I went to an Enid Blyton-esque boarding school when I was younger
out in the wilds, and for one day each year, always the hottest, summeriest day in May/June we would hop into some minibuses to be taken to a remote river out in the forest, where we would have the whole day to picnic, play in waterfalls, build things in the forest, and basically do everything that a kid wants to do in summer. It was fantastic and everyone looked forward to it.

There was, however, one guy in my year who was a bit of a self-important tit. He was continuously banging on about his amazing dad, who was some high-up guy at a nearby chemical works. He never shut up about it.

Anyway, we all gather on one of the hottest days of the year for our annual picnic, ice cream and wilderness trip. We have our swimming stuff and huge grins. The headmaster comes out to inform us of 'a change of plan this year, we'll be doing something different.'

Yes, tit-for-brains had asked his dad to arrange a tour of the chemical works for us instead, and our slightly nutty headmaster had thought this was a brilliant idea as we were obviously bored of doing the same thing year after year.

This resulted in a pack of almost tearful 6-12 year olds traipsing round a swelteringly hot industrial estate learning about how clingfilm is manufactured in excruciating detail.

And, thereafter, the most horrific bullying imaginable to man for the remaining brief time the little git spent at the school. The suffering inflicted was impressive in both inventiveness and relentlessness.
(meepmeep is, Mon 11 Dec 2006, 16:31, Reply)