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Post by swl on Feb 25, 2009 23:38:39 GMT
Go on, admit it. Sometimes bullying was good for a laugh. Let's hear your stories of the evil, nasty and hilarious things you did to the dweebs.
We had a guy in our class, Peter Brindley. The poor sod was doubly cursed in that he had huge ears and he was English. He had a really whiney, Morecombe accent and was a natural target. In Home Economics, a really fit young teacher tried to teach us boys to cook. It was a disaster. There wasn't a dish that we couldn't screw up. On the upside, Peter Brindley ate everything we cooked. OK, we had to hold him down a bit, but he ate the lot. In metalwork, Peter was the automatic choice to demonstrate the handcuffs we made. He also kindly volunteered to hold the oxy-acetylene coke can bomb we made (the bandages came off after a week). Peter was the first transgendered pupil at our school. We helped him by throwing his clothes onto the roof of the sports hall and assisting him into a girls gym skirt. The day that Kiff Page came into school with a hangover, Peter's bag was the perfect receptacle when Kiff vomited copiously. Peter excelled himself the day he demonstrated what happens when you ride a bike with every nut and bolt removed.
So come on, let's hear your jolly japes ;D
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Post by everso on Feb 25, 2009 23:50:57 GMT
I cringe with shame when I recall the kids we teased at school. One boy in my class was, now I look back, obviously slightly autistic - certainly a bit not-quite-the-thing. He had no friends and we girls would tease him. How sad, now I think about it.
Another boy at primary school was always grubby looking. As kids we blamed him but the fact that he came to school in dirty clothes wasn't his fault. He would fiddle about with his willy though, which always kind of put the girls off.
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Post by percyplum on Feb 26, 2009 8:25:27 GMT
Was it ever fun?
Maybe I was very fortunate but I can't recall ever being bullied or bullying anyone else. I too remember some unfortunate kids who weren't very clean but they were most ignored I think. They weren't very bright either but I'm sure they weren't bullied.
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Post by riotgrrl on Feb 26, 2009 10:26:35 GMT
I cringe with shame when I recall the kids we teased at school. One boy in my class was, now I look back, obviously slightly autistic - certainly a bit not-quite-the-thing. He had no friends and we girls would tease him. How sad, now I think about it. Another boy at primary school was always grubby looking. As kids we blamed him but the fact that he came to school in dirty clothes wasn't his fault. He would fiddle about with his willy though, which always kind of put the girls off. Oh that's all fair enough Everso. The tramp kids always did get picked on, and still do. |
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Post by Ben Becula on Feb 26, 2009 12:28:26 GMT
Go on, admit it. Sometimes bullying was good for a laugh. Let's hear your stories of the evil, nasty and hilarious things you did to the dweebs. We had a guy in our class, Peter Brindley. The poor sod was doubly cursed in that he had huge ears and he was English. He had a really whiney, Morecombe accent and was a natural target. In Home Economics, a really fit young teacher tried to teach us boys to cook. It was a disaster. There wasn't a dish that we couldn't screw up. On the upside, Peter Brindley ate everything we cooked. OK, we had to hold him down a bit, but he ate the lot. In metalwork, Peter was the automatic choice to demonstrate the handcuffs we made. He also kindly volunteered to hold the oxy-acetylene coke can bomb we made (the bandages came off after a week). Peter was the first transgendered pupil at our school. We helped him by throwing his clothes onto the roof of the sports hall and assisting him into a girls gym skirt. The day that Kiff Page came into school with a hangover, Peter's bag was the perfect receptacle when Kiff vomited copiously. Peter excelled himself the day he demonstrated what happens when you ride a bike with every nut and bolt removed. So come on, let's hear your jolly japes ;D THAT was NOT "jolly japes". THAT was vindictive bullying by ignorant oafs who probably knew no better, and who probably still don't. Had it happened to you, would you still regard it as a jolly jape, I wonder? How sad! |
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Post by swl on Feb 26, 2009 12:54:54 GMT
 Take the stick out of your arse.
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Post by Patrick on Feb 26, 2009 13:18:54 GMT
Take the stick out of your arse. It better be a fluffy stick! You big bully!  |
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Post by motorist on Feb 26, 2009 13:23:04 GMT
Ben is quite right  |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 26, 2009 13:33:22 GMT
Ben is quite right .........As is SWL |
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Post by trubble on Feb 26, 2009 13:35:03 GMT
Take the stick out of your arse. It better be a fluffy stick! You big bully! I am posting something that could shock sensitive eyes so I amusing (sic) the spoilytags. Look at your own risk please. This one is worse. Do not say I didn't warn you. And that's what happens to bullies round here.  |
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Post by trubble on Feb 26, 2009 13:39:33 GMT
He would fiddle about with his willy though, which always kind of put the girls off. There was one of them in my class too.  |
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Post by motorist on Feb 26, 2009 13:47:01 GMT
He would fiddle about with his willy though, which always kind of put the girls off. There was one of them in my class too. The most puzzling bit being it was an all-girl class |
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Post by Patrick on Feb 26, 2009 13:59:13 GMT
It better be a fluffy stick! You big bully! I am posting something that could shock sensitive eyes so I amusing (sic) the spoilytags. Look at your own risk please. This one is worse. Do not say I didn't warn you. And that's what happens to bullies round here. Well, that brings a whole new meaning to the term "Bum Fluff" doesn't it! |
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Post by everso on Feb 26, 2009 14:02:59 GMT
Take the stick out of your arse. Sorry Ben, I know you were being serious and I agree that bullying isn't funny but SWL's comment made me lol. |
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Post by everso on Feb 26, 2009 14:09:41 GMT
I cringe with shame when I recall the kids we teased at school. One boy in my class was, now I look back, obviously slightly autistic - certainly a bit not-quite-the-thing. He had no friends and we girls would tease him. How sad, now I think about it. Another boy at primary school was always grubby looking. As kids we blamed him but the fact that he came to school in dirty clothes wasn't his fault. He would fiddle about with his willy though, which always kind of put the girls off. Oh that's all fair enough Everso. The tramp kids always did get picked on, and still do. Sadly, yes. The trouble is, though, that adults always think kids possess adult sensibilities, but sympathy for others has to be instilled in them. |
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Post by chrislord on Feb 26, 2009 14:43:01 GMT
The worst bullying I ever witnessed was when I was in the local Parish Choir. We had one very bad troublemaker called Mark Ladd, who slowly began a campaign of hate against one Andrew Parrott. I would be about 11, and Parrott was about 13...Ladd was 13 also. It started as silly pranks in which Andrew was always at the receiving end. One one occassion Ladd put a huge spider found in the main church hall down the back of Andrew's cassock. They'd make squawking noises at him due to his surname, "BERRRRRRR...PRETTY POLLY!" It then became more intense and nasty, culminating in four choristers kicking Andrew in the legs and ankles after choir practice, witnessed by myself and a few others and Mrs Hesp an organist and piano teacher. Hesp rounded on the culprits, and they were all duly dismissed. There was even police involvement. Andrew was the perfect victim. Brylcreemed hair parted in the middle, tank top, bow tie, glasses, very intelligent, but a little dull and slighty effeminate. I still see him today, and he's a thoroughly pleasant and nice chap. But those days in the choir are never mentioned.  |
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Post by everso on Feb 26, 2009 14:53:48 GMT
The worst bullying I ever witnessed was when I was in the local Parish Choir. We had one very bad troublemaker called Mark Ladd, who slowly began a campaign of hate against one Andrew Parrott. I would be about 11, and Parrott was about 13...Ladd was 13 also. It started as silly pranks in which Andrew was always at the receiving end. One one occassion Ladd put a huge spider found in the main church hall down the back of Andrew's cassock. They'd make squawking noises at him due to his surname, "BERRRRRRR...PRETTY POLLY!" It then became more intense and nasty, culminating in four choristers kicking Andrew in the legs and ankles after choir practice, witnessed by myself and a few others and Mrs Hesp an organist and piano teacher. Hesp rounded on the culprits, and they were all duly dismissed. There was even police involvement. Andrew was the perfect victim. Brylcreemed hair parted in the middle, tank top, bow tie, glasses, very intelligent, but a little dull and slighty effeminate. I still see him today, and he's a thoroughly pleasant and nice chap. But those days in the choir are never mentioned. Blimey Chris, which decade was this? 1940s America? |
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Post by chrislord on Feb 26, 2009 14:57:11 GMT
The worst bullying I ever witnessed was when I was in the local Parish Choir. We had one very bad troublemaker called Mark Ladd, who slowly began a campaign of hate against one Andrew Parrott. I would be about 11, and Parrott was about 13...Ladd was 13 also. It started as silly pranks in which Andrew was always at the receiving end. One one occassion Ladd put a huge spider found in the main church hall down the back of Andrew's cassock. They'd make squawking noises at him due to his surname, "BERRRRRRR...PRETTY POLLY!" It then became more intense and nasty, culminating in four choristers kicking Andrew in the legs and ankles after choir practice, witnessed by myself and a few others and Mrs Hesp an organist and piano teacher. Hesp rounded on the culprits, and they were all duly dismissed. There was even police involvement. Andrew was the perfect victim. Brylcreemed hair parted in the middle, tank top, bow tie, glasses, very intelligent, but a little dull and slighty effeminate. I still see him today, and he's a thoroughly pleasant and nice chap. But those days in the choir are never mentioned. Blimey Chris, which decade was this? 1940s America? It was about 1978 Everso. The odd thing about Andrew was that his parents were as rough and as coarse as arses. There were some small rumours of him being beaten at home too. And he often had a strange smell about him. Poor poor lad.  |
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Post by riotgrrl on Feb 26, 2009 14:59:38 GMT
There was a hippie at our school called Maureen Devenney. She was also the only female Catholic girl in our year.
I once snipped her long straggly hippie hair with scissors. I was horrible to her generally, yet she maintained an annoying puppy like devotion to me, no matter how vile I was.
It kind of freaked me out.
But I feel really, really, really, bad about it now. She was actually quite a cool girl; she was the one who had the courage NOT to be a punk. I think of her from time to time and I hope she's doing well in life. If I met her now I'd probably be the one who wanted to be her friend.
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Post by Flatypus on Feb 26, 2009 15:50:22 GMT
Funny that, about school friends. I ran into some in the 1980s and we sort of got along but there was something there of going back to different worlds, they the paid, now lawyers and the like, I the slum scholarship boy working as software Mr Fixit for a right dodgy computer retailer.
Then I ran into a couple I'd known but never thought of as good friends. One had become a professional agrarian and then accidentally poisoned himself and was drawing some kind of disability while finishing the poisoning job with Scotch, another appeared briefly was a chubby little lad I'd never liked much and didn't recognise at all as a wiry little bloke teaching out in Borneo. In both cases we got along really well, far better than ever at school.
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