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Discussion in 'Cardiff City Forum' started by Colonel Cardiffi, 3 Nov 2018.
How lovely to see a French teacher indulging in a sort of ménage et Trois
Not my old French teacher. No sir. She always had red wine marks round her mouth. The wine was ok. It was her moustache that put the kaibosh on it.
That sounds familliar
Lovely back body drop
Oooo yes punishment was swift
At least we would have 1 teacher
Smoking fags with u by the bike sheds
Ha ha! This can only be Stanwell.
It was! Were you there too?
Indeed, I was (as was my brother and my Dad, though not at the same time obviously!) and all three of those teachers taught me while I was there - Mr Gayle when he had the aforementioned black eye. I'm gutted I didn't get to see the incident itself, would've been quite the occasion!
Who was your form teacher?
For a short-arse, Mr Summerfield was quite a unit, Mr Gayle had no chance! Can’t blame him though, Miss M was quite fit!
Now I want to see pics of this mysterious Miss M figure that has sparked such controversy.
Yeah but she was no Miss Jones (Art) though!
I honestly can't remember all the names of the various form teachers we had as it was a new one every year. I was there from 90 to 97 though, in all those shit portacabins on the tennis courts for quite a lot of it.
I was there from 88 to 93, I think I remember her, she arrived a year or so before I left. Very nice!
Do you remember a music teacher we called Flapper? I can’t remem his real name but he ended up having a nervous breakdown in class from all the abuse he received from his pupils. Some of the kids in that school were horrible bastards!
If kids don't get regular beatings from a young age they will go through life knowing they can get away with any shit. Next stop is prison. Man up and beat the fuck out of your kids or they go to jail folks.
I don't remember that one but yeah, kids there could be proper bastards. Subsitute teachers were mercilessly taunted at times. In a year seven class, one of them made us all work in absolute silence after being so rowdy and fiercely stalked up and down the aisles making sure we were all working. As she walked passed, all those with fountain pens (about a dozen or so) would flick ink up the back of skirt. By the end of the hour the back of her clothes looked like some kind of weird inky leopard and she hadn't noticed at all. She must've thought she'd done a really good job until she got home and got changed.