| Report for Derek Moseley | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 5 |
| Rejected stories | 3 |
| Deleted stories | 14 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
You may remember that Garbage Pail Kid stickers also had 'licenses'on the back of them e.g. 'license not to clean your room'; 'license to stay up late' etc. At the end of 2nd year maths, Mr Aherne's request to have the previous weeks homework handed in was met by Jason Attar handing in a 'license not to do homework'. He was called a 'halfwit' and sent to the referral base.
Sam's Latter's dad had the best collection of jazz mags in the school, and could always be relied upon to magic you up a copy now and again. We thought that it would be nice to treat our year 2 form teacher to some 'gentleman's relish' by placing a classic 1984 copy of Knave in his class register. The cheer that went up as he waved the copy around asking who was responsible attracted the head of year, much to both of their embarrassment.
Beneath our assembley hall was the fabled 'special unit'. Everybody wanted to get sent to the 'unit'. All you did was play pool all day, punch a punchbag dangling from the ceiling rather than hit the teacher (or each other), and have a nice chat with an understanding lady who never taught anybody else. Nobody really twigged that people got sent to the unit for a couple of weeks, and then were packed of, never to be seen again. Nobody ever returned. Year 1 wag, Junior Burke, disappeared into the unit after showing his willy to Dionne Bowen during French. He was spotted a couple of years later coming out of a 'special school'.
One of our supply teachers, Mr Orchard, was a member of the Bagwaan sect. He used to come to school decked out in garish Bagwaan colours, like the little purple suit he used to wear. He also donned a beady necklace with a picture of Bagwaan in it. None of the kids in my school ever watched the news on TV. Apart from this day when Bagwaan decided to do a bunk to South America after embezzling millions upon millions of his followers money.
Next day Mr Orchard came to school in a bog-standard jeans & t-shirt. For six months he got asked "where's your purple clothes, sir?" and "are you poor now, sir? Do you need to do overtime, Sir?"
Next day Mr Orchard came to school in a bog-standard jeans & t-shirt. For six months he got asked "where's your purple clothes, sir?" and "are you poor now, sir? Do you need to do overtime, Sir?"
Mr Foolish was the name given to a rather unfortunate supply teacher who was afflicted by cerebral palsy. Being a sympathetic group of young people, the idea of being taught by a mong was hilarious.
When Mr Foolish was at the blackboard, you'd each take turns to go up to the front of the class and start tugging at his sleeve. When he looked around, you'd just stand there, tugging at his sleeve, saying "you alright, Sir?". Once, after having this done half a dozen times in the space of 45 minutes, he lost his rag, and asked John Shannon why he kept touching him, and "was he a queer?"
To which the class, who normally found homosexuality a source of great amusement, turned indignant, and grassed him up to the head of year for being homophobic.
When Mr Foolish was at the blackboard, you'd each take turns to go up to the front of the class and start tugging at his sleeve. When he looked around, you'd just stand there, tugging at his sleeve, saying "you alright, Sir?". Once, after having this done half a dozen times in the space of 45 minutes, he lost his rag, and asked John Shannon why he kept touching him, and "was he a queer?"
To which the class, who normally found homosexuality a source of great amusement, turned indignant, and grassed him up to the head of year for being homophobic.
In year 3 our class had a surprise guest - a new boy from Portugal. Our form teacher put the new lad in the care of Kenny Sheldrick, who was asked to keep an eye on him. Why the teacher did this, god alone knows. For Kenny was a well-known shithead, and complete pisstaker.
After the bell for class went, Kenny gave the new boy his first introduction to the colloquialisms of the English language. In a mock dago accent, Kenny pointed to each of us in turn and said "Meeee, heeem, heeem, and heem, say you poof!"
To which the new boy burst into tears, and said "Me poof? You bad!"
After the bell for class went, Kenny gave the new boy his first introduction to the colloquialisms of the English language. In a mock dago accent, Kenny pointed to each of us in turn and said "Meeee, heeem, heeem, and heem, say you poof!"
To which the new boy burst into tears, and said "Me poof? You bad!"
This ghostly apparition would appear in random places all over the school and surrounding area. Sprayed 4 foot high in silver paint, you'd turn a corner into a stairwell or classroom and you'd find a huge nob, signed 'the phantom cock' awaiting you. This led to a much debate on 'who was the phantom cock', and a assembly lecture on how the school was 'our' environment' and how it is being 'spoilt' for all of us.
I had my suspicions. I reckon that it was that Ben Preston in year 4.
I had my suspicions. I reckon that it was that Ben Preston in year 4.
Buster Bloodvessel's 'Lip Up Fatty' was penned as a kind of Fat Pride anthem. So successful was it, that packs of Dr Marten shod rude-boys would hunt the playgrounds for anybody that could be decribed as portly, and encouragingly sing it to them; all the while encircling the chosen lardarse and sticking six toecaps up his bumpiece.
The moniker given to Onis Linton, a West Indian lad of prominent facial furniture, by the highly PC 4th year group of Acland Burghley School, London.
The moniker given to Onis Linton, a West Indian lad of prominent facial furniture, by the highly PC 4th year group of Acland Burghley School, London.
A general slating from one of your peers would be accompanied by hoots of derision from the rest of your classmates, who would loudly inform you that you've been 'cussed'. Quite often it would take the form of "Awww mate! Did you hear that?!? You've been cussed!!"
Unless you'd just been informed that your mum was like a television i.e. knobs turn her on. In which case you'd be told "Oh No - did you hear that?!? He just cussed your mum!!"
Unless you'd just been informed that your mum was like a television i.e. knobs turn her on. In which case you'd be told "Oh No - did you hear that?!? He just cussed your mum!!"
Testament to how seriously the pupils of Acland Burghley, Camden, took the school's anti-racism policy. Any admonishment from a teacher was swiftly met with the above accusation of racial prejudice.
Mr Allen was our chemistry teacher for the majority my tenure in secondary school. In thick black felt-tip along the top of Mr Allen's fume-cupboard, somebody had written:
"Allen... In a fume cupboard, nobody can hear you scream".
Great fun could also be had playing riot police in Mr Allen's lab by plugging the bunsen burners into the water taps. It was the only wash that the majority of my class ever had. Probably.
"Allen... In a fume cupboard, nobody can hear you scream".
Great fun could also be had playing riot police in Mr Allen's lab by plugging the bunsen burners into the water taps. It was the only wash that the majority of my class ever had. Probably.
Our school's zero tolerance policy towards PE kit offenders went too far when Richard Muchamore was forced to complete a cross-country run in his pants. No ten-laps-of-the-school-field for Richard - they sent him out into the world.
Given that the venue for our cross-country runs was the infamous 'cottaging' area of Hampstead Heath, London, the story of a 13 year old boy jogging up and down in a pair of Knight Rider Y-fronts might well have ended more messily than it did.
Given that the venue for our cross-country runs was the infamous 'cottaging' area of Hampstead Heath, London, the story of a 13 year old boy jogging up and down in a pair of Knight Rider Y-fronts might well have ended more messily than it did.
One of our regular substitute teachers was Canadian by birth, making him, in our eyes, as yankee as mom's cherry-pie, and suitable for the monikor 'Mr President'. He was the only teacher in school whereby the entire class would voluntarily stand as he entered the room. What he probably didn't appreciate were the Benny Hill style salutes, and some joker standing next to him raising an imaginary flag whilst the class hummed 'The Star-Spangled Banner'. But being a substitute teacher, he had to take it up the arse anyway.
On a minor note, he also had a extra's role in the film version of Batman. He got burnt to death for winding-up Jack Nicholson's 'Joker'. So he obviously got shit no matter what line of work he turned his hand to!
On a minor note, he also had a extra's role in the film version of Batman. He got burnt to death for winding-up Jack Nicholson's 'Joker'. So he obviously got shit no matter what line of work he turned his hand to!
Our English teacher's attempts to remonstrate with Edward were met with a long, protracted 'tut', followed by an exclamation that she was a 'blodclart'. When ask to repeat what he had said, she was also told that she was a 'bumbaclart', and told 'not to distress' him any longer.
The teacher then informed the young man that she was fully conversant with Jamaican patois, due to the fact that she had lived with a black guy for several years, and had him suspended for a week.
For those that don't know, my extensive research has revealed that a 'blodclart' is a 'used tampon', and that a 'bumbaclart' translates literally as an 'anal tampon'.
God, I feel SO babylon. - Mansh
The teacher then informed the young man that she was fully conversant with Jamaican patois, due to the fact that she had lived with a black guy for several years, and had him suspended for a week.
For those that don't know, my extensive research has revealed that a 'blodclart' is a 'used tampon', and that a 'bumbaclart' translates literally as an 'anal tampon'.
God, I feel SO babylon. - Mansh
Popular school euphemism for stealing. As in, "Somebody's wogged my pencil sharpener".
Because, as is well known, black people are all thieves.
Because, as is well known, black people are all thieves.
An interesting, if not particularly amusing, historical footnote...
The name Joey also morphed to suggest 'man-servant' or 'slave'. If, for example, you were good enough to respond to a schoolmate's request to pass the tomato sauce, you were more likely to be met with a sarky "cheers, Joey" than a "thank you very much". Even if the recipient responded gratefully, the rest of your mates would ask "what are you... his Joey?"
The name Joey also morphed to suggest 'man-servant' or 'slave'. If, for example, you were good enough to respond to a schoolmate's request to pass the tomato sauce, you were more likely to be met with a sarky "cheers, Joey" than a "thank you very much". Even if the recipient responded gratefully, the rest of your mates would ask "what are you... his Joey?"
What the povs at our school were told that their clothes were, when sporting their new 'Georgio Gallini' by George at Asda tracksuit top to school. All dreams of being accepted as a 'casual' were cruelly dashed in an instant.
I don't feel sorry for them though - it's their own fault for being a bunch of tramps.
I don't feel sorry for them though - it's their own fault for being a bunch of tramps.
The highlight of a 1984 edition of the Acland Burghley secondary school's 'Weekly Bulletin' was the 2nd year football team being congratulated by the headmaster after a particular good cup run. The picture revealed an assortment of 13 year olds wearing Pringle diamond-cut pullovers, Lyle & Scott roll necks, and Farah's slacks looking for all the world like Brucie, Tarby, and friends at the Bob Hope memorial Pro-Celebrity Golf Tournament.
The highlight of a 1984 edition of the Acland Burghley secondary school's 'Weekly Bulletin' was the 2nd year football team being congratulated by the headmaster after a particular good cup-run. The picture revealed an assortment of 13 year olds wearing Pringle diamond-cut pullovers, Lyle & Scott role-necks, and Farah's slacks looking for all the world like Brucie, Tarby, and friends at the Bob Hope memorial Pro
Screamed at the freshly coiffured as they entered the classroom for morning registration. Also accompanied by a multitude of fingers pointing at the brand spanking new 'barnet', and constant hair-ruffling for the remainer of the week, until the novelty finally wears off. Or when some other mug walks in with a new short-back and slap.