» UFOs and close encounters

There's this bloke on the internet right,
Who reckons he's an alien and posts really fucking tedious essays about it.
(Thu 1st May 2014, 15:33, More)

» Lies Your Parents Told You II

My dad told me I had to wear smart trousers to a christening.

(Thu 10th Aug 2017, 12:35, More)

» School Days

Are there lots of people in Mianus?
Mr Triggs was a substitute teacher taking us for French one afternoon after PE. All the exertions the previous period had left us in no mood to work.

Mr Triggs knew this and instead of making us work decided to regale us about the two years he spent living in Alsace.

Yes, he told us, 30 bored teenagers, about the very enjoyable time he had in Alsace. Boy did we snigger.

Much fun was had trying to get him to say more hilarious innuendo without him cottoning on.

"Was it warm in Al's Ass sir?"
"Was there a lot of room in Al's Ass sir?"

Our fun was ruined when thicker-than-pigshit-boy, who seemed to be the only one who actually thought Mr Triggs was regaling us with tales of rampant bum sex, piped up with:

"Did you wear a condom up Al's Arse?"
Which was met with the reply:
"Very funny. Now back to work, all of you."

The thick twat.
(Thu 5th Feb 2009, 12:52, More)

» God

Maladicta below reminds me.
Religion was never forced down my throat at school but every Christmas and Easter we were frogmarched down to the church and made to sing hymns and wonder at the sight of the most fervently atheist kid in school out bible stories. (He fancied one of the girls who also did this.)

This went on for what felt like hours. Every boring word in the reverends monotonous whine dragged on forever, merging into the next word to form one big boring noise.

To make time pass slightly quicker we did what all good teenagers should and made up words to the hymns.

“Dance, Dance,
Wherever you may be,
On the grave of a dead baby,
And we’ll wake him up,
From his deep sleep,
We’ll wake up the baby zombie”

“Please remain standing for the next hymn”

The sheet slid on to the Over head projector.

“It’s cumbyah, we whispered excitedly, fantastic” We stifled a giggle. We all knew the verses “Kiss my ass my lord”, then “someone’s shagging my lord”, “have a wank
My lord” and “suck my cock my lord”. We steadied ourselves, looked at each other, drew breath and sang just quiet enough to not be noticed if everyone else sang,

“Kiss my ass my lor…” but just loud enough so the entire church could hear if nobody else sang, because everyone else remembered that no one sang the introductory verse.

On the bright side we didn’t have to go back the next year.
(Sat 21st Mar 2009, 19:40, More)

» School Days

Standard Grade English
I was in the second class(out of four). What this meant was we were capable of achieving credit, but were little gobshites who couldn't give a fuck.
I was sat at the back of the stuffy old classroom (It had a blackboard and everything!) with my friend, James (name changed) and spent lessons either not doing work or 'subverting' the assignments i.e. taking the piss. One of our favourite things to do was the lyrics game, where you write out short story sticking as close as possible to the lyrics of a song. As this was 2004-6 this entailed songs about matinees and disbelief. As a cannibal corpse fan my friend strayed closer to the line with stories about rape and mutilation.
The real star of the class however was the teacher, Mr Mac (name shortened to protect the innocent). He was just a few years from retirement, but had lost none of his enthusiasm. He clearly still enjoyed teaching and the English language itself. Unfortunately his style clashed with our arrogant laziness. Often he would still be receiving essays a month after deadline. It was rare for him to receive a piece of work on deadline. The usual excuses were repeated;
"It's at home sir".
"I saved it to floppy disk sir; none of the computers here can print it".
"My computer's got a virus sir" (Viruses were surprisingly common the night before deadline day).
A month before folio was due (The work that constituted 25% of your grade) he had finally had enough. The face that was usually so accepting of our excuses began to flicker with disbelief.
"It's one month until your work has to get sent away." A tone of despair in his voice. "Not one of you has enough to get you a good grade. I'm not doing this for my health. I'm doing it for you. I can help you get your work up to scratch but I have to see it, I can't do anything if you haven't done anything."
Our illusion was shattered. He had known all along. There was no point lying now, just nod and look down at the floor.
"Now tell the truth, who has their essay ready to hand in." Three hands went up. "Yes I know about you two." He said waving away two whose essays sat on his desk, "Well, where's yours?" he asked James,
"Like I said, i left it on the table." Of course he hadn't, he'd not even started it.
Mr Mac paused for a moment.
"Well, go get it."
"What?" James clearly hadn't thought of this.
"You live just next to the school?"
"Yes."
"Well then it'll be know trouble to get it. We'll just be working from this sheet, you can easily catch up. Go on just tell reception where you're going, they can ring me if they don't believe you."
James was stunned. But did he come clean? No. Off he went.
Half an hour passed before he returned.
"You took your time." Mr Mac chided. "Well, where is it?"
"Didn't do it." came the mumbled reply.
"I thought as much. Take this to the rector's office." he said as he handed James an already prepared punishment slip for failure to return homework and the far more serious offence of deliberately misleading a teacher in order to skip class.
(Wed 4th Feb 2009, 13:55, More)