Sorry to burst your bubble, but your history teacher hates you.

Perhaps not personally. Perhaps it’s just the condensed expression of a general hatred towards all carbon-based life forms, probably acquired while he studied his degree. And you know what? I kind of understand the poor fellow. History can be torturous. Memorizing an endless list of names, dates and events can be the most boring thing in the Universe, and prolonged exposure can seriously disrupt your perception of life as a whole, not to mention your social skills.

Whatever the cause, the truth is that your teacher has been hiding the interesting bits away from you while he spat forth the boring stuff that makes history books so thick.

You are not alone.

After finishing my own degree in history, and well on my way into my doctorate, I would be close to becoming one of them. But I remain loyal: I’m still one of you.

This said, expect the nasty bits, the awesome stuff, the rude words and the partial nudity that history should have offered since day one.

Close your text books and lock them away, the class is about to commence.