Sports Hall Surprise
As a weakling nerd, I fucking hated PE/games lessons. They were humiliating, embarrassing, and just fucking tedious. I'd either give into peer pressure and play football (after being picked last or next-to-last), ending with me making a fool of myself by either: a) fucking up and missing the ball to cries of 'FUCKING TACKLE HIM, SICK BOY!' or 'YOU CUNT! GET IN THE GAME!', or b) falling over like a prize spack and scraping my knee on the gravel, or just leave my PE kit at home and then stand around doing nothing.

Towards the end of Year 11, me and a few others would bring in PE kit, but opt to stay in the Sports Hall and play tennis or basketball, as it was better than going out and getting decked to the floor by a gym loving, musclebrained, colliflower eared fuckstack in rugby. The group consisted of me, some of my friends, an obese pyromaniac by the name of Shaun, and Barry (name changed for the sake of the specimen I'm about to describe).

Barry, for lack of a better description, was a red faced, failure at life that fucking STUNK of burning wood/dead bodies. He seldom talked, and when he did it was under a low mumble of words, and a short little guttural laugh at the end of each sentence, followed by a sniff of the nose, which he was prone to doing often. He wasn't the most popular chap. As you can imagine, this kid was one birthmark away from committing suicide, or mass murder.

Anyway, one day we were all playing tennis; me feigning interest and my friend Nathan getting quite competitive in the heat of the game, when all of a sudden, who should burst through the net in a random outburst of flailing anger, desperately trying to be funny? Barry of course.

So, we lock him in the cupboard at the back of the sports hall. He goes in willingly, with that short burst of guttural laughter, sniffing and all. We close the doors to the cupboard, block it with all the equipment we can find (a lot), and he starts getting annoyed. He pushes up against the door, tries to open it, starts threatening us. The buzzer goes: it's the end of the lesson. We start leaving, and see the PE teacher (think stereotypical gym teacher) moving towards the cupboard. We stop and wait to see what happens. He starts shifting the equipment out of the way, sighing about 'fucking kids' (which he's done much of I bet), and then goes to open the cupboard.

Barry bolts out, screaming 'ARRRRGH' in his mumbled tone, and shoves past the teacher; expecting it to be one of us. The teacher almost has a heart attack, and Barry shits himself too as soon as he notices. To be fair, Barry didn't grass on us, and the teacher let him off.
(Sick Boy likes to swear a lot, Thu 4 Apr 2013, 13:20, Reply)