Childish insult that, in adulthood becomes one of the most cutting things imaginable. Try it. Call someone a berk today!

Many thanks to all the Cockneys who completely missed the fucking point and wrote in to tell us that berk is actually rhyming slang for cunt and very rude indeed, actually. 'Cuntybollocks' is rude. And so is 'why don't you just bloody piss on your nan's bum, you cuntybollocks'. 'Berk', 'nitwit' and 'der-brain' are not. Jesus. - Ponky

Abusing an unfortunate child's unique habit of biting his clenched fist in moments of anger. Taunting will occur on an hourly basis to see who could be the first to break the skin by proxy. His father was dead, so shouting, "Where's your Dad, Steve?" usually worked a treat. When his Mum died, he actually came in the next day. Out of respect, he wasn't insulted for at least a week - but there was obviously new ammunition once it recommenced.

Frazer was married to Betty. Desite his vehement denials of the obvious fact, I put the matter beyond doubt by writing "Betty" on several amall pieces of paper, folding each twice, sneaking up behind Frazer and sprinkling them over his head whilst shreiking "Betty Confetti!" inches from his ear.
Sadly, his eardrums were not perforated. However, he did complain of a ringing in his ears. The ringing of bells. At his wedding. To Betty.

Inevitably there came a time when a teacher would ask the pupils to make a list of their names- with luck it was a supply teacher who didn't know who you all were and would then read the names out. In these cases, it always paid to have some handy rude spoonerism names to pad out the list. E.g.
Betty Swollocks
Paul Smeenis
Mary Hinge
Kelly Smunt
Joe Blobb
Tex Soy
Trevor Nyanalsecks etc.
Not to be confused with more direct humour of names like Mike Hunt, Hugh Jarse etc.

Bag Full Of School Dinner.
Almost every lunchtime during the third, fourth and fifth form we made a BFOSD by pretending to eat our school dinners, but in fact each sneaking spoonfuls into a plastic bag. These creatures were then named and taken out to the playing field, where they developed a personality of their own as they were thrown around until they burst - usually on Wayne.
The best BFOSDs tended to be composed of a base of mashed potato, custard and segments of orange, along with other associated foodstuffs. The acidity of the orange was generally believed to curdle the milk in the custard, turning the BFOSD into a stinking near-lethal chemical weapon.
Early BFOSDs tended not to last more than fifteen minutes or so, and required rebagging at frequent intervals if their lifespan was to be increased. Then some genius suggested putting the BFOSD into a sock taken from the PE Block lost property basket, and a whole new era was born.
Putting a BFOSD into a sock meant that, when the plastic bag burst, the mashed-up food that was its very essence did not escape onto the ground. Instead it oozed into the material of the sock, making it very, very unpleasant indeed, but also maintaining the BFOSD's integrity. This meant that, rather than lasting for an hour or so, BFOSDs could last for days or even weeks before the foul stench of rot caused us to discard it.
With the lifespan of the BFOSD extended almost indefinitely, all sorts of shenanigans ensued. The contents of the BFOSD leaked from their M&S terry toweling home at a reasonably restrained pace; school blazers were frequently dotted with stains, but nothing approaching the full-on 1963 Dallas head-shot stains that bursting plastic bags left.
And so the BFOSD managed to live past the lunch hour until after school when they made their way into Walsall town centre - where hilarity inevitably resulted: thrown onto crowded buses, pushed through open office windows, deposited on the shelves of the local Sainsbury's. We behaved in a manner that brought shame to both our school and our families. But we didn't care - we were young rebels blazing through puberty, and we did it with stinking socks in hand.

The well known practice of looking up rude words in the School Library's Big Dic-tionary also works in the Bible. A quick summary of my findings...

• Song of Songs 5:2-4 contains passages about honey soaked, er, passages.
• Philippians 3:8 has Saint Paul using a bad word. Um.
• 1 Samuel 25:22 has King David using the phrase "he that pisseth against a wall".
• Isaiah 66:11 has a little breast play.
• Proverbs 5:19 has some sound marital advice - plus nudity, rape, besitality and bum sex galore!
  A rich playground for the horny teen looking to spazz out during a dull RE lesson.

Alien who started his one man invasion of Earth in a small primary school in the north east of England. He started his bid for world domination by frightening an eight year old girl in the toilets by saying "Biddy-Biddy, Hello!" After two months of children combing the school field and "butterfly garden" in search of this beast, and several telephone calls by worried parents to the headmaster because their children couldn't sleep at night, it was finally stopped by a school assembly where the existence of aliens was strenuously denied and the by now heavily armed (with sticks) anti-alien sweeps were ordered to stop.

Another hilarious disability insult - this time for the lucky sufferers of spina bifida. Also biffa.

Biff shoes are any utterly unfashionable shoe, preferably large and cumbersome with deep tread soles. So called because of their resemblace to a medical shoe and braces, at the time thought to be worn by people who suffered from spina-bifida.

Standard male reply to the age-old question "How's it hanging?".
A suitable girls' reply was never established. "Fine, thanks" seemed to suffice.

According to the margin notes in my 3rd year English book, big brown brothels only cost 27p.

Inventive rewording of the popular assembly song 'Big Rock Candy Mountain'. Much mirth was caused by the fact that the first verse contained the words 'a burly bum went hiking'. This song was exclusively requested by Ali Mehmet who had manky jumpers and the ability to blow bubbles of snot mixture from his nostrils.

Perfect for situations where your friends were bragging about their new Birthday / Christmas presents. "Oooo," you'd reply. "Big Thrills for Noddy and Big Ears". Noddy and Big Ears being notoriously easy to thrill. This didn't even rhyme.

A fat child. He doesn't have to be Native American, in fact it's probably racist if he is.

Our maths teacher at A-level was a William Phillip Gill. The lack of forethought on the part of his parents was only rivalled by his own. If he'd been a primary school teacher, there'd have been a fair chance that nobody would have twigged that his name was, in fact, Bill Phil Gill.
He had his own theme tune. It rhymed 'Gill' with 'cunt', as I recall.
(I knew someone called Wilfred Wilberforce Willwong at University. Triple Will. He came to England from Trinidad without a faith, studied every religion, and chose Catholicism. Curazy dheys. -Log)

An unfortunate boy in my older brother's year who farted in assembly and ripped his hemorroids. Allegedly.

He apparently had a sister, Emma, who hung around with bus drivers, got 'nonced' by one and is now a bus driver herself. "and still stinks of piss" were my brother's words on the situation.

The swinging flap of chunkmeat that hangs from old women's and dinner ladies' upper arms.

The not-so-superhero identity of class chief mischief maker Scott Leitch. Binky made his first and only appearance one morning when Mr Harris sent Scott to fetch something from the supplies store room. A few minutes later, Scott reappeared with a sack pulled up to his waist and two pencils with table tennis balls jabbed on the ends secured on his head with a large elastic band. He burst into the classroom with a cry of 'Behold! I am Binky The Wonder Slug!' and then hopped off down the hall. He didn't return until after the Head caught him bouncing around in the school garden.

Nobody knows what became of Scott after we left school. Rumour has it that he fights crime in his spare time. Which I suspect he has a lot of.

Placing the smallest bloke in the class in a bin arse-first, so far that it comes up to his knees and armpits, and his hands flap uselessly outside. Then lift the bin, place it on the teacher's desk, and await his arrival. Often, the child would panic, and fall off the desk, leaving him semi-conscious in a pile of rubbish on the floor as the teacher entered the room. This is more incriminating, as it simply looks like the kid went mental in the bin, and lost consciousness through rubbish-related hyperventilation.

Whilst idly browsing through a biology textbook one day myself and a friend came across a picture of a woman in labour.It was quite graphic, the kids head was poking out and you could see everything. All well and good, but when the picture was turned upside down it looked like a little mewling baby with big chunky arms. So funny we had to show the rest of the class and our teacher. Teacher wasn’t chuffed though. She was still pissed of with us for laughing at the siamese twins.

If you left your seat in Miss Windsor's biology class for GCSEs at Wimbledon College, you'd return to find a laboratory implement placed on your stool and a crowd of people screaming that you'd been sitting on that for the lesson, thus getting bum pleasure.

The progression was as follows:
1. Pencils
2. A test tube
3. A test tube rack
4. A bunsen burner (yellow flame)
5. A bunsen burner (blue flame)
6. Retort stand
7. Upturned stool, signifying '4 pronged pleasure'.

We thought this was the pinnacle of implied but unsubstantiated cornhole abuse, until Gettings returned to his chair to discover that he had in fact been sitting on Adrian all lesson, and Adrian was crying.

Small Breasts "Chinese, Japanese, what are these? Bumble Bees!" Large Breasts "Chinese, Japanese, what are these? Christmas Trees!" Breasts, Penis, Arse "Milk, milk, lemonade, round the corner, chocolate's made" Arse, Breasts "Bum titty titty bum bum titty titty bum bum" Suspicions that this latter formed the basis of Freud's Anal/Oral dichotomy were supported by the fact that our local MP at the time was Sigmund's lugubrious grandson, Clement.

In the lazy crazy seventies, everyone wanted to mimic the onscreen adventures of Steve "Six Million Dollar Man" Austin.
Boys would jump off walls, making a scraping sound because it was in slow motion, and run around at ostensibly super-bionic speeds.
Dave Walker took this one step further - by inserting wires down his sleeves and socks, he would take trusted people to one side, show them his ultra-bionic wiring, and tell them that he was no ordinary eight year old boy.
Now over 16, and keen to impress girls, Dave doesn't like me bringing up his bionic past. Which is lucky, as it'd be no fun otherwise.

As written on my second-year desk at secondary school. To this day, the couplet strikes me with its sheer vitality and stark beauty.

'Isn't it your birthday today Nobby?' I enquired of my classmate during an unusually quiet registration. 'No' he replied. So naturally, we all sang happy birthday to him regardless and wished him many happy returns. This continued in every class until lunchtime. We would tell each teacher about the birthday and they were all more than happy to let us sing our congratulations.
On coming back to school after lunch, it turned out an older kid had heard Nobby's happy news and poured a can of coke over his head.