Stalker Boy actually does something funny.
(A pearoast, possibly a pearoast of a pearoast).

I've mentioned my rather dim, very odd and frankly perverted A-level German teacher, Ingolf, in previous posts. Ingolf was best described as "special", I think; his grasp of English, let alone slang, was absolutely minimal and we did manage to use this to our advantage on one glorious occasion.

If you read this, Ingolf, I still think you're a twat.

Ingolf got us on a one-day seminar thing at a language institute course in Russell Square in London in the November of our AS year. So me, Slag of the Universe (aka my ex-best friend) and Stalker Boy reluctantly got the train to London with Ingolf one cold Wednesday morning. Well, less reluctantly than being driven by him in his microscopic Fiat, especially considering he had no insurance, no tax... and no licence.

We spent the morning in Russell Square being bored to tears in the "learning German" seminar and taking the piss out of the assigned sheets of work, before having lunch in a pancake shop somewhere near Russell Square (if anyone knows where this is, tell me while I'm London-based, these pancakes were fabulous), followed by a brief trip to Oxford Street, before Ingolf realised "Ah ja! Our train is leaving in half an hour!"

Did we use the Tube? No.
Did we use a bus? No.
Did we get a black cab? Did we fuck.

He made us run from Russell Square to St Pancras, to arrive just in time to see our train pulling out of the station. Glares and cursing from everyone except Ingolf, who reacts simply with "oh dear, the train appears to have left without us."

Luckily, there was another train passing through Leicester leaving ten minutes later, and we got on that one. Stalker Boy, Slag of the Universe and I managed to get seats round a table and Ingolf got himself a seat elsewhere, oblivious to the fact we had a table until about half an hour into the journey, when he got up to go to the toilet and cried "Ah ja, here you are!!" and joined us to bore us to death/traumatise us by talking about Goethe and Somalian skirts and dildos as usual. The conversation eventually turned to music, and he asked us a question.

"What is the word in English for music from the '60s and '70s, for older people... music like Andy Williams?"
Stalker Boy considered this point for a moment, and delighting as he did in fucking with people, replied "Oooh, we call that 'shite', sir."
"Ah ja."

And no more was said on the subject. The next interesting thing that happened was Ingolf running down the platform at Hinckley station after the departing train yelling "WAIT!!! You have my keys!!!" before admitting defeat and letting us call Stalker Boy's mum to come and pick us up.

The following day, we have a German class with our other German teacher, who arrives in a foul mood and calls us all mean and cruel.

Why?

Ingolf had, in fact, gone up to our headmaster in the staffroom that morning with the intention of having a serious discussion about music, and had decided to put his new word to use, telling the headmaster "in Germany, we listen to a lot of shite."

The resultant bollocking was more than worth it, as was being made to apologise to Ingolf, but as he was a cunt of the highest order, it really didn't matter and we continued to play as many tricks as was humanly possible on him for the remainder of sixth form.
( Maladicta, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 20:55, 5 replies)

"Shite"
That's funny as fuck.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 22:43, closed)

I believe the restaurant is called
My Old Dutch.
(wellgroomedwookiee is a filthy-minded hobgoblin, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 23:36, closed)

^ Whee, thank you! :)
I shall head pancakewards at some point soon!
( Maladicta, Thu 21 Aug 2008, 23:53, closed)

Office lol
Excellent stuff.
(Evilweevil is covered in bees, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 12:38, closed)

He made you run...
...from Russell Square to St Pancras? The bastard!
(claireyfairy There's a smell in here that will outlast religion, Fri 22 Aug 2008, 16:04, closed)