An unwilling Jack Russell terrier can be coerced into licking ones scrotum by the simple application of lemon curd to ones parts.

A flawless system of truancy detection.
Missing a class would involve its teacher writing your name and details of your crime on a yellow piece of paper.
(Lemon Slips sounded infinitely more menacing than yellow paper, though - both effete and mysterious, you can imagine the shudders running down a gentleman's spine.)
These lemon slips were sent to the school secretary, and they were then inserted in the register each morning.
Registers were then left completely unguarded in every form room for a 15 minute period ahead of registration, every day.
There was very little reported truancy at my school.

A man who would tempt boys with Dime Bars, then grab them around the neck and rub his knuckles into their head. Girls, however, he would grope and try to pull their jumpers up. Which was nice. A load of 5th years let his tyres down once, and he chased them with a baseball bat.

Leo was two years older than me and liked to take amyl nitrate so as to make anal sex easier. After one such session, he managed rather skilfully to curl an enormous turd around the seat of one of the toilets. This was a very traditional boarding school and since I was in the bottom year, as a "fag" I was called upon to remove the offending poo. I was able to do so successfully by using a silver trowel that the Queen Mum had used to lay the foundation stone to one of our school buildings. Eight years later my brother was at the same school and told me about the apocryphal "Legend of Leo's Log" little knowing that (a) it was a true story and that (b) I had been the one who'd had to clean up the foul mess.

Possibly this is made up. I don't care. A silver trowel! My sides are bursting with class outrage! Like an episode of Citizen Smith! Sadly this submission came anonymously but whoever you are, we salute you and your shitty past. You're head of ICI now aren't you?

Some people (specifically Ceri Govan) may be so amused to find out that sometimes leprosy causes sufferers noses to drop off, that they laugh out loud for a full 15 minutes and are sent to sit on their own at the back of the room for the rest of the year.

The drain in the middle of our playground always used to always have a layer of slimy mud-crust swilling around it.
The dirtiest person in the school was deemed to own this drain - after maintaining this ownership for several weeks, Leslie eventually had the swamp named after her.
If you were pushed into her swamp, then you were forced to marry Leslie. This made you one of Leslie's Lezzies - if you were a girl. Boys just became her regular husband, which made them gay. Because even skiddy boys' bums were cleaner than Leslie's toxic shock factory.

The name of the mythical hairdresser where Miss Harris had her hair cut very short.

Lessebo is a locality and the seat of Lessebo Municipality, Kronoberg County, Sweden. It had 2,623 inhabitants in 2005.
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It's also the name of the IKEA sofa that your mum likes to sit on when she's making out with Sandy Toksvig.

In true Derek Bentley style, the school hooligan did, and instead of handing over the hat cracked my mate Chris's head on the playground.

Another example of highly encourageable simple children. Timmy Long was a special needs kid at our primary school who would, if you chanted "Let's Go Timmy Long!", start to run around the playing field in ever decreasing circles, until he reached a point where he would be spinning in a circle.
As a finale, he'd collapse and have to be taken home.

The female equivalent of bum chums. Apparently, let's be friends sounds just like lesbians. Doesn't it.

A series of GCSE revision books. Owning any book in the series was an admission of being an overenthusiastic gaymosexual bumdoctor.

Kid A : Lezbie friends. Kid B : Homo you don't. There's lots more but I can't remember it.

Logic employed by people who compenstate for their lack of intelligence with a need to be obeyed.
Librarian: You've all got to move, you're blocking the fire door.
Me: But we're the only ones here.
Librarian: But it's dangerous, you're causing an obstruction.
Me: The door is locked anyway!
(I demonstrate by trying the handle)
Librarian : But I have the key in my drawer.
Me: You're only here two days a week! And what if you die in the fire?
Librarian: Just get on with your work and try not to block the door.
Us: Okay...

A lamentable attempt at a catch 22 (qv), clearly thought of in a couple of bored minutes. You were asked "Do you lickadickaday?", to which you would obviously answer no unless you were the most pathetically retarded person in the whole world ever. I guess they thought concatenating all its constituent words would confuse the victim. The result of an affirmative answer is obvious, but if you answered 'no' they'd claim that "lickadickaday" was Latin for breathe. Which failed to be particularly cutting, but it's debatable whether this was because no-one in their right mind would believe this, or because "ha ha, you don't breathe" doesn't really cut it as an insult.

Frank's girlfriend was on life support. She was in a coma for two whole school years, yet somehow sweet Frank stayed faithful.
One day some people asked if they could go and see her. No they couldn't, because she'd died over the summer.

At the age of 5, I was taken out of class and made to wait outside the headmistress's office. While I was there I was told that I had been seen looking into the girls' toilets.

I burst into tears as I stood on a white square on the chequered floor (something we had to do when we'd been naughty, perhaps to highlight our stained souls against the whiteness of tile). A teacher walked up and asked me why I was crying.

"Because I didn't do it!" I said.
"But if you didn't do it, why are you crying?" she replied, stonily.

It was at that moment I realised that the world was fundamentally unfair.

Safety lessons with Mrs Burge in primary school were a riot of incomprehensibility. We learned that if someone touches a live wire their muscles will be paralysed by the force of the electrical current and they won't be able to let go. She got Kevin to pretend to be electrocuted by the lightswitch (eyes rolling, tongue lolling, zzzt! zzzt! noises).

Obviously you can't touch Kevin to push him away from the switch, or zzzt! zzzt! - you're frying too. You need something that won't conduct. Plastic. What's made of plastic? A lunchbox!

Mrs Burge then took my Thundercats lunchbox, complete with Marmite sandwiches, and used it to nudge Kevin away from the switch.

Fucking *weird*.

Generally produced in Mr Maltman's maths lessons by considerate people with watches. You know the drill: you get the watch at a nice angle to the window so you reflect the sunlight to make a nice jagged dot of light on the wall. You can chase other people's light spots, or, alternatively, project them into Mr Maltman's face, at which point he will say something like "I am aware." Whatever the fuck that means.

The sweep of sudden good behaviour that settles over a class when a routine session of pre-teacher misbehaviour goes horribly wrong. Within seconds, everyone will be sat, books turned to the correct pages, in absolute silence.
A good example being when a game of indoor football knocks a cup of full coffee onto the fifth years' coursework.
Time stopped, the camera swept around the football, there was an extreme close-up on a droplet of coffee, and every child lifted into the air, and flew back into their seats.
The teacher, when he arrived, would see two things; the culmination of the fifth years' secondary education rendered useless, and a class of 30 really well behaved twelve year olds.
We thought the two things would pretty much balance out.

Connecting steel rulers across the terminals of the batteries of those lab packs. These rulers were then used as swords, which let off* an impressive flash of voltage whenever they connected.
If anyone's ever connected two 3ft steel poles to the mains and fought with them, I'd love to hear their stories. I never had the balls.
*Hurrr... let off...

basically there is this lass reyt, called lily adamsoon and she is a lettuce licker.

If you see a limousine, or indeed any very expensive car, shout "Hi Dad!" at it, implying that your father is the very wealthy person being driven in the limo.

If you're in the company of someone who uses the "Hi Dad!" line, retort with "I didn't know your dad was my dad's driver!"

Assuming, of course, that you don't go to a school where being the offspring of gypnak pikey dolescum is considered fashionable.

The exponent gently draws an exclamation mark on the the victim's spine, reciting "Line, Dot". He then digs his index fingers into the kidneys and twists them violently, creating the desired electric shock effect.
Can backfire if the victim turns around in surprise just as the attacker is doing the electric shock bit, leaving the attacker with his hands on the victim's hips in an awkward and obviously homosexual clinch.

Listen to this,
Too good to miss,
dum dum de dum dum dum
*trump*

If you're lucky enough to have another trump in the tube, or cunning enough to clench mid-toot, then be sure to sing;

Here comes another,
Must be its brother,
dum dum de dum dum dum
*trump*

Timing is essential if you're to pull this off successfully. You must be on beat.



This is in E major. Adjust the key to suit the size of your arsehole, and change to a minor key if you think you might shit yourself.