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By Bernie Bostik


Mr Hughes - My English teacher, an all round good egg. He let me get away with murder but he also knew when to crack the whip when needed. He kept me back one time and told me the school was getting a visit from some Governors or Local Council people (I can't remember which), he wanted me to read out a short speech for them. So I spent a few dinner breaks being taught by him, the art of giving a speech. To the life of me i can't remember what the speech was about but I recall drumming my hands on the desk at one point explaining something about noise. I wish I knew what it was all about and why Mr Hughes picked me? The last time i saw him was when I went back one time after I'd officially left (during the last year I was an infrequent visitor to school) to collect my Media Studies project from him , I needed it to take with me on my many interviews trying to scout for an apprenticeship. It was a photographic essay on graffiti, god knows how this would help me in gaining employment as
an apprentice spark at Fords, but in them days you had to have every base covered. It was near the end of the day and he was over in the Sixth Form block, he was made up to see me and he took me to the Woodies pub at the back of the school for a swift half of bitter. The sermon he served up over the glass of Tetley's i still remember to this day...."Don't take shit of nobody" and "If you have a dream chase it"....

Mrs Marshall - My French teacher who was the spit of Glyns Barber. I took great pleasure in playing up in her class because this would result in two things,  I got told to sit at the front desk on order of an irate Glynis, which meant I got a better perv at her leather boot clad calves and her silky satin stocking clad thighs. She would always perch herself on the front of the desk crossing and uncrossing her legs. I lost it one time during a French oral exam, you were called into the class one by one to answer questions from her. When she was asking me "oh e le color al e port" (something like that anyway) I was taken in by her red ruby lips as she over exaggerated the syllables when trying to give me a clue as to what the hell she was saying. I just sat there transfixed with cheeks like Bradley
Branning and an expression like Joey Deacon.

Mr Osbourne - My Form teacher and Physics teacher. I liked Ozzie even though I gave him hell. I was good as gold during registration with him but put me with the rest of the loonies in bottom set physics and this is when the freaks come out. He was a new teacher and at the beginning it was all jovial and quite tame - just testing the water - but  near the end it nearly broke the man. Some of the funny ones I instigated; one time i told everyone while we were lining up to enter the class room, on the shout of 'Greame Souness' we should all throw our text books in the air then jump on the floor and do the dying fly until he went for help. Well about 10 minutes in the shout went up and we hit the floor. At first he was flummoxed and then he turned angry and the moment he went for help we all jumped back up and carried on as normal and when he returned with 'Tufty' the deputy head, we were all sat down doing our work peacefully.
Sometimes it just turned to total anarchy but the day he changed was the day Mez yokered right in his kipper and he flipped. He went for Mez and pinned him to the floor then wiped all the spit of his face and rubbed it all over Mez's face. I heard off people that he become very strict after that, i wouldn't  know because I stopped going when the lesson ceased being a laugh.


Mr Taylor - Maths teacher, It was all so regimental with this cunt. You got made to sit boy girl, you could only have your book and pen on the desk and nothing else, no one could speak (you had to put your hand up to ask a question). I always felt claustrophobic in his lessons. You would feel his hot breath on the back of your head as he hovered over you waiting for you to slip up on a long division. I hated him the most because the shit stain never had the common decency to call me by my proper name, it was always "you, you at the back, what's the value of a" one time the cheeky cock sucker had the audacity to say to me "you, you with the ears like taxi doors what is the circumference of this  circle". I got thrown out and put in to a lower set for my reply of "Fuck you fungus face" which was his nickname down in smokers corner.

Mr Twig - Could of been Biology or Chemistry can't remember. All I do remember about this little weedy Zapata mustache wearing Hitler is that he used to grab you by the sidey's and tug for all he was worth.

Mrs Barnes - Music teacher. I didn't dislike Mrs Barnes but I neither liked her. I just made her cry a lot by not really doing much. Looking back now,  she was getting on a bit back then so she was probably going through them woman type changes that the female of the species go through when they reach a certain age.



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