Last day of term
I was then, and and still am now, an incorrigable fidgeter. I can't function properly unless I'm rolling something about between my fingers. This explains 25 plus years of heavy smoking.

The last day of term of which I speak was in Mr Calvert's woodwork class. We had nothing to do and were sitting about on the benches. I think, arranged left to right, were me, Sandy, Burnsy and Buzz.

This, I think, was 1983 and it was already shaping up to be the long, hot summer that 1983 was in the UK - we were probably talking about Clare, Lisa and Steph and what our chances were (none - that's another story.)

Another teacher came in to chat to Mr Calvert - possibly about what chances they had with Miss Shoebridge the hot English teacher (none - that's another story.)

And I was fidgetting - as usual - this time with a 9" bit of wooden beading that I'd idly picked up.

Mr Calvert - possibly in mid-lustful discussion - backed towards me. I can still see his flabby grey polyester stay-prest clad arse approaching slowly and I did what I had to do.

I whacked his arse as hard as I possibly could with my bit of beading then thrust it into the hands of the nonplussed Buzz.

Mr Calvert turned round, gazed at his possible assailants and saw Buzz, slack-jawed with a 9" bit of beading in his hand and gave him a mighty whack.

I believe that Buzz is now a very senior police officer. Sorry mate.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Sun 11 Sep 2011, 19:58, 1 reply)

I am truly sorry.
heavy smoking wanking off sailors for pennies
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 12 Sep 2011, 8:13, closed)