The Law of the Playground
the pupil report of
Jon Blyth
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Often, boys will believe that girls only have one hole - a universal hole for everything. A hole from which drops piss that stinks a bit like poo. And poo that has the golden glisten of piss and babies.
As our understanding inevitablly developed, we discovered that the front hole had ANOTHER two holes in it, like women were a damn Mandlebrot set of ever more specific holes.
One boy who clung to the single-hole theory also believed that a vibrator was a kind of footspa, and that you could ask your hairdresser for a blowjob.
approved Oct 4 2004, submitted Dec 20 2003 by anonymous user, Jon Blyth
Should a member of the FAP meet a member of the FBI (Federal Breast Inspectorate), then a long-term and mutually beneficial relationship might well result.
approved Dec 20 2003, submitted Dec 20 2003 by Jon Blyth
A sensetive - if somewhat addling to a child - way of describing someone with a terminal illness.
approved Dec 17 2003, submitted Dec 17 2003 by Name Withheld, Jon Blyth
Or, more specifically, her name, his name, where they met, what he said, what she said, and what happened - the 'consequences'.
Here are two example games which pay homage to the hilarious differences between boys and girls. Like a proper stand-up comedian!
girl's gameboy's game
his namebradhitler
her namekatiemrs. hitler
where they metin a meadowup your bum
what he said"i think you're special""give us a biscuit"
what she said"i am riding a pony""who farted?"
consequences"they giggled behind their palms and secretly promised never to leave each other""they turned into zombies and bit each other's faces off and went to a fancy dress party as each other"


approved Feb 2 2004, submitted Dec 12 2003 by Name Withheld, Jon Blyth
From the same school as are you looking at me or chewing a brick?, the punchline to which - either way you lose your teeth - I didn't know when I was young, so I assumed it was something to do with the face you pulled when you were staring at the person. But, if you looked at someone and pulled a face like you were chewing a brick, that would probably mean that the other person was really ugly, so it made no sense that that other person would draw attention to your disgusted reaction to him.
I understand now, but this was a real worry to me at the time.
approved Dec 12 2003, submitted Dec 12 2003 by Jon Blyth
That chip which appears on every tenth plate, with an end both greeny-blackened and foul-tasting. The discovery of the turd chip leads to this conversation.
A : Want a chip?
B : How unexpectedly kind. Thanks.
A : Here you go.
B : Er, not that one. It's the turd chip.
A : Go on, eat it. Nature made it. It's normal.
B : Well you eat it then.
A : No way, it's got AIDS.
It would then be thrown at a poor boy, and if it hit him, he would be deemed to have eaten it.
approved Jun 21 2004, submitted Dec 10 2003 by Humphrey Astley, Jon Blyth
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
Well, it seems that you can't believe that someone called Gayvid Dadd got off so lightly...
"Sums up the Welsh, that. You get a manna-from- heaven name like 'Gayvid Dadd', and the best you sheep-shagging lackwits can come up with is 'sounds a bit like God'". (sane man)
Bit racist, Sane Man, but a point fairly made. Matt Fasham takes the baton...
"With a name like Gayvid Dadd, I'm amazed that anyone bothered to take the piss out of the fact that his name sounded a bit like 'jod' or 'god'. That name is already so pregnant with potential humour that it has burst right out of its maternity dress like a huge beached whale crashing through a tarpaulin. Unless, of course, Gayvid wasn't his real name. Maybe it was David, and had already been corrupted. Hadn't thought of that. Even so." (Matt Fasham)
I thought I'd check for Gayvid Dadd on the internet, and the only result outside of this website is this photo, titled "Gayvid Dadd Is Possessed by Satan".

So there you go. We have a Gayvid Dadd (or a David Gadd, which seems depressingly likely), whose only bullying - it would seem - was to be called "God".
Are YOU a Gayvid Dadd? The LotP team would like to talk to you. Please get in touch immediately.
approved Jul 12 2004, submitted Oct 29 2003 by Matt Fasham, sane man, Jon Blyth
Please don't take this entry as an invitation to tell us about any adult bumshits you done or done see. So, if you found a poo while working for the Guardian (nice story, thanks), or simply crimped off a monster this morning and wanted to share (thanks, * Penski), they probably won't make it in.
Take it to the Forum.
approved Dec 17 2003, submitted Oct 29 2003 by Jon Blyth
Let me run with this one, Slab Ghost. A while ago I was curious about whether this was an urban myth, myself. It had all the hallmarks; I'd never met anyone who'd played it, but everyone seemed to know someone who had. So I asked 1866 men how close they had got to this near-legendary game. Here are the results.

Poll graphic taken from OUTintheUK
approved Oct 17 2003, submitted Oct 17 2003 by Jon Blyth
I'm more inclined to think that this is a reference to the gay phenomenon of glory holes, where gay man stick their willies through holes in toilet walls and another man hops on in whatever fashion he fancies. Sometimes there are drawings around glory holes that make it look like your willy is an anteater's nose. This isn't very erotic for the man who is sucking it off, so he might put his bum on it instead.
This is how I understand glory holes, by Log.
approved Oct 11 2003, submitted Oct 9 2003 by Jon Blyth
And another thing, if I ask you a really easy question, then say the answer at the same time, then shout JINX at you, don't say "well why did you ask me if you know the answer, and why did you just shout jinx?"
Because if you DO say that, you'll be talking whilst jinxed, and by GOD, I will punch you. (In the arm.)
approved Apr 21 2005, submitted Oct 9 2003 by Jon Blyth
I'm submitting this because I keep trying to jinx people, and they either don't know what I'm talking about, or stubbornly refuse to stop talking until I say their full name.
So, this is the deal, right? If we say the same thing at the same time, I get to say jinx. And that means you can't talk until I say your name. If you do talk, I get to punch your arm. OK? So don't look all hurt and angry when I punch you. You broke a jinx, you deserve it.
Consider this posting a formal notice, served to the world.
approved Apr 21 2005, submitted Oct 9 2003 by Jon Blyth
Also amusingly stands for Arse Injected Death Sentence. Combined with Gay standing for Got AIDS Yet?, I'm surprised the term GAIDSY was never embraced by the homosexual community like "queer" and "faggot" have been.
approved Oct 9 2003, submitted Oct 8 2003 by Paul Tovey, 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
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
A very rich, and very homosexual man who lives in a palace made of rubies and slaps his face in surprise at the misadventures of his subjects. (See also sultan sheik)
approved Oct 2 2003, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth
A simple ruse. Suggest a competition to see who can hit the other person the softest. Allow the victim to go first. After he has lightly tapped you on the shoulder, you let him have it with a perfect dead-arm, before informing him that he has won.
Warning. This trick is EMINENTLY REVERSIBLE. It is probably wise to ask if your friend has ever played "softest punch" before. Remember - they get the first punch.
approved Oct 2 2003, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth
Based on a Department of Health advert in New Zealand, where a mentally handicapped child sits on a swing, rubbing his eye, and suffering from Rubella. Thereby, any evidence of one element (stupidity, rubbing eye, having rubella) would be met with the other two. For instance, if someone gets a basic question wrong (what is one times one), you rub your eye and shout rubella at them.
Conversely, if someone rubs their eye with their forefinger, it is a sign that they are stupid, and have rubella. If someone actually had rubella, presumably they'd be rubbing their eye and being retarded like in the advert, so we never bothered with that one.
approved Apr 23 2005, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth
After coming out as gay to some people, they will sometimes feel the urge, as part of a bonding process and demonstration of acceptance, to confide something back in you. This often consists of "I've thought about it myself", or "I've got a gay mate / brother / hat". One of my flatmates, however, came back with the revelation that he'd slept with his brother, which initially didn't bother me, until he elaborated that they'd done it recently, that his brother was around eight years older than him, that he'd enjoyed it, and that there nothing stopping him from doing it again. I still didn't really mind, as my laissez-faire morality saw that they weren't going to breed monsters, so they're not harming anyone. So, I kept quiet until my flatmate insisted that we should meet each other. Why that would have been appropriate, I cannot guess. Perhaps his brother had been complaining about how he never gets to shag anyone except the family, and fancied a change.
Well, fuck me if he didn't look like Bob Carolgees. My tolerance collapsed - it was all too much for me. Even my slack, slack morality couldn't tolerate shagging Bob Carolgees. I told everyone I knew, and felt immediately better for it. A secret shared is a secret halved - by the time I'd finished, the individual portions of secret were microscopic.
But no less sweet. It's not every day you get to betray a confidence so humiliating.
approved Oct 2 2003, submitted Oct 2 2003 by Jon Blyth