Ade Edmondson: “I Was Suspended For ‘Throwing Up In A Prefect’s Bin’ – But The Paperwork Strangely Fails To Mention I Was Smashed”

For Actor, Musician And Comedian Ade Edmondson, Surviving Education Was An Achievement In Itself

Ade Edmondson
by Ade Edmondson
Paddington Bear whole school resource pack
DOWNLOAD A FREE RESOURCE! Paddington Bear – Whole-school lesson plans & activity sheets
PrimaryEnglish

I have happy memories of primary school. I was utterly in love with my teacher, for a start, and I can picture the little boy I was then, eagerly waving his hand in the air as she asked us questions about the Sam Pig book she was reading to us; desperately trying to catch her eye so I could impress her.

I would have been described as ‘bright’, I expect. I was definitely keen. But then, at the age of 11, I was packed off to boarding school, because my dad was teaching forces kids on army bases abroad. And it was just a horrible, grim experience.

After it was over, all I could do for a long while was block it from my mind. But we are all a product of our experiences, and if you don’t try and tease out the positives, you risk ending up very bitter.

So, the education was poor, certainly. And the pastoral care neglectful at best, nasty and bullying at worst. At the same time, however, you are in that situation with a load of other kids, and you develop coping strategies. We used to get given something called the Blue Book at the start of every year, with dates in it for all the sporting fixtures and other events. At the back, there was a long list of rules. The game was to tick them all off as you broke them; that was fun.

Punishment and performance

There were sanctions, though. We used to get hit a lot, with sticks. And eventually, when I was in the sixth form, I was suspended. According to the records, it was for ‘throwing up in a prefect’s wastepaper basket’ – somewhat bizarrely, the paperwork fails to mention that I was completely smashed at the time.

Although my parents had returned to England by that point (keeping me at boarding school because it was ‘good for me’), I wasn’t inclined to wait for my dad to collect me, so I ran away. I went to Hull, with the idea that I could climb up an anchor chain like Tintin and board a tramp steamer bound for the Congo, where I would write stories like Conrad. But this was the early 1970s, during the depression, and Hull was, to all intents and purposes, closed. So I promised I’d join the army, and the school took me back. We all knew I was never going to join the army; but I’d been halfway through rehearsals for a production of Hamlet at the time of my absconsion, playing the title role, and I’m not convinced there was a viable understudy.

Performance, of all kinds, was what kept me going through school. As well as the annual play, we had ‘house arts festivals’ of music and drama. A few years ago, someone who was a pupil at the time sent me some of the programmes; it’s embarrassing how much my name is in them. I would be in the band, act, write, direct, paint the scenery – anything, really, to escape the unpleasant reality of everyday school life.

Different times

To make things worse, all this austerity and discipline didn’t even lead to brilliant results. One of my peers left without a single A level, and my own grades were much worse than predicted. It was just no good; we were taught by very old men and I don’t think they really cared in the least about us – with one exception. Mr Aubrey taught English, and produced the school plays. He was only there for a couple of years, when I was quite small, but he was kind to me, which meant a huge amount. I still see him.

I think, and hope, my grown-up daughters had a much better experience of education than I did. My parents were a few thousand miles away for most of my school career, but even when they came back, they didn’t get involved at all. Whereas I made sure to take an interest; I’d go in and read with pupils, and was even in the school choir at one point – just a few other dads and me, filling the lower register. I probably embarrassed my children. But I don’t remember them being unhappy.

Ade Edmondson is a comedian, actor, writer, musician, television presenter and director. His first children’s book, Tilly and the Time Machine, is published by Puffin Books.

You might also be interested in...