» Your Weirdest Teacher

Mr Hungate
Also known as "fat cunt bag of chips" due to the sheer volume of food he could eat at lunchtime. The poor bastard was late turning up for his lesson and was still in the staff canteen below his classroom - the class (geography) got bored after a few minutes (seconds) and started throwing things out of the window - it started off as the rocks from the display cabinets around the side of the classroom, but rapidly progressed to books, folders and chairs. Just as me, Rob and someone else I cant remember was maneouvering a desk in order to see it plummet to the ground he came running into the room. Punishment? We had to go and pick all the stuff up again.

Shortly afterwards during an exam which my brother was in he had a heart attack - the class all stood up and crowded round him chanting "die die die die die".

EDIT: oh yeah, we also used to throw money at him. Anything up to a value of 20p.

Actually he wasnt weird, but we were definitely a bunch of cunts. Sorry Mr Hungate.
(Fri 11th Nov 2005, 10:06, More)

» Fire!

The Flaming Pillow of Justice
I was very drunk. I had been at a student ball, and after leaving there in the early hours of the morning me and my housemate were about to sleep in the living room of another friends house, which was shared with 4 other random people I didnt know.

I was also very cold, having been jigging up and down in a field somewhere in dorset for the best part of 8 hours during winter. So I turned the old grandma style gas burning fireplace thingy in their house onto full whack and pushed the camp bed I was sleeping on as close as I could to it, while my mate crashed on the sofa.

I was woken up by my mate shaking me with the prophetic words "wayne, your pillows on fire" - I opened my eyes and sure enough, a nice lot of flames were licking around my head and had set fire to my excessively long hair. I leapt up, put my head out and then wondered what to do about the burning pillows and cushions. My mate decided that chucking them outside was a good bet, but in his rush to open the (old) front door it unfortunately came off its bottom hinge, beyond repair. We threw the burning items down the side of his house and went back to check the front room. It stank of burnt hair and foam, a pile of my singed hair lay on the floor and the mattress to the camp bed was nicely scorched.

We looked at each other, thought "fuck it" and hailed a cab to take us home. The miserable spunkmonkeys in the house failed to see the funny side when they woke up.
(Fri 4th Nov 2005, 14:45, More)