When the PE teacher asked him if he was called Barry, he replied "Yes". She said "Yes what?" in that imperious manner of PE teachers, fully expecting him to answer "Yes Miss".

However, our Bazza replied, having had manners beaten into him by his parents, "Yes please". But he drew out the word "please" in a slightly puzzled tone of voice, which obviously meant he was unsure that this was the correct answer.

This was confirmed to him by the entire class, including the teacher, pissing themselves laughing, and Barry just pissing himself.

Barry Walker's finest hour was the hour when he finally learnt to tell a joke. The joke going round was "Knock Knock! Who's there? Spitonmish! Spitonmish who?" at which the teller hocked a greeny on to the victims Clarks commandos.

Barry's rendition of the joke was less interactive. He'd just say "Knock Knock, who's there, spitonmishoe," and never quite figured out why this brilliant joke ended up with him getting his shoes gobbed on.

Barry Tamkin was the stupidest kid in our school, although to be fair he did do a cracking impression of the Pink Panther walking into a tree. I hope this had stood him in good stead through life, as it was his only skill.
I'd be interested to know if anyone has ever encountered anyone called Barry who wasn't either fat/a geek/stupid/generally picked on, as I don't think they exist.

There was a Barry at our school, who incredibly wasn't a geek, fat, or stupid. Unfortunately his surname was Tease. So, boys howled 'Ooooh Barry is a Tease' in the gayest way imaginable. Actually, even gayer than that.
So he might as well have been a geek, fat, or stupid for all the bullying he got.

My unfortunate army brat cousin, given name Barry-John, was sent off to boarding school having become accustomed to being addressed as "BJ".
When he returned from boarding school, his mother amended it to "Beej".
It was too late.

Barry at my school cried when someone stole the sticker he'd been given by his dentist, featuring a picture of a crocodile brushing his teeth with an oversized toothbrush. Barry cried so much we were all called in to an emergency assembly so the headmaster could explain that we should never touch other people's belongings because even though they may not appear important to us, the things may mean the world to them.

Someone later stole the piece of tin foil that Barry had saved from his sandwiches. He cried even more about that, because he was really excited about adding it to his last year's easter egg foil collection.

Unusually, our Barry was tall and skinny with a friendly, honest face.
He did, however, have a phenomenal nervous tic, which manifested itself through Barry squeezing his eyes tightly shut for a fraction of a second - an industrial-strength blink, if you like - and a quick shake of his head. This occurred roughly once every eight seconds; every now and again he would do two in a row. Surprisingly, nobody ever mentioned it and he blinked and shook his way happily through school.

We had a Barry who knocked himself out whilst attempting a backflip whilst breakdancing at the school disco.
[mansh]It's the long awaited return of Barries We Have Known!
THANKS, IVAN! KEEP 'EM COMING![/mansh]

Our class Barry had Barry as a surname, rather than a first name. He compensated for this in two ways:

(1) He only had three fingers on his left hand. In order to avoid drawing attention to this he would keep it in his pocket at all times. No only did this not work at all, it also earned him his first nickname, The Hooded Claw.

(2) Once, whoever wrote the day's roll had terrible writing, while the supply teacher who read it obviously didn't know the names of anyone in the class, and thus spent a good ten minutes attempting to track down someone called "Batsy". This immediately became his second nickname.