I remember a day when our whole class (all boys) were making life Hell for our Religious Education teacher. I don’t remember exactly what we were doing but she got pretty bent out of shape and decided to belt us all – this was back in the day that teachers could use the belt. We all lined up, laughing and joking, pretty sure she would have little impact on our outstretched hands.
Sure enough, she didn’t. Apart from one guy who reacted as if he’d been hit across the hands with a cricket bat. He yelped and stuck his hands under his arms and then spent what remained of the lesson making a big fuss and being called all kinds of names for his trouble.
Anyway, the lesson ended and we all trooped off to our next class – PE! We were due to spend the lesson in the main sports hall and we hoped it would be to play football rather than do circuit training.
Our luck was in. The hall was kitted out with goals and twenty-odd footballs so, under the watchful eye of the PE instructor, we started picking sides.
All the while, the guy with the sore hands was hopping from foot to foot, cradling his hands and grimacing. The PE teacher spotted this and asked him what was wrong. He turns to the teacher and explains about how he got the belt in the previous lesson and that his hands were still sore. So the teacher, not known for his tender-heartedness, looks him up and down and says to him: “Well, in that case, you’ll be playing in goals today.”