The immortal Nigel Molesworth (aka the Curse of St Custards). I wonder if anyone remembers him....
Molesworth was the deeply subversive love child of writer Geoffrey Willans and illustrator Ronald Searle.
I discovered him when I was nine and a boarder at a prep school that had echoes both of Linbury Court (of the Jennings stories) and the loopily recognizable world of St Custard's.
It's one of those books where much (but not all) of the humour comes via Molesworth's idiosyncratic spelling.
I relished the fact the Molesworth's constant efforst to be 'tuogh' came to nothing, and he's frequently trumped by the gloriously effete Basil Fotherington Thomas 'who say "Hello clouds, hello sky" and skip like a girlie'.
Nigel Molesworth, friend and role model. Hurrah!