The Law of the Playground
the letter g
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"I do not believe you". Also, "Go 'ave a wank wiv yer dad."
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dan Wakely
Another pithy annoyance (also see nothing) that everyone said for a week. This is the general format; "Would you like a crisp?" (packet offered) "Ooh, ta." "Go buy one." (packet casually withdrawn) I used the phrase myself, oblivious that it had gone out with the dinosaurs just moments before. The shame was unbearable.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Ben Austwick
One would shout this, extremely loudly at passing wasps. If they flew away, one would assume they had in fact gone home to fuck their mothers.
approved Sep 23 2003, submitted Aug 14 2003 by griff .
Three boys can effectively block a twisting staircase leading to the upstairs classrooms just as lessons resume after lunch. Congestion of M25 proportions ensues amidst chants of "goooo sloooowwww!" from all and sundry.
approved Jan 25 2003, submitted Jan 21 2003 by Rob Scott
Nothing to do with Spectrums, but a basic, more edgy version of those rubbish Choose Your Own Adventure books your mum got. How 'Go to' worked was, in your Tricolore / History Now! / Whatever textbook, some benevolent genius would have written 'go to page 15' . Then on page 15, they would have written 'go to page 168', and so on, repeating the process, taking you on a thrilling journey through the text book, back and forth, hither and yon, always aware that you could be busted by the teacher at any time for being on the wrong page. At the end of the journey, the connisseur would have lead you to a fine rendering of a spunking cock or simply the words "Gayers flick through books."
The crap 'Go-to' er will merely direct you back to the first page number you started on, making the less obeservant participant go round and round in a circle, although this, to me, was a mark of cuntishness.
approved Dec 13 2002, submitted Dec 13 2002 by Susan Tobacco
The Goat of Mendes signed up for five-a-side football, according to the sign up sheet I posted on the school sports notice board.

He didn't show up for training, presumably due to the lengthy commute from Hell and lack of available football boots for cloven hooves.
approved Nov 25 2003, submitted Nov 7 2003 by Conor Franklin
The third entry in The Goat series sees Mr Worth bent over helping a kid with some trigonometry problem, while Paul Allen comically pretends to jab him in the arse with the point of his compass... until David Smith shoves Allen hard in the back and the compass connects sharply with the maths teacher's backside. Even if he shaved off his facial hair, Mr Worth would have been forever known as The Goat simply from the noises that ensued.
approved Jan 18 2003, submitted Dec 27 2002 by Phil Glansvile
With the kind of pretention born of being a selective school in the middle of a shithole, my school insisted that pupils write only using fountain pens. Our revenge for having to use these archaic devices was to flick wet ink trails up the back of Mr Worth's jacket when he bent down to help the kid in front. When the poor bastard switched from his blue-streaked grey jacket to a new navy blue one, we switched to black ink.
approved Jan 18 2003, submitted Dec 27 2002 by Phil Glansvile
During lessons or lunch break in the canteen, someone may shout "Goat Cheese". As a matter of fierce pride all the lads in the room have to stop whatever they're doing, rest their chins upon the table and then, by wiggling it, "walk" their chin across the table. The first person to acheive this feat would get a round of applause before carrying on as normal. Given the amiably harmless futility of this exercise, the punishment for not taking part is unusually extreme.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by The Butler
Maths teacher Mr Worth (nicknamed 'The Goat' as a result of his ridiculous 'beard but no moustache' facial hair) once enjoyed giving the class a severe bollocking so much that he appeared to develop a *very small* erection. This inevitably led us to the conclusion that The Goat's Plod was a gigantic worm like creature that would chase fourth formers around the quad. Fortunately the Plod could only move at a slow speed so if you stayed on your guard it was usually possible to avoid it until some other poor fellow became the object of its attentions. And how do you notify one of your peers that the Plod has set its sights on them? With this simple exchange: "It's after you." "What is?" "The Goat's Plod." The colour naturally drains from the victim's face, and they immediately become hyper-sensitive to peripheral noise and motion. And who could blame them -- not many boys would enjoy being buggered by a maths teacher's gigantic rogue penis.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Phil Glansvile
Walk up to victim. Stand toe to toe, then tell him you're about to play a practical joke. Reassure him it won't hurt. First, pretend to examine the top of his head. Then examine his eyes, look up his nose, then gently pull both his ears out. Then ask the victim to open his mouth. Unnerved, he will comply. Then gob the huge great greenie you coughed up earlier into his mouth. And run like fuck.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Simon H
Robert Birrell was an excitable child of short stature with twiglet legs and a tendency to cry easily under pressure. His wholesale lameness worked in his favour, in that it placed him outside the radar of even the most desperate bullies.

Until the day that teacher Miss Belcastro decided to make a big thing of his birthday. She called him out to the front of the class, stood him in front of the blackboard and said "Now everybody, today is a very special day. Today... is... Robert's... birthday!!!"

It was all too much for Robert Birrell. Overcome by the emotion of the moment, on the word "birthday" he leaned forward and projectile vomited.

This of course catapulted him instantly to playground stardom, especially when Alan Blackwood started calling him "Gobbert" in reference to the chunky, spattering sound he'd made during the spew. Within a short time it became customary, upon seeing Gobbert, to yell GOBBERT!!! and punch him hard in the stomach.

No-one said playground stardom was easy or painless.
approved Nov 10 2011, submitted Nov 10 2011 by anonymous user
A vivid enough description of fellatio. "Did she gobble you off?" is always to be answered with 'yes', despite the truth; "Girls scare me. I wet myself."
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Juan
Not wearing pants. Freeing willy. Residing in an unfurnished basement.
There is no point going commando unless:
a) You tell everyone, or
b) you're a buff chick with ripped jeans and not too hairy a bumhole.
approved Sep 5 2003, submitted Aug 14 2003 by griff .
Find the lyrics and a downloadable theme tune for this gem of a programme here:
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Thanks To
This routine is directed at the fat kid in a group. One or more (it was better if it was more) would start running around him in circles - "Help, I'm trapped in your gravity field! I'm going into orbit!" The game would continue until you were all stuck to the planet.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Alan , AU
Wayne Lee's unfathomably vicious dog Sooty went "to live on a farm where they can look after him and he'll be happy" after an unprovoked attack on another child. Wayne really believed that somewhere, somehow, someplace, there was a dog's shangri-la which had a limitless demand for uncontrollable mongrels, in which Sooty would get to live out his days chasing rabbits and dozing in front of the fire by the feet of the kindly old farmer's wife.

I will never forget the look of confusion and shock on his face when I convinced him the truth was rather less prosaic: injected, stuffed in a plastic sack marked "Organic Waste - Biohazard" and lobbed in a dumpster round the back of the vets all inside ten minutes.
approved Mar 16 2004, submitted Mar 13 2004 by Victor Papanek
If Dunnies (see Green Flash) are the Aldi of trainers, Gola are the Lidl. Slightly better, simply because they sell cheap red bull with "nearly Taurine" chemical "Taurin" in it. Other than that, unacceptable. Trainers.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Craig Scarratt, Jon Blyth
There used to be a lad in our year who I think was called Nick Brown. He was fat and therefore didn't have many friends and was a bit of a loner. Obviously this singled him out to the more cliquey kids in the year, and especially so in games. On day, after we had all returned from the bogtrot and were towelling ourselves down, one of the more popular kids was doing a walk-through attack on the nerd-section of the changing room. When he got to Nick he cried out; "Eugh! Look everyone! Nick Brown's got skids in his pants!" To which poor Nick replied: "Shut up! My dad says they're called Gold Watches and they're good luck!" Poor fucker. I bet every kid in that games room remembers that.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Robsa Walker
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by the Golden Cockerel Hymn Book, on the cover of which was a photo of a few kids singing merrily and holding copies of the Golden Cockerel Hymn Book, on the cover of which was a photo of a few kids singing merrily and holding copies of the Golden Cockerel Hymn Book.
approved Sep 24 2003, submitted Feb 13 2003 by shaun andover
Some entirely too-clever-for-their-own-good mathematicians have mapped this phenomenon as it appears elsewhere, notably in the works of M.C. Escher and Droste chocolate boxes.

Don't miss the truly disturbing video demonstration of said infinite regress. Enough to make one swear off quoting Ginsberg forever, it is.
approved Sep 23 2003, submitted Sep 18 2003 by Paul Denton
I had a maths teacher who wore a t-shirt with a picture of a t-shirt on it, and that pictured t-shirt had a picture of a t-shirt on, and so on.
Pupils who had seen the Twilight Zone lived in constant fear of turning their head around quickly enough to see a huge version of themselves looking down at them.
approved Sep 25 2003, submitted Sep 24 2003 by anonymous user