good morning to you my nearest, dearest and queerest,” Ben said as he shimmied into the room. 

“Morning Ben,” they chorused enthusiastically seated upon their cushions.

“Today we are going to deal with style,” he announced in his normal flamboyant manner.  “For some of you this is going to be a piece of cake …”  He looked at Gareth and Uwe and winked.  “But for others - and I’m not naming any names,” he stared deliberately out of the window at the skyline so as not to give anything away, “well, let’s just say we’ve got our work cut out.”  He turned back to face the class and continued.  “Your latest assignment will be to make someone look fabulous!” Ben announced with gusto.  “You will all be put into groups and the least stylish member of each group will be given a makeover.”

The class cooed and gasped and then started to chatter excitedly.  After a moment Tony raised his hand.

Ben gestured for the class to quieten down then pointed over to Tony.  “Yes, Tony.  Do you have a question?”

“Who decides who the least stylish person is?” Tony asked.

The class burst into hysterics.

Ben gently put his finger to his lips and the laughter immediately died down.  “Tony, Tony, Tony,” he said with a smile, “unless Stig of the Dump is in your particular group then it’s an absolute axiom.  But to save people’s feelings as much as possible I will nominate the least stylish person within each group.  I don’t think we want to let you all start listing everyone else’s faults now, do we?”  He looked at the class seriously, “Guys, I don’t want anyone to take this personally, just accept it for what it is and learn from it.”

The class eyed each other nervously.  Hugh crossed his fingers and hoped that it wouldn’t be him.

“So, Tony, as I inferred you will receive the makeover within your group,” Ben said softly and sensitively.

“Alright,” Tony said matter-of-factly, “what do I have to do, then?”

“Oh,” Ben said a little taken aback.  “I’d actually put twenty minutes aside in my diary for convincing you to do it.”

“Not needed, Ben,” Tony replied with a straight face.

“Really?” Ben responded with a little disappointment, “but I’ve already spent time compiling a list of compelling arguments as to why it’s a good idea.”

Tony smirked.  “If it makes you feel better you can still read
a
couple of items on your list.”

Ben took the list from his bag and screwed it up, “No need to humour me Tony,” he said trying not to sound hurt.  “It seems that after you walked over those hot coals last month at the strip club you seem a little more open.”

“Does the whole bloody school know about that night then?” Tony chuntered, rolling his eyes.

Ben laughed.  “I think the whole bloody town knows about it I’m afraid.”  He walked over and patted Tony on the shoulder.

“Anyway,” Tony started, “I don’t know if I am more open to anything that is taught here, but let’s just say after that baptism of fire I reckon I can deal with anything that you throw at me.”

Ben clapped his hands together.  “Well, I consider that progress!” he said with obvious delight.  “So to continue, I have put you into groups to work together on this.  Gareth, Uwe,” Ben said, “you two will both be in the same group.  I know this seems a little like overkill but the reason for this is that I’ve put Tony into your group too.  So your team will have the biggest challenge.” 

Uwe put his face into his hands.  “The best we can hope for is making him look like a chimpanzee from a tea advertisement.”

Ben shook his head.  “Now Uwe, is that what you are going to settle for?  I really must say that I expected more from you,” he scolded.

“What you ask is impossible,” Uwe replied firmly.

“Well, if you don’t think that you can handle the challenge then let Gareth take the lead and then act as your mentor,” Ben said, losing his patience.  “You could learn a thing or two from him,” he added.

Uwe’s cheeks coloured.  “Mentor!” he fumed, “mentor!”  He thumped a clenched fist onto the floor, “I am the
überschwule
, never forget this!  If anyone will be the mentor then it will be me.”  He stood up quickly from his cushion so he was not looking up at Ben and spoke forcefully and with determination.  “I will turn Tony into the most magnificent monkey that has ever dragged his knuckles across this island.  You mark my words.”

Ben smiled at the class.  “I’m too good!” he said smugly.  “In fact, I’m so good I should write a book on how to motivate the intolerably vain.”

Uwe scowled as the class guffawed. 

“Hey, you do realise that I am actually here in the room, don’t you?” Tony muttered angrily.

Ben looked guiltily at Tony, “Sorry, Tony, nothing personal.” 

Tony grunted in his normal manner. 

“Last but not least,” Ben said.  “Hugh!” 

Hugh sat bolt upright at the mention of his name.  “You’re also in the group with Tony.”

“Yes!” Hugh cried out in relief at not being the least stylish in his group and punched the air.

“Settle down,” Uwe sneered, “you were a close second.”

Hugh’s smile quickly vanished. Ben then spoke to the other pupils and informed them of their groups. 

Once Ben had finished, he wandered back to the front of the room.  “I’ve taken the liberty of already performing an assessment of the least stylish person within each group,” he informed them, “and I will use this as a benchmark to measure the final result.  Quite simply, the greater the improvement, the higher the grade.”

Uwe looked over at Tony and whispered, “Forcing you just to take a shower would give our group an ‘A’,” he said.

“Being attacked by you is like being attacked by a tissue, Uwe,” Tony said laughing it off.  Uwe bit his lip and looked back at Ben.

“So, Tony, let’s use you as an example.  We all know that you’re a real man and that you won’t be offended by a public critique,” Ben said, cornering him.

Tony puffed up his chest.  “Give it your best shot, Ben, I can take it.”

“If you can take it, I can give it,” squealed Bruce.

“Err, yes, well, thanks for your contribution Bruce,” Ben said, blushing slightly.  He regained his composure and addressed the class, “Where were we?  Ah yes, Tony’s critique.  On the upside, Tony has toned up a lot since he first arrived here.  His beer belly is diminishing day by day.”

All eyes focused on Tony as Ben spoke.  Tony started to play up to it by flexing his biceps and patting his stomach. 

Ben ignored Tony’s tomfoolery and continued unabated.  “So what I am saying is that now Tony has at least given you a reasonable canvas to work on, so perhaps I could suggest improving his dress sense for a start.  He’s bought some new clothes since he’s been here, but it would appear he bought them from a jumble sale.”  Ben pointed his finger at Tony for a moment before carrying on with his report.  “Tony only really has one look and I would describe that as …” he paused while he decided on a fitting description, “well, dishevelled football hooligan is the only label that springs to my mind.” 

The class tittered at this. 

“So, if you can get him out of his polyester football shirts and get some jeans that actually fit him then you’ll be making a good start.”

“Have you finished?” Tony said with mild irritation.

Ben smiled back at Tony.  “Almost.  I would also recommend doing something with Tony’s hair; actually, doing anything with his hair would be a drastic improvement.”  He stared over at Tony, “And what a lot of hair there is.  You’ll need to sort out the body hair, facial hair, the hair on his head and that awful mono-brow.”  He looked at Tony and winced, “Let’s just say that your stylists have got one hell of a struggle ahead of them.”

Tony hunched himself over and had a private grumble.

“So these are just some ideas to work on.  For the other groups I’ll spare you the public dissection,” Ben said airily.  “If you want to speak to me in private then stop by my desk after class.”

The class nodded duly.  A few faces looked incredibly relieved and sat back on their cushions once more.

Ben took a sip of water from the bottle on his desk at the front of the room.  Once he swallowed, he clapped his hands together and proclaimed, “Onwards and upwards!”  He faced the class again and continued.  “There are no limits to what you can do,” Ben announced, “well, except for surgery.  I can’t condone that.”

Bruce raised his hand and spoke up.  “What about botox?” he asked.