| Report for Alistair Gray | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 18 |
| Pending stories (hidden) | 1 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 13 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 12 |
| Summary | Could Try Harder |
Dicking about on the stage in the main hall during an Art lesson, Danny Bailey and myself got bored and decided to throw random objects at David Forsyth, a confused young boy who used to draw pictures of axe murderers. Legend had it that his dad drew Count Duckula.
The first object that came to hand was a Chewit, and it was thrown a good 50 feet across the hall, hitting him square on the head and causing him to explode with shock, casting his pencils and drawing equipment into the air in a true comedy moment - it was probably the most accurate shot I've ever seen in my life.
I saw David Forsyth in a pub last year, and his girlfriend was better looking than mine, bastard.
The first object that came to hand was a Chewit, and it was thrown a good 50 feet across the hall, hitting him square on the head and causing him to explode with shock, casting his pencils and drawing equipment into the air in a true comedy moment - it was probably the most accurate shot I've ever seen in my life.
I saw David Forsyth in a pub last year, and his girlfriend was better looking than mine, bastard.
By crossing your fingers and yelling Feighknights (sp?) at the top of your voice, you were rendered untouchable in any form of playground mirth. Double feighnights were twice as effective. Rumour has it, soldiers in the second World War used to say it to Nazis when their own shoelace was undone, so they could halt momentarily, tie up their shoes and continue having a war.
If someone wants to fill me in with where this came from or why, feel free to do so, unless it's deathly boring, in which case I don't care.
If someone wants to fill me in with where this came from or why, feel free to do so, unless it's deathly boring, in which case I don't care.
Urban Myth: A philosophy student receives his exam paper, on which the only question is: "Is this a question?" The student, in his infinite wisdom, writes: "If this is an answer." He gets an A.
This is clearly fibbery of the highest order.
This is clearly fibbery of the highest order.
See also: Biro burns -furiously scribble a biro in the back of a text book or on a bit of cardboard for a few minutes then press the hot nib into the skin on the back of your hand to give yourself an everlasting freckle.
Some kids in my school gave themselves haggard looking smiley faces. I didn't. I wasn't that stupid, even then.
Some kids in my school gave themselves haggard looking smiley faces. I didn't. I wasn't that stupid, even then.
The scrolling screensaver displayed on all the IT machines in our tech room for about a week because Mr Pleydell didn't know how to remove them.
Shithole power station in which geography students were invited to attend for a week's school holiday (pikey kids went to the Outdoor Pursuits Centre). The week's activities generally involved walking the streets and questioning frightened old ladies about delta plains and longshore drift, walking along the beach throwing sharp stones at each other, and for those of us who didn't go out on the town at night, developing a scary proficiency for table tennis in the dingy little cellar.
Sleeping was frowned upon, as anyone who so much as closed their eyes for longer than a few seconds had their eyebrows shaved or lots of shaving foam spunked on their forehead. There was always someone who'd drop off first, usually Roger, and he'd usually end up going apeshit mental when we tried to put a banana in his mouth, crazy scamps that we were.
I'm pretty sure every school in South East Anglia had to endure the torture of Bradwell power station at some time in their life, unless you took pissy History and spent all day looking at Mr Newton's gay little drawings on the blackboard.
Sleeping was frowned upon, as anyone who so much as closed their eyes for longer than a few seconds had their eyebrows shaved or lots of shaving foam spunked on their forehead. There was always someone who'd drop off first, usually Roger, and he'd usually end up going apeshit mental when we tried to put a banana in his mouth, crazy scamps that we were.
I'm pretty sure every school in South East Anglia had to endure the torture of Bradwell power station at some time in their life, unless you took pissy History and spent all day looking at Mr Newton's gay little drawings on the blackboard.
53450106: Goloshes
Essentially not as fun as the others, but I invented it myself.
(*cough*lamer*cough* Aw that's BRILLIANT Alistair! Susan. x)
Essentially not as fun as the others, but I invented it myself.
(*cough*lamer*cough* Aw that's BRILLIANT Alistair! Susan. x)
My primary school had a lesbian for a headteacher, who was seeing the deputy headteacher, also a lesbian. Another teacher, Paul 'Pogo' Patterson was gay, and used to frequent local gay club Ruby's. Whether this club existed or not, I have yet to figure out.
I shit you not.
I shit you not.
Everyone experiences a leather football in the face on a winter's day at one point in their school life, but not everyone gets to experience kicking the ball at full force in your history teacher's face on the coldest day of the year, then getting away with it because you can run faster than he can.
I always believed the true meaning of 'skill' to mean penguin poo, therefore telling people that you were skill meant that you resembled the contents of a penguin's anus. All these other entries have totally disillusioned me... now I don't know what to believe.
The one sentence that my brain saw fit to remember from years of German lessons. Translation - That is my tortoise.
See also Mein Hummer fonctionniert nicht.
See also Mein Hummer fonctionniert nicht.
The old Wrigleys packs of chewing gum used to have 3 pictures on the back, one of a pair of lips, one of an envelope (no idea why) and one of a man putting litter in a bin. Tear the wrapper into three, mix them up and predict a friend's romantic future.
If you pick the piece of paper with the lips on, then someone's going to kiss you. If you get the envelope, someone's going to write you a love letter. If you get the bin, you're going to get dumped, which doesn't really work if you were single, but such is the scrambled logic of the hormonal pre-teen.
If you pick the piece of paper with the lips on, then someone's going to kiss you. If you get the envelope, someone's going to write you a love letter. If you get the bin, you're going to get dumped, which doesn't really work if you were single, but such is the scrambled logic of the hormonal pre-teen.
There is a place in the UK (I forget where) called Dunham-On-The-Hill. This is funny. Don't think about it, just laugh.
As a follow-up to a witty one liner, I intended this to mean "what I just said was excellent, I'll accept your money via credit card". My classmates, however, interpreted it as an admission that I liked to stick dildos up my bum.
All Glenns are short, fat and wear glasses, and all Barry's are immeasurably overweight. Without fail. There are no exceptions, not even exceptions that prove the rule, except Glenn Madeiros and Barry McGuigan, and they're just the exceptions that prove the rule, and probably don't even exist.
During some extra-curricular activities in summer time, all primary school students were required to come to class wearing a T-shirt bearing some sort of popular character. Why? I forget.
Most people wore a Loadsamoney T-shirt or a Fido Dido T-shirt or some such, but I - coming from the most socially repressed family in South East Anglia - didn't have any t-shirts with 'popular characters' on.
After at least half an hour digging through various closets, we found the closest thing possible - a T-shirt bearing a picture of the Halifax Building Society Cat.
While I like to think I was championing the cause of Naomi Klein's seminal book 'No Logo', I was actually championing the cause of low rate mortgages with 17.9% APR.
Most people wore a Loadsamoney T-shirt or a Fido Dido T-shirt or some such, but I - coming from the most socially repressed family in South East Anglia - didn't have any t-shirts with 'popular characters' on.
After at least half an hour digging through various closets, we found the closest thing possible - a T-shirt bearing a picture of the Halifax Building Society Cat.
While I like to think I was championing the cause of Naomi Klein's seminal book 'No Logo', I was actually championing the cause of low rate mortgages with 17.9% APR.
David Chiswell's mum was a bit of a goer and she done it how she liked it. Singing this steamy tribute to her subtle charms in his face was the least we could do.
I fucked your mum
I opened up her bum, I fucked your mum
She was demanding
So I fucked her standing
I fucked your mum
I opened up her bum, I fucked your mum
She was demanding
So I fucked her standing
An exercise designed so that pupils could understand the pain and suffering that blind people go through every day.
What it actually did was give people a perfect excuse to stumble around aimlessly and break things ("but I'm blind, miss") and savagely wield the provided white sticks in the playground, leading to an awesome clacking sound that could be heard several miles away.
The finest moment came when one pupil was led around the school blindfolded by his or her 'carer'. I certainly understood the pain and suffering felt by blind people, especially after I got pushed down a small flight of stairs and hit my head on the radiator.
I feel I now have a better understand of the blinds. Thanks, school.
What it actually did was give people a perfect excuse to stumble around aimlessly and break things ("but I'm blind, miss") and savagely wield the provided white sticks in the playground, leading to an awesome clacking sound that could be heard several miles away.
The finest moment came when one pupil was led around the school blindfolded by his or her 'carer'. I certainly understood the pain and suffering felt by blind people, especially after I got pushed down a small flight of stairs and hit my head on the radiator.
I feel I now have a better understand of the blinds. Thanks, school.