The Law of the Playground
the letter b
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You're boss! That means I think you're great. So we would snap our fingers to Aztec Camera's Somewhere in my Heart on the radio, and agree that 'that song was boss', too. And Bruce Springsteen - how boss was the Boss?
Let me stop you there. Recent surveys have shown that Bruce Springsteen was, in fact, a Bent Over Sheep Shagger. Moreover, he's the bent-over sheep shagger, having pipped everyone else to the number one spot in a gruelling week-long animal shagathon.
He prefers the bent-over position, because he likes to feel the freshly shorn wool against his tummy, and this also allows another sheep to mount him, as he plays lucky Pierre in a raunchy ovine three-way.
Be careful when accepting this compliment, especially when it's preceded by "a", "the", or "my".
approved Sep 13 2005, submitted Jul 25 2005 by Matthew Loughlin, Jon Blyth
Not sure about the spelling as this phrase has probably never been written down, and I've certainly no idea of the etymology. However, you attain a Boss Fugel when a turd touches the bottom of the bowl while it's still coming out of your bum hole.
approved Jun 18 2004, submitted Apr 23 2004 by Kevin Deighton
German for ambassador. Also the letter "G" is pronounced "gay" in German. Harry Enfield wasn't just pandering to popular Nazi stereotypes. The evidence is everywhere.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Ben Crockatt
When I was seven, an English kid joined my class midway through the school year. His name was Guy. A nice kid who looked like an albino bush baby. I am an American person, and as such I am circumsized, as were the other boys in my class. Why Americans mutilate their cods, I have no idea, but we do.
One day during recess, all the boys in class went for a squirt behind the trees. Guy took his uncircumized weenus out and someone screamed, "He's got a bottle dick!" So we beat him. Sorry, Guy.
Readers: Was there an American boy in your class with a 'mutilated cod'? Did he walk around, thinking that there was absolutely nothing wrong with having a 'circumsized weenus', even though he wasn't Jewish - nor did he have some kind of life-threatening medical condition which made him piss upwards into his kidneys, hence the need for his parents to cut half of his knob off and keep it in a jar for keepsake?
What did you call him? Perhaps it was "Crayola cock" or something. For example.
approved Apr 26 2006, submitted Apr 20 2006 by Name Withheld
After a P.E. teacher mispronounced Boucher (Bow-chuh) in a poncesome French Bou-Shay stylee, poor Boucher received constant stick for his vicarious pretention. He even corrected the teacher; that didn't stop up us putting our fingers to our noses and saying "My name's Bou-Shay, I am the Prince of Wales."
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
The only thing you can convincingly change the letters of Huxley to, should you know a boy called Huxley who compulsively writes his own name on everything. You can then insist on calling him Boxlex for the remainder of his life. Alternatively, steal the pencils, change the names, and then say "these aren't your pencils, they appear to belong to a boy called Boxlex. Since there are no Boxlex's here, I think I shall use them." Then, you can chew them for half an hour and give them back. I didn't actually do this, but I wish I had.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Joey Deacon, the Alpha. John's Not Mad, the Omega.
But there was a third person to whom we turned during the 80's to take the piss out of, through fear and dread. Thanks to Desmond Wilcox's 'The Visit' programme, we were introduced to the third member of this holy trinity in 1980:
David Lopez a.k.a. 'The Boy David'.
It was important that it was pointed out in the title that he WAS a boy; when first discovered by a holidaying plastic surgeon, he had no more than a big hole in his face with two eyes on top. To eat, he sucked lollipops between his tongue and the base of his brain - a process which could be mimicked by slapping food into a friend's face and shouting "NNNNNGGGGGGG... DAVID LOPEZ!!"
Here is a picture of David Lopez today, after more than 100 operations. On the right, note the moderately attractive woman taking the piss.
approved Jul 12 2004, submitted Dec 23 2003 by Andy Mansh
What you did was, you sneaked up behind someone and, with one hand over your mouth, held the other over the person's head and counted silently to yourself. If and when the person noticed, they had to cover their own mouth, whereupon you would shout "[Victim's name] has [whatever number you had managed to count to, or alternatively a completely made up number] boyfriends!"

There was a variation where you held two crooked fingers over your mouth, and your victim had to do the same, and woe betide them if they got it mixed up... Woe betide indeed.
approved Feb 18 2003, submitted Feb 17 2003 by Sus K
Another way to make someone have a large amount of boyfriends/girlfriends would be as follows:
1: Put your hands together, palms facing you, fingertips touching.
2: Approach someone and ask them to "Open the gates". They will then have to pull your hands from the middle so they swing out like saloon doors.
3: Tell them to "Pick some flowers" and watch as they pick imaginary flowers.
4: Ask them how many flowers they have. If they say "One", keep asking until they say five or many more.
The number of flowers they have after youve stopped commanding them to pick more damn flowers corresponds to the number of boyfriends/girlfriends they have. Not a very good insult considering that the person making the joke is highly unlikely to have a boy/girlfriend of their own.
approved Mar 17 2003, submitted Mar 16 2003 by Charlie Webb
The number of partners you have of the opposite sex is linked directly to how gay you are. For instance, a boy with over twenty girlfriends is pretty damn gay - but if he had fifty girlfriends, his gayness would shoot through the roof. Similarly, a girl with two hundred boyfriends is such an impossibly up-front lesbian that she might as well have a velvet-tipping machine strapped to her jowels.

A woman with 225 boyfriends wearing her newest velvet-tipping machine.
approved Jun 24 2005, submitted Jun 16 2005 by anonymous user
Great trick if your most hated teacher is called Mr Boyle, who is a fat, sweaty, balding german teacher with no sense of humour, like ours was. Set up a kettle in your room (oh, it has to be a boarding school). Upon seeing Mr. Boyle approaching, switch the kettle on, and lean out of the window, yelling 'Boyle, you bastard!' Then duck out of the way before the fat fucker could see you. When Boyle came waddling in, red faced, to investigate, the shouting would continue in such a way that when Boyle entered the room it would appear you were cursing the kettle for its poor performance. Whoever came up with this, I salute you.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jack Hobhouse
Shithole power station in which geography students were invited to attend for a week's school holiday (pikey kids went to the Outdoor Pursuits Centre). The week's activities generally involved walking the streets and questioning frightened old ladies about delta plains and longshore drift, walking along the beach throwing sharp stones at each other, and for those of us who didn't go out on the town at night, developing a scary proficiency for table tennis in the dingy little cellar.

Sleeping was frowned upon, as anyone who so much as closed their eyes for longer than a few seconds had their eyebrows shaved or lots of shaving foam spunked on their forehead. There was always someone who'd drop off first, usually Roger, and he'd usually end up going apeshit mental when we tried to put a banana in his mouth, crazy scamps that we were.

I'm pretty sure every school in South East Anglia had to endure the torture of Bradwell power station at some time in their life, unless you took pissy History and spent all day looking at Mr Newton's gay little drawings on the blackboard.
approved Mar 10 2003, submitted Mar 9 2003 by Alistair Gray
At Great Portland Street, which was a school for the blind, which is where I went because my eyes are shit, I discovered that you could press down some of the Braille dots on the hymn books.

The name of the school was written on the front cover of the books, and by removing the lower left dot of the P, and the two lower dots on the O of Portland, hundreds of blind children looked aghast as they fingers told them they were attending Great Fartland Street.

Not the rudest thing in the world, but just thought you'd like to know there's a lighter side to perpetual darkness.
approved Oct 4 2011, submitted Dec 17 2003 by Benedict Reeves
To be worthy of "brassneck" was to have been embarassed to an extreme degree, such as thinking that the members of Adam's Ants were "Marco Merrick (one man), Terry Lee, Garry Tibbs and your Julie". Yes.
approved Oct 22 2003, submitted Oct 21 2003 by Alan Boon
Opposite of "make friends". A remarkably civil ceremony that all friendly interaction shall cease, performed with a sharp, single, handshake. You may, at any time, "make friends" again, for instance, if you want to borrow a rubber, with this rhyme; "Make friends, make friends, never never break friends. If you do, you'll catch the 'flu, and that will be the end of you." Warning; this is childish.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Nick Dimmock, Jon Blyth
To make friends the forefingers should be linked and shaken, to break friends the little fingers should be used. If you're breaking friends and you really mean it, simple twist your hand during the ceremony and dislocate their finger.
That'll teach them to use your protractor without asking.
approved Oct 31 2003, submitted Oct 27 2003 by becki moss
Whilst waiting for 'bedtime' at our boarding school we would practice our breakdancing skills. Nothing strange there, except that we were dressed in paisley patterned viyella pyjamas, dressing gowns and corduroy slippers and 'performing' on a carpet covered floor. Cool!
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Damian
When breaking in to your school during the holidays, in order to steal, deface the headmasters office and generally add some excitement to another muggy summers day in a quiet market town - remember to cover your tracks.
Whatever you do, do not bury your swag of multi-coloured marker pens in the school ground under some leaves. Not underground - under a few fucking leaves.
I would also advise that you don't write your name all over the boxes in multi coloured felt-tip, in order to test them out.
When the stash was found, and the police were called, it was lucky they had Sherlock fucking Holmes on their team. It didn't take him long to figure out the culprit, and I was consigned to three days suspension, which let me catch up on some serious Let's Go Maths!.
approved Sep 29 2004, submitted Mar 22 2004 by Alex Finch
My primary school had a lesbian for a headteacher, who was seeing the deputy headteacher, also a lesbian. Another teacher, Paul 'Pogo' Patterson was gay, and used to frequent local gay club Ruby's. Whether this club existed or not, I have yet to figure out.

I shit you not.
approved Mar 10 2003, submitted Mar 9 2003 by Alistair Gray
Brenton Stanton smelled, and he had a head the same shape as a small bucket; but he never cried if he fell over. He had a brother called Royson who also smelled but who grew up to father four children who didn't. Despite his strange name no one picked on him because he had a real leather football and his father looked like Ian Brady.
approved Feb 2 2004, submitted Jan 12 2004 by Bob McBride
Surname sounds like a Cockney pronunciation of the worst word. Saying "Brian" before "Cunt" therefore affords you some protection from punishment. Although you should rightfully get punched for talking like a Cockney.


approved Dec 4 2003, submitted Nov 20 2003 by Conor Franklin
But Chakka Khan.
approved Jan 5 2004, submitted Dec 23 2003 by Andy Mansh
Put someone you know's name on the front of this highly amusing song. For this example, I have used the name Richard. It is sung to the tune of Knick-Knack Paddy-Whack. "Richard's gay, Richard's gay, Richard's name is Brian May" Works equally well with Darren Day (my own variant).
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dan Wakely
Brian became a man of legend while we were on a school trip, and he deciced to moon another group of boys across the hall. He dropped his trousers, bent over and we all saw an inexplicably hairy arse and bulging scrotum.
Far from receiving the hero's cheer that would normally meet such an act of derring-do, we edged away from him, and couldn't meet his eyes for the rest of the day.
Why would it be hairy? Why would that happen? Hair on the arse would just get... covered in shit... why would the body do that?
approved Sep 26 2005, submitted Aug 9 2005 by Steven Johnston