Having cricket shoes that looked like they had been handed down from your Victorian ancestors guaranteed you the nickname of bearded cricket legend WG Grace. If your name was Clive that is. An "accurate" replica of Grace's signature was then stencilled permanently on to both shoes and a new chant created of 'glasses, teeth and beard', continued indefinitely. The glasses and teeth bit were from Clive's own milk bottle and ivory features, the beard WG Grace's.
This game involved a gang of people holding me down while someone drew huge sideburns in permament pen on my face just before the teacher came into class.
They got to draw sideburns on my face, I got to spend 45 minutes cleaning my face instead of doing RE. Sweet game.

This diagram, taken from the Silver Service manual, illustrates three of the most essential elements of waitressing.
1. Give the customer their food immediately upon their arrival.
2. While they are eating their food, show them the menu.
3. Everything is ten pounds.
A process involving one victim, one person sitting on the victim's chest, and two people walking in opposite directions with the victim's legs.
Recommended by ALL teachers as the perfect anti-bullying method. But when I tried it, the cunt spat on my neck.
Basis of the bullying of Anthony Loucaides. We would jeer, point and kick him, whilst singing The Police song. When we sang "What's it like walking on the moon?" we would all then ruffle his hair. This would usually provoke a brutally violent response on his part as he lashed out wildly with wind-milling arms screaming "I don't know; I've never been there". In hindsight, this was an adequate and fair response. It did not prevent further puerile brutality however.
A way of demonstrating how hard and/or stupid you are. At ours, it started off quite mildly but soon escalated t o the stage where the wall was being thumped so hard that shards of brick were falling off, and kids would come in to lessons with blood pouring from their knuckles. This was largely tolerated by the teachers and went on for some while until some kids hit on the idea of using their heads instead of their fists.
1982 film starring Ian McKellen as Walter, a mentally handicapped man. This was the first film to be shown on Channel 4 in England. Highlights include;
"on his first night in a mental hospital, he is sexually molested by a paraplegic dwarf"
"Finding his mother dead in bed, and unable to comprehend what has happened, Walter moves his pigeons into her bedroom, keeping a vigil while her body becomes progressively covered in bird droppings"
Walter became synonymous with Joey Deacon.
Here's the imdb link - why not submit a review? We'll be watching that page... Christ, you can buy it, too!
An afternoon gathering place for boys in the early stages of masturbation exploration, in which they could sit and toss off save in the knowledge that girls rarely went to Wangas. Wangas was a big plot of wasteland near our school, and the tree a big, slightly collapsed Oak. If you sat in the tree you had to wank to the point of ejaculation otherwise you couldn't get down. The tree had an established hierarchy, the better you were at wanking, the higher in the tree you wanked. Therefore, you were less likely to be hit by anything flying out above you. One kid (Steven McIntyre) was really popular in our class, thanks to his hard Army brother, but fell down the wanking order after he claimed to have spunked, when in actuality he had just secreted a mixture of piss and precum. Dirty liar.
Pretending to wank followed by flicking the wrist, and the imaginary ejaculate, to one side. As you do this, say "oops!", as though ejaculating is the last thing on your mind when you're having a wank. The first time the "oops" variant was used was in a PE lesson. The bollockings and detentions lent it such bonus kudos that it caught on very quickly.
Will generate instant kudos if said - quickly - in place of "Thank You Very Much" to a figure of authority.
A handkerchief set aside for exclusive wanking use. Also "spunky wankerchief" - a freshly used wankerchief. A hanky used after a single badly-planned wank, and then returned to normal handkerchief duties, is not a wankerchief.
Make a fist, hold it up in front of you.
"What's this?" you ask your victim.
"I don't know!" they reply.
"Wanker's cramp!" you respond, continuing with "Do you get it?"
"Haha! Yes!" they gleefully reply.
"Do you get it a lot? You must be a wanker! Wanker, wanker, wanker!" Victory is yours.
A plea : did the hard lads in anyone else's school have wanking races in lessons or was it just our school? It mainly happened in maths. Three or four lads would sit at the back with their knobs out and masturbate under the desk - to completion. Sometimes the pikey girls would join them with shatterproof rulers for measuring purposes. This also occurred on the back seat of our school coach. Any chance they got, really. Was this really a unique phenomenon?
As a pupil at an all boys school, the number of flesh-and-blood women suitable for adolescent masturbation fantasies was limited. A discussion of the subject revealed that only two or three female teachers were utilised by the whole class. A suggestion was made that this made us all gay, and so, not wanting to appear gay, the idea of wanking rights arose. Essentially this was the same as calling "shotgun" for a car - the first person to see the teacher that day would shout "wanking rights!" when the teacher was first sighted, usually as she entered a classroom, and that person would then have the sole rights to wank thinking of that woman for one day.
Makes You Blind
If you wank into your own eyes and do not rinse, wanking can make you go blind. This is bad, as you need your eyes to wank if you're going to get the spunk out in under 30 seconds. "Thinky Wanks" take longer and are not worth it.
Among the many identical "comfy" chairs in our sixth common room there was one on which someone had written "WANKY WANKY WANK WANK (it's Friday innit)". I think the Friday part was an afterthought, a misguided attempt to explain the previous statement. The chair became an essential accessory to any activity, to the extent that people were tipped off their chairs to see if they were sitting on the WANKY WANKY WANK WANK chair. When it was found, it was carried triumphantly out of the room, and we took it onto the all-weather pitch and played football around it.
A: Want some gum?
B: Ooh, yes, please.

Presumably the victim is too shocked by the voracity of the comeback to take you up on the offer.
When I was very small, about kite size, I had a deep fascination with guns. I had over 50 mock guns, one in particular was about four and a half foot long (with a weird tooth like object that moved randomly). Myself and 3/4 friends would run about a small Cornish village making the noise similar to that of a metal dog being fired into a school window. The problem was we would end up fighting about who shot each other first - for example "You can't shoot me back, I shot you in the face" "No you didn't you missed" "No I saw your eye explode" "No that was a bird" The weird thing is, now I have a gun and I want to kill them all, slowly over a period of hours.
James Reed would put his hand on the table and produce half a wasp, stuck to his index finger. When asked how it got there, he would say that he swallowed it, and it magically appeared in his finger. He also fancied my sister, the sick bastard.
1994 was not a particularly good year for Mike Swinburn. During the months that PJ & Duncan topped the charts, he lived in fear of the sudden cry of "LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLE" resonating throughout the playground, followed by a chant of "watch us wreck the Mike, watch us wreck the Mike, watch us wreck the Mike - psyche!"
Unfortunately for Mike, "psyche" meant a punch in the stomach. Sorry, Mike.
Someone severeley lacking in co-ordination, motor-ability and self-control (an Arch-Deacon). Once identified you must approach, force your tounge into your lower lip (as ever), slap your left wrist with the back of your right hand and shout "duuurrrr... watch breaker".
Whenever an aeroplane would fly over the school playground, all the kids would wave their hands frantically in the vain hope that the pilots would mistake us for stranded civilians and land to save us. Surprisingly, they never did.
The victim would be clamped to the ground and force fed grass. Meanwhile, the perpetrator and any invested observers would remind the victim how fortunate he was by singing the words to the Anchor Butter song: 'we are lucky cows - we chew the cud and browse'.

Count yourself lucky. There are some cows out there who aren't chewing the cud and, erm, browsing. You wouldn't want to be one of those cows, would you?
After declaring war on a neighbouring gang and throwing stones at them for a while, it was customary to link arms and parade around the street singing "We won the war, in 1964". Despite the fact that it was 1978, and the other gang had only left the field of battle because it was time for their tea.