Our headmaster
at upper school was a weird kind of mix between Larry Grayson, Mr Humphries (Are You Being Served) and a lizard. He wore orange nylon shirts, slacks, blazers with overly polished brass buttons and usually rounded his outfit off with a macrame spectacle chain to hold his half lense, nose perchers close to his heart. His nick name was Vassy, as rumour had it, he was once caught in his office applying vaseline to his sphincter. Oh how cruel kids can be.

He was hideously out of touch with the pupils, the running of the school and I guess the other teachers too. But not with his sphincter.

The incident that springs to mind had quite a build up. It involved a whole weekend, me, magic mushrooms, a party, a school governors daughter, angry parents, the police, my arrest and a night in casualty. The upshot was that I had to stay off school to see if the incident made the local papers, and if so I would have to be expelled as an example. Fortunately it didn't happen so I could go back to school.

On my first day back at school everyone who was at the party was called to a classroom during afternoon assembly. We were all sat there with an idea of what was going to happen when in walked Vassy and the pastoral head (who was a decent guy, doing it for the kids... yeah!). Vassy stood in front of the assembled youths and produced some speech flashcards. As you can guess the atomsphere was quite tense, one of "We're going to get such a bollocking...." I think his speech went something like this:

"Some of you have been very irresponsible. Some of you have been quite stupid, and some of you have been just plain naughty..."

The classroom of youths collapsed into peals of laughter, which took a very long time to die down. He left the room before it did and never got to finish his carefully planned speech. He left the school fairly shortly after that.

We also had a religious education teacher that used to fill in for missing PE teachers. He still lived with his mum and was always on some kind of power trip. He loved cricket and would torture us in PE by throwing proper cricket balls as high as he could, waiting for them to start descending then calling your name to catch them. The worst was when you were bowling. He'd stand in the umpires position, put his hand down the back of his jogging bottoms and feel his own arse. The position of wicket keeper was highly fought over.
(ralphseviltwin, Fri 11 Nov 2005, 10:07, Reply)