Art and mangled legs
My tutor at secondary school (known as 'Mr F') was amazing - and scary. He had a quiff, a lincoln-style beard, and a history with motorbikes. He was the art teacher. He scared the shit out of us on the first day with a terrifying speech threatening detentions if we even drop a pencil on the floor. Then on day two he turned into the best teacher ever.

He used to talk about how cool bikes were - but then he said "but don't ever get one, or this will happen...". He rolled up his trouser leg to reveal a horrible jagged eight inch scar running down his shin. He often told us about his various disfiguring bike accidents. He also warned us about the consequences of trying to drive a car while wearing platform shoes. It involved a smashed brick wall and some fractured bones.

One day I was walking through the quad (open playground-type space at our school) when I saw Mr F and the equally deranged drama teacher ambush one of the 11th formers. Mr F was holding the 15 year-old's arms while the drama teacher repeatedly punched him in the stomach. I told my older brother about it, and he said "yeah, they do that to all the year 11 kids before they leave school".

And those were my formative years.
(Supermonkey, Fri 18 Mar 2011, 23:38, Reply)