| Report for Bobs Meryll | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 9 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 1 |
| Summary | Perfectly Exquisite |
An obscure term for 'smelly cock', derived via the popular 'cheesy bellender'.
"Am." A Lincolnshire variation on 'arrrrrrrr' and 'ummmmmmmm.'
Consequence-free rudeness. Extending the ring finger, or making V-signs with the middle and ring fingers, will cause initial shock and offence, but when it is pointed out which fingers you are using, the parent or teacher will find themselves impotent in the face of your devilish wit. That's how it's supposed to work, at least.
Grab another one,
Stick a chainsaw up its bum,
Turn the power on,
Now the fraggle's gone!
Stick a chainsaw up its bum,
Turn the power on,
Now the fraggle's gone!
If anyone tries a trick or Catch-22 against you, use the all-purpose comeback, "is that gay humour? I don't understand it because I'm not gay, but you seem to find it amusing enough."
Another it-selecting rhyme:
'Ib dib dog shit,
Fucking bastard,
Dirty git
... (continue swearing) ...
You are not IT!'
After the third line, the lyrics were variable, and usually consisted of the picker reciting as many other swear words as they could think of until they ran out. The rhyme improved with the age of the rhymer, until eventually the selection process aspect of the rhyme was lost into a purposeless stream of filth.
'Ib dib dog shit,
Fucking bastard,
Dirty git
... (continue swearing) ...
You are not IT!'
After the third line, the lyrics were variable, and usually consisted of the picker reciting as many other swear words as they could think of until they ran out. The rhyme improved with the age of the rhymer, until eventually the selection process aspect of the rhyme was lost into a purposeless stream of filth.
I'm afraid there is more. In the Lincoln area, after Jesus has paralysed his bollocks on a dustbin lid, it continues:
'When I die, bury me,
Hang my bollocks on a cherry tree.
When they're ripe, take a bite,
But don't blame me if you fart all night.'
A version imported from Yorkshire was:
'When I die, bury me,
Hang my bollocks on a cherry tree.
If they grow, let me know,
'Cause I'll be listening on the radio.'
The practicalities of grafting human testicles onto a cherry tree, or of gaining radio airtime for an announcement concerning their progress, were not considered, although it is somewhat impressive that in the former version, the lyricist took steps to protect himself against any flatulence-related legal proceedings.
'When I die, bury me,
Hang my bollocks on a cherry tree.
When they're ripe, take a bite,
But don't blame me if you fart all night.'
A version imported from Yorkshire was:
'When I die, bury me,
Hang my bollocks on a cherry tree.
If they grow, let me know,
'Cause I'll be listening on the radio.'
The practicalities of grafting human testicles onto a cherry tree, or of gaining radio airtime for an announcement concerning their progress, were not considered, although it is somewhat impressive that in the former version, the lyricist took steps to protect himself against any flatulence-related legal proceedings.
A more extreme version of kiss chase which never existed at my school, although at the age of about eight, I unsuccessfully tried to convince my cousins it did.
An unpopular female music teacher with dark hair one day appeared to have dyed it slightly purple. Todd Roylance, the perennial teacher-breaker, asked her why she had purple hair, to which she replied, "I walked under a purple cloud, and it rained!"
This pathetic attempt at a joke was met with howls of sarcastic laughter, and cries of "That's so funny, miss!", "You should be a comedian!", and possibly a simple, "You're shit, miss!". She left the room in tears.
This pathetic attempt at a joke was met with howls of sarcastic laughter, and cries of "That's so funny, miss!", "You should be a comedian!", and possibly a simple, "You're shit, miss!". She left the room in tears.