Walking cautiously home from school behind some big fat year nines, I overheard one say to the other, "You're a cuntstack!". I gaped, wide-eyed, thinking I had stumbled across an ingenious new insult with hilarious origins. I later found out the bloke was called Kevin Stack, and his mate was therefore merely calling him a cunt, but this didn't stop me using 'cuntstack' at every possible opportunity.

My dad and some other teachers conspired to ensure that the first letters of each line on some kid's report spelled out 'LITTLE SHIT'. Brilliance.
Hold on, I'll just get the bullshit detector. Beep beep beep BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP.
Oh, go on, then - mansh

After the pope's visit to Wales, our school got the altar. It was left on the school stage under a green tarpaulin, too holy and wondrous to be seen by irreligious children, who'd probably just write 'shit' on it.

One rainy playtime I snuck in and wrote 'shit' on it. I later panicked and returned to cover my crime. I changed it to look like 'ship'.

I lost sleep that night. The capital P at the end of ship was a dead giveaway of an converted t, and when the teachers found it they'd get the Pope back, and he'd proper bollock me.

Next day, I went back one last time and changed it to 'I love shiPs'. This put my mind at rest straight away - that's just the kind of thing the Pope would say. That drugged old cunt loves the ships.

Weeks later someone rearranged the plastic letters on the front of the altar, so they spelled out swear words instead of religious Latin. That Pope doesn't half leave some fucking cheap-arse altars behind him.

Swear words added in the editing process. Direct all Pope-bashing complaints to me, Log. PS your pontiff's a cunt and you secretly know it

In the first tutorial together, pupils are forced to do introduction exercises, teling the class their name, and telling them a bit about themselves. "My name is Jacob and I like eggs" was the appalling example offered by the form tutor to get the ball rolling.
It did prove to be a bonding experience for the class, in that we bonded by saying "Hello, my name is Jacob and I like eggs" for half an hour.

Like Morrissey and Sade, this chromosome-laden girl was a constant source of mystery at school. Kept behind for a number of years, the six-foot tall behemoth lumbered around the playground stamping her foot and drooling. One way to pump up her wrath was to describe cruelty to hamsters, the one form of creature that she seemed to empathise with. Telling her that you had "raped a hamster until it popped" or had enjoyed "hamster pie for dinner" soon turned her into a raging fiend. There was a dark twist in the tale though, as after some nameless crime had been committed, and every bag in the class was searched, the soon-to-have-a-breakdown caretaker found a dead hamster in Carmel's bag. It was like seeing Jill Dando assasinate someone.

We had developed a habit of riding invisible motorcycles around the corridors of our secondary school, accompanied by sound effects. As this was done without regard for the health & safety of non-participants, the headmaster saw fit to ban the practice.

One day he had caught Kenneth Keene and James Spencer joyriding in the corridor, and was in the middle of giving them a ticking off when another 'biker' came tearing past them. The furious head shouted at Ken to go after the boy and bring him back, so Ken climbed on his imaginary bike, kickstarted it and roared off in hot pursuit.

We had a different version. There was a girl who was "13" and she wanted to be "84". When she was "45" she went to the doctors and the doctor said 'oh' ("0") take these pills "2" times ("x") a day but she took them "4" times (don't press times this time) and she ended up ("=")... If you miss out the "0" then the poor girl ends up "bobless"

- Have you ever seen a maggot spit?
- No...
- Well, wank harder then.

Well - you had to be sure.

John Stinton, to give him his full name, taught my class in the final year of junior school. Highlights of his teaching included an impromptu sex education lesson, which included various far-fetched (and pretty inaccurate) descriptions of puberty and sex acts. He used to frequently 'forget' to fasten his trousers.
My friends and I sneaked a look into his rucksack one lunchtime and found the bottle of 'Lucozade' from which he constantly sipped. Smelt kinda like vodka...
I used to amuse myself by never looking at him directly when he spoke to me, but instead focusing on a spot to the left and behind his head. Watching the poor drunk try to work out what was going on was quite funny really.
I helped get the shit suspended, and he had to go into rehab. Came out, took up drugs, went back to teaching at the same school.