Kiss The Sky Mungo.
At school, I was in top sets for most subjects except for Music.

Being tone deaf and unable to hold a rhythm, I ended up being timetabled in the 'special needs' class. (That and being put in this class meant I could be timetabled for all my other high set classes).

Being scheduled with the Tards was a laugh, in Third year seniors (Year 9 for all you modern whippersnappers), I had music on a Friday afternoon, last period.

These were normally taken up with our slightly effeminate music teacher imploring for a class of 20 educationally challenged children to calm down and stop indescriminately banging drums, glokenspeils, triangles and cymbals in a hideous cacophany.

On one occasion one of my classmates removed his phallus from his trousers and began picking off large white lumps of smegma which he wiped on his exercise book.

Another time, Mandy (a behemoth with bristlecut hair and arms thicker than the sports teachers thighs) 'came on' in the middle of a lesson and stood up proclaiming such. A pool of menstrual fluid similar in size to the school pond glistened threateningly on the chair below her.

One group came running out of one of the practise rooms screaming. On further investigation it was found that Dwayne, who had behavioural difficulties had passed a large, smelly motion into the front of a tuba.
(Vic Flange, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 11:44, 2 replies)

Not sure about the desperate times aspect...
...but still gets a click from me!
(Reverend Fister "a disciplined fuckwit", Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:04, closed)

It's the Bash Street Kids
gone wrong.
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Fri 16 Nov 2007, 12:53, closed)