I'm sure that in our formative years, we all had teachers who at some point took time to share anecdotes from their lives. These can range from boring, to genuinely interesting, but also to the downright strange.
I remember a couple of years ago, in my Year 11 English class, our teacher shared with us this:
He was on holiday in Paris, quite some years ago and needed to use a phone booth. The nearest one was already occupied, so he waited. And waited. Eventually, he opened the door, and saw the man tottering there, with the phone dangling off the hook. He tapped the evidently shit faced man on the shoulder. The man turned round and started gibbering at him, getting all in his face. Out of alarm, he shoved the drunk, who fell hard against the inside of the phone box and sank to the floor. A pool of blood started to spread.
My teacher ran off, and returned to his hotel room, freaked out by what had just happened. He'd just killed a man. After some deliberation, he decided to turn himself in. The French police were understandably alarmed by a sudden confession of murder, especially having not received any calls about a body being found. At their request, he took an officer to the phone booth where it happened, but there was nothing there. The booth was empty. As they were leaving, and my teacher was preparing for a fine for wasting police time, he noticed the drunk he'd pushed standing with a friend. The man notices them and shouts something to the effect of 'hey, there's the prick who made me break my bottle of wine!'
Your move, Escapists.
I remember a couple of years ago, in my Year 11 English class, our teacher shared with us this:
He was on holiday in Paris, quite some years ago and needed to use a phone booth. The nearest one was already occupied, so he waited. And waited. Eventually, he opened the door, and saw the man tottering there, with the phone dangling off the hook. He tapped the evidently shit faced man on the shoulder. The man turned round and started gibbering at him, getting all in his face. Out of alarm, he shoved the drunk, who fell hard against the inside of the phone box and sank to the floor. A pool of blood started to spread.
My teacher ran off, and returned to his hotel room, freaked out by what had just happened. He'd just killed a man. After some deliberation, he decided to turn himself in. The French police were understandably alarmed by a sudden confession of murder, especially having not received any calls about a body being found. At their request, he took an officer to the phone booth where it happened, but there was nothing there. The booth was empty. As they were leaving, and my teacher was preparing for a fine for wasting police time, he noticed the drunk he'd pushed standing with a friend. The man notices them and shouts something to the effect of 'hey, there's the prick who made me break my bottle of wine!'
Your move, Escapists.