The children of divorced parents generally react well to the implication that they caused the divorce because they were an unwanted child, and that neither parent wanted custody.

In year 8 CDT we had to design, make and 'market' a product of our choice. My group came up with the DIY Surgery Series.
The DIY Vasectomy Kit consisted of a razor blade to perform the operation with, a sewing kit to patch yourself up with (different colour threads available for the man about town), a can of premium strength lager as your anaesthetic, and an instruction manual.
The artwork was fairly good considering none of us could draw anything but knobs, which we were banned from drawing despite our pleas that it was vital to the project.
The kit proved to be quite popular, although the teacher confiscated the can of Stella so that we "wouldn't get caught with it." We later went on to design more DIY surgery kits for our own amusement and I actually gave the DIY Vasectomy kit to a friend at Christmas once.

Classic Catch-22 for those who have got past their revulsion of the opposite sex. More vicious male asks male he wishes to kick the shit out of: "Do you fancy my bird?" Answer yes : "Well she's my fucking bird" - you get a pummeling. Answer no: "What, you think she's ugly?" - you get a pummeling. Answer well obviously yes, but she's your bird, and I respect that - "Are you being clever?" - you get a pummelling.

To perform this trick, go up to someone with your hand over your mouth while making the quotes sign with your other hand and ask someone (preferrably a teacher or dinner lady) "Do you like Sam Fox?". Utterly mystifying. What was going on? It was the bigger boys doing it but what the hell were they doing? (a.m.) Answers please, to the usual address.

A question asked to any youth naïvely unaware of the manifold ways in which sophisms could be employed in English to imply that he shags grannies.
A : "Do you like to shag old grannies?"
B : "No"
A : "Well, why do you do it then?"
The correct answer is "I don't shag old grannies". A useful exercise for Year 9 pupils.

Offer to read your victim's fortune. Children cannot resist this. Take their hand, palm upwards, and begin to run the palm with your own palm. Ask a series of questions, as though you are gathering the necessary information for your predictions.
The accepted sequence is
* Do you live in this town?
* Do you live in a house?
* Does it have a kitchen?
* Does it have some stairs?
* Does it have a bathroom?
* Does it have a toilet?
* Do you use toilet paper?
The victim will answer 'yes' to all these questions. Ask them slowly to create an involving and eerie atmosphere. After the last question, simply say "I don't, I use my hands." Another success!
Note: If you are tricked into the victim's role, and you are aware of the procedure, you may effect a daring reversal by answering the last question with "No, I use my hands." Blockered!

A woeful cliché posed by clueless teachers when they see you writing something unrelated to study, and probably childish. In this case, I had just written "tits bum fannies knobs" on my neighbour's exercise book.

My mate, already tolerating my childishness, fixed Miss with a look of limitless contempt, sighed, and said 'Not really, Miss.'

But Miss was made of sterner stuff. She picked up the book, and read the four words out with such undisguised relish - "tit... BUM... fannies... nooooooobs..." even contriving to give the word "knob" five syllables.

The class went wild for this reading, and my friend was given weeklong kudos. Which is a bit unfair, considering I wrote it.

Dobble is cum. The dobblemonger produces this cum. Dobble is not a symbol of fertility and one vital half of the miracle of life, it is a sign that you are some skanky dobbler who dobbles so much you've got dobble on your shoe.
"They dobbled in the darkages, they dobbleth now, they shall in the future dobble with metal gloves."

The arena was constructed of fifteen or so chairs in a circle. A luckless "volunteer" (or sometimes a stupid hard kid who wanted to demonstrate the full extent of their stupidness and hardness) would place himself in the playzone. Their task was to get out of the circle while everyone sitting in the chairs would try to prevent them from escaping by kicking them. An interesting variant involved the use of a long line of tables as the arena, with the chairs placed in normal working positions (but on both sides of course) and the volunteer crawling around underneath. This had the advantage that if a dinner miss came along everyone could pretend that they were just sitting down while they continued to boot the volunteer into oblivion. Dr Marten boots were particularly popular amongst senseless hard kids at the time, owing to their durability, weight and ability to withstand repeated impacts with no ill effects, hence the name "doccer kill". (cf sea of legs)

The school library has a window that faces the science department's prep room. One wintry day, the gaze of a fellow pupil studying in the library landed upon the lab technician. The lab technician who had assumed that he was utterly alone.

When he looked up and saw his audience, the shock in his eyes confirmed it all. Four reliable people saw it. This was the birth of Doctor Tug.

If the "pull my finger" jokes are wearing thin, simply fart into a half-full plastic milk carton, seal swiftly, then present to the nose of your victim, saying - "Does this milk smell off to you?"
This is a kind of snaf-tache lite, for people unwilling to put their fingers into their anus for a joke.

A strangely feeble catch 22 where the victim is asked "does your dad drive a vulva?" Whether you mishear "Volvo" for "vulva" or not, and whether or not your dad drives a Volvo, the idea of your father driving or not driving your mother's vulva will amuse only a few people. The rest will just laugh at you because it directs attention away from themselves. Image can be enhanced with the idea that whilst driving your mother's vulva, your father "parps" her breasts like a poop poop horn.

A trick requiring a friend and a younger pupil. Older Boy A would tell Younger Boy all about Older Boy B's fantastic piano playing grandfather. Younger Boy will listen because he is being spoken to by an Older Boy. Older Boy A will then suggest that Younger Boy approaches Older Boy B, as he is immensely proud of his grandfather, and will gladly tell you more. Younger Boy, to be fair, probably has no interest in Older Boy B's grandfather. However, he is being let into something new and intangible, and is probably thinking that having friends in the years above will make him immune to all forms of bullying. So he will approach Older Boy B, and timidly ask about his amazing grandfather pianist. Older Boy B has, of course, been fully briefed, and will throw an outrageous epi fit, screaming that his grandfather's hands were blown off in the war. Are you taking the piss? Are you fucking taking the piss out of my hero grandfather? Bingo - one tearful, terrified, confused and unhappy little boy. Result.

Apparently some lads in the year above would collect dogshit (or sometimes rabbit droppings), bake it with mint and try and pass it off as a block of cannabis, and thus sell it to gullable pezzas. Quite clearly a lie, due to the fact that dogshit smells no matter how much you try to mask it, and that only the dirtiest jip would consider picking the stuff up.

Originated from Nick Stephen's first LSD experience. Camping out in the woods, Nick is seized by the uncontrollable urge to become Muhatma Gandhi and relive his epic "salt march to the sea". We had learned about this the day previously in History class. Wearing nothing more than a towel, Nick disappears off. He returns some hours later to announce that he had taken control of a JCB, run over a workman's shed, crashed the vehicle into a ditch and caused thousands of pounds worth of damage to Cornwall's budding windfarm scheme. This display of thuggery was totally out of character with Nick's adopted persona, we argued. He didn't appear to care.

... when Harry's around,
or you might get a penis up your bum,
don't be silly, he hasn't got a willy,
you must have mistook it for his thumb!

As far as I'm aware, Harry had a fully functioning penis, but the very fact I find myself reflecting on a penis at this developed stage in my life identifies me as a bender, so I wouldn't trust my word as far as I could suck my own arse out.

The primary rule of the nuclear back-packs in Ghostbusters translates well into a toilet game where you both piss into the same bowl. If you do cross the streams, you must both squeal as you undergo an imaginary process of total particle reversal. This means getting a lot of piss on the walls, so it is best not to cross the streams.

Said by the wanker in the middle of a crowd of people waiting to get through a door. Can be followed by "I'll sign autographs later". If said by a popular kid, it was sickening and offensive. If an unpopular kid tried it, he was punched by the popular kid he copied it from.

An odd paradox; the more people singing this to a fellow pupil who is crying, the more they cry. Absolutely baffling.

A self-fulfilling prophecy, when repeated often enough. The victim will be so starved of human interaction that they will, eventually, become psycho.

Never point out a big human turd on the school playing field to the hardest kid in the class and say "Ahhh Dean, you could've waited!" (especially when the PE teacher has said "Go to the fields I'll be there in 5 mins.")
As Paul Talbot found out, Dean will sit you in it and you'll have shit smeared all over the arse of your red shorts.

The thing that you were touching that you couldn't afford was usually a dirty parka with matted fur that smelt of wrong milk that had been handed down from smelly, hard sibling to smelly hard sibling. You were usually touching it out of necessity rather than choice when caught up in the everyday chaos of trying to board the school bus.

"You may have heard," said Mr Delaney, "that some of the older pupils have a nickname for me. It's donkey, because of that song called 'Delaney's Donkey'. Have you heard it?"
No, we hadn't.
"It is rather funny, you know", he said, only twitching a little bit. "So, this is your one and only chance to call me donkey."

It absolutely, incontrovertibly wasn't.

when fully opened back upon itself, some classroom doors create a kind of tiny triangular cell, made from two corner walls and a door. An unpopular pupil may be safely contained in this cell. Then, every single school bag within reach may be hurled over the top, crushing the victim, and usually making him scream in a wild "drowning" panic.

A harsher version. If someone is caught passing wind, a yell of "doorknob" will allow everyone else in the room to have free hits on the offender until that person touches a doorknob. Immunity is granted if they can say the entire alphabet before someone catches on, and yells 'doorknob'.