A kid, a couple of years our junior, who used to make the beeping noise of a train door opening, thinking it made him popular. A large group would gather round him and chant 'Make the train noise' repeatedly until he began beeping, then a hushed silence would descend until he had finished. It would then go one of two ways - we would make him do it again or we would disperse whispering 'that kid's a right wierdo'. It was all very surreal.

The stories regarding Legalion are legendary and some of them have "grown legs" and taken on a life of their own, to the point where I believe the story and the truth have taken divergent paths. Some local acts of cruelty and criminality attributed to Legalion, I know categorically to be the work of others.nnThe lesser known "Dus" and not Legalion, for example, was the kid who lost his legs in the train accident, and had a pair of slippers sent to him in hospital anonymously with the greeting "Hope you're soon back on you feet" (rumoured to be from the Oakleigh cops). The involvement of the train led some ill-informed people to attribute it to Legalion. Legalion was riding a bike around, doing his trade mark "You're Bald !" scream at strangers, months after supposedly losing his legs. I know this as a fact because I remember seeing Dus and his dad BOTH in wheel chairs at the Murrumbeena shops. (His dad was fucked up from diabetes). It had a profound impact because I saw this former super tuff shit who previously had everyone in absolute fear of him - now a harmless trolley of junk hangin' with his Dad !!nnDus was the one who pelted a handful of rocks point blank into Mrs Hughes' face. Legalion was rarely cruel or overtly violent towards others, which makes me sceptical about the scissors in the head story, although its tag about defecating on the stairs sounds like his work.nnI therefore intend to only chronicle Legalion feats that were personally witnessed by either myself, or the immediate circle of reliable witnesses like Veli, Mark Symonds etc, or those stories related by Legalion himself. In regard to the latter, whilst Richard liked to impress, I never got the impression that he was bullshitting us. Like an evangelist he was constantly exhorting us to ride the trains with him. Those of us who did, invariably witnessed stunts far more risky and life threatening than those described by Richard as having taken place in our absence. You'll have to take his word for it.nnPart One: Early Train Pranks and "The Tea Party"nnLegalion was obsessed by trains and it never ceases to amaze me that people see train spotter types as benign, boring and safe types. I now think, after witnessing Legalion's antics and my "Puffing Billy" experiences, that these people are perhaps amongst the most volatile and psycho sexually disturbed on the planet. Legalion's train obsession included train sets at home with which he would organise Gomez Addams style train wrecks for his own amusement and vinyl LP recordings of train noises. One I recall, had the rather sinister title of Locos At Night and had a lino cut picture of this big black menacing steam train flying through the rain at night. There was a definite link between trains and Richard's Libido. Craig Guerin recalls the time he went round to play trains and got bored after a couple of hours and went into the lounge room to watch telly. Legalion kept playing alone and after some time emerged, with a bottle of cooking oil in one hand and his dick in the other and began beating off.nnBut these surrogate toys were no match for his real life obsession with real trains. Richard often skipped class to ride the trains, and would spend whole days just travelling "the Met". He had all the "Hex" and "Square" and "H" keys that gave him access to doors between carriages (Funny how I still recall the different types) and most importantly the roof. This allowed Richard to indulge his passion for train surfing. Now a common activity, train surfing was quite new to us in 1975. One odd part of it was that when the pantograph on the roof hit joins in the wires it would spark, and Richard would often come back into the carriage with black sooty looking shit on his hands and neck. I recall asking him if it hurt, which elicited the now oft used classic line about which you inquired, in response. "Nah, it sorta burns me but it doesn't hurt me"nnOne other prank that required assistance was the "Monkey Swing", where two accomplices would hold open the automatic doors with their feet. Richard would then stand in the doorway facing inwards, grab the top of the doorway and swing back and forth whilst emitting loud gibbon style shrieks. The trick with this one was timing the swing so that you swang OUT between the pylons and IN before you got too close to the next one. This led to the legendary event where Richard fell out at Holmesglen and cut his arse to ribbons (although Richard claimed that he deliberately let go to avoid hitting the pylon).nnNOTE: I think this event also contributed to the "no legs" rumour.nnBy far his most appealing prank to me was the Tea Party. At hard rubbish collection time he recruited a team of accomplices who scavenged nature strips for various articles at Richard's instruction. A small coffee table and a TV. An armchair, a lamp and a rug. And finally a cup and saucer. These were all carted to the Holmesglen bridge. (After stopping off at Gardiner's Creek to harpoon some fluro tubes into the rocks and watch them explode) I think Holmesglen was the preferred location because of the many possible escape routes. (I don't know if you remember that overgrown raised up area where kids went to ride trail bikes and smoke ciggies which is now under the South Eastern Freeway?).nnThe items were set up ON THE TRACKS to resemble a lounge room. Legalion was like some fussy interior designer, making sure we put all the stuff in an aesthetically pleasing position. When satisfied with the layout, Richard took his place in the arm chair, "watching" the TV and having a quiet cuppa. The whole scenario with the rug and the refinement of the saucer, was very pythonesque, although I imagine the terrified train driver had a different view as his train bore down on the "lounge room", its breaks squealing and sparks coming off the tracks. At the last second, as we all screamed "Now !" (In fact I began screaming "now!" when the thing was a bout 2 miles away) at Richard, he catapulted himself backwards up and out of the chair as the train smashed the TV and furniture to bits. The TV exploded. We then ran like hell outta there. This event made the Chadstone Progress and Progress Press (local papers) and I became shit scared of getting caught, or worse, having Mum and Dad find out, and scaled back my involvement with Legalion after this.nnThere was a definite sense that Legalion's prank path was a little more extreme than I was comfortable with and would lead to a stint in Turana (Youth detention centre).The Tea Party worried me because the cops came to school to ask a few questions and I was convinced some one was gonna squeal. I think Tyrell diverted them to Oakleigh Tech School. Another common one was to get the Glen Waverley express from Flinders St on Friday night. This gave Richard an uninterrupted journey of around 40 minutes to "surf and swing" or if he was in a more pensive mood, just "flash browns". On the way in at Flinders Street, Richard would have himself pushed out of the door on his skateboard and go careering along the platform knocking people over whilst again screaming "You're bald !" to everyone.nnRichard had some type of mentor, who in retrospect, given later revelations, may have been some type of boyfriend, who worked for V-Line as a driver on the country lines. This bloke was the source of all the keys and inside knowledge. This bloke lost his job because he let Richard dance naked up and down the top of one of those Y-class diesel locos. He was spotted at Diggers Rest, the train stopped and both were arrested. I think this was how he eventually wound up in Turana, but I'm not sure, because there was all that shit about grabbing girls tits (that resulted in his really poor "Identikit" likeness in the paper and that we thought he was never busted for) going on at around the same time. I recall going to a party at Louise Gough's, which was crashed by some tuff shits, one of whom had just got out of Turana. We thought we'd impress the guy and assembled chicks by saying we knew Legalion, thinking his "rep" probably carried a bit of weight. The tough shit gave us a real weird scowl, and said "Legalion ?? He's a fucking poof. He used to give head jobs for smokes in Turana !" then turned away in disgust. So much for impressin' the chicks !!nnTo be continued.

A Dundee ode to the fat.

Fatty cin ye bounce
Cin yer erse cha choony?

Which asks the question "can that bottom chew gum?"

Tranny = old-speak for transistor radio. Our friend Matt, pissed off at having his radio confiscated, was berated by the confiscating teacher, who told him that it "was his own fault for bringing a trannie into school". The rest of the day involved sketching Matt with a hairy bloke in stockings saying "Why can't I come to school with you, Matt? Are you ashamed of me?"

for the child who is intensely competitive but too fat to play sport, there is the Transform-a-Snack race. Packets cost 10p a bag, and up to three bags could be used in any one race. The game is played while walking rapidly, and an adjudicator is required to apply improvised penalties should a crisp fall on the floor. Conceivably, more than three bags could be used, but after three bags of rapidly eaten Transform-A-Snacks, the roof of your mouth is painfully tattered, and it becomes a test of endurance rather than speed.

Our teacher hadn't turned up, so we were making a steadily increasing amount of noise. We eventually attracted the attention of Mr. Cowley, who asked me to report that a supply teacher was required.
I refused a couple of times, showing off, until Cowley became irritated, and threatened me with detention. So I slouched off, grumbling, to find the year head. As I walked past Cowley, and in full view of the class, he smacked my arse.
I was fifteen at the time and horrified for 2 similar, but distinct reasons:

1. Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse.
2. Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse in front of all my mates.

He may well have meant it as a gesture to snap me out of my slouch and speed me up, but to everyone in the class, it was a private, tender moment of bum-fondling between two very gay lovers.
They proceeded to draw cartoons of Cowley doing various foul things to me, culminating in a cartoon on the main notice board, of me being fisted by Cowley whilst wearing a bondage mask and a speech bubble protruding from my mouth declaring that I didn't want him to use any lubricant.

"New Trebor Mints are a minty bit strongerrrr....Stick 'em up your arse and they'll last a bit longerrrr"

Trebor Mints are a minty bit stronger. Stick them up your bum and they last a bit longer.

This is true.

The law states that every pupil who dies during their school career must have a small unhealthy-looking tree dedicated to their memory planted somewhere in the school grounds.

Trevor is the standard name by which tramps are known. Replace the X with the surname of the person you are insulting for a highly personalised Trevor insult. For example, if you are insulting Chris Holmes; "Ooww, Trevor Holmes, can't afford no food, lives in a skip, Trevor Holmes." This could conceivably be sung to the tune of Particle Man, by They Might Be Giants.

More commonly known as a 'setsquare', this pretentiously named weapon could do untold damage to the neck, thanks to its three mighty blades, or corners.

A rumour spread like wildfire, that "a Triad" was waiting outside, at the school gate and was killing anybody who tried to leave. This was "proved" by a first year who's mate had just been beaten up by the Triad, and that he had nunchucks and Uzis in the boot of his car, and everything.
It was later suggested that the Oriental looking man, waiting to collect his child, may not have actually been a member of the Triads.

One step up from the wood block. Conceivably just as boring, the only fun that could be had from the triangle was by watching the clumsier members of the class set the instrument spinning with a clumsy strike on the side. Trying to stop it with their "beater", they would end up making a loud out-of-sync ting.

When stories of third nipples circulate at the same time as you are being taught about dinosaurs, the Triceratit will be born.

Quite simply the coolest thing anyone could ever have. Apart from mag wheels. And the memorised code for infinite lives and level selection on Manic Miner.

In which the object of the game was to break the one school tricycle, accidentally. A common strategy relied in strength in numbers, as no single blame could be laid. This provided ample opportunity for beating the child who had been allowed to ride it that playtime.

From the CBBC's interview with Kym Marsh, who is "about to be a huge solo star"; proof of the need for a nostalgia licence, to stop idiots using it...
CBBC : Did you have a nickname at school?
Kym : I had lots but the main one I think was Trio, that my brother used to call me Trio because there used to be a biscuit years ago named Trio and there was a girl on the advert named Susie who had the biggest mouth and my brother used to call me Trio because he said I had a big mouth, I was very loud. I can't imagine why he thought that.

3 Jacob's Crackers and 2 Dairylea cheese triangles. A double-decker cheese and cracker snack AS BIG AS A HOUSE! Those who didn't eat the cheese triangles saved them for throwing under the wheels of the bus which was, to 12-year old boys, the equivalent of pushing grannies onto train tracks or something.

Futuristic suffix, essential in games involving robots or Daleks.
Usage: put on a metallic voice and declare "I. AM. ALANATRON. EX. TER. MIN. ATE." A warning to people whose names rhymed with Tron, though. "I. AM. JOHN. TRON." makes you sound like a bit of a gaybot, marks you out as a target for ex. sperm. in. ation.
Tron making regular objects sound futuristic and robotic, it's arguable that William's arcade game Robotron 2024 was gilding the lily a touch.

From the age of about 8 until his late teens, my younger brother, Phil, kept a tupperware box of trumps under his bed. I remember Phil first telling me about his 6 week old collection and, me being his senior, I could only congratulate him on this fine antholgy.
He would run home from the swings, excuse himself from Sunday dinner, whatever it took to ensure a safe deposit. Years later we opened it and to this day, I know I'll never smell anything like it (think ammonia with depth) - this was pre-ebay days otherwise I reckon Phil would now be a squillionaire and I, a proud brother.
How much would YOU pay for a box of trumps? Earlier on, I ate a corned beef pasty and I've got the tupperware ready and waiting - Mansh

Hugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert's dribbling spunk
Hugh Puked on Barney McGrew, Cuthbert dribbled on Grub
Trumpton nostalgia lost its charm in 1992, when a bar in Manchester called Barney McGrews opened its doors. This bar was immediately populated by groups of people saying;

• Do you remember Trumpton?
• God, how did it go again?
• How did the windmill go on Camberwick Green?
• No, that was Ivor the Engine.
• Camberwick Green was one of the first spin-offs, actually.
• Mork and Mindy was a spin-off too, you know. 100% fact.
• Hugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert's dribbling spunk!!
• Hugh Puked on Barney McGrew, Cuthbert dribbled on Grub!!!

A wooden measuring wheel on a stick. With this ingenius device, everyone would eventually get their golden chance to measure the length of the playground.
Envious fellow pupils could only look on helplessly, and occasionally point out of the window.

The itinerary of every week at some schools;
Monday's Marriage Day
Tuesday's Toes Day
Wednesday's Wedding Day
Thursday's Divorce Day
Friday's Flip Up Day
Monday
The first person of the opposite sex you touched that day, would be your "spouse" for the week. This of course was dreadful for the girls - imagine not getting the husband you wanted! And dreadful for the boys, who still felt they had to play the field.
Tuesday
You *had* to walk around on your heels all day with your toes pointing up. If anyone saw your feet flat on the ground, they would stomp the them. The only thing that made this awkward and painful day bearable was keeping a lookout for other people's feet to smash.
Wednesday
Wedding day. Exactly the same as Monday. This is what happens when you let us girls take too much of a role in inventing games.
Thursday
Divorce Day. Although optional, everyone would get divorced on this day - no-one wanted to be married over the weekend. Enjoy your four days of freedom, boys - because on Monday, you will be married again.
Friday
Flip Up Day. The boys' contribution to the week. On Friday, the boys would become the "lezzes", and would flip up the hem of any girl wearing a skirt, exposing their underwear. The boys, being lezzes, would take sexual pleasure from this. Eventually the girls stopped wearing dresses on Friday, and the lezzes tried flipping up our shirts. At this stage, Flip-Up Friday developed quickly into Friday Fuck Off, where boys attempting to fondle freshly divorced girls were met with a swift kick in their lesbian bollocks.

A medal for people showing pride in something relatively unimpressive.
"Look at my picture of a house. I haven’t gone over the lines once."
"What do you want, a Tufty Badge?"
Also offer them , an O.B.E., a biscuit, or a big shiny fucking medal

Used when denying someone a pleasure. Based on "tough luck", or "tough shit". Most prevalently used on or after road safety day. "Tufty Club!" you shout.