Duke of Edinburgh
For some reason it was drummed into us that D of E was a really good idea and would be a really useful thing to have on your UCAS form/CV - kids it ain't - do you think it's a coincidence that it's patron is the most sadistic old bastard the royal family has ever known (except perhaps Henry VIII)?

My own Duke of Edinburgh experience was great. On our first hike I was off on the day we chose tent partners, and my bastard friends hadn't thought to include me in their tent, so i was saddled with the resident outcast - you know the type every school has one and this one had serious hygiene problems, coughed up phlegm all the time, spoke and farted in her sleep and copied everyone in a desperate attempt to be liked.

So after 10 miles we reached camp. Tents were pitched, hot dogs were boiled and vodka was drunk from the flask I had brought along. My two mates had been allocated a two man tent so there was no way we'd all have fitted, but such was my desperation not to sleep with 'it' I curled up in their porch in 2 degree temperatures.

Needless I got no sleep and was bitten to fuck by ants. Still better than listening to 'mummy, mummy, father christmas' and farts all night. 'it' also had an asthma attack that night apparently so I felt quite blessed to have had only ants for company.

The fun and games continued on the next hike, where I actually managed to share with normal people:

We were flashed and leered at by an old pervert which we caught on our video diary and showed in assembly.

We found the diary of a staff member which recounted in mind bendingly graphic detail how she would masturbate with a red hairbrush. Said hairbrush was also discovered, but naturally left well alone, but the diary was comandeered, photocopied and spread. She left soon after.

Rumours were spread that bugs were living in the toilets of the campsite which would stick in your hair and never come out. Obviously I felt the appropriate course of action was not to urinate for the duration of the two day trip. At the end of day 1 I tripped over a tree root and cracked my kneecap on a rock, fracturing it in many places (though I only discovered this later). I completed the last 5 miles with a bastardised kneecap, a 4 stone pack on my back and only a stick to keep myself upright. I emerged a hero - only to wet myself in the pub at the end, in front of my and everybody elses parents.

No one ever apologised for length, but 15 miles is a f*cking long way
(Ambernj1, Fri 8 Dec 2006, 13:05, Reply)