A chant to be heard around the playground after lunch... those who wanted to "join us" would link arms with the end person and join in the chant. We never actually got to play "Army" so I cannot tell you the rules or objectives. It was always time to go in by the time we had enough people. Even though we didn't know how many people you needed to play Army, as we had never played it.

A variation on "we're playing army, who wants to join us?". A line of boys would link arms and march across the playground chanting "We Walk Straight So You'd Better Get Out Of The Way!" their legs kicking out in front of them in a cross between the Can-can and goose step. Children too slow or too stupid to move would be kicked. Eventually the line would reach the end of the playground, one of the downsides of walking straight was that it made turning round very difficult. Chaos ensued.

I am the most pathetic bully ever. All I did was steal one epaulette off her winter coat and hide it in the pocket. And call her 'Susie'.

…Or, A Rather Upsetting Story From a Fifty-Year-Old Woman Inadvisedly But Heartfeltedly Seeking Some Sort of Catharsis on a Whimsy-based Internet Site.
We hope you all feel terrible now.

The boys loved me, and the girls hated me. I am fifty years old now, but when I was nine years old, I was the first girl in the history of my school to wear a bra in Grade Five. They were cotton then, with metal hooks, and pointed...Beverly Hillbillies was big back then, I had long blond hair...I became the immediate focus of all the boys attention, being yelled at with "falsies" each and every turn...I made the big mistake of replying "I don't wear falsies." I got a big guffaw, well prove it...I guess they expected me to lift my bra...this was aside from the boys always pulling at the straps. One day leaving school, I noticed a crowd of boys gathered..."You are going to prove that you are not wearing falsies", I knew I was in big trouble, I ran...I ran, and I almost made it home, but I was knocked down, and about twenty guys put their hands up my bra and got a good feel...oh this was about 1963 when all the world was full of prim and proper people...

If enough primary school children stand together and chant whilst looking at the sky, they can actually control the weather. I know this to be true, because when it was raining, the whole school would stand looking out of the window chanting "rain rain go away, come again another day". When the rain eventually stopped, we marvelled at our success. The same effect was also occasionally observed with clouds.

Some masochistic children would claim they had more power than most and would stand outside on their own on a sunny day chanting for rain, which would result in them being punched. But the most dangerous abuse of our weather controlling powers occurred when the class would stand under the large Horse Chestnut tree during conker season, looking up into the branches and chanting for wind. As usual, it worked, and three children got black eyes. The tree was chopped down during the holidays, and so the school was saved from future hurricanes.

A haircut that has a "step" in it at about ear height round the back, so that instead of tapering from long to short the transition was sudden. Inexplicably fashionable for a short period in the early nineties, up until a few days before I had mine done.

Also see: Mackenzie Crook’s hairdo in The Office. And the rhyme "There’s a BAS-in errigATION, and it’s RUINING the NATION." (Errigation sounded like an important word at the time. It was intended to mean "trend" or "epidemic". It actually means, um, nothing. I made it up.)

The practice of forcing the gusset of one's (or another's) underwear between the buttocks to create a visible cleft. Particularly amusing if inadvertantly caused by high waisted trousers. Walking with a wedgie is "Chewing cheese".
Variations include Skidders McKenzie, based on the gold watches (q.v.) you would gain from a severe wedgie

In my infant's school we had a lethal set of rough concrete play equipment fixed to the playground. One such piece of apparatus was the traditional 70's concrete boat. It was divided in the middle by two planks of wood. We designated one side as 'wee' and one as 'poo'. The game generally consisted of getting someone in either half and then running around the boat shouting 'you're in poo/ wee' and laughing at them. Variation was to all trot around on the edge of the boat or on the planks trying to push each other into the wee or poo....and then shout at each other.

The middle water fountain on the playground at Hillbrook Infants School dispensed pure wee. Anyone drinking from the middle fountain would have stones thrown at them, and 'Wee Tap' screamed in their faces.
On the hottest days in summer, massive queues would form for the other two taps. The Wee Tap was always free, if you dared...

Childish. It's usages include; Childish acts are to be met with cries of "Wee!" As an adjective; "God Jim, you are so wee!" As a reply to an insult; "Oh, wee"

Some people are urban legend magnets. I knew one girl who'd been accused of getting a frozen weiner "stuck up there" one week, and clearly didn't learn her lesson, as the next week she tried to entice her dog up there with peanut butter.
You'd think the dog would've been happy enough to eat the weiner out, but no - this girl had put the fucking kitchen up there by the time we'd finished.

Huh, call THAT 'Weary disdain'? In one of our early food technology lessons, we were told to design menus for a fictional restaurant.

The highpoint of this lesson was when we convinced our nice but naive friend Becky that 'spunk' was in fact a type of cheese and she duely put 'spunk sandwiches' on her menu and handed it in. THAT, my friend was 'weary disdain'.

Rather feeble comeback to the pupil's comeback to the original question "Do you do that at home?"

What David Jones ended up with when we got bored on yet another fucking trip to the local country park to sift the pond for poxy whirligig beetles and cunting caddis fly larvae.

To be unfashionable. "Fila trainers went out with the dinosaurs." When applied to people, such as in the phrase, "Kim Wilde went out with the dinosaurs," this can create a strange image of Kim Wilde briefly dating a Stegosaurus. This was my first interpretation of the phrase, and led to confusion when it was applied to trainers, coats, and television programmes.
Either I'd got it wrong, or dinosaurs would fuck anything.

Yet another no-win scenario. Yes - then run around dancing, singing - you are happy, you are gay. If they say no, run around, dancing, singing - you weren't born with a penis - you are gay.

A standard example of what Bill Cosby might call inter-generational rhetoric.
When walking into a form room without closing the door behind you, the teacher may ask this of you.
The best way out of this so far is to say, "no, a crackhouse," which I came up with all by myself.

In Primary Year Four (age 9) we had a teacher called Miss O'Toole who was a bit short sighted. So short sighted was she that just about anything would be accepted for the Nature Table. My offering was a turd (my own in fact) in a Roses Lime Marmalade jar filled with sea water. This was labeled "Whales Brain" and took pride of place on the Nature Table. It was still there when my sister followed on the next year.

A drama class game. Played in pairs, person A would ask person B "What are you doing?" and person B would respond with anything, be it "playing a trombone" or "flailing my arms as if without motor function". Person A then had to mime whatever B had said.
The game was lent a spicy edge when one plucky can-do player answered "your mum", leaving his friend with no option but to mime doing his own mother.

A: What are you eating under there?

B: Under where?

Hilarity doesn't just ensue, it's positively guaranteed.

The standard response to a teacher's question 'what did I just say?'

Something your mother may well say when you bustle in from primary school demanding a cheese and marmite sandwich and WHEN IS ANDY CRANE ON?
The correct response to this is a dismissive flick of the wrist, with "I had her killed for her outrageous insolence".
This exchange with my mother continues to this day, except now the demands are for my uniform to be ironed. And cheese and marmite sandwiches. The correct response is now "She forms the most recent chapter in a sorry saga of murdered slaves, all of whom asked that very fucking question".

At primary school we were privileged to see a play about pirates performed by semi-professional actors. Nicholas, the fattest boy in the school, kept heckling, saying "That wouldn't happen on a ship". After he'd said this a few times, one of the actors got so irritated that he stopped acting and said "How do you know that?". Fat Nick replied in a smug nim nim nim tone, "Because my dad lived on a ship for 5 years". To which the actor replied "And what was your dad, son, a barrel?".

And so "Fat Barrel Nick" was born.

A way of tormenting a victim with no outstandingly bullyable attributes.
The bullies would run around the playground, pick a target and scream:
What we say is what you are -
you're a NAKED BOOBIE STAR!
In retrospect, there are far worse insults than that. And in all fairness, some of them have indeed gone on to become naked boobie stars. Who's laughing now?

Flawed response to any insult. The planned exchange runs thusly:
Kid A: You're a gay.
Kid B: What you say is what you are.
Kid A: Touché! I am confounded.

One problem is the literal interpretation... leading to this improbable exchange:

Kid A: You're a gay.
Kid B: What you say is what you are.
Kid A: What, I'm a you're a gay?

The more fundamental problem is that you're allowing the other person to say "Oh, in that case, fantastic sexy stud man train driver". Imperfect and to be avoided.