My old French teacher
Was full of these stories. The best ones she used to tell involved some school in London in the eighties. It was a bit of a backwards school, and there were a load of skinheads. Once they locked her in a cupboard for the entire lesson, but the best story was about a kid I'll call Peter (as I forget his name)

Apparently this kid was a bit weird and all the skinheads took great delight in tormenting him to see what reaction they'd get out of him. One day they tormented him so much (I think my French teacher had given up trying to control them through fear of being locked in cupboards again, or through cruel amusement probably) that he hid under a table and started crying. Eventually the teacher stopped laughing long enough to try to get him to come out and as he moved his hand away from his face an absolutely massive bogey string attached itself from the hand to the nose. On seeing this Peter's face was an absolute picture of pure terror and he started screaming, which somehow made it longer.

Hmm. It was funny when she told it anyway. Probably the accompanying actions.
(Marmite Omelette ...but I feel better having screamed, don't you?, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:57, Reply)

he downed a bottle of vinegar

( Sunshine Elephant, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:56, Reply)

So we are encouraging the age old tradition of
being a dick and bullying the odd one out. That's lovely.

Anyways, being that I enjoyed spending alot of time on my own in school I was continuously picked on by the "cool" kids for being odd.

I would read in the lunch breaks causing said cool kids to rip up my books and then beat me up. I ran head first into filing cabinets for the entertainment of others.

This still did not beat the kid who wanted me and my friends to call him dad whenever we went into a shop or the other kid who was pelted with bagels and constantly played the "I am your father speech" from Star Wars because his dad was non-existent in the family circle.
( Mr. Street, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:56, Reply)

Stig
There was a kid in my form class who was affectionatly known as 'Stig'. I could never figure out why he was so unpopular, but probably something to do with the fact he always looked like he slept in his clothes, had breath like a dog's arse and had a penchant for eating his own nose pellets.

Anyway, he was good for punching and he took it very well. Never saw him cry once in the 4 years of beatings he took simply for being weird. Poor kid, must've been a living hell for him.

Lucky for him that he died shortly after failing almost all of his GCSEs, otherwise he was likely to cop the same treatment in the workplace.

R.I.P. Stig, I never hit you, but often marvelled at your ability to come in and take that abuse every single day.
(Mozchops ... just not in the face, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:51, Reply)

There were so many of them,....
..one in particular was Naughty Paul.

I dont remember Naughty Pauls surname but I do remember him disappearing off to the toilet at playgroup in 1970something and returning some minutes later with a freshly laid Mersey Trout cradled lovingly in his hands.

He couldnt understand why we were all running away in disgust, evidently this was quite a normal occurrence in his household.

I dont remember what became of the turd, but somehow now I envisage a photo of him on his mantlepiece holding it like a 6lb prize carp with the annotation below "You should've seen the one that got away".
(LunarJim, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:47, Reply)

Spam
I moved schools halfway through year 6 (the last year of primary school) and subsequently everybody had already made friends. It didn't help either that I came from a relatively nice school where everyone actually had at least half a brain cell into a primary school in the middle of a council estate where I was constantly asked "Why do you speak posh?" and wasn't allowed to take the level 6 SATs paper because I was the only one in the class who could actually handle it.

Anyway. Because everyone had already made their friendship groups, barriers were set etc (plus the mini chavs scared me) I got befriended by the class weirdo. Her name was Sam and she latched onto me because she had no friends of her own. She was obsessed with Britney Spears (late 90s) and considered herself "The Queen of Pop." She was bullied for being German and fat and looking uncannily like scooby-doo, and she had a weird rash on her head she swore was ecxzma. I remember one day she drew a swastika on the back of her hand and claimed it was her symbol.

Anyway. Everyone in the class went to the same secondary school so from the first day she was doomed with the same reputation. She liked to claim she could speak German better than the teachers (She couldn't) and thought she was an IT genius. She never quite shook off the nazi reputation, and for some unknown reason she liked chasing a kid called Joe on the way home shouting at him "A Jewish boy who hasn't been circumsised! I'll do it for you!" accompanied by a truly terrifying laugh. (He was weird too come to think of it)

In about year 9 she proclaimed herself as a goth and denied all past obsession with pop. Then in about year 10 she started writing poems about incest and suicide, "got pregnant" twice and came into school with massive emo cuts up her arms. She met a guy on the internet about twice her age and met up with him to have underage sex, which she then told us about in horrible detail. She was with him for three years.

Last time I saw her she had just split up with him and moved in with some guy from Birmingham she'd known for about two weeks, and she was suddenly bisexual and a complete dope-head. Everyone at college called her SPAM, which we all wished we'd thought of earlier.

Apologies for length, but she'd have loved it.
(Marmite Omelette ...but I feel better having screamed, don't you?, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:45, Reply)

I used to work with this sick fuck
news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/cambridgeshire/4887562.stm
(topofthepods, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:43, Reply)

Worryingly keen on Hitler
There were some classes where the weird kid was me. But in history I was sat right next to the weird kid for a couple of years and didn't notice.
In hindsight I should have twigged when he broke into "Deutschland uber alles" on a regular basis. I was, and still am, a military history buff so it didn't seem that odd that he was obsessed by the Waffen SS. The dark hair swept across his forehead at a sharp angle? The day he told me about his plan to go up onto Cannock chase and live rough, hunting passers by? Didn't catch on. I got on with him fairly well. One of maybe two people that did.
Then one day I came in to find his desk empty.
I was the last person in our school to find out that my deskmate had attacked someone with an axe the previous night.
(Big D, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:42, Reply)

I was the weird kid in a way.....
I got picked on heaps, most other kids ended up jumping to the conclusion that to hang out with the cool crowd they had to make a show of picking on me.

I got bullied a lot, teased, tormented, etc. If you put an emo kid through just as much pain as I went through they probably wouldv'e killed themselves in the first year of "high school".

Mind you - being stereotyped as your classic computer geek in a small backwards country town didn't help either.

On rare occasions I'd snap and beat the shit out of the occasional bully - the only way I'd end up getting a few days of being left alone!

I'm now glad I've moved to the city life...
(mudslinger lives in a house surrounded by pussy....... cats!, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:40, Reply)

Peedo at Work
Not quite at school, but in my last job we worked with a wierd guy who mainly spent his time looking at the internet.

One day we were called into a meeting, except this guy- only to be told that he had been fired.

Not too bad so far, it was only then that we read about him in the paper as being a massive Peedo- who literally had thousands of pictures on his PC- kinda nade sense why he never lent it to one of his quite good friends from work, and why he always minimised his screen when you came near.

All I can say is Preston- is a hell hole full of Peedos and shitty jobs (waiting for that QOTW to arrive to spill the horros from there.)

SW's to everyone.
(audreyforbes audreyforbes, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:38, Reply)

We wouldn't be on b3ta if we weren't the weird ones...
There was a few at my comp.

Gandalf - as he had read the hobbit in a continuos loop since he was about 8 years old. and loved it so much he just kept reading it. As well as being a greasy, and very very acne ridden (i feel for him now) he had a very rough time in and essex comprehensive.

Christophe - French kid arrived at school. Was proper high octane mental. Attention Deficit Disorder but in french. Made 1 friend whom accidentally killed him on the back of a motorbike.

And from my early days of school - Mark, aged 7. His sister was pregnant at 13, but fit in a psycho gyspy way. that was much later.
He went mad at our supply teacher as he had done nothing all morning. He never did anything but our real teacher wouldn't push it. When challenged he threw his chair across the class and hit me square on the forehead. a lot of blood and screaming later, i was laken to hospital for 9 sitches. Thats was where one leg hit. as the chair went over i had three round bruises that lasted weeks where the other three legs had hit my back as it span. Thats one reason why chairs in school have runners these days.
He stayed in our area, and became less weird. But could still kick off - no kidding - on a full moon. I think it was instilled at an early age that the full moon brings out weirdness and he became a self fulfilling prophecy. It would explain why aged 9 he could grow a beard a lot of grown men would kill for.
( bazza van der trance , ooh baby baby, baby baby. Get up on this., Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:37, Reply)

one of many
We had a lad at school called tony, who would regularly spray lynx onto his blazer arm, spelling his name out with it then lighting it.

He'd light the gas points too straight from the desk.
(stomm, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:35, Reply)

Peter - What's in a name?
Oh, Peter.

I'd met a few weird kids before (and I am fairly sure some of them regarded me as the weird one) - but Peter took the biscuit. The biscuit, the cake and the whole shooting match.

We met one fair September morn in 2000, at the induction for our degree course. I was there with my new roommates, when Peter came along. Yes, he was a tall, dumb-looking arse with a ridiculous smile plastered across his face; but it was the first day of Uni and who were we to shun someone just on appearance? We're Bohemian, don'tchaknow?

Oh, how wrong we were. Demonstrated by Peter's opening gambit:

"Hi 'lads'! I'm Peter. This is my 3rd attempt at my 1st year! I keep having to leave because I have severe depressive tendencies!"

O-kay then. Back away, back away. From the smell of stale fish and chips, mainly.

So Peter ends up in my class for the first year. Joy of joys. Now, being actory types, every lesson began with some kind of warm-up excercise - and one teacher was particularly fond of massage to the sound of whalesong, or some other such hippy bullshit. We were instructed to get in to partners, and I just didn't move quickly enough. I was with Peter.

I lay on the ground, and spent the next 10 minutes trying no to flinch as Peter moved through the massage process as called out by the present lecturer. Far from being relaxed, I have never felt so tense - looking at his face, seeing his eyes close and hearing the gentle "ooh" sounds coming from his spotty gob.

But the pain does not end here, dear friends. Bear with me though, my story is nearly done...

We swapped. Peter lay on the ground, and I set about the unenviable task of massaging him. I say massage, my fingers barely touched him as I hurried through, desperately trying to get out of this hell. I heard his breathing get slower and heavier - and then I heard the whole class go silent. With the trepidation only given to someone that knows something is about to go horribly wrong, I scanned the room searching for the cause of the tense silence.

I looked at Peter.

I looked at his jogging bottoms.

His boner looked back at me through them.

I leapt backwards. It was at this point he opened his eyes. This, I swear as gospel, was his next words:

"Er, I was thinking about my Grandma..." (which didn't make it any better), and he gathered his things and left.

We didn't see Peter til the beginning of the next year - harassing some scared looking 1st year girls. He didn't make it through that year, either.

Length? I don't want to talk about it.
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:33, Reply)

Andrew
Andrew was very quiet. He was the weird kid, and he was in my class for the first two years of high school. Hard to describe what made him weird, he was extremely quiet, looked and dressed a bit odd. He didn't interact with any of us, in fact he looked at us all with utter contempt. He also used to blow his nose all the time, noisily, with a proper handkerchief. Not kleenex like what us common scumbags used.

Andrew also had a psychotic temper.

We first discovered this in French, where I was taking the piss out of another girl, Mary, saying she wanted Andrew to do all sorts of sex on her.

Whether this touched a nerve, or he really didn't want to do all sorts of sex on Mary I am not sure, but Andrew decided the best way to deal with this was to chase me round the class room, pin me to a wall in a corner and try to strangle me (bearing in mind I was the biggest kid in our year, and Andrew was this oddball stick thin runt), whilst the teacher and the rest of the class looked in horror.

After discovering Andrews temper, it then became our mission to break it as often as possible, with sometimes disasterous results (yes, I was a cunt at school).

Other memorable reactions include smashing my best mate round the face with the side of a badminton racket (left a mark for about a fortnight), and, after having sawdust put down his back during a craft and design lesson, having to be restrained from stoving another mates head in with a hammer...

Fun times!
( wefbhweiufhweiu party, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:32, Reply)

Yatesy
Facial hair at 11...large collection of Reader's Wives at 12...unhealthy obsession with Captain Beefheart at 13...Yatesy was a proper freak. Point is, the fucker was also 6" 9 and built like a Routemaster bus. Woe betide any LA Gear sporting "hard lad"/sadistic German teacher who attempted a bit of bullying when Yatesy was in the area. The mere threat of an enraged Yates was enough to send sovereign-ringed assailants packing, whilst simultaneously sending shivers of delight down our weedy spines. Suffice to say, without Yatesy...schooldays would have been insufferable.
( wotofco pissing in your swimming pool, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:22, Reply)

We had a heavily dyspraxic kid in the class
and at first i sympathised that he was the pokemon loving, star wars obsessed, hunched-in-the-corner-kneeling-on-a-desk, reject kid. I sympathised because i was misdiagnosed with the same condition but thts not important. He was the fool who would always pick fights on bigger kids and then get his face smashed in so after a while he didn't have to pick the fights. My greatest moment was watching his face in slow-motion as he got smacked in an upper-cut from behind.The rest of our 8strong group went to Uni, he works 10hours a week in Sainsburys near Dover "hanging around playing nintendo" in the immortal words of Baseketball
(5ifty0, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:18, Reply)

Inbreeding
There were three girls who were at our high school, one in my year, size of a house, mentally a bit slow, and a couple in the years below, both disabled, one severely (who later died).

It was a well known fact (not just cruel playground gossip), that their dad and their grandad were the same person.

That's what happens when you live in the sticks.......
( wefbhweiufhweiu party, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:17, Reply)

The Legend Of Peter.
Where do i start with this guy? He provided myself and a friend plenty of laughs and also some of the biggest annoyances of our life at college.

He was a bit mental and seemingly told everyone all this quite frankly unbelievable stories (from having football trials at west ham to bungee jumping from a helicopter) in a vain attempt to impress everyone.

To see him though, he was a weasly thing that quite frankly stunk a bit. Because myself and said friend were the only people that really spoke to him, he followed us absolutely everywhere. He used to sit there with this vacant expression on his face and scratch various parts of his face and legs, almost like it was the most pleasurable thing ever known to man.

One day we were planning to do a bunk on the last lesson and go up to London to get a few drinks in before a gig. He asked the teacher if it was ok for us to miss the last lesson because of this reason.

One day hee turned up late, calmly walked in and told the teacher the traffic was bad. Only thing is, everyone knew he walked to college.

He used to write his full name out (including his middle name) on everything, and if he didn't he'd screw the paper up and start again.

He was incapable of talking about anything other than music and when we set him a challenge to not mention any bands for the whole day he lasted a whole 5 minutes until asking "have you heard that new stereophonics album?"

He had this massive crush on this girl in our class and on valentines day he gave her this massive card. It started badly, everyone was watching him, wondering what he was going to say next. He didn't dissapoint. "I love you. That card cost me £5 from woolworths".

My best memory of him though was the time my friend rang him up in class whilst sitting next to him and told him that he couldn't make it in today. He believed it, even though he saw my friend walk in and sit next to him.

So yeah, that was the legend of peter, we tried to help him at first but realising he was beyond help, took to mocking him.
(wayneofthedead Dale Winton was my dad, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:17, Reply)

I went to school with:
news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/4587837.stm

It would seem he has not improved since leaving school.
(set_phasers_to_alkie, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:15, Reply)

true story.
i was the weird kid in my class.
end of story.
( Mr. Johnson, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:13, Reply)

bus driver
Senior school, aged about 14. Lonely kid, very lonely. Probably owing to his habit of sitting on top deck, directly above the driver seat and 'drive' the bus. Complete with move down the bus comments etc.
He would then turn to people nearby and say, I am driving the bus you know. Some of the hradest bullies in our school left him alone as he was just too weird.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:11, Reply)

I have shit
long term memory, so I can't really remember my school days.

I feel as if I am missing something beautiful as I am sure there were odd-bods and freaks in my school(s).

But hey, could have been me since I can't remember.
( Capt. Tastic, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:11, Reply)

Sally
Oh my word, this kid was strange. She was strange in so many ways, I shall list but a few.

Background...Sally did a project for me at University (I'm a PhD ubergeek) and I quickly realised how utterly bonkers she was.

Three of her highlights were. No food was allowed to touch on her plate, and she eat them separately. When I asked her about this she seemed to believe that was the only way to eat food. Cue me asking, what about gravy...she was mortified at the prospect of such a 'connecting' fluid being used with food.

Whenever Sally saw a post office van she would hit herself in the leg! No matter what. Carrying 8 bags of heavy shopping, stop for a quick interlude of leg punching! Once she thought she saw one in the distance, hit herself, then as it came past she realised it was just a red van, so she wiped it off and put it in her pocket (the punch, not the van) for next time!

And finally one of my favourites, she always had to wear something pink. Always. So I asked her what about sleeping, pink pyjamas. What about showering, pink hair bobble. What about washing her hair in the shower, pink shampoo. What about washing her hair at someone else's house where there was no pink shampoo, total horror. Complete fear swept over her face. I had found her a place where she would have to go pinkless. She simply finished for the day and went home.

Absolutley raving, madder than a box of badgers.

Apologies for length, its not often you see one that size from a geek.
(Neostenine's maker, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:10, Reply)

What is it about the 70's?
Or maybe it was just my school..
Infant and junior school was like a huge long line fo very strange people.
1. Girl who flushed your coat in the toilet if it was new.
2. Girl who was obsessed with being able to breast feed. (we were 7 at the time)
3. Girl who wanted to know if I would consider shagging my own brother wrong (I was 10 and this messed with my head very badly having 5 older brothers)
4. Boy who would not talk to girls at all and if any tried he would just frown and shout while they spoke till they stopped talking then walk away.
5. Girl who used to vomit every single swimming lesson. (OK that was me but I had issues with the amount of chlorine in our local baths which would have been high enough level to eliminate most life forms)
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:06, Reply)

Weirdo
We had a number of weird kids at our school, but one called Ben was a complete freak...

As well as the usual computer shenanigans that geek freaks like to do, he maintained an element of trying to be "hard".

This led to him threatening my mate with a "blade", and pulling out a plastic baby knife.

His threats of carving him up were laughed off and finalised with a punch to the throat.

(edit) Just remembered that his cousin went to our school too and was in the same year. Their mum drove an old ambulance with "Jesus is Lord" in the bit the used to say "ambulance". This didn't help him much either.
(mrpaulo shaving the world, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:05, Reply)

Dom-der-Dom-Dom-Dommmmm
Dominic. Bless his little cottons. Given no option other than grammar school due to his 160+ IQ. Sadly, what he had in cognitive function he lacked in social skills and spent his entire first year walking up to 6th formers that he fancied, one-eyed warrior in hand, fwapping away furiously. Never deterred by threats of beatings whilst at a grammar school with such piss-poor pass rates that they were never going to oust a genius for being a sex-pest this continued for his entire first year. It reached the point that he was actively encouraged by everyone in the playground except, for some reason, the 6th form girls.
(oodles, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 12:01, Reply)

primary school
i shall start at the beginning, because starting at the end would be silly.

his name was Ian Bellamy, and i have not seen him in 7 1/2 long years. He would rock, front to back, then you would talk to him, and as he replied he would rock from side to side. then when he'd finished, front to back again.

in year 5 (8/9yo) he had an unusual obsession with space and the solar system. regularly informing us of the speed of the planets, and the number of earth days that jupiter took to revolve, brilliant. all i wanted was a pack of space raiders for 10p and i got a christmas lecture, who put him on tuck shop duty.

the next year, it was buses. he began to design buses. not so weird (except these buses had guns and knives and would be more at home on robot wars than the A13). eventually he read the entire highway code at break and lunch over a week and would walk around the corridors extending his arm to signal if he was turning left or right into classrooms and such, often telling people off who walked passed his left hand side telling us "not to overtake on the left hand side" and that it was an "illegal manouvre".
we went to different high schools and i heard that he moved on to designing F1 tracks.
then he died of a brain tumour.
i dont think the last ones true tho, ill find out at the re-union.

mines massive and it aint made of plastic
(bacneman, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 11:58, Reply)

I was the class weirdo...
Primary school:

- I ran around naked in my first P.E lesson. I didn't know you were meant to take everything off BUT your boxers.
- I pissed myself, frequently.
- I had a penchant for taking things apart. Computers, telephones, tape machines, everything was fair game.
- I used to play 'Spy' games with the other kids in the playground. Only problem was that none of them were intrested, so I used to run around pretending to talk into a non-existant 'wristwatch phone' on my own. I had no friends.

But wait, it gets better. In hindsight, I'm suprised I actually managed to get to secondary school.

I was top of my class for EVERYTHING in secondary school. I did nothing but study, spending my spare time reading. Then I discovered metal music and became an obsessive-compulsive self-harming Goth, you know, the usual teenage thing, took up smoking, bunked off all the time, came in pissed, had a long stream of fuck-ugly girlfriends that were nearly twice as old as me (I was desperate, see...)

Did pretty much the same thing in college.

I've only just managed to sort myself out. I'm relatively stable now, in that I have a job, a car, a girlfriend, and a flat. Strange how things turn out when they said in primary school that I was autistic, retarded and would never have a normal life.
(Half of Stephen Fry's right buttock pissed on your dog on, Fri 19 Jan 2007, 11:55, Reply)