Return of Clarkey

Yep, Mr Clarke has made a comeback in a lesson so wild and wacky that it deserves yet ANOTHER blog post.

Look, it was either this or me doing another 'you're trapped in a room with only a key and a map to the door... how do you escape?' post, so count yourselves lucky. Actually, just having this blog exist to give a meaning to your pointless lives, so stop bitching. Well, nobody is bitching. I'm just imagining people sitting at their computers going "W00t?!!!???Q1? MR KRALKE AGAIN! LOL ROLF HAXX0R P0WRNS LOL ROLF AAHA!!!! ONE!!!!!!11!!!

Man, I hate the words 'w00t' and 'haxx0r' above all other techno-babble. THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING, YOU NERDS. Just use the correct word or go and suck some power cables. Actually, do both. Wankers. ANYWAY. Here's the lesson:

Class files in dutifully. Thomas slumps at his desk, already depressed beyond measure, and buries his handsome manly face in his handsome manly hands. Mr Clarke wanders in and wanders out again without saying anything.
The classroom assistant comes in with some equipment. Everyone cheers. We ask him if he fancies teaching the lesson instead. His reply? 'Mr Clarke is much more entertaining.' Hmm.
Clarkey comes and gives out some graph paper. There isn't enough. Somebody asks him if there's any more. His reply? "There is definitely enough I think."
We do the graph. Oliver and Joe start hurling bits of paper at Thomas's back. Thomas sits there while half a bloody tree covers his seating area.
Mr Clarke does some stuff with his computer, which seem to mostly involve him scrolling back and forth across a spreadsheet full of pointless numbers. He brings up an experiment from yesterday that Thomas wasn't in school to experience; apparently, it involved dice rolling. Thomas is amused at Oliver's group's claim that they managed to roll 24 sixes in a row out of fifty dice. Not only this, but Mr Clarke also bought it.
Pete's cheeky face pops up at the door. He grins at us. Mr Clarke doesn't notice.
We do some more boring notes.
Pete's cheeky face pops up at the window. He grins at us. Mr Clarke doesn't notice.
Thomas writes something in his book, feeling the slow, yet deadly, onset of suicidal depressiveness that always occurs at around this time on a Tuesday. There's a medical term for this; "Ohholyshitwearentevenhalfwaythroughthefuckinglessonandtheresstillanotheronetogoandmygodmrclarkeisacuntatosis".
Pete's cheeky face pops up at the door AGAIN. Thomas wonders why Pete isn't in lessons. Mr Clarke see's him, and chases him out the door with a cry of "You there! Boy!"
Thomas turns and throws paper balls back at Oliver and Joe, who giggle girlishly.
Mr Clarke returns to the room and gives Thomas evils for no reason. Thomas sits there and pretends to look abashful.
Mr Clarke plays with his computer some more. He calls us up to the front for a demonstration. He doesn't know what the radioactive isotope it, then sprays the front desk with cancer rays. Thomas makes up a new game called 'Leper's Elbow': basically, you stab Joe in the arm with a really sharp compass. Thomas also makes up a joke:

What is Micheal Jackon's favourite game involving cows?
Moolesting boys.

Hahaha. Well, it made me laugh. The cow jokes are a new invention by me and Omer. Here's the most offensive we could come up with:

Where did Jewish cows go in WW2?
An extermoonation camp.

You have no idea how much that made us laugh. We really are a bunch of racist cunts. Still.

Mr Clarke fucks up the experiment. He gets annoyed and tells us to sit down again. He also gives Omer a detention for standing there.
Mr Clarke starts to write something on the board. He gets one letter in, then totally loses what he's doing. He turns round, tells us to stop whistling. He gazes slack jawed into the air for a good twenty seconds, not doing/saying anything. Finally, somebody in his brain gets up and gives the machinery a kick, and he goes back to writing.
It seems that about ten people start whistling. Mr Clarke gets annoyed and turns round again. We all shut up. He goes back to working.
Whistling starts again.
Mr Clarke stops writing. He caps his pen. He walks over to the desk very slowly, and picks up a tissue. Everyone gazes at him, silent. He stares into space for half a minute, then looks at his computer and taps the mouse with his hand. He then reveals to us that we've been working from the wrong textbook for the entire Physics course, and that he refuses to teach us any more unless we stop whistling. Thomas LITERALLY has to bite his lip to stop cracking up.
Mr Clarke goes back to work.
A few people start clucking their tongues really loudly.
Mr Clarke loses the plot again, and gazes back into space. He refocuses and sends Oliver outside. Oliver walks out, looking abashed, and probably pisses himself out in the corridor laughing.
Mr Clarke lets Oliver back in.
Mr Clarke gives Oliver a detention.
The bell rings, everybody piles out of the classroom, except Oliver, who Mr Clarke wants to have a talk with.

BUT THE STORY DOESN'T END THERE.

We sit in Biology, being quiet and well behaved. Oliver doesn't show up. We worry about him.
Many theories are put forward to his disappearance, the most popular being 'Mr Clarke is raping him'.
The bell rings. We realise that Oliver has actually probably used his talking to from Mr Clarke to go home early.

Yeah. This was a boring post. But I fucking swear you, it was piss funny at the time. We are such a terrible class to teach, I swear. We have made both the Physics and Chemistry teachers contemplate retirement. But the Biology teacher loves us. Apparently we are lovely. Hmm.

Zombie Implement of killing: really long sharp scissors!