The Law of the Playground
the pupil report of
Andy Mansh
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A planet discovered by William Herschel on March 13, 1781, and named 'Uranus' by him, for a laugh. An absolute comedy staple of geography lessons, and by far the funniest of all the planets. Examples of usage include:
"Miss! Last night I looked through a telescope and I could see Uranus!"
"Miss! I know Saturn has rings, but what about the ring of Uranus?"
"Miss! Is Uranus part of a constellation? Is it Great Bare or is it the Big Dipper?"
Recently, teachers have tried to convince us that it is pronounced 'Err-en-us', but their efforts are likely to be thwarted by the announcement that planet 'X' is to be officially recognised, and re-named 'Stinkycornhole'.
approved Sep 23 2006, submitted Sep 22 2006 by anonymous user, Andy Mansh
Easy now; it's only the quarterly fat teacher update!

Gotty Gotty has written to let us know that he
"Had a female I.T. teacher who was so fat that she once took a week off and when she came back it was revealed she'd been to have a baby.
She was so fat that nine months pregnancy was total unreadable under her vast bulk."

Rast Clat says: "Our R.E teacher, Mrs Hart, was so huge that when writing on the blackboard she would rub everything off with her huge boobies as she went, which confused her no end. She would also wear a bright yellow dress in the summer which, not only made her look like a tennis ball, but was also see-through, much to the disgust of everyone who set eyes on the massive beast."

Finally, an anonymous user wrote to say "My school must have been unique in not having any truly massive teachers. Perhaps the stairways were too weak/narrow to support them."

Er, quick question, anonymous user: do you find that people often yawn right in your fucking face, you pointless twat?
approved Mar 30 2008, submitted Jan 28 2006 by Andy Mansh
I got my first stirrings when Mrs Ramsay bent over to cut a large sheet of sugar paper I was holding, and I got an unencumbered view of her tits down her top. I was 8. Later that year, sex was explained to me when I asked Lee Davies what he was referring to when he sang a song containing the lyrics '...And the hairs of her Dicky-Dido went down to her knees'.
approved Feb 28 2006, submitted Jan 26 2006 by Andy Mansh
Casual insults hurled at those children who were pigeon toed. Those whose feet were only mildly inward pointing were dubbed 'Ricky', short for 'rickets'(the condition caused by not eating enough yam flavoured sailors); the more severely afflicted were called 'Nobby', after the rhyming slang for haemorroids (Nobby Stiles: piles). Evidently, the child's imagined bumgrapes were so massive, that the only relief to be had was to walk around with his buttocks as far apart as possible, resulting in that unmistakable 'Elvis Costello' stagger.
approved Dec 3 2005, submitted Oct 18 2005 by Andy Mansh
You can, according to my better-informed schoolmates, tell whether a girl is a virgin or not by whether her knees rub together when she walks. If they don't then she has undoubtedly been riding the entire town and should be buried in a Y-shaped coffin, the dirty little whore.
Let's take Michelle McManus. Her knees definitely rub together when she walks, because she is fat. As it is a well known fact that it is harder to pull fat, ugly, birds than slim attractive ones*, and because, well, NO-ONE wants to shag a fat lass**, this must be true.
*Unless you are a fat ugly bloke.
**Unless you are a fat ugly bloke.
approved Jun 18 2005, submitted Jun 17 2005 by Em Bird, Andy Mansh
After listening to a fantasist regale us with tall tales, we would sing the theme tune to Storybook International. This was an ITV programme with animated opening titles of a suspiciously elegant bard. His beautiful singing would attract the attention of a fox, until he transformed without warning into a naked black man, scaring the shit out of his vulpine chum. Look, I'm not making this up.

Anyway, when he sings about his name in many countries, that's your opportunity to work in the insult. For example: if Roly claimed that his brother had a fight with Wolf from The Gladiators, you would sing:

I'm the Storyteller and my story must be told,
In Germany I'm Johannes, in England I am John,
In Cheltenham I'm Roly, and I'm a lying cunt.


If the liar was actually called John or, God forbid, Johannes, the last line could simply be repaced by a mongoloid impression, and a celebratory flid flippers dance.
approved Nov 21 2011, submitted May 16 2005 by Andy Mansh
Remember when cash machines first came out? They had opaque perspex barriers that slid down to cover the screen and keyboard when not in use.
This was to prevent vanadlism, but as they were giving cards to everybody, it simply meant that vandals could make a right mess, then hide their handiwork until the next customer came along.
You would put your card into the slot, and the barrier would rise like a theatre curtain. To reveal a 'tableau' of greenies, marker pen and chip-shop Pies smeared all over the interior.
Today, that sort of thing would win the Turner. *Sits back, puffs on pipe, contented that he has had a dig at modern art, but vaguely annoyed he didn't get to mention split-in-half cows.*
approved Nov 11 2004, submitted Oct 25 2004 by Andy Mansh
There was a boy at my junior school who, if you stamped your foot in his general direction and went "Yargh", even at some considerable distance, would curl up into a ball on the floor with a look of sheer terror on his face.
Only now can I assume that he was being abused at home every night, and in fact I was contributing to an existence more miserable than I can ever dream of.
If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a victim.
approved Oct 21 2004, submitted Oct 18 2004 by Andy Mansh
Andy McNally : an oafish lump of a child. His squirrel game : to take a squirrel that he'd found outside his house, take it into a field and repeatedly throw the roadkill as high in the air as possible.
approved Mar 30 2004, submitted Mar 18 2004 by Andy Mansh
This was a kind of 'Tag' game, played by hurling a tennis ball at someone's head from shockingly short range to make them 'it'.
As throws from behind were perfectly legal, it was quite possible not to realise you were playing until you felt a stunning blow to your occipital.
It was soon decided that tennis balls simply weren't murderous enough, and so they were replaced firstly by cricket balls, which themselves were succeded (on account of not having 'enough corners') by large cubes of solid pine stolen from the woodwork room.
Luckily, the game was outlawed before someone took the decision that lumps of timber simply weren't 'Ninja throwing star-y enough'.
approved Jul 13 2004, submitted Mar 17 2004 by Andy Mansh
Mr Carnell taught us that the rudest thing you can say in French is "Et ta soeur!"
Translation: "And your sister!" It apparently worked best as a reply to someone insulting you; i.e. "You're a tosser!" "So's your sister!"
I suspect that this is the rudest thing you can say in french. IF YOU'RE FIVE YEARS OLD.

approved Mar 5 2004, submitted Feb 24 2004 by Andy Mansh
A brief round-up of the hair options available to the child who considers themself special...
Toners
Suitable for Duran/Japan fans, these came in sachets, the contents of which you 'washed in'. They lasted for between zero and one washes and came in the following tones: 'Mahogony', 'Copper', 'Fox' and 'Creosote'.
Sun-In
Suitable for Wham fans, sprayed onto towel dry hair, it gave you that 'just been to Club Tropicana' look. At Club Tropicana not only are drinks free, but people have hair like hay, coloured in with yellow felt-tip pens.
Henna
Suitable for Goths with crusty leanings. Users normally stank of patchouli.
Spray-In Colour
Strictly for the mummy's boys who weren't allowed to do anything even semi-permanent to their hair, these came in ridiculous fluorescent colours and earned the user no respect whatsoever. Nobody likes a tourist, especially "wacky" fuckers who rinsed their hair in the sink at the end of the day, so they don't get told off at home.
Proper Permanent Hair Dye
Two colours - Black. Or Blue/black. Can you hear me calling, Mari-aaa-eee-aaa-eee-anne?
approved Oct 11 2004, submitted Feb 21 2004 by Andy Mansh
Tell 'em what to do

Have a wank, do a poo!
approved Feb 22 2004, submitted Feb 21 2004 by Andy Mansh
Joey Deacon, the Alpha. John's Not Mad, the Omega.
But there was a third person to whom we turned during the 80's to take the piss out of, through fear and dread. Thanks to Desmond Wilcox's 'The Visit' programme, we were introduced to the third member of this holy trinity in 1980:
David Lopez a.k.a. 'The Boy David'.
It was important that it was pointed out in the title that he WAS a boy; when first discovered by a holidaying plastic surgeon, he had no more than a big hole in his face with two eyes on top. To eat, he sucked lollipops between his tongue and the base of his brain - a process which could be mimicked by slapping food into a friend's face and shouting "NNNNNGGGGGGG... DAVID LOPEZ!!"
Here is a picture of David Lopez today, after more than 100 operations. On the right, note the moderately attractive woman taking the piss.
approved Jul 12 2004, submitted Dec 23 2003 by Andy Mansh
But Chakka Khan.
approved Jan 5 2004, submitted Dec 23 2003 by Andy Mansh
Said, slackmouthed and emotionlessly, in reply to patently unfunny joke/remark. Preceded by: Oh. Ha ha.
approved Dec 20 2003, submitted Dec 18 2003 by Andy Mansh
The pinnacle of this practice was:
SANDWICH: Ham & mustard on white bread.
WITH: Beef Monster Munch (sadly no longer with us).
DUNKED INTO: Chicken & Mushroom Pot Noodle.

Lloyd Grossman eats these. He told me.

-Imagine how Lloyd pronounces the word "monster". Brrr, horrible.
approved Nov 4 2003, submitted Nov 1 2003 by Andy Mansh
My brother and I were bought a ZX80, ZX81, A ZX spectrum and a C64. He is now an enormously well paid computer programmer, whereas the best I can do is submit my pointless meanderings to Playground Law and lament the pathetic excuse that is my so-called career.

You have the valid excuse of being deprived. I simply couldn't be fucked.
approved Oct 27 2003, submitted Oct 25 2003 by Andy Mansh
My friend Tina's boyfriend was in a band who were called 'Shy-Talk'. Very 80's. The venue of their first gig rang him up to ask the name of the band for the posters. They - of course - misheard, and Cheltenham was awash with 'Shite Hawk' posters. Bonus.
approved Apr 13 2005, submitted Oct 10 2003 by Andy Mansh
Apparently, you could put clingfilm over the toilet at a party, so that peoples' poo and wee went everywhere. Personally, I can't see that people wouldn't notice.
I preferred the old 'empty a bottle of washing up liquid into the cistern' trick, which was lush.
approved Oct 21 2003, submitted Oct 7 2003 by Andy Mansh