You can tell I wasn't caught,due to the fact I am still alive
First of all, my parents, as has already been chronicled in the pages of this great site, were not incredibly wealthy people. Not poor, but they would never have been able to afford to send me to a grammar school on their own. So, when I won an assisted place at a grammar school, they were delighted. My mum, being a) fron NZ and b)catholic, took great pains to assure me that this place was a privelege and not a right, and any abuse thereof (i.e. being a lazy little shite) would not be tolerated.

I worked hard. Oh I did. Until 6th form, when I discovered free periods. My first 6th form report was - shall we say -less than promising. Mum assured me that if I didn't buck my ideas up, then I was out of there and also would be chucked out on the street for the no good waster son that I was, so help me Mary mother of Jesus, etc. etc.*

Anyway, I digress. The intelligent B3tard will have worked out where this was going. The summer term report came out and it was a complete flangeweasel. Although I was a lazy little embuggerance, a lot of it was patently unfair, mainly from my chemistry teacher, a man for whom I had a similar hatred that Hitler had for the chief rabbi of Berlin.

"Oh fuckity fuckity fuck wanky ball cock arse felchery" uttered the young carrot upon seeing this report. "This is likely to result in a second hole in the ozone layer if mum reads this." I genuinely feared for my life, my liberty and my growing collection of art pamphlets. However, two small items could have saved my testicles from the proverbial half bricks of matriachal anger.

1: Reports were seen by us before being sent out to the home address by post. I knew that this would give me about 3-4 days leeway to sort things out.


2: My school made use of a high tech new-fangled system called "MS Word" to type the reports, so that they could all be collated etc. etc. I knew enough about computers (most of my spare time being spent trawling late 90's websites rather than revising) to know that I could fake my school report! Huzzah!

So, the summer holidays started. I got up early every morning (used the excuse of wanting to watch the cricket) prior to the post arriving. On the 3rd day, the dreaded A4 envelope arrived. I collected the post, hid the school letter and delivered the remaining post to breakfasting progenitors. (I was so devious that I even kept a letter back from the previous day to use as an "emergency letter" just in case my school report was the only one delivered and parental suspicions were aroused by the clanging of a letterbox.)

I waited until Dad was at work and mother was cleaning something, then carefully...oh soooooo carefully opened the letter. I scanned both sides of my report (as I needed the headmaster's signature and the school crest) created a quick excel table, inserted the relevent text and hey presto - ready made report! I took a great deal of care over the comments to make them believable. I printed it off, agonising over the headmaster's signature as it was a bit blocky, re-sealed it in the envelope and chucked it in the post the next morning.

10 years on, my parents still have no idea what a devious little fuck they bred...thank God, because I reckon I would still have 7 shades of crap beaten out of me!
( Undercovercarrot got done for gross misconduct on..., Thu 3 Jun 2010, 16:47, Reply)