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A Brit teachers' website has a thread on "Bizarre teachers we have known.

This is the best yet:

Member of staff who became obsessed with getting to the bog before a colleague who always made the most astonishing stink in there - I think his diet consisted of cabbages, broccoli, peas, beans, Newcastle brown and Gauloises. Whatever, if you went to the bog after this bloke you could TASTE the smell - truly appalling, a dead bear's bum was nowhere near it. Small school, one gents wc only, no stalls.

Anyway, this developed into a race at lunchtime which began as a good humoured one but later developed needle: the smelly one used to dismiss his class a minute early, grab his newspaper, run to the netty and esconce himself. Obsessive one would try to beat him, fail four days out of five and then stand outside, occasionally rapping on door and then make exaggerated swooning motions when the door opened and the colleague (and the pong) emerged.

Anyway, one day, obsessive colleague arrived just too late to get in first, found netty door locked, snapped, raced into staffroom, picked up loaded starting pistol for afternoon sports day, went back to netty and fired the whole magazine at the bog door.

Shocked silence, reek of cordite.

Toilet door opens, headmaster emerges: "Mr Smith, would you mind telling me.....?"

It was one of few times in my life that I have genuinely wept with laughter.

As the head told me later, at least he was in the right place to sh!t himself with fright. "Thank God I'd got my trousers down before the shooting started".

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