THE GREAZE

E A Smith, February 2010

In Westminster slang the term ‘greaze’ (various spellings) has had a more general meaning of
a squashing match, for example, two boys at the end of a long form greazing the boys in the
middle into a bunch. Hence the use of the term for the competition of the Pancake Greaze on
Shrove Tuesday, and now the term greaze is uniquely used for this.

Captain Markham was at Westminster in the middle of the nineteenth century and describes
the greaze during his time:

“Let me speak next of the great festa of Shrove Tuesday, the time-honoured custom of
Tossing the Pancake, and the Pancake Grease. In those days poor Dean Buckland was
an invalid, and the traditional sovereign, presented by the Dean to the winner of the
pancake, was presented by Lord John Thynne, the Subdean, in his place.

“During my stay at Westminster, six and a quarter years, the whole pancake was only
once secured and the sovereign claimed, and if I describe tha ‘grease’ it will give a
good idea of the ‘greases’ of the olden time.

“Shrove Tuesday was always the day for the ‘grease’; there was an ‘early play’. No
school after breakfast and no Abbey to follow.

“The whole school were supposed to be in their several places behind the desks [at that
time all classes were still held up School], the masters all gathered together at the upper
end of the school.

“The doors of school were thrown open, and a procession of two entered: a verger of
the Abbey, bearing his silver mace, with the arms of Westminster onthe top, commonly
call his ‘holy poker’; followed by the College cook, Tolfrey by name, in a correct white
costume, flat white cap and apron, with frying-pan in hand, containing a large pancake.
The pancake was of peculiar formation, about half an inch thick, and kneaded up with
any amount of horsehair to give it consistency.

“The cook took his stand a few paces below the great iron bar which divided the school
in half. By this time all the school were crowding down the beches to the point where
the pancake might be expected to fall. A signal was given, the cook measured his
distance, and with a swing of the arm sent the pancake flying over the bar. If he missed
his shot he was ‘booked’ – i.e. had books thrown at him – but I never saw that occur.
Then the whole school broke loose, and rushed to catch the pancake as it fell, or to grab
it on the floor. Then for ten minutes or so there was a whirling mass of struggling lads,
which gradually subsided, when in general little or nothing of the pancake remained;
and if not secured practically whole no sovereign could be claimed.

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 “Now - I think it was in 1852 - the ‘third election’, Twiss’s ‘election’, happened to be
a strong, heavy lot, and, headed by Alfred Slade, they planned to get the pancake. Their
idea was to secure places by the monitors’ table, where there was an exit from the side-
benches, near the place where the pancake would fall, to dash out and form a close ring
sarm-in-arm round the pancake as it fell, one of their number being told off to creep in
and secure it. Their plan was well laid, and came off, so far as forming their ring was
concerned: but the pancake fell rather on the right of school, near the desks of the Fifth
Form, and all the press was on that side.

“Now, there was a small boy – I think in the Under Fifth – called George Francis Wells,
all honour be unto his name! He is now, I see, Rector of Boxford. He was a delicate boy
then, and you could always make his nose bleed by slapping him on the back, between
the shoulder blades; I therefore have much doubt whether he ever intended to go for the
pancake, but fate willed that his name should be handed down to posterity.

“Well was standing on the front-desk, when the ‘third election’ closed in on the
pancake, and made their ring close to where Wells stood. Some fellow gave him a push;
he fell forward into the middle of the ring, and found himself actually on top of the
pancake. He grasped his opportunity, and the pancake, unbuttoned his waistcoat as he
lay upon the floor, slipped the pancake in, buttoned up again, and then managed to
wriggle out of the scrimmage on his hands and knees. With preternatural wisdom he
held his tongue, the ‘grease’ gradually subsided, and not a vestige of the pancake was to
be seen.

“After school little Wells slipped away with his pancake to the Subdean’s, came back
with his sovereign, and no doubt he and his chums had a good tie over it at Mother
Shotton’s or elsewhere.”

The ‘greaze bar’ is a long iron bar crossing school that was originally to hold a curtain,
separately the Upper School from the Under School. The pancake has been thrown from
various directions up and down School at various stages of the school’s history. The early
history of the Pancake Greaze is unknown, but as Lawrie Tanner states in his history of the
school, it is most likely that it is a Tudor tradition. The earliest certain record that we have is
from Jeremy Bentham (at Westminster 1755-1760) who wrote: “One of our customs was to
make the College cook toss a pancake over the bar”.

It may be that a reference in Wit and Drollery. Jovial Poems. Printed for Obadiah Blagrave,
at the Bear in St Paul’s Church Yard, 1682 is referring to the School’s pancake-bell in the
introduction to one poem. There had been a Blagrave at Westminster under Busby a little
earlier than this and a Thomas Blagrave had been Master of the Abbey Choristers 1665-8.
The book contains the passage concerning The Tombs in Westminster Abbey... as chanted by
Brother Popplewell:

“ You must suppose it to be Easter Holy-Days: At what time Sisly and Dol, Kate and
Peggy, Moll and Nan, are marching to Westminster, with a Leash of Prentices before
’em who going rowing themselves along with their right Arms to make more hast... By

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 and by they hear the Bunch of Keys which rejoices their Hearts like the sound of the
Pancake-Bell. For now the Man of Comfort peeps over the spikes and beholding such a
learned Auditory, opens the Gate of Paradise, and by that time they are half got into the
first chapel...”

There had inevitably been difficulties of discipline associated with the Pancake Greaze. In the
1830s a cook had failed to get the pancake over the bar. He was ‘booked’ and made a hasty
retreat to College Hall. Pursued through the cloisters by the pupils, it was only when he got
back to his kitchen that he felt safe from the mob. In 1865 a new chef failed on his two
allotted tries to get the pancake over the bar. This time he was monstrously ‘booked’ with the
heavy tome of Liddell and Scott’s Greek Lexicon by a Welsh pupil called Morgan. In his
history of the School, John Field goes on to say that the panic stricken and enraged cook
flung the pan into the mass of threatening boys, striking George Dasent on the head and
opening up a gash above his eye. Blood flowed; the cook fled, and was instantly dismissed. A
woman was appointed in his place. In his Annals of an Eventful Life, Dasent tells the tale
slightly differently.

“There was Shrove-Tuesday, and its pancake, and its cook, who sometimes failed to
toss it over the bar, and, when he did fail, was “booked;” that is to say, every boy
threw a book at him, much to Ginger the bookseller’s benefit, and he fled as fast as he
could lay legs to the ground down school, with all but the sixth form and seniors at his
heels. The sixth form were like the 10th Lancers: as the tenth never danced, the sixth
never ran; they were like the gods, they had a motion of their own; they walked down
school. Every one in any other from had to run up and down school. The pancake-
tossing still exists, but sometimes, when the cook fails, and is booked, he gets in a
rage, and throws his frying pan at some boy’s head with considerable effect. I think I
may say had the cook in our time attempted such a thing, there would have been left a
bit of him to boil or roast. He would have been torn to pieces, and an inquest of Old
Westminsters would have sat on the bits, and brought in a unanimous verdict of
Justifiable Coquicide.”

In 1883 William Gunion Rutherford succeeded to Head Master. In his history of the School
another Head Master, John Carleton wrote

“ He brought with him to Westminster a reputation as a Greek scholar of the first rank,
and he was also reputed to be not afraid of upsetting established views. But his training
had not altogether prepared him for his new task. He had not himself been to a public
school and was naturally impatient of tradition.... He came to make sweeping
changes....

“One of his first actions was to abolish ‘Water’, ... it gave great offence to many who
rightly regarded rowing as essential to the welfare of the school, and it was
characteristic of Rutherford’s generosity that he took all the obloquy upon himself.

“But Rutherford’s curtailment of the ancient Pancake Greaze brought down a

cloudburst of wrathful protest upon his head. After his first attendance at the curious

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 old ceremony, in which the whole school had always taken part, he expressed the
opinion to the Sixth Form that it was an ‘ungentlemanly performance’ and requested
that they would not take part in it. Next Shrove Tuesday the edict went forth that
instead of the whole school one representative only from each form should be permitted
to try for the pancake. Rutherford was right, of course, he usually was. The old form of
Greaze was an absurd anachronism. But his methods were as tactless as his ideas were
admirable. Not to be outdone, some forty boys under the leadership of H P Lowe, QS
Monitor, who donned the Cook’s clothes, organized a supplementary Greaze of a more
exciting nature. In the middle of the fun Rutherford reappeared on the scene and the
impromptu Greaze came to an abrupt end. The culprits’ names were taken and the Head
Master departed, majestic in his wrath, leaving them breathing fire and slaughter
against him. They could not perceive that the old order had passed.

“A head master may be a great man without necessarily being a great head master, and
for a few years at least Rutherford’s was, in a way, his weakness. He had a flair for
doing the right thing at the wrong tie. Most of his reforms were excellent in themselves,
and had they been carried out in a conciliatory spirit there is no doubt that they would
have found general acceptance. But his direct and vigorous mind made him impatient
of opposition....”

During the twentieth century Westminster School and its proximity to Parliament made it
occasionally the basis for political cartoons. The greaze is a recurrent theme. Here are two
cartoons

the first from 1927, the second 1930.

When the School returned to Westminster after its war time sojourn in Herefordshire, they
came home to the ruins of School and the Dormitory. The first post war greaze was held up
School in 1946. But the greaze bar had been broken during the air raid of May 1941, so it had
to be temporarily tied in place for that ceremony. In 1960 School was rebuilt to its current
style and the greaze bar was once more in place. Traditional greazes could continue, with
contestants borrowing or hiring more and more outlandish costumes (the gorilla was an

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annual favourite, but the front and back end of a horse was one that got a particular cheer in
the late 70s. In the early 80s Charles Mallory and a group of friends with great daring and
very expertly removed and hid the greaze bar in the Fives Courts as a protest bout the
exclusion of a friend. Dire threats ensured that it was returned the day before the greaze was
held –w hat would the rest of the School have had to say there had been no occasion for the
Dean to beg the Play as he has traditionally done. Despite the Under Master in the late 90s
referring the risk to the Healthy and Safety Committee, this exceptionally daft ceremony has
continued, though diminished further with no Fifth Form participants and now carried out on
safer matting than the mahogany flooring could offer.
In 1946 Andrew Potter took part in the first post war greaze. Andrew was to son of Stephen,
who had himself taken part in the greaze some thirty or so years previously. Stephen had a
successful career as a both as an academic and as a broadcaster in addition to being a writer
of humorous works (including Gamesmanship (1947), Lifemanship (1950), One-upmanship
(1952)). He felt that he should celebrate the father-son participation in the greaze with a
special note on Greazemanship, which subsequently appeared in the
Ashburnham/Homeboarders’ House magazine:

A NOTE ON GREAZEMANSHIP

(Editor’s Note: the Pancake Greaze was won this year by a Homeburnhamite, J.J.
Potter, whose father, Stephen Potter, had done the same thirty years
before. As, so far as we know, this is an unprecedented occurrence, it
seems fitting to publish the following article.)

Is Greazemanship hereditary?

I think we most of us know something of the arguments for and against this difficult
question, and I should not propose, even if I were qualified, to add to them now.

What I can try to do is something much simpler. As an Old Greazer who has had some
success in the past, I can and have attempted to hand on to the younger generation a few
hints, the practical advice of a journeyman Greazer.

Any boy who wants to win the pancake must first of all build up an outward appearance
of complete indifference. It is “a bore” ….. “laid on to please the parents”…. “tradition
continued to the point of affectation.” By this means he may

(a) succeed in persuading other members of the form that since there is no fun in it for
themselves they may as well see to it that somebody else gets elected.
At the same time
(b) the other greazers, who have been already elected, will be put off their guard by the
Experienced Greazeman, who, if he shows real aptitude, will be able to make his
rivals feel that it is out of date, if not actually bad form, to make any real attempt to
get the pancake at all.

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Move Two is the simple carry-on of the indifference gambit. Make no effort, when lining up,
to struggle for the centre, but stroll casually to the wing position, which is of course the best.

Three. When told to look to the front while the pancake is about to be thrown over the bar,
you will, of course, do so for the good greazeman never cheats. But the Expert G. will not be
the last, but rather the first, to look over his shoulder to observe the angle of flight. The
practice of shouting “No Throw” after a perfectly orthodox delivery, though it wins many
pancakes, is frowned on by the older generation of greazemen.

Whether the pancake has been secured or not, situations can be retrieved, or advantages
maintained, by an agonized “My leg!” or a quieter “Look out, Lucas has fainted” which
usually leads to a reshuffle and a release of pressure.

A recent ploy or gambit which has pleased me is the Spontaneous Nosebleed, or the off-
putting display of blood before actual contact has been made. This certainly helps the winner
to take full advantage of the Aftergreaze, when, while apparently bleeding from several
gashes at once, he can say quite truthfully, “Only a scratch.”

I have received many letters about this incident, which include comments on the hereditary
aspect, and the question of “familial proneness” in the Greaze. I must apologize if I have not
yet been able to answer these.

Stephen Potter.