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This is a question PE Lessons

For some they may have been the highlight of the school week, but all we remember is a never-ending series of punishments involving inappropriate nudity and climbing up ropes until you wet yourself.

Tell us about your PE lessons and the psychotics who taught them.

(, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 17:36)
Pages: Latest, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, ... 1

This question is now closed.

My favourite netball moment ever
Walking to the football pitch for my own PE lesson we walked past the girls playing netball. The teacher on the side of the pitch giving out instructions and getting louder and more excited as the game progressed. At the crescendo of this the teacher screamed out

"Heather, tight snatch"

How the fuck did she know her nickname?
(, Wed 25 Nov 2009, 2:15, 1 reply)
I smacked my PE teacher with a rake!
I was a "tubby" child (and tubby adult too) so a lot of the times i had a note to get out of PE, as i couldnt even run round ONE football field without being humilliated so the thoughts of being forced round 5 filled me with dread (as that was the WARM UP), So one week when it was an olympics time they where doing long jumps and i got roped in to rake the sand over, after about 7/8 jumpers i got told my raking was not up to parr so the PE teacher took the rake from me and enthusiasticly showed me how to do it, after 3/4 rakes he handed me back the rake saying "thats how you do it you big tub of lard" now im not a violent person, infact i took more beatings than i should have being my hight and build at school, but i would back out of confrontation, today however the sound of everyone laughing at me sent my blood boiling, so after the next jumper he looked at me told me to use the rake.... i swung back as hard as i could and swung with all my might clean across his face, untill that moment i never knew you could literally knock someone out cold... but when he hit the floor in a heap he was snoaring and rolling his eyes, pandemonium then let loose as i just sat down and laughed, next thing i know im in the headmasters office.... with a rather brused P.E. teacher stood behind me, I explained the situation and how he had publicly humiliated me, then pointed out that it was bullying from the staff (i was way too savy for my age) I got told to go away and come back in the next day, so i appeared, halfway through my second lesson i got pulled out and took to the headmasters office, There i was given a rather poulty and begrudged appology from my P.E. teacher... my headmaster said "I think we can call an end to this" to which i replied "no, I don't think so... you see, he publicly humiliated me, and i have now been took away to a quiet corner whilst he admits fault, i want a public apology, say in assembely..." there was a silence, then a comment from my headmaster "i think your asking too much, after all you attacked one of my staff"
so i said "yes, only after severe provocation, should we see what the education authority has to say about that?"
More silence continued,

anyway, 3 days went by and on the thursday i was PUBLICLY appologised to by my PE teacher in assembely... for some funny reason, he left that year! no idea why as he was bragging that he would be head of PE the next year!
(, Wed 25 Nov 2009, 0:36, 9 replies)
No caoat, no PE.
Walked past an inner city faith school today. A class of girls had just come out. Teacher was at the head of the group. She turned round and said "If you don't bring your coats next week we won't be going for PE."
She may as well cancel it now.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 23:03, 3 replies)
Threatening the library as a punishment
Mr Dawson and Mr Albon were the two raging, thundering testosterone-fuelled tracksuit-wearing thugs tasked with forcing us unwilling kids to take part in sports we neither understood nor cared for, whilst guaranteeing that the heftier, thicker boys would have plenty of time to kick several shades of shit out of us on a regular basis.

Mr Dawson once "threatened" me with being made to sit in the library for a whole games lesson if I didn't get on and join in with whatever pointless weakling-baiting was going on that week, then he looked most surprised when he saw me merrily trotting out of the changing rooms not ten seconds later. I honestly don't think the concept of a library being an enjoyable place to spend time had *ever* occurred to him...
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 22:53, 2 replies)
PE Lesson letter
I had recently got my wrist out of plaster and was still pretty tender, well, to be honest i just didnt want to do athletics so I told my Dad I was still hurting and would he write me a letter excusing me from PE, after a bit of convincing he said he would and that he'd give it me in the morning.
So off I trot in the morning to PE, hand my teacher my letter from my Dad and waited for the annoyance to spread across his face as yet another pupil got parental consent to sit arond having a doss watching everyone else ran about. Except he didnt look annoyed in fact he pretty much pissed himself laughing and handed me the letter to look at, it said; Dear teacher, please excuse lankynyack from PE today he is being soft! Said teacher gave me the lesson off and framed the letter!
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 22:15, 1 reply)
On the Road...
To say we weren't the sportiest group of people at our school would be an understatement, but this is a really rather special tale even by our standards.

There were some disused railway lines that backed onto our school (inventively refered as 'The Lines'. Never let it be said that we aren't creative Up North), and it was along these lines that the cross country route went. Or it was if you were part of the 99% of students who took part in such an activity. We were the 1% who bunked off and went for a cigarette and a cup of tea at a friend's house whose garden overlooked the Lines. We'd let our teacher lead the way and then go through the gate, stock up on nicotine and caffeine and rejoin the group when we saw them come back the other way.

Until one day when said friend's mum was off sick and our personal cafe was out of bounds. No other option for it than to go along with the run. Which would have been fine if a) we were vaguely fit and could keep up with the rest of the class and b) we had the fainest idea what the route was.

Sure enough, we soon lose sight of even the straggeliest of stragglers and soon find ourselves wandering through building sites and the like. 4 teenage girls in gym kit asking directions from a bunch of builders do not, we found, get a very sensible response.

Anyway, we bumble around for a while, take advantage of the lack of supervision and settle down for a smoke then think 'hmm, we've probably been a while. We should make our way back'. So we retrace our steps almost back to school. Hurrah, we think. We've gotten away with it. Only to be confronted with a very irate gym teacher. And two mounted policemen. Turns out we'd been gone for the best part of two hours.

Oh, and while I'm at it, said gym teacher also thought it would be a wise idea to encourage one of the sportier types who was training for the discus at an inter-schools sports event with the now immortal phrase 'I'll just stand over here, see if you can get it over my head'. Cue staples in her head for around 6 months.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 21:39, Reply)
was anyone elses worst nightmare the thought of getting a spontanious hormonal boner when it was time to get changed for PE?
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 21:29, 5 replies)
A bit of a tug
At the time this happened I was attending a large secondary comprehensive in East London. We had a couple of PE teachers, and they would give us the option of splitting up for activities, football, basketball, hockey, swimming, etc. Now I always used to pick swimming, never a great one for hand eye co-ordination, or team activities.

So me and a couple of other lads were sitting around waiting to be taken to the local baths, when a PE teacher said it was cancelled. Too late to join up with the other activities, so he told us to get changed, and go to the gym hall.

The reason for this was because we had a tug of war team (3 to be exact, split into years above me.) and they were this PE teachers pride and joy. And today there was a tournament against a posher school.

So, after being told to sit on a bench, we then had to watch each year battle it out (best of 3 for each year). Of course our school was thoroughly trounced. Our teacher was heartbroken and dispirited. But then he had a bright idea, to cheer his lads up and give the other school a bit of a laugh, Let's have a tug of war with the misfits on the bench, as their was enough of us to make a team. Now to look at us, we were a mismatched bunch. Me the odd one, the skinny as a rake kid, the fat kid, the kid with the thick glasses and a squint, I could go on, but you get the picture. We weren't friends as such, but we recognised each others faults, and lived with it.

So he put us up against our youngest school team first (still a year above us). What the thick dolt hadn't realised was that we had been
watching and discussing why our school was losing and the other school kept winning. So quick team talk between the lot of us and away we went. we won on the first 2 rounds, and won the match.

The other schools PE teacher offered us a go against their team. Beat them as well.

Next, our middleweight team. Beat them.

Other school middleweight team. Same again.

We were pissing ourselves, and you could see both the PE teachers stumbling headfirst into disbelief and apoplexy.

So, onto the heavyweights. Now we were all aged 12 at the time, and these fuckers were about 15/16. And hairy with it. There could have been a touch of the Mungo in there somewhere. They glowered at us, hinting at the kicking we were going to get.

We took on our school first. No problems, beat them on the first 2 rounds.

Then finally the other school team. By this time we were in a strange situation. We were being cheered on by our school when we were competing against the visiting school, then vice-versa.

We won the first round, difficult, but got there. The second pull we lost. The crowd groaned. At this point we were well and truly knackered. We'd just done 10 rounds straight, whilst the other teams had done a max of 2 each, and had rested inbetween. We gathered round, and had a pep-talk, trying to gee ourselves up.

The final round. By God these blokes were strong, and it was lasting for what seemed ages. We kept losing ground, but suddenly from nowhere, we started to inch back, and inexorably gained ground until finally we got them over the line.

Both the schools went wild and cheered. The beaten team came up and shook our hands. The visiting PE teacher made a remark to our teacher about just using us for the tournaments in the future.

After the furore had died down, our PE teacher walked over. We waited for some words of praise, some recognition of this amazing feat that we had managed to achieve. His words were 'End of lesson, go back and get changed'. And that was it. The churlish fucker.

Popped my posting cherry.
Sorry about the length, about 35 metres.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 20:56, 6 replies)
piss pants and peados
i don't fancy being cathartic with this but i'll give you the short version. I would hve been about 12 or thirteen and during a basketball type PE Lesson we the class we're mucking about with the balls while our teacher was sat on a bench against a wall sorting out some paperwork with a few of my class mates. i'm sure we where meant to be practising passing or shooting but being about 5'4 at the time basketball wasn't my thing so i was just chucking the ball at one of the circles drawn on the wall of the gym for people to aim at.

the circle i lobbed at was about 2' above the teachers head. so looking up at his class to see that no one was trying to break the window at the top of the gym (standard practice in my class) he saw me hurl a basketball towards his head, my aim being poor the ball missed him by half a metre but he was pissed.

i while now protest my innocence i swear i was not throwing a heavy ball at this mans head from 5m but he decide i was and jumped up and slapped me round the face knocking me off my feet so that i landed arse first on the ground.

The shock of being hit so hard by a grown man made me piss myself

In front of all my classmates

this being the late eighties teacher whacking pupils was taken seriously my dad was called in to the school, i was treated with kid gloves and the PE teacher had to apologias to me.

But i was in the wrong and said so. i told everyone that it was my fault and it was forgotten by all, i didn't get the piss ((sic) taken out of me by anyone even though i was bullied for other shit at that school.

he wasn't the best teacher in the world but certainly not the worst he was probably just having a bad day because lets be honest if you hate PE lessons then imagine teaching them.

We had another really nice PE teacher, everyone really liked him, great bloke, a guy i knew in the year below couldn't afford the cost of the school skiing trip ( like most of us ) so this teacher said if this boy did some cleaning at his flat he'd give him the money for the trip. turns out he wanted his cock cleaned by this boys ass or some such tomfoolery. The boy's friend (my mate) helped him record the perv on a Dictaphone and got him sacked, and the year smashed his windows.
the end
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 20:35, 1 reply)
Spasmodic...is it a real world
Yup, highlight of my physical education was one report which said my effort was spasmodic at best, I was actually rather proud of that, still am tbh.

Ok so the female pe teacher who wrote that was more butch than GI Jane and Ripley or anyone in the SAS come to think of it and ended up running off with the female science teacher, poor daughter got the piss taken for the next 4 years at school, probably still haunts her even now.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 19:43, 1 reply)
Every tuesday or so we used to go to the swimming pool with the school to learn not to drown. Now, if it was a girl's "time of the month" all she had to do was say "I can't.

One of the girls in our class was sent to the school infermary on several occasions because she seemed to have a time of the week. Namely tuesday. I don't think I can remember her ever swimming - which is a shame, seeing as she was fucking fit.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 19:23, Reply)
Sticks! Giants! Sexism!
We used to have a podgey grey haired old P.E teacher who had a preference towards the boys. Not in a weird way, just in that he thought men were ace. Girls were wimpy and needed to be pitied and spared. We weren't allowed to run as much, when we did press ups we had to have our knees down and our legs crossed, and so on.

At that age I was rather agressive sports wise. If I was going for it, I went for it! This sometimes didn't work out well, like the time I almost killed myself and another teacher with a discus (if you want to do well, don't accidentally throw it straight up with all your might), but generally I was great. The balls were being kicked everywhere, sometimes in the wrong direction, the basketballs were bouncing and going through hoops all over the place!

My best achievement was hockey. A chance to run about and hit a disk really hard! Woohoo! We were set into teams and all day I was over that pitch, whooshing and smashing to my hearts content. We were really doing well! I was fitting in and helping the team. We were invincible! And then the class giant on the other team really got into his swing. Over six foot tall compared to my nearing-five foot. A great bulky colossus. The puck was free and we both wanted to be it's capturer.

We charged! Sticks ready, heads bent in determination. It was just me and him now. BOOM! We went flying. Quick as a flash, I was up and off with the puck while he sat clutching his leg where my stick had whacked him.

I ended up hot, sore and grubby with red ash from the pitch, but satisfied and happy. It was an escape from being a geeky, shy girl nobody really noticed. From that day on I was "The Man of the Match", a title bestowed by the grey haired woman-hating teacher. It was an honour indeed!
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 18:03, 8 replies)
Ok, so now that I've got your attention I thought I'd relay a story that happened to a friend. It was post PE and all the girls were in the changing room drying off. The class fatty was lifting up her fat rolls to make sure her entire body was getting dry. Up came the roll below her breast and directly under her arm (she was monstrous, trust me) when lo and behold she spotted a large pink lump of soap nestling gently on her skin.

Without a hint of embarrassment she loudly guffawed, because guffawing is what large people do isn't it, "I wonder how long that's been there". Then she flicked it off into someone's suitcase.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 17:50, 3 replies)
Another great pun
I was once employed by a local educational establishment which specialised in teaching children of school age. My position was as an educator, my chosen subject being the administration of physical education. Once or twice a day, I would take a group of the students and arrange a series of physical activities ranging from team sports to athletics. In return, I was paid a salary.

I was a... PE teacher!

Oh. Hang on.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 17:09, Reply)
I'd partake in the qotw
but I've forgotten my keyboard. May I be excused?
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 16:59, 5 replies)
It was rumoured
that one of our male games teachers had waited until the last day of term in the last year of secondary school to ask a girl in our year called Amanda if she'd like to go out for a drink with him, as there was no longer a pupil-teacher situation prohibiting it.

Seeing as she was a pretty, emotionally mature 16 year old girl with an impressive figure and a lovely smile, I couldn't really find it in my heart to think of him as a 'paedo PE teacher' at the time;- except that he was probably cracking one out over the thought of her showering since she had started developing 4 years earlier.... anyway, he got it together with a female member of staff soon after so all's well that ends well.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 16:44, 2 replies)
Have a sports related pearoast
At School
there were two girls in our class, one called Sophie Titwank and the other called Nicola Tipbank. We always used to refer to Nicola as "Soapy" because she was always really clean.

As in regularly washed, sexually she was as depraved as a Spaniard after six bottles of Rioja , there was one time when she let this guy do her up the arse while she sung "Girls and Boys" by Blur, and then she squatted over him and crapped on his chest once he was done. Like I said, filthy.

But I digress. The incident in question occurred during our fifth year. It was the inter-tutor football finals and my class had made it through. I was the team captain, and in order to make sure everyone got involved, you had to field a new team for each game.

So I was out on the pitch with the class in front of me, and each captain would call out the name of the person they wanted, and that would your team. Now I reckon you can guess what happened to me, and you'd be right.

You see I meant to call out Sophie Titwank, cause she was ace in goal, but instead I shouted out "I want Soapy Tipbank" and got Nicola instead. And she was crap in goal as she normally played left wing.

And we lost 7-2. I was gutted.

Still, we all had fun, and afterwards old Soapy let me finger her round by the bike sheds while she sucked off Jonny Deacon. Good times them, good times.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 16:07, 42 replies)
There is some corner of a field which is forever England
Deep in darkest Somerset, a yellow-eyed headmaster peered through his tobacco-stained windows and noticed that, for the first time in three hundred and eleventy years, it wasn't raining. His brow furrowed atop his wrinkled head as he picked up the phone, dialed an extension, and breathed a single word into the receiver. A word which would change history, alter destinies, and cause more death than he could ever have imagined.


Plans were put in motion. A matter of hours later the entire school, all one thousand pupils, teachers, assistants, administrative staff and the creepy old goblin who ran the tuck-shop gathered on the largest playing field and stood facing two scaffolding towers topped with an enormous PA system. A crude stage sat between them, assembled from wooden planks, gym mats and old benches. Some of us nervously joked that we were about to witness a public execution. Hah! Today was not to be the end of just one victim. Instead of a hooded hangman there, stood on the stage, was Miss O'Leary, school Head of PE.

Miss O'Leary was, naturally, a raging lesbian with a red-cheeked love of physical excercise that made a Hitler Youth leader look like, well, a typical B3tan. Looking back, she resembled God's first, rejected attempt at creating Ellen MacArthur (who was fresh from completing the first solo circumnavigation of her mum's womb at the time.)

With a nod from proto-Ellen, Mr Armstrong (the music teacher) handed her a microphone and pulled a huge lever. Giant speaker stacks sizzled and hummed and her voice, electrically enhanced, roared at us:

"Just copy me!"

Kylie began singing The Locomotion. Miss O'Leary begain doing star jumps and slowly the rest of us began jumping too. There we were, over a thousand of us, bouncing away in an ungainly parody of communist state mass public excercise. It beat double maths, anyway.

The occasional laugh and shreik came to our ears over the deafening chart pop. Strangely the laughs grew louder and more frequent, despite the excercise. I could see ranks breaking as I looked around me. Something wasn't right, I could feel it, but what could I do? I could see no escape, nor any obvious sign of danger. My sense of unease grew.

Then, with a mighty, wet SMACK, the first worm hit me in the face. Lured to the surface by the rhythmic pounding of two thousand pairs of feet, earthworms covered the ground. The mud and grass was barely visible, we were star jumping (this is the only move I know) on top of a writhing carpet of slimy, brown worms. Pandora's box had opened. Hell's gates were breached, and battle was joined.

Raising my head as if recovering from shell shock I looked up to a sky filled with countless flying annelids. There was no laughter anymore, only terrified, disgusted female screams. Children running for shelter, diving behind other children, crying, shouting, desperately flinging squirming invertebrates to cover their retreat, scrabbling in the mud for more ammunition; it was Guernica with living bullets.

I saw heroism that day, true, but it's the horror that haunts my sleep now.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 16:02, 4 replies)
I never understood the concept of PE
One time I turned up at school with a scale model diorama I'd made out of paper mache of North Korea and another of Afghanistan.

Apparently this isn't what the teacher meant when he said we'd be doing double cross country after lunch...
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 15:34, Reply)
A note
When I was 13, I fell off my bike and banged my hip quite hard which made walking a bit painful. So, I got my mum to write me a note. I didn't read it and just handed it in at the start of PE. She'd put.

"Please excuse SLVA from PE as he's got a bad side.". The teacher laughed and showed me the note. He said that he also has a bad side when he drinks too much.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 15:00, 3 replies)
Dancing was shit
On the run up to christmas, our PE lessons would be replaced by country dancing in preperation for the christmas ceilidh. One day in first year, I began to feel pretty ill in the morning and made multiple trips to the school nurse to try and go home for the day. no success, apparently i didnt "look" ill.

Come the afternoon, we were all gathered in the PE hall for some country dancing. after about an hour, we finished up and were all standing scattered about waiting for the PE teacher to let us go, and thats when it happened.

All the bouncing and movement from the dancing had really loosened some ill bowels. and when we finally stopped, my body subconciously relaxed, and in front of all my mates and the girls from my year, i simultaneously threw up and released my bowels. needless to say it was about a year before people forgot about it. Thankfully only a few people knew about the second part, mainly because I staggered out of the school before anybody noticed the smell...

Turns out it was salmonella.

In future if i felt ill, I usually just went home and signed out under dentist appointment or something.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 14:55, 2 replies)
But I've got a note...
When I was 14 or 15 I managed to break my arm, crack my hip bone and badly twist my knee in a skateboarding incident (what I silly twat I was).

I had a note and a pretty visual excuse (plaster cast, crutches etc...) for not taking part in P.E.

Rather than the hour dossing around that I was expecting, for an hour & fifteen each week, for 6 wintery weeks, my bastard teacher made me pick litter up on the playing fields...

Anyway a couple of years later he was taking the goalposts down off the playing fields and reversed his car into one of the posts, as he got out to inspect the damage, the crossbar - now freed from its former two-post stability - came crashing down on his head and knocked the cunt out cold!

(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 14:51, 2 replies)
PE excuses
At school, PE, or ‘Games’ was mandatory throughout all the years in an attempt to promote teamwork and bonding and all that. In my earlier years, I remember dismal runs around playing fields in near horizontal rain (I went to school in Wales, which most of the time makes Cockermouth look like fucking Aruba).

As you got older, skipping this became easier, but instead of avoiding the running, all you did was stand there under an umbrella watching the other kids run round and helping the teachers make sure no one cheated…essentially you had every classmate run passed with the that evil “how come you are stood under a gamp dry whilst we have to run around” look.

Failing this, we were told to go and look after one of the groups of younger kids, as teachers were often not available. I remember once, a younger member of school came up to me with a sick note that went as follows:

Dear Mr Jones (the usual PE teacher),

Please excuse M from PE today as he has dierrea…diarria…dier..the shits and so cannot attend.


M’s mother.

I laughed so hard I actually let the kid off and wrote he a better copy to hand in to the actual teachers.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 14:43, 1 reply)
When I was living in a refugee camp towards the end of the war, food was in short supply.
There were guards posted to make sure we didn't go beyond our daily ration of one legume per refugee.
They were our Pea Eat Eachers.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 14:42, Reply)
Never play italy at rugby
I grew up in a small town on the west bank, so as you can imagine noncey PE teachers were the least of my worries. The school I went to was an international school full of the kids of ambassadors, diplomats and the like. And me, the only local.

It was, however, the only half-way decent school in my town, so my parents made up a load of ridiculous stories about our ancestry (once, my step-dad even claimed to be part of the royal family) until they relented and let me attend too.

Most of the kids (and the teachers) were British and I got on with them really well but there was also a large Italian contingent who really had it in for me. The rugby games always went the same way, the Italian kids would band together and, although I had a dozen or so good friends, most other people knew how vicious the italians got and we rarely got a full team, making our obliteration all the faster.

Gradually the little cunts developed a song that they'd break into whenever we lost a game (which was pretty much always). Of course, even though they'd just spent an entire lesson getting digs in without the teachers noticing/caring they'd still take the piss out of me with this bloody song. It was basically a list of reasons why they thought I was hopeless at rugby, most of them having nothing to do with rugby at all, such as calling my girlfriend a whore, or saying my dad would fix the game.

Then, in my final year, they nailed me to a cross. Bastards.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 14:27, 2 replies)
One of those rare lessons
where I didn't run about on a cold playground watching the sporty types play football. 500 words, so it's in the reply.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 13:56, 4 replies)
I AM a PE teacher*
The work is unbelievable - we have so many targets, rules and checklists:

1. In 'shirts vs. skins' pick the skins team by the number of fatties in the team.
2. If you're a male PE teacher make sure to have an unhealthy interest in ensuring the boys shower thoroughly; female teachers take the butch girls for 'extra' tennis lessons.
3. If anyone brings a note to say they are ill/cannot do PE for any reason, make sure they have to stand out and watch everyone else and are treated like vermin.
4. Kids can be pretty insecure about their bodies; exploit this - it will harden them up in later life and they'll forget all about it.
5. Most kids are shit at PE. Let the kids who are good at sport do something interesting while saving the tarmac hockey/softball/cross country for the spazzes.
6. Hardly anyone can climb a rope - make sure that everyone learns that only THEY are failures at this.
7. The big, nice, well equipped gym hall is ONLY TO BE USED IN SUMMER. Cross country is an easy 40 minutes off and saves heating bills.
8. Drama and dance: When you truly hate the little bastards have them shoeless and dancing round like fairies - fucking hilarious.
9. Gymnastics - ever seen a roly-poly do a roly-poly?
10. Swimming lessons - chucking a brick in and watching them fetch it is fun but shouldn't be substituted for 30 minutes of treading water - that's where the real betting action is.

*Not really.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 13:53, Reply)
knicker check
I went to an all girls school. The PE teacher used to check our knickers to make sure that we were wearing the correct colour offical uniform navy blue big pants. Or that's what she told us.
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 13:40, Reply)
A quick test
Based on reading the stories this week, I have come up with a quick test.

1) Can you spell your own name? Failing that, can you spell someone else's name?

2) Are you a paedophile?

If the answer is yes to either of these questions, congratulations, you are fit to be a PE teacher.

*Does not apply to the very few genuinely nice PE teachers out there*
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 13:01, Reply)
Men only
1. Unzip/unbutton flies

2. Whip out tadger

3. Aim in vague direction of recepticle

4. Piss

It's hardly rocket surgery
(, Tue 24 Nov 2009, 12:13, 7 replies)

This question is now closed.

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