Someone holds up their two forefingers in an X shape and says "Break the cross"; if you separate them, as instructed, they announce: "You killed Jesus!"

A game which simply involves holding your hands up to your face in that way that makes it look like you're wearing glasses, you know what I mean, and pretending that you can see girls' knickers. Also claim that they have wet themselves.

Xandara was a six foot tall vampire woman who had developed the desire to have sex with me and my friend at primary school. We waited a week for this grisly and exciting act, when my mate found some letters on the road from his grandparents. Scrawled in big letters on paper covered in claw-like tears and blood stains, the letters told us that Xandara had been captured by Satan, and that we had to go immediately to Hell and rescue her. That lunch-break we lay down on the school field arms outstretched as if on a cross and fingers touching each others, in an attempt to contact Xandara. Our explanation to the slowly assembling crowd that we were meditating was perhaps too successful - as the crowd joined us, and formed a circle. Even with this added power, Xandara was not raised. What were we doing wrong? We soon forgot about rescuing Xandara until my friend's keyboard broke (a real shame, as it had a cool chinese song among its demos) and we thought the strange noises it was making were Xandara talking to us directly from Hell.

There was more xenophobia in the ethnic minorities. White racism was quite a taboo. The Indian girls would adopt white names. Many wanted to be April, the reporter from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Anyways, they would try to keep up they pretense that they were white. For example, Bina Patel became Sabrina Fartimah (I tell no lies). Then there were the self-titled fights of 'Indians' vs. 'Pakis', during which white friends were frantically recruited to be honorary Indians or Pakis. Wars went on. The teacher was much alarmed, when, in registraion, James Pale shouted out "Yes miss. Glory to the Pakis.". The teacher questioned this, and he said "Are you blind miss? I'm a Paki." He got detention.

Pornography holds a strange place in my memory. The fact that I had no sexual interest in women dampened my desire to see red hot dutch lesbian action not one iota. The reaction to pornography, at least amongst my friends, was frantic disgust. Even the most mundane sexual act was greeted by my friends with an excited "euiur - is it in there? that must really smell," whereas I just felt a disheartening foreboding that one day I'd be doing this myself. More sinisterly, one day I would want to do this. My sex drive never developed to the hysterical toys and chemicals stage. In fact, most nights I can barely be bothered to lie there while someone else does all the work.

A variation on the typewriter. The xylophone is rather more savage in that it requires four people to hold down the victim in a splayed and prone star, and as many people as fancied it are allowed to savagely beat them with maracas, kettle drum sticks, or guiros. Sometimes for as long as ten minutes.
The practice stops when somebody passes out, wets themselves, develops kidney damage and spends the following weeks pissing blood in hospital.