When teachers mentally crack....
At some stage or other I'm sure we've all seen a teacher snap and totally lose the plot. We had some proper nut jobs at my school and given the fact that corporal punishment was all the rage their mental instability could often be closely correlated to the size and shape of the bruises they left on your arse after you received a caning. Many a proud boast was made by the lads who had made a teacher crack and had then received a good caning. Things like the size of the bruise, the angle of the cane marks and the closeness of the stripes across your arse were much talked about.

In a moment of brilliance I had through my superior wit and intelligence forced our PE teacher to lose his rag completely. Apparently my complete lack of enthusiasm for doing a relay outside in the freezing cold while wearing nothing but a pair of shorts while carrying a huge leather ball filled with sand was expressly forbidden. The fact that he also sorted the teams out so that the best people were always in the same team and won didn't help matters much either. Every week he'd be saying well done lads to the same 6 guys and the rest of us got treated like lepers.

Anyway I digress, so there I was freezing my tits off moping around the field. Oh did I mention it was 8.30am and we had first lesson PE, the grass was wet and we weren't allowed to wear shoes. Only sissies and gays wore shoes apparently. Me pointing out to Mr Fuckface that he had shoes on didn't really do much for my cred either.

So there I was at the lepers end of the field. Barely able to muster the enthusiasm to breath, never mind actually run with a stupid heavy leather ball. Why we couldn't do fun stuff like play football or rugby was completely beyond me. It was also clearly beyond Mr Fuckfaces too because after ignoring me the first few times I asked again very loudly and he suddenly freaked out and shouted 'Shut up, do it properly and show some bloody enthusiasm!!'.

Well that was all the encouragement I needed. I was going to show him what enthusiasm meant even if it killed me. I wanted to be the poster boy for enthusiasm. I wanted everyone to look at me and think, 'Fuck, look how enthusiastic he is'. So the following few minutes where spent with me running as fast as I could, having extra goes so the mongs and lepers in my team could have a break. I shouted, a rallied the troops, I heckled the other teams (especially the A-team), I held the ball above my head and screamed like a man possessed as I ran past the finish line and did a victory lap of the field while shouting at the top of lungs how much I liked PE. Obviously the victory lap wasn't because we'd actually won - it was a victory for enthusiasm!

So there I was, at the end of the PE lesson in the headmasters office having to explain my erratic behaviour. Well the simple answer says I, is that I was just doing what I was told to do - be enthusiastic. He explained that I was actually being very disruptive and had caused the PE teacher much anguish. This came as quite a shock, I must admit, as I fully expected to get some sort of commendation at the end of this all for actually being the poster boy for enthusiasm. I would appear I had misjudged the situation terribly and when he walked over to the the basket of canes I knew my fate was sealed.

At break time I was in the outside courtyard with my pants round my ankles showing the lads the stripes on my arse from when Mr Fuckface happened to walk past. And so it came to pass that on that fateful day I became the only boy in living memory who had successfully managed two cannings from the headmaster on the same day. An act that ensured my entrance into the annals of history along side such luminaries as Gunter who was busted wanking in the toilets (another classic story) and Danny who managed to flood the entire school hall and get away with it cos he wore socks on his hands so they couldn't finger print him.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Thu 29 Jan 2009, 16:09, Reply)