What makes Britain Great?

No word of a lie (and probably why my spelling and grammar are so good (grammar when I want/need to)), I read the whole of Encyclopeadia Brittanica when I was 11-12 - my friend owned a 2nd hand shop in the local market a long time ago, and gave the whole set to my dad as part payment of a painting and decorating job my dad had done for him. I can trace my obsession with reading back to that time


Hell, I can remember queues at the toilet door in our house, cos I was inside sitting on the shiter reading vol. 8 for the third time

 

I agree, you can tell the English person because they will say (outloud):

Me, Glas & Bas.

Yet the European will do it the correct way:

Glas, Bas & I.


Unless you're English & POSH then you'd do it the right way anywat.

Mal

 

We had, at my house, something called the "world book." they were cheaper than britannica, but still prett cool. I read them, all of them, from a to z also.
Sometimes I would get introduced in a new crowd thus:
"This is my friend, Brad. he is a reader."
I remember thinkin, "Huh? Is that suposed to mean I ain't a tard? Or what?"

 

My problem was probably that in my school, I knew that being considered a 'reader' was tantamount to being a 'tard'

 

I bet not if you were reading about sports or poontang

 

Fuck, in my school even using the word Tantamount was liable to get ya jumped.
It was funny there...
Okay, I never ever got first place in any spellin bea. But I got second or third plenty times.
If a thing could be read out of the text book and it interested me, what I would do is to completely ignore the instructor, draw pictures, fliuck boogers, whatever, but I had the whole fuckin text book read in a week and would ace any fuckin pop quizzes the bastard wanted to nail the kids with.
I used to get Ds.
Yep.
And that pissed me off to no end.
Why the hell was I gettin Ds? I think the fuckin instructors should ave gotten the fuckin Ds.
Admittedly, math I did poorly in [until much later when I discovered knowlege of numbers was nessesary in order to get money in the real world].
I used to get comments in my report cards like "Doesn't apply himself." "Doesn't do any homework."
And I would get 95% scores in finals.....

It isn't how well you learn in school, it is how you stroke the egos of your teachers that haul in the good marks.

 

Im part of a large family. 7 siblings, myself included....4 boys and 3 girls. Ims the baby


Anyhow, 2 stories, both involving the 2nd youngest brother, Brian;

By the time of the first incident, Brian was in 2nd or 3rd year in Secondary, and had a bit of a reputation. Anyway, he came across this master key for the school, which after robbing the school of fuck knows what, he duly passed on to me, kinda like an heirloom.


Yours truly was duly caught with said masterkey Worse was that when I joined the same school (I was in primary/junior/lower school, whatever you call it when I was caught), one of the subjects that you MUST sit is French (dont ask why, your guess is as good as mine). The guy who caught me on the grounds of the school with the masterkey was the principal of the languages dept The strangest part being that he turned out to be the teacher I had by far the most respect for when I left that school...

2nd story:

Starting the same school as my brother before me was pretty difficult. He had been expelled the year before for hitting a teacher over the back with a chair. I hasten to add, it was widely accepted (and told to me by a teacher later) that the teacher in question had assaulted my brother first. but this was in the days when this was just starting to grow out of being acceptable. Anyway, he got expelled (moved to another school) and I joined the same school the year after. And in my first lesson, the very same Mr Rogers was readin out the register and asked nonchalantly, after shouting my name, whether I was part of the same litter (not as kindly though obviously..). He probably turned out to be my 2nd best teacher.

That was a close run thing though with Mr Docherty, who used to sell us singles (single cigarettes) for 10p each, which were gratefully consumed while hanging out the top floor window of the school, which served as the only window for his classroom

They're not all judgemental bastards I suppose

 

ahhhh the school....i miss the chair battles....

 

If my name and 'chair' was mentioned in the same sentence, I woulda been out of that school faster than said flung chair

 

damn we only threw apples

 

In my school, we flicked boogers.....

 

We'd take the inside out of a bic pen, tear off a bit of paper, chew the paper into a pellet shoot it out of the Bic




Mal

 

We used to throw stones to passing trains at school but our masterpiece was trying to set on fire the French teacher. We failed but she never walked in our classroom with the same ironic smile as before again... Muahahahahahahahahah...

 

Sorry i beat you to it, champ

 

We had a french teacher name of Mrs Groulche, or growlsh or something. She was fuckin horrible.
She used to go on and on and on about 'Parisienne culture.' She told us she wasn't just teaching 'french' but 'culture,' so we would not grow up 'sans cullottes.'
I hated her and everyone else in the fuckin school did, she put on the most INCREDIBLE airs.
Here is the kicker, she would tell us we were barbarians and claim to be teaching us about manners and haute pituite and such and yet:
She had a mouth full of very rotten teeth, big green front ones with gaping black holes in between, and rotten stumps too, and she stank? Oooh, did she stink. She smelt like a fuckin hospital burn ward.
And too, this smell she used to give off occasionally, I now know what it was, was faintly of garlic and rotting corpses. And she would sneak up behind me while I was havin a nap and whisper into my ear some fuckin wierd french shit no one in Canada speaks anyway and I wouldn't understand it but I would get a shot of her rotten breath right into one o my nostrils.

I still have nightmares.

 

My french teacher is the only teacher i remember as a good person, maybe together with my biology teacher...

 

my ekhm "french" teacher was someone I remember vey well, and these are nice memories

 

pls don t mix porno with the melancholy

 

it's the melancholy of the porn

 

my french teacher was a man
so ive never learned french