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This is a question School Naughtiness

The B3ta Confessional is open. What was the naughtiest thing you ever did at school?

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 12:55)
Pages: Popular, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

Just another wank story
4th form lunch time. we were allowed to bring records (remember them?) into school and play them on the school dansette in the school hall, like some impromptu crappy disco.
as someone who had brought a record in (probably 'Diamond Dogs', by Bowie) I was amongst the hallowed few who were allowed on the stage area..... where Miss R (the student teacher), had left her scarf. her perfumed, sexy, erotically, charged scarf.
I swiped the scarf and took it into the nearby lavvies and wrapped it around my face while I had a quick onanistic fumble.
I managed to get it back just in time and with no stains
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 19:42, 9 replies)
Sent off
Oh, and called the games master (evil Welsh rugby player) a f****** c*** when he gave a decision against me when reffing a football match. Of course he sent me off & then made me stand on the touchline - every games lesson for the rest of the year.
I've never been so cold...
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 19:42, 7 replies)
Messerschmitt malarkey
Our art teacher drove a Messerschmitt (look it up if you haven't seen one - it's like half a Smart). Not me, but some sixth formers, managed to use ladders & planks to lever it up onto the flat roof of a room at the back of the hall. Looked awesome, but no idea how he got it back down.
Personally, I helped thread a broomstick through a fellow student's blazer sleeves, tie it to his wrists & leave him face down on the school field - crucified for Easter. And lock somebody in the quad & turn a fire hose on him and of course sit first years on the drinking fountain.
How did we not get expelled?
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 19:38, Reply)
I flicked ink down Mr Gordon the maths teachers back everyday to prove he never changed his clothes
He didn't

UppityDamnPrimate can confirm this.

Do I win QOTW with this epic tale?
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 19:26, 1 reply)
Just two days ago
I wrote all over a wall in my college with a sharpie.

Luckily my boss doesn't go into that classroom very often.

Oh, and then there was the day me and one of my colleagues nearly got told off like naughty students for running down the corridor with a lamb's heart to scare one of the other lecturers.

Sometimes I love my job :)
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 19:06, Reply)
In year 6, my best friend to this day and I, along with a couple of year 5 kids, managed to flood the school.

During one lunch-time, I realised that the principles of leverage could be amusingly applied to a large drain-cover using a sturdy stick. We managed to pry the drain cover off, and being 10, balanced it on the edge of the drain and stationed one of us on either side of it, with the aim of jumping up and down alternately as though it were a primitive see-saw.

Naturally, the drain-cover fell straight into the drain, where it sliced straight through the mains-pipe. Ah, the difference between a drain and an access point for the mains-pipe.

We fled to the other side of the playground, acted as though we had nothing to do with it. The bell for the start of assembly before afternoon lessons rang, we went in. Through the windows of the assembly hall, we saw the janitor wading out into a very large and expanding pool of water.

By the end of the day, the entire playground was a good foot deep in water, and the next two days of school got cancelled. Never got found out, although I still feel a bit guilty about it every now and then. Guilty and very amused, anyway.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:42, Reply)
We routinely skipped our double sports lessons in sixth form to drive to a nearby pub
And sit down in our school uniforms and tuck into a pint and chicken in a basket whilst the locals nursed a Guinness and pored over the Daily Post. There even came a stage when we would serve the punters and help out if it was a bit busy before going back before the lesson ended. Happy illegal times. To be honest it was also an excuse to be twattish boy racers on fairly empty roads on the way there, 96mph in a 1.1L mk 1 Fiesta is a feat I would never knowingly repeat and probably did more to encourage me not to be such a cock in a car than any police cautions would have.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:35, Reply)
Somehow managed to trigger a gloy glue fight
in the middle of a GCSE maths lesson without the teacher noticing. This culminated with someone producing a bic lighter and leaving a scorched channel of hair stubble up one poor lad's barnet.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:28, Reply)
Managed to trip the ring main in one whole block
By persuading a classmate that he should wedge a socket open with a variety of metal spoons. Cue a loud bang, a blue flash and an interesting scorch mark on said socket.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:24, Reply)
Broke in and
placed an array of road cones on the roof of the three storey science block at about ten at night. This mainly involved the convoluted use of a ladder and then some hiding in bushes only to be discovered by a concerned neighbour and somehow managing to persuade them we weren't up to anything untoward. Hardly a mass riot but it seems much more daring when you're a teen.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:21, Reply)
I was in the sixth-form and it was a grey and miserable lunchtime. The hammering rain prevented us having a kickabout or wandering into the village to annoy the Newsagent by breaking his "Two schoolchildren at a time on these premises" rule so we were sat around in the common room, bored and bemoaning the fact that the radio didn't have a tape player.

Within the common room was a smaller room called 'The Library'. It contained reference materials, textbooks and, pointedly, prospectuses for pretty much every university and further learning establishment in the country. These prospectuses (prospectii?) were all squeezed into free-standing files. Aberystwyth and Aberdeen in a file with a big 'A' on the front, Bradford and Birmingham in 'B' and so on right through the alphabet with much duplication of certain letters. These were all arranged in alphabetical order along two very long shelves.

Boredom can do funny things to your brains and I suddenly realised we had all the ingredients required for a game of Countdown. We got Dan to be Richard Whiteley (as he was the token speccy kid). Carol played Carol (because she was called Carol) and we put the head boy and girl together with a dictionary in the corner. They were Dictionary Corner. The rest of us (around a dozen) split into two teams. All the prospectuses were taken off the shelf and arranged into vowels and consonants, the outward facing sides (with the letters on) turned away from Carol to add a soupcant of dignity and randomness to the letters being chosen.

And so it came to pass that the grey, rainy lunch break flew by in splendid fashion. 15 or so of us laughing our acne off playing a typically rude version of the nation's favourite parlour game. Aces. So much fun, in fact, that the bell going for afternoon registration caught us all off-guard. Most legged it immediately. One or two tried half-heartedly to put everything back in a semblance of order before deserting also; Carol, last to leave other than me, saying "It was your idea, you put it all back."

Bastards. I was late getting back for registration, almost missing it completely - and Mr. Calder tore a strip off me for bad timekeeping.

But that wasn't the worst of it. My next lesson (double Computer Studies) was interrupted by a young lad knocking the door and instructing my teacher that Mrs. Grant (head of sixth form) wanted to see me immediately.

Balls. Off I trotted to her office. She wasn't known for her good humour, Mrs Grant, and when I went in she had a face like a puce harpy.

"I'm not going to waste your time or mine, Mr. Jimlad; Becky Brooks and Jennifer White have told me exactly what happened and who the culprit is."

"But I..."

"BE QUIET YOU SILLY LITTLE MAN! I have already phoned your parents, informed them what has taken place and told them to expect you home early. You are not welcome to return to this school for a period of two weeks, whereupon I hope you'll have had sufficient time to think about your actions."

And that's how I came to be suspended from school for re-arranging the university-prospectus boxes so that they read...


I didn't have time to put them all back alphabetically so I'd improvised. Fairplay to my dad, he laughed his arse off when I told him why I'd been suspended.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:17, 2 replies)
Created a 'grab hole' in the prefab walls of our sixth form
common room over which was placed a poster. Amazing how the repeated prank of grabbing unsuspecting girls through a wall fails to lose its appeal when you are that old.

EDIT: Before anyone says it no, not a glory hole! You mucky people.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 18:16, 1 reply)
Harmless fun...
I did many things at College, and was even busted for a few of them. I managed to get kicked out in the end, but that, believe it or not, is a pretty boring story in itself.

One of my favourite memories was when I was skiving off one afternoon. I called a mate of mine who had a free period to grab a lift home. He answered his phone but was already half-way to town, so I thought there was little chance of him coming back.

A bit of background here - the school I went to is private and about 160 years old, with all the attendant gothic architecture and pretentious attitudes that go along with that type of establishment. It is also boys only. The local girls private school had recently moved to the College's old boarding house, just up the road. We had various shared facilities, including one of our sports fields.

On this day, as Tom and Michael came back to pick me up, we noticed that the girls college had started lining up on the shared sports field for their annual school photo. This, apparently, had garnered his attention and ideas were bubbling. We nipped fairly sharpish into town, to the nearest fancy-dress shop where we proceeded to purchase large, hairy, monkey outfits and inflatable mallets. Tom drove us back up to college, with Michael and I getting changed in the car.

We arrived back up the hill (our school was at the top of a hill) and jumped out of the car just as the last of the girls school lined up on the specially erected grandstand, ran onto the football field and proceeded to beat the shit out of each other in monkey costumes in front of, and totally disrupting the mass photograph of, 600 girls - now cheering us at the top of their voices.

I know it's not exactly the most horrific of things that will be shared this week, but it was definitely one of the most enjoyable pranks that I've participated in.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 17:27, 3 replies)
Tossed out
A good friend of mine was suspended from School for alleged sexual harassment of a teacher.

The teacher; ‘Jugs Taylor' sat down with the Headmaster, him and his parents, and told all how he had "feigned masturbation before proceeding to flick the imaginary semen round the room"

(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 17:11, 1 reply)
Black Wednesday
During a particularly boring Politics lesson my chum surreptitiously slid me a note which was spotted by the eagle-eyed Mr.Dean.

He picked it up and read it aloud to the class;

"Deano's cock is called Black Wednesday"

We were dragged chortling all the way to the headmaster's office...
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 17:02, 1 reply)
That's what you get for letting people wait

Our teacher was late. How could she possible dare to delay the education of thirtysomething young enquiring minds, thirsting for their daily dose of knowledge in order to one day lead the world into a golden age of perfectly spoken Latin. This was inexcusable. We had to do something to teach her. So as not to allow her to force her wacky timetable onto us, we decided that we would try and turn the tables, and have her wait instead. To this end, we closed the door, put a Table and a dustbin behind it in a way that the handle could not be pushed down any more, and waited for her delayed arrival. After what seemed like several million hyperfine-structure transitions of your ordinary caesium atom, she finally arrived and found she wasn't able to enter her classroom. Through the door she yelled at us, but we wouldn't let her in. Since we were all in the class room and only she was not, we thought she couldn't note us down for missing lessons.

Now, even though the good lady was a little slow and hardly motivated, our swift and dauntless action had clearly challenged her. She decided to once again turn the tables and lock us in while she would go and fetch the headmaster. Only problem was, that the good man was not in his office. So while she was roaming the floors looking for him, we decided to make as much of a ruckus as humanly possible. We threw chairs against the wall, screaming manically, behaving like some real psychopaths actually. By chance it was the headmaster who heard us, and opened up the door to see what all the fuzz was about. We explained to him, that our teacher had said she wasn't in the mood today, had locked us up, and left us alone for the rest of the hour. It was only after one of us had had a panic attack, being afraid of closed rooms, and another one needed a wee, that we had taken to this drastic behaviour he had overheard.

The good headmaster let us free, and told us we could spend the rest of the hour outside. On our way down, we came past our teacher on the stairs, still searching for the headmaster. We waved at her cheerily, and I don't think she really recognized who we were. Behind us however, we could hear the voice of the headmaster. “Ah yes, Misses ******, I think we need to talk.”
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:46, Reply)
I was always good, not a geek, not cool like many others I could flit between groups... Nomadically if you like. However, I enjoyed being slightly naughty. One of our favourite past times in biology was attaching strings of test tube holders to a particular girls blazer, Bunsen burners, tubes, tripod things, asbestos mats all made their way into her bag... Bullying I agree, we should have taken the things ourselves. Until one day she flipped. She fancied the pants of my mate Stu... so as with everything in life, she 'told on him'... He got a bollocking for bullying and well I can't remember the exact course of his punishment.

That was Biology, Chemistry was slightly different... there were unguarded chemicals. Magnesium ribbon being a favourite to steal... But it was my mate that did the 2 stupid things. He swiped a bottle of pure ethanol. We had that day - a lovely summers day taken in each a few cans of cider. On the field at lunch time, after he'd eaten some daisies. He promptly filled his half empty can with the ethanol, how he didn't go blind I don't know - but hats off to him, he didn't vom, nor skive off home.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:38, 6 replies)
first tiem poster, long time wanker
I did a few things in school -

one was I jumped on the back of a girl who was on all fours, and pulled her skirt up to show the rest of the guys her knickers... I held her skirt up for a few seconds with her screaming, everyone else started screaming 'urgh!!!!' and pointing, turns out she had yellowie shit stained pants on...

another one was, I paid some quiet weedy friend about 20p to run up behind another friend who we all secretly disliked, and shove a 9" (or so) rusty bent nail up his arse... he did, but a bit too hard, as it went through the pants and deep into his skin... I ran and hid while the weedy friend was suspended for a week, the police were called by the other boys mother and he had to have a tetanus.

I also let the handbrake off a teachers nearly new Nissan Micra and me and a few friends pushed it, with steering lock on, into the side of another teachers car... then it rolled into the science block... apparently it was a dear do to sort :-/
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:32, 1 reply)
Head Shot
Back in infants school, so probably aged around 6, I invented a great new game. I would walk up to someone, then apparently punch them full in the face. The trick was to stand at exactly the right distance that the punch would end mere millimetres from the end of their nose, shocking them but otherwise doing no harm.

What fun I had for about half a day. Until I tried it on one boy, and (I'm sure you've seen this coming, unlike him) completely misjudged it, and smashed him hard on the nose.

I felt pretty bad about it, he was a good lad and didn't deserve it. Bizarrely, although it's more than 40 years ago, I've just remembered his name. So, Gary Head, I apologise once again: I was a dick. Sorry.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:15, Reply)
I was never the naughty kid, but
I was sarcastic as hell and damned sneaky. I had a few close friends and I had a few people who would hang around with our group regardless of the fact I had pointed out how irritating this was. One girl, I will call her Jenny as that is her name, was mind blowingly annoying. She had frizzy hair, cronic dandruff, bad teeth(you could see the plaque people!) an obvious love of fatty foods and an apparent inability to realise when she was being ditched.

The first annoying thing was that she was a spoilt little brat and everything had to be done her way - even things she had little to no idea about!
Secondly, after that Libterty X song "Sexy" came out, she would sidle up to me and sing that word at me with a disturbing smile. I never smiled back, I was constantly trying to swollow the bile that had surged into my mouth.

She would hang around like a freaking limpit. Then our little group discovered that at lunch time there was a porter cabin that would often be left unlocked, and whilst it was supposedly off limits, it became our new lunchtime hideaway. It was a great place to sneak the odd bevvy in and as it was behind the school we could ditch the evidence in the skips. Jenny didn't like this. It wasn't a good thing, especially for underage kids. So I told that since I wasn't a smoker so I needed something to get me through the day and if she didn't like it she could go and hang around with someone who gave a fuck.

That still didn't work. But we got fed up, our little group, of the huffing and tutting that would turn up every lunch time even though she had been told to piss off. So I hatched a plan.

From the cabin you could see up the path that led round to the playground, so whenever we saw her comming we would pile into the store cupboard in the classroom and hold it shut. We would here her come in, call for us, demand we stop hiding and sit around a while until she left. She never caught on :-)

Oh, and there was the time I pinned a girl to a wall by her throat and threatened to break her teeth (I had no idea how) because she called me an "ugly munter who no one would touch with a barge pole", but I was a hormonal little thing. And I was pretty, damn it!
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:04, 5 replies)
I think I am widely regarded as one of the worst pupils my school ever had.
Probably the worst thing I did led to the demise of a number of young pupils. I never got the one I was really after, though. Curse you, Harry Potter!
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 16:03, Reply)
You know that thing that happened on your school trip
where everyone had to stand in assembly until the culprit owned up but no-one did?

That was me.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:57, 4 replies)
Beanz Meanz Frogz
my school was surrounded on 3 sides by farmer's fields, with a ditch and some fencing in between. after the summer holidays, the ditch would be heaving with tiny frogs, which would wind up in some veru peculiar places. we would put them in toilets, inside the music teacher's upright piano, in Mrs. can't-Cope's handbag and even, once or twice, in the staffroom.
now, being the kind of little shit who liked to one-up my friends, i decided i had to try something a bit more ambitious. during a free period one morning, myself and my friend went out to the ditch and collected about a dozen or so little hoppers. we sneaked around to the kitchen windows, which we knew would be open on a warm day(and it was a warm day). i had planned to simply let the frogs loose in the kitchen, but after looking through the window and seeing the catering-sized pan of cold baked beans not two feet away from the window, my plan changed.
of course i put the damn things into the bean pan.
right before lunch was geography, a double lesson. the geography class was directly above the dining room, so it was quite easy to hear the MASSIVE crash from the kitchen, followed by the high-pitched screaming of dinnerladies. keeping a straight face then was one of the hardest things i've ever done.
we found out later that, just as she was putting the pan on to cook, a small tomato-sauce coated frog had clambered out of said pan, causing the dinnerlady to drop the pan and scream like a banshee.
despite never getting caught and being utterly proud of the prank in the way that only a teenager can be, i realised i may just have gone too far on this one. fortunately, no frogs were harmed during this idiocy. well, not as far as i know, anyway.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:56, Reply)

Whilst engaging in typical banter with my friends in the corridor, just before class, we got on to the subject of teachers. Now I don't know what it is about art or science, that seems to attract MILF teachers, but I digress. I started talking about a certain art teacher, with the typical 14-15 year old "She's so fit" and shit like that.

She was stood right behind me.

And yes, class was awkward. It stayed that way for the last year or so I was there.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:53, 6 replies)
A true and not particularly funny story (for a change)
One day during class in my third or fourth year of secondary school, I was being constantly irritated throughout the lesson by a particularly annoying chap sitting next to me called William. He wasn’t doing anything at all malicious, just some general piss taking and winding up that seemed to be working remarkable well for once. As such, after about three quarters of an hour of becoming increasingly pissed off with his incessant needling I eventually cracked. Finding myself gripping my pen like a dagger, point facing downwards, I snapping out my arm and thrust the biro with quite some force straight into his face. A slight overreaction I’m sure you’ll agree, and one that I haven’t since been able to explain.

No real harm was done at all, the pen leaving nothing more than a bit of a scratch going from his right cheek over to the bridge of his nose, but alarming close to his eye all the same. I didn’t even get in any trouble for it; Partly because of luck and partly because we were sat at the back of the class, neither the teacher nor any of the other students had noticed and he didn’t say anything either. The gravity of the situation immediately hit me though, and the realisation that it could have all turned out so very, very differently has haunted me ever since. It’s surely up there amongst the stupidest things I’ve ever done and I do still occasionally wonder how differently my life might have turned out had my pen landed a mere centimetre or two higher and imbedded itself in his eyeball.

Still, at least he shut up.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:27, 7 replies)
Because we all clearly believe every word of penrose's story below...
Sorry, one day I'll come up with a good story instead of pearoasting all my old ones. Any allusions to truth in the following are grossly misrepresented:

Was but a boy of seventeen,
Still innocent, and still so keen,
The physics that this teacher taught,
The laws revealed, equations wrought,
The scientific method made,
The new altar at which we prayed,
The woman with the deep dark eyes,
With short brown hair and full, firm thighs,
In someone twice as old as me,
An unexpected fantasy,
I told myself this was not right,
...but why I else did I think about physics each night?

Yet one day as the class did go,
She asked, "Do stay a moment, Crow,
She smiled and said "No need to fear,
Why, no one even knows we're here."
I pondered every variable,
If we were caught, there'd be such trouble,
Such thoughts flashed by in but a second,
As her experienced lips a-beckoned,
Common sense could not prevail,
My variable resistance failed.

She climbed on me and made to straddle,
I stroked the contours, found the saddle
point between those buttocks firm,
And probing fingers made her squirm.
In a quantum of uncertainty,
Clothes disappeared quite rapidly.
Her eyes lit up as she disrobed,
My swollen, sweating, young Hall Probe.
I begged, "the pressure is too great,
"I'm going to...supersaturate..."
She smiled, "Well, let's relieve that first,"
Opened her mouth and let me burst,
And swallowed then so artfully,
My column's potential vorticity.

She did not gag, she did not gurn,
But kissed my neck and said "Your turn,"
And begged that I should use on her,
My huge interferometer.

And so I found myself a-rising,
Beyond her moist event horizon,
Trapped inside so tight a hold,
By the pull of this black hole.
She goaded me and cried for more,
As she enticed me to explore,
And find within this no-pants dance,
A frequency of resonance.
Our sinusoidal oscillations,
Hurried on a strong sensation,
Wishing it would not be over,
But soon this mass went supernova,
And with a gasp, she seemed to lift
Up on my violent Doppler shift.

And the woman with the deep dark eyes,
With short brown hair and full, firm thighs,
This psiren, twice as old as me,
My unexpected fantasy,
Just caught her breath in time to say,
"Why can't they make all men this way?"

...Well, how else do you think I got an 'A'?
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:22, 3 replies)
Our form room during lower 6th
was the lecture theatre, and thus contained one of the school's TV sets, inside a locked cabinet.
Said lock was easily prised open with a ruler, so that we could watch Neighbours, then be interrupted by the return of our form tutor before Going For Gold had finished.

Despite this wanton abuse of school resources, they never moved the TV, nor fixed the lock.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:20, Reply)
possibly a little dangerous
I was the last person to leave the biology lab, that doubled as our form room, before the start of the summer holidays. I left one on the gas taps on as I walked out. Unfortunately there wasn’t an explosion, but the caretaker did nearly suffocate on entering the room (sans fag) 3-4 weeks into the holiday to investigate the smell of gas. There was a half hearted enquiry, but I’d not bragged about by homicidal tendencies so I was never found out.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 15:06, 1 reply)
After much pestering, my Mum once agreed to bring 15year old me some beer back from Calais, but only if I didn't 'do anything stupid'
Which of course meant not getting really pissed and throwing up over friends and family at a barbeque like I did the time before.

To remove all temptation I took all 108 tiny little bottles to school and kept them in my locker. For about a month I sold them for a pound a go. A teacher caught me smuggling the empties to the bin, Great Escape style, and I got an absolute bollocking, made worse by my attempt to pay him off with said contraband.
(, Thu 8 Sep 2011, 14:48, Reply)

This question is now closed.

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