| Report for Blort Snart | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 4 |
| Pending stories (hidden) | 1 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 3 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 8 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
Here's one we learned from experience: copper sulphate, when flung into someone's eye from across the room, causes a club sandwich triple of hilarity;
1. The victim's agony is most immediately and most obviously hilarious.
2. The classroom will be left alone for forty minutes while the teacher runs around, hoping to bump into a paramedic. This allowed for simple unnattended paper-plane throwing hilarity.
3. The next day, the victim comes into school like a jazzy panda with an orange eye, which is of course funny in itself, but will be rendered hilarious when he kicks the crimson shit out of his tormentor.
When this happened in our class, hilarity just didn't stop ensuing.
1. The victim's agony is most immediately and most obviously hilarious.
2. The classroom will be left alone for forty minutes while the teacher runs around, hoping to bump into a paramedic. This allowed for simple unnattended paper-plane throwing hilarity.
3. The next day, the victim comes into school like a jazzy panda with an orange eye, which is of course funny in itself, but will be rendered hilarious when he kicks the crimson shit out of his tormentor.
When this happened in our class, hilarity just didn't stop ensuing.
Sometime at secondary school I invented the following method of escaping the horror of Track + Field:
1) don't give a shit that you come last
2) walk.
After about a week, maybe a quarter of the whole class had joined in this wonderfully un-knackering protest. I suddenly hit upon the idea when I realised that even a bollocking from the teacher for not trying was vastly preferable to actually running the damn race.
1) don't give a shit that you come last
2) walk.
After about a week, maybe a quarter of the whole class had joined in this wonderfully un-knackering protest. I suddenly hit upon the idea when I realised that even a bollocking from the teacher for not trying was vastly preferable to actually running the damn race.
Ours was called Mr. Cheshire - he used to sleep through lessons until wakened by the 'ping' of his microwave. He always used to wear chains around his wrists - presumably to stop the flab dripping over the joint and preventing movement.
Any question on any exam can easily be answered with "Only smarties have the answer." The triumph of this art undoubtedly came when my mate and I translated the phrase into German and wrote it for every question we couldn't do in our german GCSE - which was probably such a high proportion of the exam mainly because we spent our lessons looking up things like "Only smarties have the answer," on reflection.