we went on a school trip

to see how snopes.com was made. When our bus got back the school got an angry call from them. Apparently one of the kids had smuggled out a load of bullshit stories!
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 6:02, Reply)

I remember I went on a few school trips,
nothing of consequence happened!
( Zank Frappa Who let the lefties in?, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 4:25, Reply)

Drugs of Edinburgh award
I knew it was pointless so I never did it, but I did agree to go on one 2-day hike to make up the numbers. Big mistake.

Walking all day in the wet in a pair of shitty trainers didn't help. The four of us finally found our spot for the night just as Sir turned up to make sure we were fine. Once we'd eaten dinner and he'd left, we set about doing what all teenage boys left in woods overnight do. Had a big fuck-off bonfire, using all our meths fuel to get the thing started.

All was well and good until Alex decided to throw a burning log straight into the air, which, by sod's law, landed directly onto his tent, burning a massive hole in it. Shitting our pants, number 1.

After putting all our bags into the smouldering remains, we all thought about getting some sleep in the other, now rather cramped tent.

"Whats that noise? I can hear someone outside". Paul went out to investigate, didn't get very far when he pelted back in screaming "There's a fucking bloke in a trench coat wiht an alsatian outside! Grab my knife and gun!". Luckily, he did have a huge hunting knife and BB gun that he'd stowed in his bag. We set off after this innocent dog-walker because he clearly was going to kill us. Shitting out pants, number 2.

2am, just drifting off to sleep when suddenly our tent is lit up like daytime. Fuck. What is that. Peer our heads out the door to see 3 Ford Escorts tanking it up the footpath towards where our tent is. The cars pull up, 15 people get out and we hear a voice shout through the blinding light, "'Ere lads, your teacher not around? Don't mind if we have a little rave here do you?". Not wanting to object and possibly be killed for the second time that night, we chatted to the pillheads for a bit and stayed up to watch the carnage ensue.

Drum 'n bass blaring out the cars, half-naked girls puking all over the place, couples fucking in the backseats, some bloke with a needle in his arm, and bags of 20,000 E's being dealt. I did not sleep at all. There's no shit left now, I am just prolapsing.

Sunrise, and we soon see our teacher marching merrily towards our completely distraught selves. Before we could even open our mouths to explain what had happened in the night, he looked at the debris of burnt tents, used needles and fag ends and said, "Are these yours?". We got an absolute bollocking right there, with promises of an even more severe one when we got back.

You fucking absolute cunt, sir. Why on earth would we come on a school trip and do heroin? Yes, we burnt the tent, but skag? Twat. I mean, what a moron. We were 14. Any person with even the slightest shred of common sense would have realised that there was no way that could have been ours, no matter how far fetched the actual reason was.

We spent the last days walk home seething with anger and sleep deprivation, randomly shooting animals with the BB gun.


Other details I have left out of the story included:

*Shoplifting from the newsagents in the village we were told not to go into.
*Myself shooting Paul, point blank, in the skull with what I thought was an unloaded gun, giving him concussion.
*Alex asking to buy some weed off the ravers.
*Perfectly shitting on Graham's shit in total darkness.
*Me setting fire to own own leg after failing to make a bomb out of a Fanta bottle and meths.


Knob knob knob knob knob.
(A Good Egg, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 3:29, Reply)

Paris is quite an education for a 9 year old
Our school trip there switfly turned into a shambles for the usual reasons (pornography, booze in a vending machine in the hotel :D) but it's for the classic reason of girls that it left an impact on my life...

My mate Matt was cool. Very cool. And hot, as much as 9-year-olds can be. Naturally he was the object of affection for any girls our age we encountered, most importantly those sharing our hotel, but never more so when he was wearing the t-shirt.

Now when your 9 it seems logical that it was the t-shirt that was the sole source of his success and not his hair, smile, or the fact he could talk to girls without staring at his shoes, so for many years afterwards I would often be seen attempting to chat up girls whilst wearing a LIME GREEN t-shirt with the Umbro symbol emblazoned across it in ORANGE.

Length / girth didn't matter, they wanted none of it.
(ZoFreX is cleaner than smoked trout, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 3:26, Reply)

Russian 'educational' trip
In my second year of college, the History and Politics department organised a week in St Petersburg, allegedly for the purposes of education. We were informed beforehand that any drinking would have to be done in moderation.

Whoops.

It took until the second day for three of us to discover that the hotel bar served absinthe at a very reasonable rate. This was having had the evening meal in a Russian pub which involved two pints of lager and a cigar for me, and several fluorescent blue cocktails for a girl I vaguely recognised from college but had only met at Heathrow the previous day. We shall call her S.

Upon later returning to the hotel, we decided that an evening of heavy drinking was in order and so discovered the absinthe. I remember thinking at the time that 70% alcohol could only be a good thing. In my innocence, I had no idea that la Fée Verte (ooh, get me) was usually consumed with sugar and water, and thus necked the glass.

The rest of the evening remains fairly blurred. I recall more absinthe for both S and I, as well as vodka (when in Rome, obviously), Scotch (purchased at Heathrow) and Davidoff cigarettes (like smoking a cigarette made of silk and moistened shut with Claudia Schiffer's ladybits).

This all naturally led to the conclusion of the evening - S and I sharing a bed (not wahey, unfortunately, despite later rumours that we were doing the underpants Charleston), her passing out on my shoulder and waking up about ten minutes later to vomit on me. Nothing creates a special bond like being vomited on, you see, and we spent the rest of our friendship being incredibly awkward around each other.

Length? Not much of that in the Russian winter, I tell you.
(Doctor Rockter is not actually a doctor, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 3:12, Reply)

travel sickness
On a school trip in the Yorkshire Dales, 12 of us were in a minibus.

One pasty-faced lad (whom I shall refer to as Phil) was feeling ill, so they stopped the minibus. He jumped out of the back and proceeded to retch.
One of the people in charge, a hippy-type geography bloke with full facial hair, jumps out to see if Phil is OK.
At this point, class joker Steve says to the equally weedy and pasty-faced Andy :
"Hurry up Andy - that bloke with the beard is getting all the big bits."
Andy leaps from back of minibus and more retching ensues.

I very nearly wet myself.
( finnbar has officially retired, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 2:31, Reply)

We were all going on a trip to France in first year.
So the bus was full of 11 year olds and four teachers who were trying to be 'cool' and show how hip they were. A friend of mine was playing Dares with a few other guys; they dared my friend to take a dump in a brown paper bag. He does it. The bag gets passed around, much to everybody's dismay, one of the teacher notices the fuss.

"what's going on here then?"
"Nobody wants to pop the bag, sir"
"you wusses, give it here then."

*SPLAT*

To this day, I've never heard children screaming so loud.
( TonyUNDERSCORE from the Internet, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 1:01, Reply)

Hunters
I specified on the exchange trip form that I was a vegetarian. So which French family did I get to stay with? The village hunting enthusiasts. Every wall in every room, including my bedroom, was covered in wild-eyed, taxidermied corpses. Every meal was stew. Meat stew. 'Peek it out!' They told me, helpfully.

They were also alcoholics. The words 'un aperitif?' were bandied around like 'bonjour'. These two aspects of traditional French life fused beautifully on a trip to the delightful French glass-making factory, where Monsieur le Murdereur drove down country lanes, pissed as un fart at 80 miles per hour, only to spy a pheasant in a field about 100m (two seconds) back.

We reversed at great speed, he leapt from the car, and failing to find his trusty gun in the boot, he leapt through the corn shooting at the long-since-flown pheasant with an imaginary gun, going 'bang' and laughing his head off.

And people wonder why we hate the French?
(whatswiththemonkey, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 0:50, Reply)

I collapsed at Beamish
When I was 13. Must have been the sheer exhilaration at seeing what coal mines were like in't' THEM days. My vision completely went, I lost all sense of which way up I was meant to be and hit the deck, for no apparent reason (I'd never fainted before, haven't fainted since).

The supervising teacher with my group was the PE teacher. The kind of six foot seven bonehead who still showers naked with the first year boys and threatens to "shove a size 13 boot up your arse" if you can't do 100 press-ups. The kind of twat who delights in making fun of children who can't do gymnastics because of a back problem (no I haven't forgiven him for making me nearly break my neck doing forward rolls in my gym knickers in front of all the boys. Fused vertebrae are NOT fun).

Also the kind of twat who for the next FOUR YEARS makes constant jokes about how much I must have fancied him because I fainted in his presence.

Fucking bellend.

Apologies for length - mine is bigger than his could ever be.
( Spazzcat jam out with your clam out, Sun 10 Dec 2006, 0:08, Reply)

I think the length is worth a read.
I was never in the scouts but most of my friends were and it was for this reason that i went on a big week long school scout trip with said friends. This was a big thing with big marquee tents, one for the eight or so boys and one for the five or so girls.

At the time I had a thing about pooing. I HATED pooing away from home and tried to hold in my effluent for as long as possible while on the trip. Eventually my sphinctre could hold back the tide no more and so I tried to go, discreetly, to the small tent that covered the shitter (hole in ground lovingly reffered to as the "shit pit").
It was as I scrunched my way over to the tent that a friend saw me and realised that I was trying to go off for a sneaky one.
He stood in the middle of the field and screamed at the top of his voice,

"Hey everyone, Will's going for a shit"

Needless to say I was very very embarrased. Especially when my fellow pupils gathered round and started slapping the tent as a mammoth melon-like shit escaped via the back door.

There was another time on said trip where I walked into my tent, trying to find a kid named David.
I found him alright.
There he was in the middle of the tent, for anyone to see if they had walked in, bent over with his trousers and underwear round his ankles.

He was inserting a Cadburys Chocolate Finger into his rectum

I stood there for a moment in a stunned silence. His eyes were closed with a serene look on his face and he hadnt seen me.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I enquired.

He was so shocked to see me that I'm fairly sure he would have shit himself with fright if he had not had a chocolate finger protruding from his buttocks.

I left before anything else could be said but he later told me that when he removed the finger it had very little chocolate covering and that the next day he pooed little bits of chocolate with his normal poo.
We called him "Fingers" for the rest of the trip.

Same trip, same boy. He went into some public toilets when we went out shopping for food. Unfortunately he didnt look before he leapt and it was only when he reached for the bog roll that he realised there was none left. He proceeded to wipe his arse on his underwear and then put the underwear back on. He didnt see this as abnormal behaviour.

No apologies for length. Fingers arent that long anyway.
(vibrating tuna, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 23:44, Reply)

Swords!
I remember on a school trip in the fourth year of junior school..The trip was to the Isle of Wight, for a week, it was pretty good, nice weather and all that.
Seeing as this was well over 20 years ago now details are sketchy, but I remember our geography teacher was there, and was knocking off with one of the helpers. Obviously her husband suspected something as he turned up one night and they had a massive fight in the hotel corridor outside our rooom. Next morning she had a black eye and the helper was limping somewhat. Her husband was nowhere around so I can only guess he went home to pack his bags.

As for the swords title, well as part of the trip we went to carisbrooke(?) castle and I bought a replica sword for a fiver. After all my mates saw this they also proceeded to buy swords too, until the headmaster decided we weren't allowed swords, and made us all take them back for a refund.
bastard :(
(btw 1st post, long time lurker decided it was about time I registered :D)
(asmodean had too much christmas spirit on.., Sat 9 Dec 2006, 22:43, Reply)

Vegetarian food...
They warned us when we were planning a trip to the French Belgium border on a history trip that we wouldn't get much option if we didn't eat meat since Europe don't have many vegetarians. The caterers had been unsure what to serve us so had gone out of their way for the four non-meat eaters. And what did everyone else eat? Meaty slop.

Oh how we laughed in their faces!
(ladyintheradiator, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 22:01, Reply)

Kennet and Avon shoplifting spree
In the third year at my secondary school (girls, semi-posh, clever clogs all around) we had a rather dull trip planned around the Kennet and Avon canal. For some unknown, mystical reason we all started pinching anything that wasn't nailed down. From a boat owner's cider to the pens and rubbers at the Kennet/Avon floating museum. The worst hit was the tourist information office where all the tacky Brittania merchandise was hoovered up by our light fingers. I didn't even feel any guilt when the old dears running the place marvelled at how much stock they had sold and how clear the shelves were as we trooped out. Afterwards no-one ever spoke about it again, and we all went back to being our prissy little 13 year old selves again. It was very, very strange.
(bonjelafiend, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 21:49, Reply)

Our school got asked by the BBC
To come along and be extras in the filming of the Sunday afternoon timeslot filler 'My Dad's The Prime Minister'.
We actually ended up sitting in a dingy old classroom for 4 hours waiting for our scene, eating free biscuits and supping on squash. Eventually I got to walk around in the background whilst the star (some sad little cunt who NEARLY got to play harry potter but didn't) talked to his friend in the foreground.
The best bit was being forced to do cross country around the grounds of the school it was being filmed in (we were all in PE kit).
I watched it and you can't even see me. Bastards !!
By the way the school it was filmed at was the same one used for the classroom scene in Monty Python's Meaning of Life, and for the posh school scenes in Little Britain.

As I have mentioned before the girth is quite remarkable.
(gleam has been selling these fine leather jackets since, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 19:45, Reply)

French "Encounters"
Our week long trip to France turned into an utter shambles as soon as we became aware of the availability of cheap fireworks/BB guns/lighters. The highlight of the trip had to be the visit to Paris during which the coach was waylaid by a hairy frenchman carrying a bottle of wine and clearly drunk. We also got very close to selling my friend to the crazy people who mill around the base of the Eiffel Tower selling shizzle but were prevented by a teacher :(. Also the class chav with an unusually prominent forehead nearly caused an incident by throwing aforementioned fireworks off the Eiffel Tower. Dunno what would've happened if he'd done that nowdays. There was also a disco back at the hotel-place we stayed during which I was propositioned by a girl from Hull (ACTUALLY from Hull :o ). And the one of the girls in the room above us became known as 'Toothless Jim'. Still not sure why.
Oh and this nutter (who has since been asked to leave the school due to his craziness)took pictures of some of the girls whilst they were asleep (he also stalked them on a seperate occasion) and tried to kill himself on the last night by jumping off a balcony.
By the final morning one of the teachers had been reduced to tears and ended up making a speech to everyone in which she emplored us to mend our ways. All in all a good trip.

The length ain't great but by gum the girth will leave you flapping in the wind.
(gleam has been selling these fine leather jackets since, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 19:36, Reply)

Four in a bed
On an art trip to Amsterdam (same one as my other post) I was lucky enough to share a bed (two beds pushed together) with three sixteen year-old girls (I was 16 myself). Unfortunately we didn't do anything more exciting than tickle each other. Glad the teachers didn't catch us, though.
( evil_chutney, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 19:15, Reply)

Abandoned on the M1
Not quite school - Uni first year so close.
On the way to London to protest against 'Thatcher the milk snatcher' (you have to be a certain age...) and so busy playing pinball at Trull services on M1 that me and mate got left. Hitched to London, much more interesting, especially lorry driver who like to have his wife dress up as schoolgirl...
(grumpypolecat, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 19:04, Reply)

Hairdryer treatment
I went on an art trip to the New Forest. Harbouring a terrible crush on Mark, one of my classmates, I sneaked into the boy's dorm at night and shoved my electric toothbrush (still buzzing) in his bed and gave him the fright of his life. Lame, yes. At the tender age of 15, I had not yet learned the subtle art of seduction.

The resultant non-manly shriek led to me getting rumbled and receiving the bollocking of my life from my art teacher's humourless porcine dwarf harridan of a wife in front of my sniggering classmates. Leaving me feeling neither big nor clever, and suddenly aware I was shivering in a nightie that was not long enough to cover my pants.

Still, I had the last laugh when, three year's later when staying over at my mates (the son of another teacher at the school) I caught aforementioned art teacher in flagrante up to his bollocks in a much more aesthetically pleasing blonde colleague on the sofa.

Ha.
( weebear1974 discovering the joy of cat rape since, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 15:53, Reply)

Another French Exchange Tale
On the ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo, we were split into cabin groups- which was essentially those that would and wouldnt sleep. i ended up in the latter. we were all having a laugh, then one by one we dropped off to sleep. Five minutes after i was asleep, the other guys in the cabin decided to close my bunk bed, complete with me in it, into the wall. they'd been pretending to be asleep. cue me being unable to move at all whilst my "friends" piss themselves laughing on the floor. i couldn't get to sleep, even after i was let out, as i was so paranoid that they'd pull the trick again.

all in all a crap nights sleep, but hey, i managed to get a b3ta QOTW answer out of it!

Cheers,
(slurry apologises, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 15:25, Reply)

after i had left school
my friends went to russia with the sixth form.

spent the whole time getting fucked.

ive seen the films.

my mate topless in the russian winter jumping into a huge pile of snow and knocking out a tooth and also the video of him fingering a stripper while shes trying to give him a lapdance.

not your average school trip really
(fwack bang on it, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 14:42, Reply)

I went on a school camp

I was shocked to discover that, despite the name, the whole thing was quite butch.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 14:30, Reply)

Another lame one, but...
...worth it just for the sheer stupidity.

I still don't understand why Jody was surprised that the bus was stopped by the police following us, after he stuck his finger up at them from the back seat of the bus!
(Guinness2702 Meh! Do I look like I care?, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 14:28, Reply)

Coach crash
I was sitting on the coach day-dreaming (window seat I think), when suddenly it started rolling all over the place and crashed.

Turned out that in fact my mate had jumped off his top bunk onto my bed, while I was dreaming*.

* I've no idea why I was dreaming of being on a school trip, while on a school trip, but there you go.
(Guinness2702 Meh! Do I look like I care?, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 14:08, Reply)

Oh, just thought of another one!
I'd already booked, paid for, etc, this camp I was going on, so when i got an ear infection, I thought "I may as well still go, I just won't go swimming"... well! After a few hours at camp, my inner ear had swelled to the point that my jaw was pushed slightly out of place, making chewing absolutely impossible, so I lived on milk and cordial for a week. Lost almost half my body weight, and had hardly any energy for the "team building exercises" we all had to do. Looked great though.

Wouldn't reccomend not eating for a week, mind you.
(EasilyRecognisable I’m back baby, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 12:36, Reply)

a fond memory
I went on a school camp to Mt Barney and didn't do a poo for the whole week because I was scared of the goannas which lurked around the latrines
(rodgerroop, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 12:27, Reply)

Completely uneventful school trip
Owing to the professional attitude of the staff who had conducted faultless due diligence planning with an abundance of caution. Blairworld. All grey it was, but trying super hard to be exciting.
(SSSSS, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 12:09, Reply)

Paris.
School trip to Paris, 1987ish.

History trip (doing French Revolution for A level history). We get over channel OK, my mate Justin stopping to buy a bottle of Bacardi duty free on the ferry over. On train to Paris, he proceeds to drink pretty much the entire bottle to himself (there were 5 of us plus teacher and his wife) and by the time we got to our hotel he was completely out of it. We unpack and go out to eat. Our first meal there, we decide to go for a Pizza at a pavement café. All’s going well, Justin is managing to keep a lid on his pissedness, our teacher is pretty cool about it and the food etc is good. Then Justin decides to start talking to the French chap (and his family) sat next to us.

Conversation goes as follows:

Justin “Exscuse moi, tu habite en Paris ?”
French Chap “Oui”
J (stage whisper to us lot) “Aaah the cunt lives here ! in Paris !”
J (to French chap) “Et ton Famile ?”
FC “Oui”
J (stage whisper to us lot) “Aaaah the cunt’s family lives in Paris too !”

He then proceeded to leap out of his chair and dart down an alleyway. Lord knows where (or why) and none of us knew Paris at all. Twunt.

We went back to our Hotel and eventually he turned up, covered in mud and passed out.

All’s well ‘til early hours when he proceeded to go to the loo (a tiny room with a loo and small sink) and throw up all over the red flock wall (think Indian restaurant) paper a mix of Bacardi and cheese and tomato Pizza, and stomach acid. Yum ! We and Teacher turn up, not impressed but he is too far gone to do much so we clean up his mess which goes OK other than the smell. We finally sprayed a whole bottle of Lynx Oriental over the walls which sort of masked the smell. But still, to this day I can recall the smell of Bacardi vomit and Lynx.

More to follow ?
(kitescreech still here, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 10:36, Reply)

Canals Trip Near Death Experience
I've sat reading these stories and realised that for once I have on of my own!

Second Year at comp. ( year 8 to you fangled youngsters ) we had a week long canals trip, ostensibly to see the industrial heriatage and do some geography type stuff. Being a boat full of lads we were for ever buggering about, such that almost killed me. When ever the canal passes under a bridge the sides of the canal narrow so one could jump off the boat, back to shore and back to the boat again. So of course the challenge became how many times can you do, per bridge, with the boat still moving.

Its The_New_Phoo's turn, 1st boat dismount flawless, now for the return... O dear, a slip. Im now up to my neck in manky midlands canal... my best mate ( Dave )is at the helm being watched by our Boats "Captain" Mr Morgan the Chemistry teacher who is now yelling "GET OUT THE WATER!" well I didnt need telling twice so I pulled myself onto the concrete I'd just jumped from, little legs dangling over the sides. "MOVE YOUR BLOODY LEGS!" he shouts again, so of course I did, a split second after which the boat ( 20-30 tonnes of it )grates against the concrete.

THe boat coasts past, with both best mate and teacher ashen grey "Fookin 'ell you ok" said me mate "Aye" I reply. "Ok, Ill stop at next bridge for ya" so after me dunking I get a half mile walk along an overgrown towpath, piss wet through getting nettled and scratched by brambles. Me an me mate still talk about the day he nearly killed me.

Same trip, minor gas leak from the stove results in the unpopular kid, with two streamers of ever present greenies groaning "gassssssss" and acting all over come. He got ripped for that for the rest of our school career.
(The_New_Phooey cant draw//cant 'shop, Sat 9 Dec 2006, 10:23, Reply)

Jurassic Larks
I still can't believe this happened but somehow the wonderous people in charge of our science department decided that our entire year (at the age of 12) should all go on a school trip to the local cinema to see the newly released Jurassic Park due to its potential for scientific learning!

As luck would have it I was sat next to a girl that I had a huge crush on and, every time something 'scary' happened, she would scream and grab onto me in all manner of interesting places. Mr. Lupton, if you're reading this; you, sir, are a god. And if any parents ever complained that this was a waste of lesson time then you may tell them on my behalf that this trip was the key to me going on to improve my knowledge of female anatomy no end. In a purely scientific way. Natch.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 9 Dec 2006, 10:23, Reply)

Dressed For Action
At the age of eight our entire year went on a weekend trip to top quality northern olde worldy attraction village Beamish. On the second day our headmaster advised us to wear 'something comfortable' on our feet. Being a tad naive at that age I took it a bit literally; which is why I was sent back to the bus after being spotted, wading through a ton of pig shit at the farm enclousure, in my Action Man slippers.

Kudos.
( Gleeballs is mostly made out of chocolate and hate., Sat 9 Dec 2006, 10:13, Reply)