Well, that taught 'em
Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.
One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.
ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."
What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?
( , Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
Sammi Evil Nice writes "I shared with two students, and it was always the same; whenever it was near to paytime, my milk *and only this* would disappear.
One of them, John, was a lovely bloke but allergic to nuts. John makes tea. Soon after, John starts swelling up.
ME: Runs, administers epi-pen. "You're going into anaphalactic shock."
HIM: "How do you know?"
ME: "I put almond oil in my milk."
What have you done to teach somebody a lesson?
( , Thu 26 Apr 2007, 14:54)
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Two stories for the price of one...
First, another 'how we got revenge on a crap teacher' story.
First term of lower-sixth in a boys-only grammar school. The French class I was in has achieved all A-grades at O-level (yes it was that long ago) due to having a truly brilliant teacher. Unfortunately he couldn't take our class any more, so we got this woman who (as she never tired of telling us) had just quit her job as a high-flying, highly-paid Fleet Street journo to 'pursue her true vocation' in teaching.
Short story: she was crap. She didn't know what she was talking about, got no respect, couldn't control the class -- and this was the best-performing, best behaved class in the year. By the end of the first term, our grades were averaging Ds and she basically spent the lessons telling us to read from text books. Anyone who dissented (which was most of us) was immediately sent to the lecture hall to read in private study.
Our revenge? We organised a group to go to the deputy head's office and complain about her. She didn't come back the following term.
What a bunch of girly swots we were!
And now rather less tasteful a story that was related to me by a friend:
As young-ish kids they used to love playing in the local woods. They had a den and everything, and hidden in the den a secret hole in the ground where they would hide 'treasure' -- sweets mostly. It was covered over and disguised so that no-one would be able to find their secret hoard.
Anyway, there was this group of older kids (isn't there always?) that would terrorise them now and again. Of course they found out about the den and one day they came back to find it kicked over and -- horror! -- the secret stash raided. Revenge was required.
So they rebuilt the den back to its former state. Then they opened up the hole, and dropped in a bunch of smashed glass. Then for good measure, took a dump in it, and stirred it all up.
They returned a few days later to find the nearby trees smeared with shit and blood. Ho ho!
( , Tue 1 May 2007, 10:09, Reply)
First, another 'how we got revenge on a crap teacher' story.
First term of lower-sixth in a boys-only grammar school. The French class I was in has achieved all A-grades at O-level (yes it was that long ago) due to having a truly brilliant teacher. Unfortunately he couldn't take our class any more, so we got this woman who (as she never tired of telling us) had just quit her job as a high-flying, highly-paid Fleet Street journo to 'pursue her true vocation' in teaching.
Short story: she was crap. She didn't know what she was talking about, got no respect, couldn't control the class -- and this was the best-performing, best behaved class in the year. By the end of the first term, our grades were averaging Ds and she basically spent the lessons telling us to read from text books. Anyone who dissented (which was most of us) was immediately sent to the lecture hall to read in private study.
Our revenge? We organised a group to go to the deputy head's office and complain about her. She didn't come back the following term.
What a bunch of girly swots we were!
And now rather less tasteful a story that was related to me by a friend:
As young-ish kids they used to love playing in the local woods. They had a den and everything, and hidden in the den a secret hole in the ground where they would hide 'treasure' -- sweets mostly. It was covered over and disguised so that no-one would be able to find their secret hoard.
Anyway, there was this group of older kids (isn't there always?) that would terrorise them now and again. Of course they found out about the den and one day they came back to find it kicked over and -- horror! -- the secret stash raided. Revenge was required.
So they rebuilt the den back to its former state. Then they opened up the hole, and dropped in a bunch of smashed glass. Then for good measure, took a dump in it, and stirred it all up.
They returned a few days later to find the nearby trees smeared with shit and blood. Ho ho!
( , Tue 1 May 2007, 10:09, Reply)
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