The Law of the Playground
the letter s
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The right-hand man of the Sultan of Browneye. Sultan Sheik was by no means a rich man, but had a warm heart. He was the stabiliser wheels to the wild, careening Grifter that the Sultan of Browneye rode to Capersville, Arizona every week. Was married and heterosexual, but tolerated his frequent punchline buggerings with a "well, what can you do?" shrug.
approved Oct 2 2003, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth
If you can organise it, it's well worth getting everyone in the class to put on a pair of sunglasses while the teacher is looking at the blackboard. Top hats and red contact lenses is even better. You could also give the teacher a tour of the world, if you have plenty of room under your desks. A string of onions and a beret one time, a three cornered hat and a bockwurst the time after. I would challenge any teacher to get genuinely angry at that.
approved Apr 15 2005, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth
Mrs Waterhouse once taught an entire French lesson without saying a single word about the fact that the whole class were wearing paper bags with little eyeholes cut in them and smiley faces drawn on.
approved Aug 2 2005, submitted Aug 2 2005 by anonymous user
Super-heroes have been quite the thing recently, and showing unusual popular awareness, our local church decided to surf the zeitgeist.
Children attending church days were no longer sub-roleplaying gorks. They were Super-Heroes who attended Mission HQ (the village hall) to receive top-secret (cos no-one bothered going) assignments!
This rebranding of the church was backed up with a series of A4 posters containing all the vaguely hero-related clip-art the vicar could throw at it.
Needless to say, with a single stroke of the pen, these posters were amended to offer the children of the parish a rare strain of Super-Herpes.
approved Oct 11 2004, submitted Sep 28 2003 by Alfred Overy
We had a supply teacher who was a druid. Two weeks of constant abuse, and the poor gimp left. Heh. Mind you, that's not a nasty as the German teacher who left shortly after we discovered her miscarriage.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Dave Tree
This is fucking true, I swear, nobody ever really believes this when I tell them, as their school was never as fucked up as mine. At Eaglesfield School - a boys comprehensive in South East London - from around 1985 - 1990 we had a supply teacher called Ms. Alexander. Ms. Alexander was a semi-op transsexual who had had a boob job, but I don't think anything else. As a man, he must have put the likes of Clint Eastwood and John Wayne to shame with his uncompromisingly masculine looks. Therefore, as a women, it was a fucking tragedy. REALLY REALLY man-like, with a square-jaw, muscular legs and a deep voice. She used to wear ropey women's clothes from Oxfam that were out of date in that uniquely Oxfam way, including her infamous 'bullet belt' - a belt made of rifle shells. She drove a canary yellow Ford Cortina Mk2, with leopard print seat covers, and which for quite a while had no windscreen.nnPupils would always know when she had entered a classroom, as there would be a massive cheer from down the corridor, and the chanting of 'trannie trannie trannie' would begin.nnShe had an uphill struggle to control a class, but kids would always push it to the limit to see her freak out. She would shout FUCKING loud, and throw things. She chucked a desk at a kid called Danny Hill once. Then she came up to him, and ranted at him for about a minute. Her face about an inch from his.... everyone thought she had cracked and the class was deadly silent. When she stopped, everyone looked at Danny in a way that suggested 'you fucking done it this time'. I think he had blatantly called her a 'fucking tranny' or something. After about five seconds of deadly silence, he wiped his face, and replied 'don't spit at me when you're talking,' and the whole class went loopy with joy. Nobody in my class was ever scared of her again.nnAlexander often used to pretend to go and get Mr. Keith, who was the strictest teacher in the school, and a deputy head. This would shit everyone up, so we all behaved. If people pushed it still, she would leave the class to get him. On one occasion, she took forever, so someone went outside the class to see if they could see her coming back with 'Keithy'. She was hiding on the stairwell, twiddling hr thumbs, pretending to 'get Mr.Keith'. The student then asked if she was coming back in the one ever took her threats seriously again.nnWe also had a an open stair plan in one of the buildings, where you could see the people coming up from the floor below. Often - usually on a Friday - during class changes in the afternoon, a group of classes comprising of 'older students' would cross paths. Ms Alexander would also seem to cross these paths too, and thus, everyone would gather on the stairs to gob on her back from above. Often she would enter classes with a back covered in teenage saliva.nnOh yeah....if she was in a good mood, you could persuade her to sing Beatles songs...Love Me Do being her favourite, and also, she did the best impression ever of Edward Woodward as The Equaliser....'Join me, Edward Woodward after the break, for The Equaliser'. Classic.nnThere are loads of Alexander stories to tell....I am forever grateful for the Labour run Greenwich council for being too tight to spend money on full-time teaching staff, as they provided me and my friends with the best laughs of our school days.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by No Thanks
Our school had a run in with a transsexual supply teacher, who took us for a lesson in 'line dancing'. Line dancing with a ladyboy - an integral part of the curriculum in SW London.
approved Feb 23 2003, submitted Jan 24 2003 by Richard Swan
At my old school we had an annual fete, and every year there would be a raffle. The prizes would be boxes made up of items that parents and others had donated, and there were different categories, such as the 'Chocolate' box, the 'Bathroom' box and, by far the best, the 'Surprise' box, where the mystery contents were wrapped in fancy paper!
One day, walking across the playground, my friend and I saw a nice ripe piece of dogshit; so we got a cereal box, stole some tape and some pink poster paper, and wrapped our piece of shit up, slipping it in to the 'Surprise' box before lunch.
Sadly, we never found out who won the 'Surprise' box, but we hope whoever it was one day visits this wonderful website and realizes it was me that gave them a big shit in a Coco Pops box.

approved Oct 9 2005, submitted Oct 7 2005 by Call Jackson
It was during a science lesson at first school, when my friend Dave lent over too me and said; "Surprise Surprise, your little boobies". The teacher, weary of interruptions, suddenly stopped and asked him to stand up and tell the class what was so important that it had to be said during lesson time.
There was a long silence, before Dave said "Surprise Surprise, miss". She then asked him why he had disrupted the whole lesson just to say "Surprise Surprise".
I am the only person who can recount what was actually said, and now am glad to have finally been able to document it. Thank you.
approved Jun 19 2004, submitted May 15 2004 by Neil K
Execution : 'sus'; very tight, slight lingering on the final 's';
'brains'; long and drawn out, esp. on the 'a'.
Accompany with Joey Deacon (q.v.) face, along with various hand-gestures that an on-looker might associate with someone who has discovered a nest of roaches living under her/his fore-arm skin.
Usage : Primarily an insult used against a peer who has said something superficially innocent, like 'do you have a rubber?'
approved May 13 2003, submitted Dec 19 2002 by Name Withheld
A practice pioneered by a small but evil kid at my school. He would stealthily creep up to someone enjoying their sandwich or chocolate bar, snatch it from them, and then proceed to cram it into his mouth with an expression of evil glee on his evil fucking face.

This continued until the day when Russel, much to his dismay, dropped a virgin Topic bar on the ground.
Inspiration struck me. I searched for and found a dog turd, and dipped the Topic into it, giving it slightly more than a hazelnut in every bite. We then waited until the inevitable swan-dive. Revenge was very very sweet.

The evil kid had the gall to complain to the head of year about this. I explained to Mr Cooper that I had just instructed Russel to dispose of his dogshit-encrusted Topic into the bin lest any young children or animals think to eat it when the swan-dive occurred. Despite Mr Cooper's huge grin and barely stifled laughter, he appeared to believe me.
approved Apr 22 2005, submitted Nov 26 2004 by anonymous user
The most potent tool of any troublemaker in German lessons was the swastika. Our tools were a particular kind of felt tipped pen, and a 50p coin. These pens, with slow-drying ink, were used to draw a reverse swastika on the 50pence piece. Then, after finding a gullible victim, you would tell them that it was possible to test their intelligence by pressing a coin to their forehead and timing how long it took for it to fall off. If executed in a timely manner, the victim would be completely unaware that they were spending the lesson a la Charles Manson with a fucking great swastika displayed proudly on their face.
approved Jul 17 2006, submitted Jun 30 2006 by Name Withheld, anonymous user
My history homework was to draw a map of Europe c. 1936, clearly showing the fascist, communist and democratic countries. Mrs. Shield, my teacher, was so pleased with my swastika (correctly placed in Germany) that she got me to teach the class just how I had created this perfectly formed symbol of potent evil.
My only experience in the profession of teaching has been to spend half an hour instructing a roomful of white school children in the nuances of drawing a swastika. It's a scene that didn't make it onto the recent TV and poster recruitment drive.
approved Oct 11 2005, submitted Oct 5 2005 by Peter Marshall
The pastime of the third row in maths (intelligent but not geeky) was to fill in the grid provided by maths textbooks with swastikas. It wasn't so much that they were all Nazis, but that you could fit exactly 16 on a page and they looked rather pleasing. They also offended those annoying girls with liberal mums who you couldn't even call someone gay or fat in front of. Upset ensued when our books were one day randomly checked by a Jewish supply teacher.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by The Wild
You may say bitch and sod, because a "sod" is a clump of grass, and a "bitch" is a female dog. Bastard, however, is the acid test.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Nick Dimmock
Twat, somewhat less convincingly, can be used to mean a pregnant goldfish. An insult that is in common use in Egypt, along with "may the fleas of a thousand camels infest your armpits".
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Lu Borley, Jon Blyth
The moment a classroom is first exposed to The Macc Lads is hugely edifying. It's a real South Park "Asses Of Fire" moment, when the bar just seems ever so slightly raised.

"She's like a tub of lard / she makes my willy hard"

Sweaty Betty propounds the Rubenesque aesthetic, flying bravely in the face of the modern preoccupation with weight loss. Sadly, this embracing attitude didn't extend to the gay community, in the song "Now He's A Puff".

"He's going to spread AIDS all over the world / Kill the bastard"

Their most recent song of 2006 - 21 years after the seminal "Beer & Sex & Chips n Gravy" explains how different parts of the Macc Lads' bodies are English.

approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by Jon Blyth
The band Anal Cunt allows for more contemporary classroom jaw-dropping. Classic song titles include "I Became A Counselor So I Could Tell Rape Victims They Asked For It".
Log says:
Check out the full track-listing for Anal Cunt's 1999 album, It Just Gets Worse. If you don't laugh ten times, you are not welcome here.
approved Jun 24 2005, submitted Jun 13 2005 by Eddie Ronan
For those intrigued, Track 21 of Anal Cunt's It Just Gets Worse album should read "Hitler Was A Sensitive Man"

Love, from the people at Earache Records who don't think this should have been censored.
approved Sep 27 2012, submitted Sep 18 2012 by anonymous user
In the Fifth Form, rumour had it that somebody on my street had indulged in some heavy 'bottom canoodling' with Sandra.
Thereafter, she was only ever referred to as Sweetcorn Sandra, as it became widely known that upon extraction, he discovered that a piece of sweetcorn had become lodged in his Japs-eye.
approved Apr 15 2005, submitted Apr 18 2004 by anonymous user
At the tender age of 10, Knight Rider is everything. I have never seen the episode in question repeated, but in it the hapless Hoff puts his foot down and utters the immortal line "Pedal to the metal, sweetheart". This must have made a great impression on me, for the next day at breaktime, during a frenetic game of tag in which I made my trademark driving noises, I yelled at the top of my voice "Pedal to the metal, sweetheart" while accelerating away.

The sudden playground silence which greeted the remark was, I suspect, a joy to behold, followed moments later by bewildered chortling, and, a moment after that, unabashed laughter followed by violence. The fact that I was fairly chubby and probably accelerating like a laden barge is, in this instance, merely an aside.
approved Apr 15 2005, submitted Nov 29 2004 by Nick Saalfeld
From most shops you could get these sweets which where on a string of elastic. We fashioned these into weapons by gripping one of the sweets in our front teeth and extending the elastic outwards to aim. Once you bite down on the sweet, half of it will be catapaulted infront of you. With practice, this can be developed into a very useful weapon, especially suited to temporarily disabling someone's eyeball.
approved May 7 2003, submitted Jan 22 2003 by Mark Holdgate
When the transport costs for the coaches taking us to the heated indoor pool became too expensive, our school decided to have us use the pool in the local park - outdoors and unheated. Our sadistic bastard of a PE teacher would hurry us into the icy depths and then disappear into the little wooden hut to smoke, drink tea and take the piss out of us with the parkie-type man who worked there.
On one particularly bleak day, a boy, newly arrived from India, overcome with shock and cold and unable to swim, struggled weakly in the middle of the pool before passing out and rolling over for the last time. My friend Paul came to the rescue and began to swim towards the poor lad. The shouts finally alerted PE dick, who instead of jumping in to help, casually took off his sheepskin coat, trainers and socks and was removing his wristwatch when the boy was finally laid, unconscious beside the pool.
The other park-keepers revived him after a few tense minutes. There was no ambulance, no inquiry, nothing official. The PE teacher even blamed the boy because he couldn't speak English and never told him he couldn't swim. After the incident, Indian-boy-life-saving Paul somehow managed to convince himself that he was now a prime target for the National Front and it was only a matter of time before they would get him.
approved Sep 22 2005, submitted Sep 8 2005 by Horrible Ives
At Crossfields, an all boys public school, swimming lessons involved compulsory nudity.
I wish this wasn't true! The practice ended just after I left, due to the 'self-consciousness of the boys'. No shit. This was in 1985.
A nice twist came when the swimming teacher's daughters (in cossies) were in the pool on some sort of open day thing, and we all dived in to join them, much to their embarrassment, but not ours.
approved May 22 2003, submitted Mar 12 2003 by anonymous user
It was only reading the previous story that it struck me as odd that at my primary school swimming pool, the boys changing rooms had one wall which consisted of a huge, sliding patio-type window. Facing onto the school field. And swimming lessons used to regularly run over into breaktime, when, of course, the whole school was allowed, en masse, onto the playing field. Which, to add insult to injury, was bordered all round by houses.
To this day i cannot think of one possible reason as to why changing rooms in a swimming pool would be required to be glass-sided, aside from the obvious solution that perverts were involved at every level of the design process.
There were also 'helpers', one of whom was my grandfather. Part of the 'helping' remit was to ensure that boys got changed properly and promptly. So any boys resisting the public change would be virtually wrestled into the room, and forcibly dressed in front of the school, and town, by my grandad. Most opted for the easier path.
approved Jan 11 2005, submitted Nov 24 2004 by Louise Jenkins
Stupid idea dreamed up by our swimming teacher so he could have an hour off. The idea was - rather than teach us to swim, he would leave us in the pool and let natural selection sort us out. The Darwinnian approach was helped by the volleyballs that we were allowed to play with. Basically the runt boy was the only child in the pool, and everyone else twatted him with volleyballs from round the edge. It was impossible for him to get out as every time he did he exposed his whole body to the barrage of hard plastic spheres instead of just his head. A terrible situation to find yourself in.
approved Nov 24 2002, submitted Nov 24 2002 by The Wild