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.

Before it was demolished and a brand new music centre was built, the music lessons at Marling School were held in a shit building, called Grafton House.
One room in Grafton House that contained only a comfortable chair. A spectacular design feature of this room was that the door could only be opened from the outside.
So, rumours flew around that this room was where the music teacher kept his stash of mind-blowing pornography. If you thought you had seen sex, then this pornography would put you right, by blowing your mind.
The imaginations of normal children in this situation stretches to a writhing black shape, with a compelling question mark on top. So once a child had become so curious as to go inside, he would be locked inside, forever*, with only a comfortable chair to sit on, and his imagination to wank with.
*Not forever.

The emotional highs of thinking you are winning a highly competitive game of hide & seek can be shattered into terrible lows when you realise that nobody had any intention of ever looking for you, and you have just spent an hour in dusty cupboard whilst they are all outside playing touch football.
Bless.

A friend (who should usually be in a completely different lesson, so that there is no-one missing from the class) would hide in a cupboard until the lesson was 5 minutes in, then start making loud cow mooing noises. When the teacher eventually found where he was, he should just get up and run out. Bizarre, really. This was the same person who at 15 hacked into the school computer network, and put a very basic, (4 picture), movie of someone performing oral sex on there, so that it would appear as soon as someone logged on to the PC. And he could fart at will. Genius.

At our school we used to hide peoples bags and coats in the cupborads of the class we were in. We even used to go as far as wear someone else's coat under our own until they got angry. We also used to throw peoples bags and coats at the top of tall fences, doubly amusing if the zip was open and the items came out all over the place

This unesteemed sixth form college was attended by myself, and the mass murdering Doctor Harold Shipman (and a few others whose names I forget). He was sensationally responsible for the deaths of hundreds of women patients over a period of many years - I am not.

We had a lad called Dave Hill at school. We'd often try and 'recreate' the disaster by getting him worked up about it then squashing him against the wall. All in the best of taste of course...

Every town has one: the long haired biker type with the Leyland van who was 'going out with' the stunning blonde in your third year class.
Can be goaded into action by applying mud to his windows or by shoving fireworks through his letterbox.

Out of your group of friends pick the person who is best at keeping a straight face. Find a stranger and tell them that your friend across the room (the straight face) is severly depressed. He is thinking of commiting suicide. Tell them that the only thing that cheers him up is talking about his famous sister who ice skate. Convince this stranger to go to your friend and tell him they heard he had a famous sister. Once the stranger is convinced it is the straight face friends turn. As the stranger approaches you should look severly depressed. The stranger will say something like, "I hear your sister is a famous ice skator." The moment the stranger stops talking the straight face should yell, "My sister died five years ago today and run off in tears." The expression of pure misery on the strangers face will keep you laughing for hours.

Hilarious primary school gag involving everything you want from a joke for 10-year olds, namely hilarity and extreme physical violence aimed at a third party. A: What month was Hitler’s birthday? B: Don’t know. A: (Shouted in a rubbish faux-German accent) “YOU-LIE, YOU-LIE” (made to sound like “July, July”), whilst slapping the person in the face very hard several times, re-creating the imagined interrogatory style of a member of the Nazi SS during the Second World War. Possibly.

For our GCSE History, all classes only ever studied three time periods: the Russian Revolution, the rise of the Nazis, and strangely enough, the Conserative Government of Lord Balfour, 1901 - 1903. Anyways, the textbook used for the rise of the Nazis was passed from year to year, and on the very first page was a picture of Adolf Hitler as a baby. And of course, there was not a single copy of the book that didn't have a little Hitler moustache drawn on the baby. Even the girls felt compelled to do it. I think showing that picture to the voting German public in the 30s could have prevented the rise of Fascism.

Penned with our janny who looked like Hitler, Headmaster Jock McCaskill, and his deputies Jimmy Flemming and Mr Hamilton in mind...
"Hitler Has Only Got One Ball!
Jimmy - has got none at all!
Jock has... something sililar,
And poor old Hammy has no balls at all!"

This was last aired during the cloakroom riots of 84 when firehoses were used to flood the floor and we took refuge on the cloakroom benches to start singing and stamping. Very soon Jimmy Flemming arrived in his gown and wellies. He didnt say a word but with his stony glare he stared-down 100 of us into complete silence. Every boy in the vicinity was shitting himself...
Thinking his job was done he turned around to walk back to the office - alas, a six-inch greeny hanging from the back of his gown was greeted with a deafening cheer, and thus began more singing and stamping.
Ten minutes later the end-of-lunch-bell rang and we all went to our classes with wet feet.

History : the remarkably preserved remains of Tollund Man did not initiate the holocaust.
English Literature : Shylock did not greet his friends with a hearty "Seig Heil".
Maths : x rarely equals Hitler.
Wayne Radford, I salute your efforts to address the impact of Hitler in modern society, but I genuinely feel your grades may have suffered because of it.

When I was in Year 12, the Sixth Form was required to dress up on certain days for a week for the stupid cause of 'Rag Week'. The day was Wednesday, the theme was Military Day. In my infinite wisdom and lack of forward thinking, I dressed up as Rudolph Hess. Yes, Hitler's friend and advisor. Full insignia, Iron Cross, the works.

What I hadn't taken into consideration was the fact that my Catholic school did indeed have a small, but significant population of Jews. I think they were the ones who stoically stayed sitting when I walked into the dinner hall as close to five hundred students stood, saluted and shouted "Sieg Heil!" I was lucky to get out of there alive, and the headmaster summoned me to his office to question my motives for dressing as a Nazi.

I forget exactly what happened in there, but he branded me a Nazi for the rest of my time at school. Oddly enough though, he signed my application for shotgun licence only last week.

Came about as a result of a game our teacher made us play in the classroom during a rainy day. In it one of us would go up to the front of the class and mime an occupation and we would have to guess what that person's job was. One boy, Jonathan Perera, enthusiastically marched up to the front, placed his index finger of his right hand below his nose, his left hand straight up in the air and began to goose-step around the room much to the bemusement of the teacher. A girl near the front put up her hand and suggested, "John Cleese?" Jonathan gleefully responded, "No, Hitler." Our teacher was obviously not impressed and said that she had been hoping that it would be John Cleese as well, and sent Jonathan outside, into the rain. I should have pointed out that neither "John Cleese" nor "Hitler" is an occupation.

As ugly as a hobgoblin? Fat? Love giving head? Then this is the word for you.

A good spit, either noun or verb. Probably onomatopoeic. Hockling was very popular in the autumn term of 1983, resulting in a playground slick with 'hockle', and stern assembly warnings.

Depressive, antisocial, cynical, self-harming and anti-establishment, Holloway hated everything and everyone, almost as much as he hated himself. He was considered extremely cool, and I was sort of in his circle, by virtue of him despising me slightly less than he despised the rest of humanity. His coolness peaked when he didn't make his A Levels because he missed the bus. It began to fizzle out when he failed a suicide attempt, and took a job in the public sector.

Whn Sam Underhill started going out with a girl called Holly, we all wrote "Holly Is A Slag" on every available surface, piece of paper, computer screen, etc. until they broke up. This happened around the time that she received someone's daubed homework through the post that had been rejected by the teacher, with a note attached asking her to re-do it as it was her fault for being such a slag.

Conan-Doyle's unfortunate but amusing way of saying that Sherlock Holmes said something. To be uttered with sudden loudness during a dreary reading in English class.