Step 1.

Gather your material, making sure that every single satirical article, poem and/or cruel caricature targets the pathetic maths teacher Mr Wills. Don't forget to poke fun at him specifically for his shitty breath, his weight, his psoriasis-afflicted scalp, his alcohol problem, his cheap clothes, his overactive sweat glands, his effeminate girly voice and the open secret that his wife left him for a hotel manager. Don't hold back! Really go to town.

Be bloody, bold and resolute, ruthlessly suppressing any qualms you might have about the ethics of kicking this fragile shell of a man to death.

Step 2.

Print magazine, distribute on the second-last day of school, enjoy minor sensation caused. Get called up with your fellow Oscar Wildes to the headmaster's office for a half-hearted bollocking in which the headmaster more or less agrees that Mr Wills is a complete fucking loser, and why did you have to go after the poor man like that?

Step 3.

Find out the following year that Mr Wills took early retirement. See him a year or so after that in your local shopping centre, three times his previous size, barely able to walk, face covered in blotchy scabs, wearing stained tracksuit pants, pushing a slab of Diet Coke along in a trolley and looking forlorn, abandoned, and utterly, utterly collapsed.

Step 4.

Feel guilty for the rest of your life.

[anon]

Stakes could be raised by twicing teachers, or twicing someone twice.

Alistair H

I only hope you are happier now in your role as proprietor of the local “Mr Minit” key cutting and shoe repair emporium.

Over to you, Mr Wilson. No, it was a Yale, you twit. That’s a shoe. - Matt

[anon]

Bryce H

What you do is, turn the tv off and with a black felt tip draw a small black rectangle somewhere on the screen. Then turn the tv back on again, and if someone on the tv stands behind the black mark, making it look like they have a Hitler ’tache within fifteen seconds, you get a point. Bonus points are awarded if it is a toddler or an old woman.

Try it at home now. You KNOW you want to. - Matt

Kev L

Oh noes! Ghosts!

But later, when we were in year 6, we were sent to tidy the PE cupboard at lunchtime and we realised that THAT was the other side of the ‘haunted’ door! When the door handle rattled, we dutifully rattled it back to the sound of hordes of small children screaming.

This story made me feel warm.

Hannah E

[anon]

One pair of your granny’s tights

One tennis ball

How to play:

Put one leg of the tights inside the other. Put the tennis ball into the foot end of the tights. Grab the gusset end, stand against a wall in the shape of a star, and swing the ball against the wall in a mad frenzy whilst singing playground songs such as “A sailor went to sea, sea, sea”.

Purpose of game:

Absolutely none at all.

WARNING: Overzealous bouncing may cause occasional black eyes and sore bollocks.

[anon]

[anon]

For use in lower set maths classes only.

(They also specialised in brightly-coloured over-chunky protractor, compasses and set square packs, for ham-fisted thickos.)

some o

With hindsight, I wish I’d had the vision to realise the gag’s full potential and never come back.

Drew S

Your mate is standing on a ridge / riverbank / cliff. Push him hard toward the edge, and then yank him back in one fluid movement whilst shouting “Tell yer Mam I saved your life!”

We never actually did this on a cliff, but the minging pond in the school grounds was a popular choice.

Being harder than you, the hard kids would just push you in, shouting “Tell yer Mam I couldn’t be bothered!”

That pond stunk.

[anon]

We rushed around them and shouted: “Did you sex?”

Angela gleefully squeaked “Yes, he put it up me”, while Dan showed one of his fingers to his mates and got some of them to smell it.

Now, although we were ten years old and the closest we had got to sex was finding half a muddied page of Razzle in a tree stump, most of us still realised that Daniel should have been offering up his cock for smelling.

After accusations that they never really did it, Angela grew flustered and upon shouting “Yes we did, you can still see it”, she hitched up her skirt and showed us the string of a tampax that Dan had inserted into her, apparently believing THIS was sex.

This resulted in an emergency tampon safety lesson, after a pupil told a PE teacher she needed a tampax so she could go all the way with her boyfriend after the school Christmas disco.

A few years on, Angela told me she had four of her dad’s dildoes in her backpack, and that he often asked her to ‘keep them warm’ for him…

She also got pregnant ‘in her back’ in year nine, and later had a threesome in some mud with Ashley Bell and Janice Walsh, which resulted in Ashley getting dysentery.

Rachael S

I’m regretting showing you the site at all now, mum. Conor.

[anon]

The winner is the toilet that pulls the bigger half of the paper down its greedy sluice.

A knock-out tournament can then be organised to discover the “ultimate toilet”. Nick Ledwell was incredibly proud that he used the ultimate toilet until it was pointed out that this was the toilet that loved guzzling shit the most, making it the ultimate gay toilet. And so the ultimate toilet became the least-used toilet.

Pogglesnatch

I refused a couple of times, showing off, until Cowley became irritated, and threatened me with detention. So I slouched off, grumbling, to find the year head. As I walked past Cowley, and in full view of the class, he smacked my arse.

I was fifteen at the time and horrified for 2 similar, but distinct reasons:

<ol> - Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse.

• Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse in front of all my mates.
  </ol>He may well have meant it as a gesture to snap me out of my slouch and speed me up, but to everyone in the class, it was a private, tender moment of bum-fondling between two very gay lovers.

They proceeded to draw cartoons of Cowley doing various foul things to me, culminating in a cartoon on the main notice board, of me being fisted by Cowley whilst wearing a bondage mask and a speech bubble protruding from my mouth declaring that I didn’t want him to use any lubricant.

captive a

Things became worse for him in more ways than he could ever have imagined when he informed us that, “He CAN come, there just isn’t anything IN it!”

[anon]

He would run home from the swings, excuse himself from Sunday dinner, whatever it took to ensure a safe deposit. Years later we opened it and to this day, I know I’ll never smell anything like it (think ammonia with depth ) - this was pre-ebay days otherwise I reckon Phil would now be a squillionaire and I, a proud brother.

How much would YOU pay for a box of trumps? Earlier on, I ate a corned beef pasty and I’ve got the tupperware ready and waiting - Mansh

[anon]

My friend Claire used to tell everyone how she could do anything at school because the caretaker was her uncle. We all believed her until one evening when he caught her climbing over the fence into the school garden and he told her to fuck off.

[anon]

Putting my plan into action, I burst dramatically through the door, saw a couple of big Year 12s washing their hands, apologised and left.

Excellent work, Pierre. Have you had the comedic high point of your life unjustly robbed from you? Tell us how funny you really are, even though nobody knows it!

Pierre F

When I was very small, I heard an older boy exiting the school toilets and saying “it bloody well stinks in there”. I thought this was by far the funniest thing I had ever heard, and decided to adopt it as my own.

The following weekend, on a family trip to the zoo, I engineered an opportunity to visit the toilet while my parents, siblings, aunt, uncle and three cousins waited outside. Upon exiting the facilities I declared to my audience “it bloody well stinks in there”, with just the right measure of raffish je ne sais quoi.

Nobody laughed, and my father hit me across the back of the head.

[anon]

Oh, to be a fly on the wall when Mrs Slattery unpacks her son’s bag to discover she’d wasted 12 years of life raising a kleptomaniac pervert.

Three months later a copy of Big ’n Bouncy is hidden under Ryan Slattery’s pillow, reducing a now desolate and despairing Mrs S to tears.

Steven R

1. Painting boiled sweets with it to create delightful ‘mints’, and handing them to younger pupils.

2)Upon hearing the shouted request of “lend me your Tipp Ex”, painting the outside of the bottle and obligingly throwing it by the cap to assist your hardworking chum.

Eager D

Tipp Ex was banned in our school after a girl painted her face with it and sustained chemical burns. Her younger sister always referred to her as ’the victim’, presumably believing that her sibling was somehow attacked by the Tipp Ex.

Mark R

Tipp Ex seemed to be widely prohibited; it was banned at my school too.

The reason we were was given was that it “looked messy” on pupil’s work.

So apparently , slightly shiny and bobbly bits of paper are more “messy” then bits of paper covered in pictures of thick spunking cocks and women with their legs open. Right.

Mark D

Kevin Holcombe painted his 12-inch ruler with a fresh coat of Tipp Ex during every lesson for a whole school year, eventually achieving what can only be described as a diamond-hard block of solid Tipp Ex, and the most sought-after weapon in ages.

[anon]

Five minutes is a rough guide - to be honest, the first time you speak after a temp ban is inviting people to resume belittling you with comments like “aren’t you on a temp ban for coming out with shit like that?” and punching. You’re better off just starting with a clean slate the next day.

Even worse jokes can result in a perm ban, which is valid for the remainder of the unfunny prick’s academic life.

Loki G

Usage: put on a metallic voice and declare “I. AM. ALANATRON. EX. TER. MIN. ATE.” A warning to people whose names rhymed with Tron, though. “I. AM. JOHN. TRON.” makes you sound like a bit of a gaybot, marks you out as a target for ex. sperm. in. ation.

Tron making regular objects sound futuristic and robotic, it’s arguable that William’s arcade game Robotron 2024 was gilding the lily a touch.

Jon B

Tron gave me possibly one of the most convoluted nicknames ever. My surname is Smith, so this was corrupted to ‘Squiff’ by the Oscar Wildes in my class. An English teacher who was constantly trying to be ‘down with the kids’ then started calling me ‘Squiffy’, which after a while evolved into him calling me ‘Squiffotron’ whilst making robot-like movements. I didn’t start complaining until he started shouting ‘ERROR! ERROR! DOES NOT COMPUTE!’ whenever he asked me a question that took me more than a few seconds to answer.

The same teacher later accused me of constantly looking at porn on the internet in a speech he made at our A Level presentation evening, in front of all the students and parents from my year. He later denied it, but the scars run deep. O’Shaughnessy, you’re a bastard.

[anon]

I suppose if we’d have tried to find him we probably could’ve helped prevent his heart attack on the stairs. Or at least seen a dead body.

Maddsy M

One did not, however, mess with John. In fights, he would remove his leg and effectively batter the fuck out of his opponent with it. John was also very good at hopping.

Robert A

I learned two amazing facts that day:<ol> - You can drop a bus window from the full height of a double decker bus onto concrete and still have it not break.

• You can get away with such a wanton act of destruction under the weak guise of “trying to kill a wasp”.
  </ol>If I’d been a bit harder I would have been able to give you the top-floor-of-the-bus-point-of-view of that story which I’m sure is far more sexy and dangerous. As it is, I can instead play the violin to an extremely low standard.

Mr O

One of the large windows of our third floor french classroom was pushed out and onto the ground as a result of a wasp assassination plot which went badly wrong. This was even better than it sounds, because when Ian smashed the large textbook into the window, he did so under direct orders from our teacher. An evil insect died, an entire class of children got to watch a large piece of glass get smashed, and the teacher had no-one to blame but himself. Absolutely bloody marvellous.

Davy

Methought the lady didst protest too much.

Will D

Boy who can fart on demand approaches the mark, and says

“Think of a Number!”

You would think of a number, and tell him what it was. For example, " four “.

He would then fart loudly and reply " that was five “. The fart added one to your number, you see. And when I tried to be clever by saying infinity (which isn’t even a number), I simply got the fart and “that was infinity plus one”. Touché. Touché turtle’s head, sometimes. Touché cloth. Etc.

Shamim C

Monday’s Marriage Day

Tuesday’s Toes Day

Wednesday’s Wedding Day

Thursday’s Divorce Day

Friday’s Flip Up Day

Monday

The first person of the opposite sex you touched that day, would be your “spouse” for the week. This of course was dreadful for the girls - imagine not getting the husband you wanted! And dreadful for the boys, who still felt they had to play the field.

Tuesday

You *had* to walk around on your heels all day with your toes pointing up. If anyone saw your feet flat on the ground, they would stomp the them. The only thing that made this awkward and painful day bearable was keeping a lookout for other people’s feet to smash.

Wednesday

Wedding day. Exactly the same as Monday. This is what happens when you let us girls take too much of a role in inventing games.

Thursday

Divorce Day. Although optional, everyone would get divorced on this day - no-one wanted to be married over the weekend. Enjoy your four days of freedom, boys - because on Monday, you will be married again.

Friday

Flip Up Day. The boys’ contribution to the week. On Friday, the boys would become the “lezzes”, and would flip up the hem of any girl wearing a skirt, exposing their underwear. The boys, being lezzes, would take sexual pleasure from this. Eventually the girls stopped wearing dresses on Friday, and the lezzes tried flipping up our shirts. At this stage, Flip-Up Friday developed quickly into Friday Fuck Off , where boys attempting to fondle freshly divorced girls were met with a swift kick in their lesbian bollocks.

[anon]

It was later suggested that the Oriental looking man, waiting to collect his child, may not have actually been a member of the Triads.

Gareth T

‘Looking for Kevin Traas’ became a major pastime, in which we would all traipse around the school with a toy Ghostbusters PKE Meter (which Scott insisted on calling an ‘Amy Peeker’) which had been prised open and an old circuit board inserted to ‘make it work’.

Kevin even made an appearance in our English lessons. Scott, Carl and my other friends eschewed the traditional ‘what I did at the weekend’ for stories in which they entered the old toilet block, found a subterranean tunnel, in which was Kevin Traas, who was by now a blood-soaked ghoul, and fully illustrated as such. They then proceeded to blast the undead Hell out of Kevin with, invariably, a pump action shotgun. Kevin Traas never stood a chance.

Ross G

Please note that the Egg Gland came out of her anus.

Gareth T

[anon]

The jap’s eye game required a group of girls and a group of boys. A girl would dare a boy to insert something into his jap’s eye. If he successfully did this, the girl had to remove it with her mouth (preferably not directly with the teeth). If the boy failed in the insertion process, his punishment was not getting a girl’s mouth on his nob.

The best I managed was a blade of grass. My mate Robin got a twig in there. Hard as she tried though, (and she tried VERY hard) the girl involved just couldn’t pull it out. Robin ended up in tears, and had to go to the school nurse, and then hospital. With a twig sticking out of the end of his nob.

I laughed for around three or four days.

So what do YOU think? An everyday tale of underaged urethra-play? Or retrospective wish-fulfillment from the boy who spent too much time reading? TRUE FOREVER? OR LIKE, WHAT EVER ?

jon j

Spooky D

A kid in our school collapsed and died after sniffing Tipp-ex.

He got a bench in the quad.

Eddie R

A poor guy in our school died in a flat fire and we got a brand spanking new jungle gym to play on, with a little plaque that said it was dedicated to poor Jimmy, so we could remember how horribly poor Jimmy died when we were playing space pirates.

[anon]

So every night after prep we would hop over the school wall, find a cozy nook and snog and say ‘bleu’ and ’three’.

After a few days of this I went to my French teacher for some advice. I needed some quality lines, you see? Being the fool that I was, I wrote down his suggestion phonetically on my hand.

That night we hopped over the wall as usual. I kissed her, smiled and said “taille moi une pipe, salope”.

She smacked me in the mouth, leapt over the wall and I never saw her again apart from when she was in an angry group of Frenchies who all hissed at me in their French way. Like cats.

My french teacher was a cunt . The phrase he taught me means something along the lines of “suck my cock, you whore”.

Liam T

E.g.“Terrance, if you’re not going to shut up, you’re going to have to leave the room.”

“It’s not his fault miss, his dad’s on crack.”

It was used so often that people started to believe that Terrance’s dad WAS actually on crack, and things got so bad that Terrance’s dad eventually felt the need to pay a visit to our class. He explained that he was not on crack, and was actually a factory worker. We all remained silent throughout the speech, until my friend Nick raised his hand.

“Yes?” said Terrance’s dad.

“How can you afford to raise a family and keep up a crack habit on a factory worker’s salary?”

jon j

eg: Person A: “It won’t fit!”

Person B: “That’s not what you said last night!”

Person A: “I’m not sure I like it”

Person B: “Ooooh, That’s not what you said last night, Ducky!”

Person A: “I have decided to eschew homosexuality as I do not enjoy same gender sexual relations, despite any previous comments I may have made yesterday evening”

Person B: “Oh. Ummmm.”

The Boy T

Gary Beadle learned the hard way that time travel is best performed outdoors.

Douglas F

We were too young to realise it was about wanking, which would have been funnier.

gary s

Later on, we realised that we had been conned; not because we’d got to secondary school and were expecting to receive our sweary textbooks, but because we found out that this kid had no big brother. All those years we had known him, and even been to his house. And then we suddenly found out from his mother that he had no brother; it was a quite a shock.

I think that part of us died that day, when we found out that swearing textbooks didn’t exist. The fucking Tricolore was no substitute at all.

Doctor P

While the more popular children drank White Lightning, three of us were left to our own devices. A conversational lull was eventually filled with hushed and graphic descriptions of which teachers we would like to proper buff. We became less hushed, and more graphic, until - a good five minutes into our now preposterous claims about what we would like to do to Miss Reed - her voice came through the wall, crystal clear, telling us to shut up. In no uncertain terms.

Our faces dropped further than our balls ever had.

Breakfast the next day was a frosty affair, with no parties exchanging little more than an embarrased glance, until we rescued the situation by squashing a cumberland sausage in a Gideon’s Bible and put it back on the book shelf.

Greg D

stuart h

We’re still not sure what Andy was getting at.

[anon]

Exec A : What’s Tango like?

Exec B : Dunno. Orangey.

Exec C : It’s more than just Orangey, my friend. It’s got zizz, it’s got zazz. The bubbles suck up your tongue like the kisses of goldfish.

Exec B : Oh, stop it. You always get carried away like this.

Exec C : It’s an experience, a lifestyle. It’s a path, a method. A liquid universe with CO2 planets constantly being created and destroyed. It’s a cosm.

Exec A : I’ll get some coffee.

Exec B : No, stay. Please.

Exec C : It attacks you. It gets onto all fours behind you while its friend pushes you over it. It bites you during a kiss. It slaps its hands over your ears.

Exec B : Ha. We used to do that at school. It was funny.

Exec A : Didn’t it hurt?

Exec B : Dunno. Never had it done to me. Did it to the fat kid, though. Ha. Fat kids. Haha.

Exec C : So that’s it. We get a fat bloke, and he slaps this guy over the ears. The guy is drinking Tango.

Exec B : Haha. Fat bloke. Let’s paint him orange. Then he’d look like an orange, all fat and orange.

Exec C : You’re on fire, Jeremy.

The advert was banned, when parents complained that their children had been sent deaf by thousands of copy-cat ear-slappings around the country. Tango’s attempts to distance themselves from this “dangerous” behaviour were damaged by the fact that the children were shouting “YOU’VE BEEN TANGO’D” as they did it.

See the revised version of the advert at http://www.absolutelyandy.com/tvadverts/. It’s some way down the page, so search for “Tango”.

Jon B

CBBC : Did you have a nickname at school?

Kym : I had lots but the main one I think was Trio, that my brother used to call me Trio because there used to be a biscuit years ago named Trio and there was a girl on the advert named Susie who had the biggest mouth and my brother used to call me Trio because he said I had a big mouth, I was very loud. I can’t imagine why he thought that.

Jon B

As well as being an above average chocolate bar, with an advert featuring a big-mouthed girl demanding chocolate to the tune of Harry Belafonte’s Day-O, Trio was a fun game.

Rules : A wooden bench with a back was pulled a foot away from the wall. As many targets as possible would crouch behind it, and pop their heads up every few seconds. Those who couldn’t fit behind the bench (as this was queerly the more popular playing position) would stand several feet away, and throw things at their heads as they popped up, like Whack Attack moles.

The reason this game is called Trio? The targets would sing “Trio”, to the tune of Harry Belafontes “Day-O” as they poked their heads above the bench.

( To a Pokémon-savvy observer, who is aware of the taming process, the fact that most Pokémon can only say syllables from their own names, and the popping up and down nature of the Diglett family, this must have looked like nothing so much as cheeky wild http://www.disappointment.com/playground/dugtrio.jpg being tamed by a violent trainer. Dear Jesus, I’m a total Pokémon wanker - Log)

Jimbo B

Envious fellow pupils could only look on helplessly, and occasionally point out of the window.

Ponky P

" Two things, Barry Berndes… "

Which quickly became the most said thing ever. To this day, I try to get myself into situations where I have two points to make to someone, so I can say “Two things…….

….

……………..

Barry Berndes “.

Often, I miss out crucial third things just so that I can say it. Shame I don’t work with anyone else who was in my class really. If I did, meetings would be ace.

Rock H

This idiotic offering from our Spanish teacher quickly became the method of silencing your classmates:

“Two words- shut up now.”

Hana t

Baa baa baa, the sheep is in the field.

Baa baa baa, he’s keeping his eyes peeled.<br >Baa baa baa, he’s feeling kind of funny.

Baa baa baa, he’s looking for his mummy.

The poem then becomes more broken in style, perhaps reflecting the panic of the young sheep. It continues;

He spots his mum in the corner,

He runs to hug his mummy,

But it’s not her!

It’s a great big rock!

The poem then climaxes with;

Oh no!

No-one can argue that this is the best poem ever.

[anon]

Realising even this patronising statement was a little highbrow for the more retarded pupils, they would normally add - and that means without talking .

Ponky P

An environmentally sound form of rejection - but one which I felt compelled to apologise for, some years later, by sleeping with the cow, who was frankly hanging .

[anon]

Although it wasn’t a Teddy Ruxpin bear, the idea of the bear chattering away about a fairy tale world of princesses and love - as though he was some intense state of denial about what his leg was doing - only enhanced the image.

[anon]

As the Queen of Pop’s paps were returned to me, our teacher, who shall be known as Mrs X, demanded to know what was going on, and that I bring the paper to her. This is a classic scene, we all know it.

Whilst huffing and looking hard-done-by, I managed to secrete another shred of newspaper from my bag and take that to her instead.

Unfortunately, my plan was rumbled and I was moved to the front of the class.

The walk of shame was crappy enough, but when that fat bitch Mrs X went to my bag to try and see what I was really passing around, I was outraged; that was my bag . It was bag rape . Plus it had my Maddybaps in.

I sprinted to the back of the class to intercept her, and we locked horns in an ugly tug-o-war. Panicked, I gave one almighty heave and Mrs X went sprawling backwards, legs everywhere. Her mood wasn’t improved when Isaac Martin yelled " fucking hell, you can see her snatch “.

Although threatened with expulsion, I was eventually just made to copy out chapters of a science book, in the technician’s room with the stuffed albatross and the terrapins. I can’t see a terrapin to this day without thinking of Madonna’s tits and my teacher’s fanny.

Anthony W

A : Want a chip?

B : How unexpectedly kind. Thanks.

A : Here you go.

B : Er, not that one. It’s the turd chip.

A : Go on, eat it. Nature made it. It’s normal.

B : Well you eat it then.

A : No way, it’s got AIDS.

It would then be thrown at a poor boy, and if it hit him, he would be deemed to have eaten it.

Jon B

You then may have to inform your victim that you have an idiot detector, otherwise they might just assume you are being retarded.

[anon]

1. Creep up behind intended victim.

2. Place your hands either side of victim’s mouth and pull.

3. To compliment the now mongish expression on said victim’s face, shout out “TATEY FACE!” in a Joey Deacon-esque voice.

4. Depending on size of victim relative to self, either pause to bask in the approval of your peers, or run like fuck.

Adam N

Enjoy this attempt at catharsis from Miss b, who uses The Law of the Playground as a forum for a very public apology to her spud-headed daughter.

Oh my good god! My poor beautiful daughter I’m soooo sorry! As a baby we nicknamed her Tatie Kate, and it dogged her through school. At 17 years old and with the face and figure of a goddess she still gets called it by everyone . I honestly don’t know what to say.

[anon]

Ben Earnshaw claimed that his own body was accurate to the second using this method.

We challenged him to tell us the time, and checked an R2D2 digital watch to make sure he was REALLY precise. We were therefore amazed when he put the time at around 7:30 in the evening.

We were at school, and it was dinner break, the retarded fuckwit.

Ben K

Jean-Paul et Claudette would purchase “le dernier disque de Telephone” every fricking Saturday, without fail. If they really wanted to live life on the edge, they went swimming afterwards.

Ponky P

I used to think that as well, but Telephone are in fact not even slightly fictional.

I know this because when some friends of mine went on a French exchange trip, two of the first questions they got asked by the French kids were “ecoutez-vous le musique ‘Hard Rock’?” and then “ecoutez-vous la groupe ‘Telephone’?”.

See http://www.amazon.fr/exec/obidos/search-handle-form/171-5853429-3596269

Apparently Telephone are pretty crap, which is surprising, considering they’re a hard rock band called Telephone .

[anon]

If you think you can handle it, this is their website:

http://www.telephonelegroupe.com/

Check out the stickman strumming the telephone. Le cunt .

Dan

Pete S

The Flexicurve - a bendy ruler used for drawing curves, but essentially a bar of rubber wrapped around a metal core. It doubled up as an amazingly effective cosh and thinking back, it reminds of that bit out of Lock, Stock… where that bloke gets beaten to death with a big, floppy rubber dildo.

Zastrozzi t

But in the hands of a group of 10 year old schoolboys intent on mischief, a radiator key can do much much more. We found out that we could lock toilet cubicle doors from the outside using this tool. Naturally, we proceeded to do so at every available opportunity. For two whole weeks the scandal went on. How would the powers-that-be respond to the crisis? Eventually, an assembly was called to address the situation.

“People are locking cubicles from the inside and climbing over, rendering them unusable,” barked the headmaster, clearly quite annoyed at the ongoing disruption to toilet usage. A select few, of course, knew different.

A few days after the assembly, it all came to a head. We were midway through securing a toilet door yet again in the boys changing rooms, when in burst the headmaster and the sports teacher in what was no doubt a meticulously planned ambush.

In their excitement the sports teacher proclaimed " Ah ha, Headmaster, we’ve caught the toilet mountaineers in the act! "

We couldn’t help laughing at this ridiculous exclamation from Mr Dresser. Neither could the headmaster. It took some time before order was restored.

Eventually, however, the toilet mountaineers were banged to rights. Fortunately, when they sent a letter home detailing the whole sordid tale, my mum thought it was funny too.

I’m letting this one go because I like it, but if anyone can explain to me exactly how you can lock a toilet door from the outside using a radiator key, please let me know. If it’s possible, there’s going to be some toilet mountaineering at my workplace, make no mistake. - Matt

James

Well, my plea for information was eventually answered. This isn’t a funny entry, but I’m approving it in the hope that it might inspire a new generation of toilet mountaineers. Go on. Tackle that north face - Matt.

You need to have cubicles with a rotating circular bit below the window showing red or green. There should be a slot in the middle of the circle, allowing the key to be inserted.

[anon]

The gauntlet is well and truly thrown down by Anonymous User here. I know I’m probably the only person who gives a fuck about this, but I’d like to hear from any readers who just GET OUT THERE AND LOCK THOSE DAMN TOILETS. Lock them like they’ve never been locked before. - Matt

Feh, who needs a radiator key, or a particular variety of door lock? Was the previous contributor gay? Or stupid? Or both?

Any key, credit card or belt buckle will do. Pull the door closed and hold it with your foot, insert your chosen tool into the outside bit of the lock, and shift it round or across. This is also useful for locking your cousin into the toilet at home and inducing 9-year-old-boy-hysteria.

Someone’s done this to the only cubicle that actually locks in the ladies’ bogs in the council swimming pool, but I’m buggered if I’m going to be the one who unlocks it.

[anon]

Anonymous User misses the fucking point by a mile. I despair, I really do. - Matt

Just lock the door from the inside, climb over the top of the stall and into the next lav. Repeat again and again until all toilets in the building are locked.

[anon]

Anonymous User One tells of a toilet mountaineering variant which might be of interest to small children and midgets. Not quite within the spirit of TRUE toilet mountaineering, which aims to achieve maximum lockage with minimum effort, but an interesting historical footnote nonetheless. And certainly preferable to *tchoh* climbing over the toilet walls. I mean, really.

At junior school the toilet partitions were high enough from the floor to enable me (being of a suitably weedy build) to crawl under the partition in order to achieve toilet lockout.

Anonymous User Two tells of an evil twist in the toilet mountaineering tail.

Wait until the you really badly need a poo. Place a wad of lightly-clumped toilet roll into the bowl before dropping your load, ensuring that the poo remains above the waterline for maximum stink. Wipe, leave and lock.

A group of friends, curry with raisins in for school lunch, and careful planning can result in a dozen reeking and locked cubicles by afternoon break.

Apart from the original story from James W, everyone has submitted entries anonymously to this topic. You should all know by now that to partake in this noble sport is absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. - Matt

[anon]

The best effects come when one child in your class has a serious bladder problem. Faced with the conundrum of locked toilet doors they will come running back into the class crying, with a pool of pee round their ankles. Sorry, Toby.

Glad to see that the trend for anonymity amongst Toilet Mountaineer contributors has been bucked by Kev here. Oh, and http://www.playgroundlaw.com/cgi-bin/browsepupil.pl?pid=478 wrote in demanding a credit for the stink-out story and claiming that the LotP login function is gay. Sorry, *penski, but not being able to log in makes YOU gay, not the site. You big gay. - Matt

Kev C

My suggestion to all budding toilet mountaineers is to buy a Leatherman. After reading this story I have studied many lavatory doors, and one day soon I plan to take out every public toilet in the city centre.

This is exactly what we want. Let’s hope we make it into the newspapers. - Matt

[anon]

This is true.

Susan T

cf : To reiterate the facts: you couldn't build a staff room in a swimming pool because it was so full of tennis balls that protected species of fish had moved in? Is that a fair summary of your story? If so, fuck right off and away, I'm not having it.

[anon]

“Why?” I can hear you cry. The truth is I don’t know, don’t know why he did it (it can’t be very pleasureable surely) and don’t know why he told someone (okay, me) about it, I was always going to tell someone (okay, everyone) about it wasn’t I?

That’ll teach him for calling me gay, the dirty bed shagger.

James C

It would be nice to claim some structured or artistic reason for it but there wasn’t one. The pastime simply entailed tying Terry up and then pissing on him. Oh, and we shoved straw up his arse sometimes, as well

Bizarrely, whenever we called for him to come out to play with us he always did.

Bob M

Isn't this meant to be a site for capers and chicanery of your school years ? This reads more like a social services dossier. What next? “How we used to fist Barry and shit on his chest”?

log : Readers. Did you used to fist barry and shit on his chest? If you did, please submit your story to The Law of the Playground, the world's premier resource for underage scatfistery. Seriously, Monty, we don't know what we are, and clearly neither do our contributors. So just roll with it.

uncle m

Ah, I see what you mean. Yes, it reads as if the straw was clinically, almost surgically, inserted up his arse, which would, of course, imply seriously flawed behaviour in chaps of any age.

Nothing of the sort. We merely grabbed rough handfuls of straw (We lived in a rural community) and rammed them manfully and light-heartedly up his arse.

Sorry about any misunderstanding.

Bob M

Well, we made Stephen Mottram eat a dog turd off his own fake commando knife after we stole his shoes and filled his trousers with gravel. And it’s still funny. Especially since he had three brothers who used to trap him in a bin and steal his clothes, and they all had two paper rounds and a milk round each so they could finance their fat mum’s persian cat habit.

Dan J

Although why anyone would want to steal powdered egg or a pencil sharpener shaped like a nazi is a mystery.

Jon

[anon]

Alexander P

Even in my final year, it wasn’t unusual for a 12 year old girl to run away from me in the corridor screaming ’ run, it’s the sex addict!! ‘.

the mysterious w

" The Earth is yours O God, You nouriSH IT with rain "

Sam S

Andy M

In year 4 at primary school, we would be visited once a week by two ‘Special’ children from another school, and by way of a reciprication, about half a dozen of us were sent to their school to see their nativity play.

It was morbidly fascinating in its way, not least because the young lad playing one of the shepherds had two thumbs on each hand. As Tom Wood pointed out: “I bet he’s wicked at Sonic.”

Graham B

You don’t have to be on the way to swim lessons, but the man must be deaf.

[anon]

Sarcaustic

Alfonso G

RL

“Do you sleep with Tony Hart?”

When the victim (it had to be a he, for obvious reasons) replied in the negative you could smugly answer “what, you haven’t got a toe a knee and a heart, cripple?”

Obviously an affirmative answer is too, too dark to even consider.

- supermoving

Why? The only explanation I can think of would be that striding in manfully implies that you have nothing to be ashamed of – ie a large penis – therefore you would be requiring a loose vagina. In this sense, it’s not a form of feminine intimidation, it’s simply a pragmatic allocation of available vaginas.

Jon B

“Look at my picture of a house. I haven’t gone over the lines once.”

“What do you want, a Tufty Badge?”

Also offer them , an O.B.E. , a biscuit , or a big shiny fucking medal

Kaye B

you’re sure of a big surprise.

If you go down in the woods today,

you’d better close your eyes.<Br />‘Cause Mum and Dad,

are ‘avin a shag,

and Uncle Bob,

is suckin’ his knob,

and Aunty Mary’s ‘avin it off with Graaaandad.

Uncle Bob was probably sucking his own nob, what with Aunty Mary being occupied with Granddad.

John C

The Wallington Variation:

‘Cos Uncle Ross is having a toss

And Uncle Frank is having a wank

And Auntie Flo is having a go

With Gran-dad!

It’s worth noting that it’s nearly always the Auntie who gets it on with Grandad in these scenarios. Other possibilities include Uncle Jim having a rim, Auntie Irene flicking her bean, and of course Diana Rigg having a frig .

Jon B

There’s also Auntie Sue doing a poo whilst Uncle Jim kisses her quim.

Presumably Sue and Jim are German.

Nick H

Teacher Teacher, I declare,
I can see your underwear.

A memorable opening couplet to a piece of junior school playground poetry. There was undoubtedly more to this rhyme, but I can’t recall it. Anyone who can supply the missing lines will have my eternal gratitude, as its keeping me awake at nights thinking about it.

Matt F

We break up we break down,

We dont care if the school burns down,

No more English, No more French,

No more sitting on the old school bench.

Teacher, Techer, I declare,

I can see your underwear,

Is it black or is it white,

Or is it made of dynamite?

I think thats it, possibly in that order.

Tim B

Patently open to abuse by the " you didn’t really try to get 10%, did you? Christ, it was only a joke and now you’ve thrown your future out of the window " brigade.

Alpen B

Jug-Lug, ‘cause his ears stuck out like jug handles.

Tug-A-Lug, ‘cause after sneaking off from registration into the toilets after lunch, a swift guerilla raid caught him mid-wank.

All combined into the ultimate all-purpose nickname - Tug-A-Lug-Jug-Lug-Bug. A masterpiece of insult engineering that resonates to this day.

We let him finish his wank though. We weren’t THAT cruel.

Karma A

You can slowly back away slowly and find another cubicle, or you can shit everywhere and run screaming through the crowded dining hall with your trousers around your ankles. I chose the latter course of action.

[anon]

Chris W

Hugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert’s dribbling spunk
Hugh Puked on Barney McGrew, Cuthbert dribbled on Grub

Trumpton nostalgia lost its charm in 1992, when a bar in Manchester called Barney McGrews opened its doors. This bar was immediately populated by groups of people saying;

• Do you remember Trumpton? - God, how did it go again? - How did the windmill go on Camberwick Green? - No, that was Ivor the Engine. - Camberwick Green was one of the first spin-offs, actually. - Mork and Mindy was a spin-off too, you know. 100% fact. - Hugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert’s dribbling spunk!! - Hugh Puked on Barney McGrew, Cuthbert dribbled on Grub!!!

Craig H

“What does a ship do when it gets to the harbour?”

The answer is, of course, “ties up!”, which you shout while swiftly tugging their tie from behind their jumper. Only really results in mild irritation, but it was a popular thing to do.

log : If you see this one coming, try to pull off a daring reversal by shouting “drops anchor” and taking a really fast shit on their shoe

Alan M

Actually, at our school, the question “what does a ship do when it arrives at the harbour?” was followed by the questioner immediately shouting “Ties up!” (while flicking the victim's tie up into their face) and “anchors down” (while stamping on their foot).

Saves all that fucking about dropping your trousers and trying to take a shit so fast the person doesn't have a chance to take a single step back and tell everyone you're being a full-blown bronno.

[anon]

Jon B

Twitchy, slimy and dead,

Twitchy, we cut off your head,

Twitchy, how we love to cut you up.

*shake fist and make maraca sound*

Kidney, round and brown,

Kidney, we found you on the ground,

Kidney, you look like a bean I ate.

*maraca sound*

Liver, big and brown,

Liver, you are schloratic,

Liver, you take up too much of the rat.

*maracas sound*

Small intestine, long and pink

Small intestine, you really stink,

Small intestine…*long pause* …there ought to be more to this verse.

*fin*

This became something of a school anthem for a while, and perhaps even lives on to this day.

[anon]

Fatty cin ye bounce

Cin yer erse cha choony?

Which asks the question “can that bottom chew gum?”

Michael F

Buttocks S

If you tried to charge more than 45p for your cups of tea the game would stop you doing it, explaining that " It’s cheaper with British Rail “.

[anon]

Dan W

That’s exactly what Jon Dale used to do with Elven Cheerleaders. He’d paint tiny labia on their leotards to make it look like they were wearing crotchless panties. Christ. I mean, hats off to his artistic talent, but the more I think about it the more amazed I am I’ve not seen him feature on Crimewatch.

Nick H

Mike W

The comeback to this is, of course, “So you shit in your hand, then?”

[anon]

Dupli C

“Tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tch-tchaikovskeeee;

Here he comes, banging his drums.”

Dupli C

Is that not in some way derived from a song that Bruno, the fabulously permed keyboard spanker from Fame, played about Mr. Shorofsky, his music teacher?

The song in question is featured in the episode “A Musical Bridge” from Season One. Another episode where Bruno agonises over writing music when Montgomery tries to persuade him to cash in on his ability to produce “a mindless cacophony” (Sho-Sho-Sho-Shorofsky, Do The Gimme That).
I didn’t just know that, by the way. I looked it up. - Ponky

Drew S

Jake D

my knickers flew away,

They came back yesterday,

Ta ra ra bum di ay.”

This unusual narrative casts aside the traditional form of beginning, middle, end, by leaving out the middle section that can be so boring to people with low attention spans. The knickers are gone - the knickers are back. However, the repetition of the first line in the last reminds us that it is a constant cycle, and no sooner have one person’s knickers returned, than another pair have flown away.

Jon B

“Ta ra ra bum di ay, teacher did a trump today, She blew the school away, we had a holiday…”

Kev W

“Ta ra ra bum di ay

I wet my pants today

What will my mother say?

Ta ra ra bum di ay”

She’d probably say “put them in the washing machine you disgusting little pikey”. Or simply sigh and look a bit sad while inwardly worrying about her child’s lack of bladder control.

Nick P

Harry G

Loz

Leo F

Without entering into the class divide, anyone running across a field screaming Tally Ho! is begging for beating round are way. Then again, I did sing “Great minds think alike, do they not, my friend?” without getting beaten up, so perhaps Comps were more tolerant than I remember.

Jon B

What d’yer think of Tarzan undies?

Do they scare yer?

Do they scare yer?

Eval S

Iain M

Jon B

Arnold Hill, Nottingham; Mr Bunting was a PE teacher with a triple whammy of lampoonable afflictions; a monobrow, a lisp and a spazzy finger. His song went, to the tune of Na Na Hey Hey Kiss Him Goodbye;

Bunting,

Bunting’s Eyebrows,

Bent Finger,

VALUABLphffhfpth.

Bunting-baiting had a brief renaissance when we overheard someone with a Japanese accent pronounce his name “Mr Bum King”.

[anon]

<div class=“image”><iframe width=“480” height=“360” src=“http://www.youtube.com/embed/bsNwtBv3PI0?rel=0" frameborder=“0” allowfullscreen></iframe></div>

Sadly for several kids with larger than average foreheads in the lower years at our high school, this advertising campaign was more successful than Tefal could have possibly ever dreamed.

At random breaktimes for a whole year the cry “TEFAL!” would go up, after which everyone in hearing distance would tear after some poor first year, chasing him all round the school if necessary. When he was finally pinned in a corner, one of the older kids in front would pull out a Trevor Francis ruler, measure his forehead and then shout out the total, adding on at least 5 centimetres for effect. The surrounding mob would then chant “TEFAL!, TEFAL!, TEFAL!” until breaktime finished, a teacher broke it up or the 'Tefal' cried too much, whichever came first. Looking back, the whole scene was like something out of 'Invasion of the Body Snatchers'.

Tony L

My friend and I happened across a man bearing a particularly generous frontsipiece. We immediately seized the opportunity to play “tefal” (take turns to shout “tefal” with increasing volume). To our horror he approached us and calmly confessed that yes, he was the man from Tefal ads, which had led to a part in the TV drama “Tripods”.

We got his autograph.

two D

Holly

If you see some geniune badness, and you are very young or naive, then your mouth will drop open, your eyes widen, and the only word you will be able to summon is a breathless “tell-ing”. Then you will run in a random direction until you hit something.

Jon B

Telling can also be used as an effective bullying device. Tell someone younger, smaller or nerdier than yourself that you are ’telling on them’, despite the fact that they have done nothing wrong, and they will royally cack their pants and begin the word “but” around twenty times before hiding.

This technique also forms the foundation for a defense to a straight-forward " telling “. Simply scream " telling " just as loudly, and start a race to the nearest teacher. Of course, if you make it to the teacher you’ll have to make something up pretty quickly, or admit that you were both running around screaming " telling “, which may reduce credibility in future games of " telling “.

Jon B

Nick D

Although practiced every day at my primary school, the rhymes were limited to the everyday “…‘cos you licked my lolly and you didn’t say sorry” and the lunatic “…‘cos you jumped in the pond and kissed James Bond”. As if Bond would be seen dead in our crappy pond.

Heathen C

Our version went “Because you kissed a kangaroo in the middle of the zoo at half past two.” References to poo and a loo were not uncommon.

Nick

See also: I’m telling

you’re smelling

your bum is like a melon.

Michael F

I’m telling,

You’re smelling,

You went to a black man’s wedding.

I would imagine that Eddie doesn’t get invited to many black mens’ weddings. More fool him. I HAVE been to a black man’s wedding, and can report that, far from the cake being made of rice and peas, and the ceremony being conducted by a man with skellington make-up like in ‘Live and Let Die’, black mens’ weddings are perfectly charming.

Eddie R

I once overheard another kid at playtime say “I’m telling miss that you said F-U-K” and for years after, I though ‘fuck’ was spelled ‘F-U-K’. Embarrassingly, it was my nan who finally corrected me when I dutifully pointed out some misspelled graffiti in the park. Fuking know-it-all.

Neal V

Our version went thus:

I’m telling on you
You dirty kangaroo
You pushed me in the river
At half past two.
Interestingly, there was a river fairly near to our school, although to the best of my knowledge, no-one was ever pushed in it by a kangaroo, dirty or otherwise.

Someone once punched the headmaster in the FACE, though. IN THE FACE!

Captain C

Nick P

The price required of Danny to make him kneel down in the deepest puddle on the tennis courts.

SmallPaul

Also a game where one friend presses a pre-licked coin onto a second friends forehead and encourages him to dislodge it by whacking himself repeatedly on the back of the head. But the coin is really in the first friends hand, you see, not stuck to the forehead, so the second friend is left slapping the back of his head in vain, resembling the late Eric Morcombe in a state of arousal.

Susan T

Scott W

Terence is a gay name. The River Trent runs through Nottingham. Derby is a neighbouring county to Nottingham, where the locals fuck trees, cows and sisters. Terence Trent D’Arby is therefore quite a potent insult, meaning the you live in a river, are gay, and fuck trees, cows and your sister.

Jon B

I also recall a wimpy special that was available for public consumption for a short time in Birmingham … ‘The Big Bender in a Bun’. Thankfuly it was served on a real plate and could be consumed with a real knife and fork. Greedily shovelling a whole bender into your face would have been a little… gay.

( Why you chose to put this under Terrance Trent D’Arby is beyond me, but thanks for sharing, Stephan - Log)

[anon]

When Wimpy and McDonald did children’s parties, I was privileged enough to meet the Mr Wimpy costume. He gave out badges to all my chums. Mine said “I’m a big bender biter”. Everyone was VERY jealous that mister wimpy had favoured me, over all others, with this accolades.

The only defence open to me, although I was too young to realise it at the time, was " I don’t have sex with them, I bite them. It’s not romantic at ALL ."

Lorrimer t

Contrary to what Log says, I live in Derbyshire and have never once fucked a cow, a tree or my sister. And neither have my friends.

Just so we don’t all get a reputation as incestuous, bestial hippies.

Don’t think the fact you missed out sheep in your list of things you haven’t fucked didn’t go unnoticed. For you, Mrs Ramsbottom isn’t a person, it’s the fact you were too pissed on Tennant’s Super to get it in the hole. Nottingham wins Derby! - Log

[anon]

Let's all go to Tesco's,
Where Trevor buys his best clothes,
They are so nif-ty,
for one pound fif-ty.

Dan W

End with a flourish…

but *insert name of poverty-stricken pupil* cannot grumble,

he gets his from the jumble la la la la, la la la la.

(n.b ’la’ should be intoned with as big a tongue as possible, think Fat Sam singing at the very end of Bugsy Malone)

[anon]

For a further verse:

Down at Happy Shopper,
they're on special offer,
but beware,
Trevor is there

Winter M

DEaDfRoG

Calling somebody a test tube baby is a great insult; because as well as suggesting that they haven’t got a mum, it also proves that their dad likes going to the hospital and wanking into a dirty cup for 5p.

a: “Can you climb up glass?”

b: “No.”

a: “Then how did you get out of your test tube? - Is your star sign ‘Pyrex’?”

[anon]

I was concieved via IVF; in fact I was one of the first 5,000 ever concieved in the world. So I got to go to Thorpe Park at age 6 and YOU didn’t, you bunch of boringly-birthed old sods.

Hahaha. Your dad done a wank.

[anon]

Jon B

Jon B

>> pick up magic wand

I do not know how to “pick up magic wand”

>>fuck right off

I do not know how to “fuck right off”

[anon]

Jarry H

Gavin

Jarry H

Gavin

Often, boys will believe that girls only have one hole - a universal hole for everything. A hole from which drops piss that stinks a bit like poo. And poo that has the golden glisten of piss and babies.

As our understanding inevitablly developed, we discovered that the front hole had ANOTHER two holes in it, like women were a damn Mandlebrot set of ever more specific holes.

One boy who clung to the single-hole theory also believed that a vibrator was a kind of footspa, and that you could ask your hairdresser for a blowjob.

Jon B

I had to explain to our year’s alpha male about the trinity of lady holes. I did do slowly, and with the aid of some meticulous diagrams in the back of my chemistry book.

He’d been having sex for two years, but was surprisingly placid throughout my lesson. When I’d finished, he simply looked at me and said ‘well, my cat doesn’t have three holes’.

peter p

Mazza

Rob A

(etymology thereof): I think this came from the popularity of the second series of Auf Wiedersehen, Pet which aired around 86/87. It was a favourite of Oz when confronted by an attractive example of the fairer sex. It went round my workplace recently when Pet was re-run on UK Gold.

Andrew O

Hugh M

Ben G

Matd

Sr D

Jim G

While Train Boy’s impression was surreal, “Smelly” John Stephenson’s car alarm impression was merely shrill - very realistic indeed.

I can’t remember whether his car alarm impression was a response to getting beaten up, or whether he was beaten up because the impression was so annoying.

Anyway, just imagine one boy getting punched in the face, and whooping repetetively.

[anon]

Quite what posessed Andrew Meadon to get up in front of 700 boys and act out scenes from Independence Day and Ace Ventura for our “talent” show, I do not know. What I do know was that they all seemed to involve the NHS-specced, dirty-coated spacker flailing around the stage like a Welsh whirling dervish, shouting barely comprehensible Will Smith-icisms…

Saying that, his veloceraptor impression was truly top drawer. Blue ribbon stuff….

Josh G

Davern W

Joe B

Jon B

Jon B

Mark C

[anon]

The school tricycle? Riding the tricycle, a playtime reward? Are you making this up, A.?

Jon B

Jared E

Hugh M

Eval S

Darsy

This echoes a young belief in Nottingham, that a twat was either (i) a pregnant goldfish or (ii) a very silly twit.

Jon B

• “Twat!”

• “Twat you say? I cunt hear you!”

• “Must have an ear infucktion!”

• “Better finger it out!”

Although it ends a bit rubbish, at least you get to shout this, because you’re having difficulty hearing each other.

Cindy J

Kris F

Twatblanket; slang, sanitary towel.

Jonny B

This is in fact a sanitary towel. I know this because my sister is 14 and has periods.

Alex P

Nic

SmallPaul

Bex

Leo F

Based on the popular Punt/Dennis nostalgia confection, the Screwball, which was a cone of ice cream with a ball of chewing gum in the nib. Lucky children sometimes found two balls of chewing gum, less fortunate children had their nuts twisted on the floor.

Jon B