Mr Millar.
My old primary 4/5 teacher was a right cunt. I hated him and he hated me. (though we did strangely make peace on my last day of primary 5 when he gave me back my toy penguin from a kinder egg that he had confiscated from me months before hand). I maintain he had a pick on me but selective memory and that.
We (the class) were on our way to the swimming pool for lessons which meant walking through the grounds of the secondary school up the road. Passing the P.E block there is a steep slope about 8ft long or so. The class was making a lot of noise so he turned on his heels to shout at us, lost his footing and went rolling down the slope.
The wet slope.
The wet muddy slope.

As a class of young kids is wont to do, we pissed our pants laughing.

He came stomping up that slope a brown, dripping, streak of fury.
NOW... he came stomping right up to me, finger in my face, ready to shout at me, even though the whole class was laughing and he had to walk halfway down the 2x2 line of kids to get to me, but at the last moment remembered my mum was the parent volunteer walking at the back of the line to keep an eye on the kids.

Cue a last minute swerve to Stephen standing next to me, a waggle in his face and a sharp "It's not funny" and a very pissed off "AYE, I SAW YOU!" from my mum at the back. One sheepish twat later and my reveling in glee for the entire day.

Mr Millar. If you're reading this, you made my life a misery. I was only 7 or 8 and you were nothing but a bully to a small fat kid who had plenty of other problems to deal with at the time.

I still laugh at it now. The muddy bearded wanker.
( Maffers I flow kinda strange like Spina Bifida footprints, Fri 18 Dec 2009, 1:49, Reply)