My crowning moment of glory
The shittiest little shit in my year at secondary school was called...let's call him Glenn Brigham, for that was his name and he does not deserve anonymity.

I had a bit of a problem at that age (14) in that I had gone through puberty a couple of years before any of the other girls and was already wearing E cup bras. To add to this, the rest of my body hadn't quite caught up yet and so I had that skinny-body-plus-comedy-breasts look favoured by porn stars. This led a large proportion of the boys at school to believe I was a slut who would let them feel me up in class.

Glenn was no exception. On this occasion he had me pinned up against the wall of my tutor room, one hand on my breasts and one up my skirt, as his homies hollered misogynistic support for his antics. I tried to knee him in the bollocks as any sensible girl would but he kept dodging me somehow. Finally, I landed a spectacular slap to the face...except that I didn't. I missed by a couple of centimetres and succeeded only in causing his glasses to fly across the room and into the face of the deputy headteacher who had just walked into the room.

The deputy headteacher was a fearsome, menopausal, overweight, overbearing, Classic FM-listening nightmare. Actually she was a pretty decent person, but very strict and absolutely the last person you would want to witness such a scene.

As Glenn and his cronies whooped victoriously, she hauled me out into the corridor and demanded an explanation for my atrocious behaviour.

She didn't say anything to me. She simply opened the classroom door again, shoved me back in and hauled Glenn out. We didn't see him for the rest of the day.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Mon 13 Mar 2006, 13:56, Reply)