Jesus Christ!

Another day, another end of term trip for Year 3. The mollycoddled kids have had more trips than your average Grateful Dead fan. And what do you know, I always seem to end up with the BAD trips.
Oh look, SCAREY green faced alien figure with hyper eyes pulling faces at me.
Teacher to Boy Y:
‘Boy Y, please leave onionbagblogger alone. You know he is an end of term spoil spoilt who doesn’t see the funny side of being a human punch bag for little brats who understand all too well that the rib roughing game is a strictly one way relationship.’

I’ve found Jesus

Thursday was the mother of all comedowns with my THIRD visit to the Horniman Museum at Forest Hill in a month. I really should investigate buying a season ticket.
Our mission today was to look at masks; the Horniman has a fine collection of headgear from around the world that would even manage to make the most menacing eight-year old Mike Tyson wannabe into an ass. And so that is exactly what I did, silencing my mini sparing partner by making him wear a donkey’s head for the day. If the cap fits etc.
The animals went into the ark, two by two (I have a habit of partnering up the two dumbest with each other, the two most farty pants and the two kids with the unfeasibly sized foreheads – a kind of S Club Juniors for freaks) and the biblical weather heralded our call.
The planned morning session spent playing in the gardens (laughing and giggling at the erection on a Billy Goat actually) was cut short with yet more of this July Showers shit.
Everybody inside!‘ went up the call.
Find your partners. Boy Y, look for the other evil eyed monster with 666 on his forehead.’
How to kill an unplanned hour with a class of forty end of term tearaways who even with their mental capacity yet to be fully developed, have dawned on the fact that I don’t really like children very much.
Um, run around, as far away as possible from me and don’t come back until you have found something interesting.’
Should do the trick.
Five minutes later and one of the 666 boys returned with the declaration of:
I’ve found Jesus.’
Blimey, that’s not bad going for a boy who has been berating me all term and causing me to come to school armed with a crucifix to fight off the evil within.
Look, there’s a picture of Jesus on the wall.’
Oh God,’ I muttered under my breath, with all the excitement of opening your front door to a Jehovah Witness.
What was that?‘ picked up the jug-eared little junior (no co-incidence that I pair him up with the little smiler that they all refer to as ‘Jumbo’ in the playground.
Um, Jesus, God, wow, take me to your saviour…
Meanwhile, one of the more physically developed boys in year 3 had returned having ‘found boobies.’ And he had as well. A fine pair of jugs, nipples standing to full attention. The Education Officer in the Museum had some marvellous mammary glands and I was about to congratulate the young fella on his advanced ways when he turned round and pointed at an African mask being worn by a topless tribeswoman.
Never mind. She also had nice tits.
Half an hour to go until our scheduled session on the Ancient Egyptians and the Aquarium at the Horniman gave us the perfect setting to Find Nemo. The rules are simple: Send off the ankle biters to explore the various tanks, and please take your time, and don’t disturb me until you have FOUND Nemo.
Nemo of course didn’t exist, but there was a tank full of piranhas that presented me with the moral dilemma of turning a blind eye to the Please Do Not TOUCH sign that some of the little darlings couldn’t read.
And so on to Ancient Egypt. Half an hour on the 176 bus, being punched black and blue and then witnessing the Second Coming in South London takes it toll. All that I remember was the mass laughter (the kind of piped stuff that you hear on shitty sitcoms) when the 48EE Education Officer gave me a sharp prod in the ribs (is there a sign on my forehead saying TWAT ME AS HARD AS FUCKING POSSIBLE) as I dozed off.
Egyptian artefacts were passed around at the time and I tired (and failed miserably) to male a lame joke out of the fact that a wooden head rest was heading towards me.
Bugger, being caught asleep on the job. Too many BAD trips.

1 Comment so far

  1. Unlucky man (unregistered) on July 9th, 1904 @ 1:09 am

    I’ve never visited the Horniman, despite being only a couple of miles away from it.
    My local museum only inspired kids to go to it cos it had ‘the lamb with two heads’.
    Despite your protestations, I am going to visit the Horniman. And report back.



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