Report for ryan joyce
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SummaryMean Boy

Edward Harris was notorious at St Patricks primary for his capacity to enter an apopleptic beserker rage, triggered by the class forming a circle around him and chanting "Reggie! reggie! reggie!" at the poor boy.

Ed would dutifully stand in the centre of the circle, shaking in a kind of faux-epilepsy, face becoming ever redder, before violently assaulting whichever object we aimed him at. Inanimate objects and fat kids were perennial favourites.

Whilst we have no idea where it actually originated, I always suspected it had something to do with Reginald Perrin, who we were all far too young to appreciate anyway.

-ryan (5yearplan@gmail.com)

Edward Harris was notorious at St Patricks primary for his tendancy to enter an apopleptic beserker rage, triggered by the class forming a circle around him and chanting "Reggie! reggie! reggie!" at the poor boy.

Ed would dutifully stand in the centre of the circle, shaking in a kind of faux-epilepsy, face becoming ever redder, before violently assaulting whichever object we aimed him at. Inanimate objects and fat kids were perennial favourites.

Whilst we have no idea where it actually originated, I always suspected it had something to do with Reginald Perrin, who we were all far too young to appreciate anyway.

-ryan

Edward Harris was notorious at St Patricks primary for his tendancy to enter an apopleptic beserker rage, triggered by the class forming a circle around him and chanting "Reggie! reggie! reggie!" at the poor boy.

Ed would dutifully stand in the centre of the circle, shaking in a kind of faux-epilepsy, face becoming ever redder, before violently assaulting whichever object we aimed him at. Inanimate objects and fat kids were perennial favourites.

Whilst we have no idea where it actually originated, I always suspected it had something to do with Reginald Perrin, who we were all far too young to appreciate anyway.

Everybody knew Brian Grogan smelt of cabbage. That is, until that one fateful day in Sister Stella's class.

Brian excused himself to goto the toilet, and for reasons known only to him smeared the result all over the toilet walls with his hands. Sister Stella was dutifully informed. When no admission was forthcoming, she lined up the class and proceeded to smell everybody's hands. until she reached Brian.

Natrually, St Patricks' junior fecaphile was quickly aprehended and whisked away for punishment unknown by a very angry nun.

On reflection, Brian's subsequent transfer to another school *might* have been connected to the merciless bullying he incurred from that day on.

Wallball: Squash with violence.

you fling a tennis ball at the gym wall, and one of the other players must try to catch it. If somebody fails to catch it they must stand by the wall and everybody has a go at flinging the tennisball at you as hard as they can.

Should you miss the wall altogether, you would be roundly mocked then pummled with tennisballs. Although hitting somebody in the face or groin was officially frowned upon, hilarious 'accidents' happened with worrying frequency.

also known as bat-wings.

Everybody knows that your footballing prowess is directly proportional to the brand of football boots you own.

Nikes ensure you'll enjoys a long and sucessfull professional career, wheras a pair of Mitre boots condemned you to the lower echlons of semi professional football. at best.

It should be noted that moulded soles, metal studs, and boot colour are also important factors to be considered.

also known as a nipple cripple.

quite how a nipple can become crippled was never fully explored.

a grammatically incorrect insult often found scrawled on the pencil cases & bags of life's victims.

The correct response, of course, was: "What about my Gay?"

if She-ra had a child, would she become Mumm-ra?

poinient stuff.

Although quite how being Phil Colins is any better, i'll never know.

dorchfall - diarreah
schtoppen-dorchfall - constipation

I've probably spelt those wrong, but it's been a fair few years since i last had a) german or b) constipation.

It was well known at my school that being shot up the bum was the most enduring, degrading and ultimately painfull death possible. We also decided this method of dispatch was favoured by the Nazis, for the reasons above.

the girls of our secondary school were issued with special blue boxes to keep their cuntrags in, which they duly filled with fags. Thus avoiding detection, as even the most dilligent male teacher would pale at the thought of what might lie in those boxes. Ten lamberts, as it happened.

Was the prospect of launching some thirsty Joey's dool into your mouth not enough to deter you from using the public drinking fountains, then the stubborn rumours that Paul Murray had shit in them the day before certainly would.
(Always the day before, too. Never "earlier today". This means that Paul Murray must have stayed behind after school to shit in the drinking fountain every single day.)

foolproof instructions for writing any letter: up, around and down. apparently.

It is traditional to stamp on a pair of new shoes on sight if they are worn by weaker children. In the case of Ian Lunn, the Headmaster was fair game too.

It was this sort of behaviour that saw Ian in lunchtime detention for three entire years.

When I was at school, one of the teachers foolishly told us that a rolled up newspaper, folded in half, was harder than a piece of wood at the folded end. With predictable results.

aka. spit bunjie

aka. spit bunjie

School bully Joe Jefferis spent DT lessons making baseball bats on the lathe. In a charming act of denial, our woodwork teacher Mr McKeogh genuinely seemed to believe Joe was making table legs.

like all good bullies, these days Joe's in jail. or dead. or something.

Cascaid told me i would become an IT technician. i cried.