basically , as it is thursday thought i would start a thread where we look back at old memories , so share an old memory (can be completely random and post it here) mine is i was sent to the head teachers office when i was in Year 6 and i started crying as i was scared that i would get told off.
Doing a poo on my bedroom floor when I was about 4 then gently carrying it to the toilet to flush it away. More of a confession really.
The OP reminded me of being in the fifth form and being questioned by the Scottish headmaster about some alleged atrocity. The old **** stuck his ugly mug in mine and said "Och aye laddie there's a malaise in the fifth form,aye a mailaise,do you know what a malaise is? I thought a bit and keeping a straight face said "Is it like salad cream" I thought the old bastard was going to have a seizure.
One day in infants class, the teacher had a bowl of strawberries. The kids were daring each other to nick one so I did and ate it. They immediately told the teacher so I was taken to the head who stood there shouting at me about how terrible stealing was. I peed myself. The old git had to fetch a mop and bucket so I guess I had the last laugh.
I think I was in 4th or 5th year of high school and I was in the bogs with all the smokers, leaning against the room door to keep the crowd of 1st years out - as ye do. Suddenly I feel a big push on the door, so I double up my efforts to block it - then I feel another big thump and I think "****, that was a powerful thump - almost adult-like - I reckon that's a teacher" - so I jump out of the way to quickly mingle with the 4 or 5 other ****s in the room. Next thing ya know a teacher comes shoulder charging through the now unblocked door and wipes himself out tripping over a protruding sink straight into the tiled wall. We all scarper while he's lying KOed on the floor. Cool story bro.
****, just fixed it too - that actually looks like my thumb after I fell off a barstool in Bangkok with a bottle of Chang in hand - but that's a story for another time.
I used to work at Walthamstow dog track with Roy Keane. It was our job to keep the holding kennels sanitized, and you should have seen the amount of shat we would shovel up in one night. The biggest bugbear was the distance between the kennels and the incinerator, and on a sultry evening it was utterly horrific having to wheel a mucky barrow back and forth. One August night, I happened to notice Roy's Austin Maestro parked at the rear of the holding pens. Instead of taking the barrow down to the incinerator, I opened the boot to Roy's motor and dumped the steaming matter inside. I finished up my shift and went home, safe in the knowledge that Roy was on his way back to Alderley Edge with a trunk full of dog-eggs. The following Saturday Roy had led United to a victory at Tottenham, and I knew he would be arriving just after 7pm for that evening's race meeting. 'Good result today, Roy,' I chanced, knowing full well he was going to pull me up on the dog-eggs. 'Aye, we were feckin' brilliant second half,' he said, pouring disinfectant into a Kentucky mop bucket. 'Anyway, I knew Ruud would score a few today.' How so?,' I asked. 'The fecker's a right joker,' Roy stated. 'He filled up my boot with dog ****e. He reckons he didn't do it, but I told him I'd kick his **** off if he didn't get the goals today.' True story.
Consider yourself lucky it was not one of the old type Rubber Bullets, we used to open them up and put a coupla torch batteries inside to give some added heft. Happy times
