My eyes! My eyes!
Year 6 school camp to some run-down dump in the hills outside Adelaide, South Australia where there was bugger all to do aside from play on the decrepit play equipment next to the prison-like accomodation... so seconds after arriving, off we go and play.
Best fun was found on the giant "witches hat" which is like a cone of metal bars resting on a large pole that you could hang off/spin around at high speed, causing much hilarity as various kids spun off the thing crashing in the dirt, got slammed by the spinning metal (it must have weighed about two tonnes, no kidding, it was made of old railway lines) and so on.
About half an hour in, by which time all the students had tried it out, one started rubbing his eyes.
Then another one started. And another. And another etc etc etc.
By lunchtime, the overworked school nurse had given up and called an ambulance, by dinnertime the entire camp had been emptied by a series of busses taking 40 or so kids to hospital to have tiny flakes of rusted metal removed from their eyeballs.
Everyone ended up with at least one eyepatch, more than half had both eyes covered and the whole year was absent for about three weeks as we recovered.
Still it wasn't as bad as the time we went on a trip to go skiing and the school floozy promised I could put my hand down her pants once we were there... and then one of the teachers fell ill at the last minute and was replaced by a parent. Mine.
( difficultchild, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 5:20, Reply)

A person actually died when I was at camp.
When I was 9 years old, at a camp (can't remember the name) in good ol' New Zealand, one of my class-mates, Steven Hawkey, drowned. I wasn't one of his close friends, and I wasn't too sad, but... damn. I remember sitting in my cabin with some other people and my mum was saying that he was curled up somewhere, asleep. (Or something like that).

Anyway, afterwards, nine-year-olds weren't allowed to go to school camp and there's now a memorial garden at my old school. (Devonport Primary, if anyone's interested).

Edit: First post, so be gentle (etc).
(GLC, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 4:07, Reply)

The special button
When we were about 15 we were sent on a school trip to tour HMS Illustrious which was docked in Portsmouth. Upon arrival we were duly split into groups and trundled in different directions around the ship.

When our group got to the bridge the spotty sailor in charge said we could play around as everything was off. Cue me discovering the best button on board: the one with the little plastic cover that you have to lift in order to press it.

Pretending I was about to launch a missile I lifted the cover, gave myself a suitable Thunderbirds-style countdown and pressed.

For a millisecond nothing happened, then it all went a bit crazy. Things started bleeping, alarms started buzzing and our guide went a bit pale.

The captain ran up to the bridge and we were all hurriedly escorted onto the deck. Turned out that some of the emergency buttons weren’t as off as they could have been and I’d just put the whole of the Naval Base, and therefore the whole of the British Navy, on red alert.

It seems that I’d found the equivalent of the ship's panic button.

Two things happen when you press the button. The first is that it sends a signal saying “we’re under serious fucking attack – help!” the second is that it starts up some super radar thingy that, if used on land, would have sterilised all the women in Portsmouth.

Surely, stopping the local Pompey chavs from breeding (and I say this as a local) would have been worthy of the freedom of the city… but no, we were escorted off the ship by armed guard and our school was banned on the spot from ever setting foot on board again.




As a postscript – it was a crappy ban. Three years later I was a journalist and the captain of Illustrious contacted our newspaper to invite one of us on a press trip to the Gulf. Guess who went…



Penis length is fine, I just can’t get anyone pregnant…
( DickieDoesDallas eshews witty slogans, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 2:43, Reply)

Outdoor Centre pt II
A particularly traumatic period of my life which until now had receeded into the deepest, darkest part of my memory has unfortunately been brought to the surface by Chickenwire's submission...

Every two years my school would send us off for a couple of nights at the Waterknott ODC for a sesh of "team-building" exercises in some god-forsaken dale(read: series of utterly demoralising forced hikes with permanently sodden underwear). Said demon-cum-geography teacher would gleefully march us around for hours and hours whilst enthusiastically pointing out such greats as High Force waterfall (it's just water falling for God's sake) and the excellent employment of arable farming techniques (no, it's just a bunch of bloody sheep in a field).

However, the culmination of this jolly affair was the fabled night hike in which we'd venture out in the pitch black, armed with torches that might as well have been solar-powered, compasses that'd been stored on top of magnets and OS maps from the 70s which ominously declared most of the surrounding area to be an Army testing range. Not to mention the huge reservoir, which on a cloudy night was pretty much invisible!

To cap it all off, we'd be sent out in groups of 4-5 and told to follow a pretty ropey orienteering course... whilst being stalked from afar by said geography teacher. Perhaps my most memorable experience of the night hike was when one of my mates claimed to have stood in the mightiest of all cowpats, and on closer inspection turned out to be a rotting sheep carcass.

Apologies for length - but it's blatantly Chickenwire's fault...

*pop*
(Rikardo Montavon, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 1:09, Reply)

Chermany
When I was about 12 or so I went to Germany on a minibus from Staffordshire with the scouts and the fad among us at the time was Iron Maiden. Our bus driver (c. 1989) was a fairly butch female, stocky of stature, bleached of hair and brown of root named Tracy. One of the kids drew a picture of Iron Maiden's mascot Eddie with a speech bubble saying "DON'T FUCK WITH MY BUS".

This was found by her and many angry words were shared.

arserape scouts joke here
(FiftyFour, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 1:01, Reply)

I spent a week at Pendarren...
which is in Abergavenny in Wales. It's an outdoor persuits place where you get to do a whole host of miserably wet activities such as caving, mountaineering and canoeing. The activity in question was orienteering. The site was located on a steep incline and it being Wales, was wet and muddy. Orienteering ensued and on the way back I was struck by absolute terror in descending the slippery slope. I kept falling parts of the way down the hill and was covered in mud as a result. Eventually I simply refused to move. This was about a metre above the fucking road. I could have jumped it... but no. I wasn't moving for anyone! My friends fetched the teacher and after almost an hour of him attempting to coax me down, I finally made it to the safety of the tarmac.
Naturally my entire team were livid with me and refused to talk to me. Funnily enough we still won.. by a margin of 5 points. I'd managed to lose the team over 100 points but the others were so badass that my complete ineptness was of no consequence. They still hated me though.
Sorry for length but I'm a shit girl!
(jeaneye, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 0:55, Reply)

Barcelona!
The most memorable trip ever was the year 11 trip to Barcelona, in an attempt by the language department to improve our Spanish speaking skills. I've mentioned said trip before and here are some more occurances from that magical week.

First day at the hotel, we had to wait for an hour and a half before we could move in, as there were rumours of a gas leak in the building. Cue the most paranoid of the three fellers I was sharing with insisting he could smell gas when we got to our room. To shut him up I strode over to the free matchbook and with an announcement of "Let's check for gas, shall we?" proceeded to strike one. Our fearful friend nearly shat himself, and practically launched himself, bodyguard-style at me. I merely laughed and blew the tiny, utterly non-lethal flame out with a calm utterance of "There we go. Perfectly safe."

Later that day I was standing on the bed by the window to get a better view, and decided to get back to my bed, on the other side of the room, by jumping from one to the other across the room. The middle beds were fine, nicely bouncy, but landing on mine I was greeted by an almighty crack and we discovered that whilst the middle two beds had springs, the outer two were supported by wooden slats, one of which I had just snapped in two. I tucked the splintered bits of wood under the matress further down, and spent the rest of the trip hiding the fact that my bed now sagged in the middle.

By far the best event however was when the teachers decided to leave the entire crowd of us on the beach while they buggered off to the pub. As you would expect, disaster struck when we buried the gas-fearing member of our group (known to us as Coleman) up to his neck. Which was all well and good, until another mate (who we shall call Ed, it being his name) threw sand into his face. Coleman shot up like a flash, and stormed around in an angry rage for the next half hour trying to enact revenge by pounding Ed ineffectively in the back. The fun only ended when another schoolmate laid Coleman out with a swift punch. At which point some poor sod had the task of finding our very responsible teachers.

Many more fun things happened, but I can't recall them right now. Nonetheless, it was the most fun I've ever had on a school trip.

Length and all that.
(Uncle Comrade, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 0:42, Reply)

QUOTE:
"It involved the two of us, with equally bad Spanish explaining who the IRA were and what they were about to a room full of people with shite English. Hard."

for next time - they're like ETA.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 0:12, Reply)

Outdoor centre
The smell of Kendal Mint Cake and socks, wet kagoules and waterproof keks. Mud, cold, wind and 9000 mile hikes cajoled, insulted and ignored on by the velcro-glove wearing Geography-teaching-sheep-molesting bastard who nigh on lived out there.

It was wet. And a gale force wind blew.

I was eleven and chubby. My boot came off. And I tromped around in my sock trying to retrieve it.

Now? Bald as I am, I won't stay anywhere without a wired in hairdryer.
(Chickenwire social lubricator extraordinaire, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 0:03, Reply)

I'm sure this isn't funny
...oh, but the bonding exercise we had in 6th year! Oh the joys!

A weekend spent in Aviemore [north-north-north Scotland] with all the people you'd grown to love/hate. Highlights include:

Rain. Rain. Sleet. Rain. Attempting to do: kayaking, archery, mountain-biking, volleyball, snowboarding, frisbee and drinking in the rain and sleet combo.

The anorexic girl of the year finally cracking and beginning to waste away into nothingness. Cue emergency round-trip to hospital.

Snowboarding. In the rain. With not fucking t-shirts on.

Climbing a fucking 230439404ft gorge in the side of mountain for 'fun'.

Going home tired, without having slept much and having stayed sober all weekend.

Boo sucks.
(Schumann makes awesome quiches., Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:58, Reply)

lifelong memories
Alton towers,
the girl with the biggest juicest breasts in the school completely failing to keep them from bouncing about like pumkins on a trampoline on the Nemesis rollercoaster,
saw a bit of nipple,
fantastic.
(Duke Fucknuts ate toast and fanny batter on, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:58, Reply)

Trip 2
We went to a forest near to our school looking at bugs and soil and other geography/science things. The place was also a massive tourist honeypot and we were there on a saturday so was quite busy.
We dug a small hole in the forest to look at how the soil is in layers, only one lad decides to make it a huge hole.
Onlookers kept asking what we were doing so we explained and they left, content with their greater scientific insight. When one elderly couple asks, the lad who was digging the hole said we were burying a body before anyone found it. They quickly walked off in horror. The supervising teacher thought it was hillarious though.
( thistle, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:43, Reply)

Geography trip 1
Some compulsory trip for 3 or 4 days in the lake district staying in a youth hostel. At the same time were a bunch of pikey kids from liverpool all with thick scouse accents.
For some reason, the youth hostel staff left everyone's packed lunch outside their door in the morning. The pikey kids went hungry every day.
( thistle, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:36, Reply)

Not mine
We have a Model UN program at my school that my friends and I all attend.

Last year, I wasn't attenting one of the conferences, but it became a series of inside jokes within the group.

First, understand that the teacher who sponsors the club is a 300 lb, 50-year old gay man.

So everyone was in their hotel rooms, and the teacher goes in to check on them - without knocking. He finds one of the [very attractive] boys in only one of those mini-towels in the hotel rooms (as the other boys had used all the normal ones), and one of the girls in a state of pre-sleep undress (note that his nipples were hard throughout this entire exchange).

Later, in the van on the way back to the hotel, he puts his hand on my friend's thigh twice, exclaiming the second time, "I'm sorry, I thought that was the carseat!"



Actually, the man is the most amazing teacher at the entire school, despite his paedo qualities.

No apologies whatsoever.
(I bape rabies Let's go get Chick-fi-A!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:26, Reply)

More College Than School...
16 years old, introduced to the psyche class at college (I was a lowly windows 3.11 IT student). Short on peeps to go to see the wonderful sights (and smells) of Amsterdam they invited us. In four nights we managed to...
Have all three emergency services sent to out hotel.
Get told off for skate boarding in our fifth floor room.
Flooded said room trying to do buckets.
Got bollocking from pissed up lecturer for smashing all the chairs.
Left screwdriver holes in the wardrobe.
Filled the third floor balcony with pizza boxes and cans.
Almost got beaten up by a Mr Motivator a like in the red light district.
Carried large amounts of pot, porn and weapons into the country.
Oh and left two toilets unusable through the action of urinating ALL OVER THE DAMN PLACE (not me I hasten to add).

Length, Girth, Depth, it is all good.!
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 23:17, Reply)

Das Boot
I went on a trip to the Shetland Isles in 5th year at school, which involved the rather arduous ferry journey from Aberdeen to Lerwick. I can pinpoint the time to the day that Gordon Strachan scored for Scotland against West Germany then failed to climb over the advertising hoardings as we watched the game on the shitty telly in the ferry bar. Our geography teachers accompanying us thought they were quite "cool" and "with it" and as we were mainly 16 year olds were quite happy for us to have a drink at the bar, which was really bloody stupid of them as 25 16 year olds proceed to drink themselves into oblivion on what turned out to be a particularly rough ferry journey and led inevitably to tidal waves of vomit, unconscious school kids locked in toilet cubicles and for the teachers the real fear that some stupid bastard had fallen overboard.
And some of us spent all our money for the week playing the bandits on the ferry.

Edit: That would be this game I think.
www.planetworldcup.com/CUPS/1986/groupe_ger_v_sco.html

Jesus, Stevie Archibald at Barcelona \o/
(garrison, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 22:44, Reply)

A teaching friend...
Trip to Germany - takes the overnight from Hull to Zeebrugge, coach journey to Cologne, 3 days looking round the local wonderment.

4 teachers, 40 kids. What could go wrong?

1. Pleading with the ship's manager not to put a Y9 girl and boy in the cell after they were caught rutting on deck at 2 in the morning on the way there.

2. A diabetic pupil going into a fit after losing her insulin on a tour of Cologne - rush to the hospital.

3. A pupil getting a shoeing off the local street gang after shouting 'heil hitler' and doing the goosewalk, Basil Fawlty style.

4. The coach driver threatening to abandon the group just outside Aachen after the toilet was blocked up by one enterprising student.

5. A raft of knives, and other small weaponry found in pupil's luggage just minutes before going through customs control at Zeebrugge.

Apart from that, a lovely trip.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 22:38, Reply)

Personal development camp
Needed somewhere to hide the champagne. Used a bowie knife to cut open a mattress, but the champagne wouldn't fit. Hid it in the guttering instead. Come midnight, we were stoned and couldn't reach the champagne. Found a ladder, but dropped it against the wall and smashed a window. Then noticed that a classmate had been videoing it all. Teachers all saw the video, but no one cared. Camp never invited our school back though.
(Demonic, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 22:28, Reply)

Jealous
...of all these trips to exciting places it seems everyone but me had.


Day trips to Exeter Maritime Museum. Over and over and over again...

Still, I know what a coracle is.
(inflateable, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 22:14, Reply)

Best school trip ever
First year camping trip in Dalby Forest,

Highlights included;

Chasing the token fat lad through the woods (along with the rest of the year) when he decided he'd had enough of being away from mummy and food on tap. Think of the bit where Piggy gets chased in Lord Of The Flies, pretty much like that except he didnt split his head open and we were in the woods. Poor old fatty didnt come back until night time. Apparently he'd made it all the way to the main road before he got hungry and decided that a cherubic young boy was probably safest with his classmates rather than in the cab of a lonely long distance lorry driver.

Watching a kid called Bonzo get pushed into a seasons worth of septic tank and then just bob about in there looking pathetic. Laughing even harder when he got pushed back in again with a big stick when he tried to get out.

Witnessing one of the teachers roll the Minibus trying to pull handbrake turns.

Burning some kids horrible blue and white England shell suit and then realising that he only had the clothes we'd just burnt to last him all weekend..oh how we laughed.

Watching the teachers get progressively more drunk as the weekend went on and then deciding it would be fun to throw butane cannisters into the bonfire -remember the napalm bit from Apocalypse Now, just like that it was.

Watching one of the teachers threaten to knock out the token fat lad on the last day.

Ahh happy, happy times.

Pog goes the cherry
(spacklordmongcharles, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 21:59, Reply)

This is my fist question of the week. And I said my first one would have to be big. So here goes,
It was a couple of years ago to Spain. I think it was a bit of a “coming of age” thing. The best way of dealing with it is just by listing my highlights:

The fact that we even went there is great. It really highlights the stupidity of my school. There are two European languages in my school – German and French (well Irish too but that doesn’t count). We were accompanied by the stupid teacher who spoke Spanish and the GERMAN language assistant (As in the person who was born in Germany, is training to become an ENGLISH teacher there and was working in our school as experience). It was a completely illogical place to go. It was great though.

The drinking at the weekends. We all went to the shady out pub. It was a shady man with a lot of alcohol for sale with a large speaker blaring out Spanigh pop music (which doesn’t sound too bad after a few beverages). There is no such thing as “too young too drink” in mountainous Spaninsh villages. And all drinks were a euro. And all girls liked talking to you cos you’re foreign. At sixteen this is like being six in a big bucket of chocolate.

Getting propositioned by a prostitute. At about three in the morning in a tiny picturesque Spanish village.

We went to a non-alcoholic disco on the last night. The place had a pub though with a bartender. A small group of us refused to dance and hung around the bar, being used to getting pissed and then dancing. The barkeep gave us free drink. In front of the people in charge including our own teachers.

Getting lost in Seville. I wandered through the back streets with my friend for about an hour. Then I remembered, in very typical bad sitcom style, that all the horse and carts in the city congregated at where the bus was. Cue two Irish teenagers running through the streets of a major Spanish city after a horse and cart. Sure enough, we arrived just in time.

Our days consisted of us hanging around the school while our exchange parteners went to school as normal. Sometimes we’d sit in and cause distractions. But one day we were just pissing about their cafeteria and the German language assistant asked us if we wanted to go talk to some twelve year olds with her. We were all sixteenish and thought ourselves as too cool to do that. But I decided “Ah new experiences, why the hell not? etc.” And also because the language assistant was hot. It was a suprisingly memorable experience. It involved the two of us, with equally bad Spanish explaining who the IRA were and what they were about to a room full of people with shite English. Hard.

The time it snowed. In Spain. In May. For the first time there in ten years. I lie you not. The entire village was completely covered in snow and we partook in a village-wide snowfight. Probably the oddest thing to happen. Not ever, but on the trip.

Well that’s all I can think of know. Hope I managed okay….
(Whim Devoted to destroying classic poetry with txt spk, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 21:18, Reply)

Wanking, Vim and Lynx
Swanage, 1984.

One kid (let's call him "David" cos that's his name) gets caught wanking in the showers, due to the glutinous substance sliding under the curtain of his co-showerer and down the plughole. Ewww.

So revenge is necessary. A Dr Crap-A-Lot's tea bag from the Swanage joke shop dunked in his coffee (he never notices the taste). Next day David's in the traps evacuating himself in a most noisome manner and, obviously, unable to move for a while. So the other kids chuck a couple of canisters' worth of Vim over the top of the door so he eventaully emerges looking like a ghost.

Naturally, counter-revenge is called for. Now the ringleader of the Vim squad, Chris, happens to have a false front tooth from a school fight earlier in the summer. He has a (to him only) incredibly amusing habit of wiggling the false tooth. While practising this naked in front of the bathroom mirror, David creeps up behind him and lets a can of deodorant rip up Chris's arse. The tooth sails across the room and is lost for a considerable time, precipitating a teachers' enquiry.

A truce is called. And the tooth gets lost in the sea on the last day anyway.
(rogerzilla, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 21:17, Reply)

Berlin, 1984
Ah yes. Drive to Berlin, with 3 teachers, kids divided between 3 cars. Ferry from Harwich to Hamburg, 23 hours, only one thing to do. Groover J, having been on a ferry before (despite only being 15), finds the bar in record time, and nurtures a great love for German beer, along with the Marlboro soft packs they sell at the bar (boy, was I cool). Teachers are oblivious, oblivion looms, but not before a trip up on deck to get off with two willing lassies from Peterborough (they must have been blind. By this point, I probably was too). Fine times, until I realise that another mate, not nearly as hammered, has taken charge of the Peterborough situation, while Groover J staggers around on deck, listening to Rush on his walkman in the dark (told you I was cool...)

Berlin passes in a blur. Much German beer. Vagely remember being carried home one night, seventeen sheets to the wind, and, the next day, scrawling my name on the wall with half-empty spray cans which had been abandoned in the bushes, trying not to throw up with the smell of it all.

On the ferry back, the bar gets found again, quickly. Having found that we were all for a piss-up, the teachers arrived, and many drinks were bought. Finale came when innocent Miss Ball was seen trying to stab an inflatable doll (real hair, etc) which some lads were dancing with, and one of our number ends the music by smashing his head through one of the ceiling-mounted disco speakers while pogoing. Happy days indeed...
(groover j lazerus, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 21:13, Reply)

That classic refrain
not me, but a friend...
kicked our year 8 form tutor in the bollocks when he tried to throw her in a lake in France.
I'd been kicked off the trip because of 'health problems', there was nothing wrong but said form tutor and my parents arranged this all behind my back.
I still high five her every time I hear this story.
(and now for someone completely different, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 21:09, Reply)

Barcelona
When I was 15 I went on a school trip to Barcelona. My friends and I bought a goldfish from the market, and we managed to keep it for several days in our hotel room's bidet. By leaving the tap running on a constant trickle we were able to produce bubbles for the little chap, and we fed him 3 times a day with crumbs from bread rolls we stole out of the restaurant.

All was well until one of our group fell ill and decided to have a hot bath. None of us realised that a hot bath would change the temperature of the water flowing into the bidet. A few hours later steam was rising from a bidet full of scalding hot water and the fish was floating on its side.
(jacob, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:48, Reply)

I loved my school trips
All girls school. Teacher determined to save money on trips to Europe. End result - 50 girls staying in a hotel in the middle of the red light district. Note this didn't happen once, but every trip abroad.

Coaches are expensive, so walk everywhere ("Everyone meet outside the sex shop in ten minutes sharp!"), and fare dodge on public transport when it's too far.

Teacher in question I think was naive rather than malicious; he was author of the phrase "My, those are tall women", in reference to a group of drag queens.

On a more personal note, going round the Vatican on a school trip when you're running a high fever and mildly hallucinating is something to remember.
(mw, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:45, Reply)

Geography trips were always shit
every georgraphy trip ive been on has turned out to be a massive dissapointment. the first was to magical and every peopophiles wet dream:- DISNEY LAND! sounds amazing i thorght, leave friday back monday woo! actually no. we left friday night at 8pm. drove to dover, caught the 1am ferry to some place in france, then drove non stop all the way to disney land, arriving at 7am. we waited unitl the gates opened and stayed there till 5pm. wow amazing. not only have we up all night and shattered from the coach/ ferry crossing but veryhungry as well. and what do we get? 10 hours there, most of which was queing. i should add that me being a young and rather exciable child i ran off as soon as we got there and so missed the vital information that we MUST LEAVE by 5pm or we would miss the ferry home. oops i wasnt popular.
the 2nd time was to london and to see the great and british monument: the nationla musemum of Britain. what should of only been a 4 hour drive turned into a 8 hour drive as some twat got the bright idea of going passed the dome (this was pre 2000). believe me, it was not worth 100000000billion pounds spent on it and i didnt even see inside of it. we then spent (what felt like) 30 mins in the musem. que yet another 7 hour drive home
lenght? gurth? fuck it, i got off with the hottest girl in my year in the dinasaur section. it was worth it.
( Captain Pilchard The king of B-movies!, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:40, Reply)

France
PGL trip with my old primary school. We'd travelled over on the coach and all that malarky. When we got there, it was quite late and quite dark. So what do they make us do, run 5 laps around some big ass lake. Not happy. Needless to say, after a couple of days, some one said they were being followed. This led to lots of rumours of a rapist in the bushes and stuff. All the manly men of 10/11 year olds running around a lake looking for a non-exsistent man in the bushes is quite funny really.
(Seanus, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:37, Reply)

A lot of stories seem to be about trips to the isle of wight..
So here's mine!

On a year 6 trip, we had just boarded the ferry accross the water from the mainland. Like the bastards we were we started spitting over the side, and I built up a big ol' bastard piece of phlegm and promptly spat it over the side.. but the windy seas disagreed with my phlegm going into the sea and the wind picked it up and whipped at back at the ship..

Straight onto my friends forehead. Now this being a ferry you get a lot of spray.. and you tend not to notice the difference between spray, and some kid's spit. So he smiled merrily and asked me wtf I was laughing at so hard :)
(Black sky No accidents since, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:25, Reply)

The Isle Of Smite
Be gentle... it's my first time...
1989, Isle of Wight. Primary school trip staying at a hotel in Shanklin sharing my room with my two best (male) mates but sharing a table with the hottest girly in the year.

One of said mates tells hot girly then other mate fancies her. An hour later a chase develops around the hotel after the passer of secrets is found out. Cue rampaging up the stairs to our room with myself in hot pursuit.

Imagine my total loss of bladder control as I find lover boy beating seven shades of brown hell out of the whisperer with his own slippers.

Same trip, also managed to get covered in oil on Sandown beach thanks to some boody Froggy oil tanker.

Oh and jump forward 4 years to secondary school trip to London. Spotty teenage Elfinpunk sat on coach with the cutest lass in the year (well out of the geeky ones at least) for 4 hours TOO SCARED TO SAY A FECKIN WORD TO HER.

My how I have changed.!

Sorry about the length, it's being treated with Baby Bio.!
(elfinpunk Touching Cloth Since, Thu 7 Dec 2006, 20:10, Reply)