A religious alternative to crossing the streams.

To a male Christian:
A : "Do you love Jesus?"
B : "Yes"
C : "AAAAH AAAAAH UUURGH EEWW EEEEE YOU'RE GAY!!!!!!!"
Also consider "Do you have Jesus In You?"

The Bank of Jerusalem had it's South London branch in the playground of St Catherine's, Morden.
One day after it had rained, a few people, destined to become founders of this esteemed financial institution decided to rid themselves of their coppers/ loose change by throwing them into a particularly large, muddy puddle. It was then christened 'The Bank of Jerusalem' under the apprehension that it would never need to provide anyone with a withdrawal. This went on for a few days, the bank's profits were on the verge of �5, as various investors showed off their stauts by making deposits of ever increasing sizes. The puddle was diminishing in size as time went by, thereby becoming all the more muddy, as it's lower depths began to be revealed.
Sean Garrity obviously saw himself as an enterprising blagger and decided (one breaktime)to liberate the funds from the BoJ to the horror of it's customers and all gathered. The lucre may have been filthy, but it was his !

This is a game used to lure out the Jews (in the boy's school sense of the word meaning someone who likes small change) of the playground.
It is a very simple game that begins with the participants standing in a circle. Then people begin to throw coins into the centre of the circle. It is normal to start off with coppers and progress to higher value denominations.
When someone believes that the value of the coins in the centre of the circle is sufficient he/she will step into the middle of the circle and attempt to pick as many coins up as possible. While someone is going in for the collection, the rest of the circle have permission (and are in fact expected) to kick the "jew" until he/she retreats.
The aim of the game is to come out with more money than you started with. This of course, requires some 'jewish behaviour'.

Anti-semitic yes, but we didn't mean it like that. If PE was cancelled, the assembled class of 60-ish boys would spend 2 hours in stuffed into a classroom, "supervised" without fail by an inept teacher. To liven things up, someone would roll a 1p piece to the front of the class. When the teacher noticed it and picked it up, the whole class would stand up and scream "JEW!" at her. I feel ashamed to have been a part of this, but you should have seen her face.

Combination of the bundle (a.k.a. pile on, all pile on, bundlefly project) and the jewfinder general technique of rolling a penny along the floor. The picker up of the penny is the jew - and everyone jumps on them. A harsher version is where the penny is thrown at the potential Jew, and they are covered in boys if it hits them.

At nine years old, word reached our rural primary school of the existence of amazing characters called 'Jews'. David Nichol explained: they looked just like you and me - the only difference being that if you threw a penny at them, they would pick it up.

Word got around about these Jews, in utter isolation from reality. Those two worlds colliding during a Nativity service, when James Dunlop read from the New Testament. He managed to finish 'he shall be King of the Jews' before collapsing into laughter, along with the angels and choir.

Pre-school insult. If someone calls you out after calling someone a jewy jewy guff guff for being anti-semitic, you should become extremely indignant and point out that jewy jewy isn't an insult at all, and you'd be perfectly happy to share your Capri-Sun with them, if they weren't such a guff guff. In fact, if you think jewy jewy guff guff is anti-semitic, that makes YOU the bigot.

Probably not an insult to be used after the age of five, in case people think of you as a little childish.

Oh, my beautiful baby

He used to enjoy PE. we beat the crap out of him and he went to hospital where he met X who was gay with U they liked sucking each other and poor old Jim was a very poooooor victim who who liked it as much as he hated it and he then went to the loo and sniffed some crap and then T jumped out of nowhere and shoved his nose in it then ohhh i forgot i had a camera and filmed it all then A jumped out to watchand he was a total pervert anyway and therefor a dick head and he like Jim bummed dogs he came back to school smelling of dead monkeys because did i tell you he did dogs

'Jimmy is Satan' was written in 8-foot-high letters on the wall of the sports hall wall one day. They resisted all attempts to remove them. On a clear day they glowed.

They were rumoured to be the work of school nutcase Archie, who had previously achieved fame by burning a huge 'shit happens' face on the cricket square with weedkiller.

'Jimmy' may have been a reference to the deputy head, an indestructible 80-year-old Welshman who climbed mountains and got stung by a scorpion with no ill-effects.

Prophetic warning or drug-addled nightmare? The police weren't sympathetic in the end. Archie is now in prison.

The last person's voice to completely break can be mocked for sounding like Jimmy Saville; forget that two weeks ago the classroom sounded like some demented Saville menagerie.

A game in which you and a friend take adjacent elevators to the top floor of a building, agreeing that when you get there you will jump out and shout "jingo bingo!" without even looking. It is a race, but there are never any hard feelings; somehow the shouting of "jingo bingo!" reduces the competitive edge. Plus, if it is a draw you both get to jump out of lifts shouting "jingo bingo" together, which is a rare pleasure. If you win the race but do not shout "jingo bingo!" then you lose - you should shout it loud enough for your opponent to hear you in their lift.

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.

Replacement for "cheers". See also "fuck you very much".

Jebus is the son of Jod. If you disobey Jebus' teachings you will go to Jell, although a place in Jeaven waits for the virtuous. The religion's primary text features characters such as Joses, and Jubus, from whom important lessons can be learned about the human condition. Eventually, after long weeks of meditation and spiritual contemplation, I became Jobo, the Hobo Son of Jod Almighty.

Early-mid 1980's figure of tragedy and fun. See here.

John Doyle - a stereotypical heavy-metal kid with long, greasy hair, unwashed, would have loved Red Dwarf right up to series seven, and who spent ten minutes in front of his wardrobe every morning, deciding which of his 25 identical Motorhead T-Shirts to wear.

1. Whilst dating a girl, he was invited to dinner at her parents. Becoming excited, John enquired of his lady companion - "Can you feel my lovebuzz?"
2. With the same girlfriend, he went to some forest on her birthday. They were sitting down talking when suddenly, he stands up, cock out, with a boner and shouts "HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He then proceeds to chase girlfriend round the forest with his boner, probably all sped up with 'Yakkety Sax' playing in the background.
3. He would only ever phone you whilst taking a shit or having a bath. Which would you prefer? The splash of turd 'gainst wawa? Or the idea that he might be tugging idly at his balls and thinking "HELLOOOOOOOOOOO!"?
4. My mate Ray went to John's house. His mother had a French friend over, called Pierre. John didn't know him. When Ray went to use the unlocked toilet, he discovered John's mum and Pierre have a bath together; giggling, soapy, nude and entirely unapologetic. John explained that it happened all the time. Not the bath thing... his mother having friends over.
5. On a non-uniform day, Doyle made a T-shirt which was spattered in faux-blood and had "PEOPLE HATE ME" written across the front. There is not one person in any school that could pull off that T-shirt without looking, and being told that they looked, a cunt.

Half of these stories are thanks to the fact that girls dating John usually felt so ashamed at the end of it that they had to tell everyone all the stories, as a kind of confessional.

Another attender at St Augustines Kilburn. Where do I start? A true legend. He was slightly deaf (so everyone used to call him John PARDON!), he claimed his cousin was the sax player in Spandau Ballet. He claimed to have two "little sisters" who were to blame for him forgetting his PE kit, and taking a long time to return things you'd lent him. This turned out to be a lie. We used to keep telling him his dog was dead and he sometimes used to believe it and go and ask to phone his Mum to check. Once wet himself whilst queuing up to throw a javelin. He used to know the name of every capital city of every country but would always get fooled by Mexico (Mexico city). We ended up making country names to baffle him. He would freak out if you tried to talk to him and he couldn't see your mouth (to do with deafness?) so the whole of the 5th year was spent with people going up to him with their blazers hiding their mouths and mumbling "Your dogs dead". He got revenge by turning up four years later at random times every saturday for about 3 months. He's spend about three hours talking crap and would always borrow something (or leave something behind) so he had an excuse to come back. He stopped coming after my sister told him I'd run away from home (despite my scooter being parked in front of the house). Last seen in one the top dance music shops in London where he asked them if they had "the living years" by Mike and the Mechanics. He was told to "fuck off to our price". Was learning to be a london cabbie when I last heard from him.

And indeed he did, constantly.

He also once asked me to look behind his cupboard as he had "something special" for me. It was a turd. His turd. He proudly stated that he had done it there earlier that day as a thoughtful surprise gift for me.

I took great joy telling my friend this after she drunkenly snogged him 12 years later. She refused to confirm if he tasted of snotters.

Sigh. I KNOW. - Mansh

‘John Wightman Shags Dead Cats’. Written on a table in the theatre at Barrhead High School, circa 1981. Probably true.

In Primary 3, in order to show off my academic prowess and mastery of the English language, I rather wittily called John Wightman “John Shiteman”. Thanks to him I got a bollocking from Mrs McRitchie, after he grassed me up. As well as grassing people up, he was also rather adept at wearing his wellies on the wrong feet, getting pencils stuck up his nose and smelling of piss. Usually all at the same time.

The year - between 1987 and 1989. Still reeling from the revelations of Cerebral Palsy (see Joey Deacon), John's Not Mad gave us Tourette's Syndrome.
It followed the life of a boy who simply couldn't stop swearing, thanks to a disease. As it was educational, none of the swearing was censored. His mother dropped a plant pot and spilled some soil - John came out with "mum, you cunt". The supermarket scenes were also a gutter treat.
At this time, state-sanctioned crudity was rare, and we loved it.
John was locked into the cupboard by his teacher because he wouldn't stop swearing. This is even funnier - imagine an OFSTED inspection with a cupboard that is wobbling and swearing!
Inspector : What is in that cupboard?
Teacher : It is a wobbling swearing cupboard, like the wobbling swearing plant out of The Adventure Game.
Inspector : Very good. Take it out and burn it.
Teacher : But... but...
Inspector : But nothing - burn it now! Here are the matches, burn it now in front of me!
Teacher : OK. I suppose.
The day after John's Not Mad was the filthiest day of playground talk I can ever recall. It is still surprising that so many children actually watched a documentary... To hear scenes, click here.

Another name for a circumcised boy, the foreskin being 50% of the weight, volume, and joy of the male sexual organ, or winkle.

Our PE teacher described the rugby team from our local Catholic school as 'the johnnydodgers.' Although we knew damn well what a Johnny was, we lacked a subtle appreciation of the Vatican's view on contraception, and so were mystified, frankly.

If you like a lot of chocolate on your biscuit join our club!
But on joining this club, you didn't get a chocolate biscuit, or an after school activity. And it was 50p to join and you could only join when asked by another member. In fact, all you did was march around the playground with linked arms trying to get more people to give 50p to Dennis Chambers.