Survivor Man strikes again. I really have to tell you this; it was probably the worst joke ever. Maybe some of you out there will like it, but it made nobody laugh in our class and there was even a rumour that somebody started crying (that’s how terrible it was) though, we’re unsure whether there was a causal relationship between the crying and the joke.
This morning as we were waiting for our teacher to show up for English class, I was minding my own business while everybody was all over the place. Suddenly the teacher walks in and… Oh, wait. Well, you see, our teacher is a very slim guy, in his late thirties, beard, kind of hip but not really and no matter what he eats, he just does not seem to gain any weight (the girls all hate him for that). He walks into the classroom and he has got this enormous potbelly. Other than that he seemed perfectly his same old slim self; just a very fat belly. One hand was rubbing it, and the other one was supporting his back. From the looks of it he was in pain (labour pain?).
Somebody pulled up his chair for him and helped him sitting down. The entire class fell silent. You could literally hear a pin drop (not that anybody tried). He looked at us and everybody was just staring at his big fat belly. It was beginning to get awkward. As he was staring back, you could see he was looking for words. Then he opened his mouth to say,
‘So guess what happened to me last night?’
Everybody thought he got drunk, but before anybody could say anything he continued,
’ I was sleeping and dreaming about being a boy scout aged 12 and we were all sitting around this lovely campfire singing campfire songs and roasting marshmallows. All of a sudden one of the boy scouts looked up and pulled a face as if he suddenly remembered he had forgotten to turn off the gas. He ran to the big tent and after a minute or two he came out with this huge marshmallow. It was gigantic, enormous, immense, and … pink.
He sits down with this marshmallow and starts heating it. It was totally awesome. The marshmallow got hot and gooey and started turning black a little bit, and when it was done he said that we could all help eating it. So, we did. We started eating the monster.
I couldn’t get enough of the thing. It was delicious and I bet Willy Wonka would have wanted a sample of it so he could make these suckers down at his factory. We ate and ate and some of the kids started to give up and throw up, but not me. I ate as if my life depended on it. At one point I was the only one left eating the darn thing and I was planning on eating all of it. It took me over an hour, but I did it. When I had finished my stomach was really hurting and my belly started growing and growing and growing and it got bigger and bigger and bigger.’
He stopped talking and the entire class was still staring at him in disbelief. Evelyn – the most ignorant girl in class – dared to ask him THE question nobody wanted to ask,’ What happened then?’
‘I woke up like this and my pillow was gone.’
Facepalm! See, this is what I have to deal with at school. This is what those teacherpeople get paid for and we have to undergo these methods of torture each and every single day. I’m not sure but I’ve got a hunch that our teachers’ ancestors worked in torture chambers or invented all those torture devices. As physical abuse is no longer tolerated at schools, they have perfected their skills in psychological warfare. Maybe I should take notes, just in case.
Last thing I am going to say today is that I am planning on going to Bank of England and check out the site myself. I am not counting on meeting Sarah there, but I would like to see the site for myself. Like I said, I’ve been living at (and under) ‘the rock’ now for too long, it’s time for Arthur Didymus to get out there and start living for a change! See me tomorrow.