b3ta.com user PD Jameses
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» Accidentally Erotic

Peter Griffin's
(side boob)
(Sun 5th Feb 2006, 22:22, More)

» Terrible food

Vagcumber
On a hot summer's afternoon down the shops, the girlfriend and I decided to invest in some vegetables for the afternoon's entertainment. A cucumber was chilled, peeled and duly abused. Said saturated cucumber was then slyly disposed of in a box underneath the bed, in a potted attempt at discretely removing it from view before further entertainments. It was then duly forgotten about.

Four weeks later, at the end of uni term, I noticed a horrific scent from under my bed - whilst packing up my things. I pulled out the box only to discover, lo and behold, said cucumber. It had fully decomposed, and the brown liquid residue was somehow climbing the walls of the plastic box. I suppose it doesn't exactly count as terrible food, but it was the most horrendous food-encounter I've had.
(Thu 17th May 2007, 19:28, More)

» School fights

Heroics
Some lovely chap from the local comprehensive decided it would make for an afternoons entertainment to come round our posh-arsed private boys school for a fight. After downing his bottle of vodka, he proceeded to club some unsuspecting and rather innocent chap round the head, shower of glass ensuing. He then, proverbially speaking, pegged it. Class act if you ask me.

Queue the resident head of PE, a tank of a man (and a scumbag who divorced his wife for a primary-school teaching skank, whole different story) chasing down the filthy bas. If anyone knows Edinburgh, he ran down the bugger half the length of Queensferry road. Tackled him and gave the blighter a seeing to. Certified quality. Thank God for physical education *winkage*
(Sat 11th Mar 2006, 23:32, More)

» Birthdays

Not sure..
Whether it was a best or a worst birthday. Twas in one of the over-sized Harry Ramsden's food halls. I had, fitting my idiom, polished off a fish considerably larger than my stomach capacity, and then loaded strawberry ice-cream on top of that. It finished me off. Yet, as I ran full-pelt down the hallway, I simply couldn't contain myself. I began to belch up large quantities of fishy-flakied-icy-creamy goo into my cupped hands. Soon they were full. Just as I ran past the children's party entertainer, a man in a full-size Postman Pat outfit, my hands overflew and my vomit-art spattered his trousers, to the rapturous tears and screams of the kids party. But it did not end there, as when I finally reached the toilet, I decided to aim for the sink rather than the bog itself. In five minutes flat, not only had I pasted the length of Harry Ramsden's and Postman Pat with my splooge, but I had also filled an entire basin. My dad felt pangs of guilt and waded arm-deep in viscous bile and fish-cream to unblock the sink, whilst I left feeling a mixture of shame and pride. I believe I was eight or nine at the time.
(Fri 9th Dec 2005, 19:04, More)

» Your Weirdest Teacher

/lurk
Ginger maths teacher, was new to the job. Poor bugger got lumped with our class for a special set of extra classes at friday lunchtimes. Natch, we did jack all afternoon. To alleviate the boredom, we came up with increasingly inane schemes to provoke his twitchy nerves. Some mates and I sat in the front row and kept moving the tables forward every time he turned. When he only had about a foot of space left to move, he ran into the closet and yelled, "If it’s a fight you want, it’s a fight you'll have". He ran back out and jumped onto his desk, brandishing a rubber rapier and an eye patch. We laughed at him for about ten minutes, then left.

An english teacher we had was most likely a secret gayer, he had every Frank Sinatra bootleg, and made us watch every mel brooks film. He also had a penchant for messing with our heads. One lesson he told us someone had complained about the racist humour in blazing saddles so we couldn’t watch any more mel brooks. Then he watched our boys-school inquisition unfold, until we reached the shocked conclusion that it must have been that freak who sat next to me, and whom we all knew was clearly some kind of child murderer. After half an hour of interrogation our teacher told us he was taking the piss, and started the video of young frankenstein.

One well-known psychotic geography teacher, mr wood, was in the habit of screaming at his class that they were a bunch of reprobates and lowlifes. His magnum opus was a bit of banter about parental professions. A:"My dad's an organic farmer." B:"Haha! What a gayer!" Mr.Wood:"Oh! What does your dad do B? Hmm? Tell me? Oh. I forgot. He's dead." One of those heart-warming moments.

Another eponymous geography teacher, mr shephard, used to keep a crowbar in his desk to threaten the little second years. He also managed to tip over a minibus on the school trip up north to Carbisdale. What a legend.

And a mate in my college just finished up with a tutor who had to leave his old college because of a bit of a scandal. He was in the habit of bedding the local hookers and then reviewing and star rating them on a website. Incidentally, he also used to get into a bit of lecherous mischief with his students.

That’s all the interesting ones, methinks.
Apologies for length, et al.
(Tue 15th Nov 2005, 11:35, More)
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