My head has exploded in a pain of brightly coloured stars and a pulsating throb.  The back of my head stings and my forehead feels like it's been intimate with a brick wall.  The truth is, I've just had the back of my head slapped into the table I'm sitting at.

    I'm 10 years old, short, dumpy and unfortunately quite mouthy.  I'm at school and all I really want is my mummy.  My head hurts quite badly but I don't want to give the prick the satisfaction of knowing he makes me want to cry.  

    Like every school, we have a bully.  He's bigger than us, dumber than us and smells a little too.  He doesn't just pick on me, he picks on everyone.  I think he does abuse me more than the others because when I get scared, upset or even angry, I let my mouth take over.  Words stream out like a broken machine gun.  “you..you bastard, dick...dickhead, fu..fu..fu..fufuckerrrrr....”.  Needless to say this never goes down well.     

    Anyway, I was just sitting quietly, minding my own business.  I was supposed to be working on some maths equations but in reality I was just doodling.  Other people at my desk were laughing and joking but I was silent.  Without warning my forehead was speeding towards my desk.  When I recovered some of my senses I realised that everyone else was now feverishly working on their maths problems and you could almost smell the fear coming from them.

    Everything about the classroom had changed,  their were no happy kids playing and having fun, no squeals of delight or the general mayhem you get when you put more than 10 youngsters in a room together.  I could almost swear that the temperature in the room had dropped as well.  Why do we have to put up with this.  Where are the teachers to protect us.

    Strange as it may seem this was not his first assault on me today.  Earlier he used one of those old wooden rulers on the back of my hand.  He caught 3 of my knuckles perfectly.  The pain was excruciating and their still red raw now.  I wasn't to bothered about that attack because I felt I deserved it.  

    It was my mouth again.  I thought I was safe, there was a teacher nearby and I just sort of let him have it.  I didn't mean to but for that 9 or 10 seconds when I could talk to him without any fear, it just felt so amazing.  I'm talking presents on Christmas day good or ice cream on a summers evening – just fantastic.

    Provoking him like this, although not wise, has to be counted as one of the best mistakes I've ever made.  His endless bad moods and quick fists are never subdued and after my little outburst has spent the rest of the day tormenting everyone, including some of the teachers.  

    We have now reached the heart of the problem.  Everyone is scared of this evil little bastard.  The pupils, teachers, parents - everyone.  That is why nothing is ever done about him.  I tried to confide in a teacher but was told to “just stand up for yourself”.  Great advice if your 6ft tall and built like rugby player but when your small, fat and almost comically pathetic when it comes to fighting, the advice isn't very good.  I even told my parents but they simply didn't believe the bullying was as bad as I made out.  They called me “melodramatic”.

    There are few things in this world that make you feel alone, but when the ones you trust to protect you, dismiss a problem you've got, it really hurts.  It makes you really scared and makes you hate life.  I have spent many a weekend hiding under my bed, clutching my brown bear and thanking god that for the moment at least, I felt safe.

    As the day goes on, he just gets worse and worse.  Our whole class, maybe even the whole school, are cowering behind the desks and anything big enough to let us hide behind and we're just trying our hardest to stay out of his way.  The fear is he will corner someone and dish out his special punishment.  This is only reserved for the times when his anger cannot be controlled.  This would definitely qualify as one of those days.  

    This time I've got lucky.  He has grabbed my friend and dragged him into an unused classroom.  I'm not proud to admit that I'm glad he chose my friend and not me.  In my shame I make the decision to get a teacher to that unused classroom, even if it meant saying it was on fire or something as stupid as that.  

    Amazingly it worked.  I told our headmaster that someone had started a small fire in the room and he raced to it, like any hero would.  Why he never rushed to stop the bullying like that is a mystery.

    When the headmaster flung open the door, fire extinguisher in hand, he came upon my friend lying naked on the floor, being whipped with a belt.  I just caught a glimpse.  Not a pretty sight.  His back and buttocks were red raw.  He wasn't even crying.  He just had a single tear in his eye and look I can only describe as pure unadulterated hatred.    

     The police turned up and started questioning my friend.  The rest of us were sent outside to play.  This is where we saw a sight that was guaranteed to put the spring back in our step.  The bastard. The thug, the c*nt, who had made our lives a living hell was being escorted off the school grounds, in handcuffs, towards a police car.

    The rumour is that he'll never be allowed to teach again.