Law of the Playground

wogbox

Fri, 15 Feb 2013 00:00:00 +0000

How are you supposed to know that a word isn't acceptable? If your dad stroked the hair gently around your mother's face, and cooed “gargle my balls in Listerine, you grotesque slag”, you'd grow up thinking that it was a loving and romantic thing to say.

So when my grandfather called our battery powered stereo with Dolby and auto-stop cassette functionality a “wogbox”, with no hatred or racism in his voice, we didn't bat an eyelid. “Slap some Paul Young on the wogbox,” we'd yell out the windows. “Turn up the wogbox, I'm trying to dance over here.”

Wogbox. To this day, it's a word that's frequently leaps into my mouth. I'm painfully politically correct by nature, and I hate that I'm not supposed to say it. It's such a great word. “I'm not racist, but wogbox Wogbox WOGBOX. Wogbox.” Thank you.

[anon]

Whirley's whirly

Sat, 22 Oct 2011 00:00:00 +0000

John Whirley had some sort of epilepsy. We discovered that it could be triggered in several ways: shining bright light into his eyes, sneaking up on him and yelling in his ear, and - once - a satchel full of books thrown into his head triggered it. That's serendipity, is that.

During his fits his eyes would roll up into his head, a soft moan would come from inside like he was haunted, then his hands would flutter and rise above his head. Ideally, he'd then pass out and collapse.

Obviously, these were pretty entertaining, and we got to the stage where the demands on Whirley for an eppy were so constant that he'd try to fake them. But he was the only person who'd never seen them, so he was shite at it. Not blowing my own trumpet, but I was much better.

[anon]

Wine and cheese evening

Fri, 25 Aug 2006 00:00:00 +0000

A chap I knew at school put an advert in the local paper for an open-to-all wine and cheese evening at the private residence of Johnny Rogers, our head of sixth-form.

Imagine Johnny’s surprise when three couples he didn’t know interrupted his viewing of Top Gear by knocking at his door clutching Cabernet Sauvignon and a few pounds of Stilton.

I’d like to think he invited them in and made some new friends, but I suspect the world just doesn’t work that way.

Gentleman F

woof bark moo slut slag

Fri, 14 Jul 2006 00:00:00 +0000

What we used to shout at Dawn, the hybrid of dog, cow and whore who moved to our estate when I was 13. She got off with all “our” blokes because she’d let them finger her, and we wouldn’t.

Girls! Why not initiate an “arms race” of availability to boys? If a girl is letting fingers in, offer oral. If someone’s having fanny sex with rubbers, pull him from her, whisper “it’s better without” and jam them, unprotected, into your arsehole. Before you know it, armies of sexually liberated girls will be dragging themselves around on their woo-woos and war will be over. At least until someone from another estate moves in and starts getting boys because she’s all prim and unavilable, the stuck-up cunt .

Work experience

Thu, 08 Jun 2006 00:00:00 +0000

I think this is like an ‘organic’ version of the old McDonalds urban myth.

James Basham worked on a farm for work experience, which involved a lot of working alone.

One day at the farm, he had a wank in a greenhouse.

I blame David Cameron, meself.

James C

watch us wreck the mike

Mon, 21 Nov 2005 00:00:00 +0000

1994 was not a particularly good year for Mike Swinburn. During the months that PJ & Duncan topped the charts, he lived in fear of the sudden cry of “LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLE” resonating throughout the playground, followed by a chant of “watch us wreck the Mike, watch us wreck the Mike, watch us wreck the Mike - psyche!”

Unfortunately for Mike, “psyche” meant a punch in the stomach. Sorry, Mike.

[anon]

Buster Bloodvessel’s ‘Lip Up Fatty’ was penned as a kind of Fat Pride anthem. So successful was it, that packs of Dr Marten shod rude-boys would hunt the playgrounds for anybody that could be decribed as portly, and encouragingly sing it to them; all the while encircling the chosen lardarse and sticking six toecaps up his bumpiece.

Derek M

That bloody PJ & Duncan song was the bane of my life for a few weeks in year 8. One clever classmate (step forward Richard Chambers) changed it to involve my surname. I had a friend called Robert. Ha ha, I was gay. Here comes the song:

*Let’s get ready to Whittle

Let’s get ready to Whittle

Watch him bum the Rob

FAG!*

I’m sure Haines’ scrapyard feels blessed by Richard’s working presence.

[anon]

Wanking rights

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

As a pupil at an all boys school, the number of flesh-and-blood women suitable for adolescent masturbation fantasies was limited. A discussion of the subject revealed that only two or three female teachers were utilised by the whole class. A suggestion was made that this made us all gay, and so, not wanting to appear gay, the idea of wanking rights arose. Essentially this was the same as calling “shotgun” for a car - the first person to see the teacher that day would shout “wanking rights!” when the teacher was first sighted, usually as she entered a classroom, and that person would then have the sole rights to wank thinking of that woman for one day.

The Boy T

Willy Pads

Thu, 27 Oct 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Helen, 11, flung the door of the girls’ toilets open and leaned on the door frame dramatically, like a snot-nosed Blanche Dubois. “I’ve started…” she breathed, as we flocked around her, evincing awe and concern. In first year secondary, it is de rigeur to falsely announce the commencement of one’s menstrual cycle in such a fashion. The tampons handed out by the school nurse, however, will mainly be used as missiles, or eyed doubtfully and thrown in the bin.

A friend and I invented “Willy Pads”, which we created from some Sellotape, unravelled cotton wool and a Kleenex. We then took the boys in our class aside one by one, explained to them that blood would soon be coming out of the end of their penis once a month, and offered them “Willy Pads” at 2p a throw. It was difficult enough for the girls to comprehend the glamorous affliction of red weewee, and the boys showed no interest at all. One boy had found tampons in his mum’s cupboard and cried bitterly because he thought it meant he was going to get a new baby brother.

rosy r

What was your dad?

Tue, 13 Sep 2005 00:00:00 +0000

At primary school we were privileged to see a play about pirates performed by semi-professional actors. Nicholas, the fattest boy in the school, kept heckling, saying “That wouldn’t happen on a ship”. After he’d said this a few times, one of the actors got so irritated that he stopped acting and said “How do you know that?”. Fat Nick replied in a smug nim nim nim tone, “Because my dad lived on a ship for 5 years”. To which the actor replied “And what was your dad, son, a barrel?”.

And so “Fat Barrel Nick” was born.

Lee

Walking Away

Mon, 25 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Recommended by ALL teachers as the perfect anti-bullying method. But when I tried it, the cunt spat on my neck.

[anon]

Well Cooked Chicken

Sun, 17 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000

A standard Domestic Science question of how to ensure Salmonella cannot survive in your chicken. The right answer was to check that the juices run clear when cooked. The wrong answer, but treated with understanding by Teacher, was to freeze it first (doesn’t kill germs, just stops them breeding apparently). Wilby’s answer of ‘marinading it in Domestos’ was treated with weary disdain.

Jaded F

Huh, call THAT ‘Weary disdain’? In one of our early food technology lessons, we were told to design menus for a fictional restaurant.

The highpoint of this lesson was when we convinced our nice but naive friend Becky that ‘spunk’ was in fact a type of cheese and she duely put ‘spunk sandwiches’ on her menu and handed it in. THAT, my friend was ‘weary disdain’.

Bionic S

Who Would Win In a Fight Game, The

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 00:00:00 +0000

A well-known hypothetial deathmatch game; as taken to extremes in http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/0747559929/disappointmen-21. Arguments in this game generally involved people saying “Superman’s invincible I win” and “I don’t care if Stefan Dennis had a good body under his business suit, Craig McLachlan is totally spunks” (if you are a girl).

On a more practical level, pitting Jesus(recorded miracles only) vs. Sub-Zero from Mortal Kombat convinced many children that Christianity wasn’t all the church made it out to be.

Willy Whistlers

Wed, 15 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Your whole class tries to stand on the playground bench at once on a windy day, arms out-stretched.
Everyone shouts “WILLY WHISTLERS!”
Then you all get off again.

[anon]

What are you doing?

Sat, 11 Jun 2005 00:00:00 +0000

A drama class game. Played in pairs, person A would ask person B " What are you doing? " and person B would respond with anything, be it " playing a trombone " or " flailing my arms as if without motor function “. Person A then had to mime whatever B had said.

The game was lent a spicy edge when one plucky can-do player answered “your mum”, leaving his friend with no option but to mime doing his own mother.

will you go out with me?

Thu, 05 May 2005 00:00:00 +0000

At the age where “going out with someone” was simply to display a willingness to be around someone of the opposite sex, it was common to formally request a relationship with a slip of paper.

<table width=“60%” border=“2” cellpadding=“5”><tr><td>Will you go out with me?

[ ] Yes

[ ] No

[ ] Maybe</td></tr></table>

One of the tickboxes was filled in, and then sent back to the recipient. It’s difficult to say whether No (rejection) or Maybe (pity) was the worst result, which is probably why the girls saw fit to add the fourth response,

Weather

Wed, 27 Apr 2005 00:00:00 +0000

If enough primary school children stand together and chant whilst looking at the sky, they can actually control the weather. I know this to be true, because when it was raining, the whole school would stand looking out of the window chanting " rain rain go away, come again another day “. When the rain eventually stopped, we marvelled at our success. The same effect was also occasionally observed with clouds.

Some masochistic children would claim they had more power than most and would stand outside on their own on a sunny day chanting for rain, which would result in them being punched. But the most dangerous abuse of our weather controlling powers occurred when the class would stand under the large Horse Chestnut tree during conker season, looking up into the branches and chanting for wind. As usual, it worked, and three children got black eyes. The tree was chopped down during the holidays, and so the school was saved from future hurricanes.

Oscar T

An earnest attempt was made to scientifically disprove the theory that you can be killed by lighting while standing under a large beech tree in a thunder storm. This was swiftly curtailed by Mr. Walters, who yelled at us to not be so bloody stupid and get inside.

Gareth W

Winding Up Daniel Hobbs Until He Spacks Out and Throws Chairs In the Computer Room

Mon, 27 Dec 2004 00:00:00 +0000

The repetitive monotony of this game in no way prevented us from playing it day in, day out, for two solid years.

An early warning system in his face (when stifling anger, he would hold his breath, and go bright purple) allowed you to take cover before the metal-legged chairs went airborne.

Once game ended in the smashing of two BBC Model Bs and a printer. After that, we really had to raise our game.

sam g

Wooden Arms, Mr Easton's

Mon, 29 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000

Sinister Woodwork teacher Mr Easton had, in his out-of-bounds ‘dangerous tools’ cupboard, an array of false wooden arms in various poses that he would place inside his right jacket sleeve so he had a free hand to crack one off unnoticed.

The myth extended to his after-school lawn bowling club where, apparently, frequent acts of consenting wooden-armed sodomy took place.

Johnny C

Wolf

Tue, 23 Nov 2004 00:00:00 +0000

Be prepared for any occasion when a teacher is about to break into one of those “I’m aware that blah blah, but you can’t just blah blah” lectures. The wind will be taken out of her sails if you shout “WOLF!” as soon as she says “I’m aware”.

The class can then have a heated Q & A session with the teacher about what it’s like to be a werewolf, and how she caught lycanthropy.

waitress, my sister is a

Mon, 18 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000

[img]

This diagram, taken from the Silver Service manual, illustrates three of the most essential elements of waitressing.

Give the customer their food immediately upon their arrival.
While they are eating their food, show them the menu.
Everything is ten pounds.

Jon B

why? joke, the

Fri, 15 Oct 2004 00:00:00 +0000

Approach your victim and tell him that you will say to him the names of various birds, and after each one he must say ‘Why?’.

You: ‘Eagle’

Him: ‘Why?’

You: ‘Swan’

Him: ‘Why?’

You: ‘Sparrow’

Him: ‘Why?’

You: ‘Crow’

Him: ‘Why?’

You: ‘Duck’

Him: ‘Why?’

You then swing your arm in a horizontal arc and smack him on the side of the head as hard as you can.

It should be a him , as girls lack the linguistic sophistication required for a joke of this cunning. Plus, they might say “Saying why after each bird makes no sense. I’m not going to indulge this folly,” the divs .

Walter/s

Sat, 24 Apr 2004 00:00:00 +0000

1982 film starring Ian McKellen as Walter, a mentally handicapped man. This was the first film to be shown on Channel 4 in England. Highlights include;

" on his first night in a mental hospital, he is sexually molested by a paraplegic dwarf "

" Finding his mother dead in bed, and unable to comprehend what has happened, Walter moves his pigeons into her bedroom, keeping a vigil while her body becomes progressively covered in bird droppings "

Walter became synonymous with Joey Deacon.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0383046/ - why not submit a review? We’ll be watching that page… Christ, you can buy it, too!

http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00006CXZN/qid=1089388390/ref=sr_8_xs_ap_i6_xgl/202-3118403-0775860

Bryan G

why don't you marry it then?, well

Sat, 27 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000

Childish riposte to a positive statement about anything at all.

“I really like Brush Strokes.”

“Well why don’t you marry it then?”

“Would you like a crisp?”

“Yes please.”

“Well why don’t you marry it then?”

The only possible retort to this is “perhaps I will”.

Susan T

I once went a step further during a conversation with my friend, Lee Crumpler.

Lee: “Doesn’t Christina look quite nice in that top?”

Me: “Well why don’t you rape her then?”

Can I just point out that I am not suggesting that ‘a step further’ after marriage is rape?

Drab G

Whiteboard markers

Tue, 09 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000

An unpopular teacher walks into the classroom at the start of the lesson to find, written in large letters on the whiteboard, the phrase

With facts used clearly marked, try to uncover better instances of heresy.

Assuming that it was left over from the previous lesson, she will reach for the board rubber and begin to erase the quote… only to discover that certain “choice” letters have been written in permanent marker, leaving

     f     u    c          k      y  o u       b      i  t  c      h     .

Cue hilarity.

[anon]

Wackers, Burners and Clumpers

Mon, 16 Feb 2004 00:00:00 +0000

This game involved a gang of people holding me down while someone drew huge sideburns in permament pen on my face just before the teacher came into class.

They got to draw sideburns on my face, I got to spend 45 minutes cleaning my face instead of doing RE. Sweet game.

Edward B

Weiners and peanut butter

Thu, 22 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000

Some people are urban legend magnets. I knew one girl who’d been accused of getting a frozen weiner “stuck up there” one week, and clearly didn’t learn her lesson, as the next week she tried to entice her dog up there with peanut butter.

You’d think the dog would’ve been happy enough to eat the weiner out, but no - this girl had put the fucking kitchen up there by the time we’d finished.

went out with the dinosaurs

Mon, 19 Jan 2004 00:00:00 +0000

To be unfashionable. " Fila trainers went out with the dinosaurs. " When applied to people, such as in the phrase, " Kim Wilde went out with the dinosaurs, " this can create a strange image of Kim Wilde briefly dating a Stegosaurus. This was my first interpretation of the phrase, and led to confusion when it was applied to trainers, coats, and television programmes.

Either I’d got it wrong, or dinosaurs would fuck anything .

Welly full of water fleas

Thu, 11 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000

What David Jones ended up with when we got bored on yet another fucking trip to the local country park to sift the pond for poxy whirligig beetles and cunting caddis fly larvae.

Leigh L

Slightly better than a welly full of leeches, which is precisely what one girl got on the Year 4 pond dipping excursion.

So David Jones got off lightly. Leeches suck your blood, you know, whereas water fleas only give you a mild nip that hardly even breaks the skin.

Zoe S

In a bid to stop me biting my nails, my parents bought me a jar of ‘Stop ’n’ Grow’, a foul-tasting but invisible preparation to be forcibly painted on one’s nails, thereby rendering them less attractive to the tooth.

One lunchtime I reasoned it would be a terrific wheeze to paint Stop ’n’ Grow onto the ends of everybody’s pens and pencils while they were out in the playground. My rookie mistake was to immediately tell a large handful of classmates - well, it wouldn’t be any fun if I kept it to myself, would it? Loyal foot soldiers Christina Bradwell and Helen Schnitzler found out and grassed. Everybody was warned not to suck the ends of their pens, and I got my first ever strokes of the cane.

Still think it was a rock idea, though.

This entry gets in (despite its inexplicable submission under ‘Welly Full of Water Fleas’) because I was similarly forced to undergo the torture of the foul Stop ’n’ Grow. The terror of the stuff will make you bite your nails to the quick - or not, of course. - Conor

simon m

After several weeks of use, one can develop a taste for Stop and Grow. I ate tons of the stuff.

Boo R

Law of the Playground Uncovered: By way of a response to someone who asked recently how the approval process works, here we’ve included an editorial conversation regarding this submission. See? We genuinely do care, and we rigorously look at entries from all the angles before approving them.

Jesus, you people… I submitted this Stop ’n’ Grow entry about six months ago, and can assure you I did not do so under “Welly full of water fleas”. Maybe the people directing traffic on this site are the same mongs who cack-handedly sub-edited my original submission and made me sound like a trans-Atlantic cross between Dirty Harry (“rookie mistake” - wtf??) and a Viz character. Cunts. Simon M.

Matt: Conor, he’s talking to YOU.

Conor: What a cunt! He should be fucking grateful we even looked at his shitty spack-handed entry and turned it into something halfway readable. Shall I approve this or just delete it?

Matt: You could put a news article on the front page that says “Simon M is a CUNT”.

Mansh: Hey you guys - chill out! Can’t we just all get along?

Ponky: Up your bottom, Grandad.

Log: I like lucozade

Phil: Get off me. Just get OFF me.

[anon]

What did I just say?

Sun, 07 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000

The standard response to a teacher’s question ‘what did I just say?’

[anon]

Want some gum?

Wed, 03 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A: Want some gum?

B: Ooh, yes, please.

A: CHEW MY BUM!!!!

Presumably the victim is too shocked by the voracity of the comeback to take you up on the offer.

[anon]

A variation of the offer of chewing gum, deftly switched with an invitation to chew your bum is available to those who have sweets.

A : Want a sweet?

B : Of course I do! I’m a kid. That’s what kids do! We want sweets!

A : Suck my feet!

B : Feet! That kinda came from nowhere. I thought you were going to give me sweets.

Here are the only five other sweet / body rhymes…

Want a Mars? Kiss my arse!

Want a Snickers? Piss your knickers!

Kola Kubes? Snag my pubes!

Reece’s Pieces? Suck my faeces!

Butterkist? Anal fist!

Can you think of more? If so, write them down and post them to your mother, see if SHE thinks your potty mouth is funny.

Jon B

What We Say

Wed, 03 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A way of tormenting a victim with no outstandingly bullyable attributes.

The bullies would run around the playground, pick a target and scream:

What we say is what you are -
you’re a NAKED BOOBIE STAR!

In retrospect, there are far worse insults than that. And in all fairness, some of them have indeed gone on to become naked boobie stars. Who’s laughing now?

[anon]

when I needed a neighbour

Sat, 29 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Classic junior school hymn featuring the line “I was cold, I was naked, were you there, were you there?” in verse three.

In the tabloid-fury-inducing PC establishment of my school, the thought of a classroom of pre-pubescent children singing about being naked was obviously too paedophilic, so we were enthusiastically encouraged to “sing verses 1, 2, 4, 5 and 6!”

Unless, of course, they banned verse three to avoid having to calm down a hundred giggling girls who otherwise wouldn’t have stopped for a good hour afterwards.

matronboy n

Weak bullying of Susan Bailey

Mon, 03 Nov 2003 00:00:00 +0000

I am the most pathetic bully ever. All I did was steal one epaulette off her winter coat and hide it in the pocket. And call her ‘Susie’.

Ginger S

Wiggy Roberts

Fri, 24 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000

An exercise in lameness. Our Geography teacher didn’t wear a wig. His hair was just a bit curly. But we called him Wiggy. Shit, right?

But we never even got close to calling him Wiggy to his face. As our school was on two sites, we would see him approach in his gold BMW, and chant “wiggy” to ourselves, stopping some minutes before he even got anywhere close to the classroom. Supershit.

By the time he got to the classroom, we were all perfectly calm and ready to learn about glaciation and viticulture for an hour. God, we were lame.

Having read that back, Wiggy seems rather ostentatious, driving a gold BMW and all. I would like to point out that it was quite old and painted gold. None of my teachers drove a solid gold sports car.

Robert R

What did your last slave die of?

Thu, 09 Oct 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Something your mother may well say when you bustle in from primary school demanding a cheese and marmite sandwich and WHEN IS ANDY CRANE ON?

The correct response to this is a dismissive flick of the wrist, with " I had her killed for her outrageous insolence “.

This exchange with my mother continues to this day, except now the demands are for my uniform to be ironed. And cheese and marmite sandwiches. The correct response is now " She forms the most recent chapter in a sorry saga of murdered slaves, all of whom asked that very fucking question “.

Alfred O

An alternative answer is “syphillis”.

[anon]

Winston Churchill

Fri, 19 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Supply teacher filling in for a history class picks on Leroy, the only black pupil in the room and asks “why was Winston Churchill famous?”

I can imagine she was expecting a response along the lines of “Prime Minister during WW2”, but Leroy’s actual response “he was the only white guy ever to be called Winston” left her genuinely impressed.

the mysterious w

If you want a bunch of crap hackneyed jokes to fill your website why don’t you just buy the FHM pub joke book and copy out the entire thing putting the word “teacher” in where appropriate. The child in this story is even called Leroy for fucks sake! Whats happened to the editing of this site? Remove this bucket of shit story now and ban whoever submitted this story as an example of what hapens to lying dick-faced asshole turds.

Phil: anonymous user, you make a compelling argument. I am afraid to admit that I was the foolish editor who allowed this one through, though in my defence I was pissed at the time.

[anon]

What are you eating under there?

Wed, 10 Sep 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A: What are you eating under there?

B: Under where?

Hilarity doesn’t just ensue, it’s positively guaranteed .

Cheryl M

Wee Tap, The

Tue, 12 Aug 2003 00:00:00 +0000

The middle water fountain on the playground at Hillbrook Infants School dispensed pure wee. Anyone drinking from the middle fountain would have stones thrown at them, and ‘Wee Tap’ screamed in their faces.

On the hottest days in summer, massive queues would form for the other two taps. The Wee Tap was always free, if you dared…

Richard S

wedge

Wed, 09 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A haircut that has a “step” in it at about ear height round the back, so that instead of tapering from long to short the transition was sudden. Inexplicably fashionable for a short period in the early nineties, up until a few days before I had mine done.

<I>Also see: Mackenzie Crook’s hairdo in <I>The Office* . And the rhyme “There’s a BAS-in errigATION, and it’s RUINING the NATION.” (Errigation sounded like an important word at the time. It was intended to mean “trend” or “epidemic”. It actually means, um, nothing. I made it up.)*

Who's the Fruity One Now

Sat, 05 Jul 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Exclamation made, apropos of nothing, by Alan Lu, who leapt from his seat in the middle of Film Analysis class. General consensus holds that Alan is still and will always be the fruity one.

Katherine W

wee and poo

Thu, 10 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000

In my infant’s school we had a lethal set of rough concrete play equipment fixed to the playground. One such piece of apparatus was the traditional 70’s concrete boat. It was divided in the middle by two planks of wood. We designated one side as ’ wee ’ and one as ’ poo ‘. The game generally consisted of getting someone in either half and then running around the boat shouting ‘you’re in poo/ wee’ and laughing at them. Variation was to all trot around on the edge of the boat or on the planks trying to push each other into the wee or poo….and then shout at each other.

Waving at aeroplanes

Wed, 09 Apr 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Whenever an aeroplane would fly over the school playground, all the kids would wave their hands frantically in the vain hope that the pilots would mistake us for stranded civilians and land to save us. Surprisingly, they never did.

alex h

Margaret Thatcher was due to open a pointless monument in my town and our school field was chosen for her helicopter landing pad. The headmaster was in a frenzy about it for weeks, and planned for the whole school to stand in formation on the rugby pitch to spell the word “welcome”, so that it would be visible from the air. That morning, despite 4 hours of being shuffled around by near-hysterical teachers, our inability to stand still meant that when Thatcher’s helicopter finally appeared on the horizon, it was welcomed by what could only have looked like a mob of 1500 randomly arranged kids all waving the “v"s at her. This caused her to change her mind, land in the car park at the other side of the school, and immediately drive off, completely avoiding us in doing so. Bitch.

Wankers cramp

Thu, 27 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Make a fist, hold it up in front of you.

“What’s this?” you ask your victim.

“I don’t know!” they reply.

“Wanker’s cramp!” you respond, continuing with “Do you get it?”

“Haha! Yes!” they gleefully reply.

“Do you get it a lot? You must be a wanker! Wanker, wanker, wanker!” Victory is yours.

Nick H

Boy X: “What’s five pax plus five pax?”

Boy Y: “Ten pax?”

Boy X: “Do you get it?”

Boy Y: “Er… Yes. Yes I do.”

By trying desperately not to look stupid, ‘Y’ has made a fatal error in admitting that he buys Tampax. ‘Y’ has also acknowledged that he is gay, and that once a month, he has a period out his arse.

Christo F

Why are you doing this to me?

Thu, 27 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A pitiful cry in a bullying situation that very rarely leads to a moment of quiet introspection on the part of the bully. Although it would be nice if the bully replied;

Two things really. Primarily, I’m establishing my alpha male status in the only way I know how, and on a more personal level I’m venting the rage that I feel from physical and mental abuse in the home

as he continued mushing the weedy intellectual’s face into pulp.

A rather pitiful response from a victim of, what they consider to be a needless beating, a victim of playground fun. This usually gives the victim about three seconds whilst the attackers think of a reason for said beating. The most common responses for this are: you have a weird face, cos I feel like it or the all time great…shut up you little cunt followed by another thump. what do they think, that your gonna suddenly think shit, what am I doing. Use of imagination would not go unnoticed, sniveling is just pathetic.

[anon]

Wank You Hairy Crutch

Sat, 15 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000

Will generate instant kudos if said - quickly - in place of “Thank You Very Much” to a figure of authority.

Lemon C

On similar lines (but not as rude, so resulting in less kudos points), is “Hairy Muff” or “Fairy Muff” said in place of “Fair Enough”. - Matt Fasham

Excrement point Matt, truly excrement. - The Boy Tucker

The Boy T

Wearing A Bra In Grade Five

Tue, 11 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000

…Or, A Rather Upsetting Story From a Fifty-Year-Old Woman Inadvisedly But Heartfeltedly Seeking Some Sort of Catharsis on a Whimsy-based Internet Site.
We hope you all feel terrible now.

The boys loved me, and the girls hated me. I am fifty years old now, but when I was nine years old, I was the first girl in the history of my school to wear a bra in Grade Five. They were cotton then, with metal hooks, and pointed…Beverly Hillbillies was big back then, I had long blond hair…I became the immediate focus of all the boys attention, being yelled at with “falsies” each and every turn…I made the big mistake of replying “I don’t wear falsies.” I got a big guffaw, well prove it…I guess they expected me to lift my bra…this was aside from the boys always pulling at the straps. One day leaving school, I noticed a crowd of boys gathered…“You are going to prove that you are not wearing falsies”, I knew I was in big trouble, I ran…I ran, and I almost made it home, but I was knocked down, and about twenty guys put their hands up my bra and got a good feel…oh this was about 1963 when all the world was full of prim and proper people…

Wanking race

Thu, 06 Mar 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A plea : did the hard lads in anyone else’s school have wanking races in lessons or was it just our school? It mainly happened in maths. Three or four lads would sit at the back with their knobs out and masturbate under the desk - to completion. Sometimes the pikey girls would join them with shatterproof rulers for measuring purposes. This also occurred on the back seat of our school coach. Any chance they got, really. Was this really a unique phenomenon?

spadge m

The wanking race also occured in our scout troop. I politely declined due to the rather unsettling homosexual undertones, possibly something to do with one of the leaders joining in.

( May or may not be true, but oh! - the delivery! - Log)

Harry G

Were you raised in a barn?

Sat, 22 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000

A standard example of what Bill Cosby might call inter-generational rhetoric .

When walking into a form room without closing the door behind you, the teacher may ask this of you.

The best way out of this so far is to say, " no, a crackhouse ," which I came up with all by myself.

Laura H

Why-clef

Wed, 12 Feb 2003 00:00:00 +0000

At one of our 5th year semi-formals, a particularly drunk clifford, for a dare, pulled Anne. Not terribly amusing, except that Anne had a crippling speech impediment that made her sound like she had constantly blocked nostrils. In a moment of clarity, Clifford tried to escape, only to be confronted by a confused Anne asking “Why Clefford, why won’t you talk to me?”.

Thus, whyclef was born. Piss-taking almost petered out in Upper sixth, until we realised that the ceiling tiles in the common room roofspace were a different colour when turned upside down. Clifford walked in next day to find a large WHY accusing him from the ceiling.

(I’m still stumped over what a “semi-formal” might be. The mental image is a rather nattily dressed, partially erect penis. Possibly weighed down by a minature top hat dangling rakishly from the bell end. Susan.)

bo f

Wedgie

Thu, 23 Jan 2003 00:00:00 +0000

The practice of forcing the gusset of one’s (or another’s) underwear between the buttocks to create a visible cleft. Particularly amusing if inadvertantly caused by high waisted trousers. Walking with a wedgie is “Chewing cheese”.

Variations include Skidders McKenzie , based on the gold watches (q.v.) you would gain from a severe wedgie

Daniel W

Also known as a Melvin. (See: Bill and Ted etc etc)

Dave L

Actually, a melvin was in the front, and a wedgie was in the back. A particularly feared prospect was the Atomic Melvin, in which one’s stretchy boxer-briefs were pulled so far up that the elastic band could be placed over one’s head.

W.G. Grace

Thu, 19 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Having cricket shoes that looked like they had been handed down from your Victorian ancestors guaranteed you the nickname of bearded cricket legend WG Grace. If your name was Clive that is. An “accurate” replica of Grace’s signature was then stencilled permanently on to both shoes and a new chant created of ‘glasses, teeth and beard’, continued indefinitely. The glasses and teeth bit were from Clive’s own milk bottle and ivory features, the beard WG Grace’s.

Tyrannosaurus F

Watchbreaker

Thu, 19 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Someone severeley lacking in co-ordination, motor-ability and self-control (an Arch-Deacon). Once identified you must approach, force your tounge into your lower lip (as ever), slap your left wrist with the back of your right hand and shout “duuurrrr… watch breaker”.

[anon]

when are the spaceships coming to rescue us?

Fri, 13 Dec 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A religious chant. When the spaceships come, some will be marked with Xs, and some with Os. We’re supposed to get in the O ones. Or is it X? Anyway, they haven’t come yet.

Dupli C

walker, the

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A process involving one victim, one person sitting on the victim’s chest, and two people walking in opposite directions with the victim’s legs.

Mr

walking on the moon

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Basis of the bullying of Anthony Loucaides. We would jeer, point and kick him, whilst singing The Police song. When we sang “What’s it like walking on the moon?” we would all then ruffle his hair. This would usually provoke a brutally violent response on his part as he lashed out wildly with wind-milling arms screaming “I don’t know; I’ve never been there”. In hindsight, this was an adequate and fair response. It did not prevent further puerile brutality however.

Matt K

Strange. I always thought I had rather enjoyed my school days. Perhaps I’m just repressing those terrible memories.

Matt King? Is this the Matthew King whose entire sexual experience during his school years was with Stuart Hoskins on a snooker table? Surely he can come up with a better character assassination than this over a decade after I spread that rumour.

Well, Matt? Did you do it with Stuart Hoskins on a snooker table? Are you Stuart Hoskins and was he any good? The LotP team would like to hear from you. Ponky

[anon]

wall punching

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A way of demonstrating how hard and/or stupid you are. At ours, it started off quite mildly but soon escalated t o the stage where the wall was being thumped so hard that shards of brick were falling off, and kids would come in to lessons with blood pouring from their knuckles. This was largely tolerated by the teachers and went on for some while until some kids hit on the idea of using their heads instead of their fists.

Kellog

Also consider Locker Nutting , (headbutting a locker to non-English readers).

Quite painless if you hit the middle of the door, and you look pretty hard to boot. Rendered all the funnier when Paul Murphy asked the whole class to watch him do it then nutted the frame between lockers, making him cry like a gay baby.

Lee R

Note to amateur locker-nutters: If the locker door falls off after repeated nuttings, don’t feel compelled to throw it out of a second floor window, narrowly missing the caretaker’s head. Maustin did this and is probably still in detention aged 26.

Jo B

wangas wanking tree, the

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An afternoon gathering place for boys in the early stages of masturbation exploration, in which they could sit and toss off save in the knowledge that girls rarely went to Wangas. Wangas was a big plot of wasteland near our school, and the tree a big, slightly collapsed Oak. If you sat in the tree you had to wank to the point of ejaculation otherwise you couldn’t get down. The tree had an established hierarchy, the better you were at wanking, the higher in the tree you wanked. Therefore, you were less likely to be hit by anything flying out above you. One kid (Steven McIntyre) was really popular in our class, thanks to his hard Army brother, but fell down the wanking order after he claimed to have spunked, when in actuality he had just secreted a mixture of piss and precum. Dirty liar.

Jamie G

wank wank oops

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Pretending to wank followed by flicking the wrist, and the imaginary ejaculate, to one side. As you do this, say “oops!”, as though ejaculating is the last thing on your mind when you’re having a wank. The first time the “oops” variant was used was in a PE lesson. The bollockings and detentions lent it such bonus kudos that it caught on very quickly.

Daniel B

wankerchief

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A handkerchief set aside for exclusive wanking use. Also “spunky wankerchief” - a freshly used wankerchief. A hanky used after a single badly-planned wank, and then returned to normal handkerchief duties, is not a wankerchief.

Adrian L

wanking, alleged ill effects of

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Makes You Blind

If you wank into your own eyes and do not rinse, wanking can make you go blind. This is bad, as you need your eyes to wank if you’re going to get the spunk out in under 30 seconds. “Thinky Wanks” take longer and are not worth it.

Jon B

Makes You Deaf

“Wa-ka Maya Deh!”

“Pardon?”

“Wan Kamakya Deeeh!”

“What?”

“Wanking Makes You Deaf!”

Blacky

Makes Your Balls Shrink

I was told, and believed, that wanking used up bits of your balls, and therefore every wank would make your balls shrink a little. When they finally disappeared, you would be unable to support life, and would die. Rather than making me relish each wank, this made me frantically wank at every opportunity, using the same logic that convinces fat people that eating things quickly reduces the body’s ability to absorb the calories.

Jon B

Apparently Clare Fieldhouse masturbated 13 times in one day, the dirty bitch. Most I ever managed was 7, and I’m male.

Yes, but it only counts if it’s to ‘issue’ for a boy (or certain talented lady actresses in bongo fillums), or wobbly wetlegs for a girl. I mean, I have maintained a lazy lob for HOURS in front of daytime telly when throwing a sickie without actually blowing my stack. I demand a recount.

Captain C

wanky wanky wank wank chair

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Among the many identical “comfy” chairs in our sixth common room there was one on which someone had written “WANKY WANKY WANK WANK (it’s Friday innit)”. I think the Friday part was an afterthought, a misguided attempt to explain the previous statement. The chair became an essential accessory to any activity, to the extent that people were tipped off their chairs to see if they were sitting on the WANKY WANKY WANK WANK chair. When it was found, it was carried triumphantly out of the room, and we took it onto the all-weather pitch and played football around it.

Lee B

war

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

When I was very small, about kite size, I had a deep fascination with guns. I had over 50 mock guns, one in particular was about four and a half foot long (with a weird tooth like object that moved randomly). Myself and 3/4 friends would run about a small Cornish village making the noise similar to that of a metal dog being fired into a school window. The problem was we would end up fighting about who shot each other first - for example “You can’t shoot me back, I shot you in the face” “No you didn’t you missed” “No I saw your eye explode” “No that was a bird” The weird thing is, now I have a gun and I want to kill them all, slowly over a period of hours.

wasps, partial

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

James Reed would put his hand on the table and produce half a wasp, stuck to his index finger. When asked how it got there, he would say that he swallowed it, and it magically appeared in his finger. He also fancied my sister, the sick bastard.

Tom P

Tony Langley used to put dead wasps on his tongue and then chase Paul Fletcher around the classroom. Why did Tony Langley do this? Because it scared Paul Fletcher. Why was Paul Fletcher scared? Because Tony Langley had a wasp on his tongue.

Andy M

we are lucky cows

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The victim would be clamped to the ground and force fed grass. Meanwhile, the perpetrator and any invested observers would remind the victim how fortunate he was by singing the words to the Anchor Butter song: ' we are lucky cows - we chew the cud and browse '.

Count yourself lucky. There are some cows out there who aren't chewing the cud and, erm, browsing . You wouldn't want to be one of those cows, would you?

we won the war

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

After declaring war on a neighbouring gang and throwing stones at them for a while, it was customary to link arms and parade around the street singing “We won the war, in 1964”. Despite the fact that it was 1978, and the other gang had only left the field of battle because it was time for their tea.

Ricco

I believe the complete verse is:-

“We won the war, in 1964,

Guess what we done, we kicked ’em up the bum”

1978 sounds about right..

Steve N

we're playing army, who wants to join us?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A chant to be heard around the playground after lunch… those who wanted to “join us” would link arms with the end person and join in the chant. We never actually got to play “Army” so I cannot tell you the rules or objectives. It was always time to go in by the time we had enough people. Even though we didn’t know how many people you needed to play Army, as we had never played it.

Bridget

we're walking straight, get out of our way

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A variation on “we’re playing army, who wants to join us?”. A line of boys would link arms and march across the playground chanting “We Walk Straight So You’d Better Get Out Of The Way!” their legs kicking out in front of them in a cross between the Can-can and goose step. Children too slow or too stupid to move would be kicked. Eventually the line would reach the end of the playground, one of the downsides of walking straight was that it made turning round very difficult. Chaos ensued.

Evil J

wee!

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Childish. It’s usages include; Childish acts are to be met with cries of “Wee!” As an adjective; “God Jim, you are so wee!” As a reply to an insult; “Oh, wee”

Evil J

well, you're not at home now

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Rather feeble comeback to the pupil’s comeback to the original question “Do you do that at home?”

Phileas

were you born with happiness?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Yet another no-win scenario. Yes - then run around dancing, singing - you are happy, you are gay. If they say no, run around, dancing, singing - you weren’t born with a penis - you are gay.

[anon]

An alternative used at my primary school was “were you born in happiness or symphony?”. Nerdy spack boys (like myself) would usually say symphony, thinking it was cleverer, only to be told “eurrr! you were born with a sim-fanny!”

Chief C

We asked “were you born with happiness or a fat knee?”

The assumption is that these are mutually exclusive conditions, but I’ve met many cheerful chubby people, and they can’t all have been hermaphrodites. Could they?

[anon]

whale's brain

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

In Primary Year Four (age 9) we had a teacher called Miss O’Toole who was a bit short sighted. So short sighted was she that just about anything would be accepted for the Nature Table. My offering was a turd (my own in fact) in a Roses Lime Marmalade jar filled with sea water. This was labeled “Whales Brain” and took pride of place on the Nature Table. It was still there when my sister followed on the next year.

Paul M

what you say is what you are

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Flawed response to any insult. The planned exchange runs thusly:

Kid A: You’re a gay.

Kid B: What you say is what you are.

Kid A: Touché! I am confounded.

One problem is the literal interpretation… leading to this improbable exchange:

Kid A: You’re a gay.

Kid B: What you say is what you are.

Kid A: What, I’m a you’re a gay?

The more fundamental problem is that you’re allowing the other person to say “Oh, in that case, fantastic sexy stud man train driver”. Imperfect and to be avoided.

what's the time?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Kid A : What’s the time? Kid B : Tampax nine! Kid A : Durex-spect me to believe that? Kid B : I johnny well do! Kid A : Well wanks a lot. Kid B : Tit’s alright, tit’s a pleasure! A general clamour to start this exchange happened at around ten past nine every morning.

Jonathan H

Other answers to “What’s the time?” include, " Hair past freckle “, " Hair past skin “, or, of course, the hilarious " Time Big Ben had babies. "

Nick H

as i never had a watch, saying “it’s just gone so’s me watch” always kept me top of my comedic game, assuring me popularity and sex from any bird I wanted.

Mark M

where do you live?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Where do you live? In a sieve. What street? Pig’s feet. What number? Cucumber. Has a certain rudimentary surrealism.

EJ

whisper whisper whisper whisper

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

You have been asked to form a line, in twos. The teacher informs you that it is necessary to be quiet, so you must whisper. Upon this decree, everyone must (audibly) whisper the words “whisper whisper whisper whisper” to one another. The teacher will acknowledge this with a grateful “all right, thank you”.

Nick D

white board

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Buying permenant markers from Smiths and then substituting them for the dry wipe markers on the teacher’s desk resulted in hilarity when said teacher attempted to rub off the day’s notes. It was even more hilarious when one of the kids decided to play “rude hangman” when the teacher was away for 20 minutes. When the teacher returned, he was a little surprised to find the slightly smudged-word “COCKSUCKER” printed in large letters on the board.

Loz

who wants to join the line... no girls!

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Similar to “we’re playing army, who wants to join us?” but without the objective of playing army, and with no girls allowed (in case of ’lurgy’ infection). An utterly pointless parade, which would gradually dissipate after 10 minutes in favour of football.

Nick

who wants to play star wars... one girl!

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An amalgamation of “we’re playing war, who wants to join us”, and “who wants to join the line… no girls!” The new, strictly limited tolerance towards girls was forced upon boys, none of whom wanted to pretend to be Princess Leia. Followed the same pattern of standing in line with arms around each others’ shoulders, chanting the name of the game again and again, and never actually playing it.

Tom B

who's got horse disease?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An assembly warning told all that ‘One pupil had been playing in a field where he shouldn’t have and got bit on the shoulder by a horse’. An older child gave us the victim’s first name - Glen - but no more. A simple game ensued by hitting the entire population of Glen’s in our school on the shoulder whilst asking ‘who’s got horse disease’ until one screamed. Due to the unpopularity of the name Glen, the game was played once and only for a very short time.

SmallPaul

who's got my hairy toe?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A real song we were taught at school about a witch who used to keep a hairy toe in a cupboard, until a ghost (to whom the toe originally belonged) came along in the night and stole it back. Both the witch and the ghost sang the line “Whoooooooose got my hairy toe?”, even though a witch walking around saying that kind of thing would be asking for it, magic powers or no.

Jackie J

who's your new friend?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

If you are late, or are moved by the teacher for your unruly behaviour, you may have to sit next to someone unpopular, or someone who smells. You will be asked who your new best friend is; both you and the smelly child must pretend not to have heard. This mutual shame will not cause a bond between the victims, and it will not be spoken of again.

SmallPaul

whoever smelt it dealt it

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Well worn fart-blame transferral method, first documented in print in an episode of Johnny Fartpants around 1990.

The established order is;

“Whoever smelt it dealt it”

“Whoever denied it supplied it”

“Whoever made the rhyme committed the crime.”

Despite some of the best minds in the world working day and night on the matter, no further possibilities have been found. These failures show the difficulties facing innovators; “Whoever tried to tell made the smell” (inelegant) “Whoever passed the buck gassed the truck” (only effective on trucks) “Whoever went to the trouble to needlessly place the blame, probably is responsible for the fart that started the game” (a little long)

Jon B

During a particularly inspired bout of smelt it dealt it with my sister, I was overjoyed to come up with ‘The one who told the story did the glory’. Despite my best efforts it never moved into common parlance, and with hindsight I see why.

Will J

Only known exit from this conundrum is to state “I can’t smell anything”. You can say this even if you have been arguing for some minutes about who farted, by which time it will have dissipated anyway, and the class can return to DefCon Two.

Dr R

We always said “whoever rhymed it, crimed it”.

Criming* something was considered a perfectly legitimate term. A variant would be to run up to someone, shout “Criminal Activity!” and steal someone’s bag of crisps, or something.

griff

why did you do this to me?

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The instinctive cry of the RE teacher locked in a cupboard.

Moses

Our cupboard-bound RE teacher was heard muttering something about strawberry ‘Opal Fruits’. I suppose we all have our individual preoccupations.

[anon]

wide on

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The female equivalent of a hard on.

Ross T

willie

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An alternative spelling that makes an inoffensive word even less offensive. Even adds an eccentric charm. No-one could be upset if you suggested that they didn’t have a willie.

Gravy

willy worms, the

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The Willy Worms were football playing penises with faces. They were born in an art lesson when we were instructed to draw a picture of a disaster. Stephen Lodziak opted for a pen and ink rendering of 50,000 people trying to get into the 9,000 capacity Abbey Stadium for a Queen concert and being crushed to death, Hillsborough-style. Despite this, the disaster was that a boy in the foreground, arriving late for the gig, had fallen off his bike and grazed his knee slightly. While Stephen was in the toilet the rest of us added an impromptu rendering of The Willy Worms having a kickaround to the exisiting masterpiece. When our exceptionally camp teacher Mr Salisbury came over to assess our work, he looked at Stephen’s picture, put a comforting arm around his shoulder and with a weak smile said “Are you feeling better now?”

Paul H

window lickers

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Spackers on the Variety Club Sunshine Bus, whose slumped heads and lolling tongues would bang into the window as it went over bumps. Taste the sky mungo, taste the sky!

Al M

This bus would also be known as the Munch Bunch bus, after the Children’s ITV programme featuring a load of animated vegetables.

Sean

window lickers tormented me, and ruined my life. one i rested my head on a window which had window licker juice on it. i started spazzing out and started throwing feaces. i was sent to jail where i was bummed by a big window licker called frank.

Playground Uncovered: Another example of the raw material we have to spin into gold to make this site what it is. We don’t want your pity, we just want to dig the fresh corneas out of your head to replace our own jaded, shit-smeared eyeballs. –The team.

window l

wing chun

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An ancient and well-regarded discipline of Kung Fu. As a close range system of combat, spinning and high kicks do not feature heavily. As such, a shit way of impressing your friends, even disregarding the partially accurate story that it was invented by a one-armed nun.

Jon B

wobble

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

This needs to be pictured. Of a sudden, someone might touch your arm and announce ‘Wobble!’ whereupon everyone in your vicinity would simultaneously jump away from you, dance up and down and sing the title music to Captain Pugwash over and over again until you managed to touch someone else. Clearly elements of ’tig’ are involved, but the inclusion of a sea shanty is somewhat more obscure.

Glenn-Emlyn

wolfbagging

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

It’s a gay thing. After taking your man doggie style, then proceed to reign him with bacon rind (or other appropriate unpleasant item). On reaching climax tug hard on the reigns, your partner will puke and his sphincter will tighten around your phallus - resulting in a hightened orgasm. Apparently.

Chris G

womble

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

Quite simply, our Health Education teacher pointed to a diagram of a penis on the board, and exclaimed “The foreskin.” One poor child remarked: “What’s a foreskin? I haven’t got a foreskin.” The teacher was sympathetic, the kids less so. The teacher explained this was normal. However, when he the pointed on the diagram to the testicles, only to be met by the boy’s increasing confusion: “What are testicles? I haven’t got any testicles”, the whole class lost all control of their senses. Womble, or “One-Ball”, was created to celebrate this day. It turned out that he was telling the truth. It was carnage down there.

TizOr

In our playground we had some rusty movable hooops, which we used to play netball or basketball with. One of the drawbacks was that occasionally the ball would become jammed up against the top of the basket, and whoever had thrown the ball would have to shin up and knock it back out again.

On one such occasion, Trevor Smith climbed up the pole and, after successfuly knocking the ball free, slid back down. However, he had forgotten that there was a hook designed to hold up a tennis net halfway down, which he duly impaled his nutsack on. In his obvious agony he let go of the pole and was left hanging only by his scrotum, about 5 feet from the ground.

I was one of the 20 or so boys who could do nothing but vomit as he flailed helplessly, emiting an ever increasingly high pitched scream until he was ‘unhooked’ by some teachers.

After a few weeks off school he returned with the imaginative nickname ‘Womble’ but frankly I would be suprised if anything had survived the rusty hook. Just writing this has chilled me to the bone(r).

Alex M

wood doesn't conduct

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An unusual case of knowledge bullying. Using limited electrical know-how, you might be convinced that by standing on a wooden chair, you are free to stick scissors into a mains socket then turn it on. The reason you’re going to be OK is because the electricity wil have nowhere to go, as you are not earthed. This is a lie.

Augustus

The only drawback to this plan is that it assumes an innate desire to stick scissors in plug sockets. Most children probably don’t waste much time thinking “I wish that socket wasn’t so full of electricity, then I could stick these scissors in it.”

Jon B

Nah, but teaspoons do. Steal three teaspoons from the dining room. One each in live and neutral ( before the days of shuttered sockets this ). Flick the switch, then drop the third teaspoon across the now live pair.

As I discovered, one almighty fuck off great big bang later, and the transformer that serviced that block caught fire.

Most amusing. So much so I repeated it whenever I could. Damn the day when the circuit breaker was installed. Damn it and its eyes to hell and back.

[anon]

wooden tit

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

An appropriate name for teachers who have had a mastectomy. Children just learning about pirates will assume that any lost limbs are instantly replaced with a wooden facsimile. The usefulness or feasibility of a wooden tit should never be called into question.

Neil S

Also from the song “Wouldn’t it, wouldn’t it, wouldn’t it be funny, If a lady had a wooden tit, Wouldn’t it be funny?”

Phil G

wookie fuckie

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The shortest most descriptive term for the sounds a deaf person makes when undergoing an orgasm.

[anon]

worm patrol

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

The philanthropic children who check the perimeter of the gravel playground for worms who have become stranded, and are in dire peril of being trodden on. Worms are picked up and delivered promptly back to sweet diggable grass. Particularly dedicated worm patrollers may kiss the worms. This makes the worms happier.

Jon B

wusty wivvets

Sun, 24 Nov 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A demonstration that people with the ‘r to w’ speech impediment seem hopelessly drawn to alliterative phrases. ‘Sir, what are these?’ ‘They’re wusty wivvets, boy’ Reacted badly to continued ridicule when we were faced with the terrifying prospect of his “wwath”.

Garth