| Report for Diving Bastard | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 7 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 1 |
| Summary | Perfectly Exquisite |
Setting Up : The two combatants would sit beside each other. Behind them would sit the Referee and his assistant.
Duration : A match lasted for a whole lesson. On good days, this can lead to some impressive scorelines and the opening of all windows. Scoring : One goal was awarded for each fart (farts had to be reasonably spaced - a quick follow up was regarded as a celebratory boot into the back of the net).
Fouls : Any 'fake' fart, whether intended or not, resulted in a penalty. A fake fart could be the players chair squeaking on the floor, usually followed by the player dramatically protesting his innocence to the ref, or a sinister 'professional foul' kind of fart, executed by the mouth. Or sometimes, while a striker was 'lining up for a shot' but having difficulty 'choosing his spot', he might unintentionally let out a groan or some other verbal effort. These would all result in a penalty.
Penalties : A penalty was taken by impersonating a fart. Easy, either by cupping the hand under the armpit, which resulted in a bit of a top corner net buster, or issuing a simple verbal 'prrrp' through a rattling, curled top lip, which was more of a simple tap-in, with the keeper going the wrong way.
Coaching : As the final approached unscrupulous 'agents' would try to sell their coaching services, which usually involved little more than them forcing you to get mushy peas with your bag of chips at lunchtime.
Rab Sutherland went on to win this in a tense and pungent final in geography, during which the teacher threatened to abandon the match at several points.
Duration : A match lasted for a whole lesson. On good days, this can lead to some impressive scorelines and the opening of all windows. Scoring : One goal was awarded for each fart (farts had to be reasonably spaced - a quick follow up was regarded as a celebratory boot into the back of the net).
Fouls : Any 'fake' fart, whether intended or not, resulted in a penalty. A fake fart could be the players chair squeaking on the floor, usually followed by the player dramatically protesting his innocence to the ref, or a sinister 'professional foul' kind of fart, executed by the mouth. Or sometimes, while a striker was 'lining up for a shot' but having difficulty 'choosing his spot', he might unintentionally let out a groan or some other verbal effort. These would all result in a penalty.
Penalties : A penalty was taken by impersonating a fart. Easy, either by cupping the hand under the armpit, which resulted in a bit of a top corner net buster, or issuing a simple verbal 'prrrp' through a rattling, curled top lip, which was more of a simple tap-in, with the keeper going the wrong way.
Coaching : As the final approached unscrupulous 'agents' would try to sell their coaching services, which usually involved little more than them forcing you to get mushy peas with your bag of chips at lunchtime.
Rab Sutherland went on to win this in a tense and pungent final in geography, during which the teacher threatened to abandon the match at several points.
- Oven glove boxing - obviously made more amusing as your hands were effectively tied together
- Trolley racing - there were two plastic trollies, filled with old tights (!?!) which fairly trundled along.
- Circumnavigating the class without touching the floor with all the gas hobs turned on
You got extra points for getting the belt from HE teacher 'Grannie Tennant', who couldn't belt for toffee.
Turning on the gas in chemistry and putting a lighter to it. Obvious really. Best time was when Colin Stone lost his carefully combed and hairsprayed, nu-romantic fringe in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.
Cheap 4-striped Adidas 'kick' clones. from Woolworths. attempting to disguise them by removing the surplus stripe only resulted in a kicking.
it was 'keys up' you stupid english twats!
An impromptu celebration, where colleagues took part in such activities as 'knee kicking', 'gobbing in hoods', and 'throwing people down the stairs'. I stabbed my mate Andy with a compass in maths.
He got sent out the class for screaming in agony, but still asked me to be his best man in later life. Although he was soon divorced, mind.
He got sent out the class for screaming in agony, but still asked me to be his best man in later life. Although he was soon divorced, mind.
The arrival of the spring/summer edition of this, or any other home shopping catalogue, was met with eager, sweaty palmed enthusiasm. Ladies underwear was always located towards the end of ladies outerwear, and just before menswear. Usually about 1/3 of the way through. Imagine our shame when, one afternoon, having bunked off early, my mates and I were discussing the new season's collection - "is that her fanny?" - "no, that's just a shadow" - "fanny?" - "nah, heavy gusset" - "fanny?" - "nope, shadow" only to turn the page and exhale in unison "now THAT's no shadow!!!" to the sound of his mother piping up from behind us "what's that then lads?", the sneaky cow had snuck in, and witnessed the whole sorry spectacle. We were 15.
READERS! Did YOU ever resort to unusual wank-fodder in your teen years?
Did you try and get off on a dirty limerick in a Nigel Rees graffiti compendium, or find yourself with nothing but a photo of a blood relative to "relieve" yourself to? Then we'd like to hear from you. Now.
READERS! Did YOU ever resort to unusual wank-fodder in your teen years?
Did you try and get off on a dirty limerick in a Nigel Rees graffiti compendium, or find yourself with nothing but a photo of a blood relative to "relieve" yourself to? Then we'd like to hear from you. Now.