The Dullest Blog: Comedy ramblings to inspire the dullest moments of your week
Back to School
No sooner had I read this month's theme, it started. All my repressed memories of my school days started popping like giant acne in my brain.
Being skinnier than a super model with pig flu, my hair was cut by our neighbours “hairdresser” friend, my clothes were all hand-me-downs, combined with the NHS glasses I wore because my parents were too cheap to buy me cool specs, I looked like a puss faced, pubeless, mojo-free Austin Powers. I was the anti-Fonze.
I played drums in the school band, I did well in exams and was appalling at all sports. If there were a polar opposite point of being cool, I would have been standing right beside it with a goofy grin on my face.
School just wasn’t fun, your voice cracking to make you sound like burst dog toy; not having any money to pay for your desired independence; every adult telling you what was right for you and that you could do much better if you just “tried harder”, and the whole time your only hope was that no-one had noticed your 78th rogue erection of the day and that you wouldn’t be the last virgin in your class.
Anyone that says “my school days were the best of my life” should be dragged from their homes, by their nasal hair, and then drowned in lukewarm, lumpy, canteen custard for being a parasite to society. If, after leaving the confines and rules of the classroom, when given the opportunity to explore the world and all it has to offer, with unrestricted freedom to discover and realise your potential; if after this liberty is yours for the taking, you create no better memories than puking in your mates family sink after too much cheap cider, or groping a girl at the high school Christmas dance, then you, Sir/Madam, have failed and need to apologise to everyone for accomplishing less in your life than a three legged dog with no balls.
Or maybe I have childhood issues and need to speak to someone about them.