Tutankhamen's Mummified Scrotal Sac

“Right , does anyone know what this is?”
The class looked blank.
“No ideas at all?”
A tentative hand wavered up.
“Yes, Ponsonby Minor?”
“Is it Tutankhamen’s mummified scrotal sac?”
“No it’s bloody not and take a detention for your cheek.”
“But sir…”
“Don’t you ‘but sir’ me. Tutankhamen’s mummified scrotal sac indeed! Anyone else got any bright ideas?”
Silence.
“Well I’ll tell you ignoramuses what it is, it’s a …aaaarrgh!”
Professor Dolbin was suddenly clawing at his throat from which the head of an arrow protruded! Blood gushed from the wound in spurts, then spurted from the wound in gushes. Then it spurted in spurts and gushed in gushes. A torrent of blood poured from the wound, then a flood followed by a stream and finally a trickle. Professor Dolbin collapsed slowly onto the podium, his mouth frantically opening and closing.
“He’s trying to say something.”
Ponsonby Minor put his ears close to the Professor’s mouth.
“Bloody…. archery …..class.” he stammered and then was dead.
Fancourt from the sixth form came bounding in to the class-room.
“Has anyone seen my arrow?” he said. His eyes followed the direction of the third form’s pointing fingers.
“Oh buggar.” Fancourt said ruefully “I was aiming for his chest. Still, not a bad shot.”