A word I was rewarded for knowing when I was nine. The thing is, I didn't really know what it meant. I just said "ooh, grimace" as an insult based on the McDonald's character. When the teacher asked me what 'grimace' meant, I sort of pulled a face, trying to imitate Grimace. This was right. My reward was to go to the front of the queue to get back into class, which in retrospect wasn't that hot a deal.

The grog pit was a flight of stairs which went down into the cellar of the school at the far side of the play ground. The sport was to find any unattended school bag and with a loud chant of "Grog Pit" the bag was cast down the stairs.
The poor unfortunate owner of the bag then had to descend the stairs while a mass of crazed baboon-like children press against the railing around the top of the stairs to shower them with as many big green balls of spit and snot as possible before they returned to the surface.
If the victim was particularly hated - as most of them were - they were pushed back down the stairs for a second (and sometimes third) shower of phlegm.
In extreme cases - namely, Tony - the usual rule of throwing an unattended bag was circumvented, and the bag was ripped from the victim's arms.

Daniel Grossett was cursed with a lisp from birth. He was cursed with being short. He was cursed, some might say, with being one of only three black kids in the whole school.
Daniel Grossett was able to overcome his seeming handicaps by developing an incredibly violent temper, and would regularly administer swift and bloody beatings to would-be bullies.
Chief among his protagonists was Dale, another of the black kids, who was rewarded for his taunting by being stabbed in the head with a compass. They do say black on black crime is the most common. They're probably both in prison now.

Once a year our junior school headmaster would hand us all a small booklet of black and white photos. The booklet was full of happy little snaps of kids entitled "Sunny Smiles" and the idea was that we could sell our granny, extended family and neighbours one of the cute little shots - all the money going to children's charity. Trouble was, the smilers always looked to be having a better time than us and over night the booklets would be renamed "Grotty Grins." All those happy children now wore bad spectacles and shocking moustaches. I remember being smacked by a teacher who found my defaced copy of Grins. "How dare you scribble on the face of that abused child!" he shouted as he hit me again - which could only have been more ironic if he had been scribbling on my face as well punching it. Still, Granny bought a few from us and I have since become a highly skilled graffiti artist of some stature.

When told to "just grow up" after an act of particularly childish misbehaviour a 13 year old Dennis stood on his chair and whilst making a kind of whooooosh - noise used hand gestures and miming to simulate pubic hair growing at a superhuman rate. He then began frowning and speaking in a comedic deep voice about 'Gardening, gardening gardening' and 'Overdraft, overdrafe, overdraft'. A fascinating take on the perception of adults by children which was completely lost on our teacher who marched him from the room while Dennis was in the middle of grumbling about interest rates.

One who runs around with shit encrusted shoes, with the intention of daubing someone else with it. The name applies to both the game and the prominent participant of the game.

Whilst in detention a group of boys can play "guess the hair", which is not really a game as much as... just putting pubes on each others books. There was no winner. Maybe we were all winners.

A : Guess what? B : What? A : Good guess. Priceless.

To score a point in the Guff Game, you must comply with the following procedure:

Bellow "Witness! Witness!"
This is to let people know that you are on the verge of a potential guff. Witnesses will flock eagerly to your buttocks, crouching to properly appreciate the incoming guff.

Guff
You assembled team of witnesses will provide feedback on whether your guff meets the gruelling standards required for a point. If it's exceptionally noisy, or the smell makes someone gasp "fucking HELL", you're in.

No scores are kept, but success can be measured in the size of a crowd. If you shit yourself in someone's ear, your peers will not attend your anus so readily.

Simon Cowan was a very tall very thin bloke, and as such was prone to unwarranted attacks. As a defence mechanism, he developed the guffy mong. This was a disconcerting fit, heavy on the spazzy flips and Tourette's Syndrome honking and barking. This would disconcert his assailants to the point where they'd simply leave him alone. Proving that even the most primitive societies have an innate respect for the insane.

At primary school we would have little plastic beakers of squash at break time. One day, a girl decided to give the class pet guinea pig a drink by shoving it head first into her beaker. Unfortunately, a vacuum was immediately created, trapping the poor creature as the distraught teacher, surrounded by screaming six year olds, attempted to cut it free with child proof blunt plastic scissors. Needless to say, the girl in question had few friends for her ensuing primary school career.

Trying to laugh without making a noise is a misunderstood and difficult art, much like referees running backwards. It proved too much for five-year-old Richard Knightley, who, upon being told of the colour of Wendy Jones's pants, tried too hard to keep it in and emitted the kind of grunt rarely heard outside of a West Country swine pen.

The result was extraordinary. Layer upon layer of creamy green goodness, dispensed from a nostril into his cupped hands like so much Mr Whippy, before the poor sod was escorted from the class to see the nurse with all around him staring in wonderment and disbelief. Where it came from, we would never know. But the Gush had been born, and we knew we would never be the same again.

If you are male and have a 'Gypsy Racer' bicycle, and you are being mocked for having 'a girl's bike', it will not endear you to your tormenters to matter-of-factly announce that: 'It's not a girl's bike, it's unisex'.
That was a lesson I only needed to learn once, and once only.

A game derived from the rhyming slang of gypsy's kiss, meaning piss. Quite simply, drink four cans of coke and the last one to take a slash wins.

The art of farting into your clenched hand before releasing it into the unsuspecting victim's face. Must be coincided with the phrase 'gypsy's kissssssssssssss.....'