My favourite teacher went senile
So he wouldn't remember me now.
When he did remember me though, it was as a fat useless wanker who he refused to talk to. A massive disappointment, and squanderer of potential.

He taught me English, and had the usual traits of a great teacher. Infectious enthusiasm, eccentric, hilarious in a good mood, terrifying in a bad one. All his students responded well to this, and he always got 100% attendance and due respect.

I sat at the back of my class, usually hungover, always silent, but paying attention. Read all the books. All the essays were in on time. Sat, listened, wrote, for two years. Never gave him shit. Never fucked up. Absorbed everything he had to say. I walked away with an A*, and (ahem) the best mark in the year.

Unfortunately, my cretinous shit of a best friend, with whom I was as thick as the proverbial thief, sat next to me in the same class. Even more unfortunately, despite the massive disparity between our academic performance, we shared a weak physical resemblance to one another for those who couldn't be arsed to look too hard. And this teacher found it almost impossible to discern between us two. Although he knew one of us was a mute A-student and the other a wise-cracking semi-retarded twat, he never really got round to establishing which was which.

My mate walked away with an E grade. On results day, he was enthusiastically congratulated by our obviously confused teacher, who then saw me nearby, grinning and simpering, for all the world looking like I expected a fucking hug. He scowled at me, and shouted "I don't know what you've got to smile about. YOU'VE LET ME DOWN!"

And then, for reasons I will never fully understand, I apologised and ran away.

Naturally my friend thought the whole thing was fucking hilarious.
( Wet-chinned bag shanker Cannot parse Wogan, Fri 18 Mar 2011, 15:51, Reply)