Damned strange school I went to...
It was a bog standard comprehensive with delusions of grandeur (currently I believe it is some kind of specialist maths/computing college, which is a laugh as the IT department are apalling!) However one thing they were above par in was odd pranks, japes and downright junior terrorism.

The head of music was a sweet lady, mad as a bag of ferrets, welsh and about four foot nothing. She was immensely trusting, poor soul. This unfortunately led to her being locked in the walk in keyboard cupboard every day for an entire term. Eventually she got canny and started taking a kid in with her as a kind of hostage. However she unerringly managed to pick the teacher's pet, whom of course, nobody else in the class gave a flying fuck about, so they locked her in anyway!

Poor woman eventually had a kind of nervous breakdown apparently.


There were of course, the usual last day of sixth form pranks. The large dead fish hurled into the Year 11 leavers assembly was one that stuck out. It smacked the Headmaster in the face! Two lads got expelled for that. One wonders why the teachers bothered, it being their last day and all...
(Celebgil, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:10, 2 replies)

It's always the quiet ones...
Generally my schooling was fairly dull, but one event stands out in my mind. As with most small town secondary schools, it had its fair share of 'wellard' teenage boys who thought the answer to lifes problems was to hit them in the face for looking at them funny. Most of them had ambitions of being in the Navy so they would "get to go and kill people". A finer credit to the nation you would never find.

One of these, who we shall call Sam, was a particular fuck-pouch whose exploits included smoking grass (of the turf variety) on the summer camp and instigating verbal hate campaigns against various other pupils - especially a shy, rather dim, rather unattractive Irish lad called Lee.

Cut forward four years into this tirade of non-stop abuse, and we're all sitting in a German lesson, waiting for the teacher to arrive, looking up rude words in another language or simply staring out the windows when out of nowhere, Lee errupted in a flurry of seething, bitter fury, launching himself across the desks towards the menacing half-wit Sam.

By the time the teacher arrived, Sam was running around the room shouting "NO LEE! NO! PLEASE STOP! I'M SORRY!!!" as huge clubbed fist after huge clubbed fist rained vengeance upon his thick skull. Not once person thought to stop this, enjoying the camp squealing and abject terror far too much to interfere.

Nice one Lee.
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:05, Reply)

I feel so embarrassed
I've never done this before, but I think it's time to repeat an story I've already told you (peaosomething, Word doesn't recognize it, is it real?)

Anyway, here it goes:

I have a few answers for this QOTW, but I’m too shy for this. Some of them involve being caught when having sex. Some of them vomiting in inappropriate places. However, the most embarrassing moment of my live happened when I was only 7 years old.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I was at school, wearing my school uniform. To this day I still can’t understand why my mother would insist on my wearing these very thick wool tights when the coldest temperature was 16degC. But there I was. My belly was feeling funny, so I tried the toilet, but it didn’t work. So back to the playground. I had a very vivid imagination (still have) and I liked being on my own. I think I would have been diagnosed with Autism if it wasn’t because my friends would drag me out of myself so I invented games for them.

So there I was, thinking my things outside the toilet. My belly feeling funny. And I farted. Just a little tiny fart, you know. Kid’s fart. And stay there, outside the toilet, thinking my things (I can see myself right now, with my face of “wonderland”). Then one of my friends called me to play, and I went.

While I was walking, I felt something strange under my pants. Mmmm… I touched and… OMG!!! How could that happened!! How could that be!! It couldn’t be true!!! All of a sudden, I had grown a little bunny’s tail!!!

My friend called me again and I forgot about it.

Lunch time passed; afternoon lessons too; and I went home, thinking, while walking, on my little bunny’s tail. Until it was bath time and my mother started undressing me. Suddenly she shouted “Abe!! What’s that!! You did a poo on your pants!!!”
“Really?” Said I with relief “I thought I had grown a little bunny’s tail!”

I didn’t understand my mother’s laugh; but slowly, very slowly, I started to realize what I had done. It took me time, but for days, weeks, months… what the hell! Still nowadays friends and family come and ask me for my little bunny’s tail. I’m 28. It stopped being funny the same day that it happened.

I’ve done things that would be embarrassing for a lot of people, but this one, by far, is the worst for me.

I can’t believe I’ve told you all about it.
(Aberracion Life's getting very complicated, but a lot of fun., Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:04, 4 replies)

Human Caterpillar
It was a quiet day in the sixth form common room so we thought we'd form a human caterpillar - you know, one crouches, the one in front puts his feet on the other's shoulders and so on (jesus, we must have been really bored). Anyway, Phil starts it by getting on his hands and knees ready for the next person. None of us think to inform him that the headmaster has just entered the room, accompanied by three stuffy-looking governors or parents or whatever, midway through a guided tour of the school.

They all stand over Phil who is still crouched, arse sticking in the air.

Blissfully unaware he implores loudly,

"Come on you cunts, get on!"
(Haywood Manley, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:02, 2 replies)

Teachers Bad Habits
"Ms A" was a newly-qualified teacher, and was still at the stage that she thought she was young and hip and 'down with the kids'.

Unfortunately, she was a rather large lady, and would waddle around the school, dressed in low cut tops and tell stories about how ratarsed she'd got the night before.

A small group of admirers soon formed, who would follow her every move, listen intently to her stories of her hip young lifestyle and stare constantly at her rather large assets.

The rest of us could see she was nothing but a lonely, desperate attention seeker, who made up these stories and would use her tits to get anything she wanted... fed up with not being taught anything other than the correct way to mix drinks (in a maths lesson), some of us decided to act:

• We stuck a very convincing "Wide Load" warning sticker, printed in the computer room to the back of her car.
• Hacked her email account and registered her on every dodgy dating/swinging/fetish site we could find.
• Printed fake business cards, advertising her services as a madam.
• Used one kid's police connections (his dad was a copper) to obtain and doctor a wanted poster, seeking information on the whereabouts of her teaching skills & qualifications.

I think we all realised we'd gone too far when badly photoshopped (produced using Corel Paint 4!) porn pics, complete with captions started to appear posted around school. A daring commando raid was undertaken to post one up in the staffroom.

Ultimatly it wasn't any of our small scale annoyances that got her - it was when the headteacher discovered she was shagging one of the sixth form. And another member of staff. In school hours. In her supply cupboard.

Classy.
(caveman_dave, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:01, 1 reply)

School, I hated the place!
I move to London from Scotland when I was ten, just in time to start secondary school. It was great for the first little while until it became known by the whole year that I was Scottish.

I was immediately given the nickname of Jock, original don’t you think?

This followed me throughout the entire seven years I was there, it got to the point that even the teachers called me jock as well!
(Herr Doktor Lemminge Is bored, so cheer me up!, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 14:01, 3 replies)

Repost
www.b3ta.com/questions/dumbthings/post109370

Brief recap: CDT teacher gives us a 20 min lecture on why we shouldn;t hamemr nails into the table as peopel can hurt themselves on them. He ends the lecture by putting his hands on the desk and ripping on of his palms open on the nail he was using to demonstrate his point.

Oh how we laughed.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:59, Reply)

Mr Rannie french teacher
rumour was someone had once hidden a dog in his cupboard and he had shat himself when he found it , game was seeing how loud you could woof in class without getting caught , he used to go fucking mental , this back in the day when teachers were allowed to hit children with toughened leather belts , terrified and pissing yourself with laughter going woof woof while he beat your friends , can't speak fuck all french to this day
(happyjoy last changed sig on, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:58, 2 replies)

Playing the flesh trombone...
My friend's mum was a music teacher at our school. Next to her classroom there were three of those little sound-proofed practice rooms.

Inevitably, she used to catch loads of little tykes getting off in there, and a fair few going further - sometimes solo.

She became a bit blase about it and would just tell them to pull their pants up and then go and wait outside the classroom until she was ready to deal with them.

She was still a bit non-plussed, though, when one kid said 'Yeah, when I'm finished Miss'.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:56, 1 reply)

Creepy Biology Teacher
He really was dodgy. He was a creepy, sleazy type who thought he was a bit of a ladies man but clearly was quite repulsive. This was proved when he sent a note to a new female teacher.

It was written on a slip of paper which he'd taken from one of his classes and had a diagram of the reproductive system on it. In spidery biro, it said 'Hey - good to meet you earlier, would love to get to know you better - if you know what I mean. Fancy it? Let me know, XX Neil'

How do I know what it said in so much detail? After the whole class had watched her piss herself laughing at the note, then call the teachers in from the nearby classrooms to laugh at it, before hiding it away in a drawer, we naturally saw fit to retrieve it.

Discovering the contents, we went to the library at lunchtime, ran off a load of photocopies, and stuck them up all over school.

The only person who owned up to this (he didn't have much choice - he'd been spotted using the photocopier by the librarian) got a bollocking from the headmaster, which was cut short when he too cracked up and laughed himself silly.
(SnowyTheWereRabbit the Leporid from Hell, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:52, Reply)

First Post - Be gentle with me.
Back in the mid seventies when i was much smaller (about a quarter of my current age)
and in the first year at senior school (none of this year 7 crap then)i was sat in science. There were 2 science labs in back to back terrapins (the most permanent temporary buildings ever.
One day whilst bored me and another lad decided to make a chain out of paper clips.
I thought it would make the electric socket in front of me look rather fetching if it was inserted.
Picture a paper clip chain running from the live hole to the neutral hole in a kind of horseshoe shape.
A quick flick of the switch and hey presto!! a bright flash,a welded paper clip chain and darkness!!
Teacher runs in from next door to see what had happened.
Me and other the lad sent to headmasters office for a good slippering!
Whilst waiting outside, the editor of the school magazine came passed and asked us why we were there. When we told him what we had done he said "Why not write about it for the school magazine"
"Why not go f**k yourself" we both said rather loudly* and then went in to get our punishment.

*It sounded loud in our heads anyway.

Phew. apologies for length but it is a first post.
(betty swollocks, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:50, Reply)

James Grimsey's Geography Fart
James Grimsey was the noisy, articulate lad with rich parents who tried a tad too hard to be one of the cool kids.

You know the type, every now and again they'd go just a little bit too far in trying to impress their peers and would end up in heaps of trouble.

I recall how one year he bought "Smelly Reid", our hygienically challenged form tutor a can of Right Guard for christmas.

He was also suspected of being behind the infamous "johnnygate" incident that had Mr Hockridge screaming in rage demanding that the owner of a flying contraceptive step forward.

The incident that is forever burned in my mind was the raucous kerfuffle I was an audible witness to, despite being in the next classrom to him at the time. Indeed, his singluar feat of swashbuckling bravery is still discussed in hushed, reverential tones by those who were present even today.

Those present at the time speak of how a bored James Grimsey simply leaned back in his chair and uttered the prophetic warning "watch this!" as he leaned forward and grasped the desk, the smile on his face never wavering while he strained as if he were delivering a foal.

Pfffffffff^ffffffffffffffffff_{fffffffffffff}fffffffffFFFFFF^{FFFFFFffffffff}fffft!"

Mr Dawson was cut off mid sentence, his mouth was trying to form words but no sound was coming out, so great was the shock. It was as if the God of Krakatoa himself has rolled over in his sleep and coughed.

For a split second there was silence, followed be peals of laughter and backslapping as James Grimsey smiled the widest of grins and sat proudly in his chair, mission accomplished and knowing his name would forever be taken in infamy.

To James Grimsey himself I can only say this:

You shat yourself didn't you, you dirty bastard?
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:48, 2 replies)

6th Form physics class.
I spent all of my secondary school days wanking and lusting after the girls in my class especially Anne who I still fancy. Sigh....

Anyway, whilst in a 6th form physics class, the teacher was droning on about some theorem or other when all of a sudden he says "fuck me!"
We all woke up at this point as he then described what he saw through the window, he had seen a car hit a traffic island and do an "A-team" roll in the road outside our school. Just hearing teachers swearing was fucking ace.
(urgle-splurgle molesting small goats since, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:45, 2 replies)

Shock Horror...
There was a commotion in school one afternoon - aparently a boy had been raped in the toilets during lunchtime.

For weeks people were telling the story, with various changes in names, locations and severity.

Parents were phoning the school to find out what had happened, some pupils were actually removed by their "worried" parents and sent to different schools.

The next year's new intake of Year 7s was down by 30%, because the locals had heard about the incident, and refused to send their kids to "that school".

Eight years later, the place closes down due to dwindling establishment figures.


The true story is that a kid shat himself in class, ran to the toilets and in a desperate act to prevent being labelled as "That kid who shat himself" for the next 20 years, climbed over the fence and ran home. No-one knows where the rapey rumour came from... but it managed to close the school down.
( HSDriver was probably still at work on, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:41, 1 reply)

My first pearoast
Whilst I think of something else to write...

Our school was in quite a rich area, full of the children of lawyers and doctors, who had moved to the suburbs so they could commute into the city every day. The school grounds used to belong to an old mansion, and the only part of the original building left was an old tower, on two levels, attached to the school by a little bridge on the upper floor. The top level was Mr. Smith's maths classroom, and beneath it was a sandy-floored shelter.

The deer used to come to the round room. They would shelter under it when the weather was bad. I used to go and watch them at lunchtimes when I was going through my manic-depressive stage in third year, and wish I could be a deer, it seemed so much easier than school. Then the fourth years discovered that the walls under the round room served as an excellent hideout for all kinds of forbidden activities.

I remember the time I knelt in some deershit under the round room. It was the day I lost my innocence.

At fifteen, I was the school geek, the sad, lonely one who sat in the corner at lunchtime, nose in a book, whilst the other girls, the cool ones, chattered excitedly about boys. They all had breasts, and wore tight, short skirts, tight like clingfilm around their little hips, and they knew about kissing and what fucking and screwing meant. I was still flat as an ironing board though, known as "Holland" (after a particularly excruciating geography lesson), and had no idea what the other girls were talking about. However, when I hit sweet sixteen, I was flooded with hormones, and I discovered the previously hidden attraction of BOYS. I was besotted with one of the cool kids, one of the unattainable sixth years, with his amazing body, and clear skin, and deep voice. Unfortunately, so was everyone else, so I was left with Andy, the other geek in my year.

He was a tall, lanky, piss-streak of a boy, with greasy ginger curtains for hair, which he continually swept to the side, to get them away from his glasses. His hair was combed into a centre parting, which ha obviously been done using a ruler, so straight it was, and it was as greasy as a chippie floor. He also had the worst acne I have ever seen. A face made of pizza with extra mozzarella, which had been under a grill for too long. Some of his boils had obviously burst when he wasn't squeezing them, and a thick crust had formed over them. His nose, forehead and chin (the infamous T-zone) were like a field of boiling lava, with the constant `put! put!`s of exploding plooks. He also had a large hairy mole, which was continually being threatened with drowning in the pus, on his left cheek. We used to watch it in horrified fascination in classes, waiting for it to make a bid for freedom, but it never did.

My memories of him are full of pus and grease and the metal braces on his rodenty teeth. But it never bothered me, because he was gagging for it, like me, as horny the school orchestras' brass section (which, owing to an enthusiastic brass teacher, was exceptionally well endowed with horns that year). Like a dog with two dicks.

It was at lunchtime that he made his suggestion. It was macaroni cheese for lunch; we were in the school canteen as usual. The macaroni was being dropped onto plates by the clinical-whites clad tyre stacks that were employed solely to put pupils off their food. They all had bristles on their upper lips, evil in their hearts, and stank of sweat and cabbages. The macaroni that day was leaden in weight, and as solid as could be in consistency, like week-old porridge that has been left out in the pan, consolidated crud. It didn't taste much better, either, but we were starving. It was whilst we were eating that Andy put forward his proposal: "So, we gonna do it today, or what?" He wasn't renowned for his romantic tendencies, more for his onanism, but we were both such raging masses of hormones that we would dry hump a fence post, so I took him up on his offer. Of course, I knew this meant a trip beneath the Round Room.

We sat on the hill next to the round room, kissing wetly in the well-pounded grass, indulging in a bit of dry mutual masturbation as we waited for another couple to finish up. As we kissed, his spots were bursting, and when we eventually broke away for air, I could hear the crackling of dried pus breaking its bonds from where it had formed a little bridge between us. Eventually the other couple left, in a blushing post-coital hurry, and we headed into the pit of iniquity together.

Once beneath the high roof of the circular chamber, he unzipped his trousers, and whipped out his little willie. Well, I was shocked. These things should come with warnings - I had never seen anything so ugly before, and remember I had seen his face. It was all red and raw looking down the sides, as if it had been rubbed furiously with sandpaper for weeks (which, in retrospect, I presume it had been), but the top of it was purple and surrounded by a crust of what looked like cottage cheese. And the smell! Did you ever read those reports in the paper of a body being found after six weeks because neighbours complained of the ripe odours emanating from the room? Now combine that smell with ammonia and stale piss. I near boked then and there! However, my teenage hormones overcame the initial repulsion, and I was fascinated - did all boys have one of these? It explained so much! Andy was holding onto his little one-eyed trouser snake with such delicate tenacity, that I wondered if it would fall off and break if anyone else touched it.

He looked up at me then, and said "blow it for me". Well, what's a girl to do? I bent down, and blew gently on his mini-truncheon. "No, not like that, like this!" He told me to kneel down, and I did, putting my knee in a pile of deershit (still warm and squidgy, it seeped through my tights like soft cheese through a sieve), and he put his hands on the back of my head, and forced it towards his middle leg.

Do you remember the smell I told you about? Well it was much worse close up. Accompanied by an equally repellent taste. I couldn't help myself. I vomited. Copiously. Huge great chunks of macaroni cheese and incredibly liquid bile covered his now limp cock and spilt down into his grubby boxers and the trousers, which were crumpled around his knobbly knees. The vomit was almost everywhere on his lower body. There was a small silence before I struggled to my feet and ran away. My last image was of him standing there looking pathetic; white beneath his cheese encrusted face, flicking spew from his fingers and his marshmallowed penis.

Disappointingly, it put me off macaroni for a while.


Apologies for length, or lack of it in his case.
( ascorbate, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:38, 6 replies)

Funny for those around me
At junior school we had assembly every morning. Cue four years of children sat cross-legged on a cold stone floor (or some kind of parquet, I'm not sure).

The rows were arranged in order of age, so the first years were at the front, seconds behind and so on. The time in question I was near the front, so virtually the entire school had a view of this most spectacular of spaz-outs.

I had been sat in rapt attention for the duration and must've not moved. How do I know this? When I stood to leave the hall at the end, some fucker'd stolen one of my legs!

OMGWTF! And also OW!

Yes, dear Sarah had been so engrossed in the drivel that whichever authority figure had been spouting that she lost all feeling in her leg, stood up and fell straight back down again. The sound of approximately 200 children bursting into simultaneous laughter is a distressing noise and I doubt I'll ever forget it.

Length? My miserable limp out of the hall aided by a kindly teacher seemed to last for miles.

Click if you want to hear the stairway stumble.
(Sahara Desert http://www.twitter.com/thesaharadesert for swears, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:36, 4 replies)

We were standing in the playground in a group
just chatting and discussing who we'd like to finger. A quietish lad in our year (who'd always seemed a bit odd in retrospect) pipes up 'hey lads', and we look around.
'hey lads, you know when your mum comes in to your room in the morning...'
there's a couple of quizzical looks and a few nods.
'you know when she comes in, and checks your balls...'
no nods this time, more quizzical looks.
'yeah, you know, she checks your balls to see how they're developing'
quizzical looks turn to blank, staring looks.
Again, 'yeah, you know, she checks your balls to see how they're developing ?' but this time with hand-cupping/weighing action accompanying the question.
He stares back at the now horrified faces and you could almost see the split second where he realises that actually, this isn't very normal behaviour.
Ever-caring to our school friend's obviously abnormal upbringing, we spontaneously burst into laughter, prompting him to run crying from the group.

Good days.
(Redbull_(UK) pfffft, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:33, 6 replies)

The Happiest Days of our Lives
When we grew up and went to school, there were certain teachers who would hurt they children any way they could.

By pouring their derision upon everything we did, exposing every weakness however carefully hidden by the kid.

But in the town it was well known that when they got home at night their fat and psychopathic wives would thrash them within inches of their lives.
( I have run out of coke is a little sweaty, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:32, 7 replies)

School Christmas Fayre
Every school has one of these, usually held about three weeks before the head turns up to work in his brand new Honda Accord. A feature of these events is the booze raffle where perfectly serviceable alcohol is given away on school premises. Our school had the Pomagne guy - on a cut of the profits - turned a blind eye to who visited his stall.

You bought a ticket, the Pomagne guy spun the arrow, and if your number came up you won a bottle of sparkling pear cider goodness.

"Are you eighteen?" he asked, and you replied in the affirmative in your deepest, manliest voice. And there, in your cold, sweaty fourteen-year-old hands would be a bottle of genuine booze, begging to be poured down your neck.

Needless to say, by three in the afternoon, the Christmas Fayre was filled to bursting with posh kids as pissed as little beetles.

It all came to grief as the head – having already won top prize – pulled the ticket for second prize in Ye Grande Christmas Raffle just as Benny Jackett barfed rich, brown, fizzy vomit all over his second best suit and at least two of the school governors.

Before long, the speakeasy in the gym storage room was busted, and drunken teens in various states of undress were led away by seething parents.

I vowed the next morning NEVER TO DRINK AGAIN.

I broke that vow. Often, and with a vengeance.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:27, Reply)

Also....school bus
School buses were fun. we got a public bus home from town so had time to nip to chippy first. bus drivers dont drive when you threw chips at them. also, massive fight on the bus was common. I remeber a local skank head gettin once and pissing on the seats. he then tried to steal the bus.
Oh...MR MELON! mr melon was the creepiest and slimiest little bastrd you would ever meet. Caught wankin in the cupboard was the rumor. he told us to stop smokin once... we all verbally abused him and then from then on we never got aany more maths homework.! funny that

not worth it really was it
(norfolk_is_gay, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:26, Reply)

"Ever seen a blue goldfish?"
"No" I squeaked in response.

"It's in the toilet here... Look"

*Whoosh*

Ah, my first day at sixth form...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:24, 1 reply)

Jebus Christ!
I can't remember that far back.
( girlinthehole, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:23, 1 reply)

erm...
1) watchin in amazment as a new teacher ( big black dude from Togo) wrestled a kid to floor on his first day for running in the corridor.

2) same teacher then punching same kid in chest for not turning up to baketball training.

3) teacher gettin suspended for braking a window with a big wooden pole. It was actually one of us.

4) Graphics teacher tellin me a drawing table was indestrucatble. it turns out when you jump on it from a hight it isnt.

5) Mr O'Donohue ( girls favorite, but i fear he maybe a favorite for graham norton etc etc...) turning up in a tutu and white limo for children in need day then gettin sent home to change by head.

6) School bully, big old boy, never took of his leather jacket, ever...throwing an office chair at victrian style teacher. Never saw him again....
(norfolk_is_gay, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:22, Reply)

P.E class
I came to appreciate my complete lack of netball skills when I realised that being on the court nearest the road to a hotel which was also the furthest from the teacher had its advantages. We managed to have our lesson coincide with when a particular football team were practising on our grass hockey pitch. They had to walk passed us to get back to their hotel. So we did what any group of 12 year old girls would do. We waved at them like maniacs.
(ToysForBigBoys would spread her legs for Nick Clegg., Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:21, Reply)

Schoolboy Tomfoolery...
Traditionally, on the last day for the sixth form, the kids who'd hung about with us would be ceremoniously rounded up and hurled one by one into the various skips and cupboards and supply rooms around the school.

Seeing a bit of an opportunity to make some fast cash I started a protection racket. I personally sought out the kids likely to be targeted a couple of days in advance and told them that in exchange for all the cash they had on them I'd make sure nothing untoward happened to them.

I walked off with some £15 that day.

When the Last Day came I got so caught up in the fun of running about and tormenting the kids I completely 'forgot' they'd paid for my protection and helped herd them into skips and cupboards.

That was also the day I was having a smoke with my english teacher behind one of the buildings and he decided to see what would happen if he tried setting fire to the dry grass.

Great days.
( SubCulture Hero ... ... He... .... Comes ... ...., Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:17, 1 reply)

The time I kicked Kully square in the nuts
A joyful moment...he rounded a corner at a full pelt, just as I was air kicking demonstrating some homegrown karate-fu, and Pow! right in the nutsack. Man, that was funny. For me mostly.

In a physics lesson, our teacher was demonstrating the amazing, smelly properties of ammonia, and the correct way of smelling it e.g. waft the smell towards your nose with your hand. When asked about the incorrect method of smelling such chemicals, he demonstrated by holding his nose in the lid of box containing a sponge soaked in the stuff, before rapidly gagging, choking, and staggering to the window amidst streaming tears and guffawing school kids.

Or when our head of year, fond of wearing trackie bottoms, came into our 3rd year assembly with a lob on.

Mostly the time I kicked someone square in the nuts though.
( LemonEntryMyDearWatson This time, Moriarty, the hand is on the other foot, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:12, Reply)

Sports day
Did I mention that I shat down Richard's back in the piggy back race?

I was 15.
( browser still relating boring anecdotes into a void on, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:07, 1 reply)

The Greaze
I went to Westminster, which is a funny kind of school - a weird mix of public school poshness and central London 'cool'. I say cool - obviously not, but still, you couldn't go about in top hats speaking like a plum in central London, you'd get beaten to a pulp. So upper-class shabby was the look to aim for.

Like all old schools, there are lots of odd traditions there, but the weirdest of all is a thing called the Greaze, which happens on Shrove Tuesday. The head chef makes a big pancake (extra-strong, and apparently fortified with horse-hair) which he brings to the main hall ('School') and tosses over a special cast-iron bar. Then a selected group of students make a leap for it, and there's a massive scrum for two minutes, at the end of which whoever has the most is the winner. The Dean of Westminster Abbey traditionally attends, and the school gets given a day off.

I was selected one year to take part, and decided to try a secret weapon: I ate four raw cloves of garlic before the event. The plan was to breathe on people to get past them. It was completely useless - I found the best technique towards the end, which was to climb up onto the scrum and stand on people, which sunk me down the the middle, but it was a bit too late by then.

I stank of garlic for about a fortnight after that. It was hideous - I couldn't get rid of it. I kept brushing my teeth, showering, bathing, drinking milk, it was hopeless. I was like a leper - my roommate was not happy at all, especially as he had a new girlfriend at the time.

Admittedly, he did carve her name onto an orange and chuck it at her shouting 'bitch' shortly afterwards, so I'm not sure it was ever likely to go well.
( flatfrog Staring vacantly into space, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:07, 2 replies)

He did what he was told
Mackie was always causing trouble in class. He was forever being sent out to spend the lesson in some other teacher's classroom - usually when said teacher didn't have a class of his own to teach that period. On this occasion he was sent to Mr McKenzie's. He was told to sit down and do some reading. After a while, Mr McKenzie had to go over to the main building. He told Mackie that under no circumstances was he to leave the room. He did as he was told. When Mr McKenzie came back to the classroom he detected a foul odour in the air. Moving towards his desk he saw that Mackie had shat in the waste paper basket. 'You dirty animal,' he shouted. 'But sir, I really needed to go and you told me not to leave the room,' was Mackie's (accurate) reply. He was sent to the headmaster and received a two-week suspension. Enquiring schoolboys that we were, we all wanted to know what he wiped his arse with. Turns out he had ripped a few pages out of his maths text book. I think this vandalism of school property compounded the original offence.
( ThisCaledonianClown has left it far too late, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:06, 1 reply)

Backing out at the last minute from bunking off for the day.
My three other chums still went ahead with it though, calling me a pussy and suchlike as they sneaked out of the school without me.

They each got given saturday detentions for a month.

I thought that was pretty funny.
(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 13:06, Reply)