A mentalist. Barrow Gurney was the name of the Psychiatric Hospital near Bristol, and became a generic term of abuse. The name was perfect - the natural face of the spastic being a happy gurn, and their primary mode of transport being the wheelbarrow. The second word should be drawn out: Barrow Guuuuuurney!

In Wakefield we had the Stanley Royd infirmary, and I challenge anyone - Wakefield native or otherwise - to say the word Royd without thinking about the mentally ill. In particular, thinking of a young tardlet called Stanley Royd introducing himself to a smiling and plainly uncomfortable class.
This inspiring institution ensured the continuing popularity of spacker-derived insults for Wakefield's schoolboys well into the post-Deacon era.

give this to me, immediately

Your wish is my command, cockfingers

Park Lane, was the recepticle of our towns Rems and Mongoloids, they also had one of them "Variety Club Sunshine Coaches" to take them everywhere, lucky shites.

Anyeay, these two rather obscure things manifested themselves into a coherent song that would be gleefully sang at the top of our voices as the sunshine bus trundled past, Bizzarely sung to the tune of the vengaboys smashtastic hit "Vengabus" it went something like

The Park Lane bus is coming
And everybodys dribbling,
Saliva on the window,
And puddles on the floor...

The worrying thing is, I think we were about 15 when this was made up.

Not to be confused with the infinately harsher "Ding dong, Griffin's dead" ditty....

High Royds was north Leeds' mental hospital, and much amusement was made by saying stuff like "Your dad's in High Royds".

After leaving school my then girlfriend's dad had a short stay in High Royds. Waiting at the bus stop after visiting him one day, an old school friend of my girlfriend's saw us and asked where we'd been. The only thing my girlfriend could say was "visiting my dad in high royds". We all struggled not to laugh.

Shenley Reject –

As above - used to describe mentalists, became generic and derived from the local nuthouse.

Due to the twisted meanderings of childhood logic to be ‘rejected’ from Psychiatric Care was not considered a success. It was believed that a person could be expelled from a mental institution on the grounds of being too dribblingly mad... and end up in 3C.

(Seems odd, but the theory was tested when ‘Care in the Community’ came about and the area was flooded with schizoid stab-happy lunatics.)

Other information – A reference to Shenley Reject already appears in the Mary Whitehouse Experience Encyclopedia. This is because that twat Baddiel went to school in South Hertfordshire.

Oh, the correct way to deliver the insult is in the manner of a football chant:

‘Shenley Reject! Shenley Reject! Whoa! Whoa!’

There is another (in fact there are many) psychiatric hospital in Bristol called Purdown. Its more learning disability than out and out nutters. This led to the red/tan coloured boots that cerebal palsy kids always seemed to wear (the ones with the metal brace attachments) being re-named 'Purdown Percy Football Boots'

Soon there will be no more mental hospitals left and a whole vein of humour will be lost to future generations.

Another psychiatric hospital in Bristol was Purdown. If you wore either a) the red boots with metal attachments because you had cerebal palsy, or b) any other wierd shoe because your parents were posh and/or hippies, or c) a big unfashionable shoe because you shared them with your big brother and you were poor, then you were likely to invoke the cry "Purdown Percy Football Boots!"

There were a suprising number of mentalist retreats in Bristol. Says a lot really. Turfing all the nutters out and turning the big Victorian colonies into flats may make us seem to be quite posh rather than a bit West Cunt-er-ee but I doubt it.

Our local nut-house was Barnsley Hall. Thus, when you said or did anything stupid, you earned a chorus of "Duuurrhhh! Barnsleeeeee!" (complete with tongue jammed behind lower lip and index finger twisted against temple. This contuned until Joey Decaon came along and re-wrote the rule book.

Huh. That's nothing. We had Barnsley Hall. ANyone doing anything remotely stupid received a "Duuuuhhh! Barnsley!" said with one's tongue jemmed behind the bottom lip.

In Leeds, the local nut hatch was High Royds in the village of Menston. Which meant that anyone with so much as a hint of mental insufficiencies was assailed with "You Menston!" which was said with a Joey Deacon inflection.

I now regularly drive through Menston but cannot bring myself to explain to my boyfriend why the village's name always causes me to laugh. It's a new relationship and I don't think he's ready for the Joey face yet.