Have just been reading about my mate's mathematical ravings. This got me to thinking about my own school days. I didn't care much for mathematics, either, just breezed through it, and like the rest of the class, just took the piss out of our tit for a teacher.
My favourite subject was French, throughout the five years I attended senior school.
The whole five years were hilarious.
In the second year, my French master was, Oh Christ, I can't remember his name...! We called him Prince. Long story. Basically, he was the PE master as well. He liked to run around in shorts showing off his varicose veins. We would sing "Purple Veins" to him in some kind of parody of "Purple Rain" by Prince. You see the connection. Anyway, a Monday morning always consisted of a spelling test. Only ten words, which we had to learn over the weekend. If you got less than four, you got detention. Of course, the whole damned charade of a lesson was carried out in French. If you did indeed score less than four, you had to stand up and say, "Moins que quatre," though actually, all the boys in my class (we were all all-boys school - yay!) actually said wank a cat and the old fart taking the lesson had no idea why we'd roll about laughing. Of course, to twelve and thirteen year old boys, this was terribly rude and quite funny.
Oh dear.
In the fifth year, I was promoted to the top class! Double yay! Our teacher was called Miss O'Hare. Of course, like all the other teachers in the school, no-one used her real name. She was usually Miss O'Hairy Bottom. ROFL! Bottom was terribly naughty! Anyway, she was a bit of a dyke, but in a fabulous way. I actually liked her and had a lot of respect for her. One time, a girl in my class passed me a note. I replied. The note arrived back at its originator and she began to laugh. Miss O'Hare grabbed the note and announced to the class that we should all share the joke. Silly bitch. Without reading out what was actually on the piece of paper, she began to read, "Would you go out with Sarah Edmonds? Only if she's got a cock." The whole class was in uproar and Miss O'Hairy Bottom had a very red face.
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5 comments:
omg... I've just laughed so hard at poor Miss o'Hairy Bottom that I nearly shit in my pants.
It's got me to thinking about my old teachers.... I feel something funny coming on, I'll need to blog the thoughts I'm about to have (there's no point in thinking about stuff unless you put it on your blog, these days)
I know, it's like Madonna in Truth Or Dare, there's no point in living if it's not in front of the camera. For us, there's no point in thinkig if you're not writing it on your blog.
You got me into this, you bitch!
oh shut up, deirdre, you are SOOOOOO dramatic sometimes.
I love blogging. It's cheaper than therapy. And you can still do it whilst reclining on a black leather chaise longe. (is that how you spell it?) ;-)
Don't you mean you can still do it while sliding an eighteen inch dildo up your arse?
aye, sideways and one-handed. no lube.
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