One of probably many stories
When I was in Yr7, I managed to go on a residential trip, with only Yr8 kids. Extra young and impressionable, I yearned to fit in (or at best not get the shit kicked out of me!). The trip was on a farm, that had horse's stables converted into bunk rooms, tons of fields to get up to crazy shit in, and an archery field.
Day 1, we arrive just as night falls, and we're on a team hide and seek. Seekers have radios, hiders have their wits. So cue me and my friend Judah running in the middle of the night across a field, noticing what looked like an orange glow. Judah reaches out and OW.. (but the git kept it quiet enough that I was none the wiser). "Here GravyJoy, come touch this". OK, ZAP. Bloody electric fence! Still the third guy on our team didn't hear what us 2 had done, so naturally I passed it on :-)!
Day 1: Night time. One rather large guy in our group, sleeping on the bottom bunk, 3 or 4 guys get up at midnight, piss on his sleeping bag, making the guy think he'd wet himself (poor guy)
Day 2: Wake up, all is going to be good today, get up to usual crap. Decide that to fit into the group more, I should somehow abuse this large lad. Decide the best way is to use his suitcase as a trampoline. I was found out, promptly bollocked (rightly so, what the fook was I thinking).
Day 2 evening: the faggies have found a suitable place to sneak off and smoke and promptly do so, waking half the camp up as they go
Day 3: Oohh, archery today. Cue one lesson in Bow and Arrow safety. I.e. if you have a problem, put the equipment on the floor, pointing down the range, and walk back. Cue previously mentioned Judah, pulling his bow back so far, his arrow gets stuck in the bow. Cue Judah, turning around pointing the thing at ME, shouting "Sir, this bloody things stuck". Cue me practically shitting myself!
Day 3: Horny ladies in our group decide to sneak a peek into the guys room to see people getting changed, only to find previously mentioned fat kid getting changed, wearing only socks. Fat kid notices ladies, and instead of covering his shame, proceeds to style his hair. (In hindsight, fair play!)

End of first Residential experience. Spent the next year avoiding Fat Kid. If Fat Kid is reading, I am truly sorry for being a shit in the crowd!
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:15, Reply)

"Pompt de pompt-pompt"
The fools let us loose in Paris, with the merest of adult supervision.

So, when you're 14 years old and halfway up the Eiffel Tower eating your packed lunch with twenty other teenage idiots, what do you do when you see a Hollywood film crew setting up in the plaza below?

Oranges, hard boiled eggs, they got the lot.

I scored a direct hit with a pot of yoghurt on a rather flashy hang-glider that was to play a crucial part in the action, causing no end of abuse, and the transferral of blame onto another, entirely innocent party of schoolkids from Germany.

We refuse to apologise. Condorman was shit.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:13, Reply)

ah school trips....
Being musical and sporty, i have had several great trips away, which include:

Being caught playing strip poker on the way back from germany.
Being offered some premium dope from a nutcase in canada.
Watching a shed being hit by lightening in canada, and then persuading one of the more gullible members of the group that the bus was next. By pure coincidence the overhead compartment door then swung open and all the coats etc which were in there then fell out onto her head. Iv never heard so much screaming.
Catching glandular fever after a trip to sheffield.
Having the back window of the bus fall out on the way to newtonmore in scotland. Two hours later, the front window was smashed as well.
Having a very dirty minibus journey to inverness from manchester. Sleeping bags cover a multitude of sins people!

Probably many more but i cant think of them now. Meh....
(doublefruit is wasting away the day that is, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:06, Reply)

Derbyshire. Caves, Mines.
30 or so fresh faced 10-11 year olds bundle out of the coach. We're in Derbyshire - 100s of miles further away from home than most of us had ever been before ( Bracknell is oddly insular like that ).

Unpack, all is good. We walk down the hill. There's a little dip. Now we had our regular hyperactive clown, who ran down the hill and jumped down the little dip.

It wasn't a little dip.

Kid had only gone and jumped into a canal.

Fishing him out was rather funny in retrospect: lots of kids calling out "yooooouuuuuuu twwaattttt" into the water...
(mmmm curry doesn't really understand this sig lark, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:04, Reply)

The Spanish Job
In my early 20s, studying architecture at university, I got to go to Barcelona for a week as part of a site visit.

12 of us arrived at the airport and got allocated 4 to a hire car - if only they'd been red, white and blue...

Tutors in car #1 zoom off telling us to follow them. I'm driving the last one, trying to keep the first two in sight.

Anyway, the tutors head for the sea-front and start wandering round and round side streets, obviously unable to find the place they are looking for. We all park up and look at a map, then off we go again in convoy.

Car #1 heads into a car park that borders the sea, then out through a small gate at the back. Lots of shouting from locals as car #2 does the same.

As we reach the gate, car #1 has disappeared from view and car #2 has come to a halt where car #1 disappeared. We roll up slowly, the locals now gesturing at us too. It appears we are on a pedestrian esplanade.

Car #2 now disappears - down a steep flight of steps. What to do? It's only a hire car and my tutor paid for it, so we gamely join in, waving out the windows at the same time for added effect.

Lots of bumping about, apologising in spanish and swerving around some of the older residents later, we arrive at the place our tutor was heading for.

It's a petrol station.
( chthonic, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:53, Reply)

its grim oop north
I was about 9 or 10 and made a school trip for a week in t'sunny north. Arrived at our hotel, which I had to share with a mate of mine (fortunately) as it only had a single bed so I ended up sleeping at the end curled up like a cat. After being left to unpack before tea I blew tomato chunks all over teh bed (I used to get really bad uncrollable bouts of vomiting from travel sickness) so we both had to sleep in a stinky room on the cold floor like a couple of pikey squatters. nice first day.

On the whole the trip was quite good fun, one guy nearly fell into a ravine after a downpour had left the (less than safe) footpath slippery and was only hauled up because we were dawdling at the back, the teachers and guides had walked off....and didnt believe us when we told them what had happened...pah.

Midweek we went out onto the "beach", a loose use of the term as I though black sand was only prevelant in volcanic areas (maybe im wrong, I dont care), we legged it out into seamingly endless sands until the same lad that nearly died a few days before got stuck in quicksand...something else I thought (wrongly) was native to warmer climates, he was pulled out, he only got down to his knees and all seemed so surreal we didnt make much of it, but we did all get punished and had to stay with the teachers for the rest of the trip, probably for our safety more than anything else.

Ah bollocks, I always end up waffling, like anyone cares.

My stories are my penis extension

BTW - the school never went back there.
(Smellyape liking http://www.b3ta.com/bpma/, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:44, Reply)

Story Of The Lost Ball
Told this one before - but I think it deserves to be told again :o)

True story of my own, and I still have the wristband from the Swiss hospital to prove it.

I was about 14-15 and was away with the school on a Skiing holiday to Switzerland

We hiked to a playground - so I decided to sit on the see saw whilst I caught my breath.

Unfortunately for me I was sitting the other way, so what I didn't notice was that 7-8 people were pushing on the other side, so that I was being raised up in the air.

At first I thought it was a joke by my mates, but unknown to me was that my mates were being held back by a group of scallies, whilst all their mates were lifting me up, and preparing to drop me (see, I was an intelligent unconventional type, which baffled their collective 5 brain cells).

I was now cacking myself as I began to drop, and drop fast.

I was leaning to my left hand side, and I attempted (unwisely) to support my dropped weight on my left leg. My leg broke just below my knee cap, and the bone came out of the skin. Lovely.

Only, I didn't feel the pain in my leg for about 9 days afterwards, as next in line for a meeting with Mr. See-Saw were my family jewels.

I cannot describe the pain I felt at that moment. Girls, ask any guy how it feels to be hurt down below, and they'll tell you. This was about 6 times worse, easily.

As I crumpled to the ground, the teachers swarmed around me, winced at my leg, and phoned an ambulance.

This is when I cupped my swollen nadgers, and realised that I couldn't refer to them using a plural anymore. One of them had gone. Disappeared into thin air.

When I arrived at the hospital, I spent 6 days in recovery getting a metal pin put into my leg and have it put in a cast, which EVERYONE signed.

The doctors said to me that my bollock might not come out of my body for up to 3 days, and if it didn't return after that, they would have to operate to bring it back out. Luckily for me, the day they scheduled me for surgery, it popped back out without warning. That was the strangest feeling in the world - it kinda felt like my scrotum was giving birth.

It was the strangest, horriblest, most painful thing that has happened to me in my life apart from a few bike accidents i've had.

Still hate the little bastards for doing that to me, but to my luck 3 of them were expelled for it. Serves 'em right.
(tangentboy strikes again, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:29, Reply)

Uni trip to Moscow
Some years ago I returned to Uni to do a second degree, this time in Fine Art and no I didn’t get my hair dyed an odd colour or take up wearing strange clothes…It was just an excuse to look at naked people in life drawing classes…

Anyway, the opportunity arose to go to Moscow to see the art, drink copious amounts of vodka and get very cold…..

We arrive at one of the Olympic Village hotels (built for the 1980 games and not renovated or updated in the last 20 years….) and the first thing we discover is that prostitution is widely accepted in the hotel and working ladies sit around ready to ‘entertain’.

Our first evening is spent in the hotel bar (the ‘village’ is on the outskirts of the city and the underground stops running at about 10.30….as we found out when we missed the last train….). So we get stuck into vodka and cherry juice…very nice….unfortunately my lightweight best friend tries to keep up with me….3 glasses of wine and I’m anyone’s, 13 vodkas and I’m still coherent..ish….She then looses the next day…she said it was the change of water….

We go on the obligatory coach trip around Moscow…start at the Kremlin, get whistled at by the guards – and not for being female, but for daring to step off the pavement… Another friend of mine volunteers to go buy tickets for the Bolshoi ballet (she’s a culture vulture and I wanted to see the men in tights….ahem…..). She hasn’t returned by the time we go to a different exit to pick up our coach, the guide won’t wait, the tutors refuse to go looking for her, we refuse to leave….um…no, actually, we say…we really should wait….but she’ll be fine….

8 hours later she turns up at the hotel…..the police didn’t need to get involved, fortunately….but it’s apparently a common problem with visitors who are unfamiliar with Russians, the language and their culture…..She refused to speak to us for the rest of the trip and needed to go into therapy when we came home…..Yep, feel like a heel about that one…..

However, the bar called…and we’d bought some really good quality wigs….A bit random I know, but you can buy excellent wigs in Russia, and I’d always fancied being a blonde…..So we go down to the bar, my blonde friend wearing a black bob and me wearing a long blonde wig…..My friend is accosted by a Russian who tells her she has good teeth and how much does she charge…she was wearing leather trousers…so who can blame him…..And I find all the men from our group suddenly manoeuvring their chairs to sit around me…..cue very, very interesting evening…..which I could never reveal here as some ….no….I’m not telling…..

But I might….
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:07, Reply)

my geography excursion
we stayed in caravan parks at most locations. one night we were in fairly old vans and I had just bought a new torch and battery. My teacher was up the other end of the van about to plug in a kettle to make a cuppa.

Testing out my new torch, I timed a quick flash of my torch onto the powerpoint he was switching on that he reflexed from thinking it was about to zap him.

Bloody hell his reaction was funny at the time - trying to put it into words just won't make sense.
(mudslinger lives in a house surrounded by pussy....... cats!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:02, Reply)

French Cycling Trip
It must have been about 1986 or thereabouts. 25 or so fifteen year old hooligans cycling down the Cherbourg peninsula to St Malo for the best part of a week. Glorious carefree sunny days, camping and staying in Youth Hostels, you get the picture. There were two teachers with us (one cycling, one driving the school minibus with all our bags, etc in) who were fairly happy to turn a blind eye to the occasional fag smoked or bottle of cheap frogplonk being passed around.
Late one hot afternoon myself and a mate of mine called John were ambling along a typical Normandy country road on our racers, and as far as we were concerned we were bringing up the rear, so to speak. We couldn't see the rest of the lads or the van up front, so on noticing the rotting corpse of a poor run-over cat on the grass verge a very wicked plot was hatched between us. As any veteran of any childhood trip to France knows, explosive bangers are (or at least were) freely available at most newsagents/toy shops, and all of our group, without exception had a small arsenal of them about their person ready to let off as soon as the teachers were out of sight and earshot. Dangerous fireworks and teenage boys. What a winning combination that is.
John pulled out one of the biggest bangers imaginable (it looked like a small stick of dynamite) and gently inserted it into the cat's gaping mouth. The stench up close was fucking awful, and you could see maggots crawling around everywhere.
John then took the fuses from two other smaller bangers and joined them to the original one, in order to allow us time to cycle out of the "blast zone".
He lit the fuse. We ran like fuck to our bikes, got on them and pedalled away. Twenty seconds or so later we were further down the road and stopped to witness the spectacle. Two seconds after that Mr Pell rounded the corner in the minibus. One second after that the minibus was re-decorated in putrid, decaying cat.
We fucking pissed ourselves.
Mr Pell (who had been driving with the windows open) took a very different view.
All the other lads' bangers were confiscated that evening, and myself and John were therefore not all that popular for the rest of the trip, but hey - it was worth it.
Shoplifting crap aftershave became the next holiday pastime by the way. To this day, even the faintest whiff of "Hai Karate" takes me back to rural France.

No apologies for length. The cat loved it.
( BobbyParadise, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 14:01, Reply)

Butlins
School trip to butlins for the day. 10 minutes before the buses were meant to leave (this being 6pm in the evening), i buggered off and made sure i couldnt be found for a couple of hours.
(loquis, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:59, Reply)

Well, we went to a place called Fairplay House when I was 11
and two of us boys had to share a room with six boys from another school, that we didn't know, in bunkbeds.

At one point one night after lights-out(where we obviously weren't sleeping, and had flashlights) one of them announced that he was going to have a wank in the cupboard. We said, fair enough, all giggled a bit, continued chatting, and got on with it. Then my friend said "I wonder if he's actually doing it", and we started getting everyone to shut up so we could see what we could hear.

So we went silent, and waited a couple of seconds to see if we were being wank-duped, then just as somebody was about to shout something witty, all we heard was a falling of coathangers inside the cupboard and the boy going "OWWWW FUCK".

The laughing woke up the teachers, and then it was all a lot of trouble :)
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:57, Reply)

Marmite Miner
My brother went to Germany on a school trip when he was about 11. Once of the 'highlights' was a trip down a mine.
When they were all down there a terrible stench filled the air. Was it sulphur, perhaps?

No, a boy, too embarrassed to ask for the location of the lavatories, had shat himself - big, stinky diarrhoea. This of course caused much hilarity amongst the other boys, particularly when they returned above ground and it became apparent that the poor lad was wearing tight, off-white trousers that clearly showed a massive mustard-coloured streak of shite up the backside. The teachers tried to protect the boy's dignity by bunching around him as they walked back to the coach. Boys being boys, however, all of them spent the entire walk running round the back of the goup for another look, pointing and laughing, whilst being told to 'leave him alone' by the teachers.

*update* He changed schools after a term of merciless bullying about the above incident, apparently.
( Monty Boyce, My cheese game is strong, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:56, Reply)

one of my first school excursions...
was to one of those "summer camp" style of locations - one morning at the dining room many of us discovered the sugar for our cereal was revoltingly awful.

Later found out a couple of cheeky classmates had snuck in early and poured a lot of salt from the salt shakers into the sugar containers....

Many of us had a bad taste in our mouths for the rest of that morning....
(mudslinger lives in a house surrounded by pussy....... cats!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:55, Reply)

two trips... almost a feeling of deja-vu
Both these trips occured one after the other...

first trip: on a Boy Scout Jamboree to New Zealand.
Incident: When on the South Island Tour bus got bogged/slid slowly off the road on a trip up a mountainside dirt road. everyone had to bail out to take the pressure it was having on a couple of trees that were stopping the bus from rolling downhill.

second trip: School excursion out to Whitecliffs (Broken Hill, Australia).
Incident: after a short rain we all jumped in the bus to go checkout the local solar powerplant. The bus slid into the inside of a corner of a dirt road and ended up bogged. A couple of locals helped out by using a modified ute (the true beefy paddock basher design with a rollcage!) and a little datsun ute - both daisychained to the bus and slipping and sliding about like crazy!
(mudslinger lives in a house surrounded by pussy....... cats!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:49, Reply)

After...
..being chased through the Everglades (library) by three angry walrus (one janitor) because we couldn't get tickets (meh?) we decided that taking microdots at school was SO over.
( The Lurker Plenty One, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:46, Reply)

Food poisoning.
On our second year high-school French trip the entire party of about 100 or so kids and teachers got food poisoning, full-on vomiting everywhere, raging diarrhoea, unable to move for two days food poisoning. There was only one teacher who didn't get sick. It was carnage. One of the lads I was sharing a room with threw up on my bed whilst I was in it because he couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough.

I would have felt sorry for the hotel staff who had to clean up after us, if it wasn't for the fact that they were the same bastards who poisoned us in the first place. Still, it got us out of actually having to speak any French. We spent the rest of the week pissing about at country parks and doing no work at all.
(tomsk, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:44, Reply)

She's not waiting for a bus.
Aged 14, I got packed off with a couple of other kids from my school to Vienna, for a Maths competition (i was a bit of a swot and a geek then). So the few of us (4 i think) end up in a completely foreign city with a scatterbrained Maths teacher who seemed more interested in sampling the local beer than anything else.

So, they day before the competition, we've wandered around the city a little, and I got separated from the others. We had decided to make our own way back, but I was counting on sticking with one of the others. It was getting quite late, about 10:30pm, and I'm stuck in a city where I don't speak the language, have no idea of the layout, and only have a piece of paper on me with the address written on it, and a very small amount of money.

Being unable to navigate the subway system, I decide to ask a nice woman for directions. she takes me over to a bus stop and talks to the driver, who then takes me on the bus and tells me where to get off. Thankfully once I do that I recognise the area and can get home, at around midnight.

It's not until several years past my naive state that I realise quite what such a provocatively-clad, heavily-made up middle aged-woman was doing hanging around on street corners, and have a slight twinge of remorse that I was too young to be properly realise what was going on during my first encounter with a prostitute.

I would have apologised for length, but couldn't speak the language
( fross Read your email on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:42, Reply)

Another One...
From a comment I made elsewhere...

Has anyone else ever had that horrible “oh, what have I done now?” moment, where regardless of any other implications, you know the worst thing to come would be the relentless mockery you will have to face from your friends and/or colleagues? No? Just me then?

I remember catching a train from Waterloo to Winchester back when I was in college after a trip to the Film Museum. All my college chums disappeared while we were checking the timetable, so suitably sodding them I decided to catch the train on my own. After waiting on the train listening to the doors slam shut in preparation for pulling away, I saw aforementioned chums running down the platform. Haha! They were going to miss the train! Haha! Serves them right.

Actually, it didn’t. They were running down the platform trying to find me, as I had actually walked straight past them at the timetable boards, and down the platform to get on a train bound for Newcastle. When they stopped laughing they decided it would be best to rescue me.

Not quite an "I went too far" pisspoor joke, this story does have an addendum. As they were looking for me, we really did miss the train to Winchester. Bugger.

EDIT: Apologies. This tale was neither funny nor interesting. However I feel that my time wasted by writing it has now been balanced out by the life you will never claw back from having read it. All is good with the world.
(Captain Skippy pooed in a bag and left it on your doorstep, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:37, Reply)

Last one....
I went to an all boys school near Manchester with one or two "progessive" student teachers.

We went on a theatre trip to the Royal Exchange in Manchester to watch Treasure Island when I was about 13. Our English teacher (Miss Shiner for anyone who remembers her) took us all back to her house after the show where 4 thirteen year old boys spent the evening trying to look up her skirt and catch furtive glances of her tits whilst her boyfriend sat skinning up and listening to the Police (well it was 1982)

I can't quite remember why we went back to the house in the first place - maybe something else happened which I have subconciously erased from my memory to protect my mind...
(penrose your dog's got tits, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:33, Reply)

Brum - its bostin mate
Back in the seventies, my mate's dad visited some museum in Birmingham on a school trip.

On the guestbook, under "What did you think of the museum?" he wrote

"Its so bad I wouldnt let my dog go for a shit in here"
(tarbin tarbis, tarbit, tarbamus, tarbimus, tarbant, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:33, Reply)

Another Scout trip
Four of us were charged with Indecent Conduct on the way to a canoing competition at Lake Bala (North Wales for the geographically challenged).

We had popped out of the minibus, followed by an avalanch of lager cans, for a quick leak against a handy wall. It was only when we were collared in the act by an irate police woman that we realised we were actually pissing up the wall of Mold police station.

I've still got the official caution letter from North Wales Police as a trophy

They were obviusly torn between charging me with Indecent Conduct or Carrying an Offensive Weapon
(penrose your dog's got tits, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:23, Reply)

Norfolk People. Bless 'em.
I was on a school trip to London, all the way from sunny Norfolk. I think we were going to see Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead or some such play. Anyway, with us on the trip were a couple of third years (Year 9 to you youngsters I believe) when about ten minutes after the prerequisite pee and sandwich stop, one of these younger lads starts hollering that he needs the loo. The teachers, having only just ferried us back onto the bus, were understandably miffed and told him he'd have to wait for a bit. There's silence for about ten minutes, when all of a sudden this god awful screeching and wailing and nashing of teeh comes from the rear of the coach. Girls are sobbing and screaming, boys are howling and gagging. The bus screeches to a halt and we all turn around to see this lad, squatting over his lunch box, dropping into it the biggest, wettest coil of turd you have ever seen. After finishing his poo, he calmly pissed into the lunchbox (still squatting) and then walked the walk of shame down the bus to throw it out of the door. He didn't stay very long at our school after that.

Apologies, etc etc.
( bennyhillslovechild, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:20, Reply)

Oh my god
I've got so many stories I'm giddy that I want to share them with you all.

(I can hear the collective sigh already)

The final school trip I can remember was a CCF trip to Cornwall - 9 hours drive FFS!

Anyhoo....

I was the giddy rank of l/c and I was a good boy most of the time, but this time we'd all sneaked booze in from somewhere and as we were all 15 or something much drinking ensued.

The idiot thing I remember doing was ripping in half a coke can and saying "Look what happens when I run my finger over this metal thing". Cue a LOT of blood and I wrote my name in blood everywhere! 20 minutes later when the blood is STILL fountaining I figure that no good will come of it.

Don't remember how I stopped the bleeding though.

The gutting thing was that when I got back, I was given a Court Martial (read Kangaroo Court) for starting a fire in one of the billets. "I was nowhere near that billet at the time, I was too busy bleeding sah" - I didn't lose my rank but no more promotions followed....

Why is it that teachers assume you're guilty even when you've proved innocence??

More stories to come including 2 german exchange trips, an "educational" trip to Amsterdam (ha ha) to name but a few....
(james_tiger_woods is going to start his killing spree on the, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:17, Reply)

Not a school trip
but a Scout trip to Austria when I was fifteen

Highlights were:

First time pissed (on Jagermeister)
First Hangover (truly an epic experience when sleeping in a tent)
Felt my first set of breasts
Lost my V plates to owner of the breasts (Austrian girl called Doris - awful name but a vision in her Girl Guide uniform)

Did it all over again the following year when the Austrians came on an exchange visit



I give the guide uniforms a miss now though...
(penrose your dog's got tits, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:17, Reply)

Strasbourg
School exchange to Strasbourg and surrounding areas when I was 12, lovely family with two daughters the same age as me with holes in their pajamas. I digress.

After a sightseeing afternoon we had 2 hours of spare time and off we toddled, with no particular place to go. Ending up at the Catherdral. The Cathedral in Strasbourg is in a small square with a few shops running round it, one of these shops selling bangers, knives, shuriken and all sorts of things to make pyromaniacs blush with desire.

We fell upon the shop with glee. I purchased a small pack of 3 inch "Tigre Flash" bangers that had to be lit like a match. Eager to test out our new destructive power we headed down a side street next to the Cathedral. Spying a secluded spot behind a statue we lit a banger and tossed it. To untrained ears the bang was louder than we had expected. It reverberated around the street and made us all shit our pants. It had also blown a small hold in the soft sandstone of this statue. Shit.

We pegged it, dropping the bangers into a bin on the way. After a hasty meal at Mcdos (classy) we headed back to the meeting point. Only to be informed we were going to the Cathedral. Shit. To our utter horror the Gendarmes had closed off the square and the whole area. A teacher asked a copper what had happened, and he said they'd had several reports of a gunshot in this area. It was at that point, Nin (Narinder) threw up. He was scared for his life. Fortunatly the teachers didn't notice us sweating and put Nin's vomit down to the McDonalds. Scared the crap out of me.

Kaboom. Apologies for length, but been lurking for a while.
(Himjim died a little more inside on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:13, Reply)

Don't swim in the resevoir
A scorching hot day back in 1980 something and we all went to the Goyt valley for a geography field trip which basically involved following the course of a river into a resevoir.

We were explicitally told not to go into the resevoir as we all might die, so obviously the dares began.

I dare you, no I double dare you.

Anyway one thing led to another and myself and a friend ended up on a small ledge at the edge of the water and dared each other to jump in and swim about a bit, Never one to pass up a challenge in I went.

Cue irate teachers shouting at us to get out and how stupid we had been etc.. etc...

As a punishment thay made us sit at the front of the coach on the steps all the way back to the school, as you remember it was a hot day with the sun a shining, end result, sunburn over both my arms resulting in a couple of days off school.

I was banned from all future school trips following that little episode.

I don't need to put a length quote here, i'm comfortable with it.
(Twisted_firestormer, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:09, Reply)

On an Art Trip
A coach trip to London to some gallery thing.....

At school I thought it would be good to take art for GCSE as I thought it would be a total doss lesson and I could get away with doing no work.
I was right.

On the way to London everyone on the coach was getting lary as they do, throwing their sweets around and whatever, when someone found a plastic sign emblazened with the schoolchildren sign on it. It was decided we would break this sign by taking it in turns headbutting it to prove who was the hardest. (as you do). This proved to be very amusing and when it was broken someone (i cant remember who) was declared the hardest and as his reward was beaten by everyone at the back of the coach.

This surprisingly was not the highlight of the journey, oh no!

This came when we were driving past a policeman on a motorbike, we all decided to do our best moonies out the window at him, flip him the finger and what not which delighted one and all.

The best was yet to come though as the policeman had noted the details of the coach and proceeded to check the details and come to the school in person to bollock us about it!

We didn't mess about on the coach after that.
(Jimmy Large Is huffing Jenkem on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 13:04, Reply)