Oh Gosh
You do not know true terror until you have been bullied by cute little blonde girls.

Allow me to set the scene.

I am a year 11. For those unfamiliar with British comprehensives, this makes me top of the school. Those below me bend to my will, and anyone who crosses me feels me wraith. Unless they're in my year, or otherwise bigger than me, because I'm a weedy little fucker, but let's not go into that.

Enter Year 8 girls.

Imagine three cute little girls. Blonde, they are, and about waist height. The kind that would make a child molester drop to his knees and weep.

Now add the general demeanour of a nineteen year old chav who's been in and out of young offenders and jail since he was eight.

You are left with three cute little girls who are capable of driving up the fucking wall.

But what are you supposed to do? I mean, if they were male, you could smack them around a couple of times and teach them a lesson. That'd be fun. But you can't hit girls, especially not little girls. You can't ignore them, because then they nick your stuff and chuck things at you. And you can't report them to a teacher (always a last resort) because that makes you look, frankly, pathetic.

It all reached a head one Friday. It was deadline day for technology coursework, so lots of year 11s had taken the day off to avoid it, and those that had come in had mostly pulled all-nighters. Hence, an awful lot of tension in the air.

At break, my group hung around in the hall. This is a normal thing; it was cold out, and the year 11 common room was full of dickheads. However, today there were no members of staff on patrol in the hall. God knows where they were, but it could only result in one thing. Complete fucking chaos.

The inevitable happened. The little girls came over with a big group of cronies and commenced to harrass us. But today they took it too far. One of them threw a chair at us. Things were said that perhaps shouldn't have been. Mistakes were made. But the resultant insanity was wonderfully worth it.

My dear friend Robbie, in an act of brilliance that has never been paralelled since, snapped. One of the girls was yelling at my friend Shom, quite heatedly, totally involved in the moment. Robbie, sensing his opportunity, grabbed a bin from nearby and proceeded to upturn it over her head.

His intention was to trap her, and cause hilarity as she stumbled around. However, he did not expect the bin to be full. Full, specifically, of shitty cold soup and old yoghurt.

When it was upturned over her, I almost wretched. In slow motion, a bucketload of what looked like cold puke (with lumps) dropped all over her. The whole hall stood frozen for a few moments, waiting for her reaction.

She screamed.

The silence broken, we all fled out the back door and ran off to next lesson.

And that, my friends, was last Friday for you.

No apologies for length. I'd say the ladies love it, but they are proving remarkably resistant thus far.
(BathrobeHaver, Sun 12 Mar 2006, 22:13, Reply)