EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, AROUND 7 AM<br/><br/><strong><strong>Roger</strong></strong><br/>(http://tbn2.google.com/images?q=tbn:zVialvUPnEw_jM:http://www.buzzinsports.co.uk/files/2009/02/lawrence-dallaglio-200x300.jpg)<br/><br/>My alarm went at 6 am, and I went down to the gym to bench press a few hundred pounds to wake myself up. After working the muscles of my torso into a nice throbbing glow, I went up to my room again for a quick shower.<br/><br/>There, I rinsed myself off and pulled on a suit, in a cheerful and didactic mood. I took out my granddad's Webley revolver from the war to wake the girls. It's an heirloom, and still works like a charm, although here I only use it to fire blanks. This is a finishing school, not a military academy. I loaded six blanks into the drum and went down to the girls dorm.<br/><br/>I fired a burst of three loud bangs from the gun, and shouted<strong>"Rise and shine, slags! You have seven minutes! I want you all spruced up like the cherry on a dog's dinner!" </strong><br/><br/>Firing the remaining three blanks, I pulled the covers off our gorgeous student body and applied some firm but affectionate slaps to the breasts and arses of the girls. It was a good way of waking up the pupils and getting them primed for action, when used sparingly. Nothing I haven't experienced myself too many times, back in the day. I blew the little tendril of smoke from the revolver and headed upstairs to the dining hall for breakfast.