I was expelled from 2 schools by the time I hit the 5th year, it isnt something to be particularly proud of but I had no business being in a private school (an act perpetuated by my parents to reflect their sudden and unexpected catapulting into the middle class) and then putting me in another school that was exclusively for boys (where you had to wear a posh blazer) was again, a huge mistake, a fact that I cemented home by refusing to behave and by causing about as much disruption as possible before being fucked off out the door, I was a pretty quiet kid but very crafty with the ability to cause incidence in an empty room. My last school though was ace, the teachers were ok, lessons could be fun and you could get away with fucking murder The Greenhouse The greenhouse, that had been attached to an empty wing of the schools main building had been out of use for years, was a shit heap of broken glass and rotten wooden frames, it had three huge shelfs running along its span and had some rudimentary gardening tools and a few terracotta pots in various states of disrepair scattered around. Sensing an opportunity and a place to hang out we plotted to take control of the greenhouse and utilise its remoteness in relation to the rest of the school. Mr H*****, the head of the 4th year and a Science Teacher to boot eyed me suspiciously, his eyes narrowing as I excitedly delivered my plans to make full use of the greenhouse and to introduce a wave of colour and photosynthesised niceness to the school, I waxed skillfully that the products of this endeavour would eventually adorn the corridors and walkways of a pretty grim facility and pleaded for some money and some support in getting this project up and running. To be fair he hated me, I had once given a first year a dead arm of such crippling force he had to go home, unbeknownst to me Mr H***** had been a victim of severe bullying due to his runt like physique and his lazy eye and he duly went spastic at me suspending me for 2 days after giving me half an hour of the hair dryer treatment, I had also been long suspected of tipping a load of iodine into the cunts tropical fish tank killing the fucking lot, the jury was however out as suspicion also fell on a lad who was mooching about the science labs that day on detention and I was in no hurry to correct people (I was also the phantom gas tap saboteur, nipping nimbly into empty labs and flicking the gas taps on and freaking the fucking daylights out of the lab assistants..) Anyway, funding was agreed with the proviso that we undertook an agreement to turn some old flower beds into a picture of blooming loveliness for which we were given additional pennies. After a dinner time trip to B and Q (that lasted until 3) we trooped back with a tenners worth of pot plants, a hand trowel, some plastic plant pots, a length of hose and a load of seeds in packets, the remainder of the dosh went on a dinner each at ASDA. Knowing we had to put some effort into the scam to reap its full benefits we, over the course of a couple of days tipped the soil on the bedding and chucked a load of seeds on it then retreated to the greenhouse which now had a few pot plants with flowers in for show and had been swept out and made to look half decent. Cue the fun. Now secure in our own private fiefdom we descended into silliness, our numbers swelled and the greenhouse at times was fit to bust. We also developed a 'booking' rota, some of us were already rooting round in girls underwear and would book the greenhouse for some mid afternoon fun, the beauty of it was that you had to make a right racket to get to the greenhouse, you had at least a minute to put out your fag/joint out, ditch your beer/pull your trousers back up (I habitually used it to knock one out as I had been wanking in the school toilets once when 3 heads appeared over the door and walls all pissing theirselves laughing, I nearly didnt live it down..), the trick was to stick your hand in a load of dirt when you heard someone coming then start fucking about with a pot plant, if it was a teacher you were suitably covered, this continued until the last day of term before a glorious 6 weeks of summer off. It was 'video' day, typical for the last day of term in that you just watched shite PG rated videos like 'BMX Bandits' or the fucking 'Goonies' whilst the teachers hung around in badly fitting courdroy pants and Aran knitwear. Taking advantage of the laxidasical feel of the day 4 of us bedded down in the greenhouse with a load of bottles of 20/20, a lethal sickly sweet concoction that got you pissed as a cunt and a handful of oily Morrocan pot to compliment. To complete our little party we fired up a portable stereo with some techno music and within the hour we were rubbered in a fug of smoke. Unknown to us our absence was noticed, and I mean our 'collective' absence was noticed so the team of staff despatched to recover us knew exactly where to go. By this point I had my tie round my head and had pulled my trousers up above my knees and distinctly remember nodding to the rythmic beat of 2Unlimited when the door burst open and half the fucking staff room burst in. By the luck of the God's the pot was long gone and we'd had the good sense to bin the roaches/rizlas and any other paraphenalia but had neglected to hide the now empty bottles. It was a show trial. We were all convened in an empty office and our respective parents were called. The bottles were then shown to them and a flurry of administrative action was carried out, the other 3 were to be dealt with on their return to school in September but I like to think of myself as the Andy Dufresne of the Shawshank Redemption and I was to be kept at home after the holidays ending and would be sent my coursework and reading material for the coming exams in the 5th year, this would continue until January when I was finally allowed back.. (And fuck all grew in the flower beds) Zippo, x 1, for use of, (10p a go) I was never a proper smoker; I would pull weakly on a Lambert and Butler in a desperate effort to look cool then dramatically blew it all out whilst fighting the urge not to vomit, I once had a go on a roll up on the field with a school slag and promptly went green, spewed all over my Nike Air Maxs then darted home full of shame. Some of my school peers however were seasoned smokers and there were numerous far corners of the schools grounds where these smoke engulfed gangs of kids would huddle together sharing a tab or two. What surprised me though was the apparent difficulty in those attempting to get served fags in the shops near to school. First evident hurdle would have been the disguising of school tie/uniform, the second being the ditching of your school bag and nine times out of ten the attempts resulted in epic failure. The lucky chap with the prized pack of ten Royals would then be elevated briefly in social status whilst he handed round the rapidly expiring cigarettes. So I hatched an epic plan to significantly up my delinquent finances. I was, at the time hanging round with a lad called Danny, a big gangly fucker who was 17 and who had binned school years before and worked part time in a newsagents, he was a child of abuse and the weird cunt used to lay down in the park all night staring up at the stars looking for UFOs, he also fell off some scaffolding once and I suspect he hit every pole on the way down judging by him looking like Pug from the Beano. A quick chat secured me a pack of 20 every day at full price with the addition of a pound extra per pack that went straight into Daniels pocket (he also let me have the Viz for free each month,....which was nice..) I shot into school that first day and quickly found those willing to part with a shiny pound coin for 1 x cigarette, a reoccurring theme started though with a look of confusion on the buyers face when they asked, have you got a light?, I hadnt but returned the next day with a Zippo lighter and charged 10 pence for each light usually accompanied by much grumbling and ticking. All in all I was taking in upwards and above of a ton a week, most of which went into a fuck off biscuit tin under my pit that Id rescued from the kitchen cupboard. All went well, a steady income was maintained, I even branched out and started knocking up huge bags full of badly made roll ups with a load of Old Holborn and firing them out at 50 pence a pop, to be fair, everyone was a winner. Danny however got greedy, realising I was on to a good thing he upped his charge to £2.00 additional to the cost of every pack and after resisting the urge to pull his big mishapen fucking ears off I went one better. If Daniel gave me a 200 pack Id furnish him with £20.00 every time, now this involved him effectively stealing but judging by the store full of cigs in the back he quickly agreed. On it progressed and naturally I expanded my stock. Realising Danny was mad for cash I had him nicking all sorts of shit, bumper packs of Galaxy bars, porn mags, cans of coke, stationary ect and I would stop by at 7am when he was stocking the daily papers and load up my school bag with pre-ordered goods before palming him off a couple of notes and heading off. One Monday morning I was skipping down to the shop, giddy with anticipation at another days trading and walked straight into a couple of Bobbys heading into the shop, sensing danger I hung around outside and watched as the shop owner appeared, I slinked further back into the shadows as Danny then appeared looking crestfallen and was bundled into the police car. I was, by now, shitting it and cringing with fear and went straight home from school, I was that scared I told my older sister who was sympathetic to my tears but who then promptly told my Mum who then told my Dad. Sitting across from him in the kitchen he asked me what had happened and to this day I swear he was half smiling when he said 'deny all knowledge lad', I suspect he didnt have room to talk as he built a firm based on pikey principles and tender process tomfoolery. I did get a police visit but simply stated that I had been buying cigarettes off him for myself, they left, not before pausing to let my parents know that they would be in touch and I was moonwalking and high fiving my way to my bedroom in an abject sort of happiness. [/I]Porn and an unlikely friendship Paul was to be fair, a fucking epic geek. He had once shat himself in junior school during a recorder lesson and those that were with him when he started seniors would never let him forget it, his sister had also once apparently tried to wank off a horse whilst helping at a stables (like I said, apparently) and she, like Paul was taunted daily for her perceived and perverted act. Now I lived near to these 2 weirdoes and more often than not was on the same bus to school in the morning. Paul used to talk incessantly about his Matchbox car collection and she would be staring out the window picking her nose. One particular morning I was preparing to drown him out as I pulled out my walkman with its Chaka Demus and Pliers tape and bright orange headphones when he asked me if I wanted to see something. Expecting him to show me a boil on his back or some other equally bogging thing he dipped into his bag and produced a VHS tape adorned with nothing more than the remnants of a long ago scratched off label. Suitably interested I enquired as to the content and he simply said shagging, proper shagging, with grownups and stuff, I got it from my Dads cupboard, I actually remember the physical stirring in my crotch and I swiftly borrowed it. It sat in my bag for the next 6 hours and I periodically looked into my rucksack, lightly touching the tape and dreaming of its content whilst my acne strewn face flushed with excitement. Once home I shot upstairs, bypassing any contact with the entire family and slammed my bedroom door behind me. I wont go into detail but after an hour of watching a porn spoof of Baywatch I was grey in pallor, aching of cock and in desperate need of food and sugar. I returned the tape the next day and asked if his Dad had any more? Loads said he, and so began our beautiful friendship. I snared him in by asking if he wanted to come round mine and play on my Nintendo, once roped in he was habitually bringing me additional tapes full of hard porn and I lost more hours of my life pulling the head off it at every opportunity. Sensing a further money making scheme I started to hire out Pauls Dad's bongo movies for a pound a time, after greasing Paul's palm with a few pence on each hire we had a juicy little number going on but as usual some cunt has to spoil it. We/I had farmed out a couple of skin flicks to a lad called Ryan, the fat shit didnt bring back the tapes and told me his machine had chewed them up, sensing I was being mugged off I belted him right in the mouth then ran off cackling to myself like an utterly shite Tony Montana. Returning to my form tutor for registration I was suddenly pulled to one side by the Deputy Head and the omnipresent Mr H**** of greenhouse fame who marched me to the Head of Years office. I saw Ryan going the other way mopping his split lip with a teacher who slung me the daggers. 'Empty your bag' was the simple instruction, I knew I had no chance and tipped out 3 VHS tapes full of smut, 60 fags, a zippo lighter and a load of porn mags, cue 2 week suspension and sent to the bottom set for the core subjects for 3 months which seemed a tad unfair as I was top set in most areas, I went from reading Shakespeare with the brainy bunch to sitting in stupefying silence watching a full class of bottom set dribblers reading aloud from an educational comic. The fucking horror. The meeting held with my parents in attendance wasnt the most pleasent of experiences, my Mum visibly shook when the porn was discussed and the fire in my Dads eyes throughout was 'orrid! The ride home was silent and I was just told to go upstairs and stay there, I was then informed I was to have counselling to address my behavioural problems and I had a home visit with a nervy fucker with bad dandruff and shifty eyes, he only came once and declared me 'ok'.. Lets be honest, school was fucking ace, amongst the scraps, awkward fumbles, detentions, truancy and general tomfoolery I struggle to find things I didnt like. More memorable moments? Mr M****, a short bald chap who taught I.T. and who was inexplicably fancied by most of the girls, his tenure was short lived after he was found half naked with a fit as fuck 6th former in his store, the lucky, lucky bastard, she had a mass of thick black curly hair and had shown my mate Col her big bushy fanny when they were both on the biff from P.E. I saw Mr M at the local swimming baths a year after I'd joined up and he was just hanging round the cafe looking down at all the people swimming, I couldnt help it and shouted 'dirty bastard' before disappearing. Or James C, who got on the bus one morning and slid a bottle of Gordons Gin out of his bag, I had a sip, promptly gagged, then encouraged him to drink as much as he could, he staggered into the first lesson, fired up his Bunsen burner then got his head to close to the flame, up went his liberally lacquered hair and he burnt the full side of his face, he turned to look at me straight away and just fish mouthed some silent words at me before falling to the floor, in came the ambulance and out went James Stealing an entire roll of free school dinner tickets from the Bursars Office, there were loads of them in an open cabinet and I ate well for a couple of months until the books didnt tally up and the hunt was on for the then mythical 'purple roll of free dinner tickets'. Or the 3 desperados who one night burnt down the new computer wing by setting light to the curtains after breaking the windows, cue full police presence the next day and a special assembly held that resembled a Nazi Rally with much shouting, threatening and warnings to those either involved or in the know that retribution awaited as it surely did for the 2 lads arrested leaving the scene. (Im glad I fucked off when the first curtain went up! ) Were you a truly awful little cunt? Any fond memories of school?