Biology Expedition to Egypt
Last summer the school ran a Biology expedition to Egypt. Everyone worked mega hard to raise enough cash to go and then we were off. Flew to Sharm el Sheikh where we were accosted by many street sellers and the international crazy frog.
Then into the heart of the desert for a weeks trek to an oasis where we conducted some research for t' government. Incredible time had by all watching the shooting stars fly over the desert sky while lying on your back sleeping on the bare sand. Then leave the desert for a week by the ocean staying in the Ras Mohammed National Park complete access to the sea whenever we wanted for snorkelling in the coral reef and fully catered for by the bedouins. Tents we were staying in about 10 metres from the shore.
Completely free diving course paid for by Operation Wallacea for all our hard work in the desert. Passing the diving course and diving in the Red Sea. Utterly blissful. Not forgetting for a second how lucky I am.

Unfortunately a group of absolute cnuts decided to ruin the fun when they blew apart some hotels for a laugh on the last night. Fortunately we werent in any of them but still a bit distressing when your sitting on the balcony, relishing your last night in such a place when theres a big KABOOM.

To the Egyptians credit the next morning we went for a walk to an internet cafe so we could let the folks back home know we were all fine when some policemen saw us. They instantly started apologising for what had happened and asking if we were all safe and did our parents know we were ok. Very nice folk.

Still. Cracking trip.

No apologies for length. You know you love it!
(vibrating tuna, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 17:04, Reply)

Ancient Greece
When I was a young and innocent 17 year old my convent school (bet you never realised I was an ex-convent girl….) organised a trip to Greece so that those doing the relevant A levels can get a really good taste of Greeks Greece…

We flew into Athens and spent the night there….opposite a brothel….(is it me or am I detecting a certain theme running through my stories….the sad thing is I haven’t made either of them up….). Anyway, so cue 10 rather ‘interested’ convent girls hanging out of the hotel windows trying to see what actually happens at brothel opposite….And cue certain ‘customers’ hoping to score with said convent girls…..I believe at that point one particularly ‘exhibitionist’ girl decided to show off some of her assets….Cue the ladies opposite getting very, very angry at possible trade being taken by nubile convent girls….

The following day we set off on a coach to Corinth, saw the ruins, pretended we were performing Euripides plays (see, a bit of culture for you there!). Then it’s onto the hotel where they have laid on a welcome party for us….This consists of the local band playing traditional music, lots and lots of Ouzo and then lots and lots of waiters dancing with hankies and then dancing with us….And Mother Superior…oh yes…didn’t I mention it? She’d come with us….Fortunately she went to bed early the previous night so missed out on our bit of fun….But not party night, oh no…And it turned out she was rather fond of ouzo….And started the dancing with the waiters…..I also discovered a predilection for ouzo and my recollection of the night is hazy, but I have it on good authority (from one of my oldest friends, Mad but lovely Jules – the one who pushes people off balconies) that I was rather friendly with most of the waiters…even the ones with moustaches….Eeeewwww!!!

A whistle-stop tour of the most famous sights of ancient Greece followed over the next week including running away from Spartan men who curb crawled us all over town one evening…..A narrow escape from a shop in Athens where the guy working there wanted to give myself and Jules a very personal present…he resorted to offering us money…we told him we were good Catholic girls…he didn’t believe us….

And the last and biggest problem involved the lovely Jules, again….

I was sharing a room with Ana…a very, very pretty South African girl, long blonde hair, the works, Jules is also a stunning blonde so they were attracting a great deal of attention when we went out – I have dark hair and dark eyes, typical Celtic colouring which meant that the Greeks were interested in me, but in Ana & Jules far more so….Oh, and they were fascinated by Fee…who comes from Cameroon ….So the four of us have been taking an early evening stroll around the town…we were instructed to always go out in groups of four or more….We had been curb crawled, leered at, whistled, etc. etc….And thought that we had escaped when we got back to the hotel….There on the fire escape is our fan club….6 very hairy Greek young men…hoping for the convent girls to open up the door and welcome them in….We run to our rooms….and think we’re safe…..

Three hours later I wake up to the hammering on mine and Ana’s door….open the door and there is Jules begging to come in because Fee has decided to sort the Greeks out….very loudly….in her and Jules room…..So Jules spends the night with me and Ana…..

Mother Superior never did find out why we kept swapping rooms….But they never ran a trip like that again……
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 17:04, Reply)

another geology trip classic
was the time me and a friend decided to go skinny dipping in lake windemere when thoughroughly off our faces
after three strokes i fortunately realised i was too drunk to swim, my friend somehow made it to the middle and back, but i opted to get out and wander round naked chatting to everyone for a while, sadly i'm too drunk to realise i'm naked and managed to have an argument with a lecturer and a security guard about it before someone finds my clothes for me..... at this point we wonder back to my caravan, and i take off my shoes and coat and put on someone elses, then we wonder on to a random party at his van, which is dull so i leave (minus shoes and coat) wander round for a bit, fail to find my own van, end up back at the party, and eventually leave with everyone else...

at some point in this experience, i manage to entirely cover my legs in blue paint (unless the bastards painted me while i was asleep) god knows where it came from
(skankgirl, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 17:04, Reply)

In primary school...
we went to a sewage treatment factory and walked around for a bit. It didn't have anything to do with any of the work we were doing, and we didn't even get a tour or anything, we had a shit time =]
When we came back, nobody ever spoke a word about it again...
(alwyn Professional Whittler since:, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 17:00, Reply)

vomiting, isnt it always
on an alevel biology field trip we all got a littel tipsy on the last night, as did the teachers, one of them came into the girls dorms to look for one of the boys who was missing after *lights out* as we were all playing cards, we hid him under the bed but he kept passing cards up from under the bed while the teacher was in the room, on account of having consumed a little too much fruit pickling alcohol (picking the bottle with the highest alcohol content on the back always seems sensible when your 17 and dont speak the language of the country you're in) and was soon discovered and ejected
at which point we got the teacher to do the big fish little fish cardboard box dance (made more impressive by how strict and boring the staff at my school are)
the following morning, we were having the final exercise of the week explained to us, it was biology, so i think this involved putting a quadrat on the floor and killing and weighing anything we found in it when my friend projectile vomitted at the back of the group, hilarious! bless her, she'd somehow managed to get up at 6 that morning to buy french pastries in spite of clearly having hte worst hangover in the world

i managed a similar feat some years later on a geology trip at uni (cringe) only i wasnt quite hardcore enough to get up at 6 to buy cake before i went to look at rocks
(skankgirl, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:59, Reply)

Much as you're probably sick of my "band camp" stories...
Here are a selection of incidents from my youth orchestra years.

* Coach driver introduced himself at the beginning of the tour thus: "Hello, my name is Ian and I'm your coach driver for the week. There is to be no drinking, no chewing gum, no standing up, no shouting, etc etc...."

Within a few hours, Ian was racing the other coach, flooring it down narrow country lanes, going several times round roundabouts so that the coach was practically on two wheels, and we were all racing up and down the aisle, drinking like fishes, shouting, I-AN, I-AN, I-AN!

* I had to share a room with a girl who was immediately institutionalised for having severe bipolar disorder as soon as we got back home. She swung from mania to depression within hours of one another, barely slept for the whole week, ensuring that I got hardly any sleep either. And she was so deranged she forgot to do basic things like washing, so by the end of the week she absolutely stank to high heaven. Poor girl.

* We stole a cello from the LPO. No really, we did. www.b3ta.com/questions/rockandrollstories/post57610/

* Conductor was a dirty bastard, as was this pianist who played with us a lot. Between them they got off with just about every underage girl in the orchestra....but neither of them EVER tried it on with me! Goddammit what the hell is wrong with me?! Okay, so I blatantly would have told them to cock off, but it's always nice to feel wanted...

Can’t think of anything else at the moment…but I always thought it was a funny image, the line of respectable, middle class parents waving goodbye to their nice, well-brought-up offspring thinking we’d be well looked after for the week. As if!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:52, Reply)

School Daze - Happy Days.
Well I have numerous stories and Milknosugar off here may have been at some of them.

Year 8 (1986) we went to the Lake District and the massive white trainer Jonny loud stitch jean wearing Mr Lovell is lecturing us halfway up a fucking mountain.

In the distance you can hear a jet coming, getting nearer and nearer till this Lea (sp) private jet flies over, Mr Lovell shouts "Look kids a Mig 29"

Yes you fucking cunt, Russian tactical fighters have been granted airspace to practice low level flying in the Lakes, cue me and several others not letting him forget it until 1990.

School trip to Italy (1989) got pissed in the hotel which was owned by a spitting image of Mario, who had twin 16 year old daughters who were fucking gorgeous. Cue me getting caught by him as I am practicing "Upside Down DJ'ing" on one of them. The next day we were going on a trip to Verona to see that poncy Romeo and Juliets balcony, however the weather turned shite and the teacher said on the mic on the coach - "Theres been a change of plan" - "boooo" "We are going to the San Siro" - YES - The Milan derby - fucking winner - met up with 2 Inter Milan fans who took me out that night back in Lido de Jesolo -

Wankered? - I was wrecked for days - I swear I got spiked - However all was not lost as we met up with Mario's daughters and I fucking rattled her on a lilo on di Jesolo beach.

Apologies for length - UP yer arse - Ill rape you.
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:42, Reply)

Mine were always quite dull....
But when my sisters went to school on the other hand...

One of the teachers, reddy pink of skin, pigtailed of hair, and somewhat plump went by the nickname of Miss Piggy for obvious reasons. Miss Piggy was something of an amateur dramatist (despite being a Science Teacher) and on one school trip apparently took a particular fancy to the coach driver, though fuck knows how if he was anyhting like the coach drivers I've encountered.

After flirting outrageously for most of the journey, she sees her moment to really impress... A fellow teacher spills his drink. "I'll get it!" she shouts, whipping off her skirt so the coach driver can get a full view (and the rest of the class) to use it as a makeshift mop. Of course, she hadn't reckoned on spending the rest of the journey either in a damp skirt or her knickers, and certainly hadn't thought about what this would look like when faced wtih the parents of the kids...

Amazingly she kept her job and 15 years later was my Science teacher in school... As soon as she found out who my sisters were I started to do pretty well in Science...
( Sonic James Doom forgetting the date since... umm..., Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:42, Reply)

scumbum vs railways, banks and cambridge dons
This will be quite long.. (fnar fnar)

I have just arrived home from my interview to do Philosophy at Queens College Cambridge, after an ordeal in which I triumphed over every cricumstance that could have been engineered against me.

I started tuesday unsure of where I was sleeping once I arrived whether I did actually have a reserved room at Queens or would be staying at my uncles, but I was at least fairly confident of getting to cambridge using my mums cash card.

On tuesday morn I woke up and called the college, they said they did have my booking and that was ACE.

Then I went to the first bank machine I walked past on the way to the station and tried to get money out. WRONG PIN NUMBER. Thats cool though, I'm not worried yet and I have a half hour wait at ManPic anyway. So I decided to try again from manchester and call mummy from a payphone because I had no credit because I couldnt get money out because I didnt have the correct pin.

I spent 3 of my 7 quid payphoning my mum and only got her answer phone.

At this point I only have 4 quid of my own money left for a potentially 60 pound train journey. So I rang superbestfriend Daniel and got him to ring me back, then we had to go through all the rigmarole of ordering a fast ticket collection over the net because you dont need a pin number. So I missed the train I wanted but I did have a ticket.

Except the machine said I didnt have a ticket.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck

So I tried all the machines and they all said no. So I started to panic. What must one do in a time of panic? Remember your primary school education thats what. So I went and asked a grown up. Who told me that it would take 3-4 hours to prcess. In the end it only took 2. So that was excellent.

I got on the train with no money left to get the one stop connection from Ely to Cambridge which you're not allowed to book online for some reason. And I still had no means of phoning ahead.

So I turn on my notoriously devastating charm (just ask ya mam, spouse, or lover if you dont believe me) and eventually the woman I sat let me send messages asking for a lift off my uncle. Except my uncle replies and says he doesnt have a car.

Minor moment of panic but then he agrees to pay for my ticket from ely and come and get me in person. Immediately after this my mum called me having just got my message 6 hours after I left it. She HAD told me the wrong pin number and the 4 digits i'd written on my chest in marker pen were indeed useless.

So eventually I got to Queen's and the actual interview went pretty well. The journey back passed without much incident.

And there endeth the most stressful 3 days of my life to date.
(scumbum, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:34, Reply)

Blind
We had a history teacher at my progressive sixth form college who rode to school on a tandem bicycle with his flatmate who was also a teacher. Anyway, although he taught history he came along on a geography field trip to Dorset for the fun of it. There was a girl on the trip who had enormous knockers and the history teacher went to her room before supper (can't remember why - but do know it was innocent). He knocked and she asked who it was, she was getting changed but let him in because he is blind. He stayed a few minutes and then joined the rest of us downstairs in the bar. When she joined us everyone cheered. She asked why and was told that he had seen her with nothing on. She said "But you are blind!" his retort? "Not THAT blind!"
(Superene, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:28, Reply)

MUMS!
Make sure your child is socially fucked for years not weeks, by packing 2 pairs of unisex plastic underpants 'just in case' on a 'Schools Abroad' trip to France...
(David Fishwick Minibus Sales - notmad.co.uk, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:27, Reply)

Ooh . . .
So many memories . . .

Aged 10 - Geography field trip to the Yorkshire Dales, Mr. O'Herlihy was pulled over just as we were passing Birmingham, he was done for speeding and towing a trailer in the fast lane. Oh, how we laughed!

Aged 16/17 - Christmas Theatre trip to see Grease, everyone got sh*t faced before getting on the coach which got stuck in traffic. Coach driver couldn't stop and the chemical toilet was broken, so we ended up passing round a large bucket, which everyone, all boys, took turns pissing in, it stank, spilled everywhere and was poured in the gutter right outside the theatre infront of the large queue.

Aged 15 - CCF, Tregantle, Cornwall, Mr. Monk hit a large pheasant and drove around for the rest of the week with the huge bird strapped, spread eagle, across the bonnet of the Land Rover, it's head repeatedly banging on the radiator. I'll never forget that sound.

Mr. Monk and his colleague of equal CCF rank, Dr. Baird never saw eye to eye, I was not on the exercise when 'it' happened. Apparently someone threw a 'Flash Bang' grenade at Dr. Baird who retaliated with heavy machine gun fire at very close range. Mr. Monk was demotted from Captain and never went on exercise again. The shouting of 'Grenade' in a Northern Irish accent has gone down in School law!

Aged 15/16 - D Of E Bronze Award, We had to take an alternative route as the cliff path we wanted to use had collapsed into the sea. We saved Matt Nimmo's life when he fell from two metres with a heavy pack, onto his forehead. I lifted up his hat to inspect the wound and a large flap of his forehead came with it, we found the nearest farm house and sat waiting for the minibus with lots of tea and biscuits. He had to have stuff injected into the hole in his head to plug the gaps.

Aged 16 - D of E Bronze expedition deepest darkest Dartmoor, stupidly let the toff kid Chris read the map, without checking he was right. All he had to do was follow the road and say when we reached the third footpath on the right, which should lead us up a hill. I should have checked. We ended up walking an extra ten miles in near monsoon conditions. When I realised that he didn't know where the feck we were and was trying to cover up his mistake by saying, "only a little bit further", I had to take charge. We took the next footpath which led us up a near verticle slope through thick vegetation with strange ruins on either side, it looked like something from a 'Nam film. We reached the top and found a farmhouse with some lights on inside. The farmers wife kindly let us in (soaked through & caked in mud and various animals sh*t) so that I could use their phone, she made the five of us cups of tea and pointed me in the direction of the phone. The phone was in a cubicle in the hall way and as I dialled the emergency school number I noticed that the farmer/farmers wife had covered the entire inside of the cubicle with pictures of, I hope, their son and daughter. There on the wall in various states of maturity were pictures of the son playing his guitar, the most recent he looked about 15-16 and was completely naked. The pictures of the daughter showed her going through puberty getting bigger and bigger breasts. The most recent being of her swathed in a length of see through cloth in an 'arty' pose. Now I have to admit, that I was quite naive to such things as Naturists or just people who like to take pornographic images of their own, back then, and it freaked me out and turned me on at the same time! I went back into the kitchen where Chris had demanded that he be allowed to read the farmers fresh, pressed copy of The Times as "he hadn't seen the news in days" Now, I wanted to get out of that farmhouse as fast as I could, but Chris was starting to get comfortable. When the poor farmers' wife offered him a rich tea biscuit, he exclaimed, "oh no, do you not have any chocolate ones, I only like the chocolate ones!" About five minutes later the kitchen door opens and a bear of a man walks in and surveys his beautiful, large, stone kitchen in his farmhouse castle. Not only did he look pissed off that his wife had let us into his kitchen, but his face actually went bright red with anger when he saw the crumpled paper and then flipped. "Those are my chocolate biscuits!" he shouted,"I've been saving those!" We were out the door and crammed into his Land Rover in seconds, he very kindly dropped us back at the bottom of the hill we should have walked up ten miles previously, to find the local bobby and his dog shouting at the rest of the D Of E groups who had arrived on time and proceeded to destroy the campsite and peace and quiet of what would have been a lovly bit of England. I regret not stealing an arty picture of the daughter.

Aged 16/17 - D Of E Silver, Expedition to the Yorkshire Dales. For some stupid reason I thought it a good idea to bring my own tent for my sole use. After a night in a lovly country pub I woke up, in my tent shivering, I had on every available item of clothing but was still freezing. We packed up camp and I cooked tea and super noodles to try and get warm again. The moment we got up on the hills it started to piss it down. 4 hrs later, I'm soaked through and starting to lag behind, my mate Oli gives me a bottle of whisky and I downed half the bottle and carried on. The weather never let up and just got worse, out of the mist we saw a small hut which we soon found contained the rotting corpse of a sheep that had been attacked by something with big sharp claws. It smelt bad, but at least we were out of the cold wind and rain. I managed to make it another 5 miles or so before I was completely out of it, I was slurring my speech, could hardly walk and was shaking uncontrollably, I was suffering from Hypothermia. A few miles on, a school minibus appeared out of the mist and I was pulled, after much argueing, off the hills. I was pissed off because I was not able to complete the expedition and therefor the Silver Award. To add insult to injury, the two teachers were equally pissed off as we had disturbed them (the whole school new of their affair), they took me to a tea rooms car park in the middle of nowhere, Mr. C. went and got me a hot cuppa while Mrs. S. ordered me to strip off my wet clothes. My hands were numb and I was by now fully incoherant, so she undressed me, right infront of a group of shocked and staring pensioners. I was so embarrised, but apparently lucky to have survived!

Apologies for length and grammer, see at least i'm polite!
( 42 Loves Teh Funphenschnaffles, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:26, Reply)

Finally a QOTW I Can answer
Had a college trip last week to London, stayed in Regents Palace hotel, smack bang in Piccadily Circus...so within 10 minutes of checking in, 2 lads returned to their room to pick up stuff for the day they'd forgotten to find during this 10 minutes out of the room theyd had hundreds of quid worth of camera equipment nicked and all one guys clothes. Later in the evening we noticed the room directly across the hall from our own had all the locks smashed out and the room had been turned upside down, and heard rumour some other people on the trip had more stuff stolen from rooms during the day. All door frames have big suspicious chips around them, homeless folk sleep in the unattended reception during the night, our floor had 3 showers for 200+ beds, and I have the nickname Curtains now after someone noticed the top layer of my bed sheets were same pattern as the curtains in their room, and closer inspection revealled they were indeed curtains, hooks and all...funny hotel I say.
(Pigmash, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:25, Reply)

French Exchange
Whilst on my french exchange in year 10 (4th year) a group of us decided to sample the local explosives. cue a group of us walking round with a rucksack full of bangers, in every size and variety. the geek of the group had his measly stash confiscated by teachers, so he decided to bring us down as well. we were given an advance warning from one of the girls on the trip and went into a cafe to distribute them about us. we were walking bombs. the teacher confiscated the bag, which had a few unconcealable ones left in, i.e 140 bangers. luckily that was only a small amount of the total. the next night we met up in this park and put a load of them in a bin. we then put a couple of firelighters on the underside of the lid, lit, and run. we were about a hundred meters away when it began to go off. it was fairly pathetic. loud, but pathetic. that is, in comparison to the septic tank! don't think the school has a link with their collège anymore...
(slurry apologises, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:24, Reply)

U-bends aint for crawling....
It's 2004 and the bods at our Comprehensive decide to treat the Year 11's studying History to an educational trip to Warkworth Castle. Great.

We were given clipboards so we could take notes on the castle but the idea that these were going to be used for anything other than tomfoolery went out the window when we spied the massive fucking moat that surrounded the castle. Cue around 25 lads flying down the side of the moat standing on clipboards. The ones who made it to the bottom were worshipped, the ones who didn't were knee capped by the next oncoming batch of hyperactive 16 year olds that fancied themselves as an all weather Shaun Palmer.

The highlight of the day came when my history teacher decided that he'd crawl into the gap underneath one of the toilets in the castles to show how spacious it was. Apparently he did this with every year group to sarcastic gasps of amazement but this year he must've been hitting the Ale a bit too hard as he got stuck in the primitive u-bend.

First he laughed....

Then we laughed....

Then he paniced....

Then we laughed somemore....

Then he pleaded with us to get a guide....

Then we laughed somemore....

Then he finally managed to wriggle out of his own accord. The rest of the trip was spent with a mildly embarrased History teacher trying to accost us for not helping him out.

He soon shut up on the coach home when word got round the other groups that he'd got stuck in a toilet trying to show off and impress a bunch of 16 year olds.

EDIT: I'm forgetting alot about this trip.

One lad went into a field close to the castle to go cow tipping but slipped in a pile of cow shite and got it all over his mid 90's-esque popper tracksuit bottoms. He had to go and get cleaned up and sit in the coach for the rest of the afternoon as punishment.

A mates ex was none to pleased about the flirtatious manner he was acting with his new prospective lass and decided to write a letter to her friend about the coach trip back where she slagged off nearly everyone on the coach. Her friend sold her out and copies of the letter were around the school in no time. I was plesantly suprised that all she said about me was 'needs a haircut'.
(Peter Sutcliffe's Right Bollock, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:24, Reply)

I dreamt that I was dressed in a girlfriends dress
giggling immensely, absolutely fried in french.
I knew droping acid wasn't the best idea for the last day of term.

Turns out, it wasn't a dream. But it made me infamous anyway.

(Weirdest school trip by a mile!)
(Retters Sturdy as hell, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:15, Reply)

Ayr
We went on a weekend Hosteling trip to Ayr when I was at primary school, I won't mention which one, it's closed, but the extremely gorgeous blonde big breasted teacher who took us still works as a teacher.

There was about 30, 11 year olds all running around playing soldiers etc, when about 10 of us decided to crawl/advance upon the hostel in a sneak attack.

We slowly crawled up to the dormitory window and got to our knees ready to wreak havock on the poor unfortunates in the room, only to be greeted by the sight of our female teacher, naked, giving the male teacher, also naked, a blow job. cue much laughing and pointing while she attempted to cover her shame.

We got a stern talking to about privacy and were threatened with the belt.

Still I used that was wanking fodder for years, till my girlfriend let me see/touch hers.
(hudster, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:09, Reply)

Lassie Come Home
Like every unfortunate Yorkshire child of the 80's, one of our school trips consisted of us getting in a coach and travelling no more than 20 miles to the local pit (you know, so we can see where all our families used to work before Thatcher made them all poor and bitter).

We have fun, going down the pit, having a look around the coal museum (again, I am from Yorkshire..) and playing on the swings. Time to go home, and we all pile on the coach. Sensible Teacher counts all the heads..30 children. We set off.

Half way home an almighty racket ensues! There is a dog on the bus! Dog gets let off at park, a few kids are bollocked, one cries, the usual. We set off.

When we get back our parents are waiting to meet us, for it is 3.30 and working past this time is unthinkable. We are all greeted by our parents..apart from Mr and Mrs Cosgrove who are (slightly frantically) searching for little Simon, a ginger kid who was good at the piano. 'Everyone was on the coach when we left the colliery' says Sensible Teacher. Until she is called into the school by the headteacher, with the parents. Oh dear. What has happened to poor Simon!?

Turns out Simon was in the pit gift shop buying an oversized pencil when the coach left. How did Sensible Teacher count all 30 heads..yes, it is shamefully so.

She counted a fucking DOG as a kid. A DOG!

Fuck screening for paedophiles and murderers. There should be a tick box option for anyone applying for a job in a school. A picture of a kid with the caption 'what is this'? If she writes 'DOG' then burn her CV!!
(Northern Lovely, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:09, Reply)

So we went on this school trip
And me and two mates, Dave and Mike, bunk off with this girl, Amy, who was a year young than us. We found this little forest and started messing about it in, pushing each other over and stuff...........
(you're all a bunch of twats anyway, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:06, Reply)

Send forth all legions!
The thing I hated most about school trips were the horrible blow they often were to the imaginations of small children.

"Right today, we are going to visit the Roman Legion fort and amphitheatre at Carleon" we were told.

"Wow!" We all thought. How exciting and were all really keen. How impressed the teachers were at our enthusiasm. What they had forgotton was how imaginative small children can be. We were honestly expecting to see gladiators, lions eating christians and a big fort, fully stocked with Roman soldiers.

What we got were some lumps in a field and a few low stone walls on a wet and windy Welsh day. I have no idea why I did an A level in Archaeology some years later after such a disappointment. Our first field trip was to Carleon.

Another time, half the year of seven year olds got taken to Goodrich castle (quite a good one with much opportunity for running around like a mad thing and climbing battlements and general mayhem).

The other half got taken to some music and movement interpretitive dance bollocks.

Guess which trip I got sent on? Go on guess.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:03, Reply)

Anvil
As part of our history lessons, we were taken to see a blacksmith working at an old-fashioned smithy. Cue: fiery furnace and a huge, hairy-armed bloke pelting away at near-molten metal with a giant hammer on his anvil.

The time came when it went interactive and the blacksmith asked for a helper. I volunteered to hit a red hot bar with the hammer while he turned it accordingly. Only the bloody thing was so heavy I needed two hands to lift it, and on the downward stroke I missed the anvil entirely.

I dropped the hammer on his foot. This caused him to scream "You little fucking prick!" in a rather uneducational manner while hopping around with a glowing rod in his gloved hand.

The last thing I heard as I fled the smithy in fear was my teacher Mr Biggin trying to placate the man:

Biggin: "I'm sure he didn't mean it.
Blacksmith: "I'm gonna rip the little bastard a new arse!
(frankspencer, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 16:03, Reply)

Sewage Works
Someone had the bright idea that it would be a good idea to take a class of 9 year olds to a sewage works.
Half way round we were shown a "sludge tank" full of "cleaned" shit. So clean, in fact, that the bloke showing us around picked some up in his hand. As soon as his back was turned, pockets were filled...cue one hour later the biggest shite-fight you've ever seen on the bus back to school. Don't think they went back the next year...Also went to Edinburgh Zoo, where Esther Ranzen was filming for That's Life...what a fucking bitch she was.
(Chillumm, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:57, Reply)

Bad man
I would like to formally nominate Cowbridge Comprehensive School in South Wales for the shittest ideas of school trips in the UK. Such highlights included Slimbridge wildlife trust, West Midland Safari Park, and the royal fcuking tattoo. I ask you. The most fun on any of these was doing the smoking trial, sparking up a bifter and seeing how long it took for the teacher's head at the front to turn round with a scowl. Generally about 7 seconds.

Someone got a can of shandy bass confiscated once - apparently booze is booze, however weak as piss it may be.
(RickGrimes Quite frankly, disappointed on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:54, Reply)

Doing a trip in style
OK, I was sponsored by an Armed Force throughout university (who I then left just after I graduated, and have finally paid back). As part of your experience in the forces, they take you to all sorts of wonderful places, including Skiing. 10 days in Bavaria, with flights, accommodation, ski lift hire, equipment and tuition for £400 is fucking fantastic. So I went!
The hostel we stayed at was great, except for the fact that we were two beds to a room, and I was sharing with the short ginger lad, and we had a shower physically in our room. The skiing was fucking awesome, and the drinking afterwards was heroic! The best hangovers are to be had in the mountains. Fresh air does you wonders. Highlights of the trip:
Walking into my room, Ginger banging away, walking back out of my room, and sleeping in the bed of the person who is doing the Ginger. Wake up the following morning, and my now female (and attractive room-mate) doesn't even notice it's me in the other bed, as she gets up naked, and walks to the bathroom (Thank you Jesus!)
One Irish guy in our group pulls a married woman, takes her back to his hotel, starts going at it. His room-mate walks in, and the Irishman pipes up "don't mind us", keeps going, as the room-mate falls asleep on his bed to the sound of noisy doggy style! (Guys, names aren't named, only the guilty know who they are!)
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:50, Reply)

Geneva
At age 16, went on a physics trip to geneva, where it's legal to purchase alcohol at 16, no quibbles.
Cue going absolutely MENTAL in the city, ending up running round the red light district popping our heads into brothels and strip clubs, and shouting 'bonsoir!' and then popping out.

All was going well, until at one brothel I was accosted by a prostitute who literally DRAGGED me off to a private room, offering herself for 100 euros.. I declined saying I had no money, she was quite insistant...
I slipped out of her grasp and got out of the private room to find my friend asking of a large bouncer 'je cherche le harry', and on seeing me said 'le harry! au revoir' and we pegged it.

Cue running the fuck away from this massive bouncer, throwing piles of boxes over behind us to slow him down. We eventually lost him... thank fuck

:D
(comrade^, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:49, Reply)

A seagull...
...shat copiously in the fur-trimmed hood of my snorkel jacket. I had already formed the opinion that Robin Hood's Bay was a) uninteresting and b) too bastard steep for its own good, but - at age 11 - being stuka'd by a malicious cunt of a shitehawk left me with a phobia of the place I have never since conquered.
The 'sympathy' of my peers didn't help either (except Jonathan Drake - he got a faceful of the splashback...).
(testmeuk, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:45, Reply)

Another residential
My 2nd/third were uneventful, except that the 3rd/4th were at High Force, and I wholly recommend that place! They have an in the trees obstacle course! And the diffuse the bomb exercise was fun!

On the 4th residential, now talking yr10, proper grown ups stuff, we're talking into the caves near high force. Ooooh that's so much fun, especially crossing a crevice by pushing your body against one wall using your hands and knees. Except of course when one girl decided she didn't like how her hands were getting wet, and slipped into the crevice. Ruining that part of the trip for the rest of the people who hadn't gone over the crevice yet, as the teachers spent half an hour fishing her out of that thing.
Also, we built rafts, sailed them on the river, got thoroughly wet, and then of course had to change before we could travel back to camp. The girls had to change in the Land-Rover (which has windows) and the guys by the river. Well lets just say that the windows did their job nicely!

Shame I never went on any Residentials in school after that!
( DavyBoyInGravyJoy Grey Goose Vodka on Ice, nothing finer, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:38, Reply)

I wasn't going to post this, but I have been persuaded to...
Many years ago, while young, fit and (more) attractive I went on a University trip with a group of other students. Niall and I decided to room together in the apartment booked by the Uni, being great mates and partners in crime.

Niall and I, I should mention, had some weeks before spent an entire week closeted in my living room, surrounded by booze etc, leaving only for toilet breaks and showers. It was a hard week. I should also clarify we were solely friends and no manlove was on the agenda.

Now, we were away for several nights and decided that we would be well advised to take a stash with us, as well as a stereo and other assorted luxuries. Particularly vodka.

One evening we decided to dodge our more focussed colleagues and go out for a night. We subsequently found the grimiest hard house club we could, and ate our stash, spending the night dancing and prancing and having enormous fun.

About 10 minutes from closing I volunteered to get the coats, leaving Niall with a friendly warning against pulling a fat bird. I said this jokily as, after all, we were sharing a room and there had been no hint of ogling during the night.

At this juncture it is appropriate to mention that Niall had a taste for the, erm, larger lady (size 20+). Suffice to say, when I returned he had a bloater in tow. Doom. To compound the situation, she had brought a friend for me. More Doom.

These girls, as well as being (in my view) physically unappealing, were also rough as you like, coming from one of the rougher council estates in the area and in the taxi back were loudly debating "oo'd fucked the most blurks".

Niall rubbed his hands with glee at pulling a dirty bloater. I was polite, but inwardly terribly distressed.

We arrived back at the room, and Niall and his girl displayed an impressive abandon, having a good passionate snog and grope while I adjusted the stereo, made tea and made polite conversation with the girl nominated for me, who was beginning to regard me with that look you see on the face of a hungry lion when faced with a defenceless child.

My avoidance techniques didn't work, and as Niall and his partner began to remove clothes and get down to business it was impossible to dodge having a snog, all the while trying to remain aloof and uninterested.

Then it happened. Niall noticed I wasn't terribly keen on the girl I had been lumbered with. He made an inappropriate joke, and left me trying desperately for a clever and witty comment that wouldn't a) ruin his shag or b) leave me looking stupid.

I was saved, however, by his partner. Clearly believing herself to be stunning, and irresistable bait. she chimed in with a loud "Oo's up forra foursome?"

My squeak of horror was matched only by Niall's squeak of excitement. "Come on mate, let's go for it!" he said. "Eeeerrrrrrrr", I replied, eloquently. "Come on, it's not that I want to see your cock, but how often do you get offered a foursome with two birds! Look, I'll tell people yours was fit if they ask!"

And that, I'm afraid to say, did it. Off came the clothes and on I hopped. Away we went, and four hours later I felt dirty, used, regretful yet quite proud to have had a foursome. In a dirty kind of way.

We sneaked them out about 6.30am and retired to bed, thrilled to have achieved the perfect crime.

Or not.

The next morning the others in the apartment gave us a round of applause, mixed with catcalls and abuse. The supervising lecturer had a smile on his face and asked how the evening had been, along with a rebuke for not seeing the group that night, before adding "Mind you, it seems that you found yourself something else to do".

Sadly, we hadn't realised how noisy we were when discussing what we'd do, or how noisy we were while doing what we did.

Still, we had a foursome!
( disasterprone "Pyjamas caused the Holocaust", Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:32, Reply)

Why I don't drink spring water
The only school trip that stands out to me was a visit to the lake district when I was a young boy of 10.

There were many tales of interest, such as every single meal consisting primarily of onion, or "some kid"* crying/snotting into his tea, which he then drank, simply because he didn't like onion.

However, the one story that stands out was when we were hiking in the hills. We'd been gone a few hours, and most people were quite thirsty so they started filling up their bottles from a small stream.

Their thirst quenched, we continued upstream about 20 meters and marveled at nature's bounty. We were then greeted by the sight of a rotting sheep's carcass nestling in the clear, crisp water, its intestines showing for all the world to see.

That's what you get for bottling your own water.

* It wasn't me. Definitely not...
(Wogan, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 15:27, Reply)