The Law of the Playground
the letter f
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An amusing way to spend a physics class. We all had to sit in the lab on stools that had small cushions on. These cushions were fastened to the stools with elastic, and they could be removed. In a moment of pure genius, one boy farted while sitting down, then got up, picked the cushion off the chair, walked behind the unpopular boy, and held the cushion to his face. This was the birth of the first fart transporting mechanism, and amused everyone for the remainder of the term.

And come on, who hasn't farted onto something and then smelt it out of curiosity?
approved Jul 24 2003, submitted Jul 13 2003 by anonymous user
In lieu of "Whoever smelt it..." debates, the chin defense could be used.
Once the scent of a bumtrump had been smelt then a clenched fist was attached to the chin. The last person to complete this action was identified as the fart culprit.
Of course, normally the first person to perform the chin defense tended to be the person who had farted - well aware of what they had just done and keen to escape the blame - and the loser tended to be anyone who had a bunged up nose or was too absorbed in colouring in the countries of Europe to follow the chinning trend.
This practice also evolved into double chinning, where the second hand should be placed below the first. Ultimately one would look rather like a Pharoah with one of those chin ornaments on - perhaps in his ancient regality a Pharoah was recognised as being incapable of letting off. I'm not sure, we did the Ancient Greeks instead of the Egyptians.
approved Oct 6 2003, submitted Oct 5 2003 by Robin Taylor
In my early school days we had a quite famous rhyme:
"Winnetou der Weise spricht:
Laute Forze stinken nicht,
aber die leisen,
die um das Arschloch kreisen,
vor ihnen hte dich,
denn sie stinken frchterlich"

For the non-german-speaking, here is a rough translation:
"Winnetou the wise says:
Loud farts don't stink,
but beware of the silent ones,
that circle around the arsehole,
for they smell terrible."

Winnetou was a native-american character from the popular cowboy and indian stories written by Karl May.
approved Apr 24 2005, submitted Oct 2 2003 by anonymous user
I heard this when I was eight. OK, so it's not German. Like I care.

There's a ball of wind
It goes to your heart
It travels down your backbone
and turns into a fart.
a fart is very useful
it gives you lots of ease
it warms the bed at night time,
and suffocates the fleas.
approved Sep 30 2007, submitted Jan 29 2007 by anonymous user
Back when I was at school - and right up to this very day - there is a rule of begging forgiveness for a flatulent outburst.

Trump - excuse me
Burp - pardon me

I still look at people askance if they get this wrong. Come on - its not fucking difficult.

Log says:
If you do find it difficult to remember, simply follow this rhyme. "Excuse me poos" (because farts and poos are the solid and gaseous states of faecal matter)and "Pardon your hard-on". For this second phrase, you need to imagine that you have just burped onto a man's erection. If you don't want to imagine burping onto a man's nice erection, try "pardon my lardon", and imagine that you have burped up a bit of bacon into a priest's beard. Actually, this one makes more sense. Forget about the dicks.
approved Oct 31 2011, submitted Oct 29 2011 by Captain Crackerjack
Setting Up : The two combatants would sit beside each other. Behind them would sit the Referee and his assistant.
Duration : A match lasted for a whole lesson. On good days, this can lead to some impressive scorelines and the opening of all windows. Scoring : One goal was awarded for each fart (farts had to be reasonably spaced - a quick follow up was regarded as a celebratory boot into the back of the net).
Fouls : Any 'fake' fart, whether intended or not, resulted in a penalty. A fake fart could be the players chair squeaking on the floor, usually followed by the player dramatically protesting his innocence to the ref, or a sinister 'professional foul' kind of fart, executed by the mouth. Or sometimes, while a striker was 'lining up for a shot' but having difficulty 'choosing his spot', he might unintentionally let out a groan or some other verbal effort. These would all result in a penalty.
Penalties : A penalty was taken by impersonating a fart. Easy, either by cupping the hand under the armpit, which resulted in a bit of a top corner net buster, or issuing a simple verbal 'prrrp' through a rattling, curled top lip, which was more of a simple tap-in, with the keeper going the wrong way.
Coaching : As the final approached unscrupulous 'agents' would try to sell their coaching services, which usually involved little more than them forcing you to get mushy peas with your bag of chips at lunchtime.
Rab Sutherland went on to win this in a tense and pungent final in geography, during which the teacher threatened to abandon the match at several points.
approved Feb 14 2003, submitted Jan 30 2003 by Diving Bastard
Quite simply, the act of firmly cupping one hand in the bumcleft in synchronitity with a boff, and then rapidly arcing the arm around in an economical sideways/forward/upward motion in order to give direction and purpose to the otherwise diffuse fart-gas. Best directed towards a classmate's face.
With reference to prog-rockers Curved Air who stank and got in your face, or something.
approved Nov 7 2003, submitted Nov 7 2003 by Smiler Smilesy
The sixth category of skills on our Career form was headed F. Artistic.

This was the section where we could get the low-down on jobs such as 'trombone imitator', 'baked bean tester', and 'flatulence critic'.
approved Aug 8 2005, submitted Jul 24 2005 by Name Withheld
This is true of all ages. In younger years, a finely rounded fart in assembly is absolutely hilarious. No-one can deny this. In later years, when applying for a late licence in the magistrates' court, a similar enhancement occurs. I can promise you.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth, Chris Laity
Holding in a fart can yield great rewards if you release after a key phrase. For instance, after a scene in Star Wars where someone asked someone else to put a trace on a spaceship, I dropped cargo and declared "put a trace on that". Bravo, me.

You won't have to wait long. It's quite easy.

How do you do?
Much better now, thanks.

What time is it?
Too farty.

Calm down Jeffrey, he wasn't talking to you.

This last one works best if you're known for having an anus called Jeffrey
approved Dec 3 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Also appropriate after certain demands, i.e 'Quick, press my nose', or 'Quick, pull my finger'. 'Quick' is imperative, to avoid clenching and possible follow-through on release.
approved Mar 7 2003, submitted Feb 21 2003 by Dinner Dance
The accepted linguistic term for fart so perfectly-timed that it lends emphasis or meaning to the surrounding context is pumptuation.
approved Oct 23 2011, submitted Oct 22 2011 by Stuart Laidler
The monicker of a child in our year who, ironically, was really boring.
We also made up a character called manij (pronounced manooj) who was entirely fictional and unrelated but just happened to be identical to manoj. Manij died.
approved Sep 9 2003, submitted Aug 14 2003 by griff .
Rupert was in the year below, and was quite simply the fattest child aged 15 that anyone in the area had ever seen in their lives. He may as well have had his inhaler strapped to his face while a drip kept the fluids coming.
There are several, but by far the best Rupert story is on a day when everyone in the 5th year had Science in the classrooms that overlooked the school playing fields. The 4th years were doing 100m on an outrageously bumpy stretch of grass, and so as to emphasise their inferiority and fatness in proportion to slender sporty-ish types, the crap fat asthmatic kids were bundled together in the last race.
At that moment the science teacher could have stopped class on the spot and put a porn video on, and everyone in the entire wing would still have been focussed on the sight of Rupert trying to get into the "set" position with the blood from his arse rapidly draining into his head.
As soon as the gun went, the slightly better crap kids shuffled away at relatively laughable speed, but Rupert took an age to even leave the ground. By the time he was upright, it looked like he was beginning to lose his balance.
Incredibly, he started to fall at about the 10m point, and was still falling about 50m further on. Eventually the inevitable happened, and he sprawled in suicidal parachutist fashion onto the grass. Minutes later, as the laughter started to die down, it was noticeable that he wasn't getting up.
15 motionless minutes later, a fucking ambulance arrived to tend to the crumpled mass of boy, and if that wasn't funny enough to everyone, the sight of the ambulance crew not being able to lift him off the floor was enough to convince even our Physics teacher that it genuinely was far more interesting than the fact that water will not fall out of a bucket if you swing it fast enough.
A second ambulance crew arrived, big Rupe was practically given a leg and a wing into the ambulance, and three weeks later everyone in the 5th year stopped laughing.
approved Dec 3 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Stuart Goodwin
This consisted of my friend and I linking arms and doing a sort of chorus-line kick while endlessly chanting "We're the Fat Brothers". I don't know why.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Poppy
Again, more popular than you may think. After getting the Guinness Book of Records for Christmas, me and my brother discovered that the heaviest man alive was called Danny Lambert, and we performed much the same dance whilst singing "Danny Lambert, Danny Lambert Oy Oy Oy".
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Fat Eddie used to get 3 for his dinner. In 1984.
approved Dec 21 2005, submitted Dec 20 2005 by Neal Glover
Andrew came to school, every single day, with a packet of digestive biscuits. What a fat cunt was the general feeling until his biscuits were stolen, Andrew became extremely ill, and the children of Charlton Primary had something called 'diabetes' explained to them by spittingly-furious headmaster.
approved Apr 3 2006, submitted Dec 26 2005 by Tony Green
I was fat myself, but luckily I was tall and looked stronger than I was. I mostly escaped taunting on the grounds of my weight - these people didn't.
The funniest fat boy in school's surname was pronounced Weight-Man. It took me a good while to realise that this wasn't a nickname. For his PE option, Weight-Man chose trampolining classes because they involved, potentially, no movement. Sadly, they didn't spare him from mockery, for three good reasons. He had incredibly hairy legs, the sight of him climbing onto the trampoline was a Mr Bean-style masterpiece, and during his turns on the trampoline, his feet never left the elastic. He would just use the initial tension of his climbing onto the trampoline to bob up and down until the teacher (increasingly angrily) told him to get off. This was probably a good thing, as none of us had any intention of trying to catch him if he tried to jump and fell off.
Then there was the ginger, huge one, cursed with the belief that no-one would take the piss out of him if he tried to be the jolly fat man. Trouble was, his jokes created an angry confusion, and a "who does he think he is?" ill-feeling. Went on to get a BSc and MSc, I'm told by an angry reader, although presumably not in Mirth and Merriment.
Finally, we had our year's only proper black girl, so it was a relief to our developing brains that she didn't break the Tom & Jerry Big-Momma stereotype. She always bought in a big pack of sweets. As far as I can recall, I was the only person she ever shared her sweets with, which led to some ridicule on my part, as a potential suitor. At the time, though, I was so careful not to seem racist, and more importantly, not to shy away from girls in case people correctly assumed that I was a fat gay, that I accepted her sweets and sat next to her in a class. Once.
approved Nov 29 2005, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
There was a fat kid in my school called Thomas Heavyside.
Brilliant. - Jamie.
approved Mar 25 2006, submitted Feb 2 2006 by James Cooper
There were two kids in our third year infants class called Stuart. To distinguish them in conversation we called the fat one Fat Stuart. To his face, mind, and he didn't care because he agreed that it was essential for unambiguous playground discourse.
approved Apr 26 2006, submitted Mar 28 2006 by Dave Chips
We were only having a laugh when we lined up to watch the class fatty launch himself onto the trampette in PE. They were just jokes, we didn't really think that his vast weight would tear through all the springs and smash the thing to bits.

That was what made it so funny, really.
approved Jun 5 2006, submitted Mar 29 2006 by anonymous user
I Nicknamed Paul Grant 'PG Tits' for being fat.
I hated him for the following reasons (which occured in this particular order);
1) At packed lunches he always patted his sandwiches like a beloved pet before eating them.
2) When he ate them he looked like a camel.
3) Having bragged about his supposed 12-speed racer for months, I eventually discovered it was in fact a 3-speed ladies fold-up bicycle.
4) When he fell off it at the bottom of the George St Brae and cut his head open, he told his mum it was my fault, as he'd pedalled away too fast in order to escape my taunts.
5) His mum attacked me with an umbrella outside school the next day.
6) The fat milksop actually bragged about this - thinking he'd done something brave by getting his mum onto me.
approved May 30 2006, submitted May 29 2006 by Paul Robinson
Howard tried to adopt the role of "the cute, cuddly one that the girls could confide in" but unfortunately for him, the rest of his classmates just saw him as a massive fat cunt.
approved Oct 12 2007, submitted Jun 6 2006 by George Byrne
This was a woman of monolithic proportions. Probably around 30 stone, I would guess, even with hindsight. She would waddle around the town with shopping bags full of tucker with which to stuff her ludicrously fat face. The popular legend became unnervingly real, however, when she appeared in our boarding house canteen and started squeezing between the tables. The poor woman had a child of indeterminate sex and age (best guess, female, 12) who was about thirteen stone and could also be seen shuffling up gentle hills.
Fat Momma had her own song.
Fat Momma's coming
She's coming to fuck you
She's so fucking fat
She's coming to fuck you
She's coming up the stairs
She's coming to fuck you
She's got dead sheep coming out of her cunt
She's coming to fuck you
She's coming into the room
She smells soooo bad
And she's pulling the dead sheep out of her cunt
And the tramps and the children (continue, adding awful things, ad infinitum)
out of her cunt
(shouted) She's fucking you!
She's fucking you!
She's fucking you!
She's fucking you!
approved Aug 21 2003, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Alex Marshall
"I was driving my car the other day, and your mum stepped out in front of me. By the time I swerved round her I'd run out of petrol."
Ignoring the fact that schoolkids rarely drive cars except in the wilder reaches of Liverpool, this is a good practical illustration of the vastness of someone's momma, and as such we can forgive a certain amount of poetic licence on the part of the perpetrator.
approved Apr 12 2005, submitted Nov 22 2004 by Gareth Thomas
There was a small Buddhist monastery across the road from my school, and at lunchtime we'd often see groups of monks walking down the street. Most of the monks were lean and lithe, but there was one monk who was, to put it mildly, a right fat bastard.

The monks made sculptures from butter, and it was generally accepted among the students at our school that the other monks only kept Fat Monk around because he would eat the sculptures they fucked up. A friend of mine wrote a haiku about him for English class:

Big fat Buddhist monk
Eats the bad butter sculptures
Human rubbish bin.
approved Jul 27 2005, submitted Jun 5 2005 by Hannah Peterson
The inevitable nickname of short, rotund, gurning English teacher Miss Fitzpatrick.
approved Nov 13 2005, submitted Nov 10 2005 by Ralph Burkett
We had a teacher in our school so fat that when she walked down the corridor, it was difficult to get past her. To ease the stress of one particularly bad episode of fat-teacher induced gridlock, a kid stood behind her, spread his arms out to the size of her arse (in a "I caught a fish and it was this big" manner) and triumphantly held the arse-sized arm stretch high in the air above her head for all to see.

Kids! Did you have a fat teacher? A purulent pedagogue? Tell us all about it - if they didn't want to be laughed at, they shouldn't have eaten all the pies.
approved Apr 18 2003, submitted Apr 3 2003 by Little Miss
Michael Spencer had to be the fattest teacher ever. Unfortunately there are no amusing incidents relating to his girth.
approved Sep 25 2003, submitted Sep 23 2003 by Phil Jeffcott
It is a mistake, when a fat teacher, to dress as a cow for Halloween.
approved Oct 1 2003, submitted Sep 25 2003 by Name Withheld
Ours was called Mr. Cheshire - he used to sleep through lessons until wakened by the 'ping' of his microwave. He always used to wear chains around his wrists - presumably to stop the flab dripping over the joint and preventing movement.
approved Jan 8 2004, submitted Nov 7 2003 by Blort Snart
Mrs. Waring required the double fire doors to be opened in order to progress from one corridor to the next. Fact.
(OMFG! That's one fat teacher, Robert Thebruce! That crazy fat bitch don't never be saying no to no motherfuckin' Big Macs! But did you have a fatter teacher? If so, exactly how fat was it? Was it like a mince-filled Hindenberg? Or perhaps it put you in mind of a scaled up bumble-bee, dripping sweat from its greedy bloated rear. We have to know the names and possibly even the addresses of every fat teacher there is.)
approved Oct 10 2004, submitted May 6 2004 by robert thebruce
Park High School in the '70s. Our music teacher was fat, and he was called Mr Tucker. We retired to the playground, had a twenty minute brainstorming session, in which it was proposed, and eventually agreed, that we should call him Mr Fat Fucker.
(Do re mi so fat you fat fuck! What a fucking fatso! Did anyone have a fat woodwork teacher? - Log)
approved Oct 13 2004, submitted Oct 12 2004 by uncle monty
Our fat teacher at primary school was Mrs Caligeerus. A name slightly too convoluted for some of our immature mouths leading to her being called Mrs Crocodile. Which might have been a pretty good insult, if we were Bengali.
(How does that relate to her behemothic monolithicness? More fatties please.)
approved Oct 14 2004, submitted Oct 13 2004 by anonymous user
Well, our music teacher was so fat and claimed a place in many childhood memories by having to be hauled undaintily to her feet by four of her colleagues, after falling down the two steps that led into the dining hall. Probably in a pudding rush, the fat cow.
(Fucking hell, that's two to an arm! I hope no-one took the legs; you don't want be giving this fat bitch the bumps! Not unless you want a journey to the centre of the motherfuckin' EARTH! I tell ya! Any more? Let's turn this site into Fat Chicks In Party Hats)
approved Oct 14 2004, submitted Oct 13 2004 by Mong Boy
The home economics teacher at our school was massive. Her name was Mrs Pelley. You can see this coming can't you? She was therefore known as Mrs Belly. Cos she was fat. See?
When you're that fat, do your farts ever get out of your body? I mean, if you're crawling up some really fat teacher's buttock-space to give them the love they crave, do you run the risk of relasing some long-forgotten farts? Farts embedded for years in the labyrinth of arse? It'd be like popping some shit-smeared bubble-wrap. JESUS, you fat teachers make me honk!
approved Nov 16 2004, submitted Oct 14 2004 by Name Withheld
Father Damian was the fattest teach-priest in the world. So much so that someone smeared the word FAT in mud on his clasroom window. This drove him to launch a plastic chair across the room in fat-handed rage.
(Have you said your prayers, Father Damian? What did you pray for? You say you prayed for a hill of butter? FAT PRIEST ALERT! Our father who art in heaven, seventeen chicken chow mein! Is there any other combination of FAT + something else we haven't done? Fat science dwarves? Anyone?)
approved Oct 21 2004, submitted Oct 15 2004 by Conor Franklin
At a school we used to play rugby against, one of the P.E. staff who refereed our games was so fat that he had to referee the entire game from the half way line.
Additionally, if he was knocked down he couldn't get up again. He'd thrash about briefly, like some gargantuan speaking tortoise enjoying a mudbath, before blowing the whistle and asking, plaintively, "help me boys, I can't get up".
(How can I get out of the mud? I know! I'll eat my way out! scronfscronfscronfscronfscronf! Oh no, I've eaten the entire mantle of the Earth! Why oh why was I cursed with my bigbones?)
approved Oct 21 2004, submitted Oct 15 2004 by anonymous user
Fat teachers should always choose to dress in floral ponchos made from curtains, and - and this is perfect - drive a Mini. Mine certainly did.
So when the beast shoves its ham-joints through the tiny doors, and wedges itself under the Polo Mint steering wheel, at least it has the excuse that it is a Mini.
(Did your fat teacher use any comedies of scale? Perhaps it would drink hot lard from a thimble, before hurling Rubik's Barrels down a network of girders. Was it a knowing joke, or simple, fat-headed obliviousness? Who knows what goes on, in... The Minds of the Fat.)
approved Oct 21 2004, submitted Oct 16 2004 by World Desk Reference
Just as an aside, and for those that haven't experienced the joys of fat teacher loving, google "fat teacher". Go on. And then click on one of the links. Maybe the "Student fuck his fat teacher" one. Even better - "FREE Fat teacher fucking and New York black porn!" one.
Whoo! That kicks off November's round of fat-teachers with a global flavour! I wonder what a fat geography teacher tastes of? Does he taste more like Geography, or a messy pile of bacon? Let's find out!
approved Dec 17 2004, submitted Oct 21 2004 by Nick Hunt
Norma Huges was a very fat pottery teacher. Norma wasn't the kind of lady to let her immense size dissuade her from wearing tight leggings.
She took her dog, Lance, for walks by holding his leash through the open window of her old Golf Polo whilst slowly driving around the school.
A phlegm-sodden scream meant that Lance had slipped her sausage grip. This would set off a chorus of imitation shrieks, resulting in a very confused dog and a very angry fat woman sweating in a metal box.
Lance! Look for food, Lance! If you don't find food, I shall eat the car! Then there will be no more walks! Now I am lying on the ground, Lance. Please take off my jaw and walk into my mouth, where I will start the laborious process of eating you. I wish food was easier to eat *FAT SIGH*
approved Apr 21 2005, submitted Oct 22 2004 by Slab Ghost
Miss Dagg was nothing short of twenty stone. A follower of the floral tent-dress fashion, she was incredibly miserable and perpetually angry. From the very first day, we just knew she was going to be a pushover - and we were right. She left the class crying every other lesson, "took a long holiday", then came back and so on and so forth, as we mercilessly ground her down.
Sports Day - A pupils versus teachers rounders match, and to our absolute disbelief, Dagg is lined up on the teacher team. She clearly thinks that this is her chance to get back at us.
Dagg is next to bat. Some geek kid bowls a feeble ball and THWACK. She strikes it straight over the fence and sets off around the bases. Starting slowly, she gradually gathers speed and by the time we have climbed over the fence and retrieved the ball, she is going like a fifteen-ton runaway truck down a hill, towards the last base and a "rounder".
She is nearly there as Stu Black throws the ball. The ball flies over her head and is caught by the boy at last base who immediately stumps her OUT. Dagg is still running, however. She cannot stop herself in time and smashes head-first into the six-foot solid metal pole that is serving as final base.
While she lay there unconscious, with her dress around her waist and bloomers on display, it became horrifically apparent that a wet piss patch was slowly forming around her pouch-like fanny. The seconds passed and we gradually slipped through the gears, from stunned silence into screaming laughter.
And as the teachers stood around this scene of carnage, the head of year was clearly heard to say, "If you think I'm watching THAT fat cunt while YOU lot go to the pub, you're SADLY mistaken".
approved Apr 29 2005, submitted Oct 29 2004 by Johnny Crotch
One of our Science teachers was a sweaty lard-arsed mammoth of a man called Mr Jones. To compound his unfortunate size, he also had a speech defect, rendering all 'r's as 'w's. One of his favourite sweaty fat phrases was "where is your wuler, you cwiminal?", which one of the sixth formers recorded with a dictaphone and sampled, creating a disturbing mid-90s rave masterpiece.

Mr Jones claimed to have had schoolboy trials for West Ham United. Presumably they didn't take him on because he was a gargantuan chair-worrier with a sweaty niff that could fell an ox at fifty paces.
approved Apr 12 2005, submitted Nov 7 2004 by Name Withheld
English teacher Mrs Richards was so fat that she:
  • Missed a lesson because she was stuck in an armchair in the staff room.
  • Had to have the doorway to her classroom widened.
  • Got stuck on a bus and had to be cut out with the fire brigade's "Jaws of Life".
The stories are all 100% guaranteed fatual.
approved Nov 27 2004, submitted Nov 24 2004 by Liz Clough
It didn't take much effort to come up with the perfect nickname to describe the cetacean size of maths teacher Wendy Hale.
approved Feb 14 2005, submitted Nov 30 2004 by Name Withheld
Mr. Roberts was the supply teacher who turned up when our normal teachers couldn't be arsed.

He looked like William Conrad in Cannon (A Quinn Martin Production), but without the moustache. Plus, he was bald too.

Best was when he had to take us for games. He'd make the pretence of refereeing a game of football or rugby for precisely two minutes, then stop us because we were 'doing it all wrong' and make us line up for some 'coaching', which, PURELY coincidentally, entailed him standing still for the rest of the lesson.
approved Apr 11 2005, submitted Dec 3 2004 by Bitching Pedant
Fat maths teachers should always avoid the analogy of an empty Toblerone box when describing the dimensions of a triangular prism to a class of cynical 13 year olds.
approved Apr 26 2005, submitted Apr 25 2005 by Kerry Franklin
In our school, we had a family of them.

Cooking was taught by Mrs Rudge
I.T. was taught by Mr Rudge
and they had a son, Robert Rudge.

Mr Rudge needed double doors opened to move around the school.

Can you guess what their nicknames were? That's right! Fudge!
approved Apr 29 2005, submitted Apr 27 2005 by Drab Green
Our Fat Teacher was also called Mr. Jones; he was so fat that his belly would rub against the board and rub off the writing underneath, which seemed to confuse him no end.
Also, to this day, there is a coffee stain on the ceiling above his desk from when he had a sudden heart attack and threw his cup into the air.
approved May 25 2005, submitted May 24 2005 by anonymous user
A chemistry teacher of ours nicknamed "Pauncho" (who has now passed on) was so fat, he used to drive his car to the part of the school that had the photocopier in.
approved Sep 30 2007, submitted Sep 8 2005 by Eager Dad Jnr
We had Mr Burbridge, known affectionately by the 6th form as "Fat Burbs". What made him stand out from the fatty hordes of fat teachers listed on this site was that he positively revelled in his size, once taking a bow on stage at the Christmas play whilst we all chanted "You Fat Bastard".
approved Nov 21 2005, submitted Oct 7 2005 by Andy Collings
Easy now; it's only the quarterly fat teacher update!

Gotty Gotty has written to let us know that he
"Had a female I.T. teacher who was so fat that she once took a week off and when she came back it was revealed she'd been to have a baby.
She was so fat that nine months pregnancy was total unreadable under her vast bulk."

Rast Clat says: "Our R.E teacher, Mrs Hart, was so huge that when writing on the blackboard she would rub everything off with her huge boobies as she went, which confused her no end. She would also wear a bright yellow dress in the summer which, not only made her look like a tennis ball, but was also see-through, much to the disgust of everyone who set eyes on the massive beast."

Finally, an anonymous user wrote to say "My school must have been unique in not having any truly massive teachers. Perhaps the stairways were too weak/narrow to support them."

Er, quick question, anonymous user: do you find that people often yawn right in your fucking face, you pointless twat?
approved Mar 30 2008, submitted Jan 28 2006 by Andy Mansh
We had a fucking huge dinner lady if that counts, nicknamed 'Sweaty Betty'. She was gargantuan - legs like melted candles and a six part tit/gut shape defined by her huge bra and unfeasably massive undercrackers - all packaged of course in bright highly flowered curtains that doubled as a dress. We found her tabard unattended once - the size label had been cut out but it was easily the size of a six-man tent.

She was so slow it would take her half of breaktime to cross the playground. However, we didn't dare arse about too much, as the rumours was that a few years previously one boy got sat on when eventually caught and he was still living in the rolls of fat, scavenging from the various partly eaten food items that dropped in.

She even gave her name to a playground game, where one person would wobble around pretending to be hugely fat, and the rest would try and 'pop' that person with an imaginary pin.

approved Sep 24 2006, submitted Apr 7 2006 by anonymous user
Mrs. Fenton (openly nicknamed "Jabba the Slut") was emboldened by the optimism that a bright sunny day can bring. Her mind full of possibilities, she walked out of a two-hour lesson around half-way through, and never returned.
approved Oct 15 2003, submitted Oct 15 2003 by anonymous user
[examples] Two subjects of a perpetually expanding song. The pattern of comedy would follow the Little and Large model, wherein Fatty would fart or do something amusing, and Thinny would either suffer, or not be involved. Thinny never got the laughs, and probably fantasised about Fatty's death in many different ways - if my understanding of murder motives is correct.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth, Jo Denham
A freindly version;
Fatty and Thinny were in the bath,
Fatty blew off and Thinny laughed.
And a recent ad lib by a friend;
Fatty and Thinny were in the hay,
Fatty blew off and Thinny was gay.
approved Dec 23 2002, submitted Dec 16 2002 by Harry Nice
Fatty and Thinny went to the loo,
Fatty did wee wee and Thinny did poo.
approved Feb 26 2003, submitted Feb 26 2003 by Rob Johnson
Fatty and Thinny went to the zoo,
Fatty liked monkeys and skinny did too.
approved Sep 25 2003, submitted Feb 26 2003 by Rob Johnson
Also refered to as Fatty & Skinny. This didn't really effect the meter or maturity of the rhymes, as this couplet demonstrates.
Fatty & Skinny went up in a rocket,
Fatty came down with shit in his pocket.
approved Apr 30 2003, submitted Mar 25 2003 by Marky Mark
And for the children whose brainpower was in constant battle with tartrazine-fuelled hyperactivity...
Fatty and thinny went on a hunt,
Fatty's a fat cunt and thinny's a fucking twat.
approved Apr 30 2003, submitted Mar 26 2003 by Rob Marsh