At the tender age of 11 several guys in my year decided that I was shagging the headmistress and so taunted me accordingly. I tried pointing out that if it were true then I had developed much more rapidly than them and subsequently should be looked up to. I got punched.

When a stray rugby ball is kicked towards an unwitting victim, it is considered good manners to shout "Heads!" to warn them. The natural response, rather than covering the head, is to look up towards the oncoming missile, resulting in a comical face/ball interaction and many tears.

Matt, who kicked for the first 15, had honed his skills to the point where he could place a ball into a crowd with unerring accuracy. He also perfected the timing of the cry of "Heads!" so that people would look up at the exact moment of impact.

The practice of putting one's bag on the floor in the chemistry or biology labs, generally anywhere where there is potential danger. Someone would then be required to do a comedy trip over said bag whilst screaming "health hazard" in an attempt to get the bag removed. Practice was stopped when one comedy faller knocked loads of test tubes over and fell on them, cutting his hands to ribbons.

Another way of capitalising on the embarrassment of your victim. Whenever they lose an argument, get angry, or are otherwise shamed, simply hold your hands to their sizzling face and sing Glenn Frey's The Heat Is On. The repetetive lyrics were perfect for this kind of bullying;
Oh-wo-ho, oh-wo-ho
(Tell me can you feel it)
(Tell me can you feel it)
(Tell me can you feel it)
The heat is on, the heat is on,
the heat is on, the heat is on.
Oh it's on the street, the heat is - on.
If the victim gets even more upset, reassure him by singing that "ridicule is nothing to be scared of".

Coined by the headteacher, who found it incredibly difficult to actually engage the pupils in conversation. When walking into a room and being confronted by pupils behaving suspiciously, he uttered 'It smells hot in here' and exited the room. Was adopted by the pupils to determine temperature in the absence of, or in spite of the presence of, a thermometer.

A variation on beats. A comb, usually plastic, would be heated with a lighter and then combed through the victims hair, who would have a burnt scalp and crappy lumps of melted plastic stuck in his hair.

Me and Jamie Hepworth would put our forheads together and stare untill the other persons eyeballs started to bleed together, so it looks like one eye. At this magical moment we would shout the word "Hebrew" at the tops of our voices.

Garden hopping to some. Had a Grand National which lasted over a mile and took retribution on posh kids in big detatched houses. Climbing each fence and hedge was exhausting especially with grown men occassionally in pursuit. Always liked the water hazzards as difficult to see them on other side of fence. Mate broke his leg when he fell into one and, unlike war films, we did leave him, it was better that way. There was also a flat course called the Derby over rows of terraced housing back yards that a competing school used but clearly missed the point of both amusement and class action.

An early example of viral marketing. The people behind Hedgehog crisps, it was rumoured, used real hedgehogs to flavour their snacks. The age-old "well they do taste like chicken when cooked" excuse can be used when sampling a bag of the roast chicken crisps, though this will not get you very far when attempting to explain the distinct lack of hedgehog flavour in the salt and vinegar variety.

Our headmaster, Mr. King, was a keen naturalist, and used to give assemblies using his little Sylvanian Families hedgehogs. He had the whole family. He made them speak. He did all the voices. I think he was mad. Or a paedophile. Or both.

Possibly the first game I ever played. It is named after the noise made when an unsuspecting child puts cellophane packing up their nose, but hasn't learnt to breathe through their mouth yet. In fact, that's exactly what it is. Can be used as punishment for having new shoes.

The telling of a short story in which the final words will have an amusing double meaning. Original example: A man saw a boy sitting on a wall licking his maths kit. He asked his mum what he was doing and she said "Oh, that's just my son - Helix Protractors!". Most convoluted example involved a boy named Spag, who wouldn't play a game correctly. His friend petitioned him to "be a sport, Spag." At this point the storyteller will point to someone's sports bag, which has the words "SPORTS BAG" on it.

Harmless long-term infuriating fun. A greeting towards anyone with a colour-based surname, but more specifically, to Keith Brown. The full format is "Hello Brown, you're looking very (pick colour of the day, ie Maroon) today." After around a year, the colours will become more elaborate (coffee infused taupe), if you wish to avoid repeating yourself. Not being really insulting, this usually elicits a wise and world-weary sigh, which was insufferable enough to make you want to do it again the next day.

Hello Jack! How's your back?
Havent seen you for ears and ears!
But I still nose ya!
Are you still collecting stamps?
I'm still collecting balls!
Whilst reciting these words, deal a very hard slap on the back, twist both ear, pull his nose, stamp on his feet, and finally kick him in the balls.
Your victim will stand still during this entire charade, waiting patiently to tell you his name isn't Jack, and that you're severely assaulting the wrong person.

Mr. Tucker was an excellent teacher, he did kung-fu moves around the science lab and waved his hands through flame-on bunsen burners. Which is why I can't figure out why he made the whole science class say as one, in dodgy accents, "Hello, my name is Lucky and I'm from Africa". Poor Lucky never made any friends.

A song from the playgrounds of Barnsley.

Hello Pakistani,
Does your mother have a fanny?,
Does it smell,
Fucking hell!

Barnsley, incidentally, is stinking full of smelly, shitty white kids who look black, but that's just muck.

Inform a pal they have something on the back of their shoe. when they twist round and kick their leg upwards behind them to see, give 'em a "ooh, hello sailor!"

I still do this.

What not to say when making a prank phone call to a teacher, and your name is Paul Allen.

The end of a black man's cock.

Feel good college kids are always at intersections collecting money for cancer research. They have signs that say: "Help kids with cancer".
Feign disgust at the ambiguity, and say "What? You want to help kids using cancer? What the hell kind of sick fucks are you? Just going around, giving kids cancer? Jesus Fuck, man, you're as bad as the "AIDS Cures Fags" bastards! You want to go to the funeral of some kid who died from leukaemia with a banner reading "LIAM TAYLOR - FIVE DAYS IN HELL, ETERNITY TO GO"? You FUCKS!"

It was considered 'gay' to touch the arse of a girl (or boy) when I was a youngster, because gayness meant a fondness of bumholes to us ten year olds. It was much later that we learned that heterosexual anal sex was most certainly not gay. If it was, then my wife's newfound love of the exhaust pipe would make me more of a homo than a sickening composite of Quentin Crisp's lips with Graham Norton's hair.
Alternatively, you hetero back-sporkers are just closet homos, and simply aren't MAN enough to admit that they are sur l'autre autobus. Always stick with your first answer, faggot. - Mansh

The phrase yelled excitedly by our classmate Ivan as he strolled, er... proudly... through the changing room after PE, his full erection sticking up and outwards inside his underpants but mercifully not popping out over the top.
We were about 15 at the time, so presumably it wasn't his first ever stiffy. It was a testament to his immense popularity in our year that getting a stonk-on in a changing room full of half-naked lads, announcing the fact, and then showing it to all and sundry, didn't get him tormented, physically or verbally, to death in the remaining 3 years of high school.

Kid #1: "Say 'hi' to your knee."
Kid #2: "Hi, knee."
Kid #1: "You just said "Heiney!"
This is funny because heiney is a totally inoffensive word for ass. As innocuous as tricking someone into saying "table salt".

This was emblazoned across every single one of a batch of new rulers that arrived one day, confirming what we already knew - that our school purchased all of its equipment from a distant third world country. For 5p.