Another Story

Not about Jack though.

In the mid sixties I was doing my teacher training at St Paul's College at Cheltenham. We use to have a number of adult educationists from various points around the World on short one term education courses.

College sport took place on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday afternoons, and because the college had a strong PE course we maintained a good standard of sports fixtures. One chap who came over from the Cameroons, realised that a cheap way to see Great Britain was to travel on the sports bus to the various games. For example if the first football team were playing Aston Villa reserves he would get a free trip to Birmingham or if the Badminton team were playing one of the London Colleges he would go with them.

On this particular Wednesday, we were playing Rugby against Cardiff training college, so he travelled with us. As we neared Chepstow, one of the lads asked Tiny, as we called him, If he had brought his passport with him. He hadn't so just outside the Welsh Border we stopped the bus and put Tiny in the boot to smuggle him into Wales. Once over the border we stopped and took him out again.

During the course of the game, the Welsh winger took off from the half way line and was flying before our number eight forward smashed him into touch with a great tackle. We noticed quickly that there were three people on the deck. One was not in kit , it was Tiny. As he was dragged to his feet blood poured from a bad cut above his eye, St Johns Ambulance to the rescue. It needed stiches so they took him to Cardiff Hospital.

After the game, and the after match meal and drinks, we went to the Hospital to collect our injured spectator. He was sat on a bench in reception with a huge white bandage around his head. He was as white as a sheet, apparently terrified that he hadn't got his passport with him..

Yes you have guessed it, we still put him in the boot to smuggle him back out of Wales. No one let on too him all the while he was in college, that it was a practical joke. He lived on what had happened to him and earned many free drinks as he regaled the story of being smuggled into Wales, during his stay in Cheltenham.

And we were training to be teachers!!!

Another great story mate. But you know if you did it now you would most likely be charged with some kind of racial discrimination/abuse/exploitation offense!

Sadly all the good fun has been had, treasure your memories.

Great story Abbo. :)

Another College tale.

Every year the college had a Rag Week where hundreds of pounds were raised for charity. We often looked for stunts to gain publicity for the fund raising. During one brainstorming session, it was suggested that the Cherhill White horse in Wiltshire would be a good target. Myself and one of the lads who lived Nr Swindon had a midweek drive out to the Chalk horse and did a reconnoitre of the site. This included casual pacing out to get the overall size of this monster. I say monster because it can be seen for miles from the A4.

Some long nails and rubber washers were purchased, and with some help from the females at our sister college St Marys, old blackout curtains from war time, were cut into one yard widths. A free lance photographer was brought on side, and on the Saturday night three car loads of students made the trip to darkest Wiltshire in pouring rain.

We left the photographer dozing in one of the cars while we made our way across the now muddy fields to the hillside. The chalk horse was by now a slippery mess. After about two hours, our work was complete, and as dawn started to break on this wet March morning we made our way back to the parked cars. We raised the photographer from his slumber, and he set to work snapping away at the wet hillside.

We were so wet and covered in chalk that I made the lads take their trousers off before they got into my car. We stopped for petrol at a garage on the way back. In those days an attendant came out to fill your car up. A blast on the car horn woke him up in his hut, and as he started to fill us up, rubbing his eyes, he suddenly realised that there were four young men in the car with no trousers on! I can imagine him telling his drinking mates about that later in the day.

The following days National Newspapers displayed the pictures, some made the front page, displaying the new Wilshire resident. A wonderful Zebra now adorned the hillside. The nails, washers and curtains had done their job well, despite the inclement weather. We later learned that the local Bobby was tasked with the job of clearing it up. I bet he enjoyed getting his uniform cleaned.

The publicity worked and enough money was made to purchase a tractor to send to Africa.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by abbobrom

Another College tale.

Every year the college had a Rag Week where hundreds of pounds were raised for charity. We often looked for stunts to gain publicity for the fund raising. During one brainstorming session, it was suggested that the Cherhill White horse in Wiltshire would be a good target. Myself and one of the lads who lived Nr Swindon had a midweek drive out to the Chalk horse and did a reconnoitre of the site. This included casual pacing out to get the overall size of this monster. I say monster because it can be seen for miles from the A4.

Some long nails and rubber washers were purchased, and with some help from the females at our sister college St Marys, old blackout curtains from war time, were cut into one yard widths. A free lance photographer was brought on side, and on the Saturday night three car loads of students made the trip to darkest Wiltshire in pouring rain.

We left the photographer dozing in one of the cars while we made our way across the now muddy fields to the hillside. The chalk horse was by now a slippery mess. After about two hours, our work was complete, and as dawn started to break on this wet March morning we made our way back to the parked cars. We raised the photographer from his slumber, and he set to work snapping away at the wet hillside.

We were so wet and covered in chalk that I made the lads take their trousers off before they got into my car. We stopped for petrol at a garage on the way back. In those days an attendant came out to fill your car up. A blast on the car horn woke him up in his hut, and as he started to fill us up, rubbing his eyes, he suddenly realised that there were four young men in the car with no trousers on! I can imagine him telling his drinking mates about that later in the day.

The following days National Newspapers displayed the pictures, some made the front page, displaying the new Wilshire resident. A wonderful Zebra now adorned the hillside. The nails, washers and curtains had done their job well, despite the inclement weather. We later learned that the local Bobby was tasked with the job of clearing it up. I bet he enjoyed getting his uniform cleaned.

The publicity worked and enough money was made to purchase a tractor to send to Africa.

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You are a [were] a bad, bad boy!

Copy cat effort from April 2014.

Attachment 16312

Great stories Abbo - thanks.

Another Rag Week Tale.

Our College Rag Week held in March often clashed with the Cheltenham Festival. In 1964 the two best Chasers in Great Britain, Arkle and Mill House, were due to meet in the prestigious Cheltenham Gold Cup, the pinnacle of jump racing, held over three and a half miles.

At the time there was great concern with the racing authorities about the doping of race horses.. Security at the racecourse had been ramped up, with many horses spending the night in the racecourse stables. A perfect target for us to exploit.

Arrangements were made, brushes and white wash obtained, and as the clock struck midnight, we made our way across the fields from Prestbury into the Racecourse. We made our way to the Paddock and surrounds and painted several RAG signs on the grass and tarmac. We then made our escape.

As expected the Racecourse Executive went berserk, but we were one step ahead. Central TV had already been contacted and were there to witness and film, about fifty students dressed as lady cleaners, armed with mops and buckets. The cleanup was completed and in the end the Course executive were more than happy with the near five minutes free publicity they gained from the film on Central News. Although I am sure they would have held a stewards enquiry over their security.

However, it didn't end there. One of the Art students had built out of large empty catering jam tins and some dowel rod a huge syringe. It was painted bright yellow and the word DOPE was painted on the side. On the final day of racing, our best athlete dressed in a long overcoat, to hide his running kit and syringe, made his way down to the furlong pole. After the last horse had gone by in the final race, he shed his overcoat, ducked under the rail and chased the horses up the famous Cheltenham Hill. The now well oiled crowd, roared there approval as our man passed the packed stands before ducking under the rails to a waiting car.

As the spectators drifted away, the Rag collecting tins were filled with loose change. Even the late great Peter O'Sullivan contributed to the cause. Even the Gloucestershire Echo ran a front page spread.

Abbo, I'm not being patronising, but you carry on with these and I think you've got the makings of a small book in there mate.