| Report for Bionic Sheep | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 13 |
| Rejected stories | 7 |
| Deleted stories | 32 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
I remember a very similar game that I was often a victim of as a child:
Kid #1: Say "Fuck off"
Kid #2: Fuck off
At this point Kid #1 punches kid #2. Ah, the quiet innocence of youth.
Kid #1: Say "Fuck off"
Kid #2: Fuck off
At this point Kid #1 punches kid #2. Ah, the quiet innocence of youth.
In 'The Speckled Band' at the start Watson says to Holmes "Terribly sorry to knock you up at this ungodly hour Holmes".
Our teacher sent us outside for a break after giving up in fits of giggles herself.
Our teacher sent us outside for a break after giving up in fits of giggles herself.
In a bizarre reversal of this rule, doing something totally harmless in a surreptitious enough manner will undoubtedly obtain you a bollocking.
A dear friend of mine was on google in IT with a totally relevant search on screen, but was hunched over the keyboard and sitting in a corner when the teacher came over, protesting his innocence. He received three after schools.
A dear friend of mine was on google in IT with a totally relevant search on screen, but was hunched over the keyboard and sitting in a corner when the teacher came over, protesting his innocence. He received three after schools.
I can't believe you missed out the best bit.
Upon shouting this the shouter has permission to kick the shit out of the person still trying to climb it.
Good times.
Upon shouting this the shouter has permission to kick the shit out of the person still trying to climb it.
Good times.
It's nipple cripple, you fool.
Bery exciting? I have personally never found berries that exciting, however if nob nog were added to the concoction I can see how you might get slightly excited.
I'll get me coat.
I'll get me coat.
Bleep Test
Stick on tape with various bleeps that get faster and faster. Run up and down.
Person who comes last gets publicly humiliated.
Stick on tape with various bleeps that get faster and faster. Run up and down.
Person who comes last gets publicly humiliated.
The hardest kid that I know managed to give himself a burn in the shape of a J. His name was Simon. Note that Simon does not begin with, or contain, a J.
Five years later, though, that stubborn little J is still there. Simon shows neither regret nor pride. Or any evidence of really having thought about it.
Five years later, though, that stubborn little J is still there. Simon shows neither regret nor pride. Or any evidence of really having thought about it.
When Drama lessons are taken with a cover teacher, every task set should somehow degrade into graphic homosexual acts.
If they try to protest, give them a fierce look, and reproachfully say "we're only acting, Miss".
If they try to protest, give them a fierce look, and reproachfully say "we're only acting, Miss".
How many fucking entries for the word skill do we need?
After all, it quite clearly means Stupid Kunt Idly Licks Log.
After all, it quite clearly means Stupid Kunt Idly Licks Log.
If you only have one sock in your PE kit (for any reason) it is officially A Wank Sock. Therefore, thefts of a single sock from someone's bag were common at our school.
Mr. Hartshorne, AKA Dribbler. He still teaches at our school, is huge, fat and smells. He also sprays the whole room with spit and sweat every time he talks.
On the plus side, I once set fire to his strip heater and got away with it.
On the plus side, I once set fire to his strip heater and got away with it.
Camera phones have bought a new age of terror to the playground. I now can't hear the words 'My Little Pony' without thinking of a video someone showed me of a girl getting fucked by a horse.
I feel ill.
I feel ill.
These were also discovered to stick incredibly well into the ceiling of our technology classroom. Teachers would turn from writing on the board to see a forest of prongs dangly from the ceiling and a very innocent looking class.
"Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you."
http://www.worldwideschool.org/library/books/lit/detective/TheAdventuresofSherlockHolmes/chap9.html
It took a good twenty minutes to calm us down.
http://www.worldwideschool.org/library/books/lit/detective/TheAdventuresofSherlockHolmes/chap9.html
It took a good twenty minutes to calm us down.
In St. Martin's school there was also a sign concerning the directions to the Swimming Poo.
So simple, and yet so effective.
So simple, and yet so effective.
I quite like this, but maybe it could do with an edit. I can't be arsed, so I'm passing it to you.
Any teacher with a lazy eye is clearly asking for victimisation.
Our favourite was the delectable Madame Mouldy. I'm not sure if that was her real name, but through her thick, french tones it was so hard to tell.
The common rumour was that the eye was, in fact, glass, and furthermore the basis of all her supernatural powers.
These supernatural powers did not include the ability to avoid walking into things and shouting at entirely the wrong person.
Spookily, having spoken to some rather old former pupils, it seems she has in fact been there forever. I can only assume that she died, but God got so sick of not being entirely sure if he was being yelled at he sent her back.
In what, with hindsight, can now be seen as a cry for help from a very lonely boy, Pavandeep started pinching people's phones and 'bluetoothing' the pictures and videos of them going out and having fun to his own phone, so he could show his parents and pretend that he was there.
There was a time when exclusion didn't involve technology. I remember it well - Conor
There was a time when exclusion didn't involve technology. I remember it well - Conor
On the subject of Mr. Hartshorne, I feel I should add that we successfully gave him stress induced diabetes and got him fired for incompetence.
In approximately that order.
In approximately that order.
There was a kid in my primary school called Aaron. He had a small pack of cronies, which I fell in and out with occassionally. He wasn't especially hard or interesting, but his one redeeming feature was being the first to get any cool thing at all, and then refusing to share it unless you were one of his minions.
Predictably, as people got older they realised it was easier to just beat the shit out of him.
Good times.
Predictably, as people got older they realised it was easier to just beat the shit out of him.
Good times.
The coolest of the "gun" weapons to be found in a school, beating glue guns by a fucking mile.
It is possible to launch yourself through the air, with a staple gun in each hand, firing John Woo-style into planks of wood across the room.
For closer-range attacks, simply staple a Dairylea triangle to the wall in reception. Some bursting may occur, but ours stayed there long enough to go rotten. Perhaps they thought it was science.
It is possible to launch yourself through the air, with a staple gun in each hand, firing John Woo-style into planks of wood across the room.
For closer-range attacks, simply staple a Dairylea triangle to the wall in reception. Some bursting may occur, but ours stayed there long enough to go rotten. Perhaps they thought it was science.
Not a fantastic idea, especially when senior staff are wandering around the field.
We also once nearly blew our hands off putting a hole in a deoderant can and dropping it in a bin before flicking in a match, nonchalantly. An attempt to put it out by covering the bin with our blazers led to a large melted patch in a friend's blazer, which he later had to explain to his despairing parents.
You'd think they'd be used to it by then.
We also once nearly blew our hands off putting a hole in a deoderant can and dropping it in a bin before flicking in a match, nonchalantly. An attempt to put it out by covering the bin with our blazers led to a large melted patch in a friend's blazer, which he later had to explain to his despairing parents.
You'd think they'd be used to it by then.
Try this one, if you like. I've edited it to fuck but it still doesn't make me laugh, even though the idea's good.
Hmmm. Conor?
I like the game. Maybe needs to bring the funny a bit more. Phil?
I'd have deleted it myself. Maybe you can find something in it?
You will need a selection of coats and belts.
1. Choose a 'volunteer'.
2. Jump on them and tie them up. A coat on back-to-front and arms fastened securely with a belt makes a satisfactory straightjacket.
3. Sit back and watch the hilarity that follows, as they thrash around frantically and bump into things.
Calling something gay was incredibly cutting right up to about year seven. Then it goes out for a few years, until you hit fifteen.
Then it becomes retro.
Then it becomes retro.
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'.
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'.
I maintain to this day that I was justified in my artistic doodle of Tony's dad fucking a pig.
After all, he was a policeman. And policeman, as we all know, fuck pigs. Logic, right?
After all, he was a policeman. And policeman, as we all know, fuck pigs. Logic, right?
To this day I have puzzled over a third year primary school child who, in a delirious gloating panic, ran up to one of the teachers exclaiming "Miss, Miss, he just said the 'M' word!"
It's no good. Thirty minutes thought I've given to this now, at my employer's expense. Does anyone know what the 'M' word is? - Conor
It's no good. Thirty minutes thought I've given to this now, at my employer's expense. Does anyone know what the 'M' word is? - Conor
This theory was pushed to its very limits when we set fire to a desk and started doing deodourant-flamethrowers in front of a cover teacher in our drama class. Punishment? Not a sausage.
A brief equation for you:
Incredibly hot power packs + my right forearm =
I didn't get any fucking compensation, either.
Incredibly hot power packs + my right forearm =
I didn't get any fucking compensation, either.
The only nugget of Spanish I know is "My octopus has Foot and Mouth", and I can't spell it.
I look forward eagily to the day when I finally get to use it.
I look forward eagily to the day when I finally get to use it.
Part of the same family of words as Scunthorpe, crumpet and KT Tunstall, as words you can easily amend to cunt (or kunt).
The best possible scenario is getting a teacher to read out this Dungeon Masteresque riddle - "once you have connected the wire, the cunt should be significantly higher".
The best possible scenario is getting a teacher to read out this Dungeon Masteresque riddle - "once you have connected the wire, the cunt should be significantly higher".
I've always wondered; how many people actually knew about the whole 'solvent abuse' thing before they started teaching it in schools?
I know for certain that the idea of sticking a load of glue up my nose had never occurred to me until they started teaching us about it in class.
I know for certain that the idea of sticking a load of glue up my nose had never occurred to me until they started teaching us about it in class.
The 'bully box' was a small, square box mounted on a wall in our school reception. The idea was that you put the name of whoever was bullying you in there, and the teachers can then deal with the problem without you having to go public with your grassing.
There are obvious flaws with this; the anonymity means that there is no proof of any misdemeanour, and the system is clearly open to abuse by reporting innocent people. But by far the biggest flaw is that the box has never ever been opened.
My theory is that it has become a kind of Pandora's Box, and if it is ever opened, all the dead arms in the entire world will be released at once.
There are obvious flaws with this; the anonymity means that there is no proof of any misdemeanour, and the system is clearly open to abuse by reporting innocent people. But by far the biggest flaw is that the box has never ever been opened.
My theory is that it has become a kind of Pandora's Box, and if it is ever opened, all the dead arms in the entire world will be released at once.
I have long wondered about the '4' on the end of this entry.
Does the Clive in question have to be 4 years old? Do there have to be four clives, perhaps linked together in some kind of engine formation? Or do all the Clives you know get especially wound up by the number 4?
Does the Clive in question have to be 4 years old? Do there have to be four clives, perhaps linked together in some kind of engine formation? Or do all the Clives you know get especially wound up by the number 4?
A popular rhyme in my school was:
[pupil's] mum is in the kitchen,
She's the one that I've been wishin'
I pointed out once that it was neither especially insulting nor grammatically correct. Surely the correct form would be:
[pupil's] mum is in the kitchen,
She's the one for whom I'm wishin'
I got punched. And they sang it at me while they did it. Cunts.
[pupil's] mum is in the kitchen,
She's the one that I've been wishin'
I pointed out once that it was neither especially insulting nor grammatically correct. Surely the correct form would be:
[pupil's] mum is in the kitchen,
She's the one for whom I'm wishin'
I got punched. And they sang it at me while they did it. Cunts.
Rice-tube: God knows what the real name of this was, but there's one in every school. Its basically a long, wooden tube with rice, or something else in it. You turn it upside down and get a pleasing watery sound effect.
Or you spin it around and around at arms length, soundlessly, until it hits someone with both a painful thunk and a calming whoosh. Plus, when it breaks, the victim is coated in old, mouldy rice, which will likely land in their eye.
Or you spin it around and around at arms length, soundlessly, until it hits someone with both a painful thunk and a calming whoosh. Plus, when it breaks, the victim is coated in old, mouldy rice, which will likely land in their eye.
For us it always took on a faint hint of the absurd:
Eenie meenie minee mo,
Catch a fishy by its toe,
If it wriggles let it go,
Eenie meenie minee mo.
Of course, being 8, we accepted that some fish had toes. After all, we reasoned, some humans don't, and they have to go somewhere. Quite logical for 8 year olds, I think.
Eenie meenie minee mo,
Catch a fishy by its toe,
If it wriggles let it go,
Eenie meenie minee mo.
Of course, being 8, we accepted that some fish had toes. After all, we reasoned, some humans don't, and they have to go somewhere. Quite logical for 8 year olds, I think.
You big dumb gays. This site is all just a conspiracy to trick us into thinking that our childhood was less than perfect. In fact, our childhoods were perfect, and we spent most of our time dancing around chocolate rivers and singing happy songs.
You fucking shit faces.
You fucking shit faces.
Pupil A: "Pupil B is a gay icon, you know, miss!"
Teacher: "Well, he can't help being attractive."
This was made all the worse by the fact that said teacher was the fattest cake-mountain ever to roll her merry way into our school. I mean, she once told us there might be stains on our books because she'd been eating chocolate cake while she marked them. If that isn't asking for it, what exactly is?
Teacher: "Well, he can't help being attractive."
This was made all the worse by the fact that said teacher was the fattest cake-mountain ever to roll her merry way into our school. I mean, she once told us there might be stains on our books because she'd been eating chocolate cake while she marked them. If that isn't asking for it, what exactly is?
My primary school, too, invested in painting weird markings on the floor. We had a snake with numbers on it and a mock-road, amongst other things.
I seem to remember long summer days spent pretending to be cars and having 'accidents', which mostly involved our entire class crashing into Reece and knocking him over. Serves him right for being such a shit driver.
I seem to remember long summer days spent pretending to be cars and having 'accidents', which mostly involved our entire class crashing into Reece and knocking him over. Serves him right for being such a shit driver.
Allow me to introduce Tall-As-Wide girl.
I still don't know her real name, but the nickname alone tells you all you would ever want - or need - to know about her.
I still don't know her real name, but the nickname alone tells you all you would ever want - or need - to know about her.
Blakey's dad was not amused by the memo I left for him in his homework diary, in thick permanent marker.
"Memo:" it read, "Bum Dad."
"Memo:" it read, "Bum Dad."
Endlessly infuriating game, as demonstrated here by James and Jim, our handy mascots.
James: Hello.
Jim: ... Said James.
James: What?
Jim: ... Exclaimed James.
James: Stop doing that!
Jim: ... Ordered James.
James: Listen, you fucker, it's bad enough that you've got basically the same name as me, without turning this whole conversation into a fucking novel.
Jim: ... Ejaculated James, forcefully.
James: I'm going to go and kill your parents now.
Jim: ... Said James. Wait, what?
James: Hello.
Jim: ... Said James.
James: What?
Jim: ... Exclaimed James.
James: Stop doing that!
Jim: ... Ordered James.
James: Listen, you fucker, it's bad enough that you've got basically the same name as me, without turning this whole conversation into a fucking novel.
Jim: ... Ejaculated James, forcefully.
James: I'm going to go and kill your parents now.
Jim: ... Said James. Wait, what?
Our computers had a german program where you could play a cheap imitation of Breakout, in which you had to free the right german word.
It was only interesting in that the name repository was shared between all the computers, so if one person changed their name, everyone did.
"You missed the ball, CUNTFACE!"
It was only interesting in that the name repository was shared between all the computers, so if one person changed their name, everyone did.
"You missed the ball, CUNTFACE!"
My friend Sam once ate a wasp for 50p. However, he hadn't removed all the sting and had to be taken to hospital in case he went into anaphylactic shock.
He returned to school later that day and was presented with an IOU for 50p. The cunt had spent it on a Mars bar, not expecting Sam to return.
He returned to school later that day and was presented with an IOU for 50p. The cunt had spent it on a Mars bar, not expecting Sam to return.
Taken to it's logical conclusion when Blakey's boxers were actually torn out of his trousers and he was left writhing in pant-less agony.
My friend attempted this tactic. However, it was actually our RE GCSE that he got stoned for. And instead of writing a perfect essay, he simply fell sound asleep for the two hours.
He wrote half a sentence, and probably did better than he would have had he been concious.
He wrote half a sentence, and probably did better than he would have had he been concious.
The above mnemonic was actually taught to us by an australian teacher that came over for a year.
He also once shared his pasta with me at lunch time.
Despite these quirks, I can assure you he was not a paedophile.
He also once shared his pasta with me at lunch time.
Despite these quirks, I can assure you he was not a paedophile.
Everybody knows about birthday beats. One punch for every year. Simple, but as we got older and more people got involved it became common for people to try and keep their birthdays a secret.
I still remember the time when a certain arse who had tormented me for quite some time was greeted at the bottom of the french block's stairwell by the entire fucking yeargroup. Every time he thought it was over, someone would yell "MORE!" and we would descend upon his beaten carcass once more.
I still remember the time when a certain arse who had tormented me for quite some time was greeted at the bottom of the french block's stairwell by the entire fucking yeargroup. Every time he thought it was over, someone would yell "MORE!" and we would descend upon his beaten carcass once more.
It seems that Dunc Cameron's entry about the DJ button has sparked a wave of nostalgia amongst our contributors. Here are just a few (all) of the many (some) we received.
The DJ button is indeed the finest thing ever put on a keyboard. Our Music lessons were a doss at the best of times, but the day we discovered the uses of the DJ button was like finding the Holy Grail.
This culminated in a couple of lads using the moaning sounds to recreate a porn soundtrack. All it really needed was the kid next to them playing a bit of 70s funk guitar, and if you shut your eyes, it'd have been perfect.
(Anonymous user)
The DJ button also infuriated our teacher. When asked to go away and write a composition, those with the new Yamaha keyboards would invariably come back with a mishmash of orgasmic moans, "DJ!" and "Dictionary" (another function). We were eventually banned from using that key.
(Nicky w)
Pressing a certain combination of keys under the DJ setting can produce the phrase "COME ON! YO! MOM!". Which is, frankly, class.
(Andrew Barnes)
I remember that you could push the keys in a certain order to make it cry out "DJ! Push the- dic- dic- dic- OH YEAH- One more time!"
(Bionic Sheep)
And lastly...
I'm still at school, and I'd like to say that making a Yamaha keyboard say "Lesbian!" on the DJ function for an hour every Monday morning brings immense happiness, as well as bragging rights.
(Anonymous user)
So there you have it. The DJ button is OFFICIALLY the best button ever. Not even the off switch on Jimmy Carr's life support machine comes close. - Matt
The DJ button is indeed the finest thing ever put on a keyboard. Our Music lessons were a doss at the best of times, but the day we discovered the uses of the DJ button was like finding the Holy Grail.
This culminated in a couple of lads using the moaning sounds to recreate a porn soundtrack. All it really needed was the kid next to them playing a bit of 70s funk guitar, and if you shut your eyes, it'd have been perfect.
(Anonymous user)
The DJ button also infuriated our teacher. When asked to go away and write a composition, those with the new Yamaha keyboards would invariably come back with a mishmash of orgasmic moans, "DJ!" and "Dictionary" (another function). We were eventually banned from using that key.
(Nicky w)
Pressing a certain combination of keys under the DJ setting can produce the phrase "COME ON! YO! MOM!". Which is, frankly, class.
(Andrew Barnes)
I remember that you could push the keys in a certain order to make it cry out "DJ! Push the- dic- dic- dic- OH YEAH- One more time!"
(Bionic Sheep)
And lastly...
I'm still at school, and I'd like to say that making a Yamaha keyboard say "Lesbian!" on the DJ function for an hour every Monday morning brings immense happiness, as well as bragging rights.
(Anonymous user)
So there you have it. The DJ button is OFFICIALLY the best button ever. Not even the off switch on Jimmy Carr's life support machine comes close. - Matt
I am intrigued. Is 'bum-up' intended as an adjective or a verb? The meaning changed radically depending on how you read it; are you suggesting they are felines with their buttocks raised ready for a good bumming, or saying that they regularily DELIVER aforementioned anal penetration to said felines?
These are important questions that must be answered!
These are important questions that must be answered!
I farted in my GCSE maths exam. My friend Grant, sat one desk across from me, cracked up laughing, sending me into similar fits of giggles. The adjudicator threatened to rip up our papers.
It stopped being funny at that point.
It stopped being funny at that point.