I want to nominate ‘spakkers’. Not the full blown variety, like cunts in wheel chairs or mongers. I’m referring to the ‘tards’ I went to school with. All the cunts in stream 5 at the local secondary modern.
Johnny Sausage with the thick pebble glasses. The cunt with the accessory nipple who was always taking his shirt off to show to the girl with the gammy eye. The kid who would always shout out the same word in class and think it was funny and then wank off and wipe is jiz on Johny Sausage’s blazer. The poor kid who would always put his hand up for a second helping of free school dinners.
Where are these cunts now?
Nominated by: Flaxen Saxon
School days? Best days of one’s life supported by the jolly old mater and pater. No matter how shite life’s mortal coil may have seemed then just think about where you are now. Blogging on isacunt. Point made old sport?
Used to sit at the back next to a degenerate little catholic wanker name of McMillan. Spent most of his time measuring his scummy little cock. Recall I was running a book on the gee gees even then. Bet him that his unruly member would not grow by an inch in a year. Thus he was at it pulling and tugging, rubbing in vaseline and marmite and whatever else was suggested. Don’t believe a cunt ever had so much pleasure losing a bet.
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I was plagued by a noxious little fucker of a prefect called Chip Scagerlind – you out there, Chip, you fucking cunt?
He latched himself to a big bastard from the first 15 rugger team ‘cos it made him feel important, the fucking bum sucker. Our school had a system called ‘PDs’ – Physical Detentions – which was vastly unfair to unfit fat bastards like me. One day, Chip tried to give me one on some spurious grounds so I told him where to shove and turned my back and walked away. He responded by putting the toe of his boot up the base of my spine.
I didn’t think, I just reacted. I spun round connected my fist with his chin and then walked away again. He didn’t get up for a while.
Next day – Headmaster’s study. Dressed down and expected a flogging. 6 of the best, don’tcha know? Never did anyone any harm. Builds character.
To my surprise, he let me off. I asked why and he said “because you neglected to mention that he hit you first and we can’t have prefects doing that.” Seems there was some justice after all.
Wonder where the cunt is now? Somewhere shitty I hope…
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Aha, a spot of corporal dear heart. The sport of Empire. There were a brace of serial floggers at the old alma mater. The assistant head was a sinister sado cunt whose signature kink was disciplining boys in the showers with an old gym shoe that he carried around in his gown.
Another was the mathematics master, a permanently whiskeyed up red faced Dub (ie from Dublin cunts) who on good days would bring a portable gramophone into the form room and play records of irish rebel songs very loudly and sing along while getting maudlin drunk. Once the tears ran dry he would get nasty drunk and produce a thin length of knotted whipcord from his pocket. His victim was invariably a tall fat wobbly arsed boy name of Lumsden. He would make Lumsden drop his pants and lean over his desk then turn up the volume of the gramophone. Barny O’Brien, for that was the psycho’s name, had a particular skill in bending the rope around the boy’s flacid suet coloured buttocks to produce a quite admirable pattern of red welts. Well it always impressed us.
Bizarrely O’Brian also had his son at the school, a freckle faced ginger haired prefect. The dinner ladies told us that O’Brien was well known for constantly changing schools and that he would not be with us long. So it proved and after three months the fenian cunt and his inbreed indeed moved on. But not before we had kicked the shit out of the son.
School days. Best days of ones life what!
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Just remembered another tosser, too. Malcolm Lewin.
When I were at prep school, I was academically brilliant. Didn’t last unfortunately! In end of term exams, Malcolm and I always shared top honours. We ended up going to the same public school together, but he did better in the entrance exams and got into stream 1. I only made 3. I left school at 16 and got a proper job. Malcolm went on to uni. Oxbridge I think but don’t quote me.
Didn’t see him again for about 25 years then one day I was doing a contract for a firm helping out with their year end. Malcolm turned up. He was the Audit Manager. What a waste of an education!
Made me feel good though…especially when I said hello and he claimed not to remember me. You did really tho’ didn’t you Malc?…
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Don’t forget the cunts with cauliflower ears, spakky limbs (piglet fingers on the end of a short arm) and gimlet eyes. None this SEN stuff in those days. Were all lumped in together and made the the best, or worst of it… And we had winners and losers on sports day. Kids got a taste of what life’s like in the Big Bad World and were all the better for it. Built a bit of a spine dontchaknow!
Happy days they were, the early ones anyway. Sunshine, Chipmunk crisps, Meccano, Hornby, Matchbox, Corgi etc.
Yep…Happy days…And they’ve gone, the cunts.
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