The Law of the Playground
the letter k
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'Pastime' derived from an Indian sport that used to be on Channel 4. The actual game involved two teams of Indians in nappies on a dusty court, with the apparent aim being to hit each other in the legs. Why, with a little fine tuning, this would make a great playground game, we said.
We 'fine tuned' it to the point where we actually just beat each other up whilst yelling "KABBADI!".
Although the casual racism was the cherry on the cake, it was those two key elements - shouting and fighting - that made it such a hit.
approved Apr 5 2006, submitted Mar 26 2006 by Scott Douglas
The sound one must make when launching handfuls of foam ripped from the bus seats out of the back window and onto the windscreen of the jeep behind, causing it to swerve wildly.
approved May 1 2003, submitted Apr 15 2003 by Name Withheld
Nickname given to boys who had brain tumours. Whether true or not, to us the tumour was removed with a big metal skewer by a doctor who fished around in your brain until he got it. Hence, brain tumour patients were human kebabs, and were so dubbed.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
One PE lesson I hid, with a bunch of equally physically inept mates, behind a wall which was being used as one of the goals for a game of football. Amos, a normally tolerated child, was in that goal. Sadly, he soon let one in. For about five minutes after this he stood there, watching the game and repeating, through gritted teeth, the phrase that would haunt him for the next two years: "Keep it together, Amos!" This would be repeated to him after every slap to the head, after every drop of a pencil, after every sneeze. Ironically, he very rarely did keep it together, regularly going into a total rage in response to the taunts. The pinnacle of this was when it was said, unwittingly, by a teacher in Science. He ended up on the floor, in tears. Never have I felt such love for a teacher. Except Ms Freeman. She was fit.
approved Jun 19 2005, submitted May 6 2005 by Name Withheld
This should be shouted whenever a goalkeeper ventures outside of the goal area, in football. You know, like when they go up for corners and stuff. I'm sure John Motson said this once.
approved Jan 19 2008, submitted Nov 1 2005 by anonymous user
Daring to wear white socks with your school uniform? You're not being rebellious, you are simply being a Kevin.

Woe betide the white-sock-clad rebel whose name really is Kevin.
approved Jul 9 2003, submitted Jul 8 2003 by Name Withheld
At the beginning of every music lesson we were told to make a composition, and there invariably followed a madcap dash to the end of the corridor where the more expensive keyboards were kept under lock and key. Their appeal lay exclusively in their ability to play 'demo' tracks, utilising every instrument in rendering, for example, the theme from Star Trek or Air On A G-String. When I got my hands on one, I spent the lesson completely engrossed, and when we performed, Pearson played the Beverly Hills Cop, Josh had the chords, and I turned my keyboard off and pretended to play accompaniment on the click-clacks. I got an E, and our teacher died two years later in his classroom, although these two facts aren't connected.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Dec 30 2002 by Buttocks Sweeting
You will need:
- 1 Yamaha PS110 per pupil, with The Entertainer as the feelgood ragtime demonstration tune.
- 1 Soft Music Teacher.
Stage One : Any one class member pretends to lean on the demonstration start button at irregular intervals throughout the lesson. Ensure the volume is at maximum. The surprise this may cause the other pupils in the class may cause them to slip onto their demonstration tune buttons, too.
Stage Two : Use the bonus comic effect of setting the tempo to maximum. Scroll through the different sounds to be had - Trombone was the best - whilst pretending to try and find the stop button. "Eh! It won't stop, miss!"
Stage Three : After the teacher blows her top, it is stylish to remain silent, and bask in the electric atmosphere, knowing that sometime soon, a synthetic trombone rendition of The Entertainer will start up again, at full volume and tempo.
Final Stage : Plug in a set of headphones to an unattended keyboard, and leave The Entertainer on a loop at a barely audible level, and watch innocently as the teacher psychologically degrades throughout the lesson. Once she leaves in hysterical tears, abandon subtlety and start up 30 simultaneous full volume renditions of The Entertainer.
approved Dec 20 2003, submitted Nov 7 2003 by Smiler Smilesy
Raise the volume and tempo on the keyboard to maximum. Then, start the Bossa Nova drum pattern. This will transform a GCSE music class into an impromptu early-90s hardcore techno dance club.
Recreate the rave piano effect by pressing one note with the forefinger of each hand, like a retarded typist.
approved Jul 12 2004, submitted Dec 22 2003 by anonymous user
We had the keyboard that recorded your voice which could then be used to play back all the swear-words, at any pitch you desired. What my mate didn't know was that when the keyboard was left idle for some time the memeory bank would discharge itself in a low slow tone. This happened to be when the class was now quiet after practising, as a Yamaha keyboard responded to its neglect by croaking an angry "fffffuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkk yyyyyyoooooouuuuu".
approved Sep 3 2007, submitted Nov 17 2005 by Mark Hornsby
The "DJ" button on some Yamaha keyboards has to be the greatest ever button ever made ever, anywhere, on anything.

Pressing it unleashes a loud shout of "DJ!", which for some strange reason seems to infuriate music teachers. It also changes all the keys to various "DJ" sounds, including several orgasmic moans.

When our music teacher told Alan to press the DJ button until he got bored of it, I think Alan believed he had died and gone to heaven.
approved Jul 25 2006, submitted Jul 25 2006 by Dunc Cameron
It seems that Dunc Cameron's entry about the DJ button has sparked a wave of nostalgia amongst our contributors. Here are just a few (all) of the many (some) we received.
The DJ button is indeed the finest thing ever put on a keyboard. Our Music lessons were a doss at the best of times, but the day we discovered the uses of the DJ button was like finding the Holy Grail.
This culminated in a couple of lads using the moaning sounds to recreate a porn soundtrack. All it really needed was the kid next to them playing a bit of 70s funk guitar, and if you shut your eyes, it'd have been perfect.
(Anonymous user)

The DJ button also infuriated our teacher. When asked to go away and write a composition, those with the new Yamaha keyboards would invariably come back with a mishmash of orgasmic moans, "DJ!" and "Dictionary" (another function). We were eventually banned from using that key.
(Nicky w)

Pressing a certain combination of keys under the DJ setting can produce the phrase "COME ON! YO! MOM!". Which is, frankly, class.
(Andrew Barnes)

I remember that you could push the keys in a certain order to make it cry out "DJ! Push the- dic- dic- dic- OH YEAH- One more time!"
(Bionic Sheep)

And lastly...
I'm still at school, and I'd like to say that making a Yamaha keyboard say "Lesbian!" on the DJ function for an hour every Monday morning brings immense happiness, as well as bragging rights.
(Anonymous user)

So there you have it. The DJ button is OFFICIALLY the best button ever. Not even the off switch on Jimmy Carr's life support machine comes close. - Matt
approved Aug 29 2006, submitted Jul 29 2006 by Bionic Sheep, anonymous user, Nicky w, Andrew Barnes
Everyone knows that girls get germs from boys and boys get germs from girls. If a boy touched a girl, she wouldn't get boy germs if she had 'keys', which simply meant that she had to cross her fingers.
If you got tired of having to keep your fingers crossed, you could 'swallow your keys', by miming sticking your crossed fingers down your throat. This provided germ protection for a considerably longer, although undefined, amount of time.
'Keys' also worked for some things that weren't germ-related. If someone was doing the "I'm crushing your head!" bit with their thumb and index finger, as seen on the TV show Kids in the Hall, you could hold up your crossed fingers and say, "Nuh-uh-uh! I got keys!" This rendered their crushing of your head ineffective, so then you'd probably just punch each other for a while.
approved Apr 24 2005, submitted Dec 8 2003 by Adri M.
Approach someone from behind, and throw a bunch of keys at their feet. As they bend down to pick them up, say "You've dropped the keys to the Gay Club, and now you're picking them up."
This is a better insult than "you've dropped your bender card", because you had proof that they were not only members of the gay club, but also such trusted members that they were keyholders of the Gay Club HQ.
Charlie Webb spots a flaw...
Surely this is ruined by the fact you'd have to - presumably - throw your own keys, thus leaving you to sheepishly ask for them back, after declaring them gay?
You : No, seriously. Can I have them back? I need them.
Them: You need the keys to the gay club?
You : No, they're my house keys.
Potential nightmare.
approved Oct 26 2004, submitted Mar 8 2004 by David Milne, Charlie Webb
The solution to Webb's Flaw, clearly, is to steal Pupil A's keys and use them to employ the Gay Club Key Ruse on Pupil B. This allows you to establish that Pupil B is a key-holding member of the Gay Club, and that Pupil A actually lives there, as A tries to get his keys back from B while you roundly mock them both.
approved Apr 17 2005, submitted Dec 27 2004 by David Moraski
Martin would be asked a question. If he answered it correctly he was kicked once. If he answered incorrectly he was kicked twice. If he didn't answer at all he was kicked until he did. Best question therefore were along the lines of "Do you shag dogs" or "Do you rim old men?" where the only way to minimise the abuse was to give the "correct" answer of Yes.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Paul Heath
A variant of football in which the pursuit of goals was scorned in favour of nutmegging* the weakest child, who would then become the gaylord until he could touch the oak tree, which stopped you being gay. Sounds easy? Well, the only thing is, when you're the gaylord, everyone has to kick you, trip you up, and generally stop you getting to the tree.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Anon
A game devised to administer pain on an individual by as many people as possible (whoever's there at the time). The game can be initiated for many reasons, such as birthday's, new shoes, new haircut etc, in fact it was a generic game used in place of the traditional methods of distributing pain to any fellow pupils who deserved it at the time (bumps for birthday, christening for new shoes etc). We soon realised that the game was so much fun we couldn't just wait until there was a special occasion to play it so we devised a rule where the last person to get to the playing field at any break time got 'Kiddy in the Middle'. This allowed us to master out techniques and we all became pretty efficient Kiddy in the Middlers quite quickly.nnThe game consisted of the chosen one lying down in a circle made by all the other participants and then having to stand up whilst everyone else kicked them as hard as they could to keep them down. The kicking would stop as soon as the 'Kiddy in the middle' was stood up (which isn't easy to do when your arms are kicked away as soon as you put any pressure on it to left yourself up). There were no real rules to this game but there did seem to be an unwritten rule where you wouldn't kick anybody in the face. This of course wasn't always upheld but most people obeyed through fear of having their teeth kicked out the next time it was their go.nnOne of my favourite memories of school was when we played Kiddy in the middle with Ben Caddy, who was officially the school bully, on his birthday. We had a huge crowd for the occasion and you could see in Ben's eyes that he knew he about to get the kicking of his lifetime. He couldn't back out as he was one of the main instigators of the game and he couldn't be seen to not be able to take what he gives out but he also knew that the normal Kiddy in the Middle etiquette was out of the window and there were one (or maybe fifteen) too many old scores about to be settled for his liking. We gave Ben a severe kicking and it was wonderful to see the kids who owed Ben a kick or two, but didn't want to upset him through fear of retaliation, join in as well once they realised that there was no way he would know they were involved with the blur of legs and DM's flying in left right and centre.nnBen came away pretty beat up and had plenty of bruises, a few nice cuts (the one to his lip I like to take credit for but it's impossible to say for sure) but my favourite injury he suffered was the black marks all over his body where the rubber had been rubbed of peoples shoes and onto his skin. It took him a while to scrub those off.nnAhhhh, happy days.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Mark Barron
Colin Holmes was in the army, at the age of eight. Not the real army. The Kids Army, not that it was any different, really, just shorter. They gave you real guns and bullets.
One week he shot the sergeant with a sub-machine gun.
approved Mar 29 2003, submitted Feb 9 2003 by john warburton
Any time a teacher picked on him, Kieran effortlessly outdid them.
Annoying face-fungus'd history teacher: "Kier Hardie was a bastard. What's a bastard, Lavery?"
Kieran: "Man with a beard, sir."

Poker-backed Principal trying to be witty, pointing to dog-end in the playground: "Is that cigarette butt yours, Lavery?"
Kieran, feigning politeness: "Oh, no, sir, you saw it first."

When we recorded a punk version of the school song (originally to a Bavarian drinking tune), Kieran did the vocals, and it degenerated into a chant about the same Principal: "Tommy Garrett, Tommy Garrett, Tommy Garrett, Tommy Garrett, anal stricture, anal stricture, anal stricture, anal stricture..."
He took a commission in the Army.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Jan 30 2003 by Roy Watson
A primary school urban myth, said clowns would hang around outside your school in a Transit van, depending on which school you attended it was either blue or white. Once a killer clown would catch a child they'd slit the unfortunate victim's mouth at each side, then tickle them until they laughed, causing the cut to tear their mouth into a grotesque smile.

Bearing the ultimate hallmark of an urban myth, everyone knew of this happening at another school.
approved Apr 19 2005, submitted Jan 14 2005 by Kindie Kyd
A particularly loathsome game where I asked the quiet kid in our class if he was kind or mean. When the response failed to come, the question would be repeated, only in a more complex variation, such as "Are you kind or are you mean? Because if you're mean you can't be kind, and if you're kind you can't be mean, which means your kind of mean, or are you mean of kind?" Occasionally I would throw in the odd chant of "MEAN CHILD" or "KIND BOY". Whatever the case, the game would only end when the subject was reduced to tears.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dom
Nigel Bullimore: An Apology
I'm sorry, Nigel, for making you sit on a table and say "chocodooby" before i pushed you off the table backwards, hilariously. You must admit though, you did look like the character in the advert. And it was funny. In fact, I'm not sure I'm that sorry.
approved Mar 27 2004, submitted Feb 19 2004 by David MacLeod
This is a really fun game from Western Australia, invented by me and my brother. To play, you get in the shower with someone else and two flannels and nominate who will be teacher and who will be the child. Then the teacher says 'It's time for a nap now'. So you both fold a flannel in half and lie down on the shower floor, using the flannel as a kind of pillow. You also have to kind of spoon each other because there's not much room. It was a really good game.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Apr 8 2003 by Daniel Scott
Graffiti daubed on the school wall, circa 1980 :
Whoever said punk's dead is a Cnut
At least that's what I thought it said. Eight years old and convinced that it was a grave insult to compare someone to the viking king of England (1016-1035).
I tried to explain to my peers that Cnut had been a good king, that the popular myth of him trying to turn back the sea was wrong, and thus this was not a very effective insult. It was about that time that the beatings began.
approved Mar 9 2003, submitted Mar 8 2003 by Phil Glansvile
The name given to the early developer, Patrick Downey, based on the prosthetically-phallused porn star of the seventies.
His crime was to get an erection one rainy afternoon after double games whilst in the post match showers then wander bold as brass into the changing rooms with his engorged member standing to attention.
The appreciative cries of "Look at the size of Paddys dick!", "Nice one, Patrick" and "Ha ha ha! Patrick's got a big dick!" were followed by a whimper of "Leave me alone! I havent got a big dick!" as Patrick fled from the changing room in tears.
Thanks to this baffling reaction, the rumour spread like wildfire that Patrick has an oversized man's cock. From the sixth formers to the braver first years, all would chant "King Dong", "Donkey Dick" and "Patrick's got a big dick"
Saying "Patrick's got a big dick" never failed to cause the well-endowed fella to run off, crying "I haven't got a big dick! Leave me alone!"
approved Mar 11 2004, submitted Mar 4 2004 by Steve Mason