For ski's a jolly good fellow...
I went to a fairly posh boarding school; I was a day pupil and common as you like, so therefore had no friends. So what possessed me to go on the school skiing trip is beyond me.

All the way there, there’s a braying upper class drone going on in the background. “Daddy took me skiing when I was three, we’ve got a chalet in Colorado, Daddy says I’m good enough to go down a black run, Daddy’s going to buy me a unicorn…” etc, etc. And it’s all from the same bloke. When we arrive, I’m so sick of the sound of him, that I opt out of the evening’s entertainment (a Treasure Hunt – look, we were only about 9) and go to bed.

Next morning, suspicious lack of posh boy white noise. Turned out Daddy was going to have to pay for his errant offspring to be airlifted back to the UK as the inbred twat had fallen down the stairs 30 seconds after checking into the hotel and broken his leg in three places.

I had quite a pleasant week after that.
(Rakky (forgot her password) The muffin maverick, Tue 12 Dec 2006, 9:54, Reply)