Dulcet tones of Doom
This isn't much of a story, but bugger it, its tenuously linked!

My secondary school (what now feels like eons ago) was just on the edge of civilisation, and half a mile past that was a active quarry. When they were blasting, they'd run the air-raid-esque sirens.

This is little comfort to the newly-arrived eleven year olds (myself included), not helped by the fact our maths teacher was a sadistic prick who herded us under our desks so the "bomb wouldn't get us".

Picture the scene: our head of year strolling by and failing to hold in his laughter at 30 kids all hiding in pant-filling terror. In 1999.

Bastards.....
(Fleximus Rex briefly gave up lurking on, Tue 19 Jun 2012, 14:21, Reply)