The Art of Coarse Fencing

by Teddy Bourne

The first thing a coarse fencer must do is to find a good club. Many persons seeking a fencing club for the first time may expect it to resemble, for example, The Queen's Club or Hurlingham. This will not normally be the case, and, if it is, the coarse fencer should shun it. The club will, in fact, resemble (or rather, be) the East India Docks Primary School for the Sons of Gentlefolk (Category IV). The true coarse club is an infants' school, so that all the chairs are so short that the jacket from your city suit trails on the ground when placed over the chair. (There will, of course, be no changing room.) The club should be in an area so rough that you get more training fighting your way through the local thugs than you do once inside. This will also give you plenty of practice in learning to ignore the constant cries of "Give us a tune, son" which your fencing bag will occasion.

The usual coarse fencer, incidentally, chooses a club as far away from home as possible. The London transport systems, for example, on any weekday evening are choc-a-bloc with fencers from Bexleyheath wending their way home from Victoria, passing as they go fencers from Hampstead travelling back from Lewisham. The reason for this phenomenon is not known, but it is thought to be due to the kick which fencers get out of the unpleasant things one can do to one's fellow travellers with the business end of a fencing bag.

A coarse club fitting the above description will usually for the past ten years have been promised better premises by the local education authority. There has never been any instance of a club moving into such new premises (or, if any has, I can only presume that it has ceased to be coarse).

Having found a club you must organise your kit. You will be told on joining that all you need to start with is (i) plimsolls (ii) trousers. "All the rest will be supplied." If you are not of a squeamish disposition and can face the club kit cupbord, this is quite true. You will be provided with : (i) card- board glove, with generous ventilation inlets: (ii) special easily-stored collapsible mask: (iii) jacket - one of two kinds: (a) foil or sabre jacket, made of lightweight canvas through which you can see daylight or (b) epee jacket - as used by medieval knights. (lf you are a male you will be surprised to find that nearly all the jackets are ladies' jackets: these can, however, be worn with a minimum of embarrassment if you remember to remove the breast protectors first.) I have also heard rumours of a thing called a "plastron" or some such name but no coarse fencer has ever been known to use one.

You are entitled to use the club weapons. These come in three kinds" which can be recognised by the comments made about them, as follows: (i) "Sorry, old chap - this one's a bit of a poker", (ii) (if a foil): "Sorry - I'm afraid it is a bit whippy" or (if a sabre) "Hela!" (If an epee it will probably be "Sorry - I wasn't going for there)" (iii) "I know we had it last week."

Having got "kitted up'" you are then free to lean on the window sill for the rest of the evening. If you are the extrovert type, however, you may ask someone to fence. They will reply "What weapon?" and whatever your answer may be the response will come: "Oh - l'm afraid l'm only doing (some other weapon) tonight." You may then both retire with honour to the tea room (see below). (The only variation on this is if you ask an international to fence: he will reply "l'm afraid I pulled a muscle in training last week")

lf you do actually go so far as to fight someone you will find that they (and you) fall into one of the following types:

(1) The stylist. When beaten, says ""Actually, I was purely working on my double-de-double." (More annoying still, he also says this when he wins.)

(2) The battering ram. As you begin to salute him he will bound forward uttering blood-curdling yells, knock your sword out of your hand and land a crunching blow on your funny bone or in the throat. As you collapse he will hit you again with a howl of glee and then (helping you up) say "I think the second one was good."

(4) The lnternational. Do not make the mistake of thinking that he will be dressed in sparkling new kit purchased with lavish sponsorship from aperitif manufacturers: you can recognise him because all his kit will have been borrowed from somebody else. When you ask him to fence and introduce yourself he will say "How do you do? I'm ARNOLD KRELGE" in a modest tone of voice. He will then spend the rest of the evening sulking because you had never heard of him.

(5) The camp follower. This is a member of the club who sits in the club all evening and when asked if he is fencing says "Not tonight"" mysteriously and refuses to answer further questions. No one ever knows why he is not fencing, but he never does. (N.B. There is a 5a: the camp hypochondriac: same as (5) but when asked why he is not fencing - tells you).

I now turn to the Tea Break. Contrary to the belief of many non-coarse fencers this is in fact the principal object of the evening (apart from the pub, q.v.). lt is also the main (some would say the only) justification for the existence of women foilists, who are excellent at brewing, washing-up, serving etc. The price is 5p for tea or coffee, but only if the club treasurer catches you.

Some clubs permit a break for five minutes fencing during tea.

At some stage you will have to master the intricacies of the Lesson List. To preserve fairness this should be rigidly first-come, first-served, except for internationals (injuries permitting), seniors, juniors, section fencers, county fencers, fencer fencers and the school dog; in these cases the teacher should have discretion.

Next, you must get to know the teachers

First, of course, comes the prof. No true coarse fencer will ever need to approach the prof, except on the first evening, when prof, will direct him to the club treasurer.

The coarse fencer will be more concerned with the beginners' teachers. These generally do not have surnames, but are compensated for this by the fact that they spend most of the evening helping lady pupils keep back straight and legs bent.

ln selecting a club it is important to choose one with a good local. Since no coarse fencing club has showers you should look for a pub where the landlord has chronic sinusitis. A couple of pints can do a great deal to alleviake the agony which may have been brought on by an inadvertant lunge perpetrated in the heat of the moment.

You will find that your club-mates who go drinking with you are eager to find out why you were not selected for the "C" team against Croydon University last week; do not miss the opportuniky of telling them.

There are, in conclusion, many discouragements which one might expect to make the coarse fencer once (or twice) relent: the unsavoury kit festooning the bathroom; the suppers eaten at 11.30pm and consequent indigestion; the asymetrical legs; the embarrassing gyrations of non-fencers who greet the announcement that you are a fencer by flailing their arms and shouting "Foiled again, eh!" as if they had just invented it; and many more.

Nevertheless, coarse fencing flourishes. Something about the healthy exercise, good fellowship, intellectual challenge and institutionalised violence keeps the coarse fencer at it, both in the club and in competition. ln a future article, in fact, I hope to turn to the Art of Coarse Fencing Competitions but in the meantime I will close this "First Course" with an appropriate fanfare - a clash of blades and a roll of back feet !