BILLY CROMPTON’S WAGER 

By Bob French.

It was Friday the 11^th of November 2011, a special day for Billy Crompton, a veteran of the Korean War and the Suez Crisis, who like many of his pals, quietly stood at the war memorial at 11 o’clock in the rain to pay homage to those who did not return.  It was a good turn out and Billy was pleased to see a few of his pals from his old regiment had turned out. 

It had stopped raining by the evening, as he pushed open the door to his local, The Duke of Wellington, in Hatfield Peverel. After raising his hand in appreciation to the many who called out his name, he took his seat at the end of the bar.

          “Usual Billy?”

“Thank you, Harry.” 

The chatter and the sound of music grew as the night went on, until eight o’clock, when Harry rang the bell, informing those who had paid their five pounds, that the buffet was ready. 

Billy was looking forward to his evening meal and as he queued, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned.  There, standing in front of him was his old platoon commander, Mr Hawthorn Jarvis-Bollthrop, wearing his old regimental tie. 

“God, what are you doing here?” Billy’s tone was disrespectful to his old boss, but he didn’t care.  Ever since the man, who was a second lieutenant during the Korean war, had deserted him and his platoon leaving them stranded in no-man’s land, to fight their way back to their lines.  From that moment on, the lads from the second platoon refused to recognise him as their platoon commander. 

Billy ignored him, took his meal and sat down with some of his old pals and began chatting.  Much to Billy’s annoyance, Javis-Bollthrop joined the table where Billy sat and started to tell everyone how he had grown in status and wealth after the war. 

“What happened?  Did daddy give you lots of money?” 

“No, as a matter of fact, I started to work for Lloyds in London.  After a while, I began to work on stocks and shares, then moved to trading in foreign assets.  Have to say I made a packet. 

“So, what do you do now then?” One of Billy’s friends asked? 

“I trade on the stock market these days, having made a killing on the foreign assets desk. I also like to gamble at the Grosvenor Casino in Russell Square. It’s a very select establishment you know.” 

On hearing this, Billy put down his fork and stared at his old boss. 

“So you think you’re a good gambler then?” 

Jarvis-Bollthrop gave Billy a smug look, then nodded 

“OK, I bet you 50 quid, that I can lick my eyeball.”

Laughing, Jarvis-Bollthrop agreed.

Billy then carefully removes his false eyeball and licks it.

The people around them suddenly started to cheer as Billy extends his hand, ready to accept 50 pounds.  Jarvis-Bollthrop reluctantly takes out a 50-pound note from his wallet and hands it to Billy.

“Fancy getting your own back?”

Jarvis-Balthrop grins and immediately accepts the challenge.

“OK, I will bet you 500 quid that I can bite one of my ears.”

          Jarvis-Bollthrop doesn’t trust Billy, so he leans across and gives each of Billy’s ears a tug.  Happy with his inspection, he agrees to the wager.

Billy then leans forward and carefully takes his complete set of false teeth, and proceeds to bite his ear.  The people who had started to gather around the group erupt with laughter and cheers as Jarvis-Bollthrop hands over ten crisp 50 pound notes.

Billy, with a straight face, turns to Jarvis-Bollthrop. “Fancy winning your 500 quid back then?”

Jarvis-Bollthrop thinks for a minute, then stands up. “No thank you,” and makes his way to the exit, followed by jeers and shouts of “chicken.”

In his frustration, he turns. “I shall return tomorrow and we shall see who is the better man.” 

Billy smiles.  “Be here at nine and I shall be waiting.”

Jarvis-Bollthrop nodded then left.

Saturday night The Duke of Wellington pub was heaving and as usual, Billy was chatting with Harry at the end of the bar.

“How many do you reckon you’ll get in tonight then?

Harry thought for a minute. “Saturday night…um....  I’d say 70 to 80, it could be more, say 95, if there is no football on the telly.”

As expected, at 8:50, Jarvis-Bollthrop enters the busy pub and makes his way towards Billy at the end of the bar.

“Glad you could make it. Fancy a drink?”

After some small talk, Billy brings the conversation around to the wager. 

“Right then.  Are you ready to win back your 500 quid?”

Jarvis-Bollthrop studies Billy’s face.  “Are you confident Corporal Crompton?”

Billy paused for a second to give the impression that he was not totally sure of the outcome of the wager, then says slowly, “Sure. Let’s get on with it.” 

Jarvis-Bollthrop seeing Billy’s reaction, smiles.

“Look, let’s make it worth my while.  Shall we up the stakes to say, a 1000 pounds?”

Suddenly those who had gathered around Billy’s table fell silent. Billy saw the flash of the challenge in Jarvis-Bollthrop’s eyes and realised that he may have bitten of more than he could choose.

“Right then.  Let’s make it really simple.  I bet you a 1,000 quid that you are wearing maroon underpants.”

“Haha, I’ve got you.  I’m wearing white underpants.”

Billy looked shocked and a little downcast, then asked to see the proof.

Jarvis Bollthrop grinned and feeling elated that he had finally beaten Billy, turned to him.

“What do you mean. “Want some proof?”

“Simple really. I want to see you wearing your white underpants.”

Javis-Bollthrorp considered what Billy was asking and seemed to come to a decision, then nodded, and with a grin on his face undid his belt, and dropped his trousers.

Everyone in the pub cheered as Billy glanced at the clock, then handed Jarvis-Bollthrop the 1000 pounds which Harry had arranged from the till earlier that night.

“I don’t understand. Why are you and everyone cheering?  You’ve just lost 1000 pounds?”

“Simple really. I bet every person here tonight 50 quid that at exactly nine o’clock I would get you to drop your trousers in front of everyone in the pub. Aint that right Harry?”

1060 words July 2024

Copyright Bob French