Kid A : What's the time? Kid B : Tampax nine! Kid A : Durex-spect me to believe that? Kid B : I johnny well do! Kid A : Well wanks a lot. Kid B : Tit's alright, tit's a pleasure! A general clamour to start this exchange happened at around ten past nine every morning.

Poem given in response to the question "what's the time?"
Half past nine!
Hang your knickers on the line!
When they're dry,
Bring them in!
Put them in the biscuit tin!
Eat a biscuit!
Eat a cake!
Eat your knickers by mistake!
May be met with "no, really. What's the time?" This means they want to hear the poem again.

A religious chant. When the spaceships come, some will be marked with Xs, and some with Os. We're supposed to get in the O ones. Or is it X? Anyway, they haven't come yet.

Classic junior school hymn featuring the line "I was cold, I was naked, were you there, were you there?" in verse three.

In the tabloid-fury-inducing PC establishment of my school, the thought of a classroom of pre-pubescent children singing about being naked was obviously too paedophilic, so we were enthusiastically encouraged to "sing verses 1, 2, 4, 5 and 6!"

Unless, of course, they banned verse three to avoid having to calm down a hundred giggling girls who otherwise wouldn't have stopped for a good hour afterwards.

Where do you live? In a sieve. What street? Pig's feet. What number? Cucumber. Has a certain rudimentary surrealism.

John Whirley had some sort of epilepsy. We discovered that it could be triggered in several ways: shining bright light into his eyes, sneaking up on him and yelling in his ear, and - once - a satchel full of books thrown into his head triggered it. That's serendipity, is that.

During his fits his eyes would roll up into his head, a soft moan would come from inside like he was haunted, then his hands would flutter and rise above his head. Ideally, he'd then pass out and collapse.

Obviously, these were pretty entertaining, and we got to the stage where the demands on Whirley for an eppy were so constant that he'd try to fake them. But he was the only person who'd never seen them, so he was shite at it. Not blowing my own trumpet, but I was much better.

You have been asked to form a line, in twos. The teacher informs you that it is necessary to be quiet, so you must whisper. Upon this decree, everyone must (audibly) whisper the words "whisper whisper whisper whisper" to one another. The teacher will acknowledge this with a grateful "all right, thank you".

Buying permenant markers from Smiths and then substituting them for the dry wipe markers on the teacher's desk resulted in hilarity when said teacher attempted to rub off the day's notes. It was even more hilarious when one of the kids decided to play "rude hangman" when the teacher was away for 20 minutes. When the teacher returned, he was a little surprised to find the slightly smudged-word "COCKSUCKER" printed in large letters on the board.

An unpopular teacher walks into the classroom at the start of the lesson to find, written in large letters on the whiteboard, the phrase

With facts used clearly marked, try to uncover better instances of heresy.

Assuming that it was left over from the previous lesson, she will reach for the board rubber and begin to erase the quote... only to discover that certain "choice" letters have been written in permanent marker, leaving

     f     u    c          k      y  o u       b      i  t  c      h     .

Cue hilarity.

Similar to "we're playing army, who wants to join us?" but without the objective of playing army, and with no girls allowed (in case of 'lurgy' infection). An utterly pointless parade, which would gradually dissipate after 10 minutes in favour of football.

An amalgamation of "we're playing war, who wants to join us", and "who wants to join the line... no girls!" The new, strictly limited tolerance towards girls was forced upon boys, none of whom wanted to pretend to be Princess Leia. Followed the same pattern of standing in line with arms around each others' shoulders, chanting the name of the game again and again, and never actually playing it.

A well-known hypothetial deathmatch game; as taken to extremes in Bear V. Shark. Arguments in this game generally involved people saying "Superman's invincible I win" and "I don't care if Stefan Dennis had a good body under his business suit, Craig McLachlan is totally spunks" (if you are a girl).

On a more practical level, pitting Jesus(recorded miracles only) vs. Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat convinced many children that Christianity wasn't all the church made it out to be.

An assembly warning told all that 'One pupil had been playing in a field where he shouldn't have and got bit on the shoulder by a horse'. An older child gave us the victim's first name - Glen - but no more. A simple game ensued by hitting the entire population of Glen's in our school on the shoulder whilst asking 'who's got horse disease' until one screamed. Due to the unpopularity of the name Glen, the game was played once and only for a very short time.

A real song we were taught at school about a witch who used to keep a hairy toe in a cupboard, until a ghost (to whom the toe originally belonged) came along in the night and stole it back. Both the witch and the ghost sang the line "Whoooooooose got my hairy toe?", even though a witch walking around saying that kind of thing would be asking for it, magic powers or no.

Exclamation made, apropos of nothing, by Alan Lu, who leapt from his seat in the middle of Film Analysis class. General consensus holds that Alan is still and will always be the fruity one.

If you are late, or are moved by the teacher for your unruly behaviour, you may have to sit next to someone unpopular, or someone who smells. You will be asked who your new best friend is; both you and the smelly child must pretend not to have heard. This mutual shame will not cause a bond between the victims, and it will not be spoken of again.

Well worn fart-blame transferral method, first documented in print in an episode of Johnny Fartpants around 1990.
The established order is;
"Whoever smelt it dealt it"
"Whoever denied it supplied it"
"Whoever made the rhyme committed the crime."
Despite some of the best minds in the world working day and night on the matter, no further possibilities have been found. These failures show the difficulties facing innovators; "Whoever tried to tell made the smell" (inelegant) "Whoever passed the buck gassed the truck" (only effective on trucks) "Whoever went to the trouble to needlessly place the blame, probably is responsible for the fart that started the game" (a little long)

A pitiful cry in a bullying situation that very rarely leads to a moment of quiet introspection on the part of the bully. Although it would be nice if the bully replied;
Two things really. Primarily, I'm establishing my alpha male status in the only way I know how, and on a more personal level I'm venting the rage that I feel from physical and mental abuse in the home
as he continued mushing the weedy intellectual's face into pulp.
A rather pitiful response from a victim of, what they consider to be a needless beating, a victim of playground fun. This usually gives the victim about three seconds whilst the attackers think of a reason for said beating. The most common responses for this are: you have a weird face, cos I feel like it or the all time great...shut up you little cunt followed by another thump. what do they think, that your gonna suddenly think shit, what am I doing. Use of imagination would not go unnoticed, sniveling is just pathetic.

The instinctive cry of the RE teacher locked in a cupboard.

Childish riposte to a positive statement about anything at all.
"I really like Brush Strokes."
"Well why don't you marry it then?"
"Would you like a crisp?"
"Yes please."
"Well why don't you marry it then?"
The only possible retort to this is "perhaps I will".

At one of our 5th year semi-formals, a particularly drunk clifford, for a dare, pulled Anne. Not terribly amusing, except that Anne had a crippling speech impediment that made her sound like she had constantly blocked nostrils. In a moment of clarity, Clifford tried to escape, only to be confronted by a confused Anne asking "Why Clefford, why won't you talk to me?".
Thus, whyclef was born. Piss-taking almost petered out in Upper sixth, until we realised that the ceiling tiles in the common room roofspace were a different colour when turned upside down. Clifford walked in next day to find a large WHY accusing him from the ceiling.

(I’m still stumped over what a "semi-formal" might be. The mental image is a rather nattily dressed, partially erect penis. Possibly weighed down by a minature top hat dangling rakishly from the bell end. Susan.)

Approach your victim and tell him that you will say to him the names of various birds, and after each one he must say 'Why?'.
You: 'Eagle'
Him: 'Why?'
You: 'Swan'
Him: 'Why?'
You: 'Sparrow'
Him: 'Why?'
You: 'Crow'
Him: 'Why?'
You: 'Duck'
Him: 'Why?'
You then swing your arm in a horizontal arc and smack him on the side of the head as hard as you can.
It should be a him, as girls lack the linguistic sophistication required for a joke of this cunning. Plus, they might say "Saying why after each bird makes no sense. I'm not going to indulge this folly," the divs.

The female equivalent of a hard on.

An exercise in lameness. Our Geography teacher didn't wear a wig. His hair was just a bit curly. But we called him Wiggy. Shit, right?
But we never even got close to calling him Wiggy to his face. As our school was on two sites, we would see him approach in his gold BMW, and chant "wiggy" to ourselves, stopping some minutes before he even got anywhere close to the classroom. Supershit.
By the time he got to the classroom, we were all perfectly calm and ready to learn about glaciation and viticulture for an hour. God, we were lame.
Having read that back, Wiggy seems rather ostentatious, driving a gold BMW and all. I would like to point out that it was quite old and painted gold. None of my teachers drove a solid gold sports car.

At the age where "going out with someone" was simply to display a willingness to be around someone of the opposite sex, it was common to formally request a relationship with a slip of paper.

Will you go out with me? [ ] Yes [ ] No [ ] Maybe

One of the tickboxes was filled in, and then sent back to the recipient. It's difficult to say whether No (rejection) or Maybe (pity) was the worst result, which is probably why the girls saw fit to add the fourth response,
[ ] stay away from me, you creepy fucking rapist