The Law of the Playground
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We had a Mr. Emerson, who taught maths and physics.

The look on his face while he was using a calculator was something which his entire class shall carry to our graves. Yknow how the stereotypcial paedo leers at young children? He did that to calculators.
approved Feb 4 2008, submitted Jan 4 2007 by anonymous user
My mate Rat and I went to school with a kid called Matthew Davies. Due to his fey mannerisms, girly hair and weedy physique we called him "Pune".
After several years of taunting he broke down and talked to his parents about it. They suggested that he should stick up for himself and tell us he didnt want to be called Pune any more. The conversation went like this:

Pune: I dont want to be called Pune any more.
Us: Oh?
Pune: From now on I want you to call me "the Hornet".

I believe thats when I threw a rock at his head.
approved Feb 4 2008, submitted Nov 13 2006 by Simon Edwards
"Masai Cattle"

The oft-repeated phrase that would make Nigel Burrows and only Nigel Burrows weep with laughter. The source of merriment was a Geography textbook photo showing a herd of the skinniest, saddest cows anyone had ever seen. The Masai, of course, use cows as currency so will own as many as possible, regardless of their near-death condition.
approved Jan 22 2008, submitted Jan 27 2006 by Cam Winstanley
The legend Mrs Burns needs to iron her clothes, hastily sprayed on a canteen wall exterior, is surely a nominee for the crappest piece of graffiti ever.

Over to you, readers.
approved Jan 19 2008, submitted Jul 25 2006 by Mark Hildore
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
Miss Clarke was a music teacher at my old school in Central Scotland. Her taste in clothes (black mini skirts, tight black sweaters, knee length boots) and her reputation for seducing 6th years SHOULD have ensured her popularity, but she was highly strung and somewhat given to random bouts of corporal punishment (yes, I AM that old, thank you very much).
Music lessons with her usually consisted of us singing quasi-folk tunes to her piano accompaniment. One classic was Westering Home, the first stanza of which song runs as follows:

Westering home with a song in the air,
Light in the eye and its goodbye to care.

Naturally, the entire class bellowed out "SHITE!" instead of "light", precipitating the biggest piano-lid-slamming, spittle-flecked screaming session the world has ever witnessed.
approved Jan 19 2008, submitted Dec 7 2005 by Gus Glen
I'm Luke Smith, and I don't remember this.

Well, that could be due to either a) the impact of the book leaving you with brain damage, or b) you being A DIFFERENT LUKE SMITH. If any other readers are called Luke Smith, but don't remember this either, please don't bother to let us know. - Matt
approved Jan 19 2008, submitted Mar 1 2006 by Luke Smith
Aged 7 or 8, myself and Wayne Twigg found ourselves under a bench in his dad's greenhouse with his dad's rude magazine. Never having seen a nude lady before, we were both rather taken aback by our first sight of an adult lady's spreadeagled flaps. "It looks like a horrible-looking blancmange" cried Wayne, visibly shocked.
Much as I've tried, I've never been able to get this connection out of my head.
approved Jan 19 2008, submitted Feb 23 2006 by captive anus
Matty Johnson was visiting his equally vaucous and football-obsessed would-be criminal friend David Warburton one night at his home. Warby, keen to impress his friend, set about beating up his younger brother at various points during the evening.
At one point, Warby went off on his own to continue the job and had been gone some time. But when Matty went to investigate, what he actually heard was Warby's brother, ever so faintly saying, "stop it, David. It hurts", behind their closed bedroom door.
Naturally, it was assumed that Warby fucked his brother regularly and to commemorate this discovery, Billy Brown brought in a tape of that song that goes "he's my brother" and played it in the form room.
approved Nov 23 2007, submitted Jun 8 2006 by James Cooper
A girl who sat near me in 11th grade English came into class one day, looking rather sweaty and pale. As the teacher read from Tom Sawyer, this girl began to moan low like a wounded animal. Suddenly, her eyes rolled up into her head, she barked like a seal and then passed out, her face slapping down on the desk in front of her. But as soon her head hit the desk, she let off a fart like a goddamned foghorn. A fart which smelt like death.
approved Nov 23 2007, submitted Apr 20 2006 by Name Withheld
This is a new game at our school which involves getting as much sweat from your ass and sack as possible and randomly rubbing it in one of your mates faces.

A game with no winners, only losers. - Matt
approved Nov 20 2007, submitted Aug 15 2005 by bob johnson
In the 1980s, Northampton Borough Council workers drove around in yellow vans with 'NBC' on the side. We would therefore taunt the school fleabags by chanting "your dad works for Northampton Bum Cleaners".
Twenty years later, I now make a living cleaning bums in a Northampton old peoples home. The irony is sickening.
approved Nov 20 2007, submitted Dec 20 2006 by Mark P
Ms Williams and Ms Woozley are both correct. Geordie Racer was one of the classic stories in the "Look and Read" series. The genius BBC marketing department obviously saw the opportunities in the TV/gaming tie-in and developed a rubbish 4-colour blocky graphics spin-off game for the BBC computer.

The game can be downloaded here, along with other big name titles such as Suburban Fox and Martello Tower. No sign of Granny's Garden, unfortunately.

approved Oct 23 2007, submitted Oct 4 2006 by anonymous user
I don't remember much about the plot, either, apart from one scene in the first episode where 'egg' was mis-spelled 'eeg' in an ad in a local newsagent's window.
approved Oct 23 2007, submitted Oct 1 2006 by Neal Vomit
In the last year of primary school we all went to an adventure camp, and there was much japery in the dorm. In my absence, two of my mates urinated onto my pillow from the top of the neighbouring bunk. It had dried by the time I put my head down to sleep, and I tried to convince myself that the smell was wafting up from beneath my duvet, but you can tell the smell of your own piss, and I had a pretty good idea of who the culprits were. Needless to say I didn't speak to them for the rest of the holiday.
approved Oct 23 2007, submitted May 16 2006 by Pierre French
A poor guy in our school died in a flat fire and we got a brand spanking new jungle gym to play on, with a little plaque that said it was dedicated to poor Jimmy, so we could remember how horribly poor Jimmy died when we were playing space pirates.
approved Oct 23 2007, submitted Jul 13 2005 by Name Withheld
In an attempt to engineer a bit of Beano-style slapstick, I filled a bucket of water and rested it on top of the Biology classroom doorframe - and sat back to await the arrival of Mr Blissett.
Unfortunately, things quickly went awry on Mr Blissett's arrival, as instead of seeing him drenched, class 3G bore witness to him being knocked out by a full bucket of water falling but not tipping, cracking his forehead open on the floor as he crumpled under the weight. The water handily spilled from the bucket so as to wash up the blood from the spouting wound in his forehead, and I earned a one week suspension.
Fortunately, Blissett was back at work a week later with only his sense of humour badly damaged.
approved Oct 14 2007, submitted Feb 16 2006 by Jason T
So, I was walking down the road when the fucking funniest thing ever happened: A Teenage girl got stabbed in the face! She fell over bleeding, quite alot, probably to death. I almost pissed myself. What made it funnier was that this girl was a paki! Aaah, Good Times!

Thanks for that Scarlett! Not strictly a playground anecdote, but we do strive to represent the full spectrum of reader opinion.
approved Oct 14 2007, submitted Jan 3 2007 by Scarlett Hedrinks
Mr Moretto, AKA Mario The Legend, was the best year head we've ever, ever had.

My form tutor at the time was a disgusting creation with absolutely no redeeming features and a peculiar notion of what should be punished and what shouldn't. Basically, I should be punished and the rest of the class shouldn't.

We had many an argument, and every time she went to Mr Moretto and complained. She would then send me to see him too. I was in his office once and he said, in his brilliantly stereotypical and funny Italian accent, "She piss me off too, but we both have to put up with her eh? Just deal with it for my sake, OK? I cannot stand the bitch."

I have worshipped the man ever since. I also managed to trick a boy into saying "fuck off" really loudly in Italian in his lesson. Mr Moretto got furious and sent him out, then as soon as the door shut he started giggling and said "He tell me fuck off!" in a delighted tone.

approved Oct 13 2007, submitted Mar 10 2006 by Meri Powell
That bloody PJ & Duncan song was the bane of my life for a few weeks in year 8. One clever classmate (step forward Richard Chambers) changed it to involve my surname. I had a friend called Robert. Ha ha, I was gay. Here comes the song:
Let's get ready to Whittle
Let's get ready to Whittle
Watch him bum the Rob
Watch him bum the Rob
Watch him bum the Rob

I'm sure Haines' scrapyard feels blessed by Richard's working presence.
approved Oct 13 2007, submitted Feb 14 2006 by Name Withheld