Revenge is sweet.. well more chilli tabasco actually.
I was undoubtedly not the coolest kid in school.. blonde, acne, actually into learning stuff, listening to what people said and one of the few normal people in my class which had the reputation of being the "worst behaved in the year" as the teachers always kept reminding us.

As a result of learning to deflect the general shit that came with a class of nutters I had an okayish time at school.. I got along with the class bully (who's family was pretty messed up) and even learnt to laugh off and avoid the enevitable conclusions of his favourite catch phrases such as the mirthful "Doo yoooo WANNA PUNCH?!" and the classic, slightly more rhetorical "Doo yoooo want ANOTHER PUNCH?!" Basically you kept him sweet talking about making bombs and anything else that he found appealing and you just got along dandy.. For all his "little faults" I actually got to like him by the end of school. I saw him a few years back and he had a stunning wife who didn't even look bruised. - Though her shirt did cover her upper arms and the ever favourite "BCG" target point. (Maybe he'd reformed or maybe some women just love a violent nutter.. the world is a strange place)

Anyway I digress from my only real pinacle of fame while at school..
I used to hang out with the other quasi-normal members of my class in a maths room where you could get away from most of the nuttier side of our year and play games on the old BBCs. This was great until a nasty piece of work from the year above (who we nick named "psycho kid" (behind his back for obvious reasons)) started to make our lives hell. He'd turn up mid break with his laughing-boy cronies before their lesson started and just lay into us for no reason. You could see him trying different ways to intimidate you and generally try anything to make his mates laugh at us.. wanker.

I've never been worried about being a bit short, but this guy was and had the personailty equivalent of a small psychotic pit bull.. you know, sort of undersized, a bit of a chip on his shoulder and mainly scary due to excessive mouthyness and the odd bit of unrestrained psychotic behaviour. Think Ben Kingsly in Sexy Beast..

Not being one to get pushed around and not do *something* about it I devised a cunning plan.. Lemon sherberts were the sweet of choice at that time and for those not in the know they're an old skool hard boiled sweet filled with err.. sherbert. I found that if you painted them with Tabasco sauce and left them to dry in the sun you could turn something that looked like an innocent glazed lemony treat into the sort of uber-hot food you'd require an arms export license for to sell abroad.. The sort of thing your local indian might serve you if you called the waiter a poof, belched in his face and then bragged about how you "always order a Phal!!" to all your laughing dickhead mates. You know.. really really quite hot.

One weekend and several re-applications of Tabasco later I was ready to go.. In walks psycho kid, my mate Matt gets pushed about a bit first, at which point I offer John a sherbert out of an innocent little white paper bag. John eats the "safe" lemon sherbert he had already pre-concealed in his hand and starts crunching as loudly as possible in case psycho kid hasn't noticed..

Psycho Kid: OI! What's that you got there?
Me: (mumbles) nothing..
Psycho Kid: Give us one - NOW.
Me: have em, sniff. (I dump the whole bag on the table and act like I'm about to cry, quickly legging it out the class room.)

Five seconds later I was 10 meters up the corridor looking for somewhere safe when I hear psycho kid shout "SHiiIIT!!" followed by the sound of hard boiled sweets bouncing off a window and much laughing! :-) What a result! I stop to smirk and he runs out of the class room and up the corridor towards me looking red faced and out for blood. I was feeling a bit cocky by this point with the confidence that I'd made him look a total asshat infront of his mates. I figured I may as well go for the nuclear option and have it out with him there and then as well. He got right up in my face, saw I wasn't backing down and then suddenly "realised" that he badly needed the water fountain to save face. i.e. I faced up to him and he completely wussed out. Yay!

For some reason we never got any more hassle after out of that lot. My dad was amused when I told him about my day at school and used the same lemon inferno sherberts a few months later when he found snacks kept on getting stolen from his desk at work.
(OrangeMochaFrappuccino last watched Dexter on, Sun 17 May 2009, 19:52, 2 replies)

Uber Bully
'Although I never got anyone to actually kill themselves, I still consider myself to have been the best bully I have known.

I was suspended once for telling the diabetic kid in our school that he was "a bit a of a freak". This was the official reason given to my parents on the letter of suspension. But the truth was that, through two and a half years of relentless bullying, the stress had actually caused him to DEVELOP diabetes, and move to a new school. It wasn't very clever stuff ('You're gay', 'You look like a cat, Catman', 'your mother is a hermaphrodite who tried to seduce me', 'your 8-year-old sister is actually your father's 34-year-old gay lover' etc. etc.) but it was never-ending. I remember the head of middle school telling me as he sent me home that the poor boy would "have to inject himself with insulin every day for the rest of his life."

Well, I met him not six months later and it turned out that the diabetes had completely disappeared after the bullying stopped, so he didn't have to inject himself anymore.

I think I'm owed an apology. Someone owes me an apology'

NB this is a repost of my story from LOTP. This at least has the benefit of being true, rather than being lifted directly from that site...*looks pointedly at various users*
(TheBoyTucker, Sun 17 May 2009, 18:03, 1 reply)

I think this is a relevant pearoast, too.
Having described my first experiences of house-sharing at uni in the post below, as well as in a previous QOTW, I had one year of lovely, relaxed, sane housemates the following year, then insane, OCD Bavarian Estella for a neighbour in Switzerland, then Xenia, the best and maddest roommate ever in Pervland (by the time she moved back to Greece she could quote Eddie Izzard verbatim and had a voracious appetite for South Park episodes, having never seen it), then I came back to Canterbury for one last year, and ended up living four doors away from the house I'd lived in with the five freaks in my first year.

While the boys mostly kept themselves to themselves, the girls were another matter. To start with, there was Stupid Neapolitan Bint who I have mentioned before. A shit-stirring, alcoholic, cat-obsessed, backstabbing tart whose favourite pastimes were getting drunk at 1 in the afternoon, going to Ann Summers to buy vibrators and insisting we all saw them, screeching her way in from the Works (anyone who has lived in a student town, or especially Canterbury, knows the kind of people that go to Pop Ya Cherry night, and why anyone with half a brain would hate living with one of them, let alone four) where she had done the fake lesbian thing with her mates all night, at 3am, banging on all the doors in the house and yelling "PENIS!" outside each of them. She annoyed me the most by bitching about me on Facebook and a couple of other student sites (usually for some imagined slight, like she accused me of breaking her phone when she'd dropped it in a glass of rum and coke (WHEN I WAS DRUNK LOL!!) and it had lost all her numbers. It was not, in fact, the clean water that I'd used to clean the circuits, that had buggered it, but the alcohol). In spite of this, she still used to expect me to let her see my French seminar work and wake her up to go to translation class on a Thursday.

However the thing that made me seriously consider moving out (and start tearing off those little "housemate wanted" slips that materialise in student towns when people realise they're missing a housemate or that they're living with mental cases), was the way her and the other two girls ganged up on me, pretty much constantly. Mr Maladicta and I met properly in freshers' week, and started dating pretty much immediately. So far so good, thinks I; he spends a couple of nights at mine, and from then on we pretty much live at his, with me going home to get clean clothes and study and swap books around, and sleeping at his 99% of the time. Girl Housemates did not like this; sure, I'd have a cup of tea with them and catch up with them, but they didn't like me having friends outside the house, or going out with Mr Maladicta when I could be having a "house night out". Bearing in mind that our tastes in music were poles apart (they favoured R&B, house, rap and happy hardcore, whereas I'll listen to anything but and used to have to blare Judas Priest at full volume to drown out Fiddy when I was home), I wasn't really up to getting blind drunk (they believed this was the only way to truly enjoy a night out; get absolutely paralytic at home and then stagger to the club to get more drunk) and spending the night fending off the pervy old men in Baa Bars. So, I used to politely decline, saying I wasn't feeling up to it, or had work to do, or it wasn't my thing, and they never really took no for an answer, and would pester me every ten minutes right up until they left.

*knock knock*
Me: What?
SNB/whoever: We're going to the Works in an hour, are you coming?
Me: Nope. Got 1000 words to write in Italian about renewable energy by 10am tomorrow.
SNB: Boooooooooo! Boring! Come to the Works with us!! You've got just enough time to get ready!!
Me: No, I can't - this counts for 30% of my final grade, and if you think I'm pissing that up the wall to spend a few hours in a fleapit, you can fuck right off.
SNB: Still think you're boring.

(repeat ad nauseam until ten minutes before the taxi arrived)

The three girls had this insane idea in their heads that we should be The Single House (read: The House Of Stupid Whores), and as I was so insanely selfish as to enjoy spending time with Mr Maladicta and to want to carry on spending time with him, I was killing their buzz, or something, and they would regularly sit me down and tell me to dump him for some imagined slight "He took ten seconds too long to answer your text today, you should finish with him!", "He doesn't like us, you should dump him..." and if they had planned a "house dinner" or other house event (anything from another club night to poker), without giving me a lot of notice and then getting stroppy when I already had plans:

Witch #2: MALADICTA! What are you doing Sunday?
Me: Well... it's Mr Maladicta's nan's birthday, so we're going over to Whitstable to see her.
Witch 3#: Oh COME ON! We're all going, don't be so boring!
Me: This has been planned for ages, I've already said I'm going, I've promised him I'll be there, so I'm not backing out. Sorry.

After a few times like this, they took to having a dig every time they organised something "and of course you're invited Maladicta, if you have space in your diary, that is." Of course, I inevitably wouldn't, and spent less and less time there over the course of the months that followed just to get away from the grief I would get for having friends outside the house. I do think if they hadn't forced it so much and let me come and go as I pleased, they would have been OK to live with.

This meant, though, that they concentrated all their grief into the brief time windows when I was home. I'd come home from Mr Maladicta's, lock my door behind me, and would only have to so much as turn on my (quiet) laptop and cough and the first thing I'd find when I logged into Facebook was a message from Witch #3 saying this and never anything more:

"Are you actually home? ;)"

Perhaps I'm just a total misanthrope, but this used to rub me up the wrong way something terrible: she wanted to know if I was around, but wasn't arsed enough to leave her PC and knock, and find out instantaneously if I was home. As it was, with my earphones in, travel kettle boiling for tea, and studying in my own silence, I managed to block it all out and that just about kept me sane. Mr Maladicta didn't believe me at first, till he realised it was very much an ongoing problem and that they really were doing my head in. This meant he spent even less time than before at my place (he also didn't like my bed, which was too short and too narrow for him, plus sponge mattresses are never nice) and wound them up even more "Why does [Mr Maladicta] never come and visit you here? Why do you always go to his?" I literally used to have to sneak ninja-like (silently, making sure no one was about at all) out of the house if I was going anywhere with friends... and even then if someone had seen me go I'd get a text (usually from Witch #3, who was probably the chief pain in the arse) saying "You rushed off today. Where were you going? When will you be back?". Gah.

EDIT: The other thing they did that convinced me they were insane was try to persuade me to finish with Mr Maladicta and go out with Creepy Dave instead, saying he was "better for you".

It got to the stage that, if they did have plans to do something and I'd feigned ignorance, I would switch off my phone, hide offline on MSN and take the laptop under the duvet just to get some peace and quiet to actually study as everything I said or did in their eyes was wrong and not how I should be acting in my final year at all (excuse me for wanting to do well and have a healthy relationship, which tends to mean spending time with the one you love). They all finished their finals before me, and spent the weeks that followed while I was trying to cram the names of Italian Camorra bosses into my head, running back and forth under my window and screeching that they were going to "get" each other with water pistols and winding me up even more.

At first, I didn't think I knew enough about them to dislike them, but the constant nagging me to finish with someone I was happy with for their own selfish ideal really makes me angry. I defriended them all on Facebook about a month ago - not long after the split - because I knew they'd be the first to comment on it and I was right; SNB jumped all over it the minute she realised. Apparently unfriending them wasn't enough, though, since Witch #3 sent me a message a couple of days ago asking "how I was ;)". Needless to say, all five of them are blocked now.
( Maladicta, Sun 17 May 2009, 16:57, 10 replies)

Fat nerd
Between the ages of 5 and 8 I had a boyfriend and loads of friends. Maybe it was the grown-up patent shoes that converted into slip-ons in a single swivel of the strap, or my Alacarte Kitchen and post-office-in-a-suitcase... anyway, I was popular. Then one by one, over the course of a year, all but one of my friends left for other schools (and in many cases, other countries).

The bullying soon started, with one illiterate scumbag called Louise pushing me into a nettle filled ditch and punching me in the face.

Then, when I started puberty a couple of years later I grew boobs and put on a lot of weight in a short space of time. I was accused of stuffing my bra, called a variety of fat-themed names and they also made up songs about me. It got worse through high school, as they taunted me for my decent grades (how is 'boffin' an insult exactly?), my accent and my weight.

I developed a very efficient way to deal with name-calling: When they called out "oi fatty", I would turn to them, grin, wave enthusiastically and say "hello!" in a cheery voice. This confuses and angers them at first, but after a while they just give up.

Of the resident gang of bitches, Katherine was the worst. 5 foot 8 of amateur make-up and straightened bleached hair. She was at least 2 sizes bigger than me, but at 10 inches taller it was easier to hide (so she still mocked me for my weight). She slammed my head into a coat-hook and started a rumour that I was a lesbian...

Anyway, I digress.

Years later, size 10 with a great job and happily married, I tracked down many of the bitches through myspace and facebook. For the most part the bitches are now fat, haggard single mothers. The icing on the cake was Katherine's former boyfriend tracking me down to ask me on a date - apologising for being horrible to me at school because he didn't want Katherine to beat him up.

These people blighted my childhood, but at least now I can rejoice in their misery. That's healthy, isn't it? :D
(Supermonkey, Sun 17 May 2009, 16:22, 4 replies)

ashley cole
just brings out the bully in me.....
(norfolkngood, Sun 17 May 2009, 16:22, 2 replies)

It really pains me to say this.
Way back in Year 4 (that's age 8-9), there was rather weird boy in the
class called "Aldiar". I think quite a lot of people must have bullied
him (myself included), because he left the school after a couple of
terms.

From what I can remember, we used to tie him up with skipping ropes in
the corner of the playground*, and through balls at him. When the
teachers came over, we claimed we were playing "WWII Fighter
Aeroplanes".

*memory may be slightly imprecise.

EDIT: due to intense dislike of the above, I feel I should make clear that this was most likely an episode made up several years later as a joke.
( ejlflop errrrrgs. Regularly., Sun 17 May 2009, 15:20, 3 replies)

A slightly shorter story
One of my housemates at the moment is attempting to bully me, because she doesn't like me and because she feels the need to assert that she's a better person than me.

She has failed to take heed of two very important things:

1) If you're going to bully someone, make sure that you're not already the most hated housemate who has unwittingly provided lots of ammunition to all your other housemates, and;

2) If you're going to attempt physical violence in bullying, be sure to actually attack the person you are attempting to bully. Be sure not to attack their bedroom door, as this will lead to ensuing hilarity amongst your other housemates when they walk out of the kitchen and see you beating up the door.

Silly girl, she was going at it like hammer and tongs until someone else saw her (attacking the door that is, you pervs!), and now is mocked at every turn. Ah well, it's hilarious anyway.

Length? Nothing like a quickie.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sun 17 May 2009, 14:59, Reply)

How to manage a bully in the lavatory
A smallish kid Matt who was in 7th grade with me was always bullied by a larger kid - he showed us all what to do. The bigger kid, Raul i think he was called, seemed to know no bounds and went on with his harassment at all times. He was a monstrous kid who stood maybe 6 or more feet tall, with a sort of baby mustachio coming in - at grade 7 - he was more of a freak than anyone else there.

Anyways one day Matt is taking a piss at the urinals when Raul comes in and starts giving him comments about penis size (its a 'small world' etc etc). Seems Matt had had enough that day as he turned, mid-stream and proceeded to piss all over the front of Raul's shirt and pants.

The big dog bully turned into the most prissy little girl ever and went screaming into the hall 'Ahhhhhh! He wet me! He wet me!!!!! Ahhhh' Being the middle of a class change, everyone got the chance to laugh and point. Matt came out smugly and zipped up in front of everyone. Raul cried in the office until his Mommy brought him clean pants.

Matt got an hour detention and the rest of us were left to wonder why we hadn't thought of this before. Raul the bully became a pussy cat and never bothered anyone again.
( teknikl, Sun 17 May 2009, 14:21, Reply)

Revenge is sweet...
...but not fattening, as the joke goes.

OK, I was bullied at school. And I'm not underestimating the impact that it's had on my life for a moment. I was bullied from about the age of 10-11 till I was 18 - long after it's normally finished for people. Physical abuse, being called "gay" constantly, and so on.

Not nice.

I suppose I was fortunate at 18 to go to Uni and find people who like me for who I am. I was suddenly popular, and to this day I think / hope / realise that I have lots of people in my life who love me for me, warts and all.

However - and here's the point of the post - I bear no malice whatsoever to the people who made my life hell. Who brought about the first of many (obviously unsuccessful) attempts at suicide. And so forth. Nor do I have malice against those people who in "grown up" life have done me harm, whether intentionally or not.

Because to still harbour feelings of any kind for the bullies / your ex / anyone who's not having a direct impact on your life *at this moment in time*, as opposed to having an impact because you are thinking about past events - anyway, to still have those feelings is to still be trapped in that place, with that negativity.

Sorry if it's psychobabble, but seriously...let go and move on...if you have people now in your life who love and value you for who you are, then major on that, and let the past go rot. In peace, and undisturbed.
( I_Was_Mordred, Sun 17 May 2009, 14:09, 12 replies)

A tale from earlier in my life
So, here’s a story from the earlier years of my life, as opposed to one from the latters, which is my usual trick. When I was but a wee Ghost, I was a bit of a social misfit. My parents had moved around lots when I was young, so I ended up having to reintegrate myself into school society every now and then. Consequently, I never really learned how to deal with people in a long term capacity as I’d have to make new friends every now and then, and then fuck off and repeat the whole process a few months down the line.

Up until about the time I hit the age of 10 or 11, my family were moving always to different areas. From that age however, we settled down in one area and just ended up moving around that area a lot, but always kept me in the same school. Subsequently, I at last learned to deal with people, but never really fit in anywhere, cos I studied hard, and read books and didn’t really play sports, on account of being slightly worse at football and other sports than a mong is at performing brain surgery. I also had massive fuck-off jamjar thick glasses that I needed to see, and massive buck teeth at the time. Also, everyone knew everyone else from primary school and in some cases even from nursery school, so I didn't really have any friends, more acquaintances I knew in passing.

So with a sense of tedium and inevitability, I started to get picked on when I started secondary school. Speccy four-eyes and other such names were hurled at me, because I didn’t really know anyone, and because kids are so imaginative with their insults, it really was inevitable. A group of older lads, in year 11, decided to join in, in their own inimical way. This was when I was in year 7.

What physically happened next affected me for the rest of my life. No, it’s not a tale of impromptu pederasty and general buggery, although presumably that would have happened had I managed to attend a posh school, instead of the bog-standard comprehensive. It is something that has had effects on me for over a decade now.

Remember how I mentioned earlier that I had buck teeth at the time? Because I was also small and scrawny at that age, I also got called Rat and Mouse, mainly by these kids in year 11, but also by anyone in general who wanted to join in. Al fresco bullying is so fun. Especially when the kids bullying you are 15 and 16, and you’re 11.

Then they decided to up the ante.

Given that they were 16, they were bigger than me. A lot bigger than me. One resembled Mike Tyson’s steroid abusing mong brother. So they attacked me physically, but not in the usual beatings sense. They used to pummel me lightly to exhaust me, and then pin me to the floor. Given that there were four of them, that was easy enough for two of them to pin my arms, Mike Tyson’s mong brother to sit on my legs, whilst the fourth one force-fed me cheese.

Yes. They force-fed me cheese as a way of bullying.

Their logic behind this was actually simple. Rats and mice eat cheese. Ghost looks like a rat or a mouse, depending on your mood. Ergo, Ghost eats cheese.

Only thing is, they hadn’t counted on my gag reflex.

Ghost does not eat cheese well, especially when force-fed.

“BLEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAARCH!” I believe was my response to being beaten up, pinned down and forcefed cheese.
I wasn’t lactose intolerant, I hasten to add, I just have problems with being forcefed cheese and being lightly beaten up. This outpouring of my stomach did not endear me to my bullies, who objected to being violently vommed on. They reacted by beating me up again.

I was ashamed of my reaction, and slunk off home and washed my dirty clothing before my mum could get to me. I lied to her about the bruises on my legs and stomach, saying that I had taken up playing football despite being about as technically competent at football as Christopher Reeve was in his latter days.

This cycle of bullying continued. Almost every day I was beaten up, pinned down, and forcefed cheese. Which I promptly sicked up, usually all over myself as my bullies soon wised-up to my habit of releasing the contents of my stomach back into the fresh air for one last look around.

This continued for several weeks until one day I gave up sneaking home and washing myself and my clothing, and just wandered home covered in sick and got collared by my mum. The entire story eventually came out, along with the reason I hadn’t been eating my carefully prepared ham and cheese sandwiches. My mum got in contact with the school, and that form of bullying soon ceased as the kids who carried it out weren’t ashamed of what they’d done, and as a consequence, were expelled.

The rest of the bullying stopped when I got into a fist fight with another kid who had been bullying me for a while, after school and beat the almighty living shit out of him, and got myself suspended in the process. Was totally worth the weeks suspension though as everyone started to like me after that. That or they started to pick on the kid I’d beaten up.

But to this day, I cannot eat cheese. I boke a little at the mere smell of cheese of any kind. I go for proper heaves and full stomach evacuation if I taste cheese.

So there you go. One of my favourite foods of the time had been ruined because of bullying.

Apologies for length, it’s been going for over a decade now and won’t let up.
(Ghost Atreides enjoying incontestable health benefits on, Sun 17 May 2009, 13:35, 7 replies)

when you look back....
I went paintballing the other day and whilst I was getting the saftey low down I noticed a few familiar faces in another group. The faces were of my schools under belly of scum. Its been nearly 20 years since I was at school, but the stigma attached to a bully lasts that long. I looked at them from behind my mask and then looked at my friends, the same friends I had from school enjoying a day out paintballing as mates.
It makes a difference, school kids, grow up to be adults, mums of school kids have husbands who know the names and how they have treated their son or daughter, they have friends, they also have friends. Snowball that into a network of senior and rising adult opinion, employment base and perception of a person. You will find, that a bully will not have the warm reception when he later in life meets a girl, from their parents, applies for a job of any worth, or has children and wants to attend a school were one of the network has had an opinion. Rightly or wrongly.
In short if your shit to people when your younger and dont turn it around double quick, your life will probably turn out to be confined to the lowest of shits as mates and work colleagues. so have that for every dead arm and taunt you bunch of worthless cunts.
(wobbler, Sun 17 May 2009, 8:55, 3 replies)

I was in the student union tonight (surprise surprise)
While the bar was being staffed by two female friends of mine.

Enter the daddy-long-legs.

Cue them running out from behind the bar and refusing to go back until I caught it and threw it out of the window.

This happened about once an hour for the five hours I was there. I finally left about 10 minutes before closing time.




Just after closing time, when I knew the more excitable of the two would be waiting, alone in the dark, for her taxi home, I sent her a text reading:

"There have been reported sightings of vampire moths in the area. Whatever you do, DON'T LOOK LIKE A TREE".




She will try to kill me tomorrow, but I think that's a small price to pay.
( MatJ LOOK, Sun 17 May 2009, 3:02, 3 replies)

Primary School
and the area I was living in I was bullied mercilessly as I was a weedy, thoughtful, bookish type (and admittedlya little precoscious) but my life was made a misery for the majority of my pre pubescent years at school and evenings and weekends in the local parks by a bunch of ignorant fuckers that didn't really know any better, their leader a fat slug called Gary.....I moved to secondary school outside of the area, made new friends and never really thought about it until one day I found myself playing in the front row against a team containing the fat turd. I was 17 by then, a super fit brick shithouse and took great delight in stamping on his turdy little malnourished head at every available opportunity for the next eighty minutes....cunt.
(Oil Slick, Sun 17 May 2009, 1:37, 3 replies)

Losing my virginity
My first B3TA post so please be nice. I like to think that upper school wasn't too hideous, however there was one fellow student in particular who liked to destroy what little confidence my group of friends had on a weekly basis. We were on the fringe of school society, hardly known by the popular crowd however fast forward five years and we are all still the best of friends in contrast to those who had nothing better to do than to take the piss. the point of this post you ask? my reaction to the death of the 'one fellow student', it doesn't matter how, (alcohol induced) what matters is the reaction of those whose lives he ridiculed. The words; 'sorely missed,' 'one in a millon,' and 'a really good mate' spewed by some of those he chose to bully.

My anger? both at the hypocrisy of some of these reactions and the lack of courage people showed in their memories of him on the 'memorial facebook group'. Death of anyone sudden is a tragedy for those who hold that individual dear, however what are you to do when someone who tried to routinely humiliate you is now immortalised in local culture as an 'angel'....

bitter you might suggest?

No..... just angry that those who should have stood up for themselves were the first in the line to kiss arse.

The posts will improve with experience... so will the humour, that I can guarantee!
(Gosamyr occasionally to be found at, Sun 17 May 2009, 0:25, 14 replies)

Buggery from bullies at boarding school...
...is something of a myth. I went through boarding school without any sort of sex whatsoever (boo-hoo). At junior school I got quite a lot of verbal stick from a twunt called Nick Governor. Governor died in his early twenties when he fell off a roof at a party and no, I didn't get the champagne out, as I really wasn't bothered either way. Life had, fortunately, moved on.

Senior school - well I was a pretty good target for bullying. I listened to classical music. I was the most crap at sport that the school ever had. And I had the social skills of the Elephant Man before Anthony Hopkins gave him an education. So how did I avoid getting grief? Simple - I made people laugh. I am not, and never will be, a great (or even good) comedian but somehow I learned that if you can make potential tormentors laugh, you can save yourself a lot of problems. I'm sure this doesn't work in all situations but it did work for me.

Last year at school - and for some reason there were only 7 kids in the Upper 6th in my house (we were organised on the Hogwarts basis). Result was that most of my mates were in the Lower 6th, and at our school people thought that if you were in the year above you were as fool as cuck, even if you were a spacktard like me. One day I came across a kid called Hopson who was being given a terrible time by his Lower 6th classmates. It was part psychological, part physical, and pretty unpleasant to behold. I rescued him, knowing from past experience that this was one kid who would never stand up for himself whatever they did to him, and my mere appearance, along with a few threats, was quite enough to see him left alone for the rest of his time at school.

I didn't expect gratitude. I know all about undermining authority and such. I expected him to ignore me. I certainly didn't expect him to start calling ME names! Yes, he'd shout inanities at me from out of the window until I had to advise him that unless he wanted to experience previously unknown realms of bullying, he'd better stop.

I don't get it. I write this nearly 30 years after the event and I don't get it. If anyone does know the answer to this, I would be grateful if you'd tell me.
(eesnahk, Sat 16 May 2009, 23:38, 4 replies)

It's cool being tall and big
No one fucks with you and you get to beat up whoever you want! this one time I made one of younger kids stand against the burglar bars and then I closed the window behind him so he was trapped there for the whole of break time. then we chucked food at him until he cried. A lot of kids went hungry that day, but it was worth it. he was a cunt anyways so it didn't bother me.

I also recall making a kid sit in his locker for the whole of breaktime. He was also a prize cunt.

I like to think that I taught these kids a valuable life lesson early on in life. You can't be a dickhead and get away with it. Really and truly I should have charged for that sort of guidance, but being the big hearted kind guy I am I gave it away for free.

I'm just as nice now as I was then. In fact I'm probably nicer.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Sat 16 May 2009, 22:11, 1 reply)

Bully am I
As I've said before in "School Days", I was generally a good kid at school. Clever, academically competent and didn't get in trouble with the teachers. And unlike a lot of b3tans, I was lucky enough not to get bullied after the age of about 12.

That because at about that age, things switched round and I became the bully. This is not intended as a defense or an excuse - I'm fully aware that what I did at school was completely and totally unacceptable, and I've tried to learn from it. It took one of my friends taking me aside and patiently explaining what I'd been doing for me to realise it.

I was and still am a big guy, overweight to be sure but with broad shoulders and physically rather strong. This meant that I was unlikely to be attacked physically. I also hated the idea of fighting, so physical was out, I went for verbal. I was the kid with the cutting comment, or vicious putdown, or just picking on someone else's weakness. Always with the sarcastic or insulting comment that's supposedly funny but is just plain nasty and hurtful.

But because I was a good kid, I traded off that reputation. This lead to me stabbing someone in the back with a pencil during class, and getting no punishment. I even punched one of my yearmates in the face and got no repercussions. He had a snowball in his hand, I lied and said that I was trying to knock it out of his hand and missed. I even deliberately gave an apology in front of a large group, trying to look all contrite just because I knew it would make me look innocent and feeling guilty about the 'accident'.

At times, I was an utter cunt.

What I want to explain is a way this can happen. When you get picked on verbally, you learn to fight back verbally. You learn to pretend that any jabs at your weight, or your looks don't hurt. Rather than denying the attack, you learn to ignore it and hit back harder.

Even after the bullying stops or goes away you can still feel defensive and unsafe. You keep attacking. It will become a habit. You will do it even when you are not being attacked. Each time, in order to keep feeling safe you say something a little worse and taunt them a little bit harder. It's very much like an addiction. You don't dive straight in but give yourself over to it in tiny degrees and you don't even notice. And if you're not doing it all the time (I wasn't) and are nice to your friends and others (at times) then you can get away with it.

As I said before this post is not a defense or an excuse. I was a complete arsehole and if I'd received a good kicking I would have bloody well deserved it. I just wanted to make two points

- Some bullies might be aware they're being an arse, but not just how bad they're being. Still doesn't excuse what they're doing
- It is possible for them to reform and turn (or at least try) into decent people.

And for what little it's worth... and I know how little that is, I'm sorry.
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Sat 16 May 2009, 21:45, 6 replies)

One of the themes I've noticed in this QOTW
is teachers either being completely oblivious to bullies, or claiming it was the bullied kid's fault that they were being bullied (because obviously it's our fault, isn't it?). Worse still is teachers wanting it to look like they're making an effort to stop someone being bullied and not realising they're making it ten times worse.

At my secondary school (I got no shit at my first primary school and far too much at my second, where most of the little shits followed into the upper school), they were very proud of their Zero Tolerance Towards Bullying policy. Interestingly, this seemed to consist of looking for bullying in the wrong places, not to mention dealing with it - whether real or perceived - in the most spackhanded way imaginable.

My Year 6 form tutor - we moved up to the upper school a year early, such was the idiocy of the school - saw that I occasionally got grief from some of the boys in our year (as this was pre-Luke, the bullying never really extended beyond "you're fat" and the odd spang with your own pencil case - unpleasant, but dealable with), and decided from this that I was being bullied every minute of every day. I don't know what it is about PE teachers, but they seem to be inherently stupid, and she was no exception. Her method of stopping it was to try and make me popular, including taking our PE classes "Who should be captain today? Let's see... Maladicta!" every week for weeks (and I hated netball, which was why I got grief in the first place, since I couldn't be arsed and would habitually drop the ball and violate the stupid footwork rule in the hopes of being allowed to sit out), and this just caused more annoyance for all involved. She would always ask me after the class, too "did you enjoy that?" before shepherding us all into the showers to dodge the spiders and each other's nakedness, and the answer was always no. It was about as subtle as a 16-ton weight and it just made it worse. The other girls had this annoying habit of wanting to do my hair (until I scratched my head one day and from then on I had nits, dandruff and greasy hair and no one wanted to touch it, something that lasted until sixth form when someone straightened it and then it was okay), which inevitably ended up with me having the same Croydon facelift as them (with the two little strands to frame your face, which is fucking tickly and annoying) and several kinds of lipbalm, one after the other. PE teacher sees this one day and squeals with delight "Oh, well done, girls! You've made Maladicta happy!"

Wait, what?

The 'kindness' would never last, as even though they'd tried to recreate me in their chavvy image, they'd still wind me up and tease me about the smallest thing.

Year 7 made it even worse: our form teacher this time around was a psychotic old bag who'd taught since Jesus was a lad and simultaneously took me under her wing and hated me at the same time. She was the one who sat my mum down one evening after school and told her that all the shit I was getting on a daily basis (Luke had joined this year and I was already sick of him) was entirely my own fault since I was "isolated" and wasn't like the other girls. She would send me out of the classroom so she could berate the rest of them for their behaviour, then get me back in and make them chorus "sorry Maladicta" before it would all kick off again. Lather, rinse, repeat. I did try to fit in with the other girls and did sort of succeed in one way, since for a brief period of time, in a very can't-be-arsed way, I had what they wanted. A Boyfriend. Sure, he was a year older than me, smelt of fish and still shared a bed with his mum (who accompanied us on our one and only 'date') but nonetheless, they were entranced (and would often try to make us do more than hold hands for their amusement). Hoping that this would get them to lay off for a while, I mentioned him in front of the psycho old bat, who promptly turned purple and screamed "You are FAR TOO YOUNG to have a BOYFRIEND!" at me, before storming out, presumably to slaughter a passing child for her lunch. This curried me no favour, and even less when Slaggy Jennie (daughter of a semi-famous cricket commentator, gaz me and I'll tell you who) had her annual village-hall-and-disco birthday party and conveniently 'forgot' to invite me. Psycho teacher abuses her position to call Slaggy Jennie's mum and demand she invites me because "Maladicta is a nice little girl". Needless to say, an invitation was grudgingly thrust my way the following morning and I was subjected to an evening on my own because no one wanted to dance with me and Jennie was using the dancefloor to prepare for her probable future career as a stripper.

To my mind at least, the number of bullying stories these days is to do with PC and the way teachers are allowed to talk to kids. Don't beat around the bush, teachers, don't try softly-softly approaches. Fucking threaten the cunts with everything in your power and it just may make more of a difference.
( Maladicta, Sat 16 May 2009, 19:17, 1 reply)

not particularly a funny but...
i hated school. i was the fat kid. Then year 9 made the mistake of telling one of my 'friends' i was a lesbian (in fact turns out i was bi, but at 14 i didnt know what that was lol. For the next few months, my life was made hell, finally building up to me getting cornered in the loo by 40 girls all baying for my blood, i got the kicking of my life, a teacher heard, walked into the loo, and closed the door. All becuase teachers in my school werent allowed to dicuss homosexuality in school. So they turned a blind eye to someone get the shit kicked out of them because there was a chance they might be gay. schools suck, im going to homeschool my kids when i have them
not even going to risk them going through what i did.
(santas_lil_hohoho is packing her vibrator suitcase, Sat 16 May 2009, 18:44, 16 replies)

An ugly red-haired twat of a bully once mugged my little brother, who was 9, of his bus money
so Bro had to walk to school, and was late, and got a slapped leg, etc.

Next day I was with Bro and obviously Carrot-Arse rolled up at the bus stop for more easy pickings.

I was only 10 but he wasn't having MY money, or Bro's either if I could help it, terrified though I was.

When he demanded our thruppences, I bravely croaked 'No!'
whereupon the bully kicked at me viciously.

I instinctively grabbed his foot and twisted it, so that he sprawled on the pavement. In my hurry to leg it, I then accidentally stamped hard on his fingers and turned on my heel, which must have at least skinned the bastard's knuckles.

We caught the bus and the day went as planned, and next day we set off fearfully for school, expecting vengeance...

...but none came. We only ever saw that prick afterwards from a distance and he certainly never threatened us again. My awesome ad hoc Kung Fu moves had triumphed!
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Sat 16 May 2009, 18:36, 8 replies)

As a 6th Former...
...we used to do everything we could to get something to put on our incredibly short CV, and a common activity was being a prefect. Duties were minimal apart from monitoring the corridors at lunch times to make sure students weren't messing about.

So me and my friends are sitting there inside near to the doors in order to catch the little bastards as they tried to get in. As usual it was the 13-14 year old kids repeatedly trying to get in, more to annoy us than because they wanted to.

On the day in question it was myself and my 6'5" brick shit house of a friend Darren's turn to sit inside, when this scruffy little nobhead whose name i never learnt came in and started strutting up and down in front of us. As usual we asked him to leave, and as usual he was having none of it. Whether or not my friend was in a bad mood i'll never know, but on this day he wasnt having any of it. He walked straight up to the little shit and unleashed the greatest back-handed pimp slap i have ever seen. It was magnificent!

The little shit, lip wobbling, promptly walked out. Justice!
(Mack only paint, Sat 16 May 2009, 17:15, 1 reply)

Read my repost, you specky git ot I'll put you in a headlock untill you say that you are gay for pay
Picking on overweight children.
As one of the only people at my last workplace who came in by car I used to do the works chip run. I always was happy to volunteer for this task as I got 'paid' in a free can of coke, at least thats what I let my coworkers assume why I did this.

The real reason for my eagerness to get chips for everyone was that there was a school nearby to work. To get from work/school to get to the chippy you had to go along a long straight stretch of road that was about a mile long. At lunchtimes there would be a long line of children, often in heavy backpacks dashing along this road trying to find the time to buy chips and get back before their lunch was over.

Leading the charge was always a group of overweight kids sweating in the summer sun waddling with all their might to get to the chippy. The highlight of my day was to turn my radio up all the way and wind wind my windows down. Casually waving at these child obesity statistics as I cruised on by.

That wasn't the best part though, I would time my speed along the road so I could pull up and get in the chip shop just before the first children arrived. Then as the first kids would burst through the door I would nonchalantly present my order for everyone at work, tying up the staff and keeping the kids impatiently waiting for up to 15 mins.

This would happen every day for weeks, until the start of the school summer holidays.
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Sat 16 May 2009, 16:44, 1 reply)

this QOTW
is too upsetting at times :(

Have some kittens :D


(Kuja335, Sat 16 May 2009, 14:27, 9 replies)

Being a manipulative little bastard...
I'm not proud of this - I was a manipulative little bastard when I was younger.

At school I'd quickly learned that if you were a goody two-shoes for the first couple of weeks with any new teacher, that first impression stuck and you could get away with murder for the rest of the year. Thus, I managed to get through pretty much all of school without a single detention.

The one threat to my record came in year six, at the hands of a sneaky little kid in my class, the sort whose catchphrase was "I'm telling miss", with the holier-than-thou attitude to go with it.

My friend and I were sharing a packet of Polos at the back of class. We'd been caught doing this before, and warned that the next time it happened we'd end up in detention. Sneaky Kid was sitting in front of us.

"I can smell mints. You're eating in class! I'm telling miss!" he gloated quietly. We gave him that "you utter bastard" glare.

As it happened, the teacher had to dash off pretty quickly at the end of the lesson so he didn't have a chance to tell on us then, so swore he'd do it after lunch. At this point I decided to take matters into my own hands, went and found the teacher in the canteen and told her that this boy was making stories up against me.

Next, I went home, where my mum was quite surprised to find me turning up at half past one. I made out to her that I was being bullied by this boy. She (of course) marched straight up to the school and made a fuss, and the next day Sneaky Kid was made to apologise to me. And no detention for me - double result!

I haven't seen him since I left that school, but there's still a twinge of guilt in the back of my mind about the whole affair. Still, those Polos were very nice, and he never tried to sneak on me again.
(moogal has eggs, Sat 16 May 2009, 13:13, Reply)

Please Bully Us
Someone who was a friend who had some issues at home, and to boost his own ego began to bully me. The detail of this doesn’t really matter and at the time it hurt but I met him again about 5 years ago on a bus. He still tried to be top dog but the details of his life just made me laugh. He was balding (which at about 23 is fucking brilliant), his friends from school, who he was trying to impress so hard had abandoned him, he had no qualifications from school and the reason why he was on the bus was because the warehouse packing night job he went for told him the job didn’t exist when he went for the interview. (Probably because the stench of utter penis got to the employer before he did). He ended the conversation with he now hangs around with some of my old friends from school. Apparently ‘they weren’t dickheads anymore’ he told me. Chris, if they are friends with you and they know you feel like that, they still are.

Another Chap just took a dislike to me. I only bumped into him around town where he tried to take things from me, one day he tried to get me alone so he could stab me, all in all he was a cunt. I am sure he used to be like this with others so when I heard he got tortured in a flat for mugging a old lady and then fell 9 stories and broke every bone up to his chest .I was the happiest man alive. I still see him he tries to make out we were friends (and all the time I am thinking can I actually beat up a raspberry ripple and look dignified). The last time I saw him I was handing out disabled parking badges in one of my many jobs. He saw me behind the desk, grinning at him and decided he would get his freedom pass another day.

So please bully us we will just wait and laugh at you when we see you next you fucking losers!
(Muggybonehead95, Sat 16 May 2009, 12:04, Reply)

Karma
There was one older kid who used to bully me at school. He was 3 years older than me and fancied himself as a bit of a hero. Im not going to bother going into details as its all the usual stuff - punching, stealing, name calling etc.

Fast forward 10 years and back home drinking with some old school mates in a local pub. Everyone is having a jolly old time when i feel the seal about to burst so off i toddle for a slash. I find the toilets and lo and behold they are completely empty - i have the whole urnial to myself.. i am king of the urinal.. result!

This brief moment of triumph is trashed when the door opens behind me and who stumbles in to the toilet? yup you guessed it folks - its our hero! He recognises me but cant recall my name... "i know you" he slurs. "Fucksocks" thinks I. He asks my name and i promptly tell him to fuck off under no uncertain terms. Luckily, I dont have to put up with this thimble dicked wanker for any longer than that brief exchange as my bladder has been emptied ready for more amber nectar and he has only just started... or so i think. He tries to grab me with his one free hand as i leave but i brush him off and tell him to go suck his own cock, or words to that effect. Rather than finish the job at hand, as most people would see fit to do, he only turns mid flow and fucking follows me out the door with his cock still spraying piss everywhere. I only realise as he grabs me a second time and turn to see his winkle pissing down his leg.

I look at this pathetic excuse of a man and almost take pity on him. Im twice the size of him now and easily the more sober, but he is persistent. I go to walk away but he obviously still fancies his chances as he tries to pull me into the adjacent disabled toilet. Monkey baws puts his whole weight into pulling me in with the intention of giving me a battering when I simply break his grip on my jacket and he flies arse over tit in himself.... straight over the toilet ands ends up unceremoniously wedged between the crapper and the wall.

Its a sweet revenge seeing a bully stuck in a toilet with his knock off timberland boots waving helplessly in the air. Its even sweeter when you have a camera phone to hand.

Bullies? .. pah.. I flush em!
(babyjak, Sat 16 May 2009, 11:42, 2 replies)

OK...
...I asked you all to 'Man the fuck up'

But, this week has started to affect me.

So I will tell my story now. For all the shame it involves.


I reached a point in my life where I was so fed up with being the only one who got picked on that I lashed out.

I did things I am not proud of. I picked on the weird kid at school. No thought to the fact that he was orphaned aged 7. That would make anyone weird.

But it all came back to haunt me when I realised that blind revenge on a blameless victim was not acceptable.

I tried Buddhism.

I felt like...I don't know...Buddha was watching and waiting for me to find him.

I guess things came to a head when I fell among the league of humanists.

It made me realise that a lot of it was not my fault.

I was only being boiled.


(What? Come on...at least I tried....)
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Sat 16 May 2009, 11:36, 2 replies)

I was bullied out of my most recent job
as two of the employees just didn't like me. Sniping comments and outright refusing to train me when I was on a training contract didn't do much for me, but then promoting a receptionist above me and putting me on reception 75% of the time does not a happy Becky make. So I quit a few weeks ago. We all know the job market's pretty slow right now, but it's very tough in my industry. I beat around 200 people to get my last job, but I'm sure I'll get something soon.

The good news is that I made myself virtually indispensable there, so every time there's a problem with the computers they call me and I go down to sort them out at a much higher locum rate than I was on previously. Just waiting for the x-ray machine to start playing up as no one there knows how to fix it but me.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Sat 16 May 2009, 10:12, 3 replies)