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

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