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This is a question School Assemblies

Our school assemblies were often presided over by the local vicar, who once warned us of the dreadful dangers of mixing with "Rods and Mockers". One of the cool teachers laughed. Tell us about mad headteachers and assemblies gone wrong.

Inspired by the mighty @Rhodri on Twitter

(, Thu 13 Jun 2013, 12:43)
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This question is now closed.

This one ranks right up there with 'stories about my pet'
for sheer read the first line then skip the rest-ness.

Very tediuos.
(, Wed 19 Jun 2013, 8:48, 11 replies)
One time at assembly I was eyeing up this hot fifth former
But that's enough about my teaching career.
(, Wed 19 Jun 2013, 0:24, Reply)
I went to a shit school
thought it a miserable waste of my time and avoided every function I possibly could. About three times a year they'd call an assembly without notice and post teachers at all the exits to herd everyone into the gym. Usually it was the 'Consequences of Drug Use' or something good for a reaction of - Now tell me something I don't know -.
Once it was an orchestra, played some Mendelssohn, and that was alright.
(, Wed 19 Jun 2013, 0:18, Reply)
Spontaneous Song!
Not quite assembly , but a large percentage of the school in one place at one time for an organised event. So it kinda fits the brief.
Mess Hall.

Generally meal times were a bit of ordered chaos. We all queued along a wall (1st in best dressed obviously), got served whichever boiled/deep-fried slop was on the menu and then sat at our allotted long tables on benches shoveling food into our hungry maws. Frequently the piggies would be lining up for seconds before the 1sts line had gone thru completely.
On Sundays we had a chapel service prior to dinner. A long, boring, drawn out service doled out by a preacher whose only belief (I think) was in that of his pension.
But.... The rule was that if you didn't attend chapel you weren't supposed to be able to get tea. Inorite?! Some housemasters adhered to this rule more strictly than others - an interesting correlation was that the housemasters who had themselves been former students tended to be the bigger cunts generally.
One such example was "Warnie" (no relation to the cricketer fighting male-pattern baldness and who waited to fuck Liz Hurley when she was past her prime..).
Warnie was a cunt of the highest order. Amongst his many exploits - he would stand at Mess front door with his roll from chapel and if you weren't on the list you couldn't go in, regardless of why - late getting back from leave? Too bad, go hungry! Just got back from hospital visiting dying Gran, hope you've got some noodles in your locker sunshine 'cause you ain't eating tea tonight! He would even post some suckup prefect at the backdoor to the kitchen as frequently the kitchen staff would take pity on us and give us a few plates out the back.

Thus one night in the packed dining hall someone began humming "Camptown Races", you know - "Something, something, something, something ,do dah, do dah.". Which quickly became "Warnie takes it up the arse, do dah, do dah" and very rapidly turned into
with 400 of us belting it out as loudly as we could until Warnie eventually [with as *little/much* dignity that he could muster - REDITED for pikey] arose from the teachers table and left the dining hall as quickly as he could.
No-one could tell where it had begun. There was no point in a witch hunt as every single one of us had been in full voice. Leave for the entire boarding house community was canceled that weekend as punishment but the consensus was that it had been totes worth it.
Warnie managed to never be on duty for chapel on a Sunday arvo ever again and left under a cloud later that year anyhoo.

Tl;dr? - we questioned a housemaster's sexuality en masse, in full song because he was mean to us.
EDITED 'cause I found the right song.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 22:24, 11 replies)
A long time ago in an infant school far, far away
assembly was interrupted on a cold and windy day by a rather terrifying sheet of flame issuing from the large coal-fired stove which sat in the middle of the school hall.

I assume the howling gale caused some sort of fiery blowback or Johnny Storm had fire-jizzed the flue.

Whichever it was, it scared the shit out of all us little 'uns.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 20:46, Reply)
We had a "special" assembly, when I was in the 3rd year, an afterschool one.
A kid had been playing hockey, a 2nd year, and had complained to twat of a games teacher about feeling a bit ill. Twat being a twat, he told him to carry on, a few minutes later, kid collapsed and died. We found out after the postmortem he had some congenital heart thing. Still gave the teacher shit for ages though, photos of the kid put into his pigeon-hole, messages on the blackboard etc. Twat teacher lasted till the end of the school year, then had a breakdown and packed in teaching.
His parents donated his snooker table to the school though, so something positive came out of it. Happy days.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 16:19, 1 reply)

School assemblies.. Boring as shit. Highlights include crap hymns, drug awareness talks and general drudgery. They decided in years 10 and 11 that we didn't need to have assemblies because no one took them seriously, and also the hall was too small for the whole school. Three memorable things happened..
1 - our class room was the science room, with gas taps on the tables. A couple of the bigger lads held the class clown close to the gas tap and made him breath half of the north sea, before assembly. He then went to assembly a bit light headed, and then passed out mid way through, and spewing repeatedly upon waking up.. He was fine after, and didn't go home- and he didn't grass anyone up for it.. I think he couldn't remember what happened, so no one had any trouble. Except the cleaner.
2 - we had to watch a shit video, and my mate had just got one of those IR remote watches you could control a telly or video with. Great fun watching the teacher panic as the video spacked out over and over again. Until the teacher spotted the huge watch and the shit eating grin on his face.. So then she made us watch the video after removing his watch and later writing a letter to his folks.
3. Police drug talk day - when the police came to school to tell us what we already knew, and was surprised at our wealth of knowledge on the subject, and became quite cross when the sample jars of cannabis went missing. So we then had to stay in the hall till the samples were returned before we could leave. we couldn't get the bloody jars open so had to give them back. Not sure who learnt the biggest lesson that day, pupils, or dope distributing police twat.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 16:07, 4 replies)
It was still better than the Lord's Prayer
Back in the heady days of early 1991 I was a young first schooler with a terrible, terrible secret. I’d spent the previous summer on a couple of camping and caravanning holidays (that’s not it), often with extended family including aunts, uncles, grandparents & cousins. It was one of those cousins that I can now blame for planting the seed of my downfall.

Linda was 3 years older than me and to my eyes was probably one of the cooler people that I knew. The knowledge that over the summer holidays I would be able to hang out with someone older and cooler than me while hopefully learning something more about life filled me with joy. What I didn’t realise was that I was being unwittingly guided down a path that would lead to me to both embarrassment and debasement.

Time on those holidays was mostly spent playing some classic summer sports; swingball and boules, Scatch and Aerobie, interspersed with some casual sitting around on tree stumps listening to one of those new fangled Walkman devices. Linda had a canny little collection of cassettes to listen to on those long summer days as well! A mix of Top 40 recordings taken from Radio 1 on a Sunday night, NOW 19 featuring some early Massive Attack (I didn’t like them much aged 7) and the Holy Grail… Queen’s Greatest Hits 1 and 2!!
I’d never heard such wondrous singing in all my years, what with the looping harmonies and flat out hollering of Freddie, fat-bottomed girls left, right and centre, bicycle races ring ringing in my ears and the one from that sci-fi film with a booming Brian Blessed. However, it wasn’t any of those virtuous verses that captured my imagination at first but the incessant beat of We Will Rock You, the penultimate track on tape one. I could see how I might be that boy on the street; I probably did have mud on my face while kicking my can all over the place. And so it was that I started on my not so epic journey to stardom.

Once back home I dutifully sent a couple of blank cassettes over to Linda and asked her to tape me a copy of my new favourite albums. When returned, with the painstakingly handwritten track listings that used to be an art-form, I settled down to learning and transcribing the lyrics to We Will Rock You. For the remainder of the summer I was a one man Queen’s army ready to perform at any given opportunity. With some thigh drumming and overhead clapping providing the beat I’d sing/shout my heart out to anyone listening whenever I’d not already been given a clip around the lug and/or stern instructions to shut the hell up.
Obviously my parents grew weary of the warbling within a working week but there was still another week or two left of the summer holidays before back to school time. I hatched a plan and with the help of some willing and not so willing school friends I embarked on a series of gruelling rehearsals to form a new band; a more modern take on Queen, where the band members were more likely to be wearing a Gola shell-suit or some knackered Hi-Tec rather than the natty yellow get-up that Freddie seemed to favour.

We got back to school in early September and I was already itching to speak to my new teacher and ask how the school would feel about a break from the normal assembly structure. Would they really be willing to let a four strong band of 7 year olds perform without any teacher guidance or control?! Of course they would!! Looking back now I can see that I would’ve done exactly the same since I’m sure it gave the teachers enough mirth to last for the entire school year.
Both me and the rest of the band were excused from our lessons early and went to don our outfits for the big performance in what was a generally unheard of afternoon assembly. The clock ticked and the school hall PA system quietly hummed while the rest of the school excitedly filed into the hall to be greeted by a blank stage and a twitching curtain. The remaining four of us hidden behind the curtain holding our breath, this was going to be our/my big performance. We were going to nail it!

That was until the curtain pulled back, the drumming started and we saw the hall jam-packed with over 300 kids, teachers and some sneaky parents here for a laugh. My Brian May, my Roger Taylor and the other one all promptly scarpered, literally exiting stage right as fast as their little legs would take them. I was bereft but there was only one thing I could do and that was to go for it! (The show must go on etc.) I’ve got no idea how long the performance lasted but I’d say that it felt like a lot more than one lifetime. Overhead claps and slapping of thighs do not a good performance make even if my squeaky 7 year old’s voice is probably the closest I’ve ever sounded to Freddie Mercury. I’d also like to say that I left the stage to a standing ovation but that would be a bit of a fib. I was met with a generous smile from a friendly music teacher tucked behind his electric organ but apart from that, nothing, nothing but a sea of suppressed giggles and the general apathy of kids who’d rather be playing on the one and only school RM Nimbus!

Funnily enough I’ve not been much of a performer since those days and We Will Rock You is no longer my favourite Queen song…I do still remember the words though!

tldr; Dancing queen ruins assembly
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 12:07, Reply)
Once the entire complement of 450 boys was ordered to the sports hall for a special assembly
We were obviously intrigued as to why it was just the boys that had been invited to this assembly, and very amused to learn that the reason was that some filthy rotter had done a big shit on the floor in one of the boys' toilets.

I don't know if they ever caught the perpetrator.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 11:50, 14 replies)
Like a mighty cannon ball he seems to fly
You'll hear about him everywhere you go,
There'll come a day when everyone will know,
The name of Champion The Wonderhorse!

(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 11:09, 7 replies)
At one school assembly a teacher read out that piece alledgedly written by Martin Niemöller
We all farted and/or shit ourselves and then had laugh wee because we thought the teacher had said, "First they came on the communists."

Came on, ha ha ha ha ha LOL.

Seriously thought I became a lifelong National Socialist because of Niemöller. C18 88
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 11:07, 1 reply)
It being a catholic school...
...assemblies were usually a bit God-themed. Usually this would take the form of some poor teacher desperately labouring to make a tenuous connection between that week's news events and the story of Jesus. Occasionally, though, they'd wheel in the Evangelicals from wherever they were safely confined, just to mix it up a bit.

On this occasion the theme was the evils of pre-marital frottery, and there was already a palpable tension in the room, even before our guest speaker decided the best way to 'connect' with 500 giggling adolescents was to announce that he'd remained a virgin until he got married. At the age of 36.

The headmaster actually facepalmed, as 500 sets of stifled hysterics filled the hall with a haze of vapourised spit.

We'd heard the story of Jesus a thousand times, but it's not every day you get to witness a shiny-eyed, chunky-knit, tambourine-basher* openly admitting to being far less sexually experienced than about half of his audience, and his expression of crushed horror when he realises he's massively misjudged their reaction.

He wasn't invited back.

*Literally and metaphorically.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 10:12, 2 replies)
this one time a pigeon was in the school hall and the teachers couldn't get it out and it were well lol

(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 9:18, 1 reply)
All right. I'm gay. I'm a homo. I like guys.

I still do it with chicks every chance I get ...

and I'm totally good at it ...

but I hate it, and I'm gay.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 1:39, 8 replies)
Now that I think about it
nothing of interest ever happened in my school assemblies. I very much doubt that anything particularly remarkable happened to anyone, really.
That being the case, anyone who's posted a proper story this week is either an insufferable fantasist or a terminal bore.
tl;dr - this is shit and you are all cunts.
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 1:12, 10 replies)
ha i remember this one time in a school assembly
the teacher was all like "be quiet" and we totally carried on talking for like a minute or something
(, Tue 18 Jun 2013, 0:05, 1 reply)
Every Christmas my primary school would do a Christmas Carol assembly for the attached grammar school
We had a particularly militant mental music teacher who had weird control issues. While the whole Primary 6 class was rehearsing 'Away in a Manger' one year, she would halt and randomly point out a child. Then she would accuse them of not knowing the lyrics by screaming at them and make them sing it solo in front of the class.

As they were on the verge of tears from being shouted at for no reason, they inevitiably broke down crying before the teacher shouted "I KNEW IT!" and then chanted the lyrics before making the whole class start again.

After a few days of this it was my turn and got hauled to the front, where I was forced to sing solo. I don't have a singing voice but I managed to croak out the Carol word perfect and while not in tune, I was in time and rythm with her metronome thing on the piano.

She just glared at me and then:

Miss Allen - "Get out"

Me - "Why?"


So I trotted off back to my classroom and read the old Eagle comics in the back. Over the next 20 min two more of my classmates joined me, both with the equally puzzled looks after singing the carol corrrectly. The kind that only a 9 year old has when adults over react for no reason.
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 23:36, 1 reply)
Not much about assemblies

But my headteacher was called Mr. Dick. I think that deserves a mention.

(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 21:29, 9 replies)
Why school halls should never have PA systems
School assemblies for us were relatively uneventful and uninteresting. Occasionally we would have a guest speaker from the local diocese come in and talk about something or other which none of us took real interest in (Except for the modern ideals vicar, who came in with a rope and a bowie knife and tied a Year 7 kid into a chair, only to cut him free in a demonstration of trust - he wasn't allowed back. Possibly for the lack of ritual slaughter of a virgin to appease the masses.)

One day, a very straight-laced vicar came in to talk to us about God and life etc. The talk he gave us was an attempt at humour and this was of course met with 800 stony faces. End of talk. Start of daily announcements about what lunchtime activities there were. Today there was going to be a reggae class in one of the English rooms at 1-

Cue sudden arrival over the speakers of sounds of ukelele and a man singing a very George Formby-esque style song and much mirth from all concerned. Even the Head in his bald majesty had a chuckle. And there was a polite ripple of applause.

Hahaha all very funny yes yes, calm down now chaps. Cue calming silence followed by the immortal blasting out of the chorus from the speakers:


What then followed was a mixture of horror from those on our stage, and explosion of laughing from everyone on the hall floor. Not many ever noticed the almost inaudible click from the sound system as our mystery assailants had loaded up Ivor Biggun's Winker's Song to play at the end of the assembly. To the credit of the staff, no mention of this incident was ever made again. All I will remember was the looks exchanged between the teachers roaring with laughter and the head who was desperately attempting to maintain dignity infront of one of God's representatives on earth.

tl:dr Wanker
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 18:35, 3 replies)
With a grim face, the Deputy Head walked onto the stage..
.. and sadly announced that the headmaster had died in her sleep.

Wesley laughed. Loudly.
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 16:49, 5 replies)
Instead of "Hail Mary" we used to say

(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 16:24, 2 replies)
Once a year, my old school gathered in the town hall for speech day
It was the only occasion on which the school song was sung. This was a dreary old anthem, only enlivened by the fact that you could sing alternate lyrics...so at the end of every chorus, instead of a rousing "Service to the living, honour to the dead", the entire school (and a fair few teachers and pre-warned parents) would sing in unison: "Service to the living, bollocks to the head".

It was particularly obvious as "honour" really doesn't end with a "cks" sound.
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 15:04, 1 reply)
Just remembered!
I have a friend who's school song included the line "Then gather ye together, ye whose emblem is the lily". She said it was a true delight to hear scores of girls joyously belting out the amended line

"Then gather ye together, ye whose emblem is the willy"
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 14:46, 2 replies)
Mr White
The deputy head of our comp was Mr White, a massive stickler for the rules and old-School black gown wearing monster. Assembly was his deal. He had been waiting for old Mr Rhodes to die so he could be Head, but the old codger just wasn't obliging, so he was given the School assemblies.

We all feared for his close friends and family as whenever we were given a talking to about the dangers of modern living he invariably knew someone who had fallen foul of each particular devilment we were being warned about.

The railway lines were being (slowly) electrified on the intercity line between that london and the norf. Mr White's brother in law just so happened to have met a charry end by introducing his carbon fibre fishing rod to an overhead electrical wire outside a train station.

On the subject of alcohol abuse, Mr White's niece once got her pony a little bit tipsy by soaking her carrots in babysham.

Another time, as the rozzers were giving us a talk about the dangers of drugs, Mr white's wife's second cousin's daughter was killed in a tragic case of self-immolation from a fucked-up homebrew meth pot.

When the local animal park visited, Mr White's neighbour's uncle was eviscerated and torn to bits by babboons in Woburn Safari. They even bent his car aerial.

I could go on, as could Mr White, to varying levels of (un)believability, but I'll just stop.
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 13:00, Reply)
Altogether now:-He's got the whole world down his pants.
and of course... He's got everybody queer down his pants.
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 12:55, 3 replies)
Barry Kent sang rude words in assembly so I reported him.
Nigel grassed me up though. Just my luck!
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 12:26, 10 replies)
Actually a work assembly, but they're very much the same.
During the "financial downturn", the new guy heading up our London office called a school assembly to explain why we should all work hard to turn things around.

Unfortunately, I have no idea which presentation he'd used as a template, but for some reason there was a motorbike noise on the slide transition he hadn't noticed on his soundless PC before presenting it to the whole company in our conference room, on a PC that very much had sound.

Dire financial results and discussions of redundancies were therefore punctuated by an increasingly hilarious "vroom, vroom", with many of us mentally contorted as to whether we could admit this was funny, or had to remain serious and professional looking. I think I lasted about 8 slides before collapsing in giggles.

**EDIT: the only difference is that there are fewer hymns. I might suggest adding them in**
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 12:04, Reply)
My Headmastar the legend? Try tosspot
I never really gotten on with my primry schol headmaster. He liked education, i liked xbox. He liked the three arse and extra math's, i liked playin football with guys my own age and watching TV

The straw wich broke the camel spack however was something so trivial that Im amazed it's came to no contact with him, the other teachers and all my clasmates.........

It was (at the time)my sister school panto they were gonna show it right after assembly, Id been asked to play the back end of the horse which naturally was noproblem cos am good actor, so I packed up my intended outfit and took 15 minute journey to the school and settled in before 9am start.i got there, hello! hello! hello! from my teacher, the head? what costume you brouht, ah cheers , thanks

I bring out my outfit(some Clown shoes and a spotty rompersuit,which we're my favourite cloths) , as i've mentioned in another post any horrible brown furry horse leg trousers bring me out in a rash and wearing them for any period of time is literally torture. He takes 1 look at my cloths, walks into the wings and literelly *throws* some fleabitten old panto costume at me saying "wear this", and then walks offstage leaving me and my teacher in stunned disbelief.

Rest of the time before assembly passes awkwardly as I struggle to figure out am I a 7y/o child being told what to do or a 11y/o boy who balls have actually drop and am well on the way to man?? So totally put on my own cloths just bfor curtain rises to both my teachers and Head's horror. Kids in audience thought well funny but Head refuses to look at me and just leaves the assemblyhall ,after the play finish my sister come up to and asks me "why didnt you wear the horse legs?" to which I reply with the same thing I said to my head and classmates straght afterwoods:

"If the costume are so important to you then why don't you cast some REAL Horselegs instead of me? If you want me to the STAR then let me wear my own God damn costume".

My sister looks like I'd stab her with a sticklebrix after taking her (hopefully) fave pokemon cards and burning them with a fisherprice micoscope in the sunny day. Yes I felt guilty but The head? Wouldn't even look at me.

We get change and go to our own classes, lots of whispers mong the teachers about "showoff twat" and "fuck little tit runing it for every1 Else" while Im loudly point out to my Classmates the glaringly obvious fact that all the kids on Stage also wearing costumes just different sort but apparently, what's good for the goose isn't good for the gander,It's only right that the Guest Star should get itchy willy for the sake of a poxxy hALF hORSE!!

We get thrpugh the lessons, I go home on time and tell mummy that i aint goin to school no more cos the teacher's were bullying me. i then made some up about the Head touchin me backstage and he lost his JOB,LOL!but all due to a half of horse costum my teacher's and schoolfriend's no longer refuses to speak to me as apparently I dint look the part,which they could only tell me through my mum at my sister parent's evenng. As a result, this was the last time I saw my best friends , my bro's Timmy and sebastian who we're 10 & 11 at the time ihave since gone too big svhool tho and its much better although i aint have no friends their and they all hat me

i have start to fancy boys.also wear girls cloths and they are FAR more comftable:))))
(, Mon 17 Jun 2013, 10:00, 10 replies)
ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven.

(, Sun 16 Jun 2013, 23:02, 15 replies)

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