"Out of my way, you smog!" he growled, realizing that smog was a more acid irritant to Philip than sheeny. Yet he discovered and practised a more exquisite infliction. He knew that pig was anathema in Judæa, because Higson senior had once made a pathetic effort to veto this commodity from his household in response to Pentateuchal inhibition, an effort done to nought by the severe displeasure of Mrs. Higson and Higson junior.
Higson junior therefore introduced into the classroom the most succulent morsels from his midday ham sandwiches to devour them in lengthy bliss before Philip's sickened eyes. Philip began to discover little blobs of ham fat in his pockets and school bag. Upon one calamitous day he found as he devoured the first mouthful of his lunch a taste of unutterable impiety in his mouth. Looking with horror into his paper bag he found that its contents had been skilfully tampered with, (he kept his lunch stowed in the pockets of his coat hanging in the basement cloakroom), and that his mouth was now tainted with the abomination of desolation. He withdrew on the wings of disgust and scoured his mouth with water for the remainder of that interval, a process he repeated impetuously during the next few days as often as he recalled the dishonour of his mouth.
"What do you mean by it?" Higson asked Philip one afternoon.
"By what?"
"Killing Christ!"
Philip winced and turned away.
"I say, lads!" Higson said winking. "Let's have a lark with smoggie!"
"What's on, Turnips?"
"Let's crucify him!"
A slight gasp of horror rose from the Higson clientele.