Game created on a 'team building' trip with the rest of our sixth form which involves somebody (in this case Andrew) allowing line of people to poke his face, and slap his cheeks or whatever, until at a random number, andy will release an almighty thwack to the side of that person's head, usually resulting in the person falling down. This is similar to the game 'buckaroo' where you load up a toy horse or something and it kicks out and makes you jump when it's had too much stuff on it or something.
Can be contracted by passing within a few feet of Andy Graham, the poor kid, or by eating custard at school dinners. (Only Andy Graham would eat the stuff, and we assumed it was because he was so poor and didn't have food at home). The only cure was to be wrestled to the ground by a group of kids screaming "NURSE!" and pretending to spray you with aerosol. Sometimes, if the afflicted person was unpopular, nobody would attempt to cure them for fear of contamination themselves. Thus, sat at the back of the class with no mates, when the teacher asked what the matter was, the often tearful child would mutter "I've got the Andy Graham Disease sir".
Andy McNally : an oafish lump of a child. His squirrel game : to take a squirrel that he'd found outside his house, take it into a field and repeatedly throw the roadkill as high in the air as possible.
Angel's Mum was an older girl in our school. She wasn't my mum, of course, but she was judged enough like her to warrant the nickname.
She died in her sleep the night before an exam, which was absolutely awful. Almost instantly, I was being equally consoled and ridiculed for having a dead mum.
Select a victim who is eating something runny e.g. custard, milk, rice pudding.
Just after he has filled his mouth with food, run past screaming "ANGRY DRAGON!" and slap him round the back of the head.
This will hopefully result in the food coming out of his nose - and when he turns to look at you, he will indeed look just like an angry dragon.
If the food doesn't come out of his nose, you still have the chances that he might reflex-swallow and choke on it, or bite his spoon really hard. He'll still be angry, so it's all good.
The name of a mystical pornographical film, in which a man makes love to a chicken, and a woman is taken by a horse. Someone's brother had a copy, of course, but if you all ran around their house, all 200 of you, and piled into their bedroom, they'd have lent it to someone. Someone from another school who was even older, who wouldn't give it back until you'd all found out about WASP, and started singing "I Fuck Like A Beast", and couldn't care less about men shagging chickens anymore. This all seems quite old hat, now that 4 year olds are getting emailed videos of wanking monkeys and men running their heads into an elephant's fanny. Porn just isn't sacred anymore.
My mate Pike jumped on a squirrel. He did. It's eyes popped out and everything.

Readers! Have you ever jumped on anything so that it's eyes popped out? My brother once trod on a pregnant gerbil, and apparently her eyes AND babies popped out! Unfortunately, he couldn't say whether the babies' eyes popped out, too. Please! Share your stories of jumping on something so that its eyes pop out - Log
A retarded girl.
It was a peculiarity of Anita's retardedness that she got upset very easily. You would only have to say "Hey, Anita!" to get her attention, then say something innocuous, like "It's raining!". This would cause her to scream "It's not!", start crying, and run away.
When I was about seven years old, Anita would have been about fifteen. My friend and I climbed a small flight of stairs to find her standing at the top, with her handler and a teacher (who was congratulating her on how well she was behaving that morning).
I decided that this would be a very good time for her to go mong in the head, so I yelled "Hey Anita... YOU HAVE NEW SHOES ON!"
Normally she would have said "I DO NOOOOT", cried, and run away. This time, however, she picked me up, bellowed in my face, then threw me down the stairs.
Funny folk, these mingmongs.
In the late 80's there was a weekly, Captial radio phone-in about personal/sexual problems. It featured self-appointed sexagonal-aunt Anna Raeburn, and a Doc. Essential listening for all 16 year olds eager to learn about loving relationships, Or the eye-watering ins and outs of butterballing.
One night, Adam Wright was the anonymous caller. After the tragic death of his mother, his dad was forcing him to do the housework. Wearing her frocks and perfume.
As things worsened, he was urging young Adam to pay particularly close attention to the bedroom. In order to show him some fundamentally incorrect love.
Adam was gulping and fighting back tears throughout, and so moving was the concern of Anna and the Doc, that Adam didn't have the heart to tell them - even when his mother called him down for tea - that they'd just been fished in by a fuck-minded teenager.
The TDK D90 containing this conversation was a treasured artefact for many weeks.
A crowd chant to sing along with acoustics from banging on your lockers to welcome the years ugliest minger through the doors at break. After a while, thanks to a form of short term nostalgia, this is still fun even when Anne Marie isn't there.
Song about Anne, sung to the tune of 'Consider Yourself' from 'Oliver':
Anne fingers herself,
At home.
Anne fingers herself,
In front of the family.
She wanked off a horse,
At the farm.
Its clear,
She,
Didn't do any harm.

Not to be confused with 'Annie's Song' by John Denver. In THAT one she wanks off a pony.
At 12, I was in love with her, and everyone knew it. But she had an on/off relationship with Duncan Keeling.
Out of pure, wretched sympathy for me, she gave me a peck on the cheek for my birthday, pausing just long enough to look for a clear patch of skin that wasn't covered in adolesent acne.
It still hurts now.
An alternate name for the windowlickers who often have their special lessons in an annexe. The mong migration can be observed with an Attenborough-esque sobriety.
The Scotsman newspaper always ran a story each year about the ranking of all secondary schools in Scotland. It took into account performance and attendance, and also had a section on facilities. When I read the bit about my school, I saw that we had a pony club. Did we fuck.
Song sang to greet Mrs Keates back to school after a lengthy absence, during which her father died. Her mother died 6 months previous.
Said, slackmouthed and emotionlessly, in reply to patently unfunny joke/remark. Preceded by: Oh. Ha ha.
Any question on any exam can easily be answered with "Only smarties have the answer." The triumph of this art undoubtedly came when my mate and I translated the phrase into German and wrote it for every question we couldn't do in our german GCSE - which was probably such a high proportion of the exam mainly because we spent our lessons looking up things like "Only smarties have the answer," on reflection.
The many variations on the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Coat song "Any Dream Will Do" (Or, "I Did a Huge Poo") (Or, "I’m a Mass-ive Jew"-Susan).

Must also be accompanied by a child choir, so the song will go thus:
"I closed my eyes (I closed my eyes)
Walked into a table (Aaah aah)
Now I'm disabled (ah aah)"
The song tended to end there.
Previously, the only kids who got to watch a film in the main hall were the big ones going to secondary school the next September. So when we were told we were watching a film that afternoon, we reckoned it was the sex-education one we had been discussing since moving from infants to juniors (specifically discussing if there were willies in it or not). But it wasn't. It was a farm safety film, the action cutting between between a bunch of Children’s Film Foundation types playing hide-and-seek on a farm, and a crying mum making a party tea. Except the playing kids all died one by one (one drank weedkiller by accident, one drowned in silage, one got run over by a tractor) and mum was getting ready for a wake. It put us all right off willies.
"Go ape shit", to spazz-out, have a benny, throw a wobbler. Extreme versions include "ape shit crazy on all fours" (Stephen Fry) and "ape shit on toast".
A word used in science, and PE. And no-where else in the world.
A less macho name for multi-million selling album "Appetite For Destruction".
In lieu of a see-saw, we had a big plastic bowl thing, which wobbled around on the ground when filled with children, like a giant weeble.
When inverted, it resembled a giant pie crust. It was therefore a logical step for myself and various misanthropic cohorts to carry it around the playground, trapping unsuspecting children beneath it, climbing on top and hammering on it with our fists, all the while shouting "APPLE PIE! APPLE PIE!"

This sounds way more fun than a crappy see-saw. Hats off to that local education authority - Conor

Unfortunate but generally OK history and politics teacher, whose name, as Richard Beddoes once noted, sounded like a fart in the bath.
(This reminds me of Robert Newman's nostalgic entry in the Mary Whitehouse Experience Encyclopaedia, in which a butler called Waddle was accidently summoned to his master's bathroom with a hot water bottle, after the master farted in the bath. When the master questioned his butler, Waddle replied "I distinctly heard you say What about a water bottle, Waddle". Christ almighty, I'm having nostalgia about other people's nostalgia, now. I hope, one day in 2018, someone fondly recalls this paragraph. - Log)
The tube of a cotton reel neatly accommodates a pencil. Loop a thick elastic band over the bobbin (fnuff!), pull back the rubber (phraa!), and you can fire the pencil out at puncturing speeds.
If the idea of launching a sharpened pencil into someone's face and eye causes you some concern, simply launch the entire school pencil supply into a polystyrene ceiling.
If anyone asks where you got a ladylike thing such as a cotton reel, answer "I stole it off a gay". If they ask why you are stealing things from gays, reply "to better know mine enemy".