Billy Bunter - Dictator

Greyfriars School is an English public school situated in the county of Kent, nicknamed the garden of England, the county of Kent is located at the bottom right – the southeast corner of England. The school lies on the river Sark, upstream is the nearby village of Friardale and downstream the market town of Courtfield. The county of Kent is near the coast: the fishing village of Pegg is within a mile (1.6 km) of the school. There are two other public schools nearby; Cliff House girls’ School and Highcliffe. Farther away are the towns of Lantham and Wapshott.

The school consists of seven forms or age groups, ranging from the age of 12 to 18 years old. Each form has its own Form Master, who teaches the majority of the lessons. Specialist masters are used for French, sports and mathematics.

Boys spend most of the day in class, or in their spare time either in a common room, on the sports fields, or in shared studies; they sleep in shared dormitories. Breakfast and lunch are taken communally. A modest high tea is served in the main hall, but most of the boys prefer to make their own eating arrangements in their studies, funds permitting.

In the dormitory one fine morning, we find our anti-hero, the main character in this fine tale – William George Bunter better known as Billy Bunter. While all the other boys in the dormitory have arisen from their night’s slumbers, this lazy oaf, looking like a fat owl, is debating if the day needs his presence or not, Dreaming the last remnants of his wonderful dream visualizing the largest cream-filled sponge cake in the baker’s shop window in Wapshott town.

Bunter's defining characteristics are his naive greed, self-indulgence, and overweight appearance. He is in many respects the finest definition of an obnoxious anti-hero. Besides his gluttony, he is obtuse, lazy, racist, nosy, deceitful, pompous, and conceited, but he is blissfully unaware of all his defects. In his own mind, he is a handsome, talented, and naturally aristocratic young man surrounded by uncouth "beasts".

At Greyfriars School the headmaster appoints a Head Prefect, who is responsible for leading the other Prefects and supporting the headmaster in matters of school discipline. There is also a School Captain, who is head of school games. The School Captain’s name is George Bernard Wingate, and is elected by a democratic vote of all members of the school. Similarly, each form has a Head Boy, appointed by the Form Master and a Form Captain, and finally elected democratically by the entire Form.

Today was the election day for Bunter’s Form, the fourth year Form Captain, and as he lay in the comfort of his bed, considering whether it was worth the effort to rise and greet the day. His hunger pains started to growl noisily as his huge stomach grumbled and complained. It was the deciding factor, as he slowly moved around in his bed like a beached whale, and then reaching out with blinking eyes of a sightless mole trying to adjust to the sudden light as well as trying to find his black wire-framed glasses.

Dressing quickly, and hastily scoffing down the fried English breakfast, he arrived at the classroom not to be met with the normal look of disdain by anyone who noticed his late rushed arrival, but with smiles, and false grins of welcome. The contrast to his normal reception on entering a room full of people was surprising, and Bunter immediately sensed something unusual, and more importantly something he did not know about.

Bunter was about to find out. The election for the two candidates of Donald Smith and Hurbert Cherry was tied, and Bunter had the deciding vote. Both Smith and Cherry immediately went to Bunter and whispered personal promises into his ear to encourage his patronage, and his deciding vote.

Although Bunter had a keen sense of his own importance, this is rarely shared by anyone else, and because everyone at the school had such a low opinion of Billy Bunter. He had never been in this position of power ever before, not even an ounce of fleeting popularity. It was unusual for Bunter to become the centre of attention, which he now artfully exploited to the full.

The entire form clambered to hear his casting vote. With all eyes on Bunter he gathers his thoughts, with a serious look on his face, which makes him look even more stupid than normal.

“What’s your decision?” One of the boys named Peter Todd said, the loudest voice to be heard above the chorus of voices from the many enquiring boys of the fourth year.

"I'm thinking it out, Toddy, “Bunter answered, without moving. "Can't say I like either of the beasts much! Of course, in some ways, Smithy would make a better Form captain than Cherry."

"How do you make that out, fathead, I mean, old fellow!" Peter Todd corrected his initial insult, remembering he wanted Bunter to vote for Cherry.

"Well, Skinner thinks that if Smithy gets in, a man will be able to dodge games practice without being reported to Wingate." Bunter conveyed to all the boys a whispered promise.

"Oh crumbs!" Peter Todd burst out.

That consideration, evidently, had a strong appeal for Bunter! He hated games beyond anything.

”Still, Cherry's not a bad chap in some ways!" said Bunter. "He's a good deal more civil than Smithy, if a fellow drops into his study to tea."

"Oh!" gasped Toddy.

"And—he's not reeking with money like Smithy, but he's a jolly good deal easier to touch for a small loan when a fellow's been disappointed about a postal order," added Bunter thoughtfully.

Peter Todd gazed at him. Bunter evidently had his own original ideas about the qualities that were required in a Form captain.

It was at that very moment, and before Bunter had time to announce his preference, his deciding vote for the fourth-year form captain, directly in front of his eyes he was no longer in the classroom at Greyfriars school in Kent, England. In a blink of eye, he was suddenly in a meeting room in a large, but strange room, full of black faces, and all the faces were looking at him with intent, waiting for an answer, exactly in the same manner as the fourth-year boys.

When one of the black faces spoke, it was with a strange English accent, that Bunter had never heard ever in his short life.

“What’s your decision General?”

“Wow! Oh! Oh. crumbs! Wow!” These were scrambled words uttered full of shock and panic from a fourth-year preparatory schoolboy and were not the words of the presiding leader of the nation. Not words to give confidence to the audience of power figureheads positioned around the large table, men dressed mostly in uniforms were the high-ranking officials of the Nigerian military.

The African nation was in middle of bitter civil war, the new nation was being torn apart, ravaged by war, conflict, hunger, and the displacement of millions of people.

Bunter stammered "I'm s-sincerely sorry". And then made a legitimate excuse to go to the toilet, as he had nearly wet his uniformed trousers. He eventually found out how to release and exit himself from the heavy ornate chair at the top of the long-polished meeting table. All eyes followed him, as he staggered to his feet, after nearly falling to the grand carpeted floor. The huge meeting room, one of the many grand rooms in the presidential palace of Lagos, Nigeria.

Once Bunter had gained his composure, he ran to the nearest door. He wanted to escape, anywhere to avoid those expecting faces wanting answers, based on his statesmanlike role. He was shown to the toilets a door near the meeting room, many assistants hovered around, ushered and directed Bunter to the peace of the toilets. Bunter grasped the large ornate washbasin, which supported his swaying body, which was attempting to keep pace with his spinning head. He looked up into the mirror and there was the handsome mustached black face leering back towards him from the mirror. Bunter clung into the wash basin as he started to feel giddy, the early signs of feigning. He saw in the mirror a reflection to be respected, a smart military uniform with a distinct colour of grey baize, a shirt of light green, with dark green coloured tie, the gold epaulettes of a general.

“Who am I?” Bunter mouthed into the mirror.

The face in the mirror smiled brightly back and spoke. “You are General Yakubu Gowon, head of the great west African state of Nigeria.”

“No, I’m not, I’m Billy Bunter from Greyfriars Prep School in Kent!” replied Bunter.

“Where’s my body?” Cried Bunter.

“I have it on loan for a while.” Replied the black face in the mirror matter-of-factly.

“But I want it back!” wailed Billy Bunter

“All in good time.” Reassured the reflection.

"But I don’t have time, all those people in that room are looking for decisions from you, or ME! Oh Crickey! This is so confusing.” Billy Bunter continued to wail.

“Instruct them to do this.” The voice in the mirror continued.

“Give the oil production rights to the Dutch, which means that the Americans, Brits and French don’t have any future hold on Nigeria. No more will Nigeria invest in their outdated imperialistic ideals trying to destabilize and disrupt this new vulnerable nation for their own ends. Parasites! This nation needs to create thirty or more new governable regions out today’s inappropriate four, and marginalize the bigger tribes of Igbo, and the Hausa. Make sure the river people own the land that sits on the oil reserves. Watch your back for those two sitting on your left at the table; Abubakar, and Obi are dangerous to the plan, they are your nemesis. And finally, the civil war, the Biafra War; tell them all, we continue with the same policy of no victors, and no vanquished. No independent state, no breakaways, Nigeria stays strong and stays as it is!”

“Jeez! Crickey! That’s spifling and jolly. Jings and Crivvens – old man!” Spluttered Bunter in reply, all the words of directions from voice in the mirror, how to respond to the waiting military rulers of Nigeria. Supposedly from the smiling black face of General Yakubu Gowon the leader of Nigeria was completely incomprehensible to a fourteen-year-old boy inside the body of the General.

“One more thing before I go.” Said the smiling face in the mirror.

“Who gets your vote as the fourth form captain, Donald Smith or Hurbert Cherry?”