New Lousey! Online Issue 2
Foundering Day - A Celebration of Failure

As a new fund-raising opportunity rapidly approaches, bringing with it the tedious baggage of some dull foundation stone-related justification, we celebrate the foundering of CH staff member and pupil alike.

With such a large body of incidents to detail Lousey! cannot hope to cover every failure, but in our whistlestop tour of downfalls in CH, we hope we don't miss anyone's favourite.

1993 - Bandmaster lays Stone. It was the band that provided the focus for the first great foundering in recent years. The bandmaster opted for a hands-on approach to student relations, and was consequently forced to run off with the lumpish Sarah Stone. His family wasn't best pleased, but much more important was the absence of a man to take over the band's preparation for their yearly exhibition of militaristic pseudo-fascist pomp. Masterfully, the school stepped in by sewing extra buttons on the band captain's coat sleeves, and they needn't have worried - it was as reassuringly dull as every other one.

1994 - Husband loses wife. In a surprise step the famously witty history teacher made a career switch into the fast-moving area of Hull parcel delivery. Like the errant bandmaster before him, the bearded joker found words alone weren't sufficient to communicate with certain pupils, and elected for a slightly more physical approach, but was cruelly handed his own resignation by a headmaster who didn't understand his innovative teaching techniques.

1995 - Kent rape in West Sussex. Sebastian Cunt, renowned intellect, and theatrical raconteur, decided, for a change, to tackle someone other than his fellow testosterone-saturated rugby enthusiasts, and went for something only slightly more attractive in the form of a similarly simian female. Alas, Seb's decision to pump something other than the usual iron did not inspire any great affection in his would-be betrothed, and the scrum collapsed. She accused him of rape, and demanded a jail sentence - he thought a penalty try more appropriate.

1995 - McCall calls it a day. It was a dark day for the maths department when this renowned silver-maned mathematician's calculations went seriously awry. Mr McCall's decision to step gingerly out of the closet in front of one of his tutees, turned into an undignified ejection from the entire school when his amorous advances found no reciprocal. It all added up to a sordid affair whose result was McCall's subtraction from the staff roster.

1997- Derbyshire not in Oxford (says geography don). A desperate search for a toilet ended Oli's Oxford ambitions. Despite the expert preparation afforded by the C.H. careers department, no one had warned the poor student that it wouldn't always do to go urinating on other people's beds. For some reason, unknown to the writers of this précis of events, authorities at the venerable institution took particular exception to the fact that the bed chosen by the weak-bladdered malefactor was occupied at the time by a girl. End result: Oxford 1, Derbyshire Nil.

Advertisement:

PRISON
DOCTOR

Mrs Noel-Paton
(Old bag, The Infirmary, ever since Mr Noel-Paton turned up)

A tribute to the many brave people who were admitted to the infirmary during their time at C.H. and never returned.

It has taken Mrs Noel-Paton a long time to share her memories of the Infirmary. Prison Doctor is, however, well worth the wait. Unsensationalised in its description of endurance and inventiveness, this is a rare first hand account of people who never lost hope - or their sense of humour - in spite of every adversity. In their quest for survival prisoners managed the seemingly impossible on occasion. Frequently, for instance, they were able to smuggle in items, such as medicine, to alleviate the suffering of fellow inmates, despite the ever-watchful eyes of their torturers.

It is a tale of incompetence, of second-rate medical care, and above all, weak orange squash, but shining through this account of terrible hopelessness and degradation is an astonishing sense of humour. Many died in misery and squalor and survival seemed miraculous, but survive some did.

All proceeds from this book will be kept

Christ's Hospital Antiques Roadshow (Take 2)

[Hugh Scully standing in front of a bustling hall]
On 5th September the BBC Antiques Roadshow came to Big School and was a great success. Hugh Scully commented "I was amazed at the number of antiques. It was easy enough to wheel Mr Kirby in to be examined, but they had a bit of trouble with the entire Christ's Hospital heating system."
[Cut to the Bursar]
"This is wonderful news," said Mrs Adams, "almost every part of Christ's

Hospital's living facilities is a valuable antique. I'll sell the windows immediately. I'll just check whether the old desks are worth anything."

[The Bursar is sitting at a table with Hugh Scully. There is a desk on the table]
Hugh Scully: This is very interesting. You say you paid nothing for this desk?
Bursar: No. It was just lying about.
Hugh Scully: It's always difficult to date these things...[turns desk over

and peers at the underneath]...Yes! I don't believe it! It is!
Bursar: [excited] What is it?
Hugh Scully: Oh it's not important - just some graffiti a friend of mine scratched on when he was here. It isn't worth anything.
Bursar: So they're worth nothing at all? Oh well. There's only one thing to do with useless old rubbish.
Hugh Scully: Throw it away?
Bursar: No, [smiling viciously] sell it to the parents. Can I interest you in our mail-order catalogue?


©1997, the Authors and Editors of Lousey! Magazine.
Click here to return to Index