Sheep shagger
I may well have regaled this story before, so apologies for any unintentional pearoasting.

We begin, of course, in my school days. I was a strange teenager; slightly chubby and far more intelligent than about 99% of the other girls. Yes, it was a girls' school. Yes, it was every bit as bitchy and awful as girls' schools are supposed to be, but without the saving grace of constant lezzing in hot school uniforms. In fact, our school uniforms were hideous blue sack-like sweatshirts with foul, knee-length kilts. All the lesbians were ugly. But I digress.

At the age of fifteen, my least favourite lesson was "food technology". It was a combination of the utter pointlessness of the content (in which we made muffins every week while pretending we were industrially manufacturing them), and the fact that I was sharing an oven with a bunch of complete retards.

In those days we called them "Shazzas", although in today's vernacular, it translates as "chavs" or "fucking common". I had no time for them, though they were somewhat offended by me. Perhaps it was the fact that I sometimes used long words like "contraception".

This all came to a head one day, when chief Shazza, a girl who I have no doubt has at least ten children now, asked in her voice which twenty a day at fifteen had rendered into sounding like a plane taking off: "Oi, are you a virgin?"

Now, not only do I have years of experience of being on the receiving end of this crap, but I also taught in a school for a brief period. Nothing brings more lulz for the common-or-garden chav than posing this question to a nerd. I have no idea why.

In my most crushingly patronising tone--I did a good "crushingly patronising tone"; it was probably one of the reasons most of the school hated me--I replied the immortal line:

"Do sheep count?"

Anyone with a level of intelligence greater than a stapler would see that this was (1) sarcastic in that lowest-form-of-wit way and (2) physically impossible at any rate.

Not Shazza corner.

For the last year at school, it was like they'd put bells on the stupid people. I could hear them approaching me a mile off by the chorus of bleats.
( Queen of Cheesecake, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 10:37, Reply)