On the morning of our BCG, a huge mass panic was caused by the rumour that Jemma Holt had tensed her arm muscles mid-injection and snapped off the needle. Later versions of the story included the nurse being forced to remove the broken end with a pair of pliers. This caused a wave of hyperventilation, tears and fainting affecting around a third of the year, who all had to be laid out on mats in the gym until they had calmed down.
Not from an inner city comprehensive, then. They're all used to the sight of needles these days thanks to incredible amounts of intravenous drug use. According to Francis Bloody Gilbert, anyway. - Matt.
Not from an inner city comprehensive, then. They're all used to the sight of needles these days thanks to incredible amounts of intravenous drug use. According to Francis Bloody Gilbert, anyway. - Matt.
"Ta ra ra bum di ay, teacher did a trump today, She blew the school away, we had a holiday..."
This bus would also be known as the Munch Bunch bus, after the Children's ITV programme featuring a load of animated vegetables.
as i never had a watch, saying "it's just gone so's me watch" always kept me top of my comedic game, assuring me popularity and sex from any bird I wanted.
These were the children who had the terrible euphemism "special" inflicted upon them more than any other. Technically, they weren't missing anything - in fact, they had one more chromosome than everyone else. It's not fair. They get all the chromosomes and then they get to hog the drama workshops too. Jammy bastards.
(high pavement, 1990-1992) An unusual figure of fun. The mockery was based around the fact that he was getting driving lessons from his mum's boyfriend, but had to pay for them himself. More than that, when we asked him how many lessons he had taken, the number was nearly 100. To us, this was a clear indication that Murray's mother was using her son as a source of income to keep her in sex and drugs. This fuelled a fantasy world based around their abuse of Murray, in which he was made to stand outside their bedroom door while they had sex, because he was hungry and all the food was in there with them. Occasionally they would slip him out a sandwich, but never enough to stop the hunger. The culmination of this mockery was the "Aspects of Murray" collection, which was cut up bits of paper with doodles which made every facet of his life plainly sad and revolting. He never saw the Aspects of Himself - we made sure of that. We may have been pointlessly malicious, but we didn't want to destroy the poor bastard. Well, not until he searches for his own name on the internet, maybe.
In certain circles (such as the US Military), B.C.G. stands for birth control glasses, referring to the thick lensed and framed specs that could prevent most anybody from being pulled. Nerd Glasses.
My (technically correct, you'll note) answer to the question "Where do hamsters come from?" in a Primary School Geography lesson. Had I not been watching a dog running outside, I'd have known the answer she was looking for was 'The Sahara Desert'. Hilarity, as you can well imagine, ensued.
Helen, 11, flung the door of the girls' toilets open and leaned on the door frame dramatically, like a snot-nosed Blanche Dubois. "I've started..." she breathed, as we flocked around her, evincing awe and concern. In first year secondary, it is de rigeur to falsely announce the commencement of one's menstrual cycle in such a fashion. The tampons handed out by the school nurse, however, will mainly be used as missiles, or eyed doubtfully and thrown in the bin.
A friend and I invented "Willy Pads", which we created from some Sellotape, unravelled cotton wool and a Kleenex. We then took the boys in our class aside one by one, explained to them that blood would soon be coming out of the end of their penis once a month, and offered them "Willy Pads" at 2p a throw. It was difficult enough for the girls to comprehend the glamorous affliction of red weewee, and the boys showed no interest at all. One boy had found tampons in his mum's cupboard and cried bitterly because he thought it meant he was going to get a new baby brother.
A friend and I invented "Willy Pads", which we created from some Sellotape, unravelled cotton wool and a Kleenex. We then took the boys in our class aside one by one, explained to them that blood would soon be coming out of the end of their penis once a month, and offered them "Willy Pads" at 2p a throw. It was difficult enough for the girls to comprehend the glamorous affliction of red weewee, and the boys showed no interest at all. One boy had found tampons in his mum's cupboard and cried bitterly because he thought it meant he was going to get a new baby brother.
If anyone tries a trick or Catch-22 against you, use the all-purpose comeback, "is that gay humour? I don't understand it because I'm not gay, but you seem to find it amusing enough."