The Law of the Playground
the letter k
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An unlikely Jewish misinterpretation of the hit song "Kinky Boots".
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
The child who shows most effort. The child who has his tongue so far up the teacher's anus that the teacher turns around and says "For licking my arse so well, I crown you King Lick - but with your new title comes responsibility - the responsibility to have no friends, to have your every achievement ridiculed, and most of all, to keep on tonguing my arse."
approved Jun 14 2004, submitted Feb 5 2004 by Name Withheld
Although not technically a proper mong, Ross did have a speech impediment somewhere between a blocked nose and a cleft palate. This, combined with his shambling gait and lack of academic ability, made him the closest thing to a proper mong we had in the absence of a dedicated special needs unit at our school.

During one day of particularly heavy taunting, Ross tried to escape by climbing the side of a building. There he hung by one arm, and with the other swiped feebly at his tormentors ten feet below, emitting a low guttural moan.

It later turned out that Ross was a very sick young man, and had suffered abuse at the hands of his family from an early age. Nonetheless, I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for providing me and my friends with the wonderful phrase "King Mong". Long may it continue.
approved Apr 14 2005, submitted Dec 21 2004 by The Boy Tucker
A gentle, quasi-insult from more innocent days, when climbing up a thing just to get to the top of it was the giddiest of thrills. "Im the King of the castle/and youre the dirty rascal!" youd shout from the top to your fellow climbee, and genuinely, you couldnt have felt king-ier if you tried. Try calling someone a "dirty rascal" these days and seeing where it gets you.

Interestingly, even girls shouted "KING of the castle". Presumably its not considered a very queenly thing to do, climbing stuff, though HRH would probably be more popular if she did occasionally tuck her skirt in her pants and got a boostie up the side of a bus shelter.
approved Dec 18 2002, submitted Dec 17 2002 by Paul Cheese
I made my pre-school brother a Rocket Man suit just like in the series (BBC2, black and white cliffhangers? I know it had a Rocket Man in it). It had a helmet, a jetpack and some buttons on a belt. I was so proud, and the costume rocked so much that I played outside in it. And got spotted. To some, I remain King of the Rocket Men to this day.
approved Feb 3 2003, submitted Feb 1 2003 by anonymous user
The title bestowed to the first person back to their table after lunch break. There was no crown, and the King of the Tables had no special powers apart from being allowed to sharpen the communal crayons on the teachers special windy-handled desk mounted sharpener.
Wayne Hales would generally win, not through athleticism, but through brute force. He would swing and maul his way to the title, then set about daintily sharpening crayons for us for the rest of the lesson.
approved Oct 19 2005, submitted Mar 6 2003 by Name Withheld
When we were at primary school, all the toilets were made by Armitage Shanks - and their name was printed with pride at the top of each urinal.

Whilst having a piss, it was imperative that you touched the "k" in "Shanks" making you The King. Of, er, going to the toilet.

However, if there was more than one person in the toilet, you could lean over to someone else's urinal and press the "g" in "Armitage" because that meant that, far from being King of doing a wee-wee, the user was gay. And you would shout 'GAYYY' just to drive the message home.

This is one of those pastimes I wouldn't really recommend continuing into adulthood.

approved Mar 24 2008, submitted Jul 29 2006 by L H
Yet another game with no obvious intention or worth beyond providing further means to elevate yourself a whisker above your peers. The game operated only within a small social circle and involved asking a friend a question you already knew the answer to. At the game's most base level, for example, you may ask "is this a banana?" while clearly holding a banana in front of the proposed kippering victim. If he replied with a straight answer to the question then he had been "kippered", and the correct response of the kipperer was to adopt a dramatically pained expression and look away while exhaling heavily, usually following up with the phrase "ooh, kippered him a treat". If the proposed victim spotted the kipper coming, saying "You're alright, mate" would block the kipper. The game died a natural death after a couple of months when no conversation could occur among my friends without a dozen kippering attempts and everyone was constantly on their guard to the point of replying to any spoken word with "You're alright, mate". I'm ashamed to say that me and my friends were in our Upper Sixth when this game evolved from christ-knows-where.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Alex Herbert
A similar game to kippering is the game of 'Aaaaah'! To win a round of Aaaah, simply get someone to correct a blatantly false statement. For example;
A and B are listenind to the radio. Wham!'s hit single Careless Whisper begins playing.
A : I hate Adam and the Ants
B : This isn't Adam and...
A : Aaaaah!
Annoying yet rewarding, even as a 28 year old.
approved Nov 18 2003, submitted Nov 14 2003 by anonymous user
Running around, imagining that you know what an erection is, and hoping to touch a girl's gusset peach. Had you managed it, you would have been sick.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Scott Williams
Kiss chase could also be extremely dangerous. I, for one, broke my arm chasing a weedy little boy. Damn, I wanted that kiss.
approved Sep 22 2003, submitted Jul 22 2003 by jenny harper
When I was invited to join the Kissing Girls - the exclusive club for the most popular girls in the school - I was naturally very excited. The sole purpose of the club was to chase boys around and kiss anyone they caught, amidst vague protestations of "ick". One day, I chased down a boy, rugby-tackled him to the ground, and then, when he refused to hold still, I jabbed him in the face with a sharp stick. I wasn't able to kiss him, because he was too busy crying and holding his bleeding face in his hands while everyone else looked on, aghast.

I suspect that it was my failure to deliver the kiss that was the reason the Kissing Girls never let me play with them again.
approved Oct 20 2003, submitted Oct 18 2003 by Name Withheld
I always felt I was the king of Kiss Chase, as none of the girls could get near me. I ran like the wind and dodged tackles like a French rugby fly-half. And so I would often find myself in a corner of the playing field all on my own with nary a girl in sight. No girly germs for me thank you very much.

It was only ten years later that I realised all the other boys walked or stood still or 'tripped over' and got to spend the entire break snogging whilst I ran round on my own singing 'I am the Champion' like a fool.
approved Aug 19 2006, submitted Aug 17 2006 by VK Fail
The flap of material in the back of your blazer, right next to your arse. The 'kiss flap' was used by gaylords and homos when they wanted to do something to your bottom.

Barry Symonds was thrown out of maths for telling our teacher about kiss flaps.
approved Jan 25 2003, submitted Jan 21 2003 by Scott Anderson
The somewhat bitter despatch of a payslip to that teacher who told you you'd get "nowhere in life studying art and drama" (Mr Welsh.. kiss my bank balance). Highlighter pen allows clear demonstration that you pay more tax in a month than he takes home over two.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Giles Bicknell
My erstwhile careers advisor doubled as my woodwork teacher. For years I was told I would amount to nothing. Whilst I never despatched a copy of my P90 to him, imagine my satisfaction when he severed his finger during a 5th year woodwork lesson. Oh, and I earn what can only be described as a shitload of cash as a consultant on international contracts. I believe myself justified in saying "Up yours, Mr. Fox, you smelly short-fingered twat".
approved Jul 24 2003, submitted Jul 18 2003 by Jason Beech
Yes. In a similar "boo sucks" vein, I posted a copy of first book to evil comprehensive-school-pupil-hating English tutor at Oxford who had suggested early on in my academic career that I might be happier at South Bank Poly. The fact that the book was about dance music and drug culture, rather than being called something like 'The sonnet: wherefore? Post-feminist dialectics on a premodern form' did nothing to prove him right, or so I felt at the time.
approved Oct 9 2003, submitted Jul 30 2003 by spadge monkey
I had the reverse. My headmaster was, for many years, convinced that I was going to be not only the world's best writer and orator, but a shoe-in for Prime Minister, all dueto my charm, intelligence and acting ability.
Ironically, I'm now a drugged-up bum who amounted to fuck all!
Oh, how foolish you look now, Mr Davies!
approved Apr 19 2005, submitted Oct 29 2004 by Nick Kent
A mate of a mate called David Burrows was never very academic but a good footballer at school and was always told he'd amount to nothing by his form tutor. When he signed for Liverpool from West Bromwich Albion, he took his cheque for £50,000 to show the red-faced know it all.

Admin adds: A quick google search for David Burrows reveals that he signed to Liverpool for £500,000 in 1988. He played at the Hillsborough fire game, you know. So put THAT in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Form Tutor. Just be careful where you stub it out. - Matt
approved Nov 23 2005, submitted Nov 23 2005 by Lee M
Nim nim nim Hillsborough nim nim nim fire nim nim nim Bradford nim nim nim.

All further whinges about tragedy inaccuracy should be submitted under the entry for the Heysel Piping Hot Soup Disaster. Now stop it. - Matt
approved Mar 10 2006, submitted Mar 10 2006 by Keeno Keeno Everybod Cunty McFlapbuckets
Extreme version of kiss chase played at my primary school. Boys would chase the girls, as usual. Upon capture, however, the victim would be offered one of three eqully attractive options: a quick dribbly snog, a slightly less quick grope under the vest, or a much longer grope in the Victoria Plum gusset region. Answering 'nothing' was deemed to be a shy request for torture. I was a very fast runner and never got caught. I was forced to develop a limp.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Amanda V
"Oh, Neil!" - a cry of anguish from an exasperated maths teacher directed at her most infuriating pupil...

...and a cue for the entire class to drop to their knees.
approved May 1 2003, submitted Jan 20 2003 by Emma Cairns
The act of creeping up behind someone in the the playground, then repeatedly kneeing them up the arse while chirpily singing the famous cockney ditty. Joyous in its simplicity.
approved Jun 28 2005, submitted Jun 10 2005 by steve bolsover
An old dictionary definition for knickers, was short trousers worn by footballers, and by women as underclothes. This dates back to the time when knickers was short for knickerbockers, you see. It was quite acceptable at one stage in British history for men to say "let's put our knickers on and have a knockabout".
Anyway, the girl discovering this definition would ask the boys if they played football. Of course we did - we were boys. So she replies "you wear knickers", to which we, in turn, would say "don't be stupid".
approved Jul 10 2004, submitted Jan 18 2004 by Craig Hudson
Joke that you can use to ridicule Jehova's Witnesses. "Knock knock / Who's There? / It's your mum and dad....". See also Christmas.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
A book in our religious education class was written by David Konstant, and John Cumming. It was written by Christians, and it was called "Beginnings". We were never made to read the book, but I have the grim feeling that it may have been disappointing. If you don't believe me, look here.
approved Dec 9 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Completely random careers advising computer programme. Kind of similar to CASCAiD, really. I was once advised to become a book binder, and my brother a ballet dancer.
approved Mar 7 2003, submitted Feb 22 2003 by Laura Horgan
Kudos is still in circulation. It said I would make a good floor manager or wigmaker. So many people would seem to make good wigmakers; I'm surprised there aren't more wigs in the world. Perhaps there are... I mean, if everyone turned out to be really good wigmakers, I suppose I wouldn't realise everyone was bald. God, is everyone bald?
approved Oct 24 2003, submitted Sep 14 2003 by Captain Doormat
I got told i would be suited to the professions of dog groomer, wig maker (perhaps this was because of my surname, though), beautician, and deep sea diver (ie sailor). I must have ticked the I a big gay box. By accident. I'm not gay.
approved Oct 8 2004, submitted Feb 19 2004 by Tom Wiggins
The corridor cleaning machines with circular furry discs on the underside.
This name must be unique to my school. As a group of us were engaged in some light vandalism of the sixth form common room, the head caretaker walked in and caught us.
Angry, but not having enough respect or guts to challenge us directly, he said "stop that, or I'll go and get Mike Webber". The idea of our Deputy Head, Mr Webber, having an informal first name didn't register, so there was a moment of confusion before someone asked "what's a kwebber?"
The only thing that made sense was that he was offering to tidy up our mess with his massive sandy-wheeled machine. So on we carried.
approved Feb 5 2005, submitted Jan 3 2005 by anonymous user