I won one of the many competitions being run by our school bully.
The bell sounded for big break and we charged along the school passages faster than George Michaels sperm down the back of a tramps throat. Tongues hanging out the side of our mouths like rabid dogs and our eyes lolling about in our glazed sockets we headed outside for a solid 45 minutes of brutal thuggery thinly disguised as sport. We rounded the last corner ready to make our final dash to the school field when we were confronted by Bradley and his thugs.

Bradley was a larger than life chap with a penchant for discipline. When I say larger than life I mean he was over 6ft and a fat cunt and by discipline I mean he regularly took pleasure in beating the younger scrotes at the school. His withering look of disdain meant only one thing: Our passing would not go without incident.

Apparently our crime today had been running past Bradley. Note the crime wasn't actually running, but rather 'running past '. As Bradley was feeling particularly generous he decided that he would have a competition and the winner would get a special prize. In my mind I was imagining that perhaps this prize would involve some sort of positive outcome such as a pain free exit from my current predicament. Bradley's question, as with his previous competitions, was fair and just; as was expected. "So Jenkins, when was the last time I fucked your mum".

I immediately blurted out 'yesterday' while poor Jenkins was more than likely still coming to grips with the mental imagery of this behemoth of a man shagging his mum. My prize of 10 swift punches to the arm, a dead leg and generous shove down the stairs was in retrospect perhaps not that good a first prize. However, I do think it was marginally better than second place which consisted of a 45 minute spell inside a cramped steel locker where passers by were invited to give it a kick.
(The Archduke of South London I'm in your Girlfriend eating her organs, Fri 29 Apr 2011, 13:33, Reply)