Well, Matilda and Lavender.
New scum, I suppose.
Welcome to Borstal.
Borstal?
Have you met the Trunchbull yet?
No, not yet.
We've seen her at prayers, but we haven't met her.
You've got a treat coming to you.
She hates very small children.
Why?
She thinks five-year-olds are grubs that haven't yet hatched out.
No.
Many don't even survive the first year.
They get carried out on stretchers screaming.
Wow.
I've often seen it.
On stretchers.
Oh, yes.
Heard about the chokie, have you?
The chokie?
The trunchbull has a lock-up cupboard in her private quarters called the chokie.
I don't understand.
You will.
It's very tall and very narrow and you can't sit down or squat in it.
You have to stand.
And three of the walls are made of cement, with bits of broken glass sticking out all over, so you can't lean against them.
You have to stand more or less at attention all the time when you get locked up in there.
It's terrible.
Want a crisp?
No thanks.
But can't you lean against the door?
Yes.
Don't be daft.
It's got thousands of sharp spiky nails sticking out of it.
Have you ever been in there?
My first term I was in there six times.
Six times?
Twice for a whole day.
It's torture, I'm telling you.
I was off my rocker when she let me out, babbling like an idiot.
Yesterday, the Trunchbull caught a boy called Julius Rotwinkle eating licorice all sorts.
She picked him up by one arm and flung him clear out of the open classroom window.
Did he break any bones?
Only a few.
But you've got to remember that the Trunchbull once threw the hammer for Britain in the Olympics, so she's very proud of her right arm.
The Trunchbull would throw anything around just to keep her arm in, especially children.
Oh, no.
That's dreadful.
Shh, watch out.
It's her.
It's the Trunchbull.
Yep, here she comes.
Look at that great big belt around her smock.
Evil.
And those breeches.
And those cars like grapefruits.
Amanda Thripp!
You!
Amanda Thripp!
Me?
Yes, you!
Come here!
Hold your hats.
What's going to happen?
That idiot.
Amanda has let her hair grow even longer during the hauls and her mother has plaited it into pigtails.
Silly thing to do.
Why silly?
If there's one thing the Trunchbull can't stand, it's pigtails.
I want those filthy pigtails off before you come back to school tomorrow.
Chop them off and throw them in the dustbin.
Understand?
But my mummy likes them.
She plays them for me every morning.
Your mummy's a twit.
You look like a rat with tails coming out of its head.
My mummy thinks I look lovely, Miss George.
I don't give a tinker's toot what your mummy thinks.
Come here.
Give me those pigtails.
Huh?
Here we go.
It's a hammer job.
No!
Just watch it.
She's for it.
She's about to be thrown.
There she goes.
Like a rocket.
Well thrown, sir.
She's going to land in the playing field.
She's bouncing off the grass.
I do believe she's all right.
Look, she's sitting up.
Ha!
Not bad.
Considering I'm not in strict training.
Ha!
Not bad at all.
She's mad.
But don't the parents complain?
Would yours?
I know mine wouldn't.
She treats the mothers and fathers just the same as the children, and they're all scared to death of her.
I'll be seeing you sometime, you two.
Bye.
Being in Miss Trunchbull's school was like being in a cage with a cobra.
After the episode with Amanda's pigtails, worse was to come.
The very next day in assembly she made Bruce Bogtrotter eat an enormous chocolate cake in front of the whole school, slice by slice.
He'd been accused of stealing a piece of her cake from the kitchens, and this was her revenge.
We couldn't believe what we were hearing.
Eat another slice.
Do as you're told, bog trotter.
Eat!
If I tell you to eat, you will eat.
You wanted cake, you stole cake, and now you've got cake.
What's more, you're going to eat it.
You do not leave this platform and nobody leaves this hall until you have eaten the entire cake that is sitting there in front of you.
Do I make myself clear, bog-trotter?
Do you get my meaning?
Come on, Bruce!
Come on, Bruce!
Come on, Bruce!
By some miracle, and with the whole school cheering him on, Bruce managed to eat every crumb.
Though how he didn't explode, I'll never know.
The Trunchbull Fairy nearly did.
Give me that plate, you worm!
You pustule!
You foul carbuncle!
She brought the empty plate right down on Bruce's head.
Luckily he was so full of cake.
He was like a sack full of wet cement and you couldn't have hurt him with a sledgehammer.
With this horror fresh in our minds, Lavender and I discovered that it was soon to be our turn, because Miss Trunchbull was to take our class for afternoon lessons.
This is when I found out quite a bit about Lavender, but even more about myself.
Now then, children, as I told you yesterday, Miss Trunchbull will be taking you this afternoon.
A few words of warning.
The headmistress is very strict about everything.
So make sure you speak only when spoken to.
When she asks you a question, stand up at once before you answer and never argue with her.
That will only make her angry and when the headmistress gets angry, you had better watch out.
You can say that again.
Lavender, have you got the headmistress' jug of water and her glass from the kitchen?
Yes, Miss Honey, it's here.
On the desk, please.
Good.
Now the class is all ready for this afternoon, so you may go out to play and make sure you're back here as soon as the bell goes.
OK, we will, Miss Honey.
Bye, Miss Honey.
Bye, Miss Honey.
Bye.