Hopefully one day I'll get to meet you.....top stuff...digressing just a little but staying on the subject of school....ive always kept this email from my brother called "GCSE geniuses"..... Apparently taken from exam papers..... > > These are metaphors from actual GCSE essays > > > > > >Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides > >gently compressed by a Thigh Master. > > > > > >McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled > >with vegetable soup. > > > > > >Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze. > > > > > >The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview > >portion of Family Fortunes. > > > > > >His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like > >underpants in a tumble dryer. > > > > > >She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to > >dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open > >again. > > > > > >The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling > >ball wouldn't. > > > > > >Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre > > > > > >Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever. > > > > > >He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree. > > > > > >The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry > >them in hot grease. > > > > > > Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the > >grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left > >York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at > >4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph. > > > > > >The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. > >on a Dr Pepper can. > > > > > >John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had > >also never met. > > > > > >The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of > >metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play. > > > > > >The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon. > > > > > >Even in his last years, Grandpa had a mind like a steel trap, only one > >that had been left out so long it had rusted shut. > > > > > >Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do. > > > > > >The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan > >just might work. > > > > > >The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating > >for a while. > > > > > >Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on > >31p-a-pint night. > > > > > >He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a > >real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or > >something. > > > > > >Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell > >butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter." > > > > > >She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just > >before it throws up. > > > > > >It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had ever > >seen before. > > > > > >The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her > >first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, > >Leader of the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee > >hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP. > > > > > >The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg > >behind her, like a dog at a lamppost. > > > > > >The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because > >of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a > >formerly surcharge-free cashpoint. > > > > > >The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric > >fan set on medium. > > > > > >It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with > >their power tools. > > > > > >He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if > >she were a dustcart reversing. > > > > > >She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.> > > > > > >She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was > >room-temperature British beef. > > > > > >She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs. > > > > > >Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation > >thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened. > > > > > >It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to > >the wall. >
Someone else that wore glasses, then? I used to play Rugby......I was the bl**dy hooker of all positions I could be; but that was because I was short sighted and could only see the ball close to without my glasses.........I spent most of the matches just following the direction the coloured shirts went........
Football in school was awful, as was Rugby, cricket etc etc (in fact any grass sport) - I think that's why I have an inherent hate of grass sports. Football entailed you (me) Standing round for an hour or so freezing cold while the elite ones Ran round with the ball in a little bunch....great fun...not. Cricket: Always on the outer edge "fielding" but not.... Rugby: Substitute the round ball for rugby ball.... Spent most of my life on BMX's, skateboards or rollers skates...
Lacrosse - who the hell thought that one up And squash Went to a posh school for a bit Fat lot of good that did me ;p Liked cross country as it passed the chippy
Cross country: got caught on the back of a farmers empty trailer (used for hay bails) in fact about 15 of us did - detention was doing the cross country run again with the games teacher driving behind us....
While being made to 'play rugby', I soon worked out the best strategy for self-preservation: 1. Don't go near the ball. 2. If the ball is thrown to you, make sure you don't catch it. 3. If the ball ever finds its way into your hands, throw it forwards immediately - preferably into the hands of the opposing team. Consistently following these simple rules minimises the chances of ever being tackled. After a while, some the brighter boys began to cotton on and do the same. Problem solved.
I put a lad in hospital . I took Hockey seriously and sneaking up behind me grabbing my boobs was not a good plan .. I clobbered him in the nuts it was a reflex reaction .... With the hockey stick . he was off school for quite a few days. I also was always in pubs from the age of 13 . One day playing hockey again a builder shouted at me .... It was the bouncer of one of the pubs I drank in barred My hair gave me away I used to have to report to hair my hair measured at one point .. 3 of us flamboyant types .. If it was to " high" I would be marched to the toilet and threatened to have my head flushed. Also made to stand in assembly at the front with my then BF .. Who had matching hair .. We were referred to as the Hedgehogs. The same teacher have me a detention my punishment was to clean the overhead projector . I did .. I dismantled it bit by bit and cleaned it .. She had a fit when I said " opps I don't recall how to put it together " She left me alone after that. I came out with an ok education and no exclusions Despite all the stupid things I did .. I don't think the school were happy when I was in Boulogne with a fag and a pint of wife beater either My mum hit the roof when she saw the photo I am still as stupid .. Still have stupid hair . I just don't smoke anymore Oh I work with some very challenging children
Like many other kids, I didn't know what to do after I left school. Usually, after thinking about it for a while, I went home
I turned down the chance to study history at school, figuring that it was bound to get harder as each year went by
Some of my younger brother's classmates were caught smoking. They were all enormous toughs in his class - rather bigger than most of the masters. The master who had caught them gave them a dressing down about the perils and stupidity of smoking. His final clincher was "The head doesn't smoke, does he?" to which one of the guys replied "He would if you set fire to him."
