A Day in Hell Part 3

The climax of the day was heralded by Oxbridge One and a megaphone. She explained to everyone present, loudly and clearly with her megaphone, that the last event of the day was being set up. She explained, loudly and clearly with her megaphone, that everybody was to stay where they were until they were told to enter the hanger. She explained, loudly and clearly with her megaphone, that if anyone entered the hanger before they were told they would be prevented from taking part in the last event. Finally, she explained, loudly and clearly with her megaphone, that this event was really, really exciting and the winner would get the grand prize.

Everybody was convinced and stood, waiting, with baited breath. Everybody? No, not quite.
Out of the crowd burst Lord Greystoke, running into the hanger as fast as he could, determined to be first, knowing that the previous instructions were meant only for others.
Miraculously Oxbridge One was barring his way. He stopped, confused.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked him.
‘I’m going in there in I.’ replied Lord Greystoke, indicating the beckoning darkness of the hanger with a waving paw.
‘Oh no you’re not.’ said Oxbridge One, ‘You’re staying out here and not taking part because you can’t follow instructions’.

Automatically Lord Greystoke’s defence mechanisms came on line.

Standard Response One initiated….
‘What about them then?’ he whined, swaying his arm through the air behind him.
‘Who?’
‘Them, all of them what was running too.’ still indicating the space behind him.
‘There’s only you’ Oxbridge One pointed out.
More confusion as this sunk in, Lord Greystoke’s face ran the gamut from perplexed to more perplexed; surely he had been at the head of a howling mob of excited boys? Surely everyone was as anxious as he to get started and only his inherent speed and agility had kept him ahead of the pack?
He looked behind him. Instead of the howling mob there was only an empty expanse of runway. Several yards away stood everybody else, waiting where they’d been told. From the midst of this group I had an urge to wave to him.

Standard Response Two initiated……
‘Well I never heard you say not to go in.’
Oxbridge One looked at him, then at her megaphone, then back at him.
‘Go and stand over there.’ She said, indicating a lonely spot by the hangar door.

Everyone else was allowed in and they streamed past a dejected Lord Greystoke laughing and excited. Nobody stopped to listen to his lament about the unfairness of life.
The Teacher in Charge and I stood near him and exchanged smiles.
‘An important life lesson has been learnt today’ remarked the Teacher in Charge and I nodded agreement, we were both doing our best not to laugh.

Since the final event involved rummaging through a huge haystack trying to find the keys to the limo a couple of asthmatic students were not allowed to participate and they came and waited with us. The Teacher in Charge promised that they would be included in the ‘friends of the winner’ who share the prize if one of our students got the keys.
‘What about me?’ asked Lord Greystoke.
‘No.’

A short time later, Oxbridge Two handed out Frisbees to the non-participants as a consolation prize. Lord Greystoke got given one too by mistake. While he was still confused by this, the Teacher in Charge took it off him without a word and put it in his own rucksack explaining to me; ‘I love Frisbees.’
Lord Greystoke may have been about to react to this but he was cut short by the final event starting.

‘Three…two…one….GO!!!’ Screamed the announcer and everyone dived into the straw.
Within seconds a lucky winner was holding the keys aloft.
‘A winner in record time.’ Said the announcer, ‘What’s your name son?’
My blood ran cold as I saw it was the main rumour monger from our morning in the hall. Not him, anyone but him, is there no justice in life? Just for a moment my faith in the universal laws of karma were shaken.

The limo arrived, there was a quick interview with the host of the show and then Rumour Monger was swept away by the magical car as everybody applauded and the cameras rolled. He looked so happy.

Then the car stopped and the Director ran over to it. There was a conversation with Rumour Monger and then everybody came back.
‘We’re going again, he hasn’t won.’ said the Director and everybody got ready for another take. The excitement level of the participants rose to a fever pitch.

Rumour Monger sat on the sidelines looking as dejected as dejected can be. On the opposite side of the hanger a small child from another school was doing the same. I went over and spoke to the teacher consoling the other boy.
‘What was all that about?’ I asked.
‘Squealer here found the keys and that boy,’ she pointed accusingly at Rumour Monger, ‘took them off him.’ Squealer snivelled agreement. ‘Of course Squealer reported this and they had it all on film so there was no argument, Squealer knows what’s right. Apparently the other boy may have got a hand to them too so it’s not been awarded to Squealer automatically.’ Squealer howled his despair at this. ‘The Director offered to let Squealer try again, but as you can see, he’s too upset.’
‘Oh that is a shame’ I sympathised and backed away quickly before I started dancing or something.
I reported my findings to the Teacher in Charge and he observed that yet another important life lesson had been learnt today. We were both very happy. I waited for Rumour Monger to start crying but he managed not to. Oh well, you can’t have everything.

Some other kid finally won and we could all go home. As the winner was driven away I managed to remark to Rumour Monger ‘That was so nearly you.’ I tried to sound sympathetic but he wasn’t convinced. He gave me an evil glare so I smiled at him.

We gathered for a final roll call in the marquee. Oxbridge One found Rumour Monger and handed him a ‘No Girls Allowed’ t-shirt so he wouldn’t feel too bad about having the grand prize taken away from him. The look of disgust on his face as he held the shirt really was the icing on my karma cake.

As we boarded the coach Lord Greystoke found me and mentioned that he had lost his Frisbee. Did I know what had happened to it? I pleaded ignorance and settled down for a long, hot ride home.

School trips, you gotta love ‘em……….

A Day in Hell Part 2

Finally we arrive at the disused RAF base that is the location for the day’s momentous events. Anticipation on the bus is reaching pants-wetting proportions as we slowly cruise past the assembled go-karts, the paint splattered Paintball arena and what looks like a couple of rally cars, just waiting to be hurled round some muddy corners.

We pull up between another coach that’s just arrived, a school from Fleet were forgotten in the coach booking fiasco as well, and the limo. The limo is today’s grand prize; the lucky winner and three friends get driven home in it, there’s a PS2 in the back (with a pitifully small screen) to keep everyone amused. We had been promised an X-Box but nobody was surprised at finding the lesser option was actually the one available. I wonder if anyone noticed that the PS2 can only handle two players at once, unlike the X-Box’s four?

Off we get, marshalled into a small marquee by a young lady with an Oxbridge accent. She is indistinguishable from the other young ladies with Oxbridge accents that dot the place, must be a TV thing.
One little genius, brighter than all the rest, pipes up: ‘She’s a fucking girl! It says No Girls Allowed, they’re having a laugh.’ Grumbling assent rumbles through our seething mass of pond scum, threatening to erupt into full scale rebellion. This is instantly crushed by the Teacher in charge, who, tired and hot as the rest of us, reverts to type and gives a good indication of how his Voor Trekking ancestors were able to subdue the troublesome Zulu.

The marquee is remarkable only for the fact that there aren’t enough chairs and it is very hot. Obviously both these shortcomings would have escaped my notice if I wasn’t being constantly reminded of them by the assembled horde of muppets. I try to look grateful each time I am told about them and pray that little tongues will shrivel and fall out in the heat. No such luck.

‘You missed a couple of things’ Oxbridge One informs us, ‘but don’t worry, there’s loads more to do after lunch.’
Lying bitch.

I and the rest of the staff eat our lunch, the kids don’t because they’ve all consumed theirs on the journey down. Once again I don’t share.
Bottles of water are provided and everyone is told to hang onto them because they won’t be replaced but can be refilled later. I take five.

Oxbridge One and Two provide footballs so everyone can get out of the stifling heat of the marquee and into the stifling heat of the hottest day there’s ever been. Outside has the benefit of a scorching, unrelenting sun. I watch as several of my little charges begin to smoke like vampires in the sunlight and continue to eat my lunch. Because I am bored I start to count how many water bottles are being discarded as they become empty. I lose count around 20 and begin to look forward to later when refilling time arrives.

Spongebob finds me and whines for food. I am feeling kindly towards him because he is better behaved than the rest so I offer him an apple. He looks hurt and remarks that he doesn’t eat green apples. He seems to think we’ve discussed this previously but of course we haven’t.
I present him with a Mini Baby Bell by way of compensation and he skips off proclaiming ‘Oh, I’ve always wanted to try one of these.’

Football ends and we return to the marquee. I make sure I get a chair and Spongebob sits next to me. I ask him if he liked the Mini Baby Bell.
‘It tasted like wax’ he replies.
There are times when it’s best to say nothing so I say nothing.

Oxbridge One organises teams for ‘Frisbee Mayhem’. This takes forever and then ‘Frisbee Mayhem’ is cancelled. A lot of bored kids tell me how bored they are lots of times so I escape and find the portaloo.

The portaloo is mock Georgian which is nice. However, the cubicle is very cramped and the bowl is nearly full which isn’t nice. I flush before I sit down and am horrified to see the level in the bowl just rises. Oh well, nothing else for it, I get the business done quickly.
As I stand up I reflexively flush again. Realisation dawns a millisecond too late and I frantically race to dress before the unpleasant flood begins to seep over the seat top and onto the floor.
Thankfully I just make it.

Back at Hell’s antechamber, or the marquee if you prefer, everyone is being herded together so Oxbridge Two can lead us to the excitement at last. Dutifully we troop off.
Seconds later we arrive at a piece of runway where some paddling pools and a collection of footballs await us. The two teams take their places and everyone else stands in a group in the designated audience area.

The game involves kicking footballs at the pools, if a football goes in then the pool explodes with a satisfying ‘BOOM’ and a 150 foot high plume of water.
It’s mildly entertaining, but there are only four pools, so only four ‘BOOM’s.
It’s all over very quickly.

Next is the final event, the scramble through the hay for the limo keys.

What about the go-karts, the paintball, the rally cars?
Oh, they were all done this morning before we arrived. We get four exploding paddling pools and a haystack with a key in it. Whoop-de-fucking-do.

My despondency is lifted a little by the arrival of the fresh drinks and I fill my bottles. I am further cheered by the whines and moans of the discarded bottles brigade who’s complaints fall on deaf Oxbridge ears ‘You were told to keep hold of your bottles’ she reminds them and it’s all the more insulting for her perfect enunciation. I actually snigger, and I’m not alone, the Teacher in charge finds it funny too. He’s after payback for his troubles and it’s starting to arrive.

Little did either of us know, just how good it was going to get……..

A Day in Hell Part 1

This was it, the once-in-a-lifetime trip that everyone had been building up to for months. Today we were off to take part in a TV program where the boys from Year 7 and 8 that were chosen to go would get to do all kinds of interesting things with cars and explosions and stuff.

Only the good ones were allowed to go and even the most disgusting sub-humans that infest the darker regions of the lower school had managed, for the most part, to behave a little more like human beings and a little less like the faecal polyps they really are. Some tried in vain though and didn’t make the cut. Hehehe, retribution time and the first in a series of life lessons that would be visited on the assembled youth during the course of the day.

Everyone gathered at 7:30, eager to board the coaches which were due at 8:00 and be whisked away to paradise.

By 8:30, when it was clear that no coaches were coming anytime soon, the inside of the stiflingly hot School hall wasn’t as exciting as it had at first seemed. The hottest day in recorded history and I was in a hall with eighty twelve year old boys who insisted on telling me, in their best whiney voices, that ‘it’s too hot’.

Channel Five hadn’t booked the coaches, but don’t worry, they’d sort it out.

In the meantime I’d had to keep a huge bunch of whining children amused without killing them. Some watched the malfunctioning dvd that wouldn’t transmit its soundtrack to the speakers and filled the oppressive silence with cries of ‘There’s no sound!’ ‘It’s too hot!’ ‘I can’t hear it!’ All of this was very encouraging to the head of IT who was in the room trying to get the speakers to work.
I could see her smiling as she worked.

Others moved amongst their colleagues, whispering words of dissent and warning that the trip had been cancelled and they just weren’t being told.
We’d told them all we knew of course and it was very hot so this made me cross and I shouted at the main rumour monger and dragged him out for a talking to. I felt better afterwards but not much. Little did I know what fate had in store for him later in the day….

Finally, at 9:30, word reached us that a luxury double-decker coach would be with us in half an hour.

It arrived at 10:45. Oh well, it was a luxury double-decker and was guaranteed to have air conditioning (you’re ahead of me here aren’t you). Obviously there was no air conditioning, there was furnace-hot air blasting from ceiling vents and, joy of joys, a medley of Friends episodes playing on the TV loud enough to drown out my mp3 player. I fucking well loathe Friends more than any other television program ever.

The journey took over an hour and a half, during which time I was frequently reminded that it was ‘too hot’ and that coach journeys were ‘boring’.

I amused myself by refusing to lend any of them my Nintendo DS, or to share my food and drink, or to let them hear what I was (trying) to listen to. I was, apparently, ‘Bang out of order’.

I refined this technique later in the journey by sparingly loaning the DS to just one student and giving a couple of sweets to another. The apoplexy this raised in the rest that missed out was wonderful to behold.

‘Give me some’ (note the politeness) this was usually accompanied by a filthy paw being waved in my face.
‘No’ (as I put another experimental Milk Jelly Baby™ into my already full mouth.)
‘Why not?’ (Whining)
‘I’ve run out’ (stuffing in another experimental Milk Jelly Baby™.)
‘But…’ meaningless babble followed about me having ‘loads left’ which I ignored as I ate more.
The day was looking up…….