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)