The Law of the Playground
the letter p
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Aged 11, Mr. Dobson decided that it was time the six boys in my class learned the facts of life. We were led into a separate room, whereupon Mr. Dobson turned a dark purple colour and announced "boys, over the next few years you'll experience a lot of changes."

We were then escorted back to class.
approved Feb 17 2005, submitted Nov 30 2004 by Pogglesnatch
Any point on the human body which, when jabbed by the fingers of someone who has attended two Kung Fu classes, will cause collapse, haemorrhaging, and eventual death. This would be the typical itinerary of such a course; Dr Bodycount's Dark Dojo "Dead Men Don't Punch Back" Three Week Black Belt Course In Human Murder Week 1 : Introductions : Stances : Stretching Week 2 : Instant Death Spot : Refreshments Week 3 : Roundhouse kicks : Swords : Graduation
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
A sport for those very secure in their masculinity, or who simply don't give a fuck.
e.g. Sid Khan, who spent two terms making lunchtime passes at Robert Wilson, who never knew what the hell to do. Strangely, this game makes the victim seem gayer than the perpetrator, their inability to decide upon the best way to deal with the situation being interpreted as "actually thinking about it".
The only way to truly recover your heterosexuality is to punch the gay pretender, or to violently ram your penis up his anus until everyone knows the joke is over.
approved May 2 2003, submitted Apr 7 2003 by Name Withheld
A fairly rare second year pastime, which involved staring 'longingly' at the subject of ridicule during lessons.
When they turned to look back, you'd sharply look away, and busy yourself with your work, perhaps putting the finishing touches to a pencil sketch of your victim.
This is continued throughout the lesson, until the victim is either irritated to fuck, or harbouring his first nervous hopes of love.
For instance, Graham Matthews always reacted with this game with a genderbending cocktail of embarressment, anger and curiosity.
Pretending to be gay outed him to all.
approved Oct 8 2004, submitted Dec 12 2003 by anonymous user
When Drama lessons are taken with a cover teacher, every task set should somehow degrade into graphic homosexual acts.
If they try to protest, give them a fierce look, and reproachfully say "we're only acting, Miss".
approved Dec 16 2004, submitted Nov 27 2004 by Bionic Sheep
A game played on a quiet stretch of road, in which a child will lie down in the middle of the road, and await the reactions of drivers.
The judges hide behind a parked car or a low wall, and await results.
Posture : Creating the crazy-armed impression that your limbs are mangled will enhance your score greatly.
Sound Effects : Groaning, moaning, wailing, howling - all popular choices.
Speed of Oncoming Vehicle : obviously you get more points if there's squealing brakes, and the car stops with its front bumper over your forehead.
Reaction of Driver : Anger beats upset, unless they're really really upset, upset beats indifferent, indifferent beats joining-in laughter.
1. Lie where you will be seen by the oncoming cars. Getting killed by the car is the equivalent of a 22 in Blackjack.
2. Don't wear your school uniform if it's easily identifiable, or there will be assemblies about it.
3. The Price Is Shite is a pun, and is therefore funny even if it has no relation to the game itself.
approved Oct 8 2004, submitted Apr 22 2004 by Anna Watson-Jones
Teacher training days. This is where the teachers got rid of all the kids so they could play football in the corridors and "Beat Up McCann", a teacher we theorised as being less popular. Certian staff members also probably dressed in leather jackets and stole money from the lamer ones.
approved May 7 2003, submitted Apr 16 2003 by griff .
Duralex glass tumblers were widely used in UK Schools, so you could enjoy a glass of warm tap water with your school dinner. At the bottom of the glass could be found the word DURALEX, which is mysterious to a child because it has an "X" in it.
More importantly, there was a number at the bottom of the glass. This number was, quite simply, your age - for that dinner hour anyway.
The higher the number, the better. Being 2 or 3 was shameful, of course. However, being 89 was better than being 21 - a display of respecting your elders that would leave the doddering old cunts proud.
approved Nov 4 2003, submitted Oct 23 2003 by dave gibson
After the sexual state of mind had left "girls are revolting poo I don't like handstands", and just before it had reached "wow I am up to my balls in girl" - in that brief period where you were hypnotised by girls doing handstands - then the number on the bottom of a Duralex drinking glass equated to the number of girls you had slept with.
89 was considered respectable. Only having slept with 34 girls at the age of 14 was a sign of severe frigidity, impotence, and (inevitably) gayness.
Girls, never keen to appear the slag, used these numbers to say how many boyfriends they had. Or how many roses their one true love had given them. But never how many dicks they could take simultaneously.
This is what makes men and women are different, and it is why one of them leaves toilet seats up, although I can't remember which. But it's annoying!
approved Apr 15 2005, submitted Nov 6 2003 by Jon Blyth, Name Withheld
An actual excuse, as written on a late slip, for arriving half an hour late to school. I was on that bus, so I should know - it was we who had pushed him over the edge by ringing the bell every two and a quarter seconds and singing songs about vaginas.
approved Oct 3 2003, submitted Sep 7 2003 by Leopold Bloom
A game. The 'psychoanalyst' would say a word and the 'patient' had to say the first thing they thought of after hearing it.

If the patient took more than two seconds to answer, the psychoanalyst got to punch them, for 'therapy'. Ideally, the patient, under pressure, would say something like fuck after the psychoanalyst said something like donkey.
approved Apr 20 2005, submitted Apr 18 2004 by Alice Smith
Advanced form of the pube check. The 100m is run with the pubic hair tucked into the waistband of the shorts. Victory is forfeit if the pubes are not visible at the end of the race.
approved Sep 17 2003, submitted Jul 17 2003 by Toilet Tax
During secondary school I managed to convince my "friend" Chris Mckenna that bleeding out of your arse was the first sign of puberty and that everyone goes through it.
At first he was very doubtful of this, until the scale of this prank escalated, and after myself and half of the school year pestered and prodded him about him not bleeding out of his arse he finally succumbed to the immense peer pressure.
"So, Chris, you haven't bled out of your arse? That means you haven't started puberty yet. Are you sure??"
"Steven, I meant to say.... I HAVE bled out of my arse."
What a numpty.
approved Sep 21 2005, submitted Sep 5 2005 by Steven Holt
Self explanatory nickname given to Emma Francis - a girl with too many hormones. To make matters worse, she had her first period in the canteen. Can't help being slightly jealous though - it took me another 7 years to acquire the same amount of facial hair.
approved May 13 2003, submitted Dec 21 2002 by James Trotman
A legal but distasteful rolled cigarette, made out of pubic hair and pubic hair alone. A boring day of revision at the school library. No teachers around. Andrew Hopley opens his flies, grabs the scissors, and cuts out a chunk of thatch. Rolls it into a piece of paper, borrows a lighter and tries to smoke it. Then the teacher came in. "Who's been playing with matches?" he asked. The teacher was standing on the still smouldering pubic spliff, that smelled - unsurprisingly - like burnt hair.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Stephen Bray
If Panksy Lane is where your mum lives, then Puddingbowl Lane is where you get your hair cut.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Kris Foster
A short lived attempt by the sixth-formers to weed out the gayers in the school by putting up posters declaring Friday Pufti Day, and encouraging the boys to put on their best frock, bras, and suspenders. They were frustrated to discover that, despite the slipping standards of the school, nobody was actually that stupid.
approved Jun 27 2005, submitted Jun 16 2005 by chin tee
Defecating into the pug mill (a device used to compress and recycle clay) will create an incredibly powerful stench, and create a substance not unlike clay from the nozzle. Unless the teacher has a genuinely filthy mind, the last thing s/he will think is that a child has gone bo-bos in the mill. The worst thing that will happen is a change of clay supplier. The last I heard of Dusty, our school's pug mill innovator, he was managing the bakery in Sainsbury's .
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Colonel Fuddrucker
Standard, unimaginative retort to a threat of violence - "if you hit me, I'll hit you". "If you spit at me, I'll spit at you".
If someone is creeping up on you with a view to ripping the label out of your underwear, however, don't say "If you pull that off, I'll pull yours off".
If you did say that, hilarity would surely ensue.
approved Oct 2 2003, submitted Oct 2 2003 by red andy
A convenient label, incorporated into clothing, that the wearer is a poof under medical attention.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Graeme Beck
Can also be a request to "Piss Up My Arse"
approved Apr 10 2005, submitted Sep 6 2003 by Chris Harrison
Or "Please Use My Anus".
approved Sep 11 2006, submitted Aug 29 2006 by Andy The Pieman
One of those "You can't hurt me..." idiots, with a smooth spherical ginger head and terrible teeth, "Pumpkin" already had enough reasons to be bullied.
Then his family got involved.
After school one day Pumpkin was about to get into his mummy's car when he was tripped by a boy half his age. "Ha-ha! PUMP-KIN!" laughed most people alive at the time.
Indignant, his mother burst out of the car, stuck her chest out and declared: "Yeah? Well I'm MRS Pumpkin!"

Pumpkin's look of "Fucks sake, Mum" coupled with the realisation of where Pumpkin's, well, pumpkin-ness came from, made for at least a term's worth of impressions and some great halloween costumes.
approved Apr 23 2005, submitted Jan 28 2005 by thomas byrne
Mrs Baron was evil, vile and would rip you to shreds because the cleaners had knocked something over after you'd gone home.
One ingenious teaching method employed by this beast of a woman was as follows: instead of telling the class to be quiet, she would sit at her desk with her hand in the air in a type of Nazi salute. One by one the children would notice this and do the same. Her logic was that the last child to do it would be the child that was paying the least attention - and thus talking the most. Unfortunately, it could also mean that the child who wasn't acting like a member of the Hitler youth was actually getting on with their work.
Ironically Mrs Baron was barren. She left at the end of the school year to adopt a baby.
approved Jun 27 2005, submitted Jun 18 2005 by Bob Setchfield
An unpopular female music teacher with dark hair one day appeared to have dyed it slightly purple. Todd Roylance, the perennial teacher-breaker, asked her why she had purple hair, to which she replied, "I walked under a purple cloud, and it rained!"
This pathetic attempt at a joke was met with howls of sarcastic laughter, and cries of "That's so funny, miss!", "You should be a comedian!", and possibly a simple, "You're shit, miss!". She left the room in tears.
approved Mar 9 2003, submitted Jan 29 2003 by Bobs Meryll