Game for two or four players. Requires 1 (one) Armstrong. Split into two teams and pull on alternate sides of the Armstrong, until the Armstrong is broken.

Actually, the girls were indulging in experimental lesbian fantasy, as this frame from "The Adventures of Gwendoline" by John Willie illustrates.

John Doyle - a stereotypical heavy-metal kid with long, greasy hair, unwashed, would have loved Red Dwarf right up to series seven, and who spent ten minutes in front of his wardrobe every morning, deciding which of his 25 identical Motorhead T-Shirts to wear.

1. Whilst dating a girl, he was invited to dinner at her parents. Becoming excited, John enquired of his lady companion - "Can you feel my lovebuzz?"
2. With the same girlfriend, he went to some forest on her birthday. They were sitting down talking when suddenly, he stands up, cock out, with a boner and shouts "HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He then proceeds to chase girlfriend round the forest with his boner, probably all sped up with 'Yakkety Sax' playing in the background.
3. He would only ever phone you whilst taking a shit or having a bath. Which would you prefer? The splash of turd 'gainst wawa? Or the idea that he might be tugging idly at his balls and thinking "HELLOOOOOOOOOOO!"?
4. My mate Ray went to John's house. His mother had a French friend over, called Pierre. John didn't know him. When Ray went to use the unlocked toilet, he discovered John's mum and Pierre have a bath together; giggling, soapy, nude and entirely unapologetic. John explained that it happened all the time. Not the bath thing... his mother having friends over.
5. On a non-uniform day, Doyle made a T-shirt which was spattered in faux-blood and had "PEOPLE HATE ME" written across the front. There is not one person in any school that could pull off that T-shirt without looking, and being told that they looked, a cunt.

Half of these stories are thanks to the fact that girls dating John usually felt so ashamed at the end of it that they had to tell everyone all the stories, as a kind of confessional.

There's this girl that my friend used to go out with, from a different town of course, and on Christmas her dad disappeared. Oh no! Three days later there came a wierd smell - from the chimney. Scream! When the fire brigade broke open the chimney, to find out what could possibly be up there, lo and behold, there was her dad dressed as Father Christmas. Gaspers! You see, right, he'd tried to play a clever trick, but it had shockingly backfired as he had got stuck, because he never thought to inform his wife beforehand, or indeed shout when he became trapped.
This urban legend did the rounds every year, even after chimneys were virtually unheard of, until it became so crippled and tired that even the teller would dispense it with a weary offhand cynicism.
If you hear anyone telling it this year, kick out their sex.

In Coventry, children were too poor to call it British Bulldog and had to invent their own name for it. 'Crop the wanker' was cheerily shouted across the Coundon area as little children's kneecaps were kicked in by 15 bigger boys.

Hurray! We've snuck British Bulldog in, under the wire. Phil will be FURIOUS!-The other Eds.

Jason Moody - a hopeless case. Raised on butter sandwiches (most of which he'd hurl grumpily to the ground) and given to muttering to himself as he ricocheted through life. He eventually got himself removed from mainstream education with a show-stopping performance during an R.E. lesson in which he combined shouting out the (wrong) answers to the piss-easy test we were doing and exposing himself to the girls in the front row at key moments.

The best effects come when one child in your class has a serious bladder problem. Faced with the conundrum of locked toilet doors they will come running back into the class crying, with a pool of pee round their ankles. Sorry, Toby.

Glad to see that the trend for anonymity amongst Toilet Mountaineer contributors has been bucked by Kev here. Oh, and * penski wrote in demanding a credit for the stink-out story and claiming that the LotP login function is gay. Sorry, *penski, but not being able to log in makes YOU gay, not the site. You big gay. - Matt

Did you go to school with Neil Buchanan?

We had a craze for broken stubs of pencil lead, which we hoarded in those oblong metal pencil cases. One day, after inspecting our jealously guarded treasure troves, it finally dawned on us just how far we had descended to a sub-stamp-collecting level of rubbishness, and decided to just flick them at the girls.

Hold on, hold on, Susan. What the fuck is a 'Mood Ring'. I went to an all boys school and have never heard of such a thing. If it magically displays the mood of the wearer, I shall buy one for my wife.