'Dozy' Joe Clayton was the woodwork teacher. His rather too relaxed demeanour can now be attributed to a reliance on high dose tranquillisers, but at the time we thought this was just how he was.

Once, a potentially fatal game of 'chisel throwing' culminated in someone lobbing one at the blackboard, which Joe was writing on at the time. The chisel stuck into the board not a foot from Joe's head, but even this close shave with the grim reaper failed to elevate Joe's pulse. He slowly turned around, his face as calm as a Hindu cow and said:

"Don't throw the chisels, boys. You will blunt them."

Respect due.

Dozy Joe had a son at the school. 'Kitty' Clayton, so called as he was weak as a kitten due to being a haemophiliac. One geography field trip I shared a dorm with Kitty and one night we amused ourselves making up a song about him:

Kitty bleeds a lot
Because his blood won't clot
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

He could fill a super tampax
With Syphilis and Anthrax
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

His mummy scratched her twat
And out popped Kitty Cat
Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah

I found out some years ago that Kitty died of AIDS which he had caught from piss poor quality NHS blood products. Poor cunt.