The Law of the Playground
the letter p
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The teacher who directed our primary school pantomime used to put a lot of effort into after-school rehearsals. Sometimes just for one or two of the cast. At one of these, I (Abanazar the wicked uncle) and Widow Twankey (another boy) were encouraged to lie down on our backs, side by side, in just our PE kit, and let our hands `explore' each other's bodies without making a sound. We were told that this would teach us `proper body control'. The teacher turned the light off and watched us do it in silence for about ten minutes. My parents thought he was a wonderful teacher and refused to listen to any complaint - an emerging pattern in my school career.
I though this would be funny but it appears to have taken me to a dark place. Still, there it is.
PS I don't think I've libelled anyone, have I? That's why I left out all the names. Also the rumours about the hard drive and the pictures and the prison sentence. But I daresay you're awash with those.
approved Sep 24 2003, submitted Sep 18 2003 by Name Withheld
Pants checkers will go to the changing room during swimming, while everyone else was in the pool. Then, they would check all pants for "poo stripes." I agree, strange in hindsight. Philip Connors pants generally tested positive and then would be held aloft by the side of the swimming pool accompanied by shouts of "Err Connors got poo stripes".
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Gilbo
Should your teacher exhibit such a lack of fashion nous as to dress in trousers with turn-ups, you must spend a significant amount of time "accidentally" dropping your pen, allowing you to get on the floor and flick paperclips at his legs with the aim of landing them in the turn-ups.

Chris Spedding was so adept at this game that Mr Law often walked out of RE lessons to a jangling musical accompaniment.
approved Apr 27 2005, submitted Apr 26 2005 by Name Withheld
Verb: to parka
The act of swinging a smaller child by the fur-rimmed hood of their Lord Anthony parka until rippage, flight or boredom ensues.

More fun can be had by tying the parka's cords to the metal bars on the bus home, giving the wearer two choices - a new coat or an unplanned trip to town, missing Grange Hill.
approved May 7 2003, submitted Apr 16 2003 by anonymous user
While playing with a frisbee in the National Trust-protected park across from school, we saw one of the evil parkies hoving into view in his little electric cart. It was a warm, early Summer day and we had our blazers and shoes off, and our trousers rolled up. He looked angrily at us for having fun in his park, hooked one thumb over his shoulder and growled at us: "Shoes on, FUCK OFF". I guess this was meant to be authoritative and pithy. It wasn't.

This, of course, became the ONLY way to tell anyone to get out of anywhere.
approved Nov 11 2005, submitted Aug 4 2005 by King Priam
The lyrics from Inner City's hit single "Big Fun" could be redirected towards a child as they sit on their own, to throw a spotlight onto how popular they aren't.

"We don't really need a crowd to have a party," you'd reassure them. "Just a funky beat and you to get it started."

The onus would then be on them to get the party started. You can encourage them with other lyrics, including "It won't take a lot of thought for you to do it" and "I think you're ready, Freddie".

A second option is to tell them "you're having big fun" until a bubble of stifled emotion plops out of their nose.
approved Oct 21 2011, submitted Oct 21 2011 by Jon Blyth
Just a fairly shit if charming - insult song; sung to the tune from the Pet Shop Boy's hit single 'Go West'.
Pascal, wrestles grizzly bears.
Pascal, in the open air.
Pascal, in his underwear.
Pascal, that's why we don't care.
If we were really so indifferent to Pascals habits, however, its odd that we spent so much time singing about how much we didnt care.
approved Mar 10 2003, submitted Dec 19 2002 by s field
Variation on the more commonly accepted and widely practiced self gratification pastime, masturbation. Could be Italian in origin.

According to Ste Roberts, the method involved boiling an amount of pasta (pasta type was not specified so presumably most shapes will suffice)until 'al dente', then transferring pasta to an empty jam jar, leaving the lid off but covering the top with a double layer of cling film into which a small slit is made.

Once pasta cools from very hot to quite warm, the pastabater's penis can be inserted into the jar of pasta, at which point the pastabating can begin in earnest.

Never actually tried this, however having actually written the process up, it sounds more plausible than it did 20 years ago.
approved Jul 24 2006, submitted Mar 29 2006 by anonymous user
Mr Boyd was banned from driving a car, after one too many tipsy-tours. This confined him to a scooter, and freed up the whole day for guilt-free drinking from a bottle he kept on his desk. This came to an end on the day that Nick Reid had a drink from his bottle.
Mr Boyd whipped around from the blackboard and yelled "Excuse me, I've already had my breakfast!"
We all sat there in silence, wondering what he was talking about. He then explained with the following: "If you're going to drink in my class, drink from a glass".
So, Nick asked if he could go and get a glass. "NO!" shouted Mr Boyd.
Cue five minutes of stunned silence. Mr Boyd just stood there, obviously livid by this point, and asked "What are you all looking at me for?"
"Because you're the teacher?" came the mousy reply from Joe Boyer. Pat then stormed out, allowing us a replacement teacher for the rest of the year.
approved Dec 16 2004, submitted Dec 3 2004 by Pogglesnatch
Our English teacher's attempts to remonstrate with Edward were met with a long, protracted 'tut', followed by an exclamation that she was a 'blodclart'. When ask to repeat what he had said, she was also told that she was a 'bumbaclart', and told 'not to distress' him any longer.
The teacher then informed the young man that she was fully conversant with Jamaican patois, due to the fact that she had lived with a black guy for several years, and had him suspended for a week.
For those that don't know, my extensive research has revealed that a 'blodclart' is a 'used tampon', and that a 'bumbaclart' translates literally as an 'anal tampon'.
God, I feel SO babylon. - Mansh
approved Jan 15 2006, submitted Jan 14 2006 by Derek Moseley
Announced in 5th year that he was the dirtiest kid in the class because his name could be loosely rendered as follows: Fat Prick Screw Sac. At a time when such terms were hot currency, this lent him definite cachet. Patrick Cusack also told me leeringly one day that if you pulled your dick for long enough, white stuff would come out the end of it. Such a practice, he revealed, was called "mestempation", and furthermore he had done it himself. I thought this was the biggest load of bullshit I had ever heard in all my life. White stuff coming out the end of your dick? Chinny on, Patrick.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Simon Mantle
Two things - other amusing "all-rhyming names" are Big Horny Beaver (Sigourney Weaver) and Prick Fuck Balls (Mick Hucknall, from Pimply Head). Also, this is presumably the new 5th Year, and not the one that meant you were 15, when I were a lad
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
Mark told us that he had something wrong with his willy - and that to treat it, his mum had to squeeze it every night until white stuff came out of the end.
At the time, we were deeply sympathetic to this awful affliction, envisaging some kind of hideous penis-boil combo. Nowadays I'd be fascinated to know just what the hell Mark's mum thought she was up to.
approved Apr 23 2005, submitted Nov 16 2004 by Julian Burnell
If a man is predisposed to prostate cancer, he has to ejaculate at least once daily to avoid getting cancer of the penis which leads to either death or castration.

That's obviously what Mark's mum was doing.
approved Jan 2 2007, submitted Oct 10 2006 by Osiris of Egypt
How could one person manage to be so feeble, yet so resilient? Patrick Seers is a paradox. The school's most prominent geek, he was the person that the regular geeks used as a cushion to reduce their own noise on the bully radar.

It was as heartbreaking as it was unstoppable. Patrick Seers. Bullied 8 hours a day, five days a week, for 5 years. Patrick Seers. Even the usual sympathetic types kind of gave in after two minutes of civil conversation, coming away with the sense that he did, somehow, deserve it. He played the euphonium.

He has also survived to become someone that exists, seems successful, and has - from limited Facebook snooping - developed a good circle of friends.

Just goes to show. It really does get better. And not just for the gay ones. For Patrick Seers.
approved Nov 18 2003, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
There is evidently a Patrick Seers in every town, in the same way that every country has a storyteller. In Cheltenham he is Jummow. He is exactly the same, in every respect. Except the getting better bit.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Si G.
There is indeed one in every town. Ours was Hannaford, whose torments ranged from being forced (by verbal threats only) to masturbate during a maths lesson and eat the results, to the legendary crucifixion (to two cross-wise brooms while in only his Y-fronts, then hung out of a third floor window). He fucking loved every second of it.
approved Feb 27 2003, submitted Feb 27 2003 by Curly Keating
Scott Jameson signed his name followed by the initials LM. He was the library monitor, you see. And this fact was more important to him than not getting beaten for being a prick.
approved Mar 14 2003, submitted Mar 7 2003 by Duncan Silander
The worst thing about our version of Patrick Sears - Greg Edge - was that throughout his torture, he maintained a bright and cheery disposition, and was relentlessly nice to both his tormentors and those who ignored him.
It was like someone had told him that if you smiled and behaved well, everything would turn out all right in the end. And, like some grinning man-tard, he had believed them.
approved Jul 15 2004, submitted Dec 10 2003 by pepe le pew
My name is Patrick Sears and I am nothing like these things you explain. Maybe next time you decide to write something to leave out a name cause I am sure there are other people with your name that has done bad things too.

Hello, Patrick Sears! I hope for your sake that you are nothing like these things I explain! Point taken, Patrick - maybe next time I decide to write something to leave out a name - because as you so rightly say, there must be other people with my name that has done bad things. - Log
approved Apr 18 2005, submitted Jan 24 2005 by anonymous user
Forgetting your kit would result in PE in your pants. If many forgot, then the hall would resemble a Blue Peter Romanian orphanage crossed with one of Jonathan King's less extreme fantasies.
approved May 13 2003, submitted Feb 11 2003 by John Larder
I also suffered this humiliation. I also remember on my first day at school the teacher mentioning that the next day we would be doing PE. As a 4 year old who had never heard this acronym before, I went home explaining to my mum that the next day we had to take peas to school.
Am I the only one thinking that this story is lovely, but not quite what it could be? Wouldn't it have been ace if Clare had gone home and said that the teacher made her do pee in her pants, which started a neighbourhood furore and eventually lynching of a paediatrician? Harumph! - Log
approved Dec 18 2003, submitted Dec 14 2003 by Clare Watson
This is a post-shower game invented by me and my brother. Straight after our shower, we would do a 'peacock parade' to our parents (and sometimes other adult guests) who were sitting in the living room next door. The 'peacock' effect comes from taking your towel and sticking one corner firmly between your bum cheeks and squeezing tight. Then you walk around on your tippie-toes with your head held proudly back. After a couple of laps, you go back in your room and everyone is going 'ooh isn't that funny'.
Occasionally however, in an effort to avoid the towel slipping out (from the friction of the carpet), which it sometimes did, I would stick the towel up my bum a bit too far, so that the corner went a bit brown. Then my brother would go and tell Mum and it would ruin the whole game.
approved Sep 25 2003, submitted Sep 24 2003 by Daniel Scott
A game for peanut allergy sufferers. The boy with the allergy puts his mouth at the end of the table. Other boys try to flick peanuts into his mouth. He is allowed to use a Coke bottle as a goalkeeper.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Robin
Similar to Revels Russian Roulette. Find some kid who's allergic to peanuts, and offer him Revel. He has a 1 in 6 chance of it containing a peanut. Even more fun if your victim doesn't realise that those sweets you're genourously offering are Revels.
Interestingly, revels nicked this game and turned it into a 'deer hunter' spoof advert. Only the 'fatal' revel was a coffee one. Cowards.
approved Mar 1 2003, submitted Jan 15 2003 by Name Withheld
The pulling of a tie so that the knot is so small that it can only be undone with microscopic needles. A defence is to tie a two pence coin into the knot - although you may be called a jew or a gyppo if it is discovered that you keep two pees in secret hiding places.
approved Jun 1 2005, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jimbob N
I witnessed a severe case of peanutting in which the victim, rather alarmingly began to turn purple, choke and cough up blood.
approved Feb 23 2003, submitted Feb 12 2003 by Shrill .
The term for extreme peanutting is, of course, 'chokeanut'
approved May 2 2003, submitted Feb 25 2003 by anonymous user
The ultimate form of the peanut, however, is the potentially mythical Atomic Peanut, where the knot becomes so small that a tiny explosion makes the kipper snap off.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Mar 17 2003 by dave green
At least one child in the school will have learned, probably through a familial connection, that there is a secret knot used by policemen. When tied with this knot, a tie cannot be peanutted - it simply releases, leaving the confounded crim holding a tie, and the rozzer free to throw them down the stairs.

When translated to the playground, however, this cunning trick will inevitably backfire as the peanutting bully will simply run off with your tie, leaving you to get in trouble for not wearing the correct uniform.
approved Nov 22 2004, submitted Oct 25 2004 by Douglas Finlay
A simple trick, and something of a once only event, the Pen Fifteen Club was used on every new kid at my school. Ask them if they want to join your club. Tell the new kid that all the cool kids are in the club. They will always want to join. At which time you take the industrial size permanent black marker and ask the victim to hold out their right hand. Then, very slowly, deliberately and neatly, write a huge PEN15. Because you did it on their right hand, the teacher will always see the PEN15. And the victim will not squeal.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Calum Fisher
You have 15 pens in an exciting variety of styles and hues. So do all the other members. It's a whole bunch of fun. Who WOULDN'T want to be in the Pen Fifteen club? So the uncool kid, desperate to join the gang, collects together fifteen pens in an equally exciting variety of styles and hues, and proudly presents them to the club. "Brilliant!" you tell him. "You have fifteen pens! Now you can recieve the secret Pen Fifteen club sign!" Taking the biggest, blackest, and most indelible of your collection, you then write "PEN 15" in big letters on said kids hand. Gorgeous in its simplicity, and great for fucking with the sort of kid who really DID collect scented rubbers or unusual pencil sharpeners.
(PS: I believe there is already a submission for the Pen Fifteen club somewhere in the archives. However, mine is better, and I'd be willing to go head to head with the other contributor. Good luck in the swimsuit round.)
approved Dec 13 2002, submitted Dec 13 2002 by Susan Tobacco
If a boy asks to borrow your pencil sharpener, on no account give it to him, it means you want to have sex with him.
Conversely, never borrow a pencil off a boy, as this also means you want to have sex with him. A rubber is alright, as long as it is scented. But scented rubbers are gay, so it's not alright, because that means you want to have sex with him.
approved Jul 12 2004, submitted Dec 9 2003 by F F
Girls should also be mindful of the colour of the pencil they would like to borrow from a boy. If a girl wants a pink or purple pencil, she wants to see your cock, and if she wants a brown pencil, she wants you to bum her.
No-one should ever try to borrow a yellow pencil.
approved Jun 13 2005, submitted Jun 4 2005 by Pogglesnatch
Urban Myth. Young man, overcome with stress, puts a pencil up either nostril during an exam and brings his head down on the desk. The pencils go into his brain, killing him instantly.

The rumour that everyone in the room gets compensated for their mental trauma by getting a free A* means that most people have the vague, unspoken idea that witnessing a suicide would be fucking brilliant.
approved Jun 1 2005, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jimbob N, Jon Blyth
I actually became good friends with someone a couple of years ago who claimed to have been in the room at the time of the 'incident'. When I met him, he could barely talk due to severe drug abuse over the preceding years (presumably to get rid of the 'nasty' images in his head) and he had a genuine fear of pencils - he was fine with pens but pencils would make him start shaking and crying. In retrospect, he was probably just another guy who took too much acid too young...he's probably dead now.
approved Dec 15 2002, submitted Dec 15 2002 by Name Withheld
My best friend claims that when he was about 8 someone in his class called Wayne really did accidentally kill himself by putting pencils up his nose and bringing his head down on the desk. My friend's exact recollection of the incident was "I don't mind that I saw it happened, I mean, it made me the person I am today. I didn't really know what was happening to be honest, but there was fuckloads of blood."

I just laughed because this urban myth is rife with fifteen year olds around the time of GCSE mocks. I still don't believe him but he swears it's true. It happened in Wigan, which makes it ever so slightly more believeable.
approved Mar 1 2003, submitted Jan 30 2003 by anonymous user
File under pencil murder, anal.
Boy 1 holds pencil, point up, on chair of boy 2. Boy 2 sits down, pencil forcibly tears through his trousers into his rectum, shears through the sensitive tunnel, javelins the prostate gland, leaving the child in excruciating agony as he slowly dies of an internal bum haemorrhage.
This version is funnier because it has a bum in it.
approved Apr 15 2005, submitted Dec 18 2003 by The Boy Tucker
A similar, but non-fatal, injury befell Nicholas Smith in our third year. Holding year-group assemblies in the dining hall was a brave move, given the dangerous mix of weaponry and boredom, but ironically it was a carefully positioned 3-inch pepperpot that did for him.

From my vantage point one bench behind the suspense was paralysingly funny, but when the time came he sat down with such vigour that it still sends a shudder through me to picture him rocketing back to his feet.

By sixth form he had taken to wearing an orange ankle-length frock around town.
approved Feb 17 2005, submitted Dec 13 2004 by anonymous user
This isn't connected to the classic exam-room urban myth, but one day school gippo and twelve-year-old Aphex Twin lookalike Louis Gibbs decided that his Dr Martens were most ideally used as pencil destroying machines. Maybe they were, in some ways. But not pencils that were pointing upright. And definitely not with a stamping action.
Those pencils slid through his Dr Martens as though they were fashioned from wet toilet paper. Louis rolled around on the floor screaming after jumping off the table onto one of these pencils. When a teacher entered the classroom and saw what had happened, he asked "Are you able to pull it out?" with an obvious lack of giving a shit.
I literally get high, giddy and sick when I remember seeing less than half a pencil sticking out of the sole of his shoe. Groo.
approved Sep 3 2007, submitted Dec 4 2006 by L HG
A more controlled version of "pencil fencing" (qv). At primary school, someone said that if you poked your skin with a sharp pencil, a bit of the lead (ie. graphite) would be left behind under your skin, which (as far as we knew) was a real tattoo. We all tried it, but, speaking personally, any marks that were made just washed off. Easily.
approved Dec 14 2002, submitted Dec 13 2002 by Dupli Citous