The primary school was quite normal,
as I was a geek kid (math and chess).

But then I discovered booze and philosophy, so the word turned upside down. Where should I start?

Living in a shitty country, the water would run out for a few hours once in a while. That's why they kept those large barrels of water in the bathrooms so classes could send someone to clean the sponges.

Well, we just waited until someone entered to take a dump during the breaks, checked if he was alone in there then tipped the barrel of dirty water in the direction of the stall. That's roughly 500 litres of drink washing your feet, at full speed, in a limited space.

What else? Well, building a large, foul spit for a few minutes, then projecting it onto the ceiling, and sitting near the spot for the whole break waiting it to fall on the heads of unsuspecting passers.

Pissing in a bottle, on Friday, in winter, than spraying the piss on the radiators at the end of the day. Imagine the smell on Monday.

When we randomly met the Latin teacher (a small, jovial figure, but such an airhead) we would suck up to him, make compliments while dragging him to our class. The guy would forget where he was going in the process, would enter the class and start teaching. Then the real teacher would pop in, accusing him of stealing classes and such. Worked about 3 times.

I won't even start about skipping classes (bars would see no problem selling booze to 16-year-olds)...
(randomset, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 9:37, Reply)

Clucking fun
(see * for short version)

Once a month in our town, there used to be an agricultural auction on what is now Waitrose' carpark. One lunchtime, my mate Miles and I decided to take a look while we munched on our sandwiches. I don't remember noticing him bidding. He did bid and won which became apparent when he handed over his tenner and came away carrying a small cage containing two live chickens.

A plan evolved all by itself. We had double chemistry after lunch so we went back early, snuck into the lab and released the chickens. We left and returned a few minutes later to wait in line outside the lab with the rest of the class. Didn't tell anyone what we'd done.

Our teacher, Bomber, so called because he went for a very slow jog every lunchtime, arrived and entered the lab, the class followed him inside.

"Who let those in here?" barked bomber as he set eyes upon the chickens now happily running around under the tables and chairs. Almost as if it had been rehearsed, we were well used to winding up Bomber, the whole class responded "let in what sir?". Bomber, now stuttering badly shouted "Those ch-ch-chickens!". "What chickens?" we all asked innocently. Can't quite remember what Bomber screamed at us but it may have involved swear words and it almost certainly contained the phrase "fucking get them out of here now!".

Bomber stood by the whiteboard watching, his usually pale face now a glowing crimson in colour, as twenty or so boys pretended to try to catch the two chickens... A boy caught hold of a chicken, "I've got one!" he exclaimed, then deliberately let it go, "oh dear, it's got away" he lied. This continued for just about half of the double lesson.

Eventually the chickens were returned to their cage and put outside in the corridor. Miles and I were requested to join them for the rest of the lesson.

Mr Duncan walked past. He was one of the more fierce teachers and he'd often stopped for a "friendly chat" with boys from our class, more often than not, me. "What have you two been up to?" he asked. "We let these chickens free in the lab" we confessed. "Ha ha ha" echoed his laughter as he continued along the corridor.

After the lesson had finished, Bomber had calmed down and Miles said something along the lines of "I'm sorry sir, I put the chickens in the class for safe keeping, the cage can't have been properly fastened". Bomber was OK about it, I think he'd like to have marched us to the Headmaster but then he didn't really want the whole school to know that a whole half hour of one of his classes had been spent chasing fowl.

"What are you going to do with them?" asked Bomber, a vegan as it happens. "Eat them" said Miles and merrily we went on our way.

* We let some chickens free in the chemistry lab.
( stopmeandslapme Cometh the hour, cometh your mum, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 8:16, 1 reply)

Waving, not drowning....
I singlehandedly reduced a substitute teacher's credibility to zero on her first week.

It was year 11 physics, and we were studying (or supposed to be) Wave Physics. It was one of the most tedious parts of physics, and there was no way in the world it could possibly hold my attention.

That particular day, we were doing wave propagation. I think. I wasn't paying attention.

The teacher, who had only been at the school for a couple of days, and was covering for a teacher who was on long service leave (so she was stuck with us for the next couple of months regardless), noticed that I wasn't paying attention (I was probably daydreaming and/or trying to look up the girls' skirts) and barked at me:

"Elcat, use 'propagate' in a sentence."

Without missing a beat, I looked her in the eye, and said "People used to walk across our garden until we got a proper gate"

The room collapsed into raucous laughter. There was to be no teaching done for the rest of that lesson.

My friends still mention it as the apex of my schooling career. That was more than 20 years ago.



Click "I like this" if I should stop dwelling on past glories.
(David CopAFeel Used to be The_Elcat - Spouting crap since 1970., Sat 31 Jan 2009, 7:24, 1 reply)

The Giggles
All through school I was prone to enormous fits of the giggles- not just a wee laugh but serious, uncontrollable fits of mirth that often landed me in trouble with teachers who for some reason didn't share with me in the amusement.

It was especially bad during sixth form when I shared almost every class with one of my best mates, Rebe. Both possessing the humour of an eight year old boy, we were constantly reducing one another into fits of helpless giggling, that kind of giggling where no matter how hard you want to or know you should stop you just CAN'T.

This was seriously the gist of an entire academic year:

Me: (looking down at previously blank piece of refill) hey, someone did a picture on my paper....

hahahahahaha, it's of a poo!

Rebe: (starts silent-laughter-shoulder-shaking as she adds something to the picture)

Me: wha.... OH MY GOD IT'S A COWBOY HAT, THIS POO IS WEARING A COWBOY HAT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Both: catch each other's eye

Both: All over. Hysterical laughter.

Both: Sent outside to sit in the hall and think about our childish behaviour.

Both: Think about it and agree we're awesome.
(Mr._F is not actually a man- this username is a lie!, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 5:10, 3 replies)

Popularity
I was without a doubt, the most popular kid in school. I remember how all the kids were so concerned for my safety, they'd often take a bite out of my lunch to make sure it wasn't poisoned.

Were any of you lot as popular as me?
( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 4:08, 10 replies)

Just remembered a funny one
when I was a gobby and nerdy little shite in year 8 - I learnt Japanese.

One day - my regular Japanese teacher wasn't there. We had Mrs V instead. Mrs V was a Literature and journalism teacher - thus she had no clue about Japanese lessons.
She had a remarkably short temper, and was highly reminiscent of Professer Umbridge from Harry Potter in that she was Short (shorter then I was/am - and that's saying something!), Fat, nasty, sugar sweet when she wanted.

Anywho - so me and my friends are all talking and laughing and basically wasting time because there was nothing else to do when she suddenly yells out
"QUIET!!!"
Silence ensues for all of three minutes before we all start talking and laughing again. Suddenly we hear:
"WHAT PART OF QUIET DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!!?"
one of the boys pipes up with
"The 'Q'"
"GET THE HELL OUT!!!"
She was at this point, bright red, froth dribbling from her mouth, eyes deranged and bulbous. It took all of my self control not to laugh.

At this point she had been fiddling with the TV trying to get a movie on for the last fifteen minutes. She couldn't get the tv to work - so she shifted us in to the next room, where two girls had been talking with (shock horror!) their feet on the table!
"Get your feet off the table please! that's filthy!" she snapped!
At this point another boy pipes up with
"you have to do what she says now - she pulled out the P-word"
At this point, being a gobby little giggler, I lost it, and the boy who said that, myself and half the class got sent out of the class for laughing at her, whereby we promptly started laughing even harder for hours.

I think this has to be one of my few very happy memories from school.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 31 Jan 2009, 2:14, Reply)

Can I get a copy of that please sir?
I was in sociology class and our teacher was holding up a copy of the mock exam for the previous year. It was open on a page showing an example of a magazine cover, for GQ magazine I believe. There was a picture of a pretty ripped guy on this cover, looking all moody and greased up. One of the guys in the class promptly stuck up his hand and shouted "Can I get a copy of that please sir?" rather over eagerly.

I took this enthusiasm to imply that said guy was in fact a gay, and eager to get a hold of the picture of the ripped guy. I started laughing and I couldn't stop. The class was on hold for about 10 minutes whilst I calmed down.

I'm still laughing about it now.....

...my boyfriend thinks I'm immature.
( The Doveston haunted by the memory of his own amnesia, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 2:05, Reply)

Sorry - not very funny this one
Last year at the very beginning of my school year, I found myself somehow being slowly but surely cut out of my group of friends. I couldn't figure out what had happened, what I'd done. When I confronted the girl who I thought was my best friend, she turned on me and started yelling at me, telling me how she'd never liked me at all, how I was a crappy friend, how I never did this that and the other thing.
I was completely and utterly bewildered. I had had no idea I was doing any of the things she claimed I was doing (stealing her boyfriend when she was one of the first people I came out of the closet to?? makes a lot of sense that did).

I spent several months feeling very hurt and upset, because not only did my "best friend" turn on me, she also turned all my other friends against me.

I found some new friends - who have since proved much better then the friends who turned on me ever did. Slowly started putting myself back together, getting myself a spine.

A few months down the track, me and my ex "friends" had a massive blowout. I told them how I felt about what they had done, and what I thought about them for it. I wasn't mad at them at all! I just wanted to get everything off my chest. But people don't like hearing the bad about themselves (myself included), and they jacked up something fierce.
I was just proud that I didn't walk away crying. I got my point across and left it at that. Told them they could be whoever they wanted to be, but that they were finished fucking with my life.

Fast forward to the end of the school year. I'm in a much healthier and happier place. I'm not depressed and I'm actually going out with my friends and working and starting to make something of myself.

Me and one of my ex friends started slowly acknowledging each other again, and I figured something was up so we had this big long talk away from everyone else. I didn't walk away with my friend back, but I did walk away with a good measure of self respect and happiness. It turns out this friend had just been too silly not to speak up when my other "friend" had been such a bitch. I forgave her, because I really wasn't mad in the first place, and now I knew exactly what had been going on.

I guess all I'm trying to say is school is a fucked up place to be if you don't know how to swim.
My new friends are lovely people, and I would take a bullet for them. I'm not just saying that. They helped pull me out of a depressive spiral, stuck by me, and if we fight (very rarely) - we make sure to work everything out. It's a much healthier group of people to be friends with.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sat 31 Jan 2009, 1:52, 3 replies)

I have another one...
This one was rather amusing at the time... I was in year 12.

At school I wasn't a 'popular kid' or a 'neardy kid'... I was sort of in the middle. I didn't care as I had a bloody GREAT bunch of mates, and still do...anywho

I was in the library one lunch time, with the same bunch of mates (not working, making too much noise, that sort of thing) and a guy (Matt) in Year 10 came up and said 'Hi'. Me, being the nice, caring, thoughtful 6th former that I was, said 'Hi' in return.

One of Matt's mates (Jordan, also year 10, and much cooler than Matt... not even in the same level of clingy-ness Matt had) came over and said 'Hey'.

There we were, about 12 of us sat around a table, and one friend of mine (Callum... bit nerdy, but a legend respectivly) suddenly shouts to Matt "YOU CAN'T GET IT UP! YOU CAN'T GET A BONER"
Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE in the library (around 70 people) all collapse with laughter (I was the one with my head on the desk, eyes streaming with tears it was that funny).
Matt's face shows a combination of complete shock, deepest upset and raving hatred for Callum (At the time, we were very immature and started conversations such as "Clive... how much would it cost for you to snort condensed deoderant?" [it was £1.75, for the record] and the insult of the time was "you're gay").

Matt, meanwhile, stands up and regains whats left of his dignity and shouts (louder than Callum did) "WELL, IT'S NOT MY FAULT I'VE GOT AN ERECTILE DISFUNCTION!!"
Again, whole room (Librarian included [he was a legend also])practically explode with laughter and Matt runs out of the room in a mood... possibly crying.

Not seen Matt since. He couldn't so anywhere without someone shouting "YOU CAN'T GET IT UP!"





Length: best ten minutes of my school life
(one-winged-angel-616 isn't as depressed as she sounds, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:42, Reply)

Great Expectations. . .

For some unknown reason my class at school was taken on a trip to the Barbican in London to see some people on stage do something...

Sorry, its a bit vauge...

It had something to do with an English lesson, but I was always far too busy looking at Samantha Sidney's breasts to take any notice of Shakespeare or god knows what.

I didnt know what a sonnet was, or who Macbeth might be, but I knew the exact dimensions of Sam Sidney's nipples through her sweater and how different temperatures caused them to rise and fall by degrees, by the end of the first term.

Anyway, we're all on the bus trundling down the M1 to London. The teacher, a stressed out little shit of a man named Mr Cliff, starts fucking about with the driver's microphone. His voice crackles over the loudspeaker.

"Class 4B, well be arriving in London in the next half hour, when we get to our destination blah blah blah blah blah"

No one was paying any attention. We were a bunch of kids from the Midlands going down to London for the day, we were fucking hyper. We were hoping to witnesses a genuine stabbing or armed robbery. We might even see someone famous, like the midgets out of Bros, or the Queen, or maybe even Ann Diamond.

So, Mr Cliff, just sort of trailed off his speech, having failed to engage his flock. But as he went to return the microphone to its holster on the dashboard, he muttered something barely audible under his breath. Barely audible, that is, before the microphone picked it up and amplified it round the bus.

"Dont know why I bother. The useless little fuckers are only gonna end up pushing brooms round car factories..."

And there was silence...

Oh, Mr Cliff! How wrong you were!

They closed down all the car factories a long, long time before we all left school...
( SpankyHanky, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:39, Reply)

Exam Exit
After 5 years, it's probably best to assume that when your headteacher bursts into the exam hall during your GCSEs and drags kids out of class because their girlfriends are in labour in the local hospital... you're probably in the local chav school.

Especially when it happened 5 times during my exams.

(Cries as he realises those GSCE newborns are now 11 years old...)
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:38, 1 reply)

When I was at school
I asked my older cousin if he was still in touch with any of his school mates, only to be told that one of them was in jail for smashing another's head in with a claw hammer, and another former class mate had been locked up for repeatedly felating horses. I'd love to be a fly on the wall at that school reunion.


edit: I was later to find out that some 60% of my former school-mates are now junkies. And this was at the poshest school in the surrounding counties. Go figure.
(Roopy all is not what it seams, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:25, 2 replies)

None of the teachers seemed to understand IT...
*unlurk*

The IT people didn't bother making the image that was displayed on the log in screen read only.

The networked folder that contained teacher's accounts was read only, but still gave a list of teacher's usernames. So a bruteforce tool that used the web folders was easy to make. Out of the 70 or so teachers, 17 used "password", "123456" or "qwerty" as their password. Using a teacher account to remote control other student's PCs was inevitable. Later, I found that a test account with basic admin powers also had "password" for a password. Unlimited printer credits and banning people I didn't like at will was most enjoyable.

*relurk*
(Vusys Nothing to see here, move along, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:17, 8 replies)

Playground footie
The bell sounding at break or dinner time meant just one thing for us 13 year olds, legging it on to the tennis courts for a game of footie.

Problem was we werent allowed to play on there so we always got kicked off and had to settle for the playground. That led to the inevitable broken windows and the scattering of all present when it happened before Mr Theobald the CDT teacher would appear to take the names of all present and issue detention slips.

It got to the stage where there were about 5 windows boarded up and the school finally got the council out to replace them.

In their infinite wisdom, the council workers decided to start work at break time in the middle of an intense match.

How could the situation get worse? while the guys were measuring up the window, they left the door of the van open, only for David Lewis to unleash a thunderbolt miles off target into the back of the van. Smashing all the replacement panes of glass in the process.

There was no need for cry of scatter as a playground full of 13 year old lads instantly broke all personal best sprinting records, leaving 2 bemused looking blokes stood looking at the shattered glass all over the back of their van.

Happy Days
(brocky, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:12, Reply)

Geography
Miss Gorden was fresh out of teacher training. If you knocked your pencil on the floor, she would instantly bend over to pick it up to avoid the disruption of people getting up from their chair. If you knocked it far enough, she had to turn her back to you before bending...

I enjoyed Geography that year, but I didn't learn a fucking thing.
(mister_barfly, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:06, Reply)

Sugar and spice.
I went to a boys' school in South Africa. Very posh, fancied itself the local Eton. Blue blazers and boaters in the African summer. Canings. Rumours of buggery in the boarding house. I was a sensitive sort and depressed a lot of the time.

When I was 13, I was lucky to be offered a special extramural art course at an external institution. Girls! I thought, bracing my young loins for the pantsless shenanigans that would doubtlessly occur.

The truth was that the place was mostly girls, and mostly for girls, which is to say it was decidedly hostile to boys. All projects were very prettie-craftie-flowerie, and we had a hideous fat teacher who plainly hated the presence of the two nasssty boysss in her class.

To compound the problem, I had a bully: Judy. Judy was the prototypical hefty brute-girl. Did all the rough boy sports in select local leagues, including some martial arts.

I'd been bullied a little at my own school, but commanded some respect for being a font of illicit knowledge, creative filthmongering, and appearing for some reason (occult geekiness) be in league with His Infernal Majesty, but here I had no defences. She was, if anything, larger than me, and being a fairly decent chap on the whole, I couldn't bring myself to hit a girl.

The pattern was simple. Judy would say something nasty, I would retort, Judy would kick, scratch or hit me, and then tattle on me. Teacher would heap the usual withering putdowns on the nasssty boy.

After a few months of this, and me in a bad state, Judy delivered a kick on the shins that drew blood, and I snapped. I grabbed her wrist, and put it in a tight lock between her scapulae. threatening murder. She cried, and I snuck off home.

I received a phone call that night, and was told to apologise to her. I did, grudgingly, and asked her to leave me alone.

Naturally the bullying increased, but not from Judy - from the teacher, who heaped her best abuse on me every time I went there. There were vague threats like "I'd have recommended your expulsion" and I was told that my own school would be notified of my misdeeds, and told that my work was rubbish and so on.

I couldn't really go on, and thoroughly hated the perfume and turpentine-reeking place anyway, so my parents, chastising me for squandering the wonderful opportunity, relented and cancelled my lessons.

It sounds perhaps a little over the top, but the experience really embittered me. I've developed a pretty jaundiced view of whatever I consider "victim" feminism and a belief that while men are frequently the thugs they're reputed to be, women don't get nearly enough flak for their own brand of conspiratorial evil. If you believe in equality, I say, be equally misanthropic toward women.
(Ladyfingers is in your wardrobe,, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 0:06, 2 replies)

It's raining.....
Not me, but something witnessed by my older brother during his time as a scout. He and the rest of the troop were on a scout camp (not really a camp, they stayed in the local scout meeting place wherever they happened to have gone to, with sleeping bags of course). Dawn was breaking, and some people were already awake, and it happened to be raining that morning, and oddly, someone there said 'it's raining' and a guy called lawrence (for that is his name' replied, in his sleep 'I'm gay!'

He never lived that one down :)
(Howling_Mad Gave God the finger on:, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 23:49, 2 replies)

Stories from CLHS, Lancs

1. Friend of mine was very fond of a teacher who had decided to retire, so she had a collection and bought him a tankard. On the day of presentation, a lad in her class decided to take the piss and started to shout that she was in love with the elderly gent, so good ole Rosie hit him around the head with her knap-sack. He had a deep gash in the head and had to be hospitalised.

2. History teacher known as the sheepshagger (who spat so much when he spoke that he you need a towel) was not the most popular chap. Same person as mentioned above (female) really hated, a feeling that was mutual so on one day she, as was her wont chose to scream “SHEEPSHAGGER” through the open door and leg it. Problem was that he had had a very bad day and this one action caused a complete mental breakdown. He started throwing things at the pupils who were very soon ushered out of the chamber for their own protection. Was never heard of again.

3. One day at my primary school a couple of children decided to find out what would happen if the dropped someone on their head. Middle of summer, parched earth, again rushed to hospital, but no serious injury. Most of my school year are now in clink for sexual and violent offences.

4. English teacher Susan H decided on Maths teacher Mr Sunny G’s birthday to surprise him by borrowing a pupil’s sister’s wonderbra and singing Happy Birthday to him a la Marilyn Monroe while doing a striptease.
(992234177, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 23:40, 1 reply)

Good Times


In the heady days of art school, my girlfriend at the time would often be feeling a little frisky, and enjoyed a quick shag in my car, an empty room - wherever was available really. Being a new school year, there were people running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find their respective classes.

There was one stairwell in particular that lead to an unlocked door, into an alcove about 5 feet square, with a locked door opposite. As my girlfriend was rather petite, it was a perfect place to pin her up and knock her about in spastic glee. No one ever went down there, because it didn't lead anywhere (duh).

So, imagine our surprise , as a girl no more than 18 opened the door, no doubt expecting a classroom of spotty keeners, only to find my pants around my knees, my girlfriend on hers, with a mouthful of "fine art" as it were. The poor girl turned white as a sheet as we looked in her direction; I was fully at attention as she screamed and, I assume, left the building, because I never saw her again, hopefully having either scarred her for life or turned her into some sex crazed deviant.
(goorf, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:55, 1 reply)

Music college
I went to one of the most prestigious, exclusive conservatoires in the world, but it was notoriously badly run. The admin department was shocking, and crucially, communication between different departments left a lot to be desired.

This college ran a world-famous opera course. This course has produced some of the world's best singers, and has a reputation for really preparing students for the realities of life as an opera singer. One of those realities is that opera producers these days LOVE sex. Everybody is sexing up their opera productions with as much nudity and humping as possible, and so opera singers have to be able and willing to pimp themselves out on stage. So, as part of their acting training, these wannabe Pavarottis had a weekly class in learning to shed their inhibitions. They would start off small, humping chairs and tables, progressing to humping one another.

The college also had a pretty good string department, which would have an open day in the autumn - lots of bright-eyed sixth formers and their parents, who would be taken on a guided tour of the place.

Nobody had thought to tell the opera department that the string department was having an open day. And nobody had thought to tell the string department that the opera department was holding one of its 'lose your inhibitions' sessions in one of the big rehearsal rooms.

Picture the scene: Several dozen 16-18-year-olds and their parents, staring open-mouthed at several dozen obese opera singers noisily humping chairs.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:46, Reply)

Many tales.....
When I was a young howling_mad, I had many amusing experiences at (secondary) school:

1. My year 7 maths teacher who couldn't speak proper english (she was of the indian persuasion), favourite phrases from her include: "7 times 7 is 47", (when someone happened to have fallen off their chair and ended up sitting on the floor): "why you downstairs ?", and another (usually when talking about fractions and was using as an example): "you take a nice big yum-yum cake", and finally (when talking about rounding numbers up): "if it's 5 and a bow" (as in taking a bow or bowing).

2. Mr Walsh (another maths teacher, he never taught me, but almost everyone called him 'The Walshenator'), he had this unique talent for being both scary and funny at the same time, he had a fairly deep voice and when the room was quiet you could hear him breathing like darth vader (as it seems alot of really overweight people seem to do). The funniest memory of him that stands out in my mind was the time he was looking in on my maths class through the little window in the door, and a relatively new guy sitting at the back, pointed at him, and said out loud: "Ah! A monster!"

3. Another maths teacher (this time my year 8 maths teacher). His main personality traits were having a notoriously short fuse and (when pissed off) a very loud voice, which frequently summoned the teacher in the class room directly above us down to have a good yell. The funniest thing I remember about him is the time where he ended up taking a lesson in the textiles teacher's room, and the class annoyed him so much he started headbutting the white board, he headbutted it so hard it came off the wall!

4. My year 8 science teacher, who had the same personality traits as my year 8 maths teacher apart from the whiteboard headbutting. In a single 50 minute lesson, he once managed to send out half the class for talking and being loud (his average in a lesson was anything between 2 and 6). Normal in-class activities there included him banging a meter rule against his desk shouting 'I can make noise too!", him prowling around the classroom and sending anyone who so much as squeaked, him shouting/bellowing: "Get Out!", us answering the register in funny voices, my personal favourite was the army-style "Sir, yes sir!", and me and someone else holding up funny signs in class that said things like 'U R gay!" and "shut it buttmunch!".

5. My year 9 to 12 maths teacher, now me and him never got on from the start and this showed more and more as time went on, one time during a year 10 or 11 maths class, i managed to give him the finger for most of the lesson before someone else in the class pointed me out (for those wondering how i did that, rest your chim on your hand facing your intended target, only have your middle finger raised, and rest your chin on your remaining fingers).

6. My german teacher in years 8 and 9 was actually german and was easy to annoy, combine these 2 facts with almost any class and you're guaranteed a few laughs. Funny things we did in class included writing '2 world wars and 1 world cup' on the front of our exercise books, and putting our hands up in class and saying random german phrases, my 2 personal favourites were: "mein hamster hat kopfschmerzen" (translation: "my hamster has a head-cold") and "ich mag pastete" (translation: "I like pie"). Now things like this happened just about every lesson and to vastly varying degrees (one person in another of his classes answered the register by doing the nazi salute and saying 'heil hitler!' I believe said person was suspended on the spot) but I was one of only 2 people to have infuriated him enough to get an after school detention (for excessively showing off my impression of either a seal or a walrus).

7. This one is something my older brother witnessed, in his geography teacher's classroom, the tannoy speaker's volume dial had been broken off, and it was stuck at maximum volume, this obviously made lessons hard to teach, and it culminated in him shouting "If I had a knob I'd screw it back on!".

8. Fast forward a few years and I was then doing my AS/A2 levels, where in my free periods that I actually tuned up to (ones that were scheduled as the last lesson on the day I always bunked, I was famous for it, in that I never got caught, and one time I even went right past the headmaster on the way out, he didn't bat an eyelid but I digress) were usually at around the same time as morning break for the primary school right next to us, and one kid could do a PERFECT impression of a police siren, and many a-people at least snigger.

I could put in some sexy (but also considered amusing) stories of certain incidents at my secondary school but that would make this post hella long.

Length? 7 years I spent at that secondary school.
(Howling_Mad Gave God the finger on:, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:26, Reply)

Alf, Pardner
Just as we were to begin our last two years at high school, the "bad kids" school down the road was closed down and some of the kids sent to our school for their final two years (although to be honest looking back I don't think they were much worse than we would have been). Some of their teachers came too. Much "hilarity" was to ensue:

* Six foot lengths of dowelling sanded down to about the size of a pencil, sharpened, and used to stab people in the arse.
* Availability of drugs increased, this was a benefit actually :) (although notwithstanding the story further down).
* Someone stole ammonia (or so they thought) from the science storeroom and sprayed me in the face with it (I later heard, to "try it out"). Don't think it was though, as it had no effect. They got caught during the next raid and expelled.
* Some of the new kids got caught doing the world's most blatant sneaky drug deal (in front of a window while some teachers were watching).
* Peter Thompson punching the PE teacher in the face because he didn't want to run the 1500m. Didn't see him again after that. Shame really, seemed a decent bloke (n.b. Peter, not the teacher, who was a prize cock).
* Some sort of well dodgy drug/protection racket where a deal would be arranged "on credit" only for it to go wrong and the money to be paid up anyway under threat of gang violence. One of the kids responsible for this actually ended up face first in a bonfire about four months later, the little cuntsniff.
* Metalwork lessons with flying metal objects. It was reasonably commonplace to be doing a spot of welding or whatever when a hammer, spanner or random lump of metal would fly past your (or someone else's) ear. 'Twas like some sort of extreme, retarded tetris. God knows how nobody got seriously hurt (although someone got a nasty burn from hot glue on his neck).

Thinking about it, it was pretty shit at the time, but with the benefit of experience I chuckle about it now...
(puerile is really getting into seagulls lately., Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:11, 1 reply)

DAD!
Is the worst way to address random teachers in front of a full class.
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:10, 3 replies)

French class....
While school may be a few years past now, there are still a few memories that I like to trundle out when I am feeling nostalgic.

I was lucky enough to go to Boarding School (private school down in NZ, I think it's termed a public school in the UK) and received a small scholarship from the Govt, on account of the fact that I was taking subjects I couldn't back in my back-country hicksville school.

One of the subjects I was taking was French (I was luckier than my sister, who had 5 years of learning Latin....) and we were lucky enough to have a cool teacher - Mr Fraser - think beard, flares and a sense of humour.

In my third year at college (age 15 or so) French had ceased being compulsary, and as a result the class was small - a dozen of us, made up of those upper class twats whose parents forced them to learn French to give them some culture, a few of us being forced to do it, and one or two people who were genuinely interested.

So we are sitting in class one day, in the midst of a lesson about verbs or what-not, and suddently one of the afore-mentioned twats puts up his hand to ask a question.

"Sir.. what's French for c**t?"

Cue burst of laughter from the rest of us, and (thankfully) a ry smile on the face of the teacher.

"Don't worry about that, just get back to your verbs" was his response (in hindsight, rather well contained).

Next thing all you could hear was a rythmic light thumping on desks.. "c**t... c**t... c**t..." slowly getting louder as we all joined in..

After about 20 seconds of this, and sensing that if we continued it would be audible outside the classroom, Mr Fraser (to his eternal credit) then proceeded to give us a 15 minute lesson on French swear-words, and phrases /insults.

To this day, and nearly 30 years after, I can still remember the french for "go and f**k yourself" while "Janet and John go the bakery to buy a croissant" has long since faded into the past.

PS. As I recall, the utilisation of choice phrases in the end-of-year exam did not assist greatly...

PPS. My mother, herself a French teacher and shocked when I failed my mid-term exams, took advantage of my convelescing from a minor foot operation in the school holidays to force me to spend 5 hours a day improving my French skills. I should thank her for the solid 54% I achieved for the year!!
(alnhelzz, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:09, 2 replies)

Music lesson, primary 3...
I was so bored I put my fingers down my throat and did a little vom on the floor.

Unfortunately one of the lezzer music teachers saw me and made me mop it up. Those were the days!
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 22:02, Reply)

Mental breakdown fun
We used to have RE classes at school that were compulsory. I may have been OK with these if we got to learn about different religions, development of organized religion etc. Unfortunately they were mainly Christian brainwashing/recruitment drives.

This was bad because I have never been a huge fan of anything that is compulsory, religion in general or the Zealot who was trying to teach us. As a result the stage was set for the unstoppable force to meet the immovable object.

As it was a private school with polite kids who were well trained to provide the required answer the Zealot had it too easy Q) What makes the world go round? A) Love, Sir!

However when I suggested that the answer was: Most of the rotation comes about from the conservation of angular momentum and gravitational force. I was told that this answer was incorrect, and to try again. I thought for a second and then informed him that without a doubt Money makes the world go round. He then argued (not very well) for the rest of the lesson that this was shocking and obviously it was the Love of Jesus that was the source.

It went on like this for several weeks with the ante being raised progressively. The culmination of this war of attrition was the day when the Zealot climbed the stairs to his classroom to the sound of music. I had organized the entire class for an impromptu rendition of Kumbaya. Thirty of us were all belting it out at top volume like some sort of Gremlin carol singers when he entered the classroom. I’m sure I saw something in his spirit break.

After that the Zealot was off for several weeks and his condition was discussed in hushed voices. All was forgotten for many years when just the other day his name came up in conversation with a younger lady who attended the same school. “Oh!” She mentioned conspiratorially, “He had a nervous breakdown one time…”

I must admit that I smiled a bit.
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 21:55, Reply)

I've got loads of these!
My old school had many memorable teachers: but some that stick out in my memory are:- Mr "Pwince":- student teacher and total mardarse. Ridiculed by all and sundry, especially when he walked past the smoker's wall while on duty. Even to the extent that kids used to spit on the back of his jacket, and he wouldn't retaliate 'cos he was a mardarse.
Mr Wilton:- Head of the Science department and Genius Physics Teacher. Didn't give a crap if your experiments didn't work. He would just tell you why. Looked like Rowley Birkin off the Fast Show, and my science hero.
Miss Ethel Smith:- totally insane Chemistry teacher. Used to bang her left arm on the table and scream "Why, why must I teach incompetent children!" I once set my jumper on fire in one of her lessons in sixth form, and she just threw a beaker of water over me.
Ernie Blewitt:- another insane Chemistry Teacher(must be all that mercury). Fond of country dancing and sneaking up on unsuspecting kids and cuffing them on the top of the head with a balled fist: did it so often that it became known as getting a "blue"
Aaaaaahhhhh Happy Days!
Edit:-I've just remembered something else about Ernie Blewitt. he once built a still in the Chemistry block and used it to make some kind of what appeared to be brandy.
(The Yongy Bongy Bo brought to you in glorious monochrome, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 21:54, 1 reply)

water bomb
Lower 6th in late 80s, and my mate Rob had bagged himself a girl from the upper 6th- much kudos. So, being the kind sensitive and caring souls we were, we got him a nice Xmas present to share with her- a Mates variety pack. They blushed and all that, much laughter was had at their expense, but all in good fun.

Later that morning we're in the locker room, and along comes Rob, with his 3-pack visible in his pocket. "So, you gonna use them on her later or we making water bombs?" we joked. "Water bombs" he said. He ripped one open and it was green- Sellafield green. We stuck it around the tap and turned it on. It filled up nicely, and grew quickly. And kept on growing. And growing.

It got to about 10' long and we were waiting for it to burst. We bottled it and turned the tap off, tied a knot and hid it in an open locker. As were were walking away the door burst open and it slid out like a snake- much more hilarious than I can describe- but didn't burst.

Made of tough stuff these Mates. Bravely, Rob undid the knot at the risk of getting soaked, and we filled it even more, until it was in serious danger of causing a flood.

We needed to ditch it, quick, but it was now too big to fit in a locker, so suddenly, there were three of us, running around the back of the gym with a waterfilled dayglo snake which must have been a good 20' long. We threw it over the bike shed in a synchronised over our heads kind of lob. It went high, very high, spinning through the air in a weird kind of slow motion and seemed to be almost hang in the air, majestic and serene, until it finally plunged into a group of 3rd or 4th years.

They were soaked. We walked round the bike shed as if nothing had happened, pointed, laughed like feck and blamed some other group.

Oh, forgot to mention we'd added sugar and coffee to the water. Very sticky mixture when combined with a little bit of johnny lube.

Kids are evil. Even supposedly mature prefects- worst of all!

Length? At least 20', longer when airborne.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 21:19, 2 replies)

Stockings
First ever, in the flesh experience. 5th year (old numbering system). I just happened to tap the bum of the school head prefect (girl!) On the way up the stairs. In the nanosecond in which I was in contact, I knew she was wearing the kit.

Did me in for weeks and certainly changed my perspective of her.
(Suck it and Sea, Fri 30 Jan 2009, 20:14, 5 replies)