Rugger Buggers
.
In my final year at school the headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, decided to have a teachers vs pupils rugby match. It wasn't his best decision.

The pupils side would be picked by the rugby captain and the teachers side by the head. Even though I didn't play rugby, I just *had* to be on the team so I bribed the captain and got a place. Coincidentally, so did a lot of the other hard-nuts in the school. This was payback time for all of the canings, beatings and humiliations the teachers had inflicted on me over the years.

The game started off tamely - for about three minutes - until one hard nut grabbed the geography teachers balls in the scrum and twisted them. After that it wasn't a rugby match any more it was more like a mass brawl with a rugby ball often bouncing along the ground ignored by most of the players.

My finest moment was clothes-lining Dixon, my hated biology teacher.

The match was eventually abandoned when one of my team was stretchered off with a broken leg. It was actually an accidental injury caused when the scrum collapsed due to the amount of kicking, uppercuts and ball twisting.

I ended up with a bloody nose (headbutted in the scrum by the music teacher) and a split lip (copped it in the face when one of my lot tried to smack Dixon and he ducked).

Ah happy days.....

Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 23:27, 2 replies)

Oh, and another one. Chemistry teacher.
We used to use mouth pipettes for everything. No sophisticated rubber-bulb health and safety rubbish for us. If you get a mouthful of conc. NaOH it's your own fault. (It tastes fizzy, by the way, as your taste buds spit their last dying impulses.)

Anyway, one day we were mouth-pipetting oxalic acid solution. "Don't get this in your mouth, boys," he says, "really." And then, while 20 of us are sucking this stuff up, proceeds to read the rather horrific symptoms of oxalic acid poisoning from the Merck handbook.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 21:11, 3 replies)

They didn't see it coming...
OK, same school, stuffed with jumped up tyrants of teachers. For one lesson, just before Christmas, me and my classmates were in a classroom right down at one end of the school.

The rules were these - you had to sit quietly and wait, all but for the form captain, who stood at the front and wrote the names of anyone misbehaving on the board. No-one else was allowed to write on the board.

Cue one of the class thickos (spoilt for choice there, I think) deciding to draw a Christmas card on the board for the teacher. So off he went to the board, took the chalk off the form captain, and set to drawing. Several of his thicky friends joined in, and together they produced a total and utter mess. Then, they went from stupidness to utter dumbassery. They signed their names all over it. Me? I was new, small, scrawny and unpopular, so I stayed put.

As they finished, the teacher arrived. He stamped in, and glared at the covered board. "Who is responsible for this?" he shouted. Every eye swivelled to the form captain, standing quietly to one side of the board. He smiled the world's largest grin. This must have been the best moment of his life. "Sir," he said, "you will find their names on the board."

There was one of those moments when you hear people's brains catching on. It was all I could do not to laugh. I think the teacher probably twigged that they'd done this to themselves.

"Well done, boy" he said to the form captain.

They got a boatload of extra work to do over the Christmas holiday. The few of us who'd had more sense than to write on the board got off scot free.

Nice.
(purplegod counting down for Christmas!, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 21:08, Reply)

My PE teacher
Had a saying reserved, apparently, only for me.

"Come on Amish," he would bawl cheerily, "It's only pain. It won't hurt you."

Ho ho.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 21:04, Reply)

Like many schools
we had a guy who used to shit on desks, on the floor etc. But it wasn't his fault. He had Ass-Purger's Syndrome.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 19:26, 3 replies)

Isolation
My school had a system of pushiments which increased in severity the more of a shit you were.

I'd been throught the detentions, letters home and after-school detentions by late in Year 10. I was a bit of a shit, but by no means the gargantuan turds some of my year were.

Most of my punishments were deserved, but when I first got put in isolation I felt a bit hard done-by. This meant you spent two days doing fuck all in a dusty room filled with thousands upon thousands of shoe boxes. For some reason.

I ended up in Shoe Box Hell because:

I was the bass player in a band who performed 'Heart Shaped Box' for our year assembly. Some massive nobber told our Head of Year it was about vaginas. Cue her going mental and me getting dusty for two days.
(pharmatron Death or Scunthorpe? CHOOSE!!, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 19:26, Reply)

Primary school...
... was just a journey of learning. Two incidents stick in my mind.
First was when I got my first glimpse of a girls rude parts (one of the more "liberal" girls was flashing under her desk and letting us all have a look. We were 7), the second was almost having a hernia laughing when one of the other boys in the class shat himself copiously and noisily as we were waiting to go out for PE.
Good times.
(animal252 last activated his kitten hammer on, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 18:40, Reply)

The two weeks leading up to end of term...
The Latin teacher must have either run out of material or motivation as all we did was watch Jason and the Argonauts.
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 18:27, Reply)

My penis.
One of the more inexplicable urban legends* that came up during year 11 was that I had an enormous knob, giving me an unwieldy nickname "the man with the 40-foot golden schlong." And often while changing for PE, someone (usually one particular lad) would start a chant, "Woody's got a BONer! Woody's got a BONer! Woody's got a BONer!" - starting quietly, then rising in volume till everyone was shouting it. I thought it was hilarious; the teacher was usually baffled or mildly concerned.

* It wasn't a private school, so this legend was pure speculation on their part. It's not like I ever whipped it out in the playground and started swinging it around like a helicopter.
( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 18:06, Reply)

A Tale Of Two Shitties....
...Anyone from a certain school for Boys in Bath may remember Mr Ellis. He caught two boys recreating the scene from Alien where they bang a knife between the gaps in a hand's worth of spread fingers. For some reason, this made him snap, he grabbed the knife and with a cry "I'll show you how to do that properly!", he deliberately slammed the knife into the back of the boy's hand pinning it to the desk. He was escorted from the premises suffering from "Stress"

T'other concerns a jumped up bullying lunatic called Mr Dickinson, who took a deep dislike to me for some reason, probably because I actually wanted to learn something, rather than hear endless stories about "The Army". At one point he informed me that he could kill me with a Bic pen, if he so desired, whilst twirling said Weapon of Maths Destruction meaningfully. Much later I found out that he had indeed served for King and Country. As a quartermaster.
(Mousy Tongue ...Generally bemused by life..., Sat 31 Jan 2009, 17:09, 1 reply)

i was a bit of a wet blanket as a kid
wasn't allowed to socialise much (pushy overprotective but well meanin 'rents) so i wasn't too good at dealing with bullies etc. as a result i moved schools a few times. there was a short period where i was trialling several schools. one of these was a Steiner school. (google it)
i was a bright kid, and actually quite liked learning.
on the first day, we basically sat there drawing. one kid was furiously suckin down wax crayons, i bet he left the most interesting skids on the pan! anyways. one other kid was hellbent on completing a thousanmd high-speed, screaming laps of the room. a third kid was a bit.. rapey? kept trying to hug everyone, then getting too intense, being pulled off by his minder, then repeat.
a bit odd, but they had GREAT art materials and i was in hog heaven for a while

day two- went to beach. crayon-munching kid moves on to pebbles. high-speed lap kid seems fazed by open space, keeps starting to run, then realising he's left the group and swooping back in making aeroplane noises.
rapey kid is bothering people's dogs.

day three: rainy day. high-speed kid knocks over crayon kid's pencilcase, kid flips the fuck out, rapey kid gets involved. still no sign of any kind of lesson.

day 4: day one again. rapey kid seems hellbent on winning young molester of the year award. still not so much as a sniff of a sum or science question.

day 5: visit the local country park. rapey kid seems to be heavily medicated, and has transmogrified into vacant creepy smile boy. crayon kid is eating things off floor. high speeed kid is on some kind of leash as we're near lakes.


that very weekend, i told my parents in no uncertain terms that i wanted a normal school with normal kids and to actually learn something.
(UppityDamnPrimate LET'S OPEN THIS F*CKING PIT UP, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 17:08, 1 reply)

Johnny bombs
If you don't already know, you make a johnny bomb by putting a condom over the end of a can of deodorant, spraying it full so it blows-up like a balloon, tying it off, spraying the outside with a little more spray and lighting it. Within a couple of seconds you get a wonderfully satisfying *THWUMP*, a lack of eyebrows and lots of astounded Year 8's.

If you happen to do it round the back of the science block, in full view of the Deputy Head covering a science class, you get a less-than-satisfying week of after-school detentions.
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 16:59, 1 reply)

A huge thanks to my headmistress
Back in the 1970's

My village primary school was run by a great old fashioned headmistress. She was not old fashioned in that she believed in corporal punishment, but old fashioned in that she believed in education.

None of us brats appreciated the care that she took in teaching us. We just saw her as the enemy.


In my case I saw her as a problem because she wouldn't allow me to do what I wanted. I never considered her as a human being. I saw her as a problem. So in my amoral way, I thought a problem should be removed and that removal of this problem would involve killing her. Logical really.


I decided to fix the brakes and tyres on her car to induce fatal car crash. Due to being 10 years old, having a complete lack of knowledge of car mechanics and also being spotted by a cleaning lady, the murderous attempt completely failed.

The cleaning lady informed the headmistress.

Now this is where the headmistress showed her true colours. She did not go to the police or the authorities about my psychopathic tendancies, instead she privately talked to my parents and brought in a child psychotherapist to talk to me.

As a result the reason behind my behavioural problems were spotted (We call it aspergers now), and she took it upon herself to help me through it as best as possible. She did a damned fine job of it as well.

So instead of being taken from my parents, locked up in a home and having my life totally destroyed before the age of 12, I was given a chance to make good and have sinced gained a PhD and a pretty good life.

It was years before I appreciated just what she did for me.

Here's to my headmistress, Mrs Sage. May God rest her soul
(DrTeeth, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 16:38, 4 replies)

The worst behaved top maths set.
In Years 10 and 11 our Maths teacher was relatively new to the job, and basically looked like a 6th former. He found it hard to balance getting on and acting cool with the students, and making us actually do any work.
He was a pushover.

Being the top set people found it all a bit too easy, so took the opportunity to fuck about as much as possible.

A few things we did:
1) Mark hid in the cupboard at the back of the class, and waited, and waited, and waited and jumped out when teacher went for some textbooks. Got sent to the Key Stage manager for that one.

2)Sellotaped Mark face down to a table at the back of the class. He let people do it, but for some reason he was in trouble when the teacher came in, as if he could have done it to himself.

3)Teacher left the computer projector hooked up whilst helping some girls with their coursework. Cue Greg and Mark using the Omnigraph software, and their incredible geekery, to create a huge, whiteboard sized penis on the graph.

4)Used Pritt Stick all over the door handle, then told the teacher someone had just ran out, when they were hiding under their desk. Teacher gets a PrittSticky hand.

5)Mexican waves, and general chanting, particularly when the old bat of the department is nearby, knowing she'll bollock him for failing to control us.

He got suspended for calling a Year 8 a 'Ginger Twat', then left and became a private tutor instead.
Oh, and told us about shagging some bird twice his age when really lashed to dispel accusations of being a virgin. Weirdo.
(Freeman999, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 16:08, Reply)

Been wondering if I should post
As it's not too long since I finished school, and at least one person who went there with me reads B3ta (and knows who I am - hi Alex), but then I decided that I don't actually care.



Maths teacher for the first half of year 12. Went on leave for "personal reasons". Turned out he was thrown in prison for a year for sex offences.

Year 11. Some of the girls decided to make a semi-porn site, showing pictures of their 15 year old tits. It was called, as I recall, "www.GiveYourselfATreat.tk".

The guy who got caught laughing at child porn on his phone. He was actually caught when he showed it to one of the science teachers. The teacher said "Yeah... I'm going to have to report you for that".

We too had a phantom shitter - this seems to be a common theme around here. Never caught, despite many attempts.

We used to have naughty people sent in to our 6th for biology lessons. If we were dissecting, the challenge was to see how many bits of animal we could coat them with. Teacher never "saw" any of this. He also had an occasional lisp, so the game "who can mock him the most for it" came about. This consisted of picking up on the lisped word and asking him to repeat it. To be fair he took it quite well, and we did pay attention.

Another maths teacher, dubbed "The Badger-pigeon" because of his Alistair Darling eyebrows and habit of bobbing his head as he walked. He also had the most nasal voice known to man.

The year 10 maths flashing competition. Said Badger-pigeon would often leave the room for long periods. Several of the more attractive girls would then have flashing and lesbianism competitions (licking nipples etc). This stopped when he came back in early one day.

The mad science teachers. First, Mr Birmingham (not his name, but anyone who knew him knows who I mean). He once decided to show a class how dangerous the gas taps were. He got everyone out of the room, turned all the taps on, waited 5 minutes and flicked a match in. The subsequent blast blew out three windows. Not sure how he got away with that one.

The same guy also once found people boiling up hydrochloric acid with their heads stuck over the beaker. "Lads, lads, lads", he said. "You're using the wrong beaker".

The physics teachers. One was massive and had no concept of personal space, as well as a brian blessed voice. Used to be a sailing instructor, and once sailed solo across the Indian ocean. Great guy. Favourite phrase "and stuff". Known for leaving pauses just before the end of phrases as though we should fill them in. All very well in class, but a typical phrase from this man would be "Hello! Nice day......today".

The other teacher. He might actually read B3ta, so I have to be careful here... Former formula ford and superbike racer, kendo expert, kickboxer and total lunatic. Best teacher I've ever had. Used to wander around the room juggling during tests.

The Environmental science teacher. Trombonist in a successful punk band and fanatical cyclist. Had a huge old van he was converting to run on chip fat. He'd spent 6 years "about" to do it, so god knows when he'll finish.

The electronics teachers. One was an insane, shouty Australian with a habit of carrying a fairy wand around and belting you over the head with it when you weren't working. Once gave someone detention every day for 7 weeks because he spilled ink on the register.

The other one was a semi-professional musician who made all his own instruments. Use to wear a pink fluffy labcoat. Favourite phrase "GOD! It's like teaching a bunch of fucking zombies in here! Nurrrrrrrrrrrrr..." (does zombie impression).

The physics teacher who moved schools. Introduced me to the wonders of making explosives in many and varied forms. When we couldn't get one to go off once, his solution was to jump up and down on it. It went off then alright.

The head of music. To this day, absolutely THE scariest person I've ever met. Only about 4'8", but my god... You didn't cross her. Ever. Even the headmaster was scared of her.

The crazy, menopausal biology teacher. Happy and giggling one minute, next screaming at you until she turned purple. She stopped that (for me) after a lesson on trapping where I demonstrated an unhealthy level of knowledge on how to use all the examples she brought along, including the mantrap. Yes, she owned a genuine mantrap.

The male deputy head. Looked like a preying mantis, walked like a cat. Many a time I saw him sneak up on someone playing computer games in the library. He wouldn't say anything - just stand there until they realised. I used to laugh my head off until it happened to me.

The head of 6th form. Former rugby player, and he looked it. Huge, broken nose etc. Would defend his students to the death and didn't care what we did as long as we got the work done. Organised a huge booze cruise on a riverboat for us shortly after term ended. On the last day he spotted about 50 of us heading for the pub rather than attend the deathly boring assembly. The exchange went something like this:

"Oi! You lot!".

"Er, yes?".

"Where do you think you're going?".

"Er... The pub?".





"Well hurry up then".

Legend.



I could go on with more stories (such as my 18th birthday, when I went down the pub at lunchtime with friends and returned in the afternoon, reeking of vodka and walking on the squint), but this is quite long enough.
( MatJ LOOK, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 16:07, Reply)

GCSE Spanish
Twas the summer of Year 11, and GCSEs were rapidly approaching, but not before the dreaded Oral exams for French and Spanish.

The exam was split into 'Conversation' and 'Roleplay'. Conversation was based on several possible topics (Food & Drink, Holidays etc.), us students picking one topic. The other topic was meant to be a secret, as the exam board prescribed two potential topics for each student, and then the teacher was meant to pick one of those. However, if we picked one of the two from the board, we were guaranteed the other one as well, thus only have to learn two topics...

Roleplay we received 15 minutes before the exam, and could make notes, which were meant to be taken off us before the exam started. Instead, my teacher corrected my notes and handed them back to me.

I got an A in Spanish!
(Freeman999, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 15:50, Reply)

Mr Smith
Mr Smith was a brilliant man, still is, in fact. He has a stupidly high IQ and was an all round decent bloke, one year going so far as to learning Arabic to GCSE level just because a student in his German class wanted to take it and the Head of Languages had said no.

However, Mr Smith, who is still teaching, wasn't all there when it came to understanding the minds of teenage boys. This is a shame because he teaches at an all boys school. He is loved by many for his intriguing style of German delivery but it is his slip-ups that make him a good anecdotal reference for this QOTW.

His first wonderful slip-up was when he voted himself off a charity school-run version of the Weakest Link. He didn't understand the rules and had never watched it before.

Another moment of brilliance was when he was insulted by a year 8 in his classroom. Nobody else had heard what he had said but all were wondering. No worries, Mr Smith soon answered their queries by booming at the lad in a loud voice, "Never! In all my life as a teacher, have I been so insulted to have been called a bald twat by a thirteen year old boy!" Oh how they laughed.

Finally, Mr Smith rides a bike to school everyday and was taking questions in jovial spirit from his class that day. The conversation veered to his mode of transport like so:

"It's a nice bike you've got, Sir."

"Yes, it is nice isn't it, shame about the white paint mark on it though."

"Sure it isn't some other white liquid that caused that, Sir?"

Laughter ensues, Mr Smith doesn't quite understand the teenage male mind:

"...Tippex?"
(Foz, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 15:23, 1 reply)

Maths
Looking back, we were a bunch of bastards, but at the time it just seemed like a bit of fun.

A new maths teacher came to the school, and with impeccable recommendations she was given the A-set to teach, us.

Unfortunately, not only was she 4' tall and had a moustache, but she was also deaf. To overcome this she would often lip read rather than use her hearing aid.

Once we worked this out, we would cover our mouths with our hands or books while talking so she couldn't work out what we were saying. As the hearing aid was turned up to 11, so would we, a class of 14 year olds shouting, combined with the maximum setting on a hearing aid. Well you can work out what happened.

Also, she once tried to stop my friend Charles from going to the toliet, as he was feeling sick, but she thought he was just trying to skive.

Now Charles was then about 6' tall, and is a lot taller now, so she tried to stand in front of the door to stop him leaving. Remember she was about 2' shorter than him.

Charles couldn't hold the vomit in, and it was projected downwards, all over her. Purely by accident.

He was sent to the Deputy Head for a telling off, who instead found it quite a hilarious tale and sent him back to class, which had been dismissed due to a lack of teacher.
( mister.f is now married, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 15:11, Reply)

The Bod
Mr Bodzanovitch, or Mr Bod to most, was a legend in our school, and to an extent, the surrounding schools, as the stories spread. He got in the paper once for throwing a party to celebrate Princess Diana's death. He built his own mini-cannon and blew the shit out of a public toilet.
He taught physics, and liked to play with electricity. Here are some of his exploits.

He once knocked out the electricity of the whole science block by showing us why you shouldn't dip a plug in water, plug it in and switch it on.

He 'solved' the wasp problem around the maths block by climbing up a ladder to where the nest was on the side of the building, and twatted it with a stick! We literally fell to the floor watching him slide down a ladder and run, followed by easily 100 wasps.

He had 8 cars, all of which I am convinced are not road legal, as they were falling apart, and the newest is about 60 years old. One has a mattress in the back, one has a toilet.

He hated me (i know all kids are convinced a teacher hates them, but he really did) and once announced I had a detention for not handing in some coursework, despite the fact I had done it. I did the detention, and printed off another copy.
The next week, the same thing happened, and did so, for 3 more weeks, until I gave him a signed witness form from the whole class, and a photo taken the week beforehand of me handing it to him.

Without a doubt, the best story. Mr Bod was an egg. He wasn't just fat, he was literally an egg.
He was showing us electromagnetism, and attached a pole to the ceiling using electromagnetic plates. He demonstrated the strength of it by getting some of us to do pull-ups on the pole. We convinced him to do it, and of course, they instantly separated and he crashed to the floor. Now, for those who remember, in science rooms, because of the gas taps, all the desks are really long, and nailed down so u don't break the pipes or anything. He fell between the desks, and because of his epic proportions, he didn't have enough space to roll over and get up.
He was like an upturned tortoise. Of course, we did the sensible thing, and all left. Apparantly it took him about an hour of yelling to get help.
(bobman500 enjoys a grope as much as the next fella, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 14:41, Reply)

mrs. can't cope
we had a teacher called mrs. cope, who couldn't. within the first ten minutes of every lesson, she would be sobbing. we were vicious little bastards, so we decided to make a competition of it and see who could make her cry the fastest. my sister won, after being told she couldn't go to the toilet 2 minutes into the lesson and threatening to piss on mrs. cope's new shoes. this is the same sister that robbed the school bank on her last day.

well, it was funny at the time.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 13:47, Reply)

Raiding
Easter 2003 and we moved out of our old, mouldering school buildings into a new shiny one*. The last week of that term we were determined to take home as many 'mementos' of the old school as we could; notices, door handles, bunsen burners...
I remember taking home the 'T' and the 'E' from 'Welcome to the Drama Theatre' as well as a fire exit sign (?)
A boy from my maths class took home the highly-prized plaque that read 'T1', T1 being the room where you were went for a good bollocking if you'd been sent out of lesson.
The best one was someone going home with a 4'x 3' mirror from the Gladwin girl's loo.

* When we moved in, we hated it. It was too small for 1,800 pupils + 200 staff and looked like a pastel-painted prison.

EDIT: People actually took in screwdrivers to facilitate the raiding
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 12:56, Reply)

My mate Joe...
done a wank at the back of Modern Studies once. I'm unsure if it was a particularly sexy lesson or a protest/statement on the subject.
(brycemonkey No fatal accidents since:, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 11:37, 3 replies)

The Credit Crunch means that...
...I can only afford to answer the QOTW when it's a week out of date.
(whyamihere, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 11:36, Reply)

We had a drama teacher called Mrs Willoughby...
...and at the end of our first lesson she asked us all to curl up into little balls on the ground, to which I thought, "Oh, it'll be that growing into a tree thing.".

Then, while still curled up, the 4pm bell went and she said we could leave. I asked her what it was about on the way out and she said, "I just wanted to see how stupid you all looked.".

She was a great teacher.
(DrDerekDoctors, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 11:26, 2 replies)

i went to an all-girls private (public for brits) school
and there are no really hilarious moments. more just vicious bitching for 6 years. and pregnancy scares by the time you hit year 10, and they get boring fast.
anyway.
thankfully my lovely boy mates have more amusing stories. their favourite is their classmate J bringing in a giant comedy bong, and smoking it through his backpack in the middle of science.
the smoky haze in the back of the classroom, as well as the loud bubbling meant he was quickly discovered.
(charlottebronte stalking through the moors, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 11:09, Reply)

Suspended
My secondary school had a dickhead headteacher, who introduced loads of stupid rules.

I got suspended three times in my first year.
Two times were for getting pissed and stealing...understandable.

The first time was for pulling someone's tie. It wasn't even that hard, but he started crying.
(Maxx. SAY NO TO PUBIC HARIS, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 10:51, 2 replies)

Art trip to London
Obviously art classes were for kids who were either wasters, thick, or gay, since it was an easy subject, where homework consisted of spending 2 minutes drawing a picture on the morning bus, and the lessons consisted of flicking paint and drawing small cocks on each others masterpieces.

However one year, the art teachers in their wisdom, decided that it would be a benefit to see some real paintings at one of the London galleries to inspire us to great artistic achievements.

So after a 2 hour coach trip, where we listened to a variety of mix tapes that people had brought in (I think we managed to get a bit of NWA played before the swearing started), we were dropped off at the entrance of the gallery, given a sheet to fill out, a lunch pack, and told to meet back at 3pm by the coach.

Did we look at the paintings on display and fill out our sheets? Did we fuck. Straight out the back door for some adventures in the big smoke. I went off with some of my mates for a bit of shoplifting in Hamleys and Tower Records, afterwards meeting up with some of the other lads who'd gone to Soho to see some peep shows, where we went around the local sex shops checking out the merchandise.

We all coughed up enough cash to buy one of the special £10 mags in the brown wrappers, which consisted of bad colour shots of ropey looking men and women getting up to all sorts where towards the end it suddenly took a sideways direction into tv porn. I think the mag lasted about an hour being thrown around the back of the coach, before it got ripped up, and then all the pages disappearing.

I don't think the teachers ever realised what everyone got up to, but I would imagine they would have been surprised to hear that we all went home with a bit of art (pamphlet).
( flapmeister knows where your mum lives, Sat 31 Jan 2009, 10:37, 1 reply)

I don't think I can do this story justice... but I'll try anyway
As I sit here laughing my fat arse off at how funny this was at the time, I just know you won't get it.

Like most schools, they separated us into smart and dumb. They split us up into alphas and betas... I kid you not, it was all very Brave New World.

Anyway, at some point in the last two years of school they let the betas come study with us (the smart kids) for certain subjects where they could keep up...

One being Art the other being home economics... you know, practical skills because the beta's could be quite good at those sometimes...

Anyway - we had art, two classes all mixed with the boffins and the cool kids, but they only had one teacher as ours had had some sort of emotional breakdown and not bothered to show up.

The classes were joined by a small corridor with store cupboards on either side, so they let the wettest, most elderly little old lady art teacher watch us both.

She concentrated mainly on her own class and left us to it, which looking back was probably a fairly basic school boy error.

We have a paint, paste and clay fight of epic proportions. Shit flew everywhere, everyone had the giggles and nobody was prepared to declare a ceasefire under any circumstances... the floors and walls were covered in all sorts.

We heard the door go to the other room so we all chilled for a second or two and pretended that everything was completely normal, as this little old lady wandered through to survey the carnage.

Only, she didnt get that far, as she slipped and fell backwards on a massive puddle of paste and landed with a thud in the rest of the crap. This was funny in itself but then she tried to get up.

She looked like a little new born deer trying to stand for the first time on ice. It was excellent. Her little frail old lady legs that were pretty doddery at the best of times were now slipping all over the place.

Eventually, with absolutely no help at all from any of us, she managed to get a grasp of a drawer top and dragged herself upright -still skidding and slipping all over.

At this point we thought we were dead. It was obvious what had been going on, and suddenly the rooms atomosphere changed from a group of 30 odd kids trying to stiffle so many giggles that their stomachs hurt to prisoners of war realising that their time is up.

But then, a miracle happened. "Ooh" she said "thats a bit dangerous" and slipping and sliding a little she walked back into her own room and didnt come back.

I nearly wet myself for the second time at school that day (the first being my first day at a new primary school, where that bitch Mrs Seeter wouldnt let me go to the loo), and it really was my lasting memory of a time in my live that for the most part, Id rather forget.

I wish I could remember her name... and I wish I could do the story the justice it deserves.

It really was one of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life.
(Kaplaaah Wasting time on the net since 1994., Sat 31 Jan 2009, 10:09, Reply)