| Report for griff . | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 19 |
| Pending stories (hidden) | 7 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 26 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 15 |
| Summary | Could Try Harder |
Well yeah, but gay also means like, noncey or twat-tacular, or wanky, or nobalike. Anything irritating is gay as well. Oh, and saying "your mum" is gay.
Using tippex and black pen:
Adidas= bad ass
Coooooool city, until you say it out loud and it becomes "bad arse." Not quite as sexy.
Adidas= bad ass
Coooooool city, until you say it out loud and it becomes "bad arse." Not quite as sexy.
A trip to Yemen requires the following:
1. A coat to cover the traveller’s head, so that he can’t see. You must then hit his head a lot, generally a constant, reasonably gentle slapping.
2. During the slapping the travel guide informs the voyager that he is "going to Yemen", where he must "demand the release of Muhammad Akbar". Meanwhile, keep saying the wise words "Yemeny Yemeny Yemeny".
3. Two assistants hold the coat in place while the tourist is carried around, upside down and spinning in all axes.
4. He should be left in a new and interesting place to pull the coat from his face. Wherever you left him, for the purposes of this exercise, is “Yemen”.
Not that cruel, not painful, just baffling.
1. A coat to cover the traveller’s head, so that he can’t see. You must then hit his head a lot, generally a constant, reasonably gentle slapping.
2. During the slapping the travel guide informs the voyager that he is "going to Yemen", where he must "demand the release of Muhammad Akbar". Meanwhile, keep saying the wise words "Yemeny Yemeny Yemeny".
3. Two assistants hold the coat in place while the tourist is carried around, upside down and spinning in all axes.
4. He should be left in a new and interesting place to pull the coat from his face. Wherever you left him, for the purposes of this exercise, is “Yemen”.
Not that cruel, not painful, just baffling.
If bags full of school dinner become boring, steal sheeps eyes from the biology lab and sling them around until they burst. The black ooze in the middle is... unpleasant.
A simple game. Push all the desks together in the middle of the room, close all the blinds and doors, and jam chairs in all the gaps at the sides of the desks and stuff.
Nominate the beast and give him a heavy ruler. The beast begins captured under the desks. Everyone else (the beastkeepers) would try to stop him escaping by holding the desks down, all the chairs in the way, and so forth.
When the beast finally did escape, he'd run around hitting everyone until we got bored.
Nominate the beast and give him a heavy ruler. The beast begins captured under the desks. Everyone else (the beastkeepers) would try to stop him escaping by holding the desks down, all the chairs in the way, and so forth.
When the beast finally did escape, he'd run around hitting everyone until we got bored.
A variation on beats. A comb, usually plastic, would be heated with a lighter and then combed through the victims hair, who would have a burnt scalp and crappy lumps of melted plastic stuck in his hair.
Teacher training days. This is where the teachers got rid of all the kids so they could play football in the corridors and "Beat Up McCann", a teacher we theorised as being less popular. Certian staff members also probably dressed in leather jackets and stole money from the lamer ones.
We always said "whoever rhymed it, crimed it".
Criming something was considered a perfectly legitimate term. A variant would be to run up to someone, shout "Criminal Activity!" and steal someone's bag of crisps, or something.
Criming something was considered a perfectly legitimate term. A variant would be to run up to someone, shout "Criminal Activity!" and steal someone's bag of crisps, or something.
Inform a child how great Clint Eastwood is, and how much he or she loves them. Then make a special Clint Eastwood cap for the child to wear in lessons. This is a rather shonky origami affair with the word Clint written across it.
Be sure to write Clint in big capital letters, with the L and the I meeting at the bottom, though.
C LI NT
Be sure to write Clint in big capital letters, with the L and the I meeting at the bottom, though.
C LI NT
Not wearing pants. Freeing willy. Residing in an unfurnished basement.
There is no point going commando unless:
a) You tell everyone, or
b) you're a buff chick with ripped jeans and not too hairy a bumhole.
There is no point going commando unless:
a) You tell everyone, or
b) you're a buff chick with ripped jeans and not too hairy a bumhole.
The monicker of a child in our year who, ironically, was really boring.
We also made up a character called manij (pronounced manooj) who was entirely fictional and unrelated but just happened to be identical to manoj. Manij died.
We also made up a character called manij (pronounced manooj) who was entirely fictional and unrelated but just happened to be identical to manoj. Manij died.
One would shout this, extremely loudly at passing wasps. If they flew away, one would assume they had in fact gone home to fuck their mothers.
Gayvid Dadd's small moment of fame was when we realised his name sounded a tiny bit like god, and we were servants to his every whim for a few days. Then we just beat him up again.
Another song may explain what the biscuit tin was for;
Oli oli oli,
Put your tits in the trolley,
and your balls in the biscuit tin
And i can't remember the rest.
Oli oli oli,
Put your tits in the trolley,
and your balls in the biscuit tin
And i can't remember the rest.
Of course, when we said pillow-biter it meant something a lil' different.
What will eventually happen if someone writes Caramel Tart on a chalkboard in the school canteen. I laughed for pretty much the rest of the week.
It was meant to say Buckingham road, but we had tippex. Still makes me laugh when i go past it.
(Been to Manchester? In the hilarious fashion of Terry Pratchett's discworld pub, the Broken Drum / Mended Drum, the sign Canal Street is on a constant cycle of being changed to anal treet and then being fixed by the council, who roll their eyes at the gays, who've "done it again". By the way, I hate Terry Pratchett, don't get me fucking started on Terry Pratchett. - Log)
(Been to Manchester? In the hilarious fashion of Terry Pratchett's discworld pub, the Broken Drum / Mended Drum, the sign Canal Street is on a constant cycle of being changed to anal treet and then being fixed by the council, who roll their eyes at the gays, who've "done it again". By the way, I hate Terry Pratchett, don't get me fucking started on Terry Pratchett. - Log)
Somewhere between the last two Fs, the woman should provide you with the three Bs - a blowjob, a bacon sandwich, and beer. And remember, you'd never have pulled her without the trinity of Ss, a shit, a shower and a shave.
Alternately, simply stick explosive bangers into them. I did this a lot, for some reason.
No, I'm being coy - I know why I did it. It's because I found it entirely hilarious.
No, I'm being coy - I know why I did it. It's because I found it entirely hilarious.