cultural studies
not a project as such, but a great skive.
Wednesday afternoons, as anyone at a British educational institution will tell you, are the sole preserve of those good at sports. Until the age of 16, me and my kin were very much forced to accept our positions leaning against the goalpost of the muddiest outpost of our school fields whilst the 'special' team attempted something looking a bit like football. I was ruthless in the half-arsedness of my participation, and couldn't wait for the day I joined sixth-form, and the extra 'options' i could have instead of freezing my dick off in an itchy, muddy, polyester reversible shirt (which we'd be forced to turn inside out as soon as they were muddy enough).
Come sixth-form, we were presented with a crappy hand-written option form suggesting we either spend our wednesday afternoons on the field again, in the library, or doing community service.
NO FUCKING CHANCE.
such a hastily scrawled option sheet was begging for an alteration, and so it was that myself and a few others got away with 'cultural studies' for almost two years. no-one noticed, not even the teacher who would drive us into town and drop us at the pub, immediately next door to a museum or some other place of cultural relevance, whereupon we would spend the rest of the afternoon getting smashed for 99p a pint, or whatever cheap deals were available that day.
thinking back on it, i guess no-one cared. still, happy times.
( the brass moustache putting the ass moust in brache since, Wed 19 Aug 2009, 22:36, Reply)