• ARRSE have partnered with Armadillo Merino to bring you an ARRSE exclusive, generous discount offer on their full price range.
    To keep you warm with the best of Merino gear, visit www.armadillomerino.co.uk and use the code: NEWARRSE40 at the checkout to get 40% off!
    This superb deal has been generously offered to us by Armadillo Merino and is valid until midnight on the the 28th of February.

McGheeny and the Greeny.

#1
McGheen was a lad at school, I really hated him, with me being a bit shy in the first year due to an unhurried act of sexual abuse carried out some years previously on my fair skinned body he capitulated on the quietness that such a horror afflicted me with and spat in my hair on the bus while a crowd of kids sniggered away behind me..I did however possess my Fathers unnatural rage and flair for dynamite like pugilism and after a few weeks of sporadic needling I wiped him all over the empty football pitch one dinner time whilst doing that crying and shrieking that overly emotional but chunky kids do when they get 'rage' and punch anything in sight..

Regardless of the fact he and everyone else left me alone after that I kept pushing for levels of recompense that he was unable to give me, and due to his initial opening salvo of the use of spit as the weapon of choice, I reciprocated accordingly.

I began to spit at him..all the time, rain or shine, be it Summer or Winter I was able, at will, to pull up a weighty phlegm ball baked to perfection by the constant colds every kid in Yorkshire has and fire it nonchalantly into his face, hood, trouser seat ect ect..

It didnt get boring, and as my popularity grew so did 'covering McGheeny with a greeny' (as the act became known)..I truly realised the fruits of my labour had blossomed when at 13 I took my weekly fiver into town to get a McDonalds and a copy of Combat and Survival only to be greeted with the site of McGheeny being gozzed on by 3 ruffians who danced a dance round him whilst letting loose their Lambert and Butler tinged projectiles..

It ended with a whimper and not a bang, I force fed him an acid trip at a house party on the last night of our exams and punched him in the face an hour later in the kitchen then watched him run off down the street, shirtless and screaming for help, I paid him no more thought..

However ! A familiar face punctured my lucid thoughts tonight when I went into Halifax to pick up some paperwork, outside the Market there are a number of mentally deficient scruffbags repeating the words 'Courier, Evening Courier' as they proffer a thin rag of print to any takers, and there he was, McGheen, minus greeny, looking mongish and lost in the biting Yorkshire wind, I watched him for a bit, his flourescent jacket covered in stains and with a roll up hanging out the corner of his mouth then moved on swiftly and shamefully as he gave me a studied look, at my expensive shoes and tailored shirt, but I still suppressed a giggle as I wanted to throw a greeny at McGheeny again ..

Is it my fault life has dealt him this cruellest of fates ? Shall I offer him a job ?

Would it help me to feel better if I heard how many of you were a complete c*nt to someone at school ?
 
#2
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy
 
#3
SiCiv said:
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy

Which part of 'NAAFI Bar' did you miss?
 
#6
reni_77 said:
McGheen was a lad at school, I really hated him, with me being a bit shy in the first year due to an unhurried act of sexual abuse on my fair skinned body he capitulated on this quietness and spat in my hair on the bus while a crowd of kids sniggered away behind me..I did however possess my Fathers unnatural rage and after a few weeks of sporadic needling I wiped him all over the empty football pitch one dinner time whilst doing that 'mlaaring' crying and shrieking that overly emotional but chunky kids do when they punch anything in sight..

Regardless of the fact he left me alone after that I kept pushing for levels of recompense that he was unable to give me, and due to his initial opening salvo of the use of spit as the weapon of choice, I reciprocated accordingly.

I began to spit, at him..all the time, rain or shine, Summer or Winter I was able, at will, to pull up a weighty phlegm ball and fire it nonchalantly into his face, hood, trouser seat ect ect..

It didnt get boring, and as my popularity grew so did 'covering McGheeny with a greeny' (as the act became known)..I truly realised the fruits of my labour had blossomed when at 13 I took my weekly fiver into town to get a McDonalds and a copy of Combat and Survival only to be greeted with the site of McGheeny being gozzed on by 3 ruffians who danced a dance round him whilst letting loose their Lambert and Butler tinged projectiles..

It ended with a whimper and not a bang, I force fed him an acid trip at a house party on the last night of our exams and punched him in the face an hour later in the kitchen then watched him run off down the street, shirtless and screaming for help, I paid him no more thought..

However ! A familiar face punctured my lucid thoughts tonight when I went into Halifax to pick up some paperwork, outside the Market there are a number of mentally deficient scruffbags repeating the words 'Courier, Evening Courier' as they proffer a thin rag of print to any takers, and there he was, McGheen, minus greeny, looking mongish and lost in the biting Yorkshire wind, I watched him for a bit, his flourescent jacket covered in stains and with a roll up hanging out the corner of his mouth then moved on swiftly and shamefully as he gave me a studied look, at my expensive shoes and tailored shirt, but I still suppressed a giggle as I wanted to throw a greeny at McGheeny again ..

Is it my fault life has dealt him this cruellest of fates ? Shall I offer him a job ?

Would it help me to feel better if I heard how many of you were a complete c*nt to someone at school ?

Hark. do I see the potential return of the old NAAFI?
 
#7
SiCiv said:
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy
McGheeny, is that you?

Nice one Reni, one of the better posts that's has appeared lately.
 
#8
SiCiv said:
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy
And I'd bully them too, in front of you, like Learco Chindamo before opening you up like a Philip Lawrence flavoured envelope, you interfering Dot Cotton alike..
 
#9
reni_77 said:
SiCiv said:
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy
And I'd bully them too, in front of you, like Learco Chindamo before opening you up like a Philip Lawrence flavoured envelope, you interfering Dot Cotton alike..
nice, hope you feel better
 

Auld-Yin

ADC
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Reviews Editor
#10
reni - you must have your cnut-finder on full strength. First post a bite and a half.

Now tell the truth, you were really his bum-boy when at school weren't you? :lol:
 
#12
BiscuitsAB said:
Hark. do I see the potential return of the old NAAFI?
Aren't you supposed to have karked it? Or is someone telling porkies? :p

And, I was nasty, and bullied the lower years. I got paid as well. Thank you prefect duties. :D
 
#14
Squiggers said:
BiscuitsAB said:
Hark. do I see the potential return of the old NAAFI?
Aren't you supposed to have karked it? Or is someone telling porkies? :p

And, I was nasty, and bullied the lower years. I got paid as well. Thank you prefect duties. :D

Check pulse! Check.

Check eyes! not yellow yet !

Check rest of attachments! check!


Sit rep. Not dead, liver still functioning arms and legs still there although not 100%

Sorry mate looks like wishfull thinking at this poi
 

B_AND_T

MIA
Book Reviewer
#15
SiCiv said:
reni_77 said:
SiCiv said:
How is that even funny? The guy is not wearing a tailored shirt and nice shoes because you bullied him for spitting in your hair once?
I teach kids who are more grown up buddy
And I'd bully them too, in front of you, like Learco Chindamo before opening you up like a Philip Lawrence flavoured envelope, you interfering Dot Cotton alike..
nice, hope you feel better
Did you used to be touched, in a special place, by your father.

I bet you passed on the same favours to your cadets!

Cock!
 
#16
Auld-Yin said:
reni - you must have your cnut-finder on full strength. First post a bite and a half.

Now tell the truth, you were really his bum-boy when at school weren't you? :lol:
Well he was from Scottish lineage and I walloped him and his brother many times, you are seriously under represented south of the border, apart from the big bloke that was f*cking Jeanette Crankie, wouldnt have fancied a bucky fueled tear up with him big yin ..
 

B_AND_T

MIA
Book Reviewer
#17
This thread is out of order. I was bullied as a child. I fought back.

I waited till they got married and went to their houses, eventually, and raped their wives.

A small victory I know but worth it. Apart from Roberts wife, she cried too much.
 
#18
I was bullied in junior school by a lad named Reggie C***er, he was a bastard, my life was a misery, he was at least 2ft taller than me.

The years pass by, and I'm home on leave. Walking down Church Street in Lozells, this short-arse meanders up the hill, couldn't believe me eyes, it was Reggie. What a snivelling little shit he had turned into, had even failed his medical to do his National Service.

I did feel some sympathy for him, but twatted him one any way, just for old times sake. There were 4 years worth of suffering, shame, and self disgust behind the punch, oh how I enjoyed it.
 
#19
Christ, this has reminded me of a kid I went to school with, Salem Djmarly, or how ever he spelt his name. He was a Turkish Cypriot and a mong. We went to the same primary school but were in different classes but got put in the same class at Secondary School. In the teacher infinite wisdom they would sit the fvckwit next to me. I was an all round nice guy and they thought I could help this mong with learning. After the first term I hated him, he would borrow my stationary and dribble his mong juice all over it. I was a kid not a teacher and resented having to mentor Salem and his constant snotty nose. When his balls dropped he sounded like Davros of Dr Who. He would lie about every thing, he had motorbike/his Dad has a machine gun/ he was a member of the IRA, he even claimed to be a special agent in Cypres ..... and I was forced to sit next to him!

Out side of the class room I ripped the piss out him at every opportunity, any contact sport or game we played Salem would be my primary target.

He was a stocky kid and gave back as good as he got but he made the mistake of hitting girls, I mean really hitting them, right hooks the lot. He even wrapped a metal chain with a padlock around a birds head. This left him an open target to ALL the school. What really pissed me off was he never got punished because he was a spaz. Talk about a two tier justice system.

I have know idea what happened to the snotty retard but I suspect that his Dad married him to relation so she could get a UK passport.
 
#20
This all reminds me of Martin Ryan. A complete retard of the highest calibre, that fortunately went to my school to liven up my otherwise boring school days.

Now Martin Ryan, apart from being slower than a Frenchman advancing to contact, also had the nick name of "Michael". Due to the media labelled "Rambo obsessed" nutter Michael Ryan, who decided to liven up the lives of Hungerford residents, with a spot of "Use Your Neighbour As A Bullet Shield", after reading the best-selling book, "My AK47 & Other Weapons".

During games lessons where we'd all be getting dirty playing rugby, with the Games Teacher really getting involved. Showing us how to tackle around the waist, how to "bind" in the scrum by holding the other boys shorts in the groin area. Hang on?.......

Anyway, Michael as we'll now call him, used to spend the lesson walking around the edge of the pitch picking daises, not getting dirty. Of course this meant it was my duty to get him as dirty as possible. This usually took the form of kicking the dirty rugby ball at his head, tackling him into the biggest, foulest puddle of mud, or throwing fistfuls of mud at him when the mood took me. This past time kept me amused during those drab, dreary games lessons. But eventually this became stale in it's predictability. So something else was needed to amuse me & heap more misery down on his puny, pitiful shoulders. This took the form, one day, of me throwing his open school bag (containing all his clothes) into the communal shower. My, how we laughed as he mlaaared his way into the shower trying to drag his bag out, all the while being jeered & laughed at by everyone else.

Ah, school days, happy days, halcyon days. :D

No idea what happened to him after finishing school. He probably went on to become a Labour MP.
 

Latest Threads