Skid M

Fortunately, we were sophisticated and mature enough to appreciate and capitalise on the significant double-entendre opportunities. “Sir had to take her up the pink corridor for a punishment.” Teachers could be asked if they were “going up the pink corridor for lunch”.

Skid M

Here, see for yourself - to the tune of The Spanish Flea.

<div class=“image”><iframe width=“480” height=“360” src=“http://www.youtube.com/embed/CBDv4ujBNtA?rel=0" frameborder=“0” allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

Jon B

“We don't really need a crowd to have a party,” you'd reassure them. “Just a funky beat and you to get it started.”

The onus would then be on them to get the party started. You can encourage them with other lyrics, including “It won't take a lot of thought for you to do it” and “I think you're ready, Freddie”.

A second option is to tell them “you're having big fun” until a bubble of stifled emotion plops out of their nose.

Jon B

Completely innocuous and unlikely to cause harm or even dirty your shoes, but having been given the nickname, being shoved into that deadly zone by an opportunistic fellow pupil would earn the unsuspecting victim many hours of bewildering taunting for having breached the “Poo Pot”.

Possibly speculated to be the source of the “fleas” that everyone was so terrified of inheriting by any kind of glancing contact with the wrong sort of person (girls).

[anon]

Aye, right. So you walked around with a dog shit in your coat pocket all day, just in case someone tried to steal your handkerchief? You’ve emerged as the clear winner here. You daft sod. - Matt

Peter L

As much as I’d like to claim it was because I had surprisingly understanding and tolerant friends, it’s probably more to do with the fact I taught everyone to finger spell various obscenities and, eventually, full-blown derogatory phrases in BSL. These words and phrases would be repeated with glee under the noses of the teachers.

Any respect and admiration built up over the next two years evaporated when I became one of the country’s first recipients of a Cochlear Implant, and the playground soon rang with delighted cries of “Richard’s got a COCK IN HIS EAR!”

And the cruel thing was I could actually hear them again.

Rich F

As if this wasn’t funny enough in itself, he came in the next day wearing the SAME JACKET, that his mum had mended and washed.

This earnt him the nickname ‘Trampony’.

Mr M

[anon]

According to Ste Roberts, the method involved boiling an amount of pasta (pasta type was not specified so presumably most shapes will suffice)until ‘al dente’, then transferring pasta to an empty jam jar, leaving the lid off but covering the top with a double layer of cling film into which a small slit is made.

Once pasta cools from very hot to quite warm, the pastabater’s penis can be inserted into the jar of pasta, at which point the pastabating can begin in earnest.

Never actually tried this, however having actually written the process up, it sounds more plausible than it did 20 years ago.

[anon]

Anyway, my best friend made me do it.

[anon]

In my class, a piece of paper with the heading “PUSSY” was passed around for everyone to contribute to. Until it got to Ian, who wrote “cat”.

elmore b

The teacher then informed the young man that she was fully conversant with Jamaican patois, due to the fact that she had lived with a black guy for several years, and had him suspended for a week.

For those that don’t know, my extensive research has revealed that a ‘blodclart’ is a ‘used tampon’, and that a ‘bumbaclart’ translates literally as an ‘anal tampon’.
God, I feel SO babylon. - Mansh

Derek M

Players PLEASE! subsequently became the standard response made by anyone kicked in the bollocks, always resulting in both kicker and kickee laughing together mannishly.

Tony G

[anon]

Meh, where to begin.

A seal’s egg would in fact be ‘un oeuf de phoque’.

Before anyone else bothers… a)We don’t care.
b)
c)Look, just fuck off. - Ponky

[anon]

1. Help yourself to a lot - say 6 yards - of bog roll.

2. Fold it over a couple of times so that it forms a thick, 18 inch long strip.

3. Use your arse cheeks to hold it in place hanging above the water in the bowl as you drop off a steamy bob into the waiting dung ‘hammock’.

4. Gather the two ends that have been sandwiched between your buttocks and the bog seat and, in a David and Goliath stylee, sling your cack grenade over the top of the partition wall and into the girls’ side.

5. Listen for screaming and walk out, whistling and with your hands in your pockets.

Considering how crap at lying 6 year olds are it is a miracle I got away with it.

[anon]

A firm stool, wrapped like a brown mummy in toilet paper and dipped briefly in water, can be cradled in the palm without inconvenience or tell-tale odour. But, as sex offenders in Wandsworth Prison and English boarding school pupils can testify, it detonates on impact when thrown, like a big bomb of shit.

damon g

So that’ll be why he used to make you spread your legs apart, bend over on his plush red leather chair, and wait, arse up, for long agonising minutes while he stood in the corner where he kept his quiver of canes, selecting one cane after the other, flexing it between his meaty fingers and swishing it through the air a few times to test its suitability for the melancholy duty it was about to perform. He was punishing HIMSELF more than anyone else. And his distaste would be clearly evident afterwards, in the way he’d stand there puffing and blowing, sweaty and claret-faced, agitated out of all proportion to the physical extertion involved in botty-whacking a small boy a few times. It was because he HATED it.

[anon]

…can I just add to this that Mr Sheldon was the uncle of Bob Sheldon (see: ‘Bob baiting’). If you could provide some sort of link between these two entries, it will give readers a chance to reflect on the way in which being a bullying cunt can be genetically inherited.

No sooner said than done, Simon.

[anon]

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

Brian B

Lee

Sharing this epithet remains, to this day, the only thing I have in common with Victoria Beckham, as unfortunately, I have never sucked her husband’s cock.

Peter M

At first he was very doubtful of this, until the scale of this prank escalated, and after myself and half of the school year pestered and prodded him about him not bleeding out of his arse he finally succumbed to the immense peer pressure.

“So, Chris, you haven’t bled out of your arse? That means you haven’t started puberty yet. Are you sure??”

“Steven, I meant to say…. I HAVE bled out of my arse.”

What a numpty.

Steven H

It was only when the newspaper reported that he had been caught with a computer full of child porn that we realised that we didn't like him at all.

It didn't take us much longer to remember that we never learned anything in his classes because he was constantly running at our bums with his hands out.

In fairness to ourselves, it's quite a weak justification of the k-fiddlez to say but he could put across difficult throries well .

Alex R

The inclination not to attack an easy target, remember, does not occur in children.

[anon]

This, of course, became the ONLY way to tell anyone to get out of anywhere.

King P

Giggling began as four streams joined togeteher in glorious Handelesque harmony, but it soon got too much to resist.

It started with a little flick, a little move to the side, then suddenly we were taken by the moment, spraying our urine on the toilet, walls, floors, and each other. We finished up, convulsing with laughter; the last boy making a show of it and spinning around in a 360 degree piss cycle.

We then opened the door to find our teacher standing there, fuming at our soaked trousers. Two boys started crying right there; I held strong though, until they broke me back in the office - the “getting your mum in” card was too damn effective.

Scott D

One ingenious teaching method employed by this beast of a woman was as follows: instead of telling the class to be quiet, she would sit at her desk with her hand in the air in a type of Nazi salute. One by one the children would notice this and do the same. Her logic was that the last child to do it would be the child that was paying the least attention - and thus talking the most. Unfortunately, it could also mean that the child who wasn’t acting like a member of the Hitler youth was actually getting on with their work.

Ironically Mrs Baron was barren. She left at the end of the school year to adopt a baby.

Bob S

chin t

Now, for some reason I’ve always thought that this modified title implied that we took to the field with our arsecress braided to that of other team members, creating a monstrous pentagon of hairy bottoms.

This would have been quite an achievement, perhaps an even greater one than merely plaiting one’s own anal beard and subsequently beating all comers at five-a-side football.

The Boy T

• Form a committee. Nominate a Pole Master and a Pole Greaser. All other committee members are muscle
• Block the stairs to the lower deck. The Pole Master shouts Grease The Pole !
• The Pole Master walks up the aisle, looking at each boy, smiling and rubbing the poles. His gaze falls upon the selected boy.
• At the same time, the Pole Greaser has been polishing the poles with a cloth - once the child is selected, he announces The Pole Is Greased, Master
• The selected is hoisted up, and has his bollocks slammed against the poles.

[anon]

Chris Spedding was so adept at this game that Mr Law often walked out of RE lessons to a jangling musical accompaniment.

[anon]

Then his family got involved.

After school one day Pumpkin was about to get into his mummy’s car when he was tripped by a boy half his age. “Ha-ha! PUMP-KIN!” laughed most people alive at the time.

Indignant, his mother burst out of the car, stuck her chest out and declared: “Yeah? Well I’m MRS Pumpkin!”

Pumpkin’s look of “Fucks sake, Mum” coupled with the realisation of where Pumpkin’s, well, pumpkin- ness came from, made for at least a term’s worth of impressions and some great halloween costumes.

thomas b

Mr Boyd whipped around from the blackboard and yelled “Excuse me, I’ve already had my breakfast!”

We all sat there in silence, wondering what he was talking about. He then explained with the following: “If you’re going to drink in my class, drink from a glass”.

So, Nick asked if he could go and get a glass. “NO!” shouted Mr Boyd.

Cue five minutes of stunned silence. Mr Boyd just stood there, obviously livid by this point, and asked “What are you all looking at me for?”

“Because you’re the teacher?” came the mousy reply from Joe Boyer. Pat then stormed out, allowing us a replacement teacher for the rest of the year.

Pogglesnatch

We were then escorted back to class.

Pogglesnatch

red a

This was when we decided to make explicitly detailed models of Steven Williams’ mum having it off with a big black man.

Ponky P

The judges hide behind a parked car or a low wall, and await results.

SCORING :

**Posture : ** Creating the crazy-armed impression that your limbs are mangled will enhance your score greatly.

**Sound Effects : ** Groaning, moaning, wailing, howling - all popular choices.

**Speed of Oncoming Vehicle : ** obviously you get more points if there’s squealing brakes, and the car stops with its front bumper over your forehead.

**Reaction of Driver : ** Anger beats upset, unless they’re really really upset, upset beats indifferent, indifferent beats joining-in laughter.

TWO THINGS, BARRY BERNDES :

1. Lie where you will be seen by the oncoming cars. Getting killed by the car is the equivalent of a 22 in Blackjack.

2. Don’t wear your school uniform if it’s easily identifiable, or there will be assemblies about it.

3. The Price Is Shite is a pun, and is therefore funny even if it has no relation to the game itself.

Anna W

If the patient took more than two seconds to answer, the psychoanalyst got to punch them, for ’therapy’. Ideally, the patient, under pressure, would say something like fuck after the psychoanalyst said something like donkey .

Alice S

This was the Paki Patch. If you successfully negotiated the Eggy Bumps, you then had the Paki Patch to get past. If you stood on it, you would automatically be deemed to be in love with Shetal, who had the uneviable status of being the only child of ethnic origin in a school full of cunts. I can’t remember whether she welcomed the daily stream of unwilling suitors, but looking back I strongly suspect that she didn’t.

The Eggy Bumps ? Did treading on these imply a romantic attraction to chicken foetuses? I think we should be told - Matt

Pete

The man from the Werther’s Original advert is not a paedophile. Older male children’s TV presenters were not paedophiles. PE Teachers who made you take showers were not necessarily paedophiles.

Labelling such people as paedophiles is not only lazy, obvious and weak, it also denigrates the comic potential of the real paedophiles, like Gary Glitter, and your dad.

Susan T

The school caretaker, however, is always a paedophile. Remember that. Remember it and remember how a shy smile can get you a free Mars bar.

Kit K

It was promptly confiscated by a P.E. teacher who, at the end of the day, gave it back with a grin and an angerless " you little scamp " tousle of my hair.

Within a second of him turning around, the other P.E. teacher confiscated it and kept it for an entire week.

How come one P.E. teacher managed to struggle through it in the course of only a single day, whilst the other took a week to mouth-breath his way through it?

Top 5 Reasons it might take a PE teacher a week to read Viz:<ol> - His fists are so clenched with perpetual rage that he has to turn the pages clumsily with his knuckles. - Every time he gets a joke, he has to take it to his girlfriend and say “that naughty cos the man dun poo wen he sed he wuddunt”. - He spent three days staring at the Vibrating Bum-Faced Goats before deciding it didn't make him want to wank. - In a moment of hungry confusion, he ate the Viz, and it took him a week to buy another because “doing things is like riddles”. - He stupid .</ol>

Jimbo B

Mr W. summoned the school football team one lunchtime for the first training session. Attendance was poor, and getting annoyed at this, he launched into a diatribe, haranguing those of us who actually showed up.

Mr. W: “Listen, if you’re not going to put the effort in, it’s not worth even having a team.”

Me: “Uh, Mr. W, we are here, it’s the others who need to know this.”

Mr. W (un-derailed by mere relevance): “I’ve put so much effort in, and for you not to show up is a sign of disrespect.”

Me: “No, but we did show up.”

Mr. W continued in this vein for some time. No wonder he was only a P.E. teacher.

Little B

And they’re off.

Ten kids hurtle down the track encouraged by the shouts of 500 kids and adults. But - within a few seconds, the noise falters, withers, then dies completely. Apart from a faint " phut phut phut phut phut “.

Peter Bliss, with a furious look of red-faced determination etched on his spotty mug, is running faster than all the other competitors. He just isn’t running in the right direction. Nobody’s watching the race any more; all eyes are on Peter as he runs straight through the crowd of kids and shellshocked parents, and straight across the empty playground behind.

He runs straight into the toilets. With a big pile of shit tumbling out the back of his shorts.

It doesn’t stay quiet for very long.

[anon]

( I bet it rhymed garden with hard-on, though. If it didn’t, you had no place making up theme tunes about portable gardens - Log )

[anon]

[anon]

caroline

Mrs. Bergstrum the biology teacher clearly checked the wrong box when ordering dissectable fetal pigs from hog-bit providers Edmund Scientific.

What showed up instead was a reinforced drum of full-sized adult pig heads swimming in their own facial sweat. Making the best of her mistake, an attempt was made to dissect these in class, but this failed miserably as no one could get through the skull.

Sensing potential, someone slipped accidentally on purpose, a pig head ended up on the floor, a head was thrown, a girl screamed, and things went from bad to worse.

Soon enough, the unused heads began to disappear from their storage cabinet and show up in girls’ lockers, the ball bin at the gym, staring up sadly out of the toilet bowl, etc.

For a few days, these heads were everywhere .

Interest waned when the fruit flies arrived.

Redcoffin T

Our Biology class ended up doing the fetal pig dissection at around the same time as our English class was reading Lord of the Flies. By the afternoon, there was a line of little heads on the ends of pencils in the garden outside the school. It was beautiful.

Hannah P

It began in the October I think, the location was a horticultural college in Kent. The modu operandi varied but the result was always the same. The shock discovery of a turd in places where you really didn’t want to make such a discovery. The first discovery was made in an empty bath (on reflection I think this is worse than a full bath)in one of the girls’ bathrooms. The choice of this target was inspired, the outrage and gossip the act generated already meant that the Phantom Shitter had attained legendary status. The folowing months were to cement his (or her) place in history.

Over the next few months turds began appearing at random times and in random locations. Often they were contained in a tupperware container, or they were left on a deliberately cleared surface (so to heighten the aesthetic impact one would suspect). The actions stopped in as sudden manner as they started. The strtange thing is that once it stopped, we all missed the anticipation of the next discovery. And no, it was not I and we never did discover who it was. The Phantom Shitter, will however be a part of all of those who experienced it forever. Today, I see it as a kind of performance art.

Monkey B

The phantom shitter struck in our school too. After laying a few hum-drum journeyman turds on toilet floors and in storage cupboards, he topped off his career by shitting off a lighting platform in the rafters off our huge assembly hall. The hall - called “Big School” for some reason - is where the end of the film “Clockwise” with John Cleese was shot. To this day I find the mental image of a poo falling thirty feet onto rows of plastic chairs funnier than the entire film.

[anon]

It is a testimony to the magnitude of my emotional givingness that we remained on good terms. That and the fact he promised not to grass me up.

[anon]

This hidden notoriety only revealed itself more than 10 years later, at a party for a departing teacher, when parents and faculty members alike chose her as the subject for their fancy-dress costumes.

[anon]

Although the teacher thought she was assigning pencils at random, little did she know that she was actually defining our social status for the rest of the term.

Red, red, wet the bed
Blue, blue, smells of poo
Green, green, parasheen (a totally made up word which sounded like it should mean something cool)

Yellow was casually skirted around cos no-one could think of anything that rhymed with it.

The special ‘parasheen’ status was a blessing, but the glory could be short lived. An owner of a green pencil could be given a red or blue pencil in the next school term, bringing them back down to earth to join the common folk.

Those on the bottom of the social pile were known to try and colour their pencils in with felt tips, but this only resulted in green palms and being called David Bellamy.

Clare W

* Apart from “Windy” Miller the teacher and his extravagant pigeon strut.

Leigh L

Pop’s Torture Support Group

This was inflicted on me several times by my older brothers. I’m writing about it here in the hope that someone will have experienced the same humiliation at some point in their infancy. Maybe we could, you know, talk about it.

Ginger T

Conversely, never borrow a pencil off a boy, as this also means you want to have sex with him. A rubber is alright, as long as it is scented. But scented rubbers are gay, so it’s not alright, because that means you want to have sex with him.

[anon]

Girls should also be mindful of the colour of the pencil they would like to borrow from a boy. If a girl wants a pink or purple pencil, she wants to see your cock, and if she wants a brown pencil, she wants you to bum her.

No-one should ever try to borrow a yellow pencil.

Pogglesnatch

This is what would happen if they let them in the Army.

Ponky P

Half a pound of nuts and bolts,
Half a pound of plastic.
Stick them in the washing machine,
Out pops a spastic!

The single redeeming feature of this rhyme is the jubilant bursting out of the washing machine by the freshly manufactured spastic. You could almost imagine him with a rose between his teeth and jazz hands.

[anon]

Based on the (pooless) Scottish sword dance, the protagonist cavorts above the poo to the strains of a pretend bagpipe. Points are awarded for technical complexity and how close the Clarks goes to the poo without touching it.

The game ends when the Dancer either stands in the poo or gets bored and, if it is a dry poo, kicks it at a spectator.

[anon]

Witnessed only once, on a lane close to my home. A large, firm dog turd had been painstakingly cut into sections and arranged to form the imperative “EAT ME”. I was young enough to wonder whether there might have been magic growth or shrinkage qualities transferred to the eater had I obeyed; but not quite brave enough to try. Now I’ll never know.

Andrew F

Some healthy scepticism here from Nick concerning the veracity of Andrew Freeman’s poo story.

Christ’s cock and balls, Freeman. “A large, firm dog turd”? The Hound of the fucking Baskervilles itself must have laid that cable if we’re to believe there was enough of it to spell out “EAT ME”.

Next you’ll be posting an entry to say that the following night, an artfully arranged “LICK ME” appeared written in piss up the side of a lamppost.

Nick H

On cold frosty mornings poo found on the pavement could be more fearlessly kicked at passers by, safe in the knowledge that only the freshest, steamiest of bobs would not be frozen solid. Sadly the impact on the target is less impressive thanks to the very same splat-failure.

Life is a compromise.

[anon]

Stand face to face with your mate, the poo between you, and link hands over the poo in a soldier’s grip. The name of the game is to push and pull your mate until he steps in the poo.

Simple, effective, entertaining. Best practiced when your mate is wearing new shoes with good, deep treads.

[anon]

Alternately, simply stick explosive bangers into them. I did this a lot, for some reason.

No, I’m being coy - I know why I did it. It’s because I found it entirely hilarious.

griff

Putting a banger in a dog poo is all very well, but it isn’t playing with the life of another living thing .

• Place a banger in the path of a large black slug.
• Wait until the slug gets close. Move the banger if the slug changes direction.
• Light the banger.
• Watch the slugs antennae spring up in terror, as it realises what is happening.
• Run backwards as the slug strains to do a 180.
• Try to find traces of big black slug in the surrounding area for the proper, respectful burial.

[anon]

[anon]

More importantly, there was a number at the bottom of the glass. This number was, quite simply, your age - for that dinner hour anyway.

The higher the number, the better. Being 2 or 3 was shameful, of course. However, being 89 was better than being 21 - a display of respecting your elders that would leave the doddering old cunts proud.

dave g

After the sexual state of mind had left “girls are revolting poo I don’t like handstands”, and just before it had reached “wow I am up to my balls in girl” - in that brief period where you were hypnotised by girls doing handstands - then the number on the bottom of a Duralex drinking glass equated to the number of girls you had slept with.

89 was considered respectable. Only having slept with 34 girls at the age of 14 was a sign of severe frigidity, impotence, and (inevitably) gayness.

Girls, never keen to appear the slag, used these numbers to say how many boyfriends they had. Or how many roses their one true love had given them. But never how many dicks they could take simultaneously.

This is what makes men and women are different, and it is why one of them leaves toilet seats up, although I can’t remember which. But it’s annoying!

[anon]

Billy F

At the end of the science block in Singleton High School, there’s a small underpass. When I was in year 11 or so, we overheard some year 7 kids declare that it was the Poofter Hole , after one of their friends inadvertently walked through it.

I mentioned this to my wife many years later who, coincidentally, went to the same school as me. She was surprised to hear it called the Poofter Hole and wasted no time in pointing out my obvious blunder; everybody knows damn well that it was Lezzo Lane .

[anon]

Mr “Sumo” Taylor is married, and has produced children.

Little N

a) Steve

b) The utterly horrible food

So, to punish Steve and the hostel, all we had to do was piss in Steve's bed. When I say 'we', I mean 'I'. And so I found myself pissing onto a mattress in Austria.

In hindsight, it wasn't really worth it. My God, I can't believe I pissed onto somebody's bed.

Matt S

In the last year of primary school we all went to an adventure camp, and there was much japery in the dorm. In my absence, two of my mates urinated onto my pillow from the top of the neighbouring bunk. It had dried by the time I put my head down to sleep, and I tried to convince myself that the smell was wafting up from beneath my duvet, but you can tell the smell of your own piss, and I had a pretty good idea of who the culprits were. Needless to say I didn’t speak to them for the rest of the holiday.

Pierre F

Warning. This will not work with a regular camera because the lab will call the police and you will be arrested for fucking a nostalgic biscuit.

Take a packet of Jammy Dodgers into school. Offer them around, with assurance that they haven’t been spat on. The second the biscuit is in their mouth, show them the Polaroid.

The photo is good for around three packets of Jammy Dodgers before word gets around that it’s a joke. Or that you’re the guy who puts his dick on Jammy Dodgers.

[anon]

He’ll certainly have a “JAMMY DODGER” after that.

Do you mean “Jammy TODGER?”
You fucked up the punchline! Hahaha! Your name’s Bulmer. BELMER, MORE LIKE! BELLLLLMMMMMMMMMMM. - Mansh

Dave B

If someone is creeping up on you with a view to ripping the label out of your underwear, however, don’t say “If you pull that off, I’ll pull yours off”.

If you did say that, hilarity would surely ensue.

red a

Next, year 8, writing ‘fuck’ in an essay on pirates. Pirates DO say “Fuck”! Good examples are: ‘fuckin land ahoy’ and ‘yarrrr me fucker.’ and ‘fuckin shiver me fuckin timbers.’

They. DO.

Davy

Bonus round! While the wound was healing it would normally grow a bubble full of pus. Simply smack the bubbles of fellow supatuff pupils, and bathe in the yellow spatter.

Angelina M

Occasionally however, in an effort to avoid the towel slipping out (from the friction of the carpet), which it sometimes did, I would stick the towel up my bum a bit too far, so that the corner went a bit brown. Then my brother would go and tell Mum and it would ruin the whole game.

Daniel S

I though this would be funny but it appears to have taken me to a dark place. Still, there it is.

PS I don’t think I’ve libelled anyone, have I? That’s why I left out all the names. Also the rumours about the hard drive and the pictures and the prison sentence. But I daresay you’re awash with those.

[anon]

I didn’t know that this was a widely-known joke until recently when I was perusing a children’s joke book.

[anon]

Of course, when we said pillow-biter it meant something a lil’ different.

griff

And constantly, constantly, failing.

petrocelli

Nath D

Leopold B

Our physics teacher would ask it questions like “Will you pass your exams?”, and then answer himself in a high pitched voice, saying “<code>Yes Mr Ward!</code>”, while jiggling the cardboard box with his hand.

One story that proves that the insanity of teachers isn’t always entertaining.

Jimmy D

The game came to a thrilling climax when the best McGregor, Naomi Smith, would proudly announce that her piles were playing up. We didn’t know what piles were. I bet she does now, though. Ha.

Nicki S

" Look into my eyes… "

His eyes, like Kaa the Python from the Jungle Book, whispered Trust In Me … then he slammed his knee into my tender sweetbreads, and said;

" Your balls are paralysed. “.

In Derbyshire you’d just get a good kicking. Twice. Fucking Leicester fops .

Nick H

As many people as they dared stood up at their desks and re-enacted the movements of their favourite porno flick (by themselves, no homo porno was allowed). This may have envolved getting oral, doing anal, straight, the ‘wheelbarrow’ or any other sordid image we could conjur up. Props were allowed including chairs, tables, cuboards, bins and board rubbers.

This went on for a maximum of five seconds, when everyone sat down and carried on working in complete silence as if nothing had ever happened.

Half the fun was the expression on the teachers faces, where you could see ‘did that just actually happen?’. Most of the hard pressed staff chose to ignore it. Until Russell, a genius playground terrorist, took it too far and ran up to a French teacher during a porn break, and pretended that she was giving him a blowjob, then fucking her, then he bent over in an act I can only guess, that she was rimming his arse. We all paused, mid-pump and gaped in awe and respect. We quietly sat down as Russell was dragged from the room by the scarlet faced teacher.

Porn breaks dwindled away after that, Russell was the undisputed king and in that summer of 1992 he became a hero for a brief time. Until he got suspended for making hoax IRA bomb threats to the staff room….but that’s another story.

Darren L

My budding porn empire came crashing down when I was confronted by a PE teacher holding a print-out of a picture of a lady pleasuring herself with a cucumber, and the question “is this your mum?”

Mr L

Toilet T

Mr B

Interesting how an assembly can be held on the issue of someone (me) shitting in a urinal without mentioning anything at all. For example…

" The cleaning ladies have complained about someone inappropriately using the facilities… and that the person responsible knows what we are talking about mean by that and I hopes it will not ever happen again, because measures will have to be taken if such an occurrence should repeat itself. "

[anon]

After a while, you develop a killer instinct for tracking down the Fairy’s wares, and swoop like a hawk on any stray pieces of coloured paper that catch your eye. This often lasts into adulthood, resulting in fully-grown men who can’t pass a bin without a quick rummage, and who will vault over fences and chase through fields after that distant piece of glossy that invariably turns out to be nothing more than a discarded Sunday Mirror magazine.

<I>MUTINOUS ENTRY-CRASH FROM AN EDITOR: Seriously dude, Porn Fairy? Are we going to have entries for White Dog Poo and Spangles reminiscences? There’s a fine line between whimsical memory jogging and tired out old stand-up routines that are such lazy comedy cliches they have in themselves become lazy comedy cliches. What next- “Was Mr. Benn gay?” “Is it me or were Cadburys Crème Eggs a lot bigger when we were kids?” JESUS. Log and Phil, my fellow eds, I’m looking at you in a tutting type way.*

Mr B

If you’re going to publically ridicule my post, can you at least take my name off it? I can’t believe I come and visit a playground on the internet, and I get picked on by the big kids. Twats.

Mr B

And another thing, like you’d include “you killed Jesus” if it hadn’t been submitted by someone off the telly. Back-slapping bum-sucking bastards.

Old S

NOW HEAR THIS. I WILL NOT TOLERATE UNPLEASANTNESS TO THE CONTRIBUTORS. IF IT’S SHIT, IT DOESN’T GO IN. WE DON’T PUT ENTRIES IN, THEN TAKE THE PISS. MUCH. SUSAN. SAY YOU’RE SORRY TO DYFRIG.

Jon B

Um, I’m sorry Dyfrig. I have now realised when you abuse others, you are only abusing yourself. My bad. If this was really school, now would be the time when the teacher revealed my parents are divorcing, or I’ve been bullied for not starting my period yet, and everyone would go “aaaaah” in understanding. Shall we all hug now?

Susan T

No, it’s too late. One of my real life friends has seen this, and my internet ridicule has become real world ridicule. The only course of action left to me is to tell my parents that I’m doing my homework, and hang myself in my bedroom. You’ll be sorry then.

Mr B

The act of swinging a smaller child by the fur-rimmed hood of their Lord Anthony parka until rippage, flight or boredom ensues.

More fun can be had by tying the parka’s cords to the metal bars on the bus home, giving the wearer two choices - a new coat or an unplanned trip to town, missing Grange Hill.

[anon]

griff

Your starter for ten: a highly childish assault on the periodic table achieved by inserting the word “Jimmy” after the symbol for copper (‘CU…Jimmy’).

[anon]

But bizarrely, not the letters n and t.

[anon]

Battles last around 5 minutes, after which people will be bruised and breathless, unless someone has watched Van Damme’s Bloodsport, in which case noses will generally be broken.

Karl L

Each level began with a sample from Jack Nicholson as The Joker, saying " Gentlemen – let’s broaden our minds “, after which you would immediately thrash your joystick from left to right. This action would animate one of a series of very short films, which included a bean-flicking incident and some hot three-way pixels.

Although obviously a humourous game, it was quite frustrating for people actually wanting to pleasure themselves, what with having your hands otherwise occupied. You could convince a friend to waggle the joystick for you; but if you’re that close you might as well just toss each other off anyway.

Additional features include colour cycling for those who want to watch green fingers slide into a deathly grey vagina.

Jon B

e.g. Sid Khan, who spent two terms making lunchtime passes at Robert Wilson, who never knew what the hell to do. Strangely, this game makes the victim seem gayer than the perpetrator, their inability to decide upon the best way to deal with the situation being interpreted as " actually thinking about it “.

The only way to truly recover your heterosexuality is to punch the gay pretender, or to violently ram your penis up his anus until everyone knows the joke is over.

[anon]

A fairly rare second year pastime, which involved staring ’longingly’ at the subject of ridicule during lessons.

When they turned to look back, you’d sharply look away, and busy yourself with your work, perhaps putting the finishing touches to a pencil sketch of your victim.

This is continued throughout the lesson, until the victim is either irritated to fuck, or harbouring his first nervous hopes of love.

For instance, Graham Matthews always reacted with this game with a genderbending cocktail of embarressment, anger and curiosity.

Pretending to be gay outed him to all.

[anon]

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 “.

Bionic S

Alternatively, penis out, legs open which is a general term for tediously drawn out foreplay.

[anon]

Also an alternative name for a mag (qv), where the penis is so small that it could fit through the hole of the Polo Mint.

[anon]

The Polo Hole is the female equivalent. Can be said in the same way Kenny Everett’s “Air Hair Lair” (sounding like a posh and camp “Oh, Hello”), to make “Pear Lair Hair-l”.

Alternatively, just scream PURRRLLLEH HUUURRRRL.

[anon]

Neil R

The Polo Challenge can be adapted to form the Fisherman’s Friend Supermatch Game. One Fisherman’s Friend is pretty hot, and will clear out your sinusses. Three or four, and you’ll be batting the back of your head and weeping steam. Put the whole pack in your mouth, and a curious anaesthesia will take you, and your mouth will puddle with spicy drool. Racing to eat the Fisherman’s Friends in this state will result in you biting your own mouth to shreds, numb and oblivious to the trauma you are causing to gob and tooth.

As played by a rosy-cheeked, spangly-chompered teenage Shane McGowan.

[anon]

Patrick offers this eye-watering advanced-level variant:

Two competitors would crunch-eat a whole pack of Extra Strong Mints as fast as humanly possible, then drink an entire bottle of lemonade in one swig. The last person to pass out/have a seizure/drown in their own fizz was declared the winner. A popular spectator sport.

Patrick K

It pissed the boys off no end, as they didn’t get any bag for needing a shave, or having a wank.

We would, as consolation, share our tampons with them, so we could all play wet the tampon with liquid soap and throw it at the ceiling .

Tampons remained stuck to the ceiling when I left, two years later.

[anon]

Seriously, you could fit a beach ball through there.

Chris G

Anyone remember “In The Night Kitchen” by Maurice Sendak? It uses drawings of a naked boy, and in one picture he’s standing on a giant milk bottle shouting “Cock A Doodle Doo!” with his own doodle doo sticking out. Always made us hysterical.

Heidi C

In my school you were forced to study the Holocaust in history. Each year, every student was issued a book called “The Jewish Journey,” or something equally catchy. The books were ancient, and all had some degree of graffiti inside. It wasn’t until my year though, that a fully co-ordinated graffiti strike was arranged, and each picture in every book was given the same caption or speechbubble.

e.g A dead malnourished Jew says, obviously, “Give me a sandwich.” A trainload of unfortunates on their way to a death camp sing, “We’re all going on a summer holiday.”

It wasn’t until Mark emptied out his pencil case, put it on top of Johnny’s head and called him a “Dirty skullcap wearing kyke,” that it was brought up in assembly. And Mark was suspended. Ah… days. Those were them.

waffle

Xray S

In retrospect, it’s hard to escape the suspicion that the entire game was a a flimsy bolt-on to a rather poor pun - but it still kept us out of trouble. Readers may also be interested to know that as a mature(-ish) adult I harbour no cloacal tendancies and that this was obviously “just a phase”.

Rik B

Jack H

Boys will generally reply “er, Playgirl… I mean Playboy”. Cue much laughter as you loudly repeat their first answer for anyone in earshot whilst jumping up and down and pointing.

Donkey K

Garry S

John L

I also suffered this humiliation. I also remember on my first day at school the teacher mentioning that the next day we would be doing PE. As a 4 year old who had never heard this acronym before, I went home explaining to my mum that the next day we had to take peas to school.

Am I the only one thinking that this story is lovely, but not quite what it could be? Wouldn’t it have been ace if Clare had gone home and said that the teacher made her do pee in her pants , which started a neighbourhood furore and eventually lynching of a paediatrician? Harumph! - Log

Clare W

Alexander P

[anon]

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.

Bobs M

There was also the quasi-sophisticated retort “A punch and a kick for being so quick.” This implied that the pinch-puncher didn?t even know the appropriate time for such tomfoolery, and had gone blustering in like an overexcited toddler.

Jonny B

Also consider ’ A poke in the eye for being so sly ‘. Best to use your thumb for accuracy.

Rachel G

[anon]

If you’re wise to the “pretty, intelligent girl” conversion for PIG, then call the girl a PIP, which is the nice compromise of " pretty intelligent pig “.

Craig H

Imagine trying to explain to a group of five-year-olds why someone has to shit in a bag and carry it around all day.

Maybe now you can imagine Matthew’s predicament, from now on he was the poo collector, and it became apparent to us that if he collects his own poo, he should want to collect ours, and was therefore to be avoided at all costs. So we managed to make the chronically ill kid in our year a chronically ill outcast.

As far as I know he’s still alive somewhere, filthy cunt.

Richard J

In middle school a boy was telling the class as part of story time that his little brother had what was called a ‘colostomy bag’.

People started sniggering, much to the disgust of our teacher, but what finished us all off was when the boy tried to make us feel guilty, by yelling indignantly over the laughter - " MY BROTHER HAS NO WILLY! "

jenny h

James T

Pascal, wrestles grizzly bears.

Pascal, in the open air.

Pascal, in his underwear.

Pascal, that’s why we don’t care.

If we were really so indifferent to Pascal’s habits, however, it’s odd that we spent so much time singing about how much we didn’t care.

[anon]

[anon]

See also: Biro burns -furiously scribble a biro in the back of a text book or on a bit of cardboard for a few minutes then press the hot nib into the skin on the back of your hand to give yourself an everlasting freckle.

Some kids in my school gave themselves haggard looking smiley faces. I didn’t. I wasn’t that stupid, even then.

Alistair G

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.

Bionic S

[anon]

For some reason our school was extremely prone to such poo-related pranks. Three quick stories spring to mind:<ol> - Firstly, I once wandered in to a cubicle (presumably to blow my nose since I never once had a poo in a school cubicle, not being clinically insane) to be confronted by a wonderful sight: Someone had created an elaborate nest of toilet roll, pinning it in place majestically with the bog seat. They had then planted a single turd smack bang in the middle. What they did with the rest of their shit, piss, etc, and whether or not they went into another cubicle to wipe their arse is unknown to me. - Secondly, in year 8, our absurdly naive head of year Miss Baines informed us that someone had shat in a paper tea cup and balanced said cup on top of a toilet door, with the result that it landed on the caretaker’s head, and “he had to go home to clean himself up”. Since we were 12 or 13 at the time, the reaction was not the shocked horror that Miss Baines expected, needless to say. I still can’t stop laughing at the thought of an evil genius squatting over a paper tea cup and then somehow getting out of the bogs having balanced the cup on the top of the inside of the only exit. Especially considering the toilet in question was internal and had no windows. - Finally, my brother once saw a turd outside in the playground, in a crisp packet. I do not know what brand of crisp it was, but my brother assured my that it was “definitely human shit”.</ol>

Jack H

And I suppose if the kid started crying, you could all go “thar she blows!” and dance around clicking your heels and whooping, as though you’d struck oil like in them films. That sounds fun. Susan.

Tyrannosaurus F

A rather more fun (dangerous? fun? same thing…) version involved placing a steel chair on the torso of the victim so as to pin both arms to the floor above the elbow. Then, the heaviest kid we could find would kneel on the chair and proceed to give the poor bugger a double petrol pump… I think at the time of the idea’s conception we were supposed to be practicing the recovery position in the First Aid element of PE. We all passed and got certificates.

Rich V

Dupli C

Chief C

The public leaning post interpretation only really works at full effect on shorter people.

For taller victims, use the slightly more rubbish proper living person . Or just don’t bother.

Alex B

Also; piece of lavatory paper.

[anon]

This baffles me. You could choose any three word insult, and say - are you a HRL? Then say - ha ha, you’re a hairy rectum licker ! Or, what, you’re not a highly regarded lover ?, depending on their answer.

There aren’t three letters you couldn’t do it to. XQZ - Xenophobic Queer Zoophile or Xtrasexy Quad-Speed Zazzmerchant?

So why was there so much focus on PLP? Is there a proper meaning for it? And while I’m at it, that second entry makes no sense, because you’re changing the answer to a NO response, when it’s only when they answer YES that the person’s height becomes material.

This whole entry is shrouded in befuddlement from start to finish. Except for piece of lavatory paper , which is bummy.

(Update from Richard Edwards - I’m almost positive it’s because there was a series of text books called PLP. It stood for the Primary Learning Package, or something. I don’t know, I just know there was a drawing of a frog on the cover. Thanks, Richard.)

Richard E

Jon B

Basketball : Any self regulating sport doesn’t really need a teacher watching it - sit in the staff room and let the little bastards sort it out themselves. Maintain a professionalism by occasionally nipping in, blowing a whistle, and shouting a random surname.

Jon B

The twelve minute run : A peculiar form of pointlessness, inflicted by PE teachers. At least once a year, we were made to run round and round the PE hall for twelve minutes. How many times each person got round was recorded, for no very apparent reason. having been worst in my class several times in a row, the PE teacher asked me concernedly if I smoked. I didn’t, I was just very bad at running.

Dorian E

Open gym, leave the equipment room unlocked, get the teacher’s assistant to do attendance then leave the class to its own devices, getting paid for sitting in the P.E. office with the door locked looking at porn for an hour and a half.

The teacher got more exercise than we did.

[anon]

The Fun Run .

The Fun Run involved running around the perimeter of the school grounds. It was nearly identical to the much more joyless cross-country running . However, as our teacher was canny enough to call it the Fun Run , we enjoyed ourselves immensely.

min g

If you can’t be arsed to even stand and blow a whistle every now and then, why not assign the two most annoying and unpopular kids to referee a basketball match? It’ll give them a little taste of power, bless, and will result in them getting pulped in the changing rooms by the losing team.

One team wins, one team gets to hit someone, and one bullied boy gets the whiff of authority that will drive him in adult life to start a corporation that menaces old ladies out of their homes so he can build a car park. Until that old woman works out how to reach the A-Team, at which point he’ll cop a cabbage in the chops.

Everyone’s a winner!

Jon B

Lee

The extended version is ‘pakis don’t come in tins, they come in busloads from bristol.’

blee a

Also consider the use of racial panic; ’ pakis don’t come in tens sir, they come in thousands ‘.

pepe l

[anon]

Mark P

Marc S

Jim G

Personal arse licker. As in, are you my pal?

Martin D

Jon B

“You're going to own a mansion shaped like a finger.”

After two or three predictions, hawk up a huge greenie into their palm and inform that that it is their swimming pool. Luxurious.

Actually, this trick was seen on The Simpson, episode 9F06, New Kid on the Block, along with Wet Willies. Is it funny if it's been on The Simpsons? Probably not.

[anon]

Also available as the punchline to the question “do you want your palm read?” is the ‘classic’ daubing of the outstreched hand with a red felt marker.

[anon]

A good comeback to someone playing this trick is to approach them and ask ‘can you read palms?’. Thinking that you have walked right into their hands, they will reply ‘yes’. You then reply ‘read this then’, at which point you extend your palm to reveal the words ‘YOU ARE A COCK’.

[anon]

Sophie L

Gilbo

Simon M

Two things - other amusing “all-rhyming names” are Big Horny Beaver (Sigourney Weaver) and Prick Fuck Balls (Mick Hucknall, from Pimply Head). Also, this is presumably the new 5th Year, and not the one that meant you were 15, when I were a lad

Jon B

Mark told us that he had something wrong with his willy - and that to treat it, his mum had to squeeze it every night until white stuff came out of the end.

At the time, we were deeply sympathetic to this awful affliction, envisaging some kind of hideous penis-boil combo. Nowadays I’d be fascinated to know just what the hell Mark’s mum thought she was up to.

Julian B

If a man is predisposed to prostate cancer, he has to ejaculate at least once daily to avoid getting cancer of the penis which leads to either death or castration.

That’s obviously what Mark’s mum was doing.

Osiris o

It was as heartbreaking as it was unstoppable. Patrick Seers. Bullied 8 hours a day, five days a week, for 5 years. Patrick Seers. Even the usual sympathetic types kind of gave in after two minutes of civil conversation, coming away with the sense that he did, somehow, deserve it. He played the euphonium.

He has also survived to become someone that exists, seems successful, and has - from limited Facebook snooping - developed a good circle of friends.

Just goes to show. It really does get better. And not just for the gay ones. For Patrick Seers.

Jon B

There is evidently a Patrick Seers in every town, in the same way that every country has a storyteller. In Cheltenham he is Jummow. He is exactly the same, in every respect. Except the getting better bit.

Si G

There is indeed one in every town. Ours was Hannaford, whose torments ranged from being forced (by verbal threats only) to masturbate during a maths lesson and eat the results, to the legendary crucifixion (to two cross-wise brooms while in only his Y-fronts, then hung out of a third floor window). He fucking loved every second of it.

Curly K

Scott Jameson signed his name followed by the initials LM. He was the library monitor, you see. And this fact was more important to him than not getting beaten for being a prick.

Duncan S

The worst thing about our version of Patrick Sears - Greg Edge - was that throughout his torture, he maintained a bright and cheery disposition, and was relentlessly nice to both his tormentors and those who ignored him.

It was like someone had told him that if you smiled and behaved well, everything would turn out all right in the end. And, like some grinning man-tard, he had believed them.

pepe l

My name is Patrick Sears and I am nothing like these things you explain. Maybe next time you decide to write something to leave out a name cause I am sure there are other people with your name that has done bad things too.

Hello, Patrick Sears! I hope for your sake that you are nothing like these things I explain! Point taken, Patrick - maybe next time I decide to write something to leave out a name - because as you so rightly say, there must be other people with my name that has done bad things. - Log

[anon]

Robin

Similar to Revels Russian Roulette. Find some kid who’s allergic to peanuts, and offer him Revel. He has a 1 in 6 chance of it containing a peanut. Even more fun if your victim doesn’t realise that those sweets you’re genourously offering are Revels.

Interestingly, revels nicked this game and turned it into a ‘deer hunter’ spoof advert. Only the ‘fatal’ revel was a coffee one. Cowards.

[anon]

Jimbob

I witnessed a severe case of peanutting in which the victim, rather alarmingly began to turn purple, choke and cough up blood.

Shrill

The term for extreme peanutting is, of course, ’ chokeanut '

[anon]

The ultimate form of the peanut, however, is the potentially mythical Atomic Peanut, where the knot becomes so small that a tiny explosion makes the kipper snap off.

dave g

At least one child in the school will have learned, probably through a familial connection, that there is a secret knot used by policemen. When tied with this knot, a tie cannot be peanutted - it simply releases, leaving the confounded crim holding a tie, and the rozzer free to throw them down the stairs.

When translated to the playground, however, this cunning trick will inevitably backfire as the peanutting bully will simply run off with your tie, leaving you to get in trouble for not wearing the correct uniform.

Douglas F

Calum F

You have 15 pens in an exciting variety of styles and hues. So do all the other members. It’s a whole bunch of fun. Who WOULDN’T want to be in the Pen Fifteen club? So the uncool kid, desperate to join the gang, collects together fifteen pens in an equally exciting variety of styles and hues, and proudly presents them to the club. “Brilliant!” you tell him. “You have fifteen pens! Now you can recieve the secret Pen Fifteen club sign!” Taking the biggest, blackest, and most indelible of your collection, you then write “PEN 15” in big letters on said kids hand. Gorgeous in its simplicity, and great for fucking with the sort of kid who really DID collect scented rubbers or unusual pencil sharpeners.

(PS: I believe there is already a submission for the Pen Fifteen club somewhere in the archives. However, mine is better, and I’d be willing to go head to head with the other contributor. Good luck in the swimsuit round.)

Susan T

The rumour that everyone in the room gets compensated for their mental trauma by getting a free A* means that most people have the vague, unspoken idea that witnessing a suicide would be fucking brilliant .

Jon B

I actually became good friends with someone a couple of years ago who claimed to have been in the room at the time of the ‘incident’. When I met him, he could barely talk due to severe drug abuse over the preceding years (presumably to get rid of the ’nasty’ images in his head) and he had a genuine fear of pencils - he was fine with pens but pencils would make him start shaking and crying. In retrospect, he was probably just another guy who took too much acid too young…he’s probably dead now.

[anon]

My best friend claims that when he was about 8 someone in his class called Wayne really did accidentally kill himself by putting pencils up his nose and bringing his head down on the desk. My friend's exact recollection of the incident was “I don't mind that I saw it happened, I mean, it made me the person I am today. I didn't really know what was happening to be honest, but there was fuckloads of blood.”

I just laughed because this urban myth is rife with fifteen year olds around the time of GCSE mocks. I still don't believe him but he swears it's true. It happened in Wigan, which makes it ever so slightly more believeable.

[anon]

File under pencil murder, anal .

Boy 1 holds pencil, point up, on chair of boy 2. Boy 2 sits down, pencil forcibly tears through his trousers into his rectum, shears through the sensitive tunnel, javelins the prostate gland, leaving the child in excruciating agony as he slowly dies of an internal bum haemorrhage.

This version is funnier because it has a bum in it.

The Boy T

A similar, but non-fatal, injury befell Nicholas Smith in our third year. Holding year-group assemblies in the dining hall was a brave move, given the dangerous mix of weaponry and boredom, but ironically it was a carefully positioned 3-inch pepperpot that did for him.

From my vantage point one bench behind the suspense was paralysingly funny, but when the time came he sat down with such vigour that it still sends a shudder through me to picture him rocketing back to his feet.

By sixth form he had taken to wearing an orange ankle-length frock around town.

[anon]

This isn’t connected to the classic exam-room urban myth, but one day school gippo and twelve-year-old Aphex Twin lookalike Louis Gibbs decided that his Dr Martens were most ideally used as pencil destroying machines. Maybe they were, in some ways. But not pencils that were pointing upright. And definitely not with a stamping action.

Those pencils slid through his Dr Martens as though they were fashioned from wet toilet paper. Louis rolled around on the floor screaming after jumping off the table onto one of these pencils. When a teacher entered the classroom and saw what had happened, he asked “Are you able to pull it out?” with an obvious lack of giving a shit.

I literally get high, giddy and sick when I remember seeing less than half a pencil sticking out of the sole of his shoe. Groo.

[anon]

Barry P

Jon B

Pete Beal’s Banana Bowl was, in fact, a style of cricketing bowl in which the ball takes a curving approach to the wicket.

Paul D

Was it? Blimey.

Jon B

Yes, it was. And jingo bingo wasn’t a childhood game, you invented it when you were 20 years old and in the final year of a law degree.

Paul D

Thank you, you can go back to being a solicitor now, Paul. Must you have the career and rob me of my credibility on the internet? This is the only place I exist, you merciless swine!

Jon B

Cunt. I didn’t even write this. You’re putting these words into my mouth.

Paul D

Louis T

Of course, a reply in the negative would result in the provision of a stamp anyway, accompanied with the line " Well, here’s one to start your collection ."

Mooky B

Jon B

It’s “my dads a banker and he banks all day”, actually. And I’m 15, so I should know.

[anon]

Is it me or did we used to bully 15 year olds who would say ‘actually…’ in a smarmy as marmite way?

You’re right. But it’s charming when they say it to grown-ups, like they’re one of us ! Believe it or don’t, my parents still remind of the time I said “I don’t see the point of creative writing” when I was four years old. If I heard a four year old saying that today I’d kick the little cunt’s neck in. - Log

tony d

Keith A

SmallPaul

Simon E

John P

There was a girl with webbed hands AND feet at our school. Even more strange was the fact that instead of a thumb she had another finger! All the boys called her a freak and a mutant, but their disgust didn’t seem to put them off and in the final year of school she got pregnant after sleeping around.

Freaky mutant slut.

[anon]

Stephen B

We did this on grass, but I couldn’t agree more about the homo-eroticism. I used to throw myself quite heartily into these melees, usually just after Chris Hackett.

Jon B

The pile-on takes on an even more homoerotic S&M wet play feel when Stuart Tough pisses his pants on top of everybody.

You can then, however, convince him that if he does laps of the school field for the remainder of lunch break, it will dry off so he won’t be sent home.

captain m

Jon B

Using needles instead of pins, many interesting things can be done with string, such as tying attractive bows, hanging weights, etc. For that little extra something, thread all the needles with the same cotton, then pull them out in front of a girl.

[anon]

pinfinger puppet shows

Puppets are made by making stick people out of safety pins, and attaching their arms to the index and thumb of your right hand, and the legs to the index and thumb of the left. More effective when a few people get into the act. Also works with paper clips.

( How? How does this work? Any photographs of this haunting pinfinger puppet show will be placed immediately on the front page. If Phil says it can. - Log

David M

I don’t know what kind of crazy smack you guys are on but pinfinger is :

<ol> - Getting a candle from art class. - Melting the wax onto the tips of your fingers. - Before the wax hardens, insert a drawing pin. - Scratch the face of the fucking dick who grassed you up for spitting off the top of the English block.</ol>

Make sure they know it’s a pinfinger, otherwise you might be confused with a girlie-fighting fingernailed ladyboy.

An addition to this basic pinfinger is to write AIDS over a bottle of Quink, and dip the pin into it before attacking. Make sure your victim sees this.

[anon]

For advanced pinfingerers there is pin-needling, which goes as follows;

Push needle with thread through the top of every finger.

Dip newly webbed hand in fairy liquid solution.

Wave your hand around to create multiple bubbles!

[anon]

Jon W

Jonesy

TizOr

This survives in a different form amongst adults. When you’re in a skaggy student nightclub, you can deter the “I’m so poor I steal beer and there’s no such thing as theft actually, if anything you stole that beer from society in the first place and I’m just reclaiming it” wankers by leaving untended pint pots of your piss around the place, and waiting, hoping, praying, that some cunt will steal it. I’m sorry - I just turned into Punt and Dennis.

Jon B

Steve G

Phil G

Ian D

A further refinement of this was to slip your hands throught the crooks of a smaller child’s arms whilst he was pissing, lift him up and spin him around, thus drenching all other kids in the immediate vicinity. Minutes of fun!

Callahan

Andy H

Steve E

Gavin

This also presented a keen opportunity for the playground entrepreneur.

Copy of low quality jazz mag - £2ish

Pages in low quality jazz mag - 50ish

Individual resale value of page - 20p

Near instant profit - £8

In a particularly ingenious twist, I sold the pages by a sort of raffle mechanism whereby the purchaser would ‘pick a number’. Thus, pages without pornography were simply “unlucky” rather than “unsellable”.

Obviously, there were certain overheads to be accounted for - the cut you’d have to give your elder brother to buy the magazine in the first place. However, these were easily outweighed by the cachet gained from being the school’s answer to Hugh Hefner.

Poo H

Si R

Here’s a great example of what makes the Internet wonderful. The RSPCA would be proud. About three months ago, I read the above entry and laughed so hard I nearly dropped my mouse. When I related it in a drunken state to a friend of mine in Swaziland - no less; never let it be said that LotP isn’t cosmopolitan - he decided to give it a go and actually IMPROVED the technique. The main problem (especially when numb of gum for chemical reasons) is controlling the bite pressure sufficiently to get a tune out so he discovered that if the cat is held like bagpipes, you can control pitch very effectively using elbow pressure. A certain amount of rhythm can also be introduced. Frankly, this is the single funniest thing I have ever seen and kept an entire room full of people rolling on the floor for a good hour - at which point of course the tail went gangrenous and dropped off.

Playground Uncovered: This is clearly such unabashed fibbery that it would be criminal for us not to present it in its unadulterated state. Mr Pappenheim, we salute you.

[anon]

Phil, you have offended the honour of my favouritely named contributor - Mr Pappenheim, defend yourself! - Log

Okay, so maybe the gangrenous bit is stretching the truth but in actual fact this is otherwise completely true. The cat player in question, it must be explained, is (a) Scottish and (b) resident in Swaziland, where he avails himself of a good 40 joints a day. Which might explain a lot. And yes, I do appreciate that that sounds even more ridiculous but things like this do happen in those strange countries out there, south of Brighton.

[anon]

Kevin D

Blacky

Anne-Marie

AS YOUTHS IN THE LATE SEVENTIES/EIGHTIES WE WERE ALL IN GANGS. WE WERE PunX N SKINZ BUT THE WAS ONE LAD WHO WAS A SMOOTHY(Scouse for casual dress). HE HAD THE FIRST PAIR OF POLYVELDTS WE'ED EVER SEEN,WE ALL HAD NICKNAMES BACK IN THE DAY. AN CONSEQUENTLY HIS NAME BECAME “Veltz”!!!

FIN@M@N L@

cf : We've already got the gold standard for browse.php?type=subject&id=42. Thanks for whatever the fuck that was, though!

[anon]

And of course when he realised that he was on a wild goose chase, he would stare darkly at all in the class, mutter under his breath…..and then wash his hands.

Fifteen years later and with the help of hindsight we recognise this behaviour as the start of Compulsive Obsessive Disorder that marked the start of John’s descent into Clinical Depression and mild Schizophrenia, aren’t you happy that our Teachers are such caring, perceptive professionals?

Arth.

Dave B

Mike

Joe90

Neil Woodcock (who already had enough trouble with his name, I might add) found himself battling head-to-head with Newton’s theory of gravity, when he held a stick of dog poo over his head and tried to launch it at me. The stick moved but the poo stayed where it was, for a while, anyway. Needless to say, Neil ended up with poo on his head.

[anon]

Dan W

Jeremy T

Rocky Shore P

This is also known as “scroating” if you’ve read books.

Steve M

Loz

Trevor C

Giles B

Ewan Thomas misunderstood the intricacies of the banana skin trick and grilled an entire banana. He then tried to smoke the charred remains in some sort of perverse Groucho Marx parody.

[anon]

Jon B

Stephen B

Kris F

Colonel F

Graeme B

Can also be a request to “Piss Up My Arse”

Chris H

Or “Please Use My Anus”.

Andy T

Marlon P

A purple durple was also known as a “Chinese Radio” because it looked like someone tuning one of the old style radios with two knobs and made the recipient go “EEEEEEOWEEEOEOOOOOOOOWWWWWEEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOWWOOOOOOOOOW!” You know, like all the Chinese do.

Gotty G