How not to get out of PE
To say I wasn't popular at school is to indulge in the most extreme form of understatement. I was spotty and greasy. I was clever. I was quiet. School is hell for those of us who don't want to arse about and just want to get through it with the minimum of fuss.

PE was the worst. I couldn't kick. I couldn't throw. I couldn't catch. I was hopeless. During rugby (which we played in all weathers) I used to always try to stay just ahead of the ball so that it would never be passed to me. I remember one time I failed in my ploy to stay away from the ball and someone unaccountably lobbed it at me. I caught it and with a look of stunned horror realised that Kelvin Bach, the 6-foot-three brick shithouse, was bearing down upon my skinny frame. That was the last time I ever held a rugby ball, let me tell you.

Of course I was always picked last. And I mean last. The weirdos who spent all match standing on the sidelines picking their noses and playing with themselves were picked before me. You know, every day I wake up and give thanks that as long as I live no-one is ever going to tell me to put shorts on and run around after a ball on a cold winter's day. Thankyou, Lord, thankyou, thankyou.

Anyway, that rather long preamble brings us to the point of my tale. It was a normal PE lesson and we were in the changing rooms getting ready. I was aware that there was a guy going around waving a piece of paper in front of people and being met with furrowed brows and shaking heads. It was Gareth, by no means one of the worst, but certainly someone who'd given me his fair share of grief.

Eventually Gareth stopped asking the mono-browed mouth-breathers and came over to me.

"Oy, Mr C, you twat," he said, kindly. "You're a clever bastard, tell me what this says. My mum has written that I can't do PE because I have hemmoroids. What the fuck does that mean?"

Well. Well, well. It's not everyday that life hands you such a nice gift, is it? Making sure that everyone was watching, I smiled at him and, in my loudest voice, said: "PILES!"

His face crumbled at the laughter of his peers. That was possibly my finest moment at school.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 17:22, 16 replies)

hehe!

(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 17:25, closed)

How long was it before he punched you?
He doesn't sound the sort to take it well, funny though it must have been.
( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Wed 16 Feb 2011, 17:36, closed)

He was too
embarrassed to do anything other than slink away.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 18:56, closed)

Result

( number5 has been fighting tramps and losing., Wed 16 Feb 2011, 19:01, closed)

Hemmoroids?
Hmm
(Appleseed Is getting married 24/05/2014. All invited., Wed 16 Feb 2011, 18:52, closed)

or even
haemorrhoids, if you want.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 18:56, closed)

Hæmorrhoids, even
:)

/überpedantry over
(EuroSong I love horse meat: best of all the animals, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 20:13, closed)

You know that word very well
You are Nobby AICMFP.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 9:34, closed)

Poof
Medical conditions are the lazy way to wimp off. I was picked last on pure effort. Laziness, enfeeblement, deliberate and vocal indications that I wouldn't assist the team in any way and past demonstrations of those points all meant I was last. I could have tried but I made every sign that I wouldn't and meant it. To my very core.

So much of the time I got to go home early. Beats standing in a horrible freezing muddy field, being kicked in the balls, having my back broken or otherwise wishing I was somewhere else instead of playing some horrible shitty game enjoyed by monkeys and nobody else.
(MagicMoose, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 19:56, closed)

I used to get picked first for Rugby
not becuase I was any good at it, but because I was always one of the biggest in the class, and liked a good punchup.

Picking me meant I wasn't going to be on the opposite team, and therefore the picker was less likely to get raked with studs.

I'm not proud of it.
( Not Pineapple anymore, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 11:35, closed)

Why would you even be excused "games" for that?
Unless the showers afterwards were the point of concern but, then, surely a soap-on-a-rope would have been an adequate safeguard?
(Me, I'm not... in any way intoxicated, Wed 16 Feb 2011, 20:12, closed)

Maybe they were so big they chaffed as he ran

(Nanny Pat vote for me, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 10:17, closed)

I like this a lot.
I have a vision of him asking his mother for a sick note to get him out of PE, and her (knowing that he wouldn't have a clue as to what she was writing) deciding to teach him a lesson.

Kinda makes me wish that one of my kids had asked this of me, so I could have written that they were to be excused for gingivitis.

Heheheheh.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Wed 16 Feb 2011, 21:33, closed)

.
Sorry, Jimmy can't do games today, he has got crabs. Unfortunately we can't treat them in the normal way, as it would interfere with hsi anti-retorviral medication.

He should be OK by next week.
( Not Pineapple anymore, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 11:41, closed)

^^^This^^^
Oh, so much THIS.
I was the nerdy, shit-at-games one in our year at high school and I abso-fucking-lutely hated games and PE. We were forced to play rugby in all bastard weathers too (including 6 inches of snow) without benefit of gloves, a snood or an electric blanket like Premiership footballers.
I would have KILLED for for an opportunity to belittle one of the bastards who helped make my school years such an unpleasant experience.
Have a clicky for making me smile.
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Wed 16 Feb 2011, 22:10, closed)

'You know, every day I wake up and give thanks that as long as I live
no-one is ever going to tell me to put shorts on and run around after a ball on a cold winter's day. Thankyou, Lord, thankyou, thankyou.'

Amen!
Same here, except we had hockey. I really hate sport.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Thu 17 Feb 2011, 11:09, closed)