Abbreviation for the Fascist and Racist Party. A party borne of oppressive tolerance, in a Biology lesson. At the time, South Africa was in the news far too much, and we responded to the tedium of the politics by pretending to hate black people, which is obviously fun. It may comfort you to know that the original members are now teachers, doctors and in the secret service.
Sinister! The former FARP is now there when you're born, it teaches you in school, and it's there when you're ill. And it watches over you your whole life. Hail FARP! - Log

at every school thee is a kid who reckons they are amazing at football rite...? well to nock haribo(the footballer) down a peg or two me and some mates devised a rhyme hardly ground breakin ... but it made him move school though "kids and grown ups hate him so the twat we all call haribo" within a week we had the school chanting it well at least we thought it was funny

One day, I was walking down a corridor near a bathroom, and through the door seeped the telltale reek of a big shit. The smell had one peculiar property; it smelt of vinegar. And that's when I thought of the funniest thing I ever thought. I was going to burst through the bathroom door, and scream 'WHO HAS JUST DONE A GREAT BIG VINEGARY SHIT?'.
Putting my plan into action, I burst dramatically through the door, saw a couple of big Year 12s washing their hands, apologised and left.
Excellent work, Pierre. Have you had the comedic high point of your life unjustly robbed from you? Tell us how funny you really are, even though nobody knows it!

this may or may not be the name of the game in question, but i asked about a specific title, and nobody seems to know of one. anyway...
the basic premise of this particular game is to hold your hand over an unsuspecting (or indeed, suspecting victims head and count, be it out loud or in your head. you are counting the number of girlfriends they have, if they are a gent, or boyfriends if they are a lady. the only way to stop you counting is for them to put their hand over their own mouth, at which point you reveal the number of partners they have. the critical thing here is, the more partners of the opposite sex they have, THE GAYER THEY ARE. you can occasionally get lucky and get a victim who doesn't know the game, enabling your count to reach truly astronomical proportions, and making them the gayest person EVER. but if they don't know the game, then they probably don't care. this game is still played in the north east.

it's american themed. but it's SHIT

You're not fucking wrong, Phil. Even the title sucks dogs' cocks.

I swear I've seen this in a film! I can't remember which film... 'Santa Cop Vacation 6', or something.

Finally, the statute of limitations has passed and the story can be told...

A great peice of knoweledge came to me during my sophmore year of high school. The old rotary vending machines, you know the ones where you put a quarter in and turn the knob, can be jammed. By dropping a quarter into a fork/spork wrapper the quarter will remain indefinitely, allowing you to empty the entire contents of the machine for only 25 cents. With a piece of knoweledge like that great devience was bound to happen...

We went to a local pizza parlor and emptied a machine of about 150 super bounce balls. But what to do with so many bouncy balls... We began throwing them at signs, but this is really difficult from a moving vehicle. So we tried hitting the car we were driving... To our surprise it made no noise... even when it bounced off of the windshield.

At this point it was clear what needed to be done. We headed directly for the interstate. After we were up to 75 mph we released the remaining balls into the wild (out the window.) A beautiful and colorful hail storm ensued splashing over rows of cars and off of sidewalls.

A less lethal and foreboding version of the Grim Reaper. Based on a mispronunciation by Isobel Pollock.
Taunting culminated in shutting her in the drama room and turning on a green light, in an attempt to convince her that her death would be forthcoming.

ant and dec were in the grove patrol.
so were all the boys in primary school when asked to do something they didnt want to.
'i can't, im in the grove patrol' didnt ever work, but it was worth a try.

In the infant playground there was a gap between the hall and the staffroom, with a big black door. The door never opened but when you rattled the handle, something rattled back and we'd all run off screaming.
Oh noes! Ghosts!
But later, when we were in year 6, we were sent to tidy the PE cupboard at lunchtime and we realised that THAT was the other side of the 'haunted' door! When the door handle rattled, we dutifully rattled it back to the sound of hordes of small children screaming.
This story made me feel warm.

There used to be a kid in 6th class who was ''special'' and he used to chase people around asking people where the muffin man was and one time a teacher told him to stop chasing people so he bellowed at the top of his lungs and i quote ''BUT I WANT THE MUFFIN MAN! AAHHH!!!'' And it scared the living duck out of me.

The Law of the Playground challenges you, the reader to decide... TRUE FOREVER? OR LIKE WHATEVER?
The jap's eye game required a group of girls and a group of boys. A girl would dare a boy to insert something into his jap's eye. If he successfully did this, the girl had to remove it with her mouth (preferably not directly with the teeth). If the boy failed in the insertion process, his punishment was not getting a girl's mouth on his nob.
The best I managed was a blade of grass. My mate Robin got a twig in there. Hard as she tried though, (and she tried VERY hard) the girl involved just couldn't pull it out. Robin ended up in tears, and had to go to the school nurse, and then hospital. With a twig sticking out of the end of his nob.
I laughed for around three or four days.
So what do YOU think? An everyday tale of underaged urethra-play? Or retrospective wish-fulfillment from the boy who spent too much time reading? TRUE FOREVER? OR LIKE, WHATEVER?

Jesus. A) Talk about trying to polish a turd. B) POSTING IS ALREADY ON THE SITE YOU TWAT.

Way back when, at the back of our school, on a bank, next to the steps up to the school field, there was a newly planted tree, one of those tied to another stump for support. (Enough commas yet?)

Well, for reasons probably due to it’s geographical positioning (as I said, you had to pass it to get to the school field) some obviously clever and deviant chaps decided this would make an ideal torture instrument, complete with ready made gallery of spectators. The use of it was fairly simple: A group of you would grab whoever you felt picking on, a person holding onto each arm and leg (so invariably this would take 4 ppl as there was no-one at my school, to my knowledge, lacking in any of said appendages). Then the group would splay said victim’s legs and run towards the tree until said victim's "knackers"** banged into it, thereby incapacitating them for the foreseeable future.

Cruel, but efficient. And no, I can’t remember whether I ever took part. Let’s presume not – I’m a lover not a...I mean, I’m a voyeur not a cruel sadistic madman. Oh yes.

**do ppl say "knackers" outside of the north-east? Anyway, it means your bollocks, in case you hadn't guessed.

I am the man from del monte

There was a kid we went to school with called tony and he was heavily into w**nking and could not wait to get with a young lady. We told him that if you made a hole in a peice of fruit and stuck his tadger in there, it will feel just like the real thing.

So there we are sitting in his lounge when he comes steaming in with a orange between his legs, on his old boy, twisting it like a human juicer.

Can't believe he did it..................we called him the man from del monte ever since!!

Terry Lee, Chelmsford Essex

As with most skives, you needed a supply teacher. Only they were foolish/afraid enough to genuinely believe this.
The aim was to have everyone in the class queue up to ask the teacher a question, preferrably not related to the subject in any way.Once they'd dealt with your 'problem' you went round the class and joined the back of the queue with a fresh enquiry.
We managed it for an entire double lesson once. I salute Tim Woods for engineering such a brilliant scam.

In northern ireland a jinx is a lot harder to break it requires the jinxee's name to be said 3 times by 3 separate people so you end up being quiet for a lot longer. Normal jinx rules apply of two people saying the same thing together and first to shout jinx and in the case on a double jinx the first and second name must be said 3 times to break the jinx so you generally don't become free by accident.

In a sixth form where there are only 6 males in one year, it can get hairy. Thus, games must be played when the girls are away. Such as bottle snooker, where the old fashioned drinks that came in different colours (glass bottles of pop you know!) were made to resemble snooker balls (in colour only) and bottle snooker took place on the 6th form room floor. Game went on until stopped or all bottles were broken. Also, Carcinogenic darts - the dart board was remounted to be as high as possible on the wall, and the ocky was the other side of the room. Half way between them was a twin fluorescent light. The aim was to either hit the dart board narrowly missing the bulbs, or hit the metal light support (about one inch thick). Missing caused the light bulb to shatter thus ensuring all carcinogenic centre to be deposited on all underneath. Screwdriver Daggers - when one must throw (ninja style) a screwdriver into the upright of the soft sixth form chairs. Bounce off means you were shit. Missing meant the screwdriver hitting a glass window - which always broke. The sixth Form maze - changing the position of every desk in one room so it became a maze to annoy the cleaners who both had to clean under every desk in a strange layout, and then get out of there again. War of the Cars - everyone (all of us) who pranged their cars had to bring in a few souvenirs of the damage. When teachers away, the desks are lined up and the war starts - throwing the items across the room as hard as possible. Two hospital visits later they cottoned on, when one man, bleeding from the head, outlined how he was hit by a 1978 Fiat Uno air filter... Demoilishment - the art of trashing a desk into small enough pieces to be smuggled into small bags, and later distributed in the local wood, to the sound of both Sex Pistols and Half Man Half Biscuit. Over 12 chairs, 4 cuboards, 8 desks and a large table were destroyed in this manner over a two year period. And finally, Strap the Hippy to the Pole - he kind of had long hair, but that was enough for us to call him a Hippy and tape him to the solitary pole in the centre of the main congregation room. The look on a teachers face when she entered and saw hippy tied with masking tape was always priceless. Better still is the fully recorded conversation on a dictaphone of the headmasters bollocking to us all in his office - later played loud and clear! Oh Oi Boys - were are you now...

During the heady days of the fifth form Summer, there was nothing i loved doing more than pinning down, and stuffing fully Alive Daddy Longlegs' into the mouths of unsuspecting victims, with the help of two able bodied accomplicise, emitting shrieks of badman joy, at the sight of the class geek choking on the aforementioned insect.

Myself and my friends did this twice to one kid that summer, he failed to return to class after that, confused as i was at the time,now i kinda see his point...

Back in 5th grade, I made the mistake of allowing a neighborhood mother to cut my hair. She basically shaved the sides off my hair, leaving an awkward dome of hair left on top, which looked remarkably similar to the end of a dick.

For the next few months, I was known at school as "That kid with the Penis Haircut."

And yes, many of my classmates suggested shaving a small hole in the top of my head.

the basic of basic books about 3 probably incestuous familie who didnt have surnames but who did weat different coloured hats.
there were if i recall correctly, billy blue hat, roger red hat, jennifer yellow hat and her brother. and from somewhere who didnt live on the street came a boy with a green hat. these books had no storyline, ever; biff, chip, kipper and the magic key were far better, even those ones which had no words so you could use your imagination and make them up yourself

After much moaning and yelping, Dan Hobson and Angela Ward emerged from a bush looking red and uncomfortable in year six.
We rushed around them and shouted: "Did you sex?"
Angela gleefully squeaked "Yes, he put it up me", while Dan showed one of his fingers to his mates and got some of them to smell it.

Now, although we were ten years old and the closest we had got to sex was finding half a muddied page of Razzle in a tree stump, most of us still realised that Daniel should have been offering up his cock for smelling.

After accusations that they never really did it, Angela grew flustered and upon shouting "Yes we did, you can still see it", she hitched up her skirt and showed us the string of a tampax that Dan had inserted into her, apparently believing THIS was sex.

This resulted in an emergency tampon safety lesson, after a pupil told a PE teacher she needed a tampax so she could go all the way with her boyfriend after the school Christmas disco.

A few years on, Angela told me she had four of her dad's dildoes in her backpack, and that he often asked her to 'keep them warm' for him...
She also got pregnant 'in her back' in year nine, and later had a threesome in some mud with Ashley Bell and Janice Walsh, which resulted in Ashley getting dysentery.

Poem found on the wall of a "hut classroom" outside the school.
Baa baa baa, the sheep is in the field.
Baa baa baa, he's keeping his eyes peeled.
Baa baa baa, he's feeling kind of funny.
Baa baa baa, he's looking for his mummy.
The poem then becomes more broken in style, perhaps reflecting the panic of the young sheep. It continues;
He spots his mum in the corner,
He runs to hug his mummy,
But it's not her!
It's a great big rock!
The poem then climaxes with;
Oh no!
No-one can argue that this is the best poem ever.

my name is edward boganni i have a sicness it is called aids. becasue i have this ppl say i am african therefore i am black therefore i am cool so now all the males at school have aids;)
raar. think bout it... and your next

MINE ALL MINE

at school there was a boy called martin who was famous at our school for the biggest skidmarks that you could see them through his pe shorts ironicly his surname was skidmore

My schoolmates always called me George Torge. WHich may not sound bad, but George Torge was the name of a convicted pedophile in my town, who bared a striking resemblance to me. And to make things worse, when the teacher found out, he did exactly the same..

How can Ben Vesey be explained? Ginger, small, weak but surprisingly violent. His college story is a promising one.

1. He breaks various computer in an attempt to 'protect himself from airbourne objects'. Nails,screws, bens own bag. Whatever was closest

2. He loses all possible respect he couldve earnt the very first day by telling us our music sounded like 'A demented horse with a cock up its arse'. Being a vesey he'd know such a sound

3.During breaks we were rather planning on playing Counter Strike. I notice jay has melted chocolate in his hand, I chase ben with it. He genuinely beleived it was shit. He runs into the Counter strike organiser. rips his 80 pound armani jacket.Breaks into a fit of tears. Not to mention his other outstanding debts with us

4. First day, hes offered a cigarette. He breaks it in half and walks away. Way to score points there

5. EXTREMELY homophobic so must so, he beat me round the head with a pool cue for simply walking behind him
oh how we exploited that

Ben vesey was and is the stuff legends are made of. in short, the kid you love to hate