A song to the tune of Matt Bianco's cover of "Yeah Yeah".
I am a mongol, and i run around town,
and people hit me on my water filled crown,
it took me two months just to do up my tie,
I had an option to do it or die,
I say uuuurr uuuurrr.
John Connors was asked to sing it in assembly as the english teacher thought it was called "I am a Moron". Connors was put in detention and had to write a letter of apology to Mrs Ware who had a down syndrome child and had run out of assembly crying. This all seemed rather unfair.
I am a mongol, and i run around town,
and people hit me on my water filled crown,
it took me two months just to do up my tie,
I had an option to do it or die,
I say uuuurr uuuurrr.
John Connors was asked to sing it in assembly as the english teacher thought it was called "I am a Moron". Connors was put in detention and had to write a letter of apology to Mrs Ware who had a down syndrome child and had run out of assembly crying. This all seemed rather unfair.
Unusually-shaped signs have been specially designed for the River Uck so as to provide no quarter to schoolboys with pen or paint in their hands and a gigantic letter 'F' in their heads.
However, the ever-so-diligent local council failed to recognise that the smutty minds of their schoolkids are not so easily thwarted; our roving reporter provided this photograph of a nearby town sign which shows that they still have some way to go before they can entirely eradicate filth from the streets of East Sussex.
However, the ever-so-diligent local council failed to recognise that the smutty minds of their schoolkids are not so easily thwarted; our roving reporter provided this photograph of a nearby town sign which shows that they still have some way to go before they can entirely eradicate filth from the streets of East Sussex.
Where everyone stands along the urinal in the P.E. block. One shouts 'Pissy Circle' and does a nifty pirouette sending a looping strand of piss over his co-pissers.
Very well known game, in which combatants link fingers and attempt to get the other person to say 'mercy' by damaging the other person's wrists as painfully as possible. More fun if you use the other person's hands to hit themselves mid-bout, BUT watch out for the one in 2,000 children whose wrists bend back painlessly to meet their arms.
These children can never lose at mercy, and even if they're too weak to get a mercy out of you, there's no dignity to be had from trying to hurt someone who is smiling in that sickening way that shit people have when they're doing the one thing they're good at.
Additionally, if you let go, that constitutes a 'mercy', so you're stuck - effectively holding hands - with this leering feebler, until he gets bored. And he won't get bored, because he's doing the one thing he's good at.
Just be careful, is all.
These children can never lose at mercy, and even if they're too weak to get a mercy out of you, there's no dignity to be had from trying to hurt someone who is smiling in that sickening way that shit people have when they're doing the one thing they're good at.
Additionally, if you let go, that constitutes a 'mercy', so you're stuck - effectively holding hands - with this leering feebler, until he gets bored. And he won't get bored, because he's doing the one thing he's good at.
Just be careful, is all.
Cedric was our GSCE English teacher. I always thought this nickname was just childish alliteration, but the real reason soon became apparent.
During his lessons we would occasionally hear a long hissing noise, as he slowly but surely pissed himself.
He wore a catheter bag, which might explain why his pissing hissed, to be honest I never put my hand up and asked "sir, why does it make a hissing sound when you stand in front of class and piss yourself?"
Occasionally... this bag would develop a leak. And because he wore the same trousers everyday, a succession of dry salty tidemarks would develop around the crotch.
It is with a sense of shame - the man was incredibly nice - that I remember the whole class roaring with laughter. Cedric thinking it was due to his excellent depiction of Malvolio in Twelfth Night. Us, because the more we laughed, the more it encouraged him to prance about and the bigger his wet patch would grow.
(I have checked this entry out with the author, and he swears blind that it is all true. And that's good enough for me. - Log)
During his lessons we would occasionally hear a long hissing noise, as he slowly but surely pissed himself.
He wore a catheter bag, which might explain why his pissing hissed, to be honest I never put my hand up and asked "sir, why does it make a hissing sound when you stand in front of class and piss yourself?"
Occasionally... this bag would develop a leak. And because he wore the same trousers everyday, a succession of dry salty tidemarks would develop around the crotch.
It is with a sense of shame - the man was incredibly nice - that I remember the whole class roaring with laughter. Cedric thinking it was due to his excellent depiction of Malvolio in Twelfth Night. Us, because the more we laughed, the more it encouraged him to prance about and the bigger his wet patch would grow.
(I have checked this entry out with the author, and he swears blind that it is all true. And that's good enough for me. - Log)
Also an alternative name for a mag (qv), where the penis is so small that it could fit through the hole of the Polo Mint.
The game played as a child where various participants fill their mouths with saliva and compete to see who can create the longest 'spit dangle'. The winner was the one whose went the lowest without it turning into a full blown 'gob'. The more skillful players would show-off by sucking theirs back up before it hits the ground.
Another excruciating example comes from a poster designed by the school library assistant with hastily drawn pictures of books on it - part of a campaign to encourage use of the tumbleweed-filled facility. The poster featured a tome titled 'Bubbles In The Bath' - not by, as you would hope, the canonical Ivor Windybottom, but by 'B. A. Throom'.
Greeted with a weary disdain and a 'that's shit'.
Greeted with a weary disdain and a 'that's shit'.
No, it was quitsies, for fucks sake! Where the hell do you people come from?
A similar event occured to me after I decided it was funny that my year 6 form tutor had suffered a miscarriage.
"What's this?" I said, before curling into a ball and being very, very still.
"I dunno...what?" would come the reply. To which I would deliver the killer punchline "Miss Moreland's dead baby".
"What's this?" I said, before curling into a ball and being very, very still.
"I dunno...what?" would come the reply. To which I would deliver the killer punchline "Miss Moreland's dead baby".