| Report for anonymous user | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 480 |
| Pending stories (hidden) | 325 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 546 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 1048 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
Should you be entrusted with the dubious honour of photocopying teaching material, it is incumbent upon you to make asinine alterations guaranteed to cause a giddy head rush.
Your starter for ten: a highly childish assault on the periodic table achieved by inserting the word "Jimmy" after the symbol for copper ('CU...Jimmy').
Your starter for ten: a highly childish assault on the periodic table achieved by inserting the word "Jimmy" after the symbol for copper ('CU...Jimmy').
The "Flying Talbot" premise itself probably owes royalties to "Private Eye". You used to be able to buy sets of three ceramic winged cocks, in a flying duck style, from ads in the back of the magazine. The whole "Talbot" thing was some sort of in-joke they had at the time.
after dinner I did a shit,
(then backwards)
soon after desert I did another
(then backwards)
soon after desert I did another
A child with an exceptionally small penis. i.e. a penis so small, it could fit in the hole of a Polo Mint.
Accusations of minterdom are rarely backed up with any form of medical or photographic evidence.
Accusations of minterdom are rarely backed up with any form of medical or photographic evidence.
Based on the Pepsi Challenge.
Participants are offered one cup of squash diluted with tap water, and one cup of squash diluted with river water that has just trickled through the corpse of a sheep.
They are then offered the chance to say which is the real "Barker '95". Their answer is entirely irrelevant.
Participants are offered one cup of squash diluted with tap water, and one cup of squash diluted with river water that has just trickled through the corpse of a sheep.
They are then offered the chance to say which is the real "Barker '95". Their answer is entirely irrelevant.
At the start of physics, we "advised" the class spazmo Matt to spend the lesson in the cupboard, in case the "boogieman" came after him. Half way into the lesson he improvised, and burst out punching the air shouting "Come on Boogieman, I'll take you on". He got put in detention.
Apparently some lads in the year above would collect dogshit (or sometimes rabbit droppings), bake it with mint and try and pass it off as a block of cannabis, and thus sell it to gullable pezzas. Quite clearly a lie, due to the fact that dogshit smells no matter how much you try to mask it, and that only the dirtiest jip would consider picking the stuff up.
Led to our local bus company changing the signs to 'Emergency Door' - which, like some public-transport-fueled arms race, in turn gave rise to 'Virgin Loo'.
We had a lad called Dave Hill at school. We'd often try and 'recreate' the disaster by getting him worked up about it then squashing him against the wall. All in the best of taste of course...
Birmingham also has the delightfully named places of Camp Hill, Lickey End, Acocks Green and Shaftmoor Lane. Hours of fun.
Town planners do it deliberately you know. Rude-sounding place names are what made this country the Great Britain that it is. Ah, I can almost hear the sound of a suggestively brassy trombone and Esther Ranzen chuckling her way through a link to a piece on cot death. Nostalgia!
Town planners do it deliberately you know. Rude-sounding place names are what made this country the Great Britain that it is. Ah, I can almost hear the sound of a suggestively brassy trombone and Esther Ranzen chuckling her way through a link to a piece on cot death. Nostalgia!
I swear someone said this to me as a comeback to a "your momma" joke but to this day I have no clue what he meant...
Directed Study is where you were put if you were a "classroom distraction". You got put in an isolated location for several days instead of being allowed to attend regular class. In my case, it was a janitorial closet/supply room just off the main hall. The powers that be seemed to think this was punishment. Since I hated nearly all my white trash classmates and was bored stupid with the narrow curriculum offered by the corn pone teachers, this gave me the opportunity to wrap up with the busy work fast so I could spend the rest of my time drawing. Now I am a professional artist in a big city and they're all still there inbreeding.
Thanks guys! I don't miss any of you.
Thanks guys! I don't miss any of you.
It seems unlikely that this is really based on serial killer Ted Bundy. We did a similar thing based on WWF wrestling star King Kong Bundy who was something of a legend at an age where we weren't quite convinced that WWF was all fake.
If anybody called you a pig, you could declare that it stood for "Pretty, Intelligent Girl", and was thus a compliment.
I'm Popeye the sailor man,
I live in a frying pan.
I turn up the gas and I burn up my ass,
I'm Popeye the sailor man.
I live in a frying pan.
I turn up the gas and I burn up my ass,
I'm Popeye the sailor man.
Take the bit from the end of a shoelace. Fray out the lace, and push a pin through. You now have a small dart, which when launched through the trusty hollow biro will stick into someone's body (or, more amusingly, face) and hang there in a relatively painless way, giving them tetanus.
If you are a teacher named Mr. O'Brian, it's not a good idea to introduce yourself to a class by telling them that the name 'Mr. No Brain' is not funny as you write 'Mr. No Brain' on the blackboard.
"Dense Yense" copied someone's work during a physics test. Right down to their name at the top of the page.
Q. Guess What?
A. What?
Q. Hotpot.
or
Q. Guess Why
A. Why?
Q. Pork Pie.
On reflection I'm a little dissapointed that we never utilised when, where, how or who. Especially who, because that rhymes with poo.
A. What?
Q. Hotpot.
or
Q. Guess Why
A. Why?
Q. Pork Pie.
On reflection I'm a little dissapointed that we never utilised when, where, how or who. Especially who, because that rhymes with poo.
The next line is;
"Durexpect me to believe that"
"Durexpect me to believe that"
Open gym, leave the equipment room unlocked, get the teacher's assistant to do attendance then leave the class to its own devices, getting paid for sitting in the P.E. office with the door locked looking at porn for an hour and a half.
The teacher got more exercise than we did.
The teacher got more exercise than we did.
Steve was the best ice cream man ever. He was pale, but his ice lollies were cheap and tasty and he had the coolest afro that I've ever seen. Unfortunately, Steve let us down big style when he left for Australia and was replaced by a new ice-cream guy...Dino.
The guy was Italian and scary. The ice cream tasted weird and we told him Steve's was way better. He smiled and winked and told us that HIS ice cream was better because "It's full of the stuff that little girl's need and little boys know about" He laughed and handed over his "ice cream".
The guys loved him and used to rush out shouting "Deeeeeeno! Deeeeeeeno!" thinking that this guy was just the dogs bollocks...the girls used to avoid that side of the playground altogether and Dino eventually disappeared once a girl in Year 10 claimed that he tried to grab her. We never got a new ice cream man. Thank God.
The guy was Italian and scary. The ice cream tasted weird and we told him Steve's was way better. He smiled and winked and told us that HIS ice cream was better because "It's full of the stuff that little girl's need and little boys know about" He laughed and handed over his "ice cream".
The guys loved him and used to rush out shouting "Deeeeeeno! Deeeeeeeno!" thinking that this guy was just the dogs bollocks...the girls used to avoid that side of the playground altogether and Dino eventually disappeared once a girl in Year 10 claimed that he tried to grab her. We never got a new ice cream man. Thank God.
Version of telling, or arrrrrrrr. The main group of people would shout "ee-a, ee-a" for around three minutes, circling the offender, and one person would go for the teacher. Presumably we were a fleet of police cars, which is something of a disproportionate civil response to someone doing a smelly trump.
We did a similar one called Jig-Cal or somesuch. It suggested I become a Parole Officer; Butch Garry was instructed to become a roof-hanger and Camp Kevin's career was to be a Florist.
A potentially brain damaging game played - in general - with the class Warhammer fan.
It involves shouting duck!, and then hitting the victim around the head with a hard object.
After some time, the subject may get wise to the game, and take steps to defend himself. At this point, simply shout duck! after hitting him with the hard object.
It involves shouting duck!, and then hitting the victim around the head with a hard object.
After some time, the subject may get wise to the game, and take steps to defend himself. At this point, simply shout duck! after hitting him with the hard object.
all day I deserve a sexual (rubbing) - this version addresses the underused (R) registered trademark symbol.
At my primary school when someone said something that was blatantly untrue, like 'my dad drives a tank. He keeps it in the garage', the correct response was to push your tongue into your bottom lip and go 'urhhhhh chinny barbados'.
An arbitrary standard of quality devised by Phil to assess peoples technology projects. As in if it doesn't withstand being battered with a huge mallet then it was obviously a piece of crap anyway. In retrospect this may be a slightly unfair test of ply-wood and dowling strength. Note that passing the test did not exempt you from further retestings.
My best friend claims that when he was about 8 someone in his class called Wayne really did accidentally kill himself by putting pencils up his nose and bringing his head down on the desk. My friend's exact recollection of the incident was "I don't mind that I saw it happened, I mean, it made me the person I am today. I didn't really know what was happening to be honest, but there was fuckloads of blood."
I just laughed because this urban myth is rife with fifteen year olds around the time of GCSE mocks. I still don't believe him but he swears it's true. It happened in Wigan, which makes it ever so slightly more believeable.
I just laughed because this urban myth is rife with fifteen year olds around the time of GCSE mocks. I still don't believe him but he swears it's true. It happened in Wigan, which makes it ever so slightly more believeable.
Once a pupil has pushed a teacher to the edge, causing them to hit or throw something at said pupil, it is the moral duty of the rest of the class to chant "Sue! sue! sue! sue! sue! ..."
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.
I made my pre-school brother a Rocket Man suit just like in the series (BBC2, black and white – cliffhangers? – I know it had a Rocket Man in it). It had a helmet, a jetpack and some buttons on a belt. I was so proud, and the costume rocked so much that I played outside in it. And got spotted. To some, I remain King of the Rocket Men to this day.
The novelty record was sung by Mike Berry, who played Mr Spooner on "Are You Being Served?". One can only assume that this was not a career high for him.
Well at least you didn't get nicknamed Franzi after the damned thing. Like I did. Odd to find that gay pig around here.
A computer character also existed called 'POB', who would obey basic verbs; he could jump, smile and so forth. However, he seemed ever reluctant to eat my shit.
A boy, in need of support and companionship after receiving a prosthetic testicle, tells his 'best friend' about said operation. Within minutes the entire school knows. Within hours his name is 'clacker knackers'. Withing a week, kids are waiting for him to pass by at break times with a couple of Coke cans, clanking them together to match the rhythm of his walk. The bionic bollocked boy flees.
The act of grabbing the victims ankles and dragging them across the school playground while they struggle and scream. If you drag using the trouser legs alone, you can pull the pants down enough to cause bumdrag on actual cheeks, which is like an elevation to godhood.
Is Sillitoe pronounced 'silly toe', I wonder?
A totally non-PC game where somewhere's rubber is daubed with the union jack and the words BNP. For additional effect, the rubber can then be used as a stamp to accessorise exercise books.
It's "my dads a banker and he banks all day", actually. And I'm 15, so I should know.
Possibly the funniest joke of all time. BEWARE - if you read this you may die laughing. You approach the unsuspecting victim with the usual 'Knock, Knock', 'Who's there?' 'Idunnop'. Try to keep a straight face as he unwittingly replies 'I done a poo'. Hilarity obviously ensues.
If you walk into a toilet cubicle to find a dirty great fucking big crow sitting on the bowl, there are two options you can follow.
You can slowly back away slowly and find another cubicle, or you can shit everywhere and run screaming through the crowded dining hall with your trousers around your ankles. I chose the latter course of action.
You can slowly back away slowly and find another cubicle, or you can shit everywhere and run screaming through the crowded dining hall with your trousers around your ankles. I chose the latter course of action.
'jew run' - a footballing term describing the glory-seeking pitch-length run of the boy who wanted to score the goal.
Thus, if someone selfishly hogged the ball it was called a 'jew run'.
In my innocence, I always assumed that what was being said was 'due', as in 'due respect'. It was only recently that I discovered the anti-semitic overtones of our playground taunts. Obviously I pissed myself.
Thus, if someone selfishly hogged the ball it was called a 'jew run'.
In my innocence, I always assumed that what was being said was 'due', as in 'due respect'. It was only recently that I discovered the anti-semitic overtones of our playground taunts. Obviously I pissed myself.
The term for extreme peanutting is, of course, 'chokeanut'
In 1973, Gary Glitter's "I'm the leader of the gang, I am" was number 1 in the charts. To commemorate this event, Peter Bagnall's mom bought him a black bomber jacket and embroidered the words 'I'm the leader of the gang' on the back in big red joined up letters. The irony was that Bagnall was the snot kid of class 3B and was leader of no gang at all.
At my school one girl would be the horse, with the skipping rope tied round her, and another would 'ride' her, running along behind holding the handles.
So the game pretty much consisted of running, and I had no idea there was anything wrong with selling videos of it to sweaty old men.
So the game pretty much consisted of running, and I had no idea there was anything wrong with selling videos of it to sweaty old men.
A good comeback to someone playing this trick is to approach them and ask 'can you read palms?'. Thinking that you have walked right into their hands, they will reply 'yes'. You then reply 'read this then', at which point you extend your palm to reveal the words 'YOU ARE A COCK'.
The sound omitted from Mrs Tulley's mouth when Iain Lenton bit her on the neck in 1986, a year in which he thought he was a vampire.
She shouted 'fuck' quite clearly then added 'shun' on the end in a meaningless attempt to disguise what she said. Rumours went around for six weeks that she was being sent to teach in the Congo.
She shouted 'fuck' quite clearly then added 'shun' on the end in a meaningless attempt to disguise what she said. Rumours went around for six weeks that she was being sent to teach in the Congo.
The practice of alternately dedicating the 6 urinals in the toilet boy girl boy girl boy girl. Using a "girls" urinal was tantamount to a confession of homosexuality and it wasn't uncommon to see boys desperately hopping from foot to foot waiting for a boys urinal to become free. Anyone unaware of the rules who blithely used a "girls" urinal would rightly be greated with screams and howls of disgust. I think the stupidity of this was apparent to us even at the time, that said the looks of confusion at being admonished for using a "girls" urinal are quite unlike anything I've seen since. The game recieved a welcome revival in 4th year at secondary school when a new toilet was built which had individual urinals instead of the "trough" style which had to be declared single gender as a matter of logistics. The fun was partially sucked out of the game when upon shouting at a first year that he was gay for using a "girls" urinal he told us to "grow up and stop being a bunch of tits".
Urban myth: Again a philosophy exam, the question is 'What is courage?' Answer: 'This is'. He gets an A too. Bollocks.
Also, try Spina Smiffida for anyone with the surname Smith. And they're ten a fucking penny, so it's not like one of those if you know someone called Sigourney Weaver, why not call her Big Horny Beaver? entries.
…Or, A Rather Upsetting Story From a Fifty-Year-Old Woman Inadvisedly But Heartfeltedly Seeking Some Sort of Catharsis on a Whimsy-based Internet Site. We hope you all feel terrible now.
The boys loved me, and the girls hated me. I am fifty years old now, but when I was nine years old, I was the first girl in the history of my school to wear a bra in Grade Five. They were cotton then, with metal hooks, and pointed...Beverly Hillbillies was big back then, I had long blond hair...I became the immediate focus of all the boys attention, being yelled at with "falsies" each and every turn...I made the big mistake of replying "I don't wear falsies." I got a big guffaw, well prove it...I guess they expected me to lift my bra...this was aside from the boys always pulling at the straps. One day leaving school, I noticed a crowd of boys gathered..."You are going to prove that you are not wearing falsies", I knew I was in big trouble, I ran...I ran, and I almost made it home, but I was knocked down, and about twenty guys put their hands up my bra and got a good feel...oh this was about 1963 when all the world was full of prim and proper people...
The boys loved me, and the girls hated me. I am fifty years old now, but when I was nine years old, I was the first girl in the history of my school to wear a bra in Grade Five. They were cotton then, with metal hooks, and pointed...Beverly Hillbillies was big back then, I had long blond hair...I became the immediate focus of all the boys attention, being yelled at with "falsies" each and every turn...I made the big mistake of replying "I don't wear falsies." I got a big guffaw, well prove it...I guess they expected me to lift my bra...this was aside from the boys always pulling at the straps. One day leaving school, I noticed a crowd of boys gathered..."You are going to prove that you are not wearing falsies", I knew I was in big trouble, I ran...I ran, and I almost made it home, but I was knocked down, and about twenty guys put their hands up my bra and got a good feel...oh this was about 1963 when all the world was full of prim and proper people...
Well with mine being Richard William Lowe - Dick Willie Lowe :-(
At Crossfields, an all boys public school, swimming lessons involved compulsory nudity.
I wish this wasn't true! The practice ended just after I left, due to the 'self-consciousness of the boys'. No shit. This was in 1985.
A nice twist came when the swimming teacher's daughters (in cossies) were in the pool on some sort of open day thing, and we all dived in to join them, much to their embarrassment, but not ours.
I wish this wasn't true! The practice ended just after I left, due to the 'self-consciousness of the boys'. No shit. This was in 1985.
A nice twist came when the swimming teacher's daughters (in cossies) were in the pool on some sort of open day thing, and we all dived in to join them, much to their embarrassment, but not ours.
Nah, but you soon fuckin' will be was the retort, followed by the kthudkthudkthud noise that only a pupil cartwheeling down the flag stone stairs can make.
Happy days indeed.
Happy days indeed.
Nah, but teaspoons do. Steal three teaspoons from the dining room. One each in live and neutral ( before the days of shuttered sockets this ). Flick the switch, then drop the third teaspoon across the now live pair.
As I discovered, one almighty fuck off great big bang later, and the transformer that serviced that block caught fire.
Most amusing. So much so I repeated it whenever I could. Damn the day when the circuit breaker was installed. Damn it and its eyes to hell and back.
As I discovered, one almighty fuck off great big bang later, and the transformer that serviced that block caught fire.
Most amusing. So much so I repeated it whenever I could. Damn the day when the circuit breaker was installed. Damn it and its eyes to hell and back.
I understood this was spent 'feinites'. Besides, we used cross keys down here, you shit northern wuss.
We also did a Jig-Cal. I (and possibly only 3 other people in the year) were told to become leather technologists. Quite what leather technology is I don't know but we were advised that you could do a course in it at some dubious ex polytechnic university in England.
My friend and I enjoyed nothing more than recreating in Attenborough-esque detail the savage zoological struggle for survival on the desk tops. My hands would form the "predators" in exactly the same way as Roger above. My friend would take on the role of the "pogolopes", a 3-legged creature made up of his first two fingers and a thumb. The predators would invariably maul the pogolopes until in a move of evolutionary brilliance the pogolopes learned to jump to great heights and escape the predators clutches. In response, the predators evolved to leap and float down with their legs spread like a parachute.
Nobody ever questioned any of this. We were 17.
Nobody ever questioned any of this. We were 17.
Could also be used in various electrical chain stores (at least in the days before password protected screen savers), where the kids knew more about the computers than the assistants; i.e., all of them.
We had a different version. There was a girl who was "13" and she wanted to be "84". When she was "45" she went to the doctors and the doctor said 'oh' ("0") take these pills "2" times ("x") a day but she took them "4" times (don't press times this time) and she ended up ("=")... If you miss out the "0" then the poor girl ends up "bobless"
Yelled by a victim immediately after a strike to the testicles.
However, it takes the balls four seconds to switch from “spunk and fuck” mode to “Christ, that hurts” mode. So genuine testicle pain begins some time after the strike, leaving the poor man precious seconds of hope before the nausea, agony and red piss starts.
So, why the immediate awwwww!? Two possible reasons – it’s either a desolate wail of the man who foresees his immediate future, and sees that it is bad. Or, they’re filthy eunuchs who’ve never known the true agony of the thwacked nut.
Girls! Think you have an equivalent pain to the white thud of the smashed bollock? Speaking on behalf of the boys, I don’t think so. Convince me otherwise for a prize!
However, it takes the balls four seconds to switch from “spunk and fuck” mode to “Christ, that hurts” mode. So genuine testicle pain begins some time after the strike, leaving the poor man precious seconds of hope before the nausea, agony and red piss starts.
So, why the immediate awwwww!? Two possible reasons – it’s either a desolate wail of the man who foresees his immediate future, and sees that it is bad. Or, they’re filthy eunuchs who’ve never known the true agony of the thwacked nut.
Girls! Think you have an equivalent pain to the white thud of the smashed bollock? Speaking on behalf of the boys, I don’t think so. Convince me otherwise for a prize!
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.
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.
Stands for Big Tits. Requires two participants and a big titted girl. One boy shouts "beeee... teeee..", the other runs up to punch the tits and shouts "Cellnet!"
Then both parties run away, because punching girls in the tits gives them cancer.
Then both parties run away, because punching girls in the tits gives them cancer.
A game derived from the rhyming slang of gypsy's kiss, meaning piss. Quite simply, drink four cans of coke and the last one to take a slash wins.
Acronym for pants off, legs open. A general term for a slapper.
Alternatively, penis out, legs open which is a general term for tediously drawn out foreplay.
Alternatively, penis out, legs open which is a general term for tediously drawn out foreplay.
Garden hopping to some. Had a Grand National which lasted over a mile and took retribution on posh kids in big detatched houses. Climbing each fence and hedge was exhausting especially with grown men occassionally in pursuit. Always liked the water hazzards as difficult to see them on other side of fence. Mate broke his leg when he fell into one and, unlike war films, we did leave him, it was better that way. There was also a flat course called the Derby over rows of terraced housing back yards that a competing school used but clearly missed the point of both amusement and class action.
I did the same with a mate. Claimed to be 'Spanish Inquisition' when sent to headmaster. All very odd as very mixed race school where caucasians in the minority. Still have great photo of me pretending to axe off my best mate's head (who was Indian) in the woodwork room. Pupils thought it hilarious and voted us joint winners of the 'mufty day' prize. School photo shoot with local paper was cancelled though. Instead put some fat female teacher dressed as a St. Trinian in. Original.
Get a thin drinking straw from a Calypso packet. Catch a frog. Spawning season is a good time, as they're too busy clambering all over each other to bother about having a thin straw stuck up their anus. Stick the thin straw up the frog's anus. Blow gently. Believe it or not, this inflates the frog, which cannot then deflate.
Added fun : launch the bloated frogs on a pool and try to burst them using marbles launched from Black Widow catapult.
There’s only one thing we hold sacred here on Playground, and that’s TRUTH. (And fags. Fags are important as well.) We believe this entry to be unmitigated bollocks. However if you know different, if you are a zoologist or specialist in frogs anuses, please write in. If you’d like to write in just to go "aaaaaah, anonymous user is a vast liar and probably GAY", then that’s all to the good too.
We can’t even guess how you’d go about finding a frogs anus.
Added fun : launch the bloated frogs on a pool and try to burst them using marbles launched from Black Widow catapult.
There’s only one thing we hold sacred here on Playground, and that’s TRUTH. (And fags. Fags are important as well.) We believe this entry to be unmitigated bollocks. However if you know different, if you are a zoologist or specialist in frogs anuses, please write in. If you’d like to write in just to go "aaaaaah, anonymous user is a vast liar and probably GAY", then that’s all to the good too.
We can’t even guess how you’d go about finding a frogs anus.
A Black Country idiot.
Our school had pull-back partition walls separating some rooms. When we were upstairs in French, we used to throw planes down at a class diagonally below us. Their teacher usually went bananas at us but one day as a plane was slowly wafting down towards her, she looked up sharply and her left breast fell out of her dress. She didn't notice. Her entire class did. She ended up having a nervous breakdown.
Start of a Muslim chant. Teachers and Muslim pupils react badly if it is sung to the tune of 'Everybody Dance Now' by C&C Music Factory.
Sorry to crash your entry darlin’, but even us mighty editors can’t submit new stories while the backlog remains so big. (It’s my only motivation for wading through most of the fliddy tat we get sent, I can tell you.) (Just joshing, Log thinks it’ll sex up the site a bit if I’m all stern and authoritative. Fucking perv.) Anyway, our school consisted of about two hundred white kids and one black girl. The teachers were afraid to ask her what sort of "black" she was, in case they looked racist, so to play it safe they got us to learn about all the other religions in the world that weren’t Anglo-Saxon, the better to acclimatise her to our culture. This culminated in an RE lesson where we were told to split up and write a song about one religion per group. Our group came up with the wildly popular "S.I.K.H". Sung to the tune of YMCA, it went:
S.I.K.H, it’s fun to be an S.I.K.H/
You can worship five Ks/
Wear a turban on your head/
If you don’t want to do that, be a Jew instead, S.I.K.H…
If memory serves correct I played the letter H. -Susan.
Sorry to crash your entry darlin’, but even us mighty editors can’t submit new stories while the backlog remains so big. (It’s my only motivation for wading through most of the fliddy tat we get sent, I can tell you.) (Just joshing, Log thinks it’ll sex up the site a bit if I’m all stern and authoritative. Fucking perv.) Anyway, our school consisted of about two hundred white kids and one black girl. The teachers were afraid to ask her what sort of "black" she was, in case they looked racist, so to play it safe they got us to learn about all the other religions in the world that weren’t Anglo-Saxon, the better to acclimatise her to our culture. This culminated in an RE lesson where we were told to split up and write a song about one religion per group. Our group came up with the wildly popular "S.I.K.H". Sung to the tune of YMCA, it went:
S.I.K.H, it’s fun to be an S.I.K.H/
You can worship five Ks/
Wear a turban on your head/
If you don’t want to do that, be a Jew instead, S.I.K.H…
If memory serves correct I played the letter H. -Susan.
In a similar vein to The Fog there was The Lair, sequel to The Rats. It had a juicy scene in but at least these lovers got to finish humping before they both got killed. It was my first encounter with anything vaguely pornographic and as such was read and re-read so many times the book fell apart. I can still almost quote it verbatim. "At 25, Alan was up and coming, at 34 Babs was down and hadn't been coming enough..."
It goes on to descibe how he'd taken her over the filing cabinets and she'd dragged him yelping round the office with his bollocks tied by his tie. Still, they were having an affair so they probably deserved to get eaten by gigantic fuckoff rats.
(Also, in Creed, there was a bit where a nasty lady wanked off the hero and wiped her fanny with his "juices", (what a word, Mr. Herbert, what a word!) which created hundreds of little sex ghosts that floated around the room. I think James Herbert needs to give his mother a ring and start asking questions –Susan.)
It goes on to descibe how he'd taken her over the filing cabinets and she'd dragged him yelping round the office with his bollocks tied by his tie. Still, they were having an affair so they probably deserved to get eaten by gigantic fuckoff rats.
(Also, in Creed, there was a bit where a nasty lady wanked off the hero and wiped her fanny with his "juices", (what a word, Mr. Herbert, what a word!) which created hundreds of little sex ghosts that floated around the room. I think James Herbert needs to give his mother a ring and start asking questions –Susan.)
Even better, if you blue tack one of those plastic craft knives into the fold down the centre of the aeroplane, so that the blade protrudes from the front of the aircraft, it becomes a highly accurate and lethal weapon of terror that will easily lodge into walls, blackboards, flesh etc.
Please don't try this at home, school or anywhere else.
(Unless you think it would be really funny, of course -Susan.)
Please don't try this at home, school or anywhere else.
(Unless you think it would be really funny, of course -Susan.)
When queuing outside classrooms, since one is only allowed to enter when the teacher arrives and gives the OK, there tends to be a certain degree of pushing. Should there be pushing then the pushee may shout 'frot frot frot' or 'frotter' or 'oh goodie, frottage'.
BMX boys have a lot of fun,
sticking their handlbars up their bum.
This is true.
sticking their handlbars up their bum.
This is true.
Telling a bully that he is bullying you is one of the less effective way of stopping the bullying. You are most likely to get punched for the unnecessary commentary.
Employed with this exact effect by one Stuart Bywater, who perhaps believed the bully would look at his fist and say "God, and bullying's wrong, isn't it?" then become a fucking architect or something.
Employed with this exact effect by one Stuart Bywater, who perhaps believed the bully would look at his fist and say "God, and bullying's wrong, isn't it?" then become a fucking architect or something.
A Dildo Inserted Deeply Adds Stimulation. I was very proud of that one.
Taking the theme 'famous people' perhaps a little laterally, nine members of my school arrived at the sixth form Christmas party dressed as Klansmen and attempted to burn a six-foot crucifix in the quad. Only the fact that it wouldn't catch light prevented them as the teaching staff looked on in puzzled but benign indifference.
Hypothetical shop from which the really absurdly rotund female teachers get their dresses.
Bright sunlight. Teacher's eyes. Reflections from the watch glass. Interrogation simulation. Yum yum.
Verb: to parka
The act of swinging a smaller child by the fur-rimmed hood of their Lord Anthony parka until rippage, flight or boredom ensues.
More fun can be had by tying the parka's cords to the metal bars on the bus home, giving the wearer two choices - a new coat or an unplanned trip to town, missing Grange Hill.
The act of swinging a smaller child by the fur-rimmed hood of their Lord Anthony parka until rippage, flight or boredom ensues.
More fun can be had by tying the parka's cords to the metal bars on the bus home, giving the wearer two choices - a new coat or an unplanned trip to town, missing Grange Hill.
Once stuck in the mud, you could dive violently into the back of unpopular people’s legs and send them sprawling to the floor. Being technically still paralysed, they would have to rise to their feet and remain still, allowing you to do it again. And again.
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?
In junior school a boy called Darren showed me the Vulcan Hand Fanny. When I looked at it, I had no idea what it was supposed to be.
"It's a woman's dick," Darren explained enthusiastically.
"It's a woman's dick," Darren explained enthusiastically.
If you tried to charge more than 45p for your cups of tea the game would stop you doing it, explaining that "It's cheaper with British Rail".
An amusing way to spend a physics class. We all had to sit in the lab on stools that had small cushions on. These cushions were fastened to the stools with elastic, and they could be removed. In a moment of pure genius, one boy farted while sitting down, then got up, picked the cushion off the chair, walked behind the unpopular boy, and held the cushion to his face. This was the birth of the first fart transporting mechanism, and amused everyone for the remainder of the term.
And come on, who hasn't farted onto something and then smelt it out of curiosity?
And come on, who hasn't farted onto something and then smelt it out of curiosity?
Interesting how an assembly can be held on the issue of someone (me) shitting in a urinal without mentioning anything at all. For example...
"The cleaning ladies have complained about someone inappropriately using the facilities... and that the person responsible knows what we are talking about mean by that and I hopes it will not ever happen again, because measures will have to be taken if such an occurrence should repeat itself."
"The cleaning ladies have complained about someone inappropriately using the facilities... and that the person responsible knows what we are talking about mean by that and I hopes it will not ever happen again, because measures will have to be taken if such an occurrence should repeat itself."
At aged 10, I got to first touch a girl's private parts under the table in school. It was very sexy. I was ten, and she pulled down her knickers to her knees under her dress during art class. I used the classic "dropping a pencil" scam, and went under the table.
I am now 32, and I should probably get a new fantasy.
(Uncle Log advises : why not re-enact the fantasy with a current partner or prostitute, then have sex? You might have an erotic version of that thing where you hear half a song and it's stuck in your head until you hear the whole thing. An important footnote to this advice is that the re-enactment should NOT be with a 10 year old girl. Unless she's got lovely tits.)
I am now 32, and I should probably get a new fantasy.
(Uncle Log advises : why not re-enact the fantasy with a current partner or prostitute, then have sex? You might have an erotic version of that thing where you hear half a song and it's stuck in your head until you hear the whole thing. An important footnote to this advice is that the re-enactment should NOT be with a 10 year old girl. Unless she's got lovely tits.)
Is also known as a Dirty Sanchez. An alternative is to run the finger all round the mouth giving a poo goatee rather than just a poo tash. This is known as a Dirty Beppe, and is considerably more difficult to apply.
Inevitably there came a time when a teacher would ask the pupils to make a list of their names- with luck it was a supply teacher who didn't know who you all were and would then read the names out. In these cases, it always paid to have some handy rude spoonerism names to pad out the list. E.g.
Betty Swollocks
Paul Smeenis
Mary Hinge
Kelly Smunt
Joe Blobb
Tex Soy
Trevor Nyanalsecks etc.
Not to be confused with more direct humour of names like Mike Hunt, Hugh Jarse etc.
Betty Swollocks
Paul Smeenis
Mary Hinge
Kelly Smunt
Joe Blobb
Tex Soy
Trevor Nyanalsecks etc.
Not to be confused with more direct humour of names like Mike Hunt, Hugh Jarse etc.
"Would you suck a black man's willy for a banana?"
"No."
"Would you suck a black man's willy for TWO bananas?"
"No!"
"Well what WOULD you suck a black man's willy for, then?"
"Nothing!"
Hilarity will ensue, as assuredly as night follows day.
"No."
"Would you suck a black man's willy for TWO bananas?"
"No!"
"Well what WOULD you suck a black man's willy for, then?"
"Nothing!"
Hilarity will ensue, as assuredly as night follows day.
Also consistently staggering is the inappropriate naming of a child as Richard with certain surnames. Hare, Spray, Spring, Lovatt are just four of the ones I know, and that's not even counting the hilarious Jasper Carrott "Richard Dick aka Double Dick" routine. Yes, I know it's old stuff, but if it's good enough for King Carrott, it's good enough for The Law of the Fucking Playground.
Shinny the shoe was probably a nice kid but was never going to fit in because he had a briefcase, and even more unforgivably, shiny shoes. Word quickly spread that it was good luck to touch Shinny's briefcase and his shoes at the same time - but you must never speak to him during the act, as this would immediately undo the good fortune.
Shinny led a distraught and solitary life, and the nickname accompanied him into his early career. I like to think his personal accessory choices may have helped him along a bit in the real world of work, as some kind of compensation.
Shinny led a distraught and solitary life, and the nickname accompanied him into his early career. I like to think his personal accessory choices may have helped him along a bit in the real world of work, as some kind of compensation.
Spray the tips of your shoes for around twenty seconds with deodorant, light it, and kick random objects about - can and should include attempts at kicking fellow humans.
Very briefly became Fireball - the same principle as above but applied to an old Mitre football instead of one's footwear. Briefly, because people started getting hurt.
Very briefly became Fireball - the same principle as above but applied to an old Mitre football instead of one's footwear. Briefly, because people started getting hurt.
Making sure the board rubber was fully loaded, run up to someone, and start battering the baord rubber with your hand, or batter still, a second, fully loaded, board rubber, producing a cloud of chalk dust which would envelop the unfortunate victim. Skill (the kind in the English non medical dictionary) was required not to suffer blowback.
If blowback does occur, however, take advantage of the situation and have a cartoon fight, in which spectators will only see the occasional arm or leg coming out of the dust cloud as you shout "Ooyah!" and "Take that!"
If blowback does occur, however, take advantage of the situation and have a cartoon fight, in which spectators will only see the occasional arm or leg coming out of the dust cloud as you shout "Ooyah!" and "Take that!"
When deciding which library book to take out from the school library, simply hold the book by the covers, and turn it upside down. The 'well thumbed' pages, containing either breasts or imaginative death, would fall apart.
More pages breaks mean more racy passages, which you can then learn and mumble under your breath instead of saying the Lord's Prayer in Assembly.
More pages breaks mean more racy passages, which you can then learn and mumble under your breath instead of saying the Lord's Prayer in Assembly.
Then you can do it backwards, and in your dad's apartment...
sex all day in dad's apartment
sex all day in dad's apartment
after diarrhoea I detest anal sex... whether as giver or receiver is left to the imagination.
Actually, at our school, the question "what does a ship do when it arrives at the harbour?" was followed by the questioner immediately shouting "Ties up!" (while flicking the victim's tie up into their face) and "anchors down" (while stamping on their foot).
Saves all that fucking about dropping your trousers and trying to take a shit so fast the person doesn't have a chance to take a single step back and tell everyone you're being a full-blown bronno.
Saves all that fucking about dropping your trousers and trying to take a shit so fast the person doesn't have a chance to take a single step back and tell everyone you're being a full-blown bronno.
When playing Battleships in study period, under the tolerant eye of a female teacher, be sure to report unlucky guesses with a plaintive "Miss...", thus ensuring that she constantly has to look up from her work.
A unit or activity of hard work. When a classmate exerts more than the accepted 'minimum effort' in the classroom, mime the motion of spooning a substance out of a container. This substance is "effort" - feel free to say "eff-ort" whilst spooning.
For extreme cases, imitating a JCB operator or the motion of the Channel tunnel excavator is required.
For extreme cases, imitating a JCB operator or the motion of the Channel tunnel excavator is required.
Hold out your palm and tell someone that you have a three inch man standing there. Ask them to tap the man on the head. Then ask them to shake his little hand. Then ask them to close their eyes and poke the man up his little arse. At this point you quickly place your pursed lips where the man's arse would be, so your friend sticks his finger in your puckered, wet arsemouth.
At this point, your friend will probably open their eyes, as they weren't expecting the little invisible man to have a tangibly wet anus. You will be looking up to see their reaction, pretty much like a dog. It's difficult to know who's in the most undignified position, really.
At this point, your friend will probably open their eyes, as they weren't expecting the little invisible man to have a tangibly wet anus. You will be looking up to see their reaction, pretty much like a dog. It's difficult to know who's in the most undignified position, really.
When you fart, you say 'Texas'. If someone else farts and you say 'Sixer' before they say 'Texas', you're allowed to give them six dead arms without fear of reprisal. Though you probably won't want to do so straight away, what with the cloud of their eggy banner still mushrooming from their backside.
Homer said this on an episode of The Simpsons. Your fame's spreading, buddy!
Kim Charnley (brain-box, future head boy) arrived for rugby without his shorts, and berating his mum for not packing them, was told to get some from the gyppo box. Only one pair was in there, and they were covered in what looked to be excrement. Disgusted, Kim exclaimed "Uggh someones shat in their shorts and I've got to wear them", while the rest of the changing room jeered and hollared as only teenage boys can, but we all fell silent as he announced excitedly that there was a nametag stitched into them. The air was thick with anticipation, the imagined short-soiler was about to be named and shamed! Imagine the fuel for taunting this would provide. Suddenly Kim's face fell as he realised why his mother hadn't packed his shorts: "fuck, they're mine"
Same idea as Ottoman's, but we'd first start with "joe-a", "joe-b" etc. Happless victim ends up with "joe-e". After much laughter and pointing, we'd move on to round 2 - "a-con" etc. The victim usually half cottoned on, so your mates'd leave a slight pause after "c-con". Victim usually jumped at chance of getting in early (or so they thought) to beat mate no 5 and shouts "d-con". Double the laughter and pointing.
There was a kid at primary school who claimed that he dreamt that he was eating a giant marshmallow and when he woke up, he had eaten his pillow.
I didn't know that this was a widely-known joke until recently when I was perusing a children's joke book.
I didn't know that this was a widely-known joke until recently when I was perusing a children's joke book.
By far the most amusing use of a punctured football is to form it into a bowl shape, place it on your head and strut round the playground, hilariously pretending to be bald.
Marcus Smith and his group in the drama class were supposed to mime an occupation. When the first three members began to mime wiping their arses with their hands and smearing it on the walls the teacher intervened. Marcus pleaded successfully for patience, whereupon he and the remaining members of the little group entered the tableaux as (ta-da!) "the men who spray down the cell walls during prison 'dirty protests'".
I had a maths teacher who wore a t-shirt with a picture of a t-shirt on it, and that pictured t-shirt had a picture of a t-shirt on, and so on.
Pupils who had seen the Twilight Zone lived in constant fear of turning their head around quickly enough to see a huge version of themselves looking down at them.
Pupils who had seen the Twilight Zone lived in constant fear of turning their head around quickly enough to see a huge version of themselves looking down at them.
If the tupperware is tinged orange from some contact with tomatoes many years ago, then yes, I'm afraid it's bad.
Skinny banana long legs with webbed feet,
Went to the pictures and couldn't find a seat,
When the pictures started everybody farted,
Skinny banana long legs with webbed feet.
But what happened next? I'm not sure if I'd have stopped and watched the film. Not standing up.
Went to the pictures and couldn't find a seat,
When the pictures started everybody farted,
Skinny banana long legs with webbed feet.
But what happened next? I'm not sure if I'd have stopped and watched the film. Not standing up.
Our Biology teacher, when confronted by yet another gem of witticism from me and my friends, responded with the words 'what's wrong with you Olifant, did you have too many comedy biscuits this morning?'
This phrase has become legendary.
This phrase has become legendary.
Oh, but those things DID have a name. They were called 'cootie-catchers'.
And yes, I owned a mood ring, but it was a GIFT.
And yes, I owned a mood ring, but it was a GIFT.
Also available as an adjective, scopey.
Sorry to be a spoil sport, but for god's sake, can't you see that this is clearly a made-up story? Blasting cap cherry bombs? Six cans of whipped cream? And the clincher - the fake gun, like in a bad comedy movie, with a flag that unfurls with a message on it? And think about the mechanics of setting that up compared to the mechanics they teach in science class. And then think about the force required to hurl six cans of cream into the hallway and cause them to burst. And then think about the mental agility of someone who incorrectly writes the phrase "your gay" on a flag, instead of "you're gay". Then put it all together, and you'll come to the conclusion that this is nothing more than a really poor lie.
Can't you pay more attention to the posts here? I was about to complain about the post about hitting the frog on the back with a hammer, but I refrained. (Think about that one - surely the frog would have moved with people approaching it, and even it not, where the hell did the kid get a 'claw hammer' from at that particular moment?)
While this site used to be the Financial Times of playground law encyclopaedias on the web, it's fast turning into The Sun.
Sometimes, even the clearly made-up has merit. Prisoner Cell Block H was "made up" but we all enjoyed it. What we enjoy even more though, is when readers get as bitter, angry and fuming at submissions as we do. We’ve dragged you to our level and we love it. Point taken, though, and well made too. Marvellous. xxx
Can't you pay more attention to the posts here? I was about to complain about the post about hitting the frog on the back with a hammer, but I refrained. (Think about that one - surely the frog would have moved with people approaching it, and even it not, where the hell did the kid get a 'claw hammer' from at that particular moment?)
While this site used to be the Financial Times of playground law encyclopaedias on the web, it's fast turning into The Sun.
Sometimes, even the clearly made-up has merit. Prisoner Cell Block H was "made up" but we all enjoyed it. What we enjoy even more though, is when readers get as bitter, angry and fuming at submissions as we do. We’ve dragged you to our level and we love it. Point taken, though, and well made too. Marvellous. xxx
Surely that should be Turdis?
It's very possible to hit the ceiling. I saw someone do it once and thought it so incredible that I tried to emulate the technique myself. However, from where I was standing, it looked like he had held his foreskin shut, before letting a thin jet of extra high pressure piss shoot to the ceiling. I tried this, and it ended up filling up rather too rapidly for control, then I released my fingers a little too much and the whole 'balloon' of piss emptied over my shoes.
The point I was missing? You grip the actual end of the cock itself, pinching the piss hole half shut so that it's really small. Then start the flow, and you'll have a fantastically long-reaching stream. Great for standing at one urinal and pissing sideways into one that's about two or three down.
The point I was missing? You grip the actual end of the cock itself, pinching the piss hole half shut so that it's really small. Then start the flow, and you'll have a fantastically long-reaching stream. Great for standing at one urinal and pissing sideways into one that's about two or three down.
Take a Jammy Dodger biscuit, put it on the edge of the table, whip out your dick, and take a polaroid of your member touching the biscuit.
Warning. This will not work with a regular camera because the lab will call the police and you will be arrested for fucking a nostalgic biscuit.
Take a packet of Jammy Dodgers into school. Offer them around, with assurance that they haven't been spat on. The second the biscuit is in their mouth, show them the Polaroid.
The photo is good for around three packets of Jammy Dodgers before word gets around that it's a joke. Or that you're the guy who puts his dick on Jammy Dodgers.
Warning. This will not work with a regular camera because the lab will call the police and you will be arrested for fucking a nostalgic biscuit.
Take a packet of Jammy Dodgers into school. Offer them around, with assurance that they haven't been spat on. The second the biscuit is in their mouth, show them the Polaroid.
The photo is good for around three packets of Jammy Dodgers before word gets around that it's a joke. Or that you're the guy who puts his dick on Jammy Dodgers.
In my early school days we had a quite famous rhyme:
"Winnetou der Weise spricht:
Laute Forze stinken nicht,
aber die leisen,
die um das Arschloch kreisen,
vor ihnen hüte dich,
denn sie stinken fürchterlich"
For the non-german-speaking, here is a rough translation:
"Winnetou the wise says:
Loud farts don't stink,
but beware of the silent ones,
that circle around the arsehole,
for they smell terrible."
Winnetou was a native-american character from the popular cowboy and indian stories written by Karl May.
"Winnetou der Weise spricht:
Laute Forze stinken nicht,
aber die leisen,
die um das Arschloch kreisen,
vor ihnen hüte dich,
denn sie stinken fürchterlich"
For the non-german-speaking, here is a rough translation:
"Winnetou the wise says:
Loud farts don't stink,
but beware of the silent ones,
that circle around the arsehole,
for they smell terrible."
Winnetou was a native-american character from the popular cowboy and indian stories written by Karl May.
Damn. An autistic friend and I thought of this name for a device, too, but in our case "Retardis" was the name of a machine which harnessed the unpredictability of retards to travel through time.
Susan's joke reminds me of another joke. A man called Mr. Bigtittedladytocomeroundandblowall-Thefactoryworkers (he was posh, hence the double-barrelled name. He had fallen on hard times, hence working at a factory despite being posh enough to have a double-barrelled name) starts work at a factory. His wife rings up to speak to him and says to the foreman "Do you have a Bigtittedladytocomeroundandblowall-Thefactoryworkers there?"
The foreman replies "No we don't. The closest we've got is Maude the tea-lady, who's a bit of a slag, but never with me, the bitch."
It was told to me by my friend Billy Yourjokeisthemostcontrivedjokei'veeverheardanditsucksspackers'herpesoffaspork. We used to tease him about having apostrophes in his name, but he insisted it was how his name was spelled. We drove him to suicide. Grrrrrreat days.
The foreman replies "No we don't. The closest we've got is Maude the tea-lady, who's a bit of a slag, but never with me, the bitch."
It was told to me by my friend Billy Yourjokeisthemostcontrivedjokei'veeverheardanditsucksspackers'herpesoffaspork. We used to tease him about having apostrophes in his name, but he insisted it was how his name was spelled. We drove him to suicide. Grrrrrreat days.
'jewish flick' - another semitic footballing term. This refers to an attempt to control a ball that is behind you by bending your knee and raising your foot to around arse-height. Almost always unsuccessful.
Popular in the playgrounds of North London, hence the name, which is consequently not actually anti-Semitic. Consequently, not actually that funny.
Popular in the playgrounds of North London, hence the name, which is consequently not actually anti-Semitic. Consequently, not actually that funny.
I'd gladly do so, Susan, but I keep forgetting my damn password.
A book graffiti campaign was launched to free Deidre Rachid - a fictional character wrongly - but fictionally - imprisoned in a (fictitious) jail.
The best one featured a young child praying to god, with the caption "Please sir, free Deidre" crudely inserted in a speech-bubble above his head.
We like to think our little campaign in some way influenced the decision of the Coronation Street writers to release the chicken-necked cunt.
The best one featured a young child praying to god, with the caption "Please sir, free Deidre" crudely inserted in a speech-bubble above his head.
We like to think our little campaign in some way influenced the decision of the Coronation Street writers to release the chicken-necked cunt.
>> pick up magic wand
I do not know how to "pick up magic wand"
>>fuck right off
I do not know how to "fuck right off"
I do not know how to "pick up magic wand"
>>fuck right off
I do not know how to "fuck right off"
The story of a similar "gay tray" also occurred at my school. I attend a school which is subject to more riducule and steroetyping in regards to gay jokes. My school is a ballet school where we study the art of ballet. Unluckily for us we are steroetyped to be gay. Some are gay but of the most part male ballet dancers are not gay. The relevence of the gay tray is the fact that our cafeteria in our residence has ALL blue or green plastic plates and clear cups. However ther is one Pink coloured plate and one pink cup. These items are known as the "gay set" and whoever takes them it thought to have "caught gay" (which of course is contagious) and whoever touches this gay person is said to have caught gay, and so on it goes.
A joke my friend made up:
Q: What do you call 7 gay guys at the bar(re)? A: Ballet class
A joke my friend made up:
Q: What do you call 7 gay guys at the bar(re)? A: Ballet class
Mrs. Fenton (openly nicknamed "Jabba the Slut") was emboldened by the optimism that a bright sunny day can bring. Her mind full of possibilities, she walked out of a two-hour lesson around half-way through, and never returned.
We had outside toilets with no roof at my primary school. John Climie was to be able to piss over the wall (must've been 9 feet high), with a whip like flick of the hips. We'd come out and see kids looking skywards, holding their palms upwards, checking for rain.
Craig Eady shouted this at our art teacher while standing approximately six inches behind him.
Sir's reaction proved that he was entirely, or at least partially, deaf.
Sir's reaction proved that he was entirely, or at least partially, deaf.
Really? Gosh. Whilst I appreciate the offer of sex, I'm deeply in love with someone else. If you have nice tits, I'll accept a picture, but that's as far as I'm willing to go.
Dear Uncle Log:
Disturbed by my own perversion, I took your advice and decided to act out this fantasy with my wife. We went to a restaurant, and I asked her to pull her knickers down to mid-thigh, then I 'dropped' my fork and bent down to take a quick look. It was quite disappointing in how little a turn on it was. So now I'm cured, and have moved on to another fantasy, this time involving a healthy middle aged woman.
Love, The Poster who Posted the Above Post.
Disturbed by my own perversion, I took your advice and decided to act out this fantasy with my wife. We went to a restaurant, and I asked her to pull her knickers down to mid-thigh, then I 'dropped' my fork and bent down to take a quick look. It was quite disappointing in how little a turn on it was. So now I'm cured, and have moved on to another fantasy, this time involving a healthy middle aged woman.
Love, The Poster who Posted the Above Post.
French Jinx
I have it from a very reliable source that when a jinx arises in french playgrounds they say "you shall be cuckolded before I".
Nobody wants to be cuckolded - not because it's the fearsome prospect of being married to an unfaithful wife; more because it sounds like it's got "cock" and "hole" in it, and is therefore referring to the fearsome prospect of your unfaithful mum.
I have it from a very reliable source that when a jinx arises in french playgrounds they say "you shall be cuckolded before I".
Nobody wants to be cuckolded - not because it's the fearsome prospect of being married to an unfaithful wife; more because it sounds like it's got "cock" and "hole" in it, and is therefore referring to the fearsome prospect of your unfaithful mum.
If you tell anyone that you like Pink Floyd in year eight, you will be singled out as a bender.
When Mr Craig asks you to 'parse' part of a Latin sentence, you must reply with this answer. Mr Craig will then mutter "Oh, God" and put his head in his hands before weeping quietly.
Also the amount of time required to shag Jenny Evans 'round the back of the sportshall after school.
Maybe they provided the biscuit.
It's spelt, 'inappropriate', by the way.
We know. It's, um, ironic. Oh piss off you KEENER.
We know. It's, um, ironic. Oh piss off you KEENER.
Well, it's only partly true. Dickon got the crown, not the horn.
It may not sound like a good idea, but when I did it, nothing happened. Probably because, living in Bromley, there were no gangsters.
At nine years old, word reached our rural primary school of the existence of amazing characters called 'Jews'. David Nichol explained: they looked just like you and me - the only difference being that if you threw a penny at them, they would pick it up.
Word got around about these Jews, in utter isolation from reality. Those two worlds colliding during a Nativity service, when James Dunlop read from the New Testament. He managed to finish 'he shall be King of the Jews' before collapsing into laughter, along with the angels and choir.
Word got around about these Jews, in utter isolation from reality. Those two worlds colliding during a Nativity service, when James Dunlop read from the New Testament. He managed to finish 'he shall be King of the Jews' before collapsing into laughter, along with the angels and choir.
Walking home from school with your mates? Found a nice, fresh dog poo? The conditions are perfect, so why not play the Poo Game?
Stand face to face with your mate, the poo between you, and link hands over the poo in a soldier's grip. The name of the game is to push and pull your mate until he steps in the poo.
Simple, effective, entertaining. Best practiced when your mate is wearing new shoes with good, deep treads.
Stand face to face with your mate, the poo between you, and link hands over the poo in a soldier's grip. The name of the game is to push and pull your mate until he steps in the poo.
Simple, effective, entertaining. Best practiced when your mate is wearing new shoes with good, deep treads.
If you've found a dog poo on the way home from school, but are bored of the Poo Game", why not go solo and bedazzle your friends with a flamboyant "poo dance"?
Based on the (pooless) Scottish sword dance, the protagonist cavorts above the poo to the strains of a pretend bagpipe. Points are awarded for technical complexity and how close the Clarks goes to the poo without touching it.
The game ends when the Dancer either stands in the poo or gets bored and, if it is a dry poo, kicks it at a spectator.
Based on the (pooless) Scottish sword dance, the protagonist cavorts above the poo to the strains of a pretend bagpipe. Points are awarded for technical complexity and how close the Clarks goes to the poo without touching it.
The game ends when the Dancer either stands in the poo or gets bored and, if it is a dry poo, kicks it at a spectator.
I had the same misinterpretation for several years. The source: my older sister's 70's "horror" book "Flowers in the Attic". On the mostly-black front cover there was the cheery tag-line: "Kidnapped, Raped, Murdered". Beneath this there was a picture of some bloody scissors which, I presumed at the time, were used for raping.
I used to think that as well, but Telephone are in fact not even slightly fictional.
I know this because when some friends of mine went on a French exchange trip, two of the first questions they got asked by the French kids were "ecoutez-vous le musique 'Hard Rock'?" and then "ecoutez-vous la groupe 'Telephone'?".
See them on Amazon here
Apparently Telephone are pretty crap, which is surprising, considering they're a hard rock band called Telephone.
I know this because when some friends of mine went on a French exchange trip, two of the first questions they got asked by the French kids were "ecoutez-vous le musique 'Hard Rock'?" and then "ecoutez-vous la groupe 'Telephone'?".
See them on Amazon here
Apparently Telephone are pretty crap, which is surprising, considering they're a hard rock band called Telephone.
MC Hammer sounds a bit like MC Spanner. This was combined with "Wanking Spanners" to make MC Spanner a term for wanker.
Fairly basic, but always a pleasure to see someone interrupt a conversation with - Stop - Spanner Time - then mime wanking for a while.
Fairly basic, but always a pleasure to see someone interrupt a conversation with - Stop - Spanner Time - then mime wanking for a while.
In the long lost valley of the arses,
by the sign of the Swinging Tit,
There Hu-Flung-Dung was murdered,
by his brother Hu-Flung-Shit.
This was printed on a bus stop outside our school. My big brother's mate conceived her first child in that bus stop. Awwww!
by the sign of the Swinging Tit,
There Hu-Flung-Dung was murdered,
by his brother Hu-Flung-Shit.
This was printed on a bus stop outside our school. My big brother's mate conceived her first child in that bus stop. Awwww!
In certain circles (such as the US Military), B.C.G. stands for birth control glasses, referring to the thick lensed and framed specs that could prevent most anybody from being pulled. Nerd Glasses.
The Leo's Log story reminds me of 'The Mummy'. The Mummy was a legendarily large poo that my friend laid in the toilet at school. Being at a private school, we were well trained in flushing the toilet after using it, so the thought of leaving the turd in the bowl for all to see was disgusting to him. And rightly so, for who but the most filthy comprehensive school pupils would not flush a toilet?
Since the turd had a good six inches protruding from the water, he wrapped his hand liberally with toilet paper, reached in, and rescued it. He wrapped it up in reams of toilet paper and smuggled it out to the playground.
He then proceeded to show us what at first glance could have been a baby mummy snatched straight out of the Egyptian Room at the British Museum. But no, to our even greater delight, he unravelled the wrapping to reveal a firm, long, and generally mammoth turd.
Since the turd had a good six inches protruding from the water, he wrapped his hand liberally with toilet paper, reached in, and rescued it. He wrapped it up in reams of toilet paper and smuggled it out to the playground.
He then proceeded to show us what at first glance could have been a baby mummy snatched straight out of the Egyptian Room at the British Museum. But no, to our even greater delight, he unravelled the wrapping to reveal a firm, long, and generally mammoth turd.
An effeminate Adrian. Also known as Aidsdrian.
There's every chance that we did know what our woodwork teacher meant, when he said "pack it in or i'll stick my size nine up your backsides". There's a considerable possibility that we knew he meant his shoe, in a non-penetrative sense.
But we never let him know that.
But we never let him know that.
To some teachers, a good excuse for being half an hour late for a lesson. Trialled by Matthew Kelly (not the), this excuse was audacious enough to make most of the classroom laugh. The supply teacher took grave offence, and lectured the class on the merits of a career in percussion, and that artistic musical instincts should be encouraged, not mocked.
Dim. Bint.
Dim. Bint.
The time-honoured 'giving somebody a sweet that has previously been inserted in your arse' trick had become so tired, that no one would ever accept a sweet from our gang. Then one day, we came up with this variation.
The boiled sweet was passed around a group of about nine of us, all of whom rubbed it around inside our cracks before it was carefully rewrapped. The next person that walked into the room was subsequently invited to participate in a beautifully choreographed game of 'scrambles'.
Havoc followed and the sweet changed hands many times before the victim finally emerged triumphant, and with a bummy, shit-flavoured sweet in his mouth. He genuinely believed that we wanted that sweet - I still remember the look of pride on his face at having won.
The boiled sweet was passed around a group of about nine of us, all of whom rubbed it around inside our cracks before it was carefully rewrapped. The next person that walked into the room was subsequently invited to participate in a beautifully choreographed game of 'scrambles'.
Havoc followed and the sweet changed hands many times before the victim finally emerged triumphant, and with a bummy, shit-flavoured sweet in his mouth. He genuinely believed that we wanted that sweet - I still remember the look of pride on his face at having won.
It was considered 'gay' to touch the arse of a girl (or boy) when I was a youngster, because gayness meant a fondness of bumholes to us ten year olds. It was much later that we learned that heterosexual anal sex was most certainly not gay. If it was, then my wife's newfound love of the exhaust pipe would make me more of a homo than a sickening composite of Quentin Crisp's lips with Graham Norton's hair.
Alternatively, you hetero back-sporkers are just closet homos, and simply aren't MAN enough to admit that they are sur l'autre autobus. Always stick with your first answer, faggot. - Mansh
Alternatively, you hetero back-sporkers are just closet homos, and simply aren't MAN enough to admit that they are sur l'autre autobus. Always stick with your first answer, faggot. - Mansh
The fact that "plastic" rhymes with "spastic" led to some speculation that Scopers were made out of the stuff.
Half a pound of nuts and bolts,
Half a pound of plastic.
Stick them in the washing machine,
Out pops a spastic!
The single redeeming feature of this rhyme is the jubilant bursting out of the washing machine by the freshly manufactured spastic. You could almost imagine him with a rose between his teeth and jazz hands.
Half a pound of nuts and bolts,
Half a pound of plastic.
Stick them in the washing machine,
Out pops a spastic!
The single redeeming feature of this rhyme is the jubilant bursting out of the washing machine by the freshly manufactured spastic. You could almost imagine him with a rose between his teeth and jazz hands.
A similar game to kippering is the game of 'Aaaaah'! To win a round of Aaaah, simply get someone to correct a blatantly false statement. For example;
A and B are listenind to the radio. Wham!'s hit single Careless Whisper begins playing.
A : I hate Adam and the Ants
B : This isn't Adam and...
A : Aaaaah!
Annoying yet rewarding, even as a 28 year old.
A and B are listenind to the radio. Wham!'s hit single Careless Whisper begins playing.
A : I hate Adam and the Ants
B : This isn't Adam and...
A : Aaaaah!
Annoying yet rewarding, even as a 28 year old.
I must have attended the only nice person's school in the country. The worst bullying ever that I can remember was that there was a fat girl who didn't get much sun and was rather pale. She also had very pale hair. She was like a self-imposed albino. We used to call her 'Moomim' because she kind of looked like one of those cute hippo-like creatures on TV at the time.
Had she attended one of your schools, she'd have been called 'Albino Cunt Bitch', repeatedly abused to the verge of mass rape, then exposed to some kind of (dog) poo-related activity that you're all so fond of.
Readers! Have you had surgery that has replaced your real memories with birdsong and rainbows? If so, please use this entry to tell us your heartwarming tales of calling fat kids Mr Healthy Appetite, and calling the effeminate kid Captain Diversity. We'd love to hear how idyllic life was for you. - Log
Had she attended one of your schools, she'd have been called 'Albino Cunt Bitch', repeatedly abused to the verge of mass rape, then exposed to some kind of (dog) poo-related activity that you're all so fond of.
Readers! Have you had surgery that has replaced your real memories with birdsong and rainbows? If so, please use this entry to tell us your heartwarming tales of calling fat kids Mr Healthy Appetite, and calling the effeminate kid Captain Diversity. We'd love to hear how idyllic life was for you. - Log
In Upper Sixth, our form-tutor noticed a boy called Gideon, who happened through no fault of his own to be Jewish, fiddling absentmindedly with some lab apparatus. To a shocked classroom, he called out "Stop that, you thieving little Jewboy."
From then on, that teacher was owned.
From then on, that teacher was owned.
A randomly detemined day in which everything you say means the opposite. For example, if you denied that you were madly in love with Alex, who smelt of poo, your friend could then laugh and say "Haha, it's actually opposite day, so you just said you love Alex!" and then run off to tell the whole playground.
The problem with this was that by saying "It's opposite day" on opposite day, you were actually saying that it WASN'T opposite day. This, however, was entirely beyond our 9-year-old minds, who really just wanted an excuse to tell the entire school that you loved Alex.
The problem with this was that by saying "It's opposite day" on opposite day, you were actually saying that it WASN'T opposite day. This, however, was entirely beyond our 9-year-old minds, who really just wanted an excuse to tell the entire school that you loved Alex.
My friend's name was Clint Walker. You've probably already guessed, but with a couple of quick pen strokes, you have Cunt Wanker.
Every school year was a dash to steal his books from his bag, administer these pen strokes, then politely return the books.
Every school year was a dash to steal his books from his bag, administer these pen strokes, then politely return the books.
AIDS can also stand for....
"Adios, Infected Dick Sucker!" Chuck in a Speedy Gonzales impersonation and you're away.
"Adios, Infected Dick Sucker!" Chuck in a Speedy Gonzales impersonation and you're away.
Gerard Big Head had a big head. During a school trip to Chester Zoo he took his shoes and socks off and jumped in the carp pool to collect all the copper.
As well as strobe lights and computer games, pencil cases may cause eppie fits. In particular, when thrown with precision at a sufferer's head.
Norman McCaig was a scottish poet who so impressed us with his poetry and name that we rechristened him Nurmin MacQuaggey and recorded his adventures in cartoon form as the Norman McCaig Saga.
This three-part epic featured Norman meeting someone and saying "I am the poet McCaig", before receiving pieces of sage advice.
His three oracles were a man with a large hammer, Yoda and the Jewish Cheese Man. Jewish Cheese Man regularly appeared in our workbook defacing, and had a book of Norman's poetry hidden in his large cossack-style hat.
This three-part epic featured Norman meeting someone and saying "I am the poet McCaig", before receiving pieces of sage advice.
His three oracles were a man with a large hammer, Yoda and the Jewish Cheese Man. Jewish Cheese Man regularly appeared in our workbook defacing, and had a book of Norman's poetry hidden in his large cossack-style hat.
Actually, a dubbins is an old term for a wank used by prozzies in days gone by. As in, "It's a shilling for a dubbins, half a crown for a suck and a sovereign for all the way."
I managed to use the online love calculator to work out that I apparently love my ex girlfriend 99%, ie. more than I'll ever love anyone else.
Has anyone else had a similarly depressing experience, such as finding their name on a gravestone with 1974-TOMORROW written underneath?
Has anyone else had a similarly depressing experience, such as finding their name on a gravestone with 1974-TOMORROW written underneath?
If anyone is queer and gay enough to ask you what time it was (the stinking pooves), the proper response was to look at your bare wrist and inform the aforementioned cock-fairy that it was,
Half past the monkey's ass, and a Quarter to his balls.
Honestly, where do these gaymosexuals get off?
Half past the monkey's ass, and a Quarter to his balls.
Honestly, where do these gaymosexuals get off?
If you want a bunch of crap hackneyed jokes to fill your website why don't you just buy the FHM pub joke book and copy out the entire thing putting the word "teacher" in where appropriate. The child in this story is even called Leroy for fucks sake! Whats happened to the editing of this site? Remove this bucket of shit story now and ban whoever submitted this story as an example of what hapens to lying dick-faced asshole turds.
Phil: anonymous user, you make a compelling argument. I am afraid to admit that I was the foolish editor who allowed this one through, though in my defence I was pissed at the time.
Phil: anonymous user, you make a compelling argument. I am afraid to admit that I was the foolish editor who allowed this one through, though in my defence I was pissed at the time.
But bizarrely, not the letters n and t.
It's spelled 'spelled' by the way. Irony in a basket.
The Polo Challenge can be adapted to form the Fisherman's Friend Supermatch Game. One Fisherman's Friend is pretty hot, and will clear out your sinusses. Three or four, and you'll be batting the back of your head and weeping steam. Put the whole pack in your mouth, and a curious anaesthesia will take you, and your mouth will puddle with spicy drool. Racing to eat the Fisherman's Friends in this state will result in you biting your own mouth to shreds, numb and oblivious to the trauma you are causing to gob and tooth.
As played by a rosy-cheeked, spangly-chompered teenage Shane McGowan.
As played by a rosy-cheeked, spangly-chompered teenage Shane McGowan.
And America's middle-east policy.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Rory Bremner has left the building.
Ladies and Gentlemen, Rory Bremner has left the building.
Calling somebody a test tube baby is a great insult; because as well as suggesting that they haven't got a mum, it also proves that their dad likes going to the hospital and wanking into a dirty cup for 5p.
a: "Can you climb up glass?"
b: "No."
a: "Then how did you get out of your test tube? - Is your star sign 'Pyrex'?"
a: "Can you climb up glass?"
b: "No."
a: "Then how did you get out of your test tube? - Is your star sign 'Pyrex'?"
Used as a way of protecting yourself from girl germs, boy germs, David germs, etc. Simply clutch the area that comes into contact with a boy, girl, or David, and shout germlock!.
Leave it too late and you might accidentally lock the germs into the affected area, so be careful.
Leave it too late and you might accidentally lock the germs into the affected area, so be careful.
On cold frosty mornings poo found on the pavement could be more fearlessly kicked at passers by, safe in the knowledge that only the freshest, steamiest of bobs would not be frozen solid. Sadly the impact on the target is less impressive thanks to the very same splat-failure.
Life is a compromise.
Life is a compromise.
Our cupboard-bound RE teacher was heard muttering something about strawberry 'Opal Fruits'. I suppose we all have our individual preoccupations.
Actually, there was loads more to it than that just spunk bubbles like a black man's toothpaste;
Let me tell you a story 'bout a man named Jed,
Couldn't find a toilet so he went behind a shed,
Couldn't find the bogroll so he used a bit of grass,Up popped Ellie May and shot him in the ass.
Next thing you know old Jed's in bed,
Wanking himself till his balls turned red,
erm, can't remember the rest rumtitum...
Next thing you know old Jed's a millionaire,
Selling condoms at 2p a pair,
2p, 4p, even two bob,
It all depends on the size of your knob.
Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen.
Let me tell you a story 'bout a man named Jed,
Couldn't find a toilet so he went behind a shed,
Couldn't find the bogroll so he used a bit of grass,Up popped Ellie May and shot him in the ass.
Next thing you know old Jed's in bed,
Wanking himself till his balls turned red,
erm, can't remember the rest rumtitum...
Next thing you know old Jed's a millionaire,
Selling condoms at 2p a pair,
2p, 4p, even two bob,
It all depends on the size of your knob.
Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen.
Here follows a counterpoint to the complaints we have received regarding this submission. Obviously, this person is not a spokesperson for the entire disabled community, and as this is the internet, we don't know if they even "really are" a disabled (there may be a give-away in the use of the phrase "step down from my soapbox"*) but they do make an interesting point.
*Oh what a shit joke. Sorry. Um, I only put it in to "test" you. Please don't run over my hands with your wheelchair, if you are one of the wheelchair ones. Xx
Excellent story Ian. As a disabled person nothing angers me more than do-gooders moaning about stories like these. It's hangovers like them that make decisions like having children in wheelchairs pushed at speed on running tracks.
If something is funny and it happened, that's life, live with it, it's the PC society that has been created today by moaning, do-gooder muppets that makes living in the UK today like living in a totalitarian state. Shut your faces and let people live their lives and laugh, life's too f*****g short.
I now step down from my soapbox.
*Oh what a shit joke. Sorry. Um, I only put it in to "test" you. Please don't run over my hands with your wheelchair, if you are one of the wheelchair ones. Xx
Excellent story Ian. As a disabled person nothing angers me more than do-gooders moaning about stories like these. It's hangovers like them that make decisions like having children in wheelchairs pushed at speed on running tracks.
If something is funny and it happened, that's life, live with it, it's the PC society that has been created today by moaning, do-gooder muppets that makes living in the UK today like living in a totalitarian state. Shut your faces and let people live their lives and laugh, life's too f*****g short.
I now step down from my soapbox.
A fairly rare second year pastime, which involved staring 'longingly' at the subject of ridicule during lessons.
When they turned to look back, you'd sharply look away, and busy yourself with your work, perhaps putting the finishing touches to a pencil sketch of your victim.
This is continued throughout the lesson, until the victim is either irritated to fuck, or harbouring his first nervous hopes of love.
For instance, Graham Matthews always reacted with this game with a genderbending cocktail of embarressment, anger and curiosity.
Pretending to be gay outed him to all.
When they turned to look back, you'd sharply look away, and busy yourself with your work, perhaps putting the finishing touches to a pencil sketch of your victim.
This is continued throughout the lesson, until the victim is either irritated to fuck, or harbouring his first nervous hopes of love.
For instance, Graham Matthews always reacted with this game with a genderbending cocktail of embarressment, anger and curiosity.
Pretending to be gay outed him to all.
Also; piece of lavatory paper.
Putting a banger in a dog poo is all very well, but it isn't playing with the life of another living thing.
- Place a banger in the path of a large black slug.
- Wait until the slug gets close. Move the banger if the slug changes direction.
- Light the banger.
- Watch the slugs antennae spring up in terror, as it realises what is happening.
- Run backwards as the slug strains to do a 180.
- Try to find traces of big black slug in the surrounding area for the proper, respectful burial.
In years seven to nine, there was a persistent rumour that you shouldn't touch the toilet doorknobs with your bare hands because people pissed on them.
While it was true that the doorknobs were always wet, and that in a world where children shit up walls and in hats, it wasn't inconceivable that disturbed children would stand there and piss directly onto the doorknob, I still feel that it had more to do with the broken hand driers.
While it was true that the doorknobs were always wet, and that in a world where children shit up walls and in hats, it wasn't inconceivable that disturbed children would stand there and piss directly onto the doorknob, I still feel that it had more to do with the broken hand driers.
And the non-boarding school version: quizzing a sweet after sticking it up your bum.
(WHAT? What are you talking about, anonymous user? Why would you quiz a sweet after sticking it up your bum?
"Why were you up my bum, sweet?"
You put it there, you buffoon/'nana!
Not to mention that egginess doesn't apply to things actually being up your bum. That's sulphurous farts, not shit-smeared Swizzle Sticks you've had jammed up your ring. Leave this website immediately. If you haven't already left it in the nine months since you posted this entry. Sorry!
(WHAT? What are you talking about, anonymous user? Why would you quiz a sweet after sticking it up your bum?
"Why were you up my bum, sweet?"
You put it there, you buffoon/'nana!
Not to mention that egginess doesn't apply to things actually being up your bum. That's sulphurous farts, not shit-smeared Swizzle Sticks you've had jammed up your ring. Leave this website immediately. If you haven't already left it in the nine months since you posted this entry. Sorry!
is this funny with my addition of a tips pages walkthrough?
no it's not
fuck you I'm approving it anyway
A text-only adventure. I always got stuck on the bit where you had to cross the river in the bathtub with polygonal holes in it.
Well, anonymous user, we can help you there! In the true spirit of Crystal Tips and Alistair, here is the solution to that tricky bathtub teaser! To plug its holes, USE TETRAHEDRON, USE CUBE, USE ICOSAHEDRON, USE OCTAHEDRON, USE DODECAHEDRON. To make yourself light enough, DROP BOTTLE, DROP PHIAL. Then LOOK BATH to traverse the flow. Does anyone else have any problems with 1980's text-only adventures? Have you tried asking Gandalf to carry you?
"I jonny well do!!"
Often, boys will believe that girls only have one hole - a universal hole for everything. A hole from which drops piss that stinks a bit like poo. And poo that has the golden glisten of piss and babies.
As our understanding inevitablly developed, we discovered that the front hole had ANOTHER two holes in it, like women were a damn Mandlebrot set of ever more specific holes.
One boy who clung to the single-hole theory also believed that a vibrator was a kind of footspa, and that you could ask your hairdresser for a blowjob.
As our understanding inevitablly developed, we discovered that the front hole had ANOTHER two holes in it, like women were a damn Mandlebrot set of ever more specific holes.
One boy who clung to the single-hole theory also believed that a vibrator was a kind of footspa, and that you could ask your hairdresser for a blowjob.
Raise the volume and tempo on the keyboard to maximum. Then, start the Bossa Nova drum pattern. This will transform a GCSE music class into an impromptu early-90s hardcore techno dance club.
Recreate the rave piano effect by pressing one note with the forefinger of each hand, like a retarded typist.
Recreate the rave piano effect by pressing one note with the forefinger of each hand, like a retarded typist.
If a music teacher is using the National Anthem to illustrate some point or another, it is your duty to the Queen to stand up every time it's played. It's doubly important to do this if the treasonous order is given not to.
If the national anthems of other countries are played, be a part of the global village by standing for those, too. If you are told not to stand to these, say "ar, sir, don't be racist".
If the national anthems of other countries are played, be a part of the global village by standing for those, too. If you are told not to stand to these, say "ar, sir, don't be racist".
In an attempt to avoid bangers being confiscated by our teachers we used to hide them in our shoes as we got back on the coach - amazingly we got away with it year after year. We once stuck a large banger in the exhaust pipe of the school caretaker's car which made a surprising mess of the back of his vehicle.
Reads so much better if you read it out of context (as I did) and visualise sausages instead. - Phil
Reads so much better if you read it out of context (as I did) and visualise sausages instead. - Phil
Nothing odd about the story. Blindies use balls with bells in them to play soccer. The trouble is when the ball stops moving the bell stops ringing.
Oh PLEASE let this be true! Yes, it's cruel to mock the afflicted, but if they voluntarily choose to run about in the dark listening out for a jangling hamster toy, they deserve everything they get, frankly.
Oh PLEASE let this be true! Yes, it's cruel to mock the afflicted, but if they voluntarily choose to run about in the dark listening out for a jangling hamster toy, they deserve everything they get, frankly.
A : Have you heard the gestapo joke?
b : No...
(A slaps B hard around the around the face and shouts in a comedy Nazi accent)
A : Liar!
If the question is answered with a weary "Yes", then slap them and call them a liar anyway; disorientation is a perfectly valid method of interrogation.
b : No...
(A slaps B hard around the around the face and shouts in a comedy Nazi accent)
A : Liar!
If the question is answered with a weary "Yes", then slap them and call them a liar anyway; disorientation is a perfectly valid method of interrogation.
Another situation in which you should never shout mum - and there are many - is when you have been stung by a bee. And you are in your shorts, during a P.E. lesson. And you are running towards your teacher, who is a man.
Although the hysteria will get everyone sent to the changing rooms early, you will never convince anyone that your mother isn't a big hairy man.
Although the hysteria will get everyone sent to the changing rooms early, you will never convince anyone that your mother isn't a big hairy man.
We also used Jig-Cal. In the days when children were better programmers than adults, one friend managed to adapt the program so that whatever choices you made, no matter how much you loved animals or wigs, you were always advised to give up your education and become a Mujahadeen Freedom Fighter immediately.
Poem found on the wall of a "hut classroom" outside the school.
Baa baa baa, the sheep is in the field.
Baa baa baa, he's keeping his eyes peeled.
Baa baa baa, he's feeling kind of funny.
Baa baa baa, he's looking for his mummy.
The poem then becomes more broken in style, perhaps reflecting the panic of the young sheep. It continues;
He spots his mum in the corner,
He runs to hug his mummy,
But it's not her!
It's a great big rock!
The poem then climaxes with;
Oh no!
No-one can argue that this is the best poem ever.
Baa baa baa, the sheep is in the field.
Baa baa baa, he's keeping his eyes peeled.
Baa baa baa, he's feeling kind of funny.
Baa baa baa, he's looking for his mummy.
The poem then becomes more broken in style, perhaps reflecting the panic of the young sheep. It continues;
He spots his mum in the corner,
He runs to hug his mummy,
But it's not her!
It's a great big rock!
The poem then climaxes with;
Oh no!
No-one can argue that this is the best poem ever.
No, Jesus no, it's this;
Down at fragle rock,
Grab a fraggle by its cock,
Swing it round and round,
Then bash it on the ground.
If it wants some more,
Jam its bollocks in the door,
If it isnt dead -
Kick it in the head.
If you think its right,
Blow it up with dynamite,
Pick up all the bits,
And throw them in the bin...
Throw them in the bin...
Throw them in the bin...
Although this starts out as a routine session of Fraggle-bashing, it's worth noting that the second verse is done with the Fraggle's permission, and the third verse (the Fraggle probably being unconscious by this point) only carries on the violence if the attacker deems it right. Say, if the Fraggle had been touching up the Doozers, in which case the filthy little bastard deserves everything it gets.
Down at fragle rock,
Grab a fraggle by its cock,
Swing it round and round,
Then bash it on the ground.
If it wants some more,
Jam its bollocks in the door,
If it isnt dead -
Kick it in the head.
If you think its right,
Blow it up with dynamite,
Pick up all the bits,
And throw them in the bin...
Throw them in the bin...
Throw them in the bin...
Although this starts out as a routine session of Fraggle-bashing, it's worth noting that the second verse is done with the Fraggle's permission, and the third verse (the Fraggle probably being unconscious by this point) only carries on the violence if the attacker deems it right. Say, if the Fraggle had been touching up the Doozers, in which case the filthy little bastard deserves everything it gets.
I don't know what kind of crazy smack you guys are on but pinfinger is :
Make sure they know it's a pinfinger, otherwise you might be confused with a girlie-fighting fingernailed ladyboy.
An addition to this basic pinfinger is to write AIDS over a bottle of Quink, and dip the pin into it before attacking. Make sure your victim sees this.
- Getting a candle from art class.
- Melting the wax onto the tips of your fingers.
- Before the wax hardens, insert a drawing pin.
- Scratch the face of the fucking dick who grassed you up for spitting off the top of the English block.
Make sure they know it's a pinfinger, otherwise you might be confused with a girlie-fighting fingernailed ladyboy.
An addition to this basic pinfinger is to write AIDS over a bottle of Quink, and dip the pin into it before attacking. Make sure your victim sees this.
I very much wanted this to be true, BUT:
1) I could not be bothered to leaf through the entire Bible
2) I do not own one
However, as 30% of the Internet consists of Christian Americans, I thought a quick Google search would confirm or deny. Here are the helpful, and conclusive, results: http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=jesus+%22i+come+too+quickly%22&hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&safe=off&filter=0
1) I could not be bothered to leaf through the entire Bible
2) I do not own one
However, as 30% of the Internet consists of Christian Americans, I thought a quick Google search would confirm or deny. Here are the helpful, and conclusive, results: http://www.google.co.uk/search?q=jesus+%22i+come+too+quickly%22&hl=en&lr=&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8&safe=off&filter=0
Stock phrase from a teacher, when confronted by pupils making a mess.
Best met with the reply "yes, they are". Because, after all, they fucking are.
Best met with the reply "yes, they are". Because, after all, they fucking are.
The inventors of Infra-Red Remote Control watches allowed the disruption of many an Apaches video.
Adjust the volume.
Hopefully, the television will be before on-screen displays of the volume, so it would just seem like a mechanical glitch. The teacher will be concerned, but not enough to stop the video.
Pause. Resume.
Timing is everything. First, quickly stop-start the video to let everyone know something is amiss. The second time, not too long after the first, and only resume when the teacher gets out of her chair, leaving her hovering in mid-air, unsure which way to go. Then leave it for a minute or two, until everyone thinks it's working again, then pause and leave it until she actually gets to the video before you hit play. Then hit pause the second she sits down. When she gets back to the video, move to the next stage.
Fast Forward / Rewind
Convince the teacher that something is seriously wrong by pressing something on your watch immediately after she presses something on the video. She presses play? Hit rewind. Continue until she is hopelessly flustered, and fetches another, more male, teacher.
Resume Normal Service
When the other teacher is in, you obviously let the video run normally. You should also complain that this video on the Bayeux Tapestry is really interesting, and it's frustrating that you can't seem to watch it in the manner the programme makers intended. The other teacher will leave, perhaps rolling his eyes at the flapping woman in his wake.
Tear Her Soul Apart
No mercy. The second he has left the door, bombard the video with everything you've got. The look of pained helplessness and growing panic on her face will inspire sympathy in only the gayest of children.
Adjust the volume.
Hopefully, the television will be before on-screen displays of the volume, so it would just seem like a mechanical glitch. The teacher will be concerned, but not enough to stop the video.
Pause. Resume.
Timing is everything. First, quickly stop-start the video to let everyone know something is amiss. The second time, not too long after the first, and only resume when the teacher gets out of her chair, leaving her hovering in mid-air, unsure which way to go. Then leave it for a minute or two, until everyone thinks it's working again, then pause and leave it until she actually gets to the video before you hit play. Then hit pause the second she sits down. When she gets back to the video, move to the next stage.
Fast Forward / Rewind
Convince the teacher that something is seriously wrong by pressing something on your watch immediately after she presses something on the video. She presses play? Hit rewind. Continue until she is hopelessly flustered, and fetches another, more male, teacher.
Resume Normal Service
When the other teacher is in, you obviously let the video run normally. You should also complain that this video on the Bayeux Tapestry is really interesting, and it's frustrating that you can't seem to watch it in the manner the programme makers intended. The other teacher will leave, perhaps rolling his eyes at the flapping woman in his wake.
Tear Her Soul Apart
No mercy. The second he has left the door, bombard the video with everything you've got. The look of pained helplessness and growing panic on her face will inspire sympathy in only the gayest of children.
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.
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.
Ineffectual racism is crap, because it leaves you looking both morally repugnant AND bloody stupid.
Bullied to the point of "the rage" (q.v.) by a sikh boy, I decided in my desperation to retaliate by being racist, as I'd been told that this was "the very worst kind of all abuse".
Alas, my chick-pea eating, Greenham-common-supporting upbringing got in the way, and all I managed was a rather oblique comment about "things having a rather dark complexion."
He just looked a bit perplexed. However, he must have brooded about it nightly for a long time, because after not seeing him at all for four years, he suddenly approached me and threw me down a stairwell.
Bullied to the point of "the rage" (q.v.) by a sikh boy, I decided in my desperation to retaliate by being racist, as I'd been told that this was "the very worst kind of all abuse".
Alas, my chick-pea eating, Greenham-common-supporting upbringing got in the way, and all I managed was a rather oblique comment about "things having a rather dark complexion."
He just looked a bit perplexed. However, he must have brooded about it nightly for a long time, because after not seeing him at all for four years, he suddenly approached me and threw me down a stairwell.
In the view of our woodwork (Design/Technology, if you must) teacher, the activity definitional of homosexuality; much more so than the rubbing together of four balls and two dicks.
Mr Hardy: "Where have those two boys gone?"
Mr Laurel: "They're both in the storeroom."
Mr Hardy: "Humph. Reading the Gay Times, I expect."
Mr Hardy: "Where have those two boys gone?"
Mr Laurel: "They're both in the storeroom."
Mr Hardy: "Humph. Reading the Gay Times, I expect."
Our R.E. teacher once set us the homework question "what is the meaning of life?" Only slightly beyond the scope of a 2nd year religious education course. What if one of us had got it right, though? That would have fucked him up.
The letter 'H'? Were you a popular girl?
it's the acronym that keeps on giving:
all day I drink animal spunk
all day I drink animal spunk
A phrase which, as well the well-established meaning of "I found it, it's mine", announces an impending mugging, much like a highwayman command to a coach party to stand and deliver.
Particularly loquacious bullies in the Wild West of Scotland might say "fin', keep: brek beak" which roughly translates to "I'm going to pat you down and if you've lied about not having anything, you get a fucking broken nose".
Particularly loquacious bullies in the Wild West of Scotland might say "fin', keep: brek beak" which roughly translates to "I'm going to pat you down and if you've lied about not having anything, you get a fucking broken nose".
From the too good to be true range...
For the matinee performance of one my school's plays, the special education students were brought into the auditorium in their wheelchairs and parked in the front row. To prevent the students in the motorized chairs from going anywhere, the teacher turned off the power on their chairs.
Being the light-board operator I had seen the production several times and was paying more attention to the audience than the show. About halfway through the performance, one of the handicapped children caught my attention; he had pushed himself out of his chair. I watched him for about twenty minutes as he pushed himself further and further to the right, until he finally reached his goal.
A boy in a motorized wheelchair, who had fallen asleep on his joystick.
Motorized wheelchairs are capable of decent speeds, it seems. So when (after twenty minutes of sterling work, mind you) the crawling young man flipped the power switch on his neighbour's chair, the hapless sleeper was rocketed forward full throttle, slamming the chair into the low stage.
The now very much awake student flew - in that slow motion way that disabled people flying out of their wheelchairs have - onto the stage. The actors stopped, the audience was aghast, and the only sound louder than the wailing cries of the student on the stage, was the hysterical laughter of the young man on the floor where once a wheelchair was parked.
For the matinee performance of one my school's plays, the special education students were brought into the auditorium in their wheelchairs and parked in the front row. To prevent the students in the motorized chairs from going anywhere, the teacher turned off the power on their chairs.
Being the light-board operator I had seen the production several times and was paying more attention to the audience than the show. About halfway through the performance, one of the handicapped children caught my attention; he had pushed himself out of his chair. I watched him for about twenty minutes as he pushed himself further and further to the right, until he finally reached his goal.
A boy in a motorized wheelchair, who had fallen asleep on his joystick.
Motorized wheelchairs are capable of decent speeds, it seems. So when (after twenty minutes of sterling work, mind you) the crawling young man flipped the power switch on his neighbour's chair, the hapless sleeper was rocketed forward full throttle, slamming the chair into the low stage.
The now very much awake student flew - in that slow motion way that disabled people flying out of their wheelchairs have - onto the stage. The actors stopped, the audience was aghast, and the only sound louder than the wailing cries of the student on the stage, was the hysterical laughter of the young man on the floor where once a wheelchair was parked.
Second-eldest son of a headmaster, inflicted upon Toll Bar School between 1985 and 1990. The originator of many anecdotes involving puddings, spunk and vodka. Here are some of his crimes;
Getting pissed on a fourth year trip to Stratford, knicking a traffic sign and singing 'On a Clear Day You Can See My Penis' outside the girls' dormitory at midnight.
Bringing ice-cream to school for his packed lunch. Ice cream melted in his bag, ruined his books.
Bought a frozen dessert from Tates for his lunch, tried to defrost it by putting it under his armpit, ate it.
Jacked off into a 35mm film canister as a love gift for Natasha Holmes. She ran off.
Got smashed on vodka in the 6th form, puked up neat vodka through his nose onto his pudding at lunchtime, continued eating it.
Getting pissed on a fourth year trip to Stratford, knicking a traffic sign and singing 'On a Clear Day You Can See My Penis' outside the girls' dormitory at midnight.
SUSPENDED FOR TWO WEEKS
Bringing ice-cream to school for his packed lunch. Ice cream melted in his bag, ruined his books.
GOT BOLLOCKED
Bought a frozen dessert from Tates for his lunch, tried to defrost it by putting it under his armpit, ate it.
GOT STOMACH CRAMPS
Jacked off into a 35mm film canister as a love gift for Natasha Holmes. She ran off.
TREATED WITH WARY DISDAIN FOR SOME WEEKS
Got smashed on vodka in the 6th form, puked up neat vodka through his nose onto his pudding at lunchtime, continued eating it.
GOT THROWN OUT
LAST SEEN SELLING CUSTOMISED CLIPPER LIGHTERS AT CAR BOOT SALEFor passive partners in gay relationships who wish to avoid being made gay by the experience of constant passive sex, you can avoid being gay by not pushing yourself back onto the penis. Also try not to make too many enjoying-it noises.
I remember a nurse playing with my foreskin in primary school. I had just been tested on piling up some coloured bricks, and I assumed that the penis examination was a punishment.
Parents say they'll "throttle" you if you don't shut up... getting your foreskin raped seemed, therefore, entirely appropriate for underperformance in a coloured brick-piling exercise.
Parents say they'll "throttle" you if you don't shut up... getting your foreskin raped seemed, therefore, entirely appropriate for underperformance in a coloured brick-piling exercise.
"What do you think this is lad? Some kind of... Idiot Park?"
A rubbish insult, but a wonderful image - Alton Towers for half wits. People queueing the wrong way. People buying do-nuts and hugging them, and suffocating in the plastic ponchos you buy for the water rides.
It still makes me smile 10 years on.
A rubbish insult, but a wonderful image - Alton Towers for half wits. People queueing the wrong way. People buying do-nuts and hugging them, and suffocating in the plastic ponchos you buy for the water rides.
It still makes me smile 10 years on.
When Mark Roberts, a fat child with an extrememly large slaphead, lost his claim to a decent childhood when he was punched in the back in a science lab, and everyone heard the booming noise his hollow bloat made.
Attempts to recreate this biological marvel meant that it would be a rare day which didn't result in Mark acquiring at least half a dozen new bruises.
Attempts to recreate this biological marvel meant that it would be a rare day which didn't result in Mark acquiring at least half a dozen new bruises.
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.
June 1987. Sports day. The fifth form 100m final contestants line up on the start line. Among them, Peter Bliss - wearing size 12 rugby boots, tatty grey baggy cloth shorts, a too-small t-shirt died pink in the wash and his trademark NHS glasses.
And they're off.
Ten kids hurtle down the track encouraged by the shouts of 500 kids and adults. But - within a few seconds, the noise falters, withers, then dies completely. Apart from a faint "phut phut phut phut phut".
Peter Bliss, with a furious look of red-faced determination etched on his spotty mug, is running faster than all the other competitors. He just isn't running in the right direction. Nobody's watching the race any more; all eyes are on Peter as he runs straight through the crowd of kids and shellshocked parents, and straight across the empty playground behind.
He runs straight into the toilets. With a big pile of shit tumbling out the back of his shorts.
It doesn't stay quiet for very long.
And they're off.
Ten kids hurtle down the track encouraged by the shouts of 500 kids and adults. But - within a few seconds, the noise falters, withers, then dies completely. Apart from a faint "phut phut phut phut phut".
Peter Bliss, with a furious look of red-faced determination etched on his spotty mug, is running faster than all the other competitors. He just isn't running in the right direction. Nobody's watching the race any more; all eyes are on Peter as he runs straight through the crowd of kids and shellshocked parents, and straight across the empty playground behind.
He runs straight into the toilets. With a big pile of shit tumbling out the back of his shorts.
It doesn't stay quiet for very long.
At the time of the Teenage Mutant "Hero" Turtles (Psst, the BBC - we all called them Ninja Turtles anyway, you dicks), a variant of tag where instead of being it, you were 'Sexy Splinter'.
This is a photo of Splinter. Sexy Splinter. Phwoar. Splinter.
This is a photo of Splinter. Sexy Splinter. Phwoar. Splinter.
It's barleys, you arse turds - anonymous
It's called "ecksies", because you cross your fingers. Like an X, you see? - Jimmy Disco T
For thousands of of us in the north-east it was "skinch" - Spuddy
Shut up, it's "SCRIBS!" - Lou Watson
It's "paxies". From the latin for peace. You flimsy jizzrags. - Jimbob N
And with that, NO MORE ENTRIES FOR FEIGHKNIGHTS.
It's called "ecksies", because you cross your fingers. Like an X, you see? - Jimmy Disco T
For thousands of of us in the north-east it was "skinch" - Spuddy
Shut up, it's "SCRIBS!" - Lou Watson
It's "paxies". From the latin for peace. You flimsy jizzrags. - Jimbob N
And with that, NO MORE ENTRIES FOR FEIGHKNIGHTS.
Well - you had to be sure.
I had the following question on a philosophy degree finals paper: "Could you have done anything other than answer this question?"
Being a philosophy student, I'd spent all my time drinking red wine and wearing berets in a fug of existential despair instead of doing any actual work, so to this day I have no idea whether I answered it or not.
Being a philosophy student, I'd spent all my time drinking red wine and wearing berets in a fug of existential despair instead of doing any actual work, so to this day I have no idea whether I answered it or not.
What fun it must have been to write your name in shit on the toilet wall of infant school! And yet how sad that you spelled it "bean" instead of "dean".
Good God. I am reminded of a time when the pure energy of class 2B's non-sexual anal-train managed to shunt the teachers desk (large, wooden, full of useless educational pamphlets) from one end of the classroom to the other in a shockingly innocent congo bum line.
Hindsight is not helpful in this instance. It is still unfathomable. Unless, of course, you posit that we were all terrible little homos.
Hindsight is not helpful in this instance. It is still unfathomable. Unless, of course, you posit that we were all terrible little homos.
Believe it or not, and I suspect you won't, we had a living Batty Book title in our year. His condition? He was deaf. His name? Ian Kinnear. No he can't. God how we laughed.
We asked "were you born with happiness or a fat knee?"
The assumption is that these are mutually exclusive conditions, but I've met many cheerful chubby people, and they can't all have been hermaphrodites. Could they?
The assumption is that these are mutually exclusive conditions, but I've met many cheerful chubby people, and they can't all have been hermaphrodites. Could they?
The object of fouling soccer, quite intuitively, is to foul as much as possible. By the end of the game, most people would be exhausted, but everyone would manage a last burst of energy for Injury Time - which, bien sur, was where you caused as many injuries as possible for around a minute.
So, you've been taken to see some Shakespeare play, and whilst you're trying to be polite and enjoy the thing as best you can, given that it's all in Stupidish. But there's your fucking English Teacher next to you, guffawing too fucking loud at every damn joke and pun.
Watch the actors closely - you can see the spear carriers mouthing 'wanker' at each other.
Watch the actors closely - you can see the spear carriers mouthing 'wanker' at each other.
I was told I should be a photographer's assistant. I'm now a teacher, and took the test again, to see if my results would be changed by world experience, and a more profound insight into the workings of the program.
Nope. Photographer's assistant.
Nope. Photographer's assistant.
Gerrunder - a regional pronunciation of "get under", as shouted by Pamela Tatler throughout her entire fourth year.
She once made a teacher so frustrated by her persistent one-word outbursts that he picked up her, her chair and her desk in one scooping movement, and put her outside the class.
After he deposited her outside the door and returned to the class, everyone went quiet. The calm was punctuated by a plaintive question from outside;
"Gerrunder?"
This was an innovation; she'd never punctuated her gerrunders before, and a new range of Gerrunder Moods was born.
She once made a teacher so frustrated by her persistent one-word outbursts that he picked up her, her chair and her desk in one scooping movement, and put her outside the class.
After he deposited her outside the door and returned to the class, everyone went quiet. The calm was punctuated by a plaintive question from outside;
"Gerrunder?"
This was an innovation; she'd never punctuated her gerrunders before, and a new range of Gerrunder Moods was born.
I know! Lets' get the dog to lick our cocks!
[pause as we tried to work out if he was joking]
Brilliant idea! That'd be amazing! You go first!
[he wasn't joking]
[pause as we tried to work out if he was joking]
Brilliant idea! That'd be amazing! You go first!
[he wasn't joking]
In the Fifth Form, rumour had it that somebody on my street had indulged in some heavy 'bottom canoodling' with Sandra.
Thereafter, she was only ever referred to as Sweetcorn Sandra, as it became widely known that upon extraction, he discovered that a piece of sweetcorn had become lodged in his Jap’s-eye.
Thereafter, she was only ever referred to as Sweetcorn Sandra, as it became widely known that upon extraction, he discovered that a piece of sweetcorn had become lodged in his Jap’s-eye.
On a similar line, the signs reading "Please mind your head" on our local trains, reminding travellers to watch out for the overhead luggage racks, were easily and often changed to "Fleas in your head".
astounding and surreal compound obscenity exclaimed by James "Lucy" Lockwood during a game of Wembley.
Babb listened to Radio 4 and collected stamps. Despite this, his fate was only sealed the day he missed the bus on the sixth form university open-day trip.
Instead of running, or walking off swearing, Babb, chose to skip contentedly behind the bus. He only fucking skipped. For long enough for everyone to see.
Subsequently, when you had a conversation with him, there were people queuing up to do a Babb behind his back. From that day, Babb was cursed to never have another conversation with anyone who wasn't laughing at something that wasn't quite him.
Instead of running, or walking off swearing, Babb, chose to skip contentedly behind the bus. He only fucking skipped. For long enough for everyone to see.
Subsequently, when you had a conversation with him, there were people queuing up to do a Babb behind his back. From that day, Babb was cursed to never have another conversation with anyone who wasn't laughing at something that wasn't quite him.
Any thrill which causes adolescent excitement is a cheapy. You "get your cheapies" by becoming embarrassingly over-excited at any mention of sex, violence, snuff movies, girls pants etc.
Used pejoratively as a self-regulating disciplinary mechanism amongst groups of teenage boys:
"Eugh! Smiffy's getting his cheapies"
Used pejoratively as a self-regulating disciplinary mechanism amongst groups of teenage boys:
"Eugh! Smiffy's getting his cheapies"
In days of old,
When men were bold,
And women weren't invented.
They drilled big holes in telegraph poles,
and walked away contented.
I think the implication is that they fucked the hole in the telegraph pole. Otherwise it's a pretty weird way to get your kicks, drilling holes in telegraph poles then walking off.
For those of you who didn't know that women were invented after telegraph poles, here is the first ever telegraph conversation.
When men were bold,
And women weren't invented.
They drilled big holes in telegraph poles,
and walked away contented.
I think the implication is that they fucked the hole in the telegraph pole. Otherwise it's a pretty weird way to get your kicks, drilling holes in telegraph poles then walking off.
For those of you who didn't know that women were invented after telegraph poles, here is the first ever telegraph conversation.
Jonathan fell from the climbing rope in Primary School PE, and landed directly astride the balance beam. This had exploded one of his balls like a water balloon.
Attempts by him to disprove the rumour by stretching his scrotum for all to see, showing a clear 2-ball outline, led to accusations that he was pressing out one of the bumps with his finger.
But, eventually, we had to accept that he did have a second ball. A plastic second ball.
Whatever, it didn't affect his virility as he managed to get Angela Smithers up the duff before his fifteenth birthday.
Attempts by him to disprove the rumour by stretching his scrotum for all to see, showing a clear 2-ball outline, led to accusations that he was pressing out one of the bumps with his finger.
But, eventually, we had to accept that he did have a second ball. A plastic second ball.
Whatever, it didn't affect his virility as he managed to get Angela Smithers up the duff before his fifteenth birthday.
The sullen statement that came, seemingly out of nowhere, by Andy, after we'd been laughing at the suicide of our French teacher's wife for 15 minutes, including a detailed reenactment of him discovering the body.
We're still not sure what Andy was getting at.
We're still not sure what Andy was getting at.
Cribbage is a disease that causes the sufferer to freeze in a comedy pose. If, during a conversation with your friend, his fists raise to his face and press his cheeks into his eyes, it is polite to ask "ooh, nasty cribbage there?", then carry on talking.
It was funny for exactly one and a half days, by which time we'd run out of comedy poses.
It was funny for exactly one and a half days, by which time we'd run out of comedy poses.
Michael Michael Motorcycle,
Turn the key and watch him pee.
The stock schoolyard chant for when you wanted to torment someone by the name of Michael for no other reason than the fact that his name was Michael.
Other popular variants include "John John Leprechaun", who also did a pee when you turned a key.
Turn the key and watch him pee.
The stock schoolyard chant for when you wanted to torment someone by the name of Michael for no other reason than the fact that his name was Michael.
Other popular variants include "John John Leprechaun", who also did a pee when you turned a key.
The older of us remember that aiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee! is actually the noise made in the ace Commando books by the evil scheming Germans as they got utterly shot by the square-jawed Brits. The only other words the Germans uttered were 'Actung Spitfeur', 'Hande Hoche', 'Englander Schwein' and 'Gott in Himmel'.
That Germans made such a vowel-heavy nasal whine in their death throes made them big wet pansies. A stout Englishman dying in the field would bellow "WHOOAARGGGHH". In days of heavier casualties, it was like being trapped in the Brian Blessed dimension.
(Further discussion here. Good grief. - Log)
That Germans made such a vowel-heavy nasal whine in their death throes made them big wet pansies. A stout Englishman dying in the field would bellow "WHOOAARGGGHH". In days of heavier casualties, it was like being trapped in the Brian Blessed dimension.
(Further discussion here. Good grief. - Log)
Mr Bright taught commerce. He taught it with such a passion that spit would fly out of his mouth.
This was bad enough, but when he was using an overhead projector, the very considerable amount of spit that landed on the sheets was magnified, heated, and projected onto the wall.
It was the saliva equivalent of shitting onto a glass-topped coffee table, but with thirty children sitting underneath.
This was bad enough, but when he was using an overhead projector, the very considerable amount of spit that landed on the sheets was magnified, heated, and projected onto the wall.
It was the saliva equivalent of shitting onto a glass-topped coffee table, but with thirty children sitting underneath.
The rallying cry of dedicated onanist Dewy Gibbon, as he attempted to initiate a group wanking session. Dewy Gibbon was - unsurprisingly - the most unpopular and bullied kid in the school.
It may be mostly boys who shit everywhere, but we had a phantom tampon and sani pad spreader. This might have been one girl, two highly specialised competitors, or a boy trying to frame all womanhood, which would quite frankly be typical.
This is particularly unpleasant if you leave them in the middle of the playground in summer, and your school is in Mombasa. Where mine was.
This is particularly unpleasant if you leave them in the middle of the playground in summer, and your school is in Mombasa. Where mine was.
Dewy Gibbon, the dedicated onanist, ended up in the same class as me at sixth form college. In a unilateral bonding session, he decided to tell me more of his one-man sexploits.
He told me that he enjoyed wanking wearing a condom, as it was 'practice for the real thing'. But you had to be careful, as johnnies didn't always flush away down the loo.
His dad once found one of Dewy's spunk filled rubbers floating in the bog, and to spare his son's blushes, he fished it and put it in the bin.
Unfortunately, Dewy's mum then found it and demanded of her husband an explanation. To save his own skin, Dewy's dad grassed him up and Dewy had to face his parents, and explain that he wasn't having sex, but just poshing it around the house at every possible opportunity.
But it doesn't end there. It should, but it doesn't. Dewy went on to say that we couldn't be sure that he hadn't left floating johnnies in his grandmother's house.
I don't know what's more disturbing;
- an old woman poking at a floating, spunky sheath
- the fact that Dewy, on hearing that he was going to visit his grandmother, had grabbed a condom and said "this calls for a wank!"
He told me that he enjoyed wanking wearing a condom, as it was 'practice for the real thing'. But you had to be careful, as johnnies didn't always flush away down the loo.
His dad once found one of Dewy's spunk filled rubbers floating in the bog, and to spare his son's blushes, he fished it and put it in the bin.
Unfortunately, Dewy's mum then found it and demanded of her husband an explanation. To save his own skin, Dewy's dad grassed him up and Dewy had to face his parents, and explain that he wasn't having sex, but just poshing it around the house at every possible opportunity.
But it doesn't end there. It should, but it doesn't. Dewy went on to say that we couldn't be sure that he hadn't left floating johnnies in his grandmother's house.
I don't know what's more disturbing;
- an old woman poking at a floating, spunky sheath
- the fact that Dewy, on hearing that he was going to visit his grandmother, had grabbed a condom and said "this calls for a wank!"
Our fat teacher at primary school was Mrs Caligeerus. A name slightly too convoluted for some of our immature mouths leading to her being called Mrs Crocodile. Which might have been a pretty good insult, if we were Bengali.
(How does that relate to her behemothic monolithicness? More fatties please.)
(How does that relate to her behemothic monolithicness? More fatties please.)
The canonical response to claims of 'Skill Magill' was, of course, 'Luck McFuck'
A toy that - if you weren't educationally subnormal - would be snatched from you and confiscated, with an unsympathetic order to "grow up".
You are only allowed a mong dolly if a) you are a mong, and b) you're willing to cry for six hours if anyone so much as touches it.
You are only allowed a mong dolly if a) you are a mong, and b) you're willing to cry for six hours if anyone so much as touches it.
At a school we used to play rugby against, one of the P.E. staff who refereed our games was so fat that he had to referee the entire game from the half way line.
Additionally, if he was knocked down he couldn't get up again. He'd thrash about briefly, like some gargantuan speaking tortoise enjoying a mudbath, before blowing the whistle and asking, plaintively, "help me boys, I can't get up".
(How can I get out of the mud? I know! I'll eat my way out! scronfscronfscronfscronfscronf! Oh no, I've eaten the entire mantle of the Earth! Why oh why was I cursed with my bigbones™?)
Additionally, if he was knocked down he couldn't get up again. He'd thrash about briefly, like some gargantuan speaking tortoise enjoying a mudbath, before blowing the whistle and asking, plaintively, "help me boys, I can't get up".
(How can I get out of the mud? I know! I'll eat my way out! scronfscronfscronfscronfscronf! Oh no, I've eaten the entire mantle of the Earth! Why oh why was I cursed with my bigbones™?)
A: [puts 2 tips of index fingers together] "Cut the wire."
B: [separates the "wires" with his index finger]
A: "Your bum's on fire."
B: [separates the "wires" with his index finger]
A: "Your bum's on fire."
Alan West is an easy anagram of Anal Stew, if you're lucky enough to know an Alan West.
Arnold Hill, Nottingham; Mr Bunting was a PE teacher with a triple whammy of lampoonable afflictions; a monobrow, a lisp and a spazzy finger. His song went, to the tune of Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye;
Bunting,
Bunting's Eyebrows,
Bent Finger,
VALUABLphffhfpth.
Bunting-baiting had a brief renaissance when we overheard someone with a Japanese accent pronounce his name "Mr Bum King".
Bunting,
Bunting's Eyebrows,
Bent Finger,
VALUABLphffhfpth.
Bunting-baiting had a brief renaissance when we overheard someone with a Japanese accent pronounce his name "Mr Bum King".