Taff Jones. The Fucking Cunt
This is the story of my nemesis, a bastard teacher who seemed to have an uncanny knack of picking out the most vulnerable kid in his class & then fucking him up some more. I was in my first year at grammar school, rolling through a turbid time as my parents split up & divorced, resulting in my mother's nervous breakdown and a harrowing time for yours truly.

Jones, he was. And he was Welsh, of course, so he was called Taff Jones, of course, by the pupils. A stocky little aggressive Taff bastard he was, too. He taught biology, and had a unique line in punishment.

I came to his attention one day early on in a double biology period because I turned & grinned at a mate sat behind me. What a heinous sin. Punished I must be.

He hauls me off my stool, drags me to the front of the class, none of whom have a clue why, but are just glad it's me and not them, then dresses me down in front of the whole class til he's reduced me to tears. All for being "a sneak", i.e. turning round and grinning at my mate. Then he sends me outside to wait in the corridor for the rest of the double period, by which time I'm a gibbering wreck.

He then dismisses the class and drags me back into the lab, BY MY HAIR and proceeds to lecture me on what a little fuck I am, all the time punctuating each syllable of crap spewing from his foul gob by pulling my head back and forth by gripping around 20 or 30 hairs right on the forehead hairline. Try doing that to yourself. It fucking hurts. Now imagine someone else doing it so you have no control over the movement. Trust me, it's fucking bad.

This cunt proceeds to do this to me 3 or 4 times over the term. Each time for some imagined "offence". You cannot imagine how I felt waiting to go into those biology classes.

That was 1973. He's almost certainly dead now. I hope it was a fucking unpleasant end to his pointless life.

Bishop Vesey’s Grammar School, Sutton Coldfield, BTW. I was by no means the only poor kid this bastard attacked like this.
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:39, 5 replies)

doesn't matter how he died
he had to live welsh, there's no greater punishment.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:42, closed)

How about Welsh, and...
...your testicles NAILED to the fucking floor then your neck embraced by a noose of chain attached to a crane that ever-so-slowly raises up until your scrotum, after some hours, is torn from your body and you die of blood loss hanging nutless in the breeze?

Just asking
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 12:46, closed)

Teachers physical violence
was commonplace at school in the 70's especially the twisting hairpulling, throwing blackboard rubbers and they could do serious damage, slaps were commonplace. I had a full blooded whack across my face when I was 11 all because I expressed sympathy when some older boys were cheeking him (Bobby Glynn, you sad cunting twat)in a corridor. It was accepted that teachers could get away with this, clearly no anger management and a culture where you would be caned for the slightest thing like not doing homework.
To be fair quite a few teachers were against using it and the better ones were able to deal with an unruly class without resort to physical assualt. It was the shit and dissapointed, the boderline psychopaths and inadequates that enjoyed the control and intimidation on children who could not fight back. cunts the lot of them.
When I was 5 at infant school in Scotland I had the 'taws' a leather strap 5 times across the hand for some minor infringement, as I remember a commonplace event which is now greivous bodily harm and a jail sentence today.
Happy fucking days.
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Fri 30 Apr 2010, 13:09, closed)

"Happy fucking days"
Indeed. Happy fucking days
(RichardInSydney would like to know why teh date & time is, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 13:11, closed)

Board rubbers
I sat next to Mike Squibbs, and one day the teacher turned round, yelled "Shut Up!!" and threw the board rubber at Mike. It hit him just below the eye. He's probably still got a small scar there.

After that I didn't feel the urge to own up and say that it was me that had been whispering, and not Mike.

Mind you, he was the school vicar.
( shinyshinyscalp less a man, more a way of life, Fri 30 Apr 2010, 16:04, closed)