School Days
"The best years of our lives," somebody lied. Tell us the funniest thing that ever happened at school.
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 12:19)
"The best years of our lives," somebody lied. Tell us the funniest thing that ever happened at school.
( , Thu 29 Jan 2009, 12:19)
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Happiest days of her life?
Not for one girl I knew...
Sarah* was the year above me at school, not hugely bright, but very sporty. For a rugger-bugger school, that was enough to make her the darling of a few of the teachers. As long as she kept winning cross-country meets, her grades were enough to keep her in the school.
Until the steeplechase.
This was the final event of the school sports day; all the other events were winding up: the female shot-putters had been wrestled back into their cages, the latest victims of poor javelin-handling had been bundled off to the sanatorium looking like fleshy pincushions, and the entire school was gathered to watch this legendary event, whoop and cheer as the runners performed countless laps, and gasp as they successfully negotiated the water-jump each time.
Ah, yes. The water-jump. A place of mystery and horror: a crumbling waist-height hurdle leading straight into a murky pit of despair, filth and, allegedly, water. A place where sarky juniors were threatened with drowning by exasperated prefects. A hole of scum and disease. And, because 6th-form boys are a repetitive, unimaginative lot, full of piss, freshly added from dozens of teenage cocks the night before. Only the best for our steeple-chasers!
Everything was going well; various kids had successfully been for a smoke without being spotted by a teacher, others had managed to bugger off without their Housemaster/mistress being alerted to their absence, and the steeplechase was nearly over. Sadly, none of the runners had yet fallen into the water beyond their knees, but there was still hope.
And then, it happened. Sarah was ahead of the other girls by a country mile, and was running with a group of boys. They were nearly there: she put on a sprint, to try and break away from this clump of runners. She got to the hurdle, mis-judged it, caught her leg, and plunged face-first into the rancid pool below. She put out her arm in a vain attempt to break her fall. It shattered her wrist immediately. The pain made her gasp, breathing in a lungful of stagnant, stinking water/piss/mud. Then the other runners arrived, unaware of her predicament.
And jumped on her other arm, breaking it in three places.
She was carted off to hospital, crying and vomiting. After having her arms set in plaster, they had to pump her stomach. Not, I think, a point in her life she looks back on with fondness.
*I can't remember her real name, but that's as good as any.
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:47, 5 replies)
Not for one girl I knew...
Sarah* was the year above me at school, not hugely bright, but very sporty. For a rugger-bugger school, that was enough to make her the darling of a few of the teachers. As long as she kept winning cross-country meets, her grades were enough to keep her in the school.
Until the steeplechase.
This was the final event of the school sports day; all the other events were winding up: the female shot-putters had been wrestled back into their cages, the latest victims of poor javelin-handling had been bundled off to the sanatorium looking like fleshy pincushions, and the entire school was gathered to watch this legendary event, whoop and cheer as the runners performed countless laps, and gasp as they successfully negotiated the water-jump each time.
Ah, yes. The water-jump. A place of mystery and horror: a crumbling waist-height hurdle leading straight into a murky pit of despair, filth and, allegedly, water. A place where sarky juniors were threatened with drowning by exasperated prefects. A hole of scum and disease. And, because 6th-form boys are a repetitive, unimaginative lot, full of piss, freshly added from dozens of teenage cocks the night before. Only the best for our steeple-chasers!
Everything was going well; various kids had successfully been for a smoke without being spotted by a teacher, others had managed to bugger off without their Housemaster/mistress being alerted to their absence, and the steeplechase was nearly over. Sadly, none of the runners had yet fallen into the water beyond their knees, but there was still hope.
And then, it happened. Sarah was ahead of the other girls by a country mile, and was running with a group of boys. They were nearly there: she put on a sprint, to try and break away from this clump of runners. She got to the hurdle, mis-judged it, caught her leg, and plunged face-first into the rancid pool below. She put out her arm in a vain attempt to break her fall. It shattered her wrist immediately. The pain made her gasp, breathing in a lungful of stagnant, stinking water/piss/mud. Then the other runners arrived, unaware of her predicament.
And jumped on her other arm, breaking it in three places.
She was carted off to hospital, crying and vomiting. After having her arms set in plaster, they had to pump her stomach. Not, I think, a point in her life she looks back on with fondness.
*I can't remember her real name, but that's as good as any.
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:47, 5 replies)
No doubt she's currently receiving counselling...
That's nasty. Very, very nasty.
*clicks*
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:55, closed)
That's nasty. Very, very nasty.
*clicks*
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 10:55, closed)
Bloody horrible for her.
She was meant to be sitting her GCSEs that summer, so with both arms in plaster, she had to dictate them to a teacher to write down for her.
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 11:05, closed)
She was meant to be sitting her GCSEs that summer, so with both arms in plaster, she had to dictate them to a teacher to write down for her.
( , Fri 30 Jan 2009, 11:05, closed)
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