The Law of the Playground
the letter g
page 7 of 8
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The arrival of the spring/summer edition of this, or any other home shopping catalogue, was met with eager, sweaty palmed enthusiasm. Ladies underwear was always located towards the end of ladies outerwear, and just before menswear. Usually about 1/3 of the way through. Imagine our shame when, one afternoon, having bunked off early, my mates and I were discussing the new season's collection - "is that her fanny?" - "no, that's just a shadow" - "fanny?" - "nah, heavy gusset" - "fanny?" - "nope, shadow" only to turn the page and exhale in unison "now THAT's no shadow!!!" to the sound of his mother piping up from behind us "what's that then lads?", the sneaky cow had snuck in, and witnessed the whole sorry spectacle. We were 15.

READERS! Did YOU ever resort to unusual wank-fodder in your teen years?

Did you try and get off on a dirty limerick in a Nigel Rees graffiti compendium, or find yourself with nothing but a photo of a blood relative to "relieve" yourself to? Then we'd like to hear from you. Now.
approved Jul 26 2003, submitted Jul 10 2003 by Diving Bastard
The Brand New Monty Python Bok came with a slip off dust jacket that covered what was really printed on the book beneath - the cover for a spoof magazine called "Tits 'n Bums: A Weekly Look at Church Architecture". Not only was this a great gag but it did indeed feature a picture of thrillingly blobby 70's breasts (and bums). I would have wanked myself raw to it, if only I'd known how to.
Sadly I soon lost the slip on "safety" dust cover and had to cover the tits and bums with stickers from Smash Hits, lest my mum discovered my filthy shame.
approved Sep 8 2003, submitted Aug 12 2003 by Susan Tobacco
Regarding the Monty Python Bok - I also remember the 70's-style tits and bums on the hardback cover. However, I also seem to remember that the central part of the photo was the spottiest arse in world, which reduced the wanking potential of the photo considerably.
approved Sep 22 2003, submitted Sep 18 2003 by Matt Fasham
For YOU maybe, Matt. *Winks*
approved Sep 23 2003, submitted Sep 23 2003 by Susan Tobacco
Speaking of formative wanks, I once had a wank to the 'Pump up the Jam' video. It remains one of the best wanks I've ever had, although I honestly can't remember why. I want to see the video again, now.
approved Oct 18 2004, submitted Oct 13 2004 by Tony McTony
Julie Greaves suffered from a terrible skin complaint. This wasn't just a few patches of mild eczema; this was full-on, Singing Detective-esque, weeping psoriasis.
No-one would go near her as a result. If it snowed, it was attributed to Julie sneezing, and blowing off another layer of skin.
Girls in her netball class would drop the ball if she threw it to them, screaming "Greaves Disease", like some extreme form of "fleas". Cornflake cakes were avoided in the canteen - the cooks had obviously used the flakes piling up around Julie's chair. Rumour had it girls wouldn't use the toilet if they knew she'd been in there first, lest they caught her sickening condition from the toilet seat.
In short, instead of the compassion she so desperately craved, she was shunned as the leper she so evidently was.
I last saw Julie working as a barmaid in a local pub. 15 years had passed and still I could only just bring myself to pick up the pint she served me, and drank it only after rigorously checking the glass and contents for "bits". Judging by the looks of disgust on the faces of the other punters she served, they spent their evenings doing much the same.
approved Jul 23 2006, submitted Jul 4 2006 by Nick Hunt
I suffered from a form of Greaves Disease: not the flaky kind, just the sort of eczema that occasionally made huge clefts open in my hands, and made it impossible to grasp anything, or move my hands especially well. Oddly, I received precisely zero kickings because of this, but was consistently done off teachers for having shit writing and they always made me play the most elaborate instruments in music, and then I'd get done for there being all blood on them.
There wasn't even a backlash against my leprosy when 'The Singing Detective' was on. Probably because everyone was too busy wanking over the dirty bits. Which I couldn't fucking do because of my spack hands. Cunts.
approved Aug 11 2006, submitted Aug 10 2006 by rob smith
I also suffered from a form of Greaves disease, which in my case resulted mainly in the occurrence of great, seeping patches on my shins. To avoid any pisstaking, I would tell everyone that they were merely studmark injuries from playing football. Fortunately, no-one cottoned on to the fact that the closest I ever came to actually playing football was FIFA on the megadrive (Greaves disease permitting).
approved Sep 24 2006, submitted Sep 21 2006 by james morison
Mark Prenton spewed magnificently during a film showing. Upon questioning, he revealed that he'd eaten green crumpets for breakfast because "that's all there was" to eat.

approved Sep 22 2006, submitted Jun 26 2006 by Name Withheld
That's a terribly sad story, that Green Crumpets.
In my junior school we had a runty kid called Peter O'Neill who smelled of piss and who used to dry out the front of his trousers against the radiator.
One Christmas he got an orange. An orange. For fuck's sake.
approved Oct 7 2006, submitted Sep 27 2006 by henry the thirst
Our school had blue urinals. Thus, if you were standing next to someone you didn't like, you could accuse them of being the Green Wee Man. Reversy privilege prevented them from pointing out that your wee was green too. You may be called upon to piss in public - ostensibly to prove that your piss isn't green, but having the pleasing side effect of humiliation. Whether you fail or pass this test is down to the whim of your peers rather than any serious use of a colour chart.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dean A
The Year Book group were thinking of funny things that may happen in the future to individuals from school and society as a whole. A girl who came from Malaysia said "In the future, we will all carry hand grenades." She said it without even a trace of a smile.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Greg Dale
The Midland Bank's least kudos-bequeathing playground fashion accessory, which doubled as (someone else's) curling stone during icy winters.

In hindsight I wish there had been a branch of NatWest closer to home - those shitty pottery pigs they doled out go for a minty bundle nowadays.

approved Feb 15 2005, submitted Dec 9 2004 by s field
A word I was rewarded for knowing when I was nine. The thing is, I didn't really know what it meant. I just said "ooh, grimace" as an insult based on the McDonald's character. When the teacher asked me what 'grimace' meant, I sort of pulled a face, trying to imitate Grimace. This was right. My reward was to go to the front of the queue to get back into class, which in retrospect wasn't that hot a deal.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
The grog pit was a flight of stairs which went down into the cellar of the school at the far side of the play ground. The sport was to find any unattended school bag and with a loud chant of "Grog Pit" the bag was cast down the stairs.
The poor unfortunate owner of the bag then had to descend the stairs while a mass of crazed baboon-like children press against the railing around the top of the stairs to shower them with as many big green balls of spit and snot as possible before they returned to the surface.
If the victim was particularly hated - as most of them were - they were pushed back down the stairs for a second (and sometimes third) shower of phlegm.
In extreme cases - namely, Tony - the usual rule of throwing an unattended bag was circumvented, and the bag was ripped from the victim's arms.
approved Sep 17 2003, submitted Sep 10 2003 by Dak
Daniel Grossett was cursed with a lisp from birth. He was cursed with being short. He was cursed, some might say, with being one of only three black kids in the whole school.
Daniel Grossett was able to overcome his seeming handicaps by developing an incredibly violent temper, and would regularly administer swift and bloody beatings to would-be bullies.
Chief among his protagonists was Dale, another of the black kids, who was rewarded for his taunting by being stabbed in the head with a compass. They do say black on black crime is the most common. They're probably both in prison now.
approved Nov 12 2004, submitted Oct 21 2004 by Roger Yumum
Once a year our junior school headmaster would hand us all a small booklet of black and white photos. The booklet was full of happy little snaps of kids entitled "Sunny Smiles" and the idea was that we could sell our granny, extended family and neighbours one of the cute little shots - all the money going to children's charity. Trouble was, the smilers always looked to be having a better time than us and over night the booklets would be renamed "Grotty Grins." All those happy children now wore bad spectacles and shocking moustaches. I remember being smacked by a teacher who found my defaced copy of Grins. "How dare you scribble on the face of that abused child!" he shouted as he hit me again - which could only have been more ironic if he had been scribbling on my face as well punching it. Still, Granny bought a few from us and I have since become a highly skilled graffiti artist of some stature.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Fat Bob
When told to "just grow up" after an act of particularly childish misbehaviour a 13 year old Dennis stood on his chair and whilst making a kind of whooooosh - noise used hand gestures and miming to simulate pubic hair growing at a superhuman rate. He then began frowning and speaking in a comedic deep voice about 'Gardening, gardening gardening' and 'Overdraft, overdrafe, overdraft'. A fascinating take on the perception of adults by children which was completely lost on our teacher who marched him from the room while Dennis was in the middle of grumbling about interest rates.
approved Mar 30 2006, submitted Mar 20 2006 by Tony Green
One who runs around with shit encrusted shoes, with the intention of daubing someone else with it. The name applies to both the game and the prominent participant of the game.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Stephen Barker
Whilst in detention a group of boys can play "guess the hair", which is not really a game as much as... just putting pubes on each others books. There was no winner. Maybe we were all winners.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Ben Yeats
A : Guess what? B : What? A : Good guess. Priceless.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Craig Scarratt
Q. Guess What?
A. What?
Q. Hotpot.
Q. Guess Why
A. Why?
Q. Pork Pie.
On reflection I'm a little dissapointed that we never utilised when, where, how or who. Especially who, because that rhymes with poo.
approved Mar 14 2003, submitted Jan 23 2003 by anonymous user
Guess what?
approved Mar 31 2003, submitted Mar 3 2003 by R DL
- Guess what?
- What?
- Cold potato's ain't hot!!
- Oh.
- Hahahahahaa!
- Right.
approved Oct 5 2004, submitted Feb 26 2004 by Helen Jenkins
Guess what?
A bag of snot.
Guess why?
Snot pie.
Far from being simple rhyming snot nonsense, this translates as;
A : What's that you've got there? It smells delicious.
B : It's a bag of snot, actually.
A : Oh. Suddenly it doesn't smell so delicious. Why are you carrying a bag of snot around?
B : It's the main ingredient of snot pie.
A : Oh! That suddenly sounds delicious again.
B : Yes, strange how your perceptions change with context, isn't it?
approved Apr 23 2005, submitted Apr 12 2004 by Rikk Hill, Jon Blyth
To score a point in the Guff Game, you must comply with the following procedure:

Bellow "Witness! Witness!"
This is to let people know that you are on the verge of a potential guff. Witnesses will flock eagerly to your buttocks, crouching to properly appreciate the incoming guff.

You assembled team of witnesses will provide feedback on whether your guff meets the gruelling standards required for a point. If it's exceptionally noisy, or the smell makes someone gasp "fucking HELL", you're in.

No scores are kept, but success can be measured in the size of a crowd. If you shit yourself in someone's ear, your peers will not attend your anus so readily.
approved Feb 11 2013, submitted Dec 17 2012 by Mister S
Simon Cowan was a very tall very thin bloke, and as such was prone to unwarranted attacks. As a defence mechanism, he developed the guffy mong. This was a disconcerting fit, heavy on the spazzy flips and Tourette's Syndrome honking and barking. This would disconcert his assailants to the point where they'd simply leave him alone. Proving that even the most primitive societies have an innate respect for the insane.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Pol Sigerson
At primary school we would have little plastic beakers of squash at break time. One day, a girl decided to give the class pet guinea pig a drink by shoving it head first into her beaker. Unfortunately, a vacuum was immediately created, trapping the poor creature as the distraught teacher, surrounded by screaming six year olds, attempted to cut it free with child proof blunt plastic scissors. Needless to say, the girl in question had few friends for her ensuing primary school career.
approved Nov 7 2005, submitted Sep 27 2005 by anonymous user
Trying to laugh without making a noise is a misunderstood and difficult art, much like referees running backwards. It proved too much for five-year-old Richard Knightley, who, upon being told of the colour of Wendy Jones's pants, tried too hard to keep it in and emitted the kind of grunt rarely heard outside of a West Country swine pen.

The result was extraordinary. Layer upon layer of creamy green goodness, dispensed from a nostril into his cupped hands like so much Mr Whippy, before the poor sod was escorted from the class to see the nurse with all around him staring in wonderment and disbelief. Where it came from, we would never know. But the Gush had been born, and we knew we would never be the same again.
approved Jul 3 2003, submitted Feb 24 2003 by Chris Green
If you are male and have a 'Gypsy Racer' bicycle, and you are being mocked for having 'a girl's bike', it will not endear you to your tormenters to matter-of-factly announce that: 'It's not a girl's bike, it's unisex'.
That was a lesson I only needed to learn once, and once only.
approved Sep 30 2005, submitted Sep 29 2005 by Name Withheld
A game derived from the rhyming slang of gypsy's kiss, meaning piss. Quite simply, drink four cans of coke and the last one to take a slash wins.
approved May 1 2003, submitted Apr 1 2003 by anonymous user