The Law of the Playground
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Short for Temporary Speaking Ban. A kind of unilateral jinx, which prevents a person who just came out with a really shit joke speaking for around five minutes.
Five minutes is a rough guide - to be honest, the first time you speak after a temp ban is inviting people to resume belittling you with comments like "aren't you on a temp ban for coming out with shit like that?" and punching. You're better off just starting with a clean slate the next day.
Even worse jokes can result in a perm ban, which is valid for the remainder of the unfunny prick's academic life.
approved Sep 3 2007, submitted Aug 18 2005 by Loki Girl
We had the keyboard that recorded your voice which could then be used to play back all the swear-words, at any pitch you desired. What my mate didn't know was that when the keyboard was left idle for some time the memeory bank would discharge itself in a low slow tone. This happened to be when the class was now quiet after practising, as a Yamaha keyboard responded to its neglect by croaking an angry "fffffuuuuuuccccccckkkkkkk yyyyyyoooooouuuuu".
approved Sep 3 2007, submitted Nov 17 2005 by Mark Hornsby
A grille-covered drain that was the terminus of a large-diameter grey plastic pipe outside the staff room.

Completely innocuous and unlikely to cause harm or even dirty your shoes, but having been given the nickname, being shoved into that deadly zone by an opportunistic fellow pupil would earn the unsuspecting victim many hours of bewildering taunting for having breached the "Poo Pot".

Possibly speculated to be the source of the "fleas" that everyone was so terrified of inheriting by any kind of glancing contact with the wrong sort of person (girls).
approved Aug 30 2007, submitted Jan 10 2007 by anonymous user
This variation of the Aunt Nellie rhyme is for a man called Mike, and dispenses entirely with the frivolous whimsy of the biscuit tin.
Mike, Mike
Does your mother ride a bike?
With her finger up her ring
Ding a ling ling.
Is it the bike going ding a ling ling, or is that the noise Mike's mum makes when she sticks her finger up her ring? We never found out.
approved Aug 30 2007, submitted Nov 29 2005 by Medibot Evans
Our teacher hadn't turned up, so we were making a steadily increasing amount of noise. We eventually attracted the attention of Mr. Cowley, who asked me to report that a supply teacher was required.
I refused a couple of times, showing off, until Cowley became irritated, and threatened me with detention. So I slouched off, grumbling, to find the year head. As I walked past Cowley, and in full view of the class, he smacked my arse.
I was fifteen at the time and horrified for 2 similar, but distinct reasons:
  1. Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse.
  2. Bender Cowley had just smacked my arse in front of all my mates.
He may well have meant it as a gesture to snap me out of my slouch and speed me up, but to everyone in the class, it was a private, tender moment of bum-fondling between two very gay lovers.
They proceeded to draw cartoons of Cowley doing various foul things to me, culminating in a cartoon on the main notice board, of me being fisted by Cowley whilst wearing a bondage mask and a speech bubble protruding from my mouth declaring that I didn't want him to use any lubricant.
approved Aug 30 2007, submitted Nov 14 2005 by captive anus
The new name chosen by our maths teacher in the mid 80s when it became apparent that teaching at a secondary school might become problematic with the name Mr Ades.
In our attempts to bring you only the truest stories of playground cruelty, we searched the online phone book for Adeses. London gives a paltry two results. However, they're popping up like Karposi's Sarcoma in Surrey , with a massive dose of 13 Ades. Leeds is Ades-Free for now, but with this many Gays, it's only a matter of time. Lucy Hannaford, our research leads us to believe you. Congratulations!
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Aug 22 2005 by Lucy Hannaford
To the tune of Free, by Ultra Nate

My momma's got no money,
My daddy's on the dole,
They sent me off to Netto,
to nick a sausage roll.

I'm running home, with my Netto sausage roll,
I'm running home, with my Netto sausage roll.
Freed from starvation, with my Netto sausage roll.


The reason we found this funny was a combination of factors; first, the idiocy of stealing from the cheapest shop. Secondly, the lack of ambition in the theft; a single sausage roll, held aloft like the Olypmic Torch on the long run home. Thirdly, because we were from Barnsley, where people still throw rocks at the moon.
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Jun 2 2005 by George Harrison
"Cack" was our word for excrement - solid, liquid, cold or still steaming. Immortalised in the nursery rhyme,

Doctor Foster went to Gloucester,
In a shower of cack.
The dozy twat forgot his hat,
And it all ran down his back.

At least on this journey he was spared the indignity of stepping into a puddle of shit that went right up to his middle; although this must have been before that occasion, considering his oath never to return to Gloucester at the conclusion of that episode.

In fact, considering his adverse reaction to just getting his legs wet in the classic rhyme, you'd imagine a faecal downpour running over his head and face, before trickling its moist brown path along his spine would have caused a much earlier embargo on Gloucester-going, that might have spared him the unfortunate puddle incident.

I bet he liked it, the Hippocratic scatwizard.
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Sep 29 2005 by anonymous user
The names of special schools make for strangely credible christian names; For instance, Carlton Digby, Beck Meadows, and at a push, Swanwick Delves.

Anyone would think that the founders of these mong sanctuaries are trying to give normal schoolkids insult ammunition.

Hazel Hurst is a good one for ladies who "might be better off with a more vocational education".
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted May 10 2005 by anonymous user
Coming from Croydon, the "wittiest" (and only) roadname change came in the form of Compton road, which some brainbox renamed Oompton (well done, lads). However, one of the local pubs got attacked by drunks one night, and the following morning "The Leslie Arms" had it's removeable letters rearranged into "Shit Arse".

Puerile and slightly anti-corporate readers may also have noticed that the letters of Starbuck's Coffee can similarly be rearranged to spell "Best Of Arse Fuck". I'm not saying anyone should steal into Luton town centre at 3:30 in the morning and do this, but if anyone did, I'd suck their balls for a year - Log
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Sep 18 2005 by anonymous user
... when Harry's around,
or you might get a penis up your bum,
don't be silly, he hasn't got a willy,
you must have mistook it for his thumb!

As far as I'm aware, Harry had a fully functioning penis, but the very fact I find myself reflecting on a penis at this developed stage in my life identifies me as a bender, so I wouldn't trust my word as far as I could suck my own arse out.
approved Aug 20 2007, submitted Jun 10 2005 by Martin Tatum
Hi my name is Matt Brana-Martin, out of the pop group 'The Slides'. Can I just say that racism is really bad, and that I don't condone any of these jokes.
I expect if Geldof or Bono saw these jokes, they'd be well upset, and so anyone posting them would never get to play Live Aid 3 or anything like that. And that's why I would never submit those sort of 'jokes' to a website such as this. Oh, AND because of the 'racism' thing, obviously.
We've probably got an album, or a single out or something, so please buy that, or come and see us live if we're currently 'on the road' - that's pop music speak for 'doing a tour' - we don't just stand about on a road!
But don't forget about the racism thing, please (or the buying of our stuff).
Thanks.
Matt Brana-Martin
approved Aug 9 2007, submitted Apr 19 2006 by Matt Brana-Martin
1) Find unpopular/poor/ginger kid and approach him, smiling in unthreatening manner.
2) Ask victim to tell a joke; watch his face light up at this unexpected act of social acceptance.
3) No matter how funny the punchline, DO NOT LAUGH, instead remain silent, look him in eye and hold chin in hand in quizzical manner.
4) Wait until victim shows signs of confusion or discomfort, then begin pointing at him and chanting: "Shame! Shame! Shame!"
5) Watch as crowd gathers, all pointing and shouting "SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!"; becoming a seething mob, creating a bayying and increasingly hysterical VORTEX of shame, until victim cries and/or pisses pants.
approved Aug 9 2007, submitted Apr 21 2006 by Malibu Doghonkey
The reverse of the Silent But Deadly was the 'D.B.S' (Dangerous Bottom Syndrome), where the farter tried to make his guff more stealthy by tightly squeezing his bumcheeks together.
However, this often only resulted in a high pitched squeaker or the farter shitting their pants.
approved Jul 20 2007, submitted Feb 28 2006 by Jelly Tot
The rumour mill worked overtime for this one:

Rufus once bit his lip in front of the school vicar.
And thus:
Rufus said 'fuck' in front of the vicar
Begat...
Rufus told the vicar to fuck off.
Begat...
Rufus pushed the vicar and told him to fuck off.
Begat...
Rufus twatted the actual Pope.
approved Jul 20 2007, submitted Mar 8 2006 by anonymous user
This seems as good a forum as any to state; David Craig, once and for all, I don't care what your mum says my mum said in 1982, I did NOT have stitches on my cock when I was cicumcised.
approved Jul 20 2007, submitted Apr 29 2006 by Drew Styles
Basically involved saying "your mum" and repeating what had just been said.

For instance:
Teacher: "..and that's how Jesus died on the cross."
Pupil: "Your mum died on the cross."

Teacher: "Can anybody tell me what happens when you mix these chemicals together?"
Pupil: "Your mum can tell me what happens when you mix these chemicals together."

Hours of fun for all the family!
approved Jul 14 2007, submitted Jun 26 2006 by Name Withheld
I performed a version of this in an art class, which was entited 'the Jill Dando'. It was not strictly a mime because as I was lying on the floor, pretending to be dead, I was also screaming "I aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAMMm Jill Dando".
Upon seeing this Mr Addicot informed me that I was "Sick"... I reminded him that he was the one who wanted to "...give Billie Piper more than one".
approved Jun 30 2007, submitted Mar 1 2006 by Luke Smith
Richard Snape was an unlucky child. He'd been 'blessed' with simian looks and intellect, a name that rhymed with "ape", but neither the brawn nor courage of his hairy counterparts.

Every music lesson was sheer hell for the poor lad; the top three classes of the junior school used to share a weekly music lesson, which involved the deputy head thumping the piano whilst we all sat in rows mumbling to various 'classic' singalongs. The exception to this was "Let's All Go Down The Strand", in which the "HAVE A BANANA" refrain was sung as rousingly as possible with all eyes falling on Richard.

Last time I saw him he was working in a 'budget-conscious' shoe shop.
approved Jun 30 2007, submitted Jan 23 2006 by Yak Spit
Tony took time out of his busy schedule torturing small mammals to share this pearl of two-wheeled wisdom.

My bike made pain. The spinning, lumpy motor cross tyres when spinning at full revs created such a lethal weapon that its victims eyes were a sight to behold as henchmen forced their tear stained faces towards it. All the time I cranked the pedals faster like the winding of a Spanish Inquisition musical box. The whole torture was made all the more pleasurable by the dynamo attached to my rear tyre which would make the bike lights glow brightly when the revolutions were high enough to remove skin!
approved Jun 29 2007, submitted Mar 2 2006 by Tony Green