The common room, break-time, three boys plan their future.
Boy 1 has black hair, a greasy look to his scrubbed-clean face and piggy eyes. “We should start a business together, we’d make a fortune. More even than we already have, put together. We would be consultants and with our contacts our client list would be huge.”
Boy 2 has brown hair, a pointed nose but a half-handsome face. “Do we know enough about anything to be consulted on? I didn’t think we’d do anything near as hard work as that. I don’t plan to work hard at all, much less establish a business.”
Boy 3 is large, with fluffy blond hair, has an air of hanger-on about him. “I can play the guitar. Why don’t we become a rock group? Think of all the women we’d get and the money and the drugs. We could be the Rolling Stones.”
As the bell rings for lessons, the boys grab their bags and shuffle off to classes, boy 1 to Economics boy 2 to Management, boy 3 to Drama. Each wondered how he might best use his time at school to set up his own future, perhaps even the future of the group. How exciting it would be for them all to work together one day, to carry on the triumvirate long term.
That evening the three boys don their blazers and head for the private dining room to meet the other club members. Mid-way through the sorbet course, boy 3 with his fluffy hair bobbing as he speaks says, “I know. We’ll rule the country.”
Boys 1, 2 and 3 raise their glasses in a toast and smile.