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» Workplace Boredom
The hunt is on.....
In my old job, I had access to loads of weird and wonderful chemicals. Any time we had spare, we would use it making stuff.
Now, in the interest of public safety I won't list HOW I made the following products, but I'll list WHAT I made:
A rudimentary nerve gas
A highly unstable bomb
An extremely smelly gas (insert your own joke)
and an extremely effective kettle descaler.
In the process of making these wonderful additions to the progess of humanity, I achieved the following:
a chemical burn to my chin
a chemical burn to top lip
a near successful gassing of myself when a chemical fumed too much
a chemical burn to my tongue
a near successful bout of hyopcalcemia
and a chemical burn to my eyebrow.
Believe it or not, it was all fun and I wouldn't change any of it.
But by far and away, the best story of workplace boredom came from the shopfloor lads. Many moons ago, there was a shopfloor worker who drove a Reliant Robin. One day, he got into an argument with a group of other workers. Nothing bad, just a disagreement of how a job should be done.
Anyway, home time came and this gentleman, went upstairs to the changing room, had a shower, changed and went to the car park to go home. Problem was, his little Reliant Robin wasn't there! He searched the car park, but it was nowhere to be found. Now panicking, he decides to phone the police. Suddenly, a big hand grabbed his mobile phone.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?! My car's been nicked!"
"No it hasn't, mate! You don't need to phone the police, but it's somewhere on the site!"
The hunt began....
Now fuming, the guy, decides to check all the usual places, behind the factory, by the fork lift trucks etc. No luck. Then he checks around the perimeter of the site. No luck, again. By now, an hour has gone and he still can't find his car. He goes into the factory floor:
"OK, lads! You win! I can't find my car! Well-flipping-done! Where is it?!"
All of them are wearing smiles which would put "The Joker" from "Batman" to shame. Without saying a word (and trying to stifle their giggles), they take him to the warehouse.
"I checked here! It's not here!"
One of the lads, pointed his finger upwards, to towards the ceiling.
Whilst the bloke was getting changed, the rest of the blokes, with military precision, performed the following:
They ran down to the car park and told someone else to bring a fork lift truck to the car park with a wooden pallette. When they met up in the car park, they loaded the guy's Reliant Robin onto the wooden pallette and got the fork lift truck to take it to the main factory floor.
When they met up there, they proceeded to shrink wrap the car onto the pallette so it was firmly locked onto the pallette. Now, they took the finished product to the warehouse and loaded it on the highest level of the racking along side the rest of the chemicals and raw materials!
Everyone burst out laughing and the guy permitted himself a wry smile (in a sort of "you-got-me" kind of way).
That was the utlimate "workplace boredom" prank I ever heard.
Length? It took 20 minutes to implement, but they got an hour's worth of fun out of it...
(Thu 8th Jan 2009, 16:06, More)
The hunt is on.....
In my old job, I had access to loads of weird and wonderful chemicals. Any time we had spare, we would use it making stuff.
Now, in the interest of public safety I won't list HOW I made the following products, but I'll list WHAT I made:
A rudimentary nerve gas
A highly unstable bomb
An extremely smelly gas (insert your own joke)
and an extremely effective kettle descaler.
In the process of making these wonderful additions to the progess of humanity, I achieved the following:
a chemical burn to my chin
a chemical burn to top lip
a near successful gassing of myself when a chemical fumed too much
a chemical burn to my tongue
a near successful bout of hyopcalcemia
and a chemical burn to my eyebrow.
Believe it or not, it was all fun and I wouldn't change any of it.
But by far and away, the best story of workplace boredom came from the shopfloor lads. Many moons ago, there was a shopfloor worker who drove a Reliant Robin. One day, he got into an argument with a group of other workers. Nothing bad, just a disagreement of how a job should be done.
Anyway, home time came and this gentleman, went upstairs to the changing room, had a shower, changed and went to the car park to go home. Problem was, his little Reliant Robin wasn't there! He searched the car park, but it was nowhere to be found. Now panicking, he decides to phone the police. Suddenly, a big hand grabbed his mobile phone.
"What the bloody hell are you doing?! My car's been nicked!"
"No it hasn't, mate! You don't need to phone the police, but it's somewhere on the site!"
The hunt began....
Now fuming, the guy, decides to check all the usual places, behind the factory, by the fork lift trucks etc. No luck. Then he checks around the perimeter of the site. No luck, again. By now, an hour has gone and he still can't find his car. He goes into the factory floor:
"OK, lads! You win! I can't find my car! Well-flipping-done! Where is it?!"
All of them are wearing smiles which would put "The Joker" from "Batman" to shame. Without saying a word (and trying to stifle their giggles), they take him to the warehouse.
"I checked here! It's not here!"
One of the lads, pointed his finger upwards, to towards the ceiling.
Whilst the bloke was getting changed, the rest of the blokes, with military precision, performed the following:
They ran down to the car park and told someone else to bring a fork lift truck to the car park with a wooden pallette. When they met up in the car park, they loaded the guy's Reliant Robin onto the wooden pallette and got the fork lift truck to take it to the main factory floor.
When they met up there, they proceeded to shrink wrap the car onto the pallette so it was firmly locked onto the pallette. Now, they took the finished product to the warehouse and loaded it on the highest level of the racking along side the rest of the chemicals and raw materials!
Everyone burst out laughing and the guy permitted himself a wry smile (in a sort of "you-got-me" kind of way).
That was the utlimate "workplace boredom" prank I ever heard.
Length? It took 20 minutes to implement, but they got an hour's worth of fun out of it...
(Thu 8th Jan 2009, 16:06, More)
» I'm going to Hell...
A repressed story from my childhood.....
I'd totally forgotten about this incident when I was younger. I never told anyone it, until now.....
I was 8 years old when it was the summer of 1990. It was bright, sunny and not a cloud in the sky. I figured it was too good to spend it indoors and decided to go out for a little while. I got dressed and went outside. I was walking down a road and saw a open manhole cover. I peered in and saw complete darkness. My instincts told me to carry on walking but my heart was telling me to go inside. I listened to my heart.
I climbed down the ladder and into the sewer. It smelt. It was cold, dank and uninviting. I was going through a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" phase and I remember thinking that the sewers aren't as glamorous as the ones in the TV show. Nevertheless, I carried on walking down the sewer. It was pretty much like it was in the movies. Dark, that slow dripping in the background and the eerie quietness. All you could hear was the gentle sloshing of my tiny feet in the effluent stream.
It was like a maze, I didn't know where I was. Then, I turned down a path and walked until I hit a brick wall. It was "dead end". I use inverted commas there, because I didn't realise how apt those words were going to be.
As I was facing the brick wall, in almost near darkness, a quietness descended over the sewer. You couldn't hear a thing. Then, I heard, over my shoulder, a faint breathing. It wasn't mine.....
I was terrified. I was facing a dead end with something breathing behind me in near-total darkness. I couldn't even turn to see what was making this noise. It smelt ungodly. Like a foul aroma. It smelt of death. I was trapped and frightened. How long had this person/thing been following me?
Eventually, I stopped quietly sobbing. When I regained my composure, I decided the best course of action was to calmly turn around, walk as close to the wall as possible, thereby avoiding whatever was doing the breathing and walk calmly back to the exit.
I turned, walked and didn't look back. The breathing got fainter. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be following me. I turned a few corners and breathed a sigh of relief. After I finished, I heard the breathing again, behind me. Only this time, it was more like gurgling, like it was getting agitated! I started to run.
I ran as quickly as I could, but no matter how fast I ran, the breathing/gurgling was never more than 2 feet behind me. It was almost as if, it COULD catch me, but wanted me to run anyway! Maybe for its own amusement? Whilst, I was running, I caught a glimspe of one of the sewer walls. There was just enough light to make out something on the wall. When I saw what it was, I nearly burst into tears again. For a brief moment, I saw a bloodstained, handprint on the wall!
I was starting to get tired and thought I was going to die in that sewer at the hands of some Godforsaken monster, when I saw bright sunlight. You see, I never replaced the manhole cover (possibly due to laziness, rather than a "Hansel and Gretel" style tracker system) so, with every kilojoule of energy I had left in body, I sprinted for the ladder to daylight.
I got to the ladder and clambered up it to the daylight. I climbed through the manhole cover and sat on the edge, with my legs dangling into the manhole. I'd made it. I looked down into the manhole, it was complete darkness....then a hand grabbed my leg! It was the monster!
Like the wall, there was enough light to see the monster's hand. It was covered in bandages....and blood! Was it HIS hand print on the wall? And was it his blood? Or someone else's.....?
He was trying to drag me back into the sewer, but I held onto the edge of the manhole trying to climb to safety. No matter how hard I tried, he kept pulling my leg. He was so strong! I was going to lose this battle. He kept pulling my leg! And pulling and pulling and pulling my leg.......
Which is exactly what I've been doing to you for the past 10 minutes!
THAT'S why I'm going to hell! Taxi.....!
(Fri 12th Dec 2008, 8:27, More)
A repressed story from my childhood.....
I'd totally forgotten about this incident when I was younger. I never told anyone it, until now.....
I was 8 years old when it was the summer of 1990. It was bright, sunny and not a cloud in the sky. I figured it was too good to spend it indoors and decided to go out for a little while. I got dressed and went outside. I was walking down a road and saw a open manhole cover. I peered in and saw complete darkness. My instincts told me to carry on walking but my heart was telling me to go inside. I listened to my heart.
I climbed down the ladder and into the sewer. It smelt. It was cold, dank and uninviting. I was going through a "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" phase and I remember thinking that the sewers aren't as glamorous as the ones in the TV show. Nevertheless, I carried on walking down the sewer. It was pretty much like it was in the movies. Dark, that slow dripping in the background and the eerie quietness. All you could hear was the gentle sloshing of my tiny feet in the effluent stream.
It was like a maze, I didn't know where I was. Then, I turned down a path and walked until I hit a brick wall. It was "dead end". I use inverted commas there, because I didn't realise how apt those words were going to be.
As I was facing the brick wall, in almost near darkness, a quietness descended over the sewer. You couldn't hear a thing. Then, I heard, over my shoulder, a faint breathing. It wasn't mine.....
I was terrified. I was facing a dead end with something breathing behind me in near-total darkness. I couldn't even turn to see what was making this noise. It smelt ungodly. Like a foul aroma. It smelt of death. I was trapped and frightened. How long had this person/thing been following me?
Eventually, I stopped quietly sobbing. When I regained my composure, I decided the best course of action was to calmly turn around, walk as close to the wall as possible, thereby avoiding whatever was doing the breathing and walk calmly back to the exit.
I turned, walked and didn't look back. The breathing got fainter. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be following me. I turned a few corners and breathed a sigh of relief. After I finished, I heard the breathing again, behind me. Only this time, it was more like gurgling, like it was getting agitated! I started to run.
I ran as quickly as I could, but no matter how fast I ran, the breathing/gurgling was never more than 2 feet behind me. It was almost as if, it COULD catch me, but wanted me to run anyway! Maybe for its own amusement? Whilst, I was running, I caught a glimspe of one of the sewer walls. There was just enough light to make out something on the wall. When I saw what it was, I nearly burst into tears again. For a brief moment, I saw a bloodstained, handprint on the wall!
I was starting to get tired and thought I was going to die in that sewer at the hands of some Godforsaken monster, when I saw bright sunlight. You see, I never replaced the manhole cover (possibly due to laziness, rather than a "Hansel and Gretel" style tracker system) so, with every kilojoule of energy I had left in body, I sprinted for the ladder to daylight.
I got to the ladder and clambered up it to the daylight. I climbed through the manhole cover and sat on the edge, with my legs dangling into the manhole. I'd made it. I looked down into the manhole, it was complete darkness....then a hand grabbed my leg! It was the monster!
Like the wall, there was enough light to see the monster's hand. It was covered in bandages....and blood! Was it HIS hand print on the wall? And was it his blood? Or someone else's.....?
He was trying to drag me back into the sewer, but I held onto the edge of the manhole trying to climb to safety. No matter how hard I tried, he kept pulling my leg. He was so strong! I was going to lose this battle. He kept pulling my leg! And pulling and pulling and pulling my leg.......
Which is exactly what I've been doing to you for the past 10 minutes!
THAT'S why I'm going to hell! Taxi.....!
(Fri 12th Dec 2008, 8:27, More)
» My sex misconceptions
Change at Baker Street.
I’ve always wondered the following:
Anal sex. How did that concept come about?
I mean, the regular way was working fine, evolution did a pretty good job there, why the need for the “bonus tunnel”? I’d like to think that the conversation went something like this...
(Mr and Mrs Caveman lying in bed one night)
Mr Caveman: Hello, darling! Fancy a bit of “how’s your father?”
Mrs Caveman: You mean sex, right?
Mr Caveman: Yeah. Fancy it?
Mrs Caveman: I can’t. I’m doing that thing where I bleed for 5 days and get really frigging irritable.
Mr Caveman: Awww, shame.
(Mr Caveman rolls over and suddenly gets an idea)
Mr Caveman: Honey, why don’t we….you know?
Mrs Caveman: Huh?
Mr Caveman: You know….do it another way?
Mrs: Caveman: I need a little more information than that….
(Mr Caveman leans over and whispers something in Mrs Caveman’s ears)
Mrs Caveman: You want to stick "what" in "where"?!
Mr Caveman: Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!
Mrs Caveman: For you! Not me!
Mr Caveman: Oh come on! The gay couple down the road do it all the time!
Mrs Caveman: I’m not sure.
Mr Caveman: Come on, pleeeeeeeasssseeee?
Mrs Caveman: OK, but be flipping careful!
(5 minutes later, Mr Caveman is lying back having a cigarette)
Mr Caveman: How was it for you, my love?
(Mrs Caveman is still on all fours)
Mrs Caveman: Well, let me put it like this, if I wasn’t frigging irritable before, I am now! How do that gay couple keep their bottoms so tight despite doing this?!
Mr Caveman: Must be those jeans they wear…..
That’s my sexual misconception. Is anal sex a joke which I’m not privy to?
Length? Well, it depends. How deep is your love...?
(Fri 26th Sep 2008, 8:24, More)
Change at Baker Street.
I’ve always wondered the following:
Anal sex. How did that concept come about?
I mean, the regular way was working fine, evolution did a pretty good job there, why the need for the “bonus tunnel”? I’d like to think that the conversation went something like this...
(Mr and Mrs Caveman lying in bed one night)
Mr Caveman: Hello, darling! Fancy a bit of “how’s your father?”
Mrs Caveman: You mean sex, right?
Mr Caveman: Yeah. Fancy it?
Mrs Caveman: I can’t. I’m doing that thing where I bleed for 5 days and get really frigging irritable.
Mr Caveman: Awww, shame.
(Mr Caveman rolls over and suddenly gets an idea)
Mr Caveman: Honey, why don’t we….you know?
Mrs Caveman: Huh?
Mr Caveman: You know….do it another way?
Mrs: Caveman: I need a little more information than that….
(Mr Caveman leans over and whispers something in Mrs Caveman’s ears)
Mrs Caveman: You want to stick "what" in "where"?!
Mr Caveman: Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!
Mrs Caveman: For you! Not me!
Mr Caveman: Oh come on! The gay couple down the road do it all the time!
Mrs Caveman: I’m not sure.
Mr Caveman: Come on, pleeeeeeeasssseeee?
Mrs Caveman: OK, but be flipping careful!
(5 minutes later, Mr Caveman is lying back having a cigarette)
Mr Caveman: How was it for you, my love?
(Mrs Caveman is still on all fours)
Mrs Caveman: Well, let me put it like this, if I wasn’t frigging irritable before, I am now! How do that gay couple keep their bottoms so tight despite doing this?!
Mr Caveman: Must be those jeans they wear…..
That’s my sexual misconception. Is anal sex a joke which I’m not privy to?
Length? Well, it depends. How deep is your love...?
(Fri 26th Sep 2008, 8:24, More)
» Social Networking Gaffes
My tale of social hull........
Being a newbie on B3ta I've struggled to be accepted as a "B3tard" (I loathe that term). I've tried writing "witty" (note the inverted commas) and true stories about things which have happened to me in my life. But I've noticed a curious trend. The more embarrassing, tragic and above all, psychologically damaging the story, the more people will read it. Therefore, I feel vindicated in writing the following story. I'm quite a nervous chap (read my "Fear and loathing in the dating world" post in the "Will you go out with me?" thread for more evidence) and as some of you will be meeting me on Thursday, I feel it's probably a good time to let people know something about myself. So here is my tale of social networking gone horribly wrong. Enjoy!
WARNING: The story you are about to read takes place in the real world, not Facebook.
New year's eve, 31/12/2007, I was in a club in London (it's quite a big club, you might say it goes "on and on") I was with a few friends celebrating the birth of 2008. Much drink was imbibed, many dances were had and quite a few new year's resolutions were being broken on the stroke of midnight. Midnight came and went and people were wishing "happy new year" to everyone. Anyway, 10 minutes after midnight had struck, a gentleman came over to shake my hand and wish me a happy new year. After doing so, he leant in to kiss my (female) friend. She's a good looking lass. After kissing her, he backed away saying "Sorry, mate! Didn't mean to get too close!". Before I could laugh and say "Don't worry, mate! We're just friends!", the gentleman's girlfriend turned up a bit worse for wear and screamed (at volume which could be heard in Tokyo) "Don't be stupid! There's no way she'd go out with him! Look at him!" and just in case, anyone who was listening was in any doubt as to whom she was referring to, she pointed at me.
"God, you're ugly!", emphasising her point a little more. The gentleman looked absolutely horrified and dragged his girlfriend away (whilst she was still labouring her point). For the next 20 seconds, I stood in that club with everyone looking at me. It felt like 20 minutes. I couldn't move. I felt like a prize spanner.
Now, I'm not looking for any votes of sympathy (no, really, I'm not!) and I'll take any jokes coming my way in good heart, I actually look back on this episode with a smile. But while this doesn't qualify as a "gaffe" of my making it certainly was excruciating for me!
Length? It felt like it went on forever......
(Wed 17th Sep 2008, 10:57, More)
My tale of social hull........
Being a newbie on B3ta I've struggled to be accepted as a "B3tard" (I loathe that term). I've tried writing "witty" (note the inverted commas) and true stories about things which have happened to me in my life. But I've noticed a curious trend. The more embarrassing, tragic and above all, psychologically damaging the story, the more people will read it. Therefore, I feel vindicated in writing the following story. I'm quite a nervous chap (read my "Fear and loathing in the dating world" post in the "Will you go out with me?" thread for more evidence) and as some of you will be meeting me on Thursday, I feel it's probably a good time to let people know something about myself. So here is my tale of social networking gone horribly wrong. Enjoy!
WARNING: The story you are about to read takes place in the real world, not Facebook.
New year's eve, 31/12/2007, I was in a club in London (it's quite a big club, you might say it goes "on and on") I was with a few friends celebrating the birth of 2008. Much drink was imbibed, many dances were had and quite a few new year's resolutions were being broken on the stroke of midnight. Midnight came and went and people were wishing "happy new year" to everyone. Anyway, 10 minutes after midnight had struck, a gentleman came over to shake my hand and wish me a happy new year. After doing so, he leant in to kiss my (female) friend. She's a good looking lass. After kissing her, he backed away saying "Sorry, mate! Didn't mean to get too close!". Before I could laugh and say "Don't worry, mate! We're just friends!", the gentleman's girlfriend turned up a bit worse for wear and screamed (at volume which could be heard in Tokyo) "Don't be stupid! There's no way she'd go out with him! Look at him!" and just in case, anyone who was listening was in any doubt as to whom she was referring to, she pointed at me.
"God, you're ugly!", emphasising her point a little more. The gentleman looked absolutely horrified and dragged his girlfriend away (whilst she was still labouring her point). For the next 20 seconds, I stood in that club with everyone looking at me. It felt like 20 minutes. I couldn't move. I felt like a prize spanner.
Now, I'm not looking for any votes of sympathy (no, really, I'm not!) and I'll take any jokes coming my way in good heart, I actually look back on this episode with a smile. But while this doesn't qualify as a "gaffe" of my making it certainly was excruciating for me!
Length? It felt like it went on forever......
(Wed 17th Sep 2008, 10:57, More)
» School Days
The Miseducation of The Stig......
I hated school days. When I was a wee Stiggy, I was always told by Mummy Stig and Daddy Stig that "School is the best days of your life. You'll realise that when you're older".
Well, now I'm a grown up Stiggy and as far as I can see, I still spend the same time in work as I do in school (roughly 08:15 to 16:15), but the difference is this:
I get paid for my time at work.
I get paid holidays.
I only have one sadist telling me what to do, as opposed 5 or 6.
I can drink tea at my desk.
I don't spend my free time doing homework.
I don't wear a uniform and can wear clothes that I WANT to wear.
I get benefits and perks with my job.
and if I don't like my job I can quit.
Mind you, I wound up the teachers at school a treat. See, despite hating school, I appreciated that I need to have a good education behind me (not easy when you go to a comprehensive). So, I knuckled down and did my work. With a few exceptions (i.e stuff I wasn't good at, like art and history, which was a shame, because I liked those two subjects), I never got below a "C". I even won an award for getting the highest science grade at GCSE for the year of 1995 at my school (trust me, the bar wasn't set very high!).
However, as I learnt in Physics, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Where I was good in work, I was an absolute terror in the rest of the school!
Past exploits include:
Taking a 6 pack of "John Smith's" to school and drinking with my mates.
Getting drunk from said 6-pack (I couldn't hold my alcohol very well in those days), going to a science class and nearly blowing up the lab. (That incident set me on the path to getting a degree, with honours, in chemistry)
Telling a teacher, who I still hate to this day, "F*** off, you ginger c***!". (In the days, when I used to swear).
Playing swordfighting with a couple of soldering irons and burning each other.
and stealing stuff from school.
I do have a few good memories from school, though......and here they are:
1. Our headmistress had a bit of a fetish of the sound of her own voice. Regularly, she'd wander around the school and shout randomly (i.e "Slow down!", "Stop chewing gum!", etc). This fetish spiralled out of control when she used school funds to buy a mega phone for her to shout from (our textbooks were falling apart and she's buying a £200 megaphone?!). So for the next few weeks, we had to put up with her voice amplified at a volume that people could have heard in Japan. Then, one day, she started using a whistle and shouting again, the megaphone had gone. Why was this? Anyway, one day in science class, the teacher was helping our table out with a problem and the topic of the headmistresses' megaphone came up.
"Why has that old cow stopped using the megaphone?"
The science grinned and nearly laughed.
"Come on, Mr (name removed to protect the innocent). You know something! What's the reason?"
"Apparently, someone broke into her office stole the megaphone and left a note on her desk saying "If you can't use this responsibly, then you can't be trusted to have it!".
2. (My favourite) Every school has one of these. The good looking girl, who's a right cow to anyone "beneath her". That means, geeks got it, I got it, less good looking girls got it, everyone got stick from her.
This went on for years, until one day a couple of new girls arrived and they were STUNNING! I mean, they made Anne Hathaway looked rough as a bear's behind! My initial thought was "Oh Jeez! Now we've got it in surround sound!".
But over the next few months, I noticed a change in school stunner's demeanour. She's was becoming unsure of herself, less confident and less talkative. What was going on? Turned out the new girls, didn't like the school stunner and started picking on her! While this made me laugh, I thought "Oh dear, there'll be a point when I'm going to cop it!".
Then one day in computer class, I was feeling absolutely rough due to the 'flu. I was waiting for the bell to go, so I could go home and recover over the weekend. Sitting next to me was one of the new school stunners.
"Oh god, I feel sick!"
"What's wrong?"
"I feel like death warmed up! When will class finish? I want to go home!"
"Why don't you put your head on my lap and rest for the rest of the lesson?"
At this point I'm looking around to see where Jeremy Beadle was hiding.
"What?! Put my head on your lap?!"
"Yeah! Come on!" She patted her lap.
I turned to my mate, to see if he was hearing was I was hearing. He smiled, nodded and gave a look as if to say "You jammy git!" I gingerly, leant down, onto her lap and got comfortable.
"You all right down there?" she asked.
"Oh yes!" (Years before the "Churchill" adverts). "I'm feeling better already!"
I faced the ceiling and copped a close view of her chest. Did I mention she had huge knockers?
"You just enjoy the view!" She said.
So I spent the rest of the lesson, doing exactly that!
3. This story starts in a French class. I was busy listening to the teacher, when this fairly, good looking girl, comes in, and sits next to me. I'd never seen her before, but she was good looking and I know my level in the pecking order of school, so I didn't speak to to her and carried on with the class. About 10 minutes into the class, she started chatting to me.
"Hello! I'm Susan (not her name, obviously)."
"I'm Stiggy." I turned back to my work.
"What's going on?"
"French, I think."
"I'm stuck on these questions."
"No problem." and I helped her out. They were easy enough.
She started getting very chatty and I talked back, but always recognised where I was in the pecking order of the school. About 40 minutes into the class, I sighed.
"What's up?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Come on, what?"
"Oh, this kid is giving me hassle."
"Who?"
Without thinking, I replied, "Oh (name removed)".
"Why is he giving you hassle?"
"No idea. I think he's now pally with other kids, he think's he can score 'cool' points hassling me."
"Oh...."
No more was said.
French class finished, I packed up, said goodbye to Susan and hoped I saw her around.
I, then, went to Maths class. When that finished, I had lunch and went to English class. I came into the classroom, sat down and noticed that a few children were laughing at someone. I wandered over to find out what was going on. It was the kid who was giving me hassle!
"What's going on here?" I said, with a little smile on my face that HE was getting hassle now.
"Hoi! What have you said?" he asked.
"Nothing. Why? What's going on?"
Someone else piped up.
"Have you been speaking to Susan?"
"Yeah. A little. Why?"
"Because, during maths class, she walked up to him (the kid giving me hassle) and shouted at him in front of the whole class! She said 'You better leave Stiggy alone! Or I'll f***ing break your nose! Got me?!'".
I was stunned, then, I wet myself laughing! I didn't bother explaining the story, but he left me alone after that.
So, to the person who stole the megaphone, the school stunner and Susan the pyscho, thank you for giving me a few good memories of that concentration camp they called a school! :O)
Length? 5 years. Muggers get less than that.....
(Fri 30th Jan 2009, 20:07, More)
The Miseducation of The Stig......
I hated school days. When I was a wee Stiggy, I was always told by Mummy Stig and Daddy Stig that "School is the best days of your life. You'll realise that when you're older".
Well, now I'm a grown up Stiggy and as far as I can see, I still spend the same time in work as I do in school (roughly 08:15 to 16:15), but the difference is this:
I get paid for my time at work.
I get paid holidays.
I only have one sadist telling me what to do, as opposed 5 or 6.
I can drink tea at my desk.
I don't spend my free time doing homework.
I don't wear a uniform and can wear clothes that I WANT to wear.
I get benefits and perks with my job.
and if I don't like my job I can quit.
Mind you, I wound up the teachers at school a treat. See, despite hating school, I appreciated that I need to have a good education behind me (not easy when you go to a comprehensive). So, I knuckled down and did my work. With a few exceptions (i.e stuff I wasn't good at, like art and history, which was a shame, because I liked those two subjects), I never got below a "C". I even won an award for getting the highest science grade at GCSE for the year of 1995 at my school (trust me, the bar wasn't set very high!).
However, as I learnt in Physics, for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Where I was good in work, I was an absolute terror in the rest of the school!
Past exploits include:
Taking a 6 pack of "John Smith's" to school and drinking with my mates.
Getting drunk from said 6-pack (I couldn't hold my alcohol very well in those days), going to a science class and nearly blowing up the lab. (That incident set me on the path to getting a degree, with honours, in chemistry)
Telling a teacher, who I still hate to this day, "F*** off, you ginger c***!". (In the days, when I used to swear).
Playing swordfighting with a couple of soldering irons and burning each other.
and stealing stuff from school.
I do have a few good memories from school, though......and here they are:
1. Our headmistress had a bit of a fetish of the sound of her own voice. Regularly, she'd wander around the school and shout randomly (i.e "Slow down!", "Stop chewing gum!", etc). This fetish spiralled out of control when she used school funds to buy a mega phone for her to shout from (our textbooks were falling apart and she's buying a £200 megaphone?!). So for the next few weeks, we had to put up with her voice amplified at a volume that people could have heard in Japan. Then, one day, she started using a whistle and shouting again, the megaphone had gone. Why was this? Anyway, one day in science class, the teacher was helping our table out with a problem and the topic of the headmistresses' megaphone came up.
"Why has that old cow stopped using the megaphone?"
The science grinned and nearly laughed.
"Come on, Mr (name removed to protect the innocent). You know something! What's the reason?"
"Apparently, someone broke into her office stole the megaphone and left a note on her desk saying "If you can't use this responsibly, then you can't be trusted to have it!".
2. (My favourite) Every school has one of these. The good looking girl, who's a right cow to anyone "beneath her". That means, geeks got it, I got it, less good looking girls got it, everyone got stick from her.
This went on for years, until one day a couple of new girls arrived and they were STUNNING! I mean, they made Anne Hathaway looked rough as a bear's behind! My initial thought was "Oh Jeez! Now we've got it in surround sound!".
But over the next few months, I noticed a change in school stunner's demeanour. She's was becoming unsure of herself, less confident and less talkative. What was going on? Turned out the new girls, didn't like the school stunner and started picking on her! While this made me laugh, I thought "Oh dear, there'll be a point when I'm going to cop it!".
Then one day in computer class, I was feeling absolutely rough due to the 'flu. I was waiting for the bell to go, so I could go home and recover over the weekend. Sitting next to me was one of the new school stunners.
"Oh god, I feel sick!"
"What's wrong?"
"I feel like death warmed up! When will class finish? I want to go home!"
"Why don't you put your head on my lap and rest for the rest of the lesson?"
At this point I'm looking around to see where Jeremy Beadle was hiding.
"What?! Put my head on your lap?!"
"Yeah! Come on!" She patted her lap.
I turned to my mate, to see if he was hearing was I was hearing. He smiled, nodded and gave a look as if to say "You jammy git!" I gingerly, leant down, onto her lap and got comfortable.
"You all right down there?" she asked.
"Oh yes!" (Years before the "Churchill" adverts). "I'm feeling better already!"
I faced the ceiling and copped a close view of her chest. Did I mention she had huge knockers?
"You just enjoy the view!" She said.
So I spent the rest of the lesson, doing exactly that!
3. This story starts in a French class. I was busy listening to the teacher, when this fairly, good looking girl, comes in, and sits next to me. I'd never seen her before, but she was good looking and I know my level in the pecking order of school, so I didn't speak to to her and carried on with the class. About 10 minutes into the class, she started chatting to me.
"Hello! I'm Susan (not her name, obviously)."
"I'm Stiggy." I turned back to my work.
"What's going on?"
"French, I think."
"I'm stuck on these questions."
"No problem." and I helped her out. They were easy enough.
She started getting very chatty and I talked back, but always recognised where I was in the pecking order of the school. About 40 minutes into the class, I sighed.
"What's up?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Come on, what?"
"Oh, this kid is giving me hassle."
"Who?"
Without thinking, I replied, "Oh (name removed)".
"Why is he giving you hassle?"
"No idea. I think he's now pally with other kids, he think's he can score 'cool' points hassling me."
"Oh...."
No more was said.
French class finished, I packed up, said goodbye to Susan and hoped I saw her around.
I, then, went to Maths class. When that finished, I had lunch and went to English class. I came into the classroom, sat down and noticed that a few children were laughing at someone. I wandered over to find out what was going on. It was the kid who was giving me hassle!
"What's going on here?" I said, with a little smile on my face that HE was getting hassle now.
"Hoi! What have you said?" he asked.
"Nothing. Why? What's going on?"
Someone else piped up.
"Have you been speaking to Susan?"
"Yeah. A little. Why?"
"Because, during maths class, she walked up to him (the kid giving me hassle) and shouted at him in front of the whole class! She said 'You better leave Stiggy alone! Or I'll f***ing break your nose! Got me?!'".
I was stunned, then, I wet myself laughing! I didn't bother explaining the story, but he left me alone after that.
So, to the person who stole the megaphone, the school stunner and Susan the pyscho, thank you for giving me a few good memories of that concentration camp they called a school! :O)
Length? 5 years. Muggers get less than that.....
(Fri 30th Jan 2009, 20:07, More)