One stands out
In my 7th and 8th grade history classes I had the pleasure of having the same teacher twice. Mr. Driscoll was a superb teacher, but he was a bit.. off kilter.

Usually he's class was like any other social studies class, but on some days he would tell use we were all going to fail, or never get anywhere in life, throwing some of the biggest fits I've ever seen an adult throw. Once he was so upset he hit his desk. Again, nothing to weird about that, but he managed to break the table and his hand.

Like most the responses he seemed pervier then most teachers, constantly looking down girls shirts and what not. He also had a shirt which we thought was quite obiviously from a strip club.

Me and my friend always tried to out do each other on halloween costumes every year, and 8th grade was no different. He made an "elaborate" Osama bin Laden costume the year before, I wasn't going to stand to lose twice in a row. So my Mr. Driscoll costume was born. I started with a shirt and a "print your own shirt designs" paper. With my shirt proudly blazing "CHA-CHA CLUB" I set out to give the illusion of chest hair and underarm stains, and finishing it all off with a playboy. In a weird coincidence he wore his "Cha-Cha Club" shirt that "halloween" schoolday. (In case you were wondering, I enjoyed the candy bar my friend bought me.)

In an unrelated note he walked in on Jessica Swallows (I swear to god, her real name) and some guy with their pants down in his classroom.
(The If has remembered this site., Wed 9 Nov 2005, 18:20, Reply)

mr slippyfist i know ya school well
i know the outcast well a scottish kid, call him DC for now - used to also run around screaming warp nine -
then i always had a (fake) note - to get out of funnings lessons i think that hernia lasted me 8 years out of pe - then he got annoyed then me old man kicked his head in *hehe*

do you remember mr's white what a fecking bitch
tried to get out of doing maths homework for her (head of year 5 and looked like hitlers female twin) i told her i was at a family thing couldnt get out of it - she believed me - then spoke to me sister - after school it took mum, dad, and two other people to get us off eachother (well she wanted to kill me for lying)

edit -
also had a real pukka teacher miss addy - real goodun - helped the councellors to try and fix my warped lil mind when me mum was dying, and even turned up at here funeral to make sure i was ok - top person - was a real credit to a shite school
( hooker1uk Filth monger of the lowest degree!, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 18:19, Reply)

niceandwarmandhot...
surely that means he had a really good attention span...?
(qdamik, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 18:09, Reply)

Smell my fingers
Imagine the scene: 3 girls, one me very overdeveloped for a 13 year old, other 2 skanks hiding inside because of rain. All of a sudden Mr. Wood my (perverted skirt lifter) english teacher comes in. Now we think crap we are going to get detention for not standing in the drizzle when a very strange event unfolds.

Teach: hello girls, what are you doing here?'

Us: errrr, looking after the pond cus' the year sixes are trying to get in it?

we point to the indoor pond and plants surrounding it.

teacher: hang on..

He runs off across the pond, jumps on a stepping stone, puts on foot in the water grabs a leaf and rubs his fingers on it...

He comes back after this jumping, running and climbing trees, we think he's about to give us some kind of plant related detention or poison

'Smell my fingers!'

Us: errr.. no thanks... (backing away slowly)

Teach: they smell of lemon..

Now is it just me or is this weird behaviour for a teacher?
( squiddylyd Once you pop you can't stop!, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:59, Reply)

where to start?
Mr Mooris - (french) scary man. big dude, took snuff in class, we used to shut up whenever he shouted the number 3.

Mr Coper - our alcoholic music teacher. used to get pissed and throw the whole class out of the lesson, and get drunk in his office. also had a memorable fight with:

Dr Ichynacho (french again)- absolute fruit loop. bizarre variety of wigs, her son was the youngest person to be signed by Sony Records, and she went a bit apeshit at a parents evening when everyone in the year said she'd tried to bribe us to say she was any good

pretty certain some of the other teachers were wife-swapping, and one of them shagged a pupil. I love inner city schools!

(names changed a little bit to prevent any legal action)
( Godzuki needs more sleep., Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:55, Reply)

Mr wilkinson is dead???
Mr wilkinson is dead??? How did i not know this? and second, you are talking about the Mr Wilkinson at vesey? e-mail me at [email protected] , im intreeged to know who you are now
(kramit http://lpjam.blogspot.com/ woo yay, blog spam, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:55, Reply)

proper stories
profoundly deaf, but a great maths teacher. Only one problem - attention span of a gnat. You could ask him ANY question (eg. "Sir, I've found this image of a footbridge in Wales. It appears to be made out of slate. How is this made?") and he would go off on a tangient, meaning you could talk quietly through the corners of your mouth for the lesson and not do maths at all. This only backfired once, when he was explaining how microphones worked, and didn't see a girl trying to get his attention, who then promptly chundered all over the desks.

Mrs Small, who WAS the midget from From Russia With Love. Except a nice lady.

The French-Canadian French teacher, who kept a hockey stick in his cupboard and would smack desks with it full whack if a student pissed him off. He also once broke a window when throwing a chalk rubber.

Will put madder ones in later.
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:55, Reply)

Mr Wilkinson
He taught us history and was pretty much blind and deaf. Favourite tricks were knocking on the desks, to make him shout "come in" and pretending to speak but not actually making noise, which would make him check his hearing aid.

Once, I asked to go to the toilet, and such was his deafness, he assumed I'd answered a question right, so he gave me a merit (our school reward system)

He's dead now though.
( Didyoumissme1, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:41, Reply)

The Speedy Shy
My chemistry teacher was a guy with glasses about two inches thick, hair like an explosion in a pube factory, and a screeching high-pitched voice like nothing else I have ever heard.

Oh and he didn’t have any legs.

He wore this pair of tragically, pathetically awful wooden legs that went straight as rods all the way up to his arse cheeks, and propelled himself around school on a pair of old crutches.

Sadly he was about as gifted in the use of crutches as he was at ballet dancing. Watching him clomp, drag and grunt down a corridor was certainly a sight to behold – it occupied a fine line between heartbreaking and hilarious.

We nicknamed him Speedy.

One summer we had a school fete, at which one of the attractions was a “soak the teacher” stall. Teachers stood behind a sheet of clear plastic sheeting with a head-shaped hole cut out; pupils and parents could then take it in turns to hurl wet sponges at their heads. Oh what fun.

Speedy, being a good old sort really, did his bit and lurched & wobbled up to the stall to undergo his stint behind the plastic sheeting. It went quite well considering, you could see most kids’ respect levels rising as he took a few sponges in the face and yet remained smiling, as always.

Then one fifth form girl, not the brightest, grabbed a soggy sponge from the bucket, skipped & giggled right up to poor Speedy – and shoved it into his face really hard.

What happened next could perhaps best be visualised by imagining a coconut being knocked off it’s perch at a coconut shy. Except that the coconut was Speedy’s body, and the perch was his wooden legs – from which he rapidly became disengaged in a flurry of flailing crutches and strange yelping noises.

All that was left was a tangled pile of artificial limb and wet cripple.
.
(Ali Bongo 9000 Ali Bongo 9000, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:39, Reply)

wales v england
it's not wierd, but it deserves an honourable mention...

Two English teachers, one specialising in Language, the other Literature. One Welsh, one English.

They would send first years across to each others lessons and have them read a note out loud to their opposite. Thus:

Miniscule 1st-year walks in, trembling. Big Welsh teacher shouts "YES?" in Brian Blessed voice.

1st-year uncurls note and reads:
"Mr Literature (*) would like the fat Welsh sheep-shagging git to know that there is a department meeting before the next period."

Mr Language (*) smiles, writes another note, and tells him to read this one out loud and sends him on his way, back to Mr Literature for the next round.

In one or Mr Literature's classes, we had a 1st year come in who read out:
"Mr Language would like to inform the stuffy colonial English wanker there are no more copies of Macbeth left in the cupboard, so he can go shove his cocking literature notes up his tight stiff upper rectum"

oh, the fun. The Welshman always came up with the better insults, we found.

(* I cannot, for the life of me, remember their names. But they retired before my 3rd year, which is a damn shame)
(niceandwarmandhot vive la résistance, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:38, Reply)

3 in 1!
Firstly, my French teacher. Mr. Carnall, his name was. He was English, yet had a French name, and was obsessed with all things to do with the nation he called home.

He was an effortlessly bonkers man; he looked like a crack addict, was vegan (and suffering from vitamin deficiencies because of it), he flirted with 12 year old girls, occassionally bounced around the class while in a good mood, flew into fits of rage because of chewing gum on the floor (I was once almost reduced to tears after being caught in the overflow of one of these rants), and would go into great detail about his exploits in Paris with very little prompting. We killed half our lessons simply getting him to repeat the same stories whenever possible.

The piece de resistance came to light in my second year, when his unusual living arrangement came to become public knowledge. His room had its own store cupboard, the door of which was angled so that it was impossible to see anything inside it other than what was immediately opposite. One day curiosity got the better of us, and several young lads went in to see what was in this cupboard.

There was a roll mat, and several changes of clothing.

The news spread, and it soon emerged that he was going to "retire" at the end of the year. Good thing really, since I didn't learn a thing in 2 years of being taught by him.

I saw him a few months later, and he had a Harry Hill collared purple shirt on under the outfit he had worn while our teacher.

Secondly, there was Mr. Brunsdon. He was clearly bipolar, and would engage in lewd conversations about his sexual exploits with other teachers in lessons, shouted at everyone, would break anything presented to him that he deemed sub-standard, and almost got the sack after bedding an 18 year old female student. A git on all counts.

Finally, Mr. Wood. He was an alcoholic for several years, until the gin bottles in his office were found (they were lined up against the bottom of the window, and it took them years before someone noticed!). He then went away for a while, and came back just as manically depressed and unpredictable. He came in 2 modes-
1. Looking like Bernard from Black Books, which meant he was hungover and so grumpy he would tear up a UCAS form if it were put before him.
2. Looking like a slick-haired ponce, which meant he was drunk and had had time to preen himself. While drunk he was more likely to be nice, but occassionally also went on a slurred rant.

His dismissal was possibly the funniest thing to have happened at my school since its construction. He and an upper 6th girl were friends (or maybe he liked her, and she found him repulsive, I forget), and he made a pass at her. When she said no he got irate, and claimed she had been harassing him. It went to court, and he lost, obviously. This disgrace, plus his alcoholism and erratic behaviour led to him being put on "garden leave", where he has been for some time now. Good, because he was a cnut too.

Metaphorical prizes if you know what my school is!
(youthink, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:26, Reply)

so many...
Prep School:
History teacher (go Hendy!) who wrote little plays about "William the Conker" and made us act them out. Used to rub his crotch on the corners of our desks. Top bloke though.

English Teacher (Mr Colee) - shirts with green armpits. Made a girl piss herself in class once 'cos he wouldn't let her go to the loo - didn't believe she "really needed it".

French teacher (Monsieur Grimal). Anally retentive in matters of tidyness. Used to make us arrange our pencils/rulers/rubbers etc in order of size along one edge of our desk. Used to shout "Non non non, you are not deezmeezed by ze bell!" at the ends of lessons. Again, top teacher.

Boarding school:
The perv physics teachers (lots of them around) who was fired after telling a pupil that he wanted her to "put on golf cleats and trample all over him". Also discovered that his high-power telescope (not a euphemism!) was not trained upon the night sky over Oundle, but in fact at the windows of the girls boarding house opposite the physics labs. My window, to be precise. *shudders*

The Music staff in general. Fantastic people, but very bizarre sometimes.

The chemistry teacher who set up an experiment to show the dangerous smoke produced when mixing two chemicals together. He forgot to turn the fume cupboard on, and as filthy poisonous smoke flew very quickly towards us, screamed like a little girl.

The "fit" english teacher (apparently related to AA Milne) with teeth like a picket fence. *shudders again*

The biology teacher who told us about a "friend" of hers who'd had a mild stroke and now had an orgasm every time she sneezed. What did this "friend" take for her condition? Pepper.

The maths teacher who stuck his hand down the back of his pants every time he wrote on the blackboard. Perhaps he had some weird sense of balance.

Many many more, will add soon...
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:24, Reply)

My maths teacher gave me twenty minutes detention
for smiling.
( Reid got it going on like Donkey Kong, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:17, Reply)

Ahhhh memories
In my middle school, we had a PE teacher (Mr Funning) who despite being very big and scarey with a big manly moustache and everything used to wear skin tight spandex trousers every day, giving him the appearance of an 80's hair metal star.

One day, after a PE lesson, we were all told to go for a shower and we all did except for one boy - the school mentalist/outcast. Unfortunately, Mr Funning wasn't having any of it. We all stood there pissing ourselves with laughter as he stood there booming at the poor lad "Take your pants off NOW, BOY!!!"

Another teacher from my middle school was called Mr Bowler, who taught art. He smoked so much that his skin was a dark yellow colour. The great thing was, we discovered fairly early on that he would often mislay your work thus rendering the whole process of actually doing the work moot. This meant that whenever he asked you for a particular assignment you could just look puzzled and say that you'd already handed it in. It worked too.
(Mr Slippyfist, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:12, Reply)

When I was in Grade 6
I had an English teacher who sported a beehive. Mind you, this was only 14 years ago, and the woman had to be nearing retirement (around 65). She used to leave the classroom every 5-10 minutes to go have a smoke outside. Everything she touched got gooey yellow fingerprints on it. I had a collection of essays with yellow nicotine stains all over them that I found in a box recently.

It's a wonder anyone learned anything in her class, as there was no time to lecture between her smoking breaks.

On a positive (?) note, she "busted" me and a friend of mine smoking (underage, duh) behind a portable during recess, and all she did was ask for a light.
(Ecclesia, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:11, Reply)

A Nightmare Image
She was in her late 50’s but if someone told me she was 106 years old I would have believed them.

She stood a mere 5 and a bit feet tall, her sporadic irregular lengths of grey hair framed her ancient face rather unpleasantly. She had certain sheen to her, the sort one would acquire after spending 3 hours standing in the rain on a dark night (think army dad in the end scene of American Beauty). She had small evil little eyes, staring, calculating… plotting! She wore makeup… a lot of makeup, heavy purple eye shadow, white eye liner and blusher that looked like it has been applied by knife to a slice of toast. This combined with an unnatural dousing of evil smelling perfume equated to one scary looking individual.

Probably the most disturbing thing about her was her dress sense. From experience, scary old ladies dress like… well... scary old ladies. Clad in brown and tartan with perhaps a bubble hat to boot. This case was very different. I believe she came up with her look staring through glass windows in the red neon lit backstreets of central Amsterdam. Knee-high patent leather boots where her trademark followed by nasty white stockings and a short royal blue skirt and belt.

The belt *shudder* was a true crime against nature! She would have this belt done up so tight that her stomach looked like it was bulging under and over it (I just felt a little gagy typing this!).

Above the skirt a matching royal blue top about 2 sizes to small for her overweight torso, this in conjunction with her belt formed a disgusting spare tyre effect around her elderly midsection that jiggled and rippled as she walked.

Accessories included gold, gold and more gold, gold rings on every finger, at least 3 gold necklaces of varying sizes and vulgarity and the largest hoop earrings that would impress even the local shop dwelling, tracksuit wearing chavets.

All in all the weirdest, most disturbing looking teacher have ever seen.

What was she like?
.
.
.
.
Rather nice actually…
(Minty Hit, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 17:08, Reply)

Psycho Lesbian Bitch and Rock hard mathematician

Our computing teacher was an absolute psycho. She used to shout and grab people by the ears pretty much every lesson (We only ever had 3 lessons with her, but I'll get to that later).

She had this diary that she kept on her desk and curiosity got the better of some of the students, so they decided to read it. It had detailed sex sessions that she had engaged in with various women.

Someone had the bright idea of writing "Nice one miss!" on the cover.

We never saw her again and apparantly she was sectioned.


Another crazy one was our math teacher. He used to throw chalk or the board rubber at us if we got the answers wrong and he even threw the metal bin at one kid.

Unhappy with his attitude, a student's father came into to school to complain and after confronting said teacher he initiated a scuffle.

My math teacher annihilated him infront of the whole school, it was a serious beating. He quit shortly after.

While I was out clubbing recently I saw him working as a doorman. Makes sense to have an ex-maths teacher to check the date of birth on everyones ID i suppose.
( Regger, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:55, Reply)

Where do I start.....?
An all boys grammar school in the early 80's was a feckin' magnet for them:

1) Mr Caskell - strongly rumoured to have shown a 6th form physics class a video of himself shitting onto a plate
2) Mr Prince - woodwork teacher who would demonstrate the sharpness of chisels to each new intake of pupils by slicing the top of his thumb open with one an showing them the wound
3) Mr Begley - thin weedy Computer Studies teacher who used to drive a Ford Transit with a matress in the back officially so that his wife and he could camp in it. It was no suprise when he was jailed after molesting a student some years later...

2 great RE teachers as well. Mr Coffee who was a born-again nutter. My mate used to sit at the front of the class (an alphabetical order arrangement) and Mr Coffee used to caress his bible as he banged on about God's Love - it was more like an evangelist meeting than a lesson. The other one was the Rev Richards - routinely used to come to afternoon lessons pissed out of his head and spent the beginning of one lesson trying to get everyone to eat pear drops. Took us on a trip to see a play in London, spent most of the interval necking G&Ts in the bar then drove us back in the minibus in rush hours traffic swearing out open sliding driver's door at cabbies (whilst wearing his dog collar)
( Squid Ink should be stored upright in a cool, dark place, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:54, Reply)

Metalwork Teacher...
...I forget his name. Grabbed me by the chin once (in class) and asked if I used talc. Later got busted big time for taking nudie photos of boy students at his house.
( Biggus Dickus , it was like that when I found it, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:47, Reply)

I've got a load
I'll start with Mr Taylor, chemistry teacher and stereotypical geek. Well, beyond stereotypical. Once he inquired whether anyone in the class had ever tried drinking sulphuric acid. As everyone in the classroom at that time had vocal chords and a pulse, the answer was obviously "no". When he realised this, he said that he was very disappointed with all of us. On another occasiona he asked us if we'd ever smashed open an AA battery and eaten the contents.

Another memorable moment was when he told us how he'd bought his wife (who is apparently quite a looker, although I've never seen her myself) a solar panel for their anniversary.

The fact that he looked like the "good bacteria" man out the yakult adverts was the icing on the cake.
( Noit happy baby orangutan, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:45, Reply)

Huzzah! for -
Cheesy Bardon, the woodwork teacher.
So called for his outrageous gaping grin that eclipsed every yearly school photo.

Never learnt to curb his lip-curling grimace (or was he being defiant?) and suffered a never-ending series of cheese related jokes.
This culminated in a friend of mine being locked in the fumes cupboard for a lesson, a subsequent near-death asthma attack and an ambulance turning up to cart him off. ha ha

Also the science department. Mr Wilcox dropped a bell jar of Bromine on the floor, fairly nasty stuff, good for a laugh and a class evacuation. Science department combine their chemistry knowledge to neutralize the bromine, only to make it ten times worse. Whole school is evacuated and several ambulances and fire engines turn up. ha ha

er, regarding the question, cheesy bardon was weird because he had a cheesy smile and mr wilcox was weird coz he kept dropping bromine everywhere.

Ive got a really big willy.
(cakemaster, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:37, Reply)

Only the one
found to have 3000+ child porn pictures on his laptop, and was sacked.

But not before

Hugging a girl in front of the class (he was about 60)
Touching up about 5 other girls

I sat adjacent to his desk, it was quite hard not to throw up after hearing he had those images...
(David Fishwick Minibus Sales - notmad.co.uk, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:34, Reply)

Teddy bear
That was the nickname for Mr Willets at Heathside school, legend had it that he was giving a talk on puberty or something like that and admitted that he used to have a teddy bear with a hole in it that he used to masturbate with.
Probably not true but everyone in the school knew him as Teddy bear.
This was not the worst of it though - he had a very unfortunate nerd type son who attended the same school, poor bastard had a life of hell.
(ryushi, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:29, Reply)

PE Teacher
Year 3, wintertime, about 2 - 3 foot of snow. So instead of a PE lesson, the teacher got the mini bus and took everyone to Cleeve Hill to go sledging.
(loquis, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:27, Reply)

Mrs. Carol
She didn't last long.

She was morbidly obese and had a squeaky voice. She had a huge Dalmatian which she used to keep locked in her car all day, except for when she managed to collar a couple of third years into walking it round the playing field at lunchtime. Having been cooped up in a Mini Metro for three and a half hours, this giant spotted beast would understandably be rather boisterous, and the kids were routinely bitten by it.

Her final straw came when we were all winding her up during her lesson by throwing cleggies at her (does anyone esle remember cleggies? You chew up a piece of paper for a few minutes until it's a sticky, spitty little missile, and then lob it at someone). Gavin got caught in the act of throwing one at her, and she made him go into the cupboard, and then locked him in there for the next two hours. After a call from Gav's parents the next day, she was apparently giver her marching orders.
( 100% Cock Raw like carrots., Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:24, Reply)

Physic teacher
5th form (what that means in this new year thing i've no idea, year 11, year 12?) physics teacher, cant remember his name, in fact cant remember much about him, apart from the fact we organised a stripper for his birthday party, so he must have made some impresssion.
(loquis, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:20, Reply)

Dougie Barnett
The moment I saw this topic I thought of the legend that is Dougie Barnett.

Dougie was a physics teacher at my secondary school, and retired a couple of years before I left. The stories about him are numerous, and I'll try to summarise some of them as best I can:

Someone in his class asked him whether you would get an electric shock from urinating on a piece of railtrack. He disappeared into the store room for a couple of minutes and came back with a steaming beaker of yellow liquid in which he proceeded to place a couple of electrodes connected to a power pack.

Once, with virtually no prompting, he drew the chemical structure of LSD on the blackboard for us and was part way through describing how it could be created before coming to his senses and exclaiming "I'm not telling you that!"

One of the guys in our class once recieved a piece of pretty ordinary work back from Dougie with "11/10 A++++" as his mark. No explanation was given.

One lesson, we decided to play chess instead of doing any work. Dougie calmly watched us play all lesson without comment.

Apparently, his wife threw him out of his house at one point. During this period Dougie was found sleeping in the labs by one of the technicians. At this time, he was seen around school with his trousers tied up with bunsen burner tubing in lieu of a belt.

While briefing us on an experiment in static electricity, he produced a 12" polythene rod and spent a good 5 minutes rubbing it vigorously against his groin to demonstrate how to generate static. He was completely mystified by the ensuing hysterical laughter from the class!

He did a 'practical' once to demonstrate inertia, which involved us taking turns riding passenger in his Nissan Micra while he performed handbrake turns on the school car park.

These are just some of the things I observed with my own eyes - doubtless he did much more...
( rubberduck should only be used after consulting with your GP, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:19, Reply)

My GCSE maths teacher was a legend.
Completley forgetful, obsessed with motorbikes and when in an insane rage at some student he had a tendancy to call them 'sir'.

He also introduced himself by saying that he had an ear infection and may be unable to hear us. Oh the hilarity we had, speaking in soft voices.

Luckily he teaches me one lesson of maths A-level a week, so all is not lost.
( Lightguy hail satan, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:13, Reply)

seems to be a common theme...
more from the joyous place that was Hyndland Secondary.
started Standard Grade chemistry, assigned the quite young, ginger Mr Kelly (oh yes, name and shame). there was some higher student who seemed to live in the study room that ajoined our class, and my, was mr kelly forever bouncing in and out of that place.
he and the girl disappeared one day, the next we heared of them they were in some local paper having turned up in turkey, as you do...

oh, and there was Dr Collison, the camp-as-christmas biology teacher at St Anne's who apparently managed to break up 2 marriages by stealing the wife, much to our great surprise.

and there was Mr Evanson, who was a total legend. he was a great teacher, dont get me wrong, but you dont expect someone who looks like the archetypal physics (im loath to say it but) geek to have a massive metallica tattoo from shoulder to shoulder and to have various interesting stories of motorbike crashes.

the last two taught at private school, you kinda of expect these people.

oh god, one more.
not mine, but my granny's teacher. he'd fought in WW1, and had a bit of shell shock, but not enough to stop him teaching. now, you know those huge desks with the big heavy lids? how loud they are when they drop? and those maths kits for blackboards, with the massive set squares, with the huge flat bit of metal?
well, one kid dropped his desk lid, and the teacher (who's holding the set square) spins round, throws the set square at this poor kid, who ducks. and thank god he did becuase the blade embedded itself 4 inches into the wall...
(sarcasticgirl, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:12, Reply)

Father Brian Bason
As if the name wasn't enough to keep us uccupied he was a full blown communist( school trips to Poland ) and was a commited shirt lifter as well as a catholic priest. Was actually pretty cool tho
(stuwads, Wed 9 Nov 2005, 16:12, Reply)