A group of boys sits at a table while a girl goes around under the table giving blow-jobs at random. The object of the game is to keep a straight face.

You know what? This didn't happen.

The climax of each playground game of A-Team would involve Stuart Lazenby and I replaying the highlights of our adventures in much the same way that the closing credits of the series did. Mimicking the way in which the credits would punctuate each action sequence with a pause, we had to interrupt ourselves mid-explosion or half way through a death-defying jump to "stop for the words". Unfortunately, Ross Millin was unable to "stop for the words" when pushed off a concrete bench by Stuart's Mr T.

My favourite school bus song was 'stop the bus and eat a wee wee'. I loved it so much, my hysterical reaction would often result in slightly bemused looks from fellow passengers. Much the same look, in fact, that my American boyfriend gave me when I attempted to explain my Scottish childhood and sang it to him at the age of 27. He rather furtively suggested that perhaps I'd got the words wrong, and shouldn't it be 'Stop the bus I NEED a wee wee'? Oh, the shame.

Used to describe the best of something, after the ultimate Action Force figure, Storm Shadow. To whit: dark blue Nike air max were the Storm Shadow of trainers.

Lesser souls had to content themselves with his good but not as rare brother, Snake Eyes (both of which I had, making me great).

Pointless time-filling Geography exercise compulsory for every child in Britain to perform at least once. It involved writing down the registration plate of every car in the chosen street.

Come to think of it, Ken Livingstone didn't have to spend all that money on fancy cameras around the congestion charge zone. He could have just dispatched class 5 from the local primary.

Ask the class muppet "are you strong?"

In a bid to win friendship they will say yes. You then bring up a large greenie, gob it on the floor and ask them to pick it up.

Has Catch-22 potential. (Try eating a Mars Bar and drinking some Coke to give the greenie added string.)

Game for two or four players. Requires 1 (one) Armstrong. Split into two teams and pull on alternate sides of the Armstrong, until the Armstrong is broken.

A short-lived game invented by a warped individual (probably me). Knockout wrestling tournament where victors remove items of clothing between rounds. Ended when at the start of the final round, myself and my friend Simon (both clad only in Y-fronts) suddenly recoiled in horror as we realised the flagrantly homosexual nature of the exercise.

The nearest we had to a black face at school was Stuart McCabe, who was a bit swarthy and might have had a single exotic forebear at some point. But it was enough for the stereotype to take hold. Hence the graffito STUARTY AND HIS 12" - BUT HE DOESN'T USE IT MUCH AS A RULE.

Stuart used to buy a large portion of chips. We would only get one if we used to clap like seals. If we did, Stuart would throw us a single chip and shout "Stuart Rations!". This blatant power fantasy seemed perfectly natural.

The end of the 80's brought recession and poverty to many. But one kid at our school had it worse than most.

Our very first PE lesson at secondary school. 35 kids crammed in the changing rooms as our new PE teacher asked Stuart why he hadn't put his trainers on.
He explained that his parents couldn't afford any, and then produced from his bag a pair of red shiny wellies cut off at ankle height. These were to be his trainers.
To top it off, he later started cycling to school on his mum's brown Raleigh Shopper, wearing the same red ankle boots, because they couldn’t afford to buy him a bike either.
We felt sorry for the kid. But not sorry enough not to take the piss.

Variation of tig (also tag, dobby), where the person who's been tigged (also tagged, dobbed) has to stand still, and can only be freed by having someone crawl through their legs. The only reason anyone would risk their own mobility by attempting this is (a) if they are your friend, (b) if they are desperately unpopular and think maybe that you will thank them for it later, or (c) if the bristle of thigh and calf against shoulder is something of a thrill to them.

Here we come,
walking down the street,
We get the funniest looks 'cause,
We've got no hands or feet,
Hey Hey, We're the Stumpies...
And so forth.

Stumping was a well-loved summer activity at our school. The leader - and pivotal stumper - was Kev Jones.
Kev Jones was born with one and a half arms; the half ended in a smooth stump above the elbow. Kev would nominate a victim, who would be chased around the school field. Once caught, they were held down, and had Kev's stump rubbed in their face. Stumped!
It's heartwarming to see a boy so utterly at peace with his disability. Although it is somewhat equivalent to a man with a three inch penis stabbing it in your eye. Which pretty much sums up my weekend. Wahwah. - Log

Serene was a very stupid girl, several years younger then me. She was of Asian descent, had a disproportionately sized head, and was very, very stupid. She would be teased by people asking "Serene, are you stupid?" to which she'd reply "Yes". She'd get asked that question up to twenty times per break time. She never once cried.

Verbal trap. Asking a victim if he wanted something, you would then deny him with a rhyme. eg: Do you want a sweet? Yes Suck my feet! Do you want some jelly? Yes Suck my belly! Do you want a hat? Not really Suck my cat! Do you want a punch? No Eat my lunch! O.K. Oh.

Once a pupil has pushed a teacher to the edge, causing them to hit or throw something at said pupil, it is the moral duty of the rest of the class to chant "Sue! sue! sue! sue! sue! ..."

When you first start chemistory lessons you cannot be trusted with real chemicals it case you hurt yourself or throw them in someone’s face.
Hence you can do 'litmus paper' type experiments on Suger solution. The fact that the paper does absolutly nothing when put in the liquid proves without doubt that it is not acid or alcali but just water with suger in it.

The spelling has been untouched on this one because of the delightfully phonetic "chemistory." See also "skellington" and "chimbley".

James Ward was very short. James Ward was very strange. He often used to mumble obscenities during lessons, or storm out of classrooms arguing with himself.

When he failed to get a mark he thought respectable in spelling, he committed suicide.

He did this by standing on the bottom step in the playground, and announcing in a loud voice: "I hate you all, and I'm going to die." He then plummeted the eight or so inches to the asphalt below, and lay motionless.

He remained motionless for the rest of break, no matter how many people kicked him or stole things from his pockets, because, you see, he was dead. At least until break-time ended.

A 'lucky contestant' would be selected at lunchtime and was made to stand with their arms out to the side while everyone in the class hung their bag on his body in a buckaroo style. However, the contestant wouldn't fling upwards in the air, they tended to collapse to the floor with a desperate plea for air instead.

love from peter.

Thanks Peter, we love you too. X

A very rich, and very homosexual man who lives in a palace made of rubies and slaps his face in surprise at the misadventures of his subjects. (See also sultan sheik)

The right-hand man of the Sultan of Browneye. Sultan Sheik was by no means a rich man, but had a warm heart. He was the stabiliser wheels to the wild, careening Grifter that the Sultan of Browneye rode to Capersville, Arizona every week. Was married and heterosexual, but tolerated his frequent punchline buggerings with a "well, what can you do?" shrug.

If you can organise it, it's well worth getting everyone in the class to put on a pair of sunglasses while the teacher is looking at the blackboard. Top hats and red contact lenses is even better. You could also give the teacher a tour of the world, if you have plenty of room under your desks. A string of onions and a beret one time, a three cornered hat and a bockwurst the time after. I would challenge any teacher to get genuinely angry at that.

Super-heroes have been quite the thing recently, and showing unusual popular awareness, our local church decided to surf the zeitgeist.
Children attending church days were no longer sub-roleplaying gorks. They were Super-Heroes who attended Mission HQ (the village hall) to receive top-secret (cos no-one bothered going) assignments!
This rebranding of the church was backed up with a series of A4 posters containing all the vaguely hero-related clip-art the vicar could throw at it.
Needless to say, with a single stroke of the pen, these posters were amended to offer the children of the parish a rare strain of Super-Herpes.

We had a supply teacher who was a druid. Two weeks of constant abuse, and the poor gimp left. Heh. Mind you, that's not a nasty as the German teacher who left shortly after we discovered her miscarriage.