The Law of the Playground
the letter f
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The sound omitted from Mrs Tulley's mouth when Iain Lenton bit her on the neck in 1986, a year in which he thought he was a vampire.
She shouted 'fuck' quite clearly then added 'shun' on the end in a meaningless attempt to disguise what she said. Rumours went around for six weeks that she was being sent to teach in the Congo.
approved Mar 7 2003, submitted Mar 7 2003 by anonymous user
Despite the relegation of this term to the realms of vulgarity over the course of the twentieth century, it still retains some of the older notions of affection and only faint disdain in some parts of the country. An example;
One : Katrina of Katrina and the Waves fame deserves a big gash on her face.
Two : Why?
One : Because she is such a fucker!
Upon moving to another region of the UK, much hilarity can result from the cultural misunderstandings such a term can cause.
approved Dec 3 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dan Knox
I don't get it either.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Single use rallying cry employed by Phillip Bales, class spaz, upon being elected to lead the cross country group. When our PE teacher pointed to Bales, he celebrated his inauguration by shouting "Follow me, you Fucker-Mothers!" and then running off down the field. Even the teacher smiled at Bales' inability to get the words Mother and Fucker in the right order.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Martin Casterton
A rude expression of disbelief at the previous statement. Also the practice of fucking a girl, called Ada, who would be very old and nasty.
A conceivable conversation;
"Where's Peter?"
"Fucking Ada."
"Fucking Ada? Fucking Ada!"
approved Dec 11 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Shamim Cortazzi
I don't know if dabs exist anywhere else in the world, but in Feniscowles in Blackburn, they were slices of huge baking potato dipped in batter and fried. At 10p each, they were an extremely cheap, tasty and unhealthy meal for a growing child.
Paul H., our school's most prolific and robotic swearer, simply could not order a dab without referring to it as a "fucking dab". In everyday life, some nouns would escape the fucking prefix. But never dabs. Perhaps he just thought dabs was too short a word to make sense on its own - perhaps he just fucking hated the fucking dabs.
Briefly, the school grounds became 'The Place of the Eighteen Fuckings', when Paul H was hit across the back of his legs by his best friend, and managed eighteen uninterrupted fuckings before another word broke the flow. I think this has never been beaten anywhere else in the world.
approved Dec 16 2004, submitted Nov 26 2004 by anonymous user
Robert Watson's eloquent yet practical description of hateful Maths teacher Mr. Pickrell's balding head:

"I give up, it's like talking to a wall."

"Yeah, and this is like talking to a fucking egg."

The sneering bastard was so taken aback he couldn't think of anything to do but turn around and carry on with the lesson, whereupon we resumed the quiet, character-building ritual of taking turns spitting into his briefcase.
approved Dec 20 2002, submitted Dec 19 2002 by Leigh L.
An achingly clever responce to anyone saying fucking hell is to reply;
"Why fuck in hell, when there're beds in heaven?"
You may also stab someone with a fork and shout "fork you!". Either way, you deserve a klcking.
approved Jan 21 2004, submitted Jan 20 2004 by James Cunningham
As an ardent Derby supporter, James once professed his admiration for their star striker with the phrase "I love fucking Wanchope." His broad midlands dialect led to the bastardisation of the Spanish 'Wan-Chop-Ay' into the simple 'Onechop'.

After weeks of being reminded of this, James threatened to "fucking kill" us with his "fucking gun". Presumably the same gun he used to fuck Onechop.
approved May 23 2005, submitted May 23 2005 by The Boy Tucker
It was meant to say Buckingham road, but we had tippex. Still makes me laugh when i go past it.
(Been to Manchester? In the hilarious fashion of Terry Pratchett's discworld pub, the Broken Drum / Mended Drum, the sign Canal Street is on a constant cycle of being changed to anal treet and then being fixed by the council, who roll their eyes at the gays, who've "done it again". By the way, I hate Terry Pratchett, don't get me fucking started on Terry Pratchett. - Log)
approved Nov 7 2003, submitted Nov 6 2003 by griff .
In a similar vein to (C)anal (S)treet, I lived near a lane called Pollock's Path, with bredictably hilarious results.
approved Dec 29 2003, submitted Nov 21 2003 by Matt Fasham
Saw something similar in Sydney on a train. What had oringinally said, "At night travel near the guards compartment marked with a blue light." Had been altered using Tipp-Ex to read, "At night rave near the guards compartment naked with a blue light." I thought this quite witty for a nation of blokes who play sport in hot pants.
approved Feb 6 2004, submitted Nov 26 2003 by Kettle Fish
Near my home is a road called Penns Close. Some time in the 70s, when I was a child, its sign was amended with white paint to Penis Close. This gave us a laugh for, Christ, about 20 years, until the sign was eventually repainted by the council. Shortly after, some clever sod tried to return it to its former state. However, declining educational standards being what they are, they managed to change it to Peins Close. The twats.
approved Jun 13 2005, submitted Jan 2 2004 by The Baron
Meadowbank station (in Sydney) used to change their signs on quite a regular basis. They seem to have given up these days.

"Please vacate this seat for elderly or disabled passengers" can also be made into "Please eat elderly or disabled passengers", with hilarious consequences.
approved Jun 13 2005, submitted Jun 4 2005 by Pogglesnatch
The road signs pointing to the village of APSE HEATH on the Isle of Wight can easily be corrected using one piece of black electrical tape.
The county council doesn't think it's funny, but they're wrong.
approved Jun 14 2005, submitted Jun 14 2005 by anonymous user
According to my Grandad, changing the sign from the nearby "Potten End" to "Rotten End" had been done every year, by local schoolboys, for the last 70 years.
approved Jul 26 2005, submitted Jun 20 2005 by Nick Kent
Unusually-shaped signs have been specially designed for the River Uck so as to provide no quarter to schoolboys with pen or paint in their hands and a gigantic letter 'F' in their heads.

However, the ever-so-diligent local council failed to recognise that the smutty minds of their schoolkids are not so easily thwarted; our roving reporter provided this photograph of a nearby town sign which shows that they still have some way to go before they can entirely eradicate filth from the streets of East Sussex.







approved Jul 11 2005, submitted Jul 5 2005 by anonymous user, Matt Fasham, Ponky Ponk
St. Martin's School, Brentford, has been recognised as a National Beacon School of Excellence, an accolade awarded to fewer than 1% of schools in the whole country.

Naturally, the school wanted to trumpet this achievement, so they duly erected a sign outside the school proudly proclaiming its new status.

Naturally, we investigated this new sign, and by dint of removing some of the letters, we produced this:

St. Martin's Anal Bacon of Excellence

Less than 1% of the pupils in the country would have thought of that.
approved Jul 14 2005, submitted Jul 13 2005 by Name Withheld
In St. Martin's school there was also a sign concerning the directions to the Swimming Poo.

So simple, and yet so effective.
approved Jul 25 2005, submitted Jul 14 2005 by Bionic Sheep
For some reason, Birmingham city planners did not see the potential headache in naming a road "Dogpool Lane".
I think the people who fix roadsigns have admitted defeat, because the same bad white paint job over the 'l' has been in existence for the two years I've lived here.
Everyone I know just refers to it as Dogpoo Lane. When I'm on the bus, I like to ring my boyfriend and say "I'm at Dogpoo Lane now, put the kettle on, I'll be home soon."
And do you know what? Nobody on the bus even smirks. Because I bet they all call it Dogpoo Lane too.
approved Aug 15 2005, submitted Aug 14 2005 by rachy tomlinson
The village of Shilbottle in Northumberland was regularly... oh surely you all get the point by now - Phil
approved Aug 31 2005, submitted Aug 30 2005 by Adam Fraiwald
Coming from Croydon, the "wittiest" (and only) roadname change came in the form of Compton road, which some brainbox renamed Oompton (well done, lads). However, one of the local pubs got attacked by drunks one night, and the following morning "The Leslie Arms" had it's removeable letters rearranged into "Shit Arse".

Puerile and slightly anti-corporate readers may also have noticed that the letters of Starbuck's Coffee can similarly be rearranged to spell "Best Of Arse Fuck". I'm not saying anyone should steal into Luton town centre at 3:30 in the morning and do this, but if anyone did, I'd suck their balls for a year - Log
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Sep 18 2005 by anonymous user
When the front of your textbook has a label for your name, and the bottom of the label has a decree from the headmaster to treat it well, you must scrub out the "e", "d" and "a". This will serve as a warning to future pupils, that if they speednob or dog-ear the pages, they will incur the furry fury of Nigel Gilpin, Hamster.

approved Nov 2 2005, submitted Nov 1 2005 by Andy Smith
Ok; I'd left school and it was during my law degree at the University of Helsinki.
But I was still appropriately immature enough to be thrilled when their student housing office presented me with the keys to the studio apartment at 14/6 Piispantie.
approved Oct 28 2006, submitted Oct 23 2006 by Kaye Cornell
We loved the film Aliens. In fact we loved it so much we constantly tried to emulate the scene where Bishop the android did that trick with the knife, rapidly sticking it between his fingers.nnUnfortunately, our school workshops didn't have a wide variety of knives, but displaying schoolboy ingenuity we improvised with chisels. Of course we only used very narrow chisels.nnPaul Hopkins, on the other hand (a very large, hairy boy who wasn't allowed to drink orange juice) decided to attempt this death defying feet with a 1 inch chisel instead. With a booming cry of "I can do that!", he promptly slammed the pointy end of the chisel through most of his finger and into the table top, creating a spray of thick blood that reached all the way to the gang of girls at the next table. The wierd thing was, they made more noise than Paul did.nnThis is the same large hairy boy who decided to slap me on the back so hard that I nearly embedded my head in a table. Fortunately, the table was saved by the pencil that I was using (rubber end down) to correct a minor mistake, while the pointy end made contact with the back of my sinuses. Apparently, half an inch more and I would have been in mortal peril. Of course, we all had a good laugh about it the next week when I returned - and Paul affectionately dubbed me "Pencil Face" as a constant reminder of his valiant effort to kill me dead with my own writing implement.nnYou'd think this would be enough, but no... you see, Paul had a new level of dimwittedness hardwired into his brain - some kind of reverse step of evolution, perhaps. Which is why he also managed to hand in his GCSE Design and Technology project in a large plastic folder which he also used to conceal his pornographic magazine collection. Without removing three copies of Razzle, a Fiesta Shaven Havens special, and a rather bizarre magazine called Animal 7 that he claimed he found in a hedge.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Paddy
The tax levied by my enormous friend Glenn of one fudge bar every day. This tax was only incurred by people who had threatened/bullied me in the past, and thus the taste of Cadbury's fudge remains today the sweet, sweet taste of victory and revenge over Dale Wright.
approved Jan 18 2003, submitted Jan 15 2003 by Peter Marshall
Reworking of the classic Fudge advert jingle.
A finger of Fudge is just enough
Until it's time to eat
A finger of Fudge is just enough
To give your kids false teeth
It's full of Cadbury's concrete
And very hard to eat...

Wholly innacurate, as a finger of Fudge left in a bag all morning often acquired the soft texture of a freshly laid dog's plop.
approved Aug 1 2005, submitted Jul 22 2005 by Jay Dubya
A finger and fuck,
Is just enough
To give a girl a treat.

Obviously.
approved Aug 18 2005, submitted Aug 17 2005 by Nick Platt
Please learn from the mistake I made when I decided to deride a team-mate who had fumbled a very easy pass with Sgt. Hartman's most evocative quote:
"I bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the Goddamned common courtesy to give him a reach around."
Whilst I basked in the waves of appreciation from my team-mates, the referee (who also happened to be our head of year and best friend of my uncle), heard every word and looked thoroughly shocked. He metered out the most hideous, thoroughy despicable punishment known to man.
He told my mum. Word for word.
approved Nov 15 2005, submitted Nov 11 2005 by Tim Moss
(A decent post elevated by a fantastic physics pun. Marvellous.)

Sharpen a graphite pencil at both ends, then clip the power supply connectors to the exposed lead. The graphite core becomes searingly hot - and stays so for ages. Then leave out for the bullying tart who belittled your knowledge of physics as being "swotty" and watch the blisters form on her chubby little fingers when she (as usual) helps herself to your writing tools. Resistors aren't futile!
approved Aug 22 2003, submitted Aug 4 2003 by Emma Anon
Fung Chow was a peace-loving Vietnamese village, made out of paper by Nick Ruck. The attention to detail was magnificent - there were little bits of ripped-up paper to represent huts and villagers and everything.
Then the welding-torch helicopters came. Manned by Nick Ruck, who shouted an off-key Ride of the Valkyries, the helicopters left no surviving paper villagers, or huts. Nick Ruck stopped shouting Wagner to scream in a slightly foreign accent.
Mr Ashworth - our metalwork teacher - looked visibly shaken when he arrived at the scene, and may well be the last case of post-traumatic stress disorder caused by the Vietnam war.
approved Apr 12 2005, submitted May 11 2004 by Tony Green
The alarmingly camp or disturbingly sinister naming of furniture. Camp names, such as Philamena the Filing Cabinet, or Ollie the overhead projector, will lead to sneering disdain. Sinister names, like Fru-Fru the Board Rubber, will generally lead to glances being exchanged and confused shrugs.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dan Wakely
A furtive fondle. A form of intimacy popular amongst turtles.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
A well-known game where people say fuzzy duck in a circle, until someone says does he?, after which people must say "ducky fuzz". The idea being that you get free swears, most often does he fuck, or fuck he does.
At a certain age, alcohol is added to this game to make it seem less, well, rubbish.

Sorry, it makes it more rubbish. By the time you can get hold of booze, you should be able to say 'fuck' whenever you like. and the illicit thrill goes out the game, so it is just some men saying 'fuck' to each other. Like this website really.
approved May 16 2003, submitted Feb 24 2003 by Si Field