Nobody seems to believe me when I tell them that Gary Jones, A-level physics lecturer extraordinaire, once jumped onto the front bench and shouted "Physics! It's orgasmic!" at the top of his voice. While it's true that the proof he'd demonstrated was quite neat, it wasn't quite enough to make me spaff my knickers.

This wasn't even particularly strange behaviour for the honourable Mr Jones. On another occasion he arrived half an hour late and proceded to tell us how Uri Geller had broken his car radio.

I miss that man.

A game to be played to enliven fucking boring school trips to Sellafield. When speaking to the Sellafield staff who show you around, subtly insert the word 'orifice' into as many questions as possible.
'So, where are all the orifice workers here?'
You will quickly discover that it is actually quite difficult to shoehorn many orifices into casual conversation. When you discover this, you can take the 'Dan Wakefield Option' of simply handing back your visitors badge at the end of the trip with the words 'Thanks, orifice'.

In my year 10 geography class, we were one day studying fossil fuels and how they were made. My teacher, Mr Parmley, then asked "How what is coal made from".No one put their hand up, except this one smarmy git called Adam. His answer, "dead foetuses", was considered a Geiger-esque vision of post-nuclear power stations.

A word that our entire class learned for the first time when we were bollocked for "ostracising" Andrew Bard. This allegation was levelled at us when Mrs Allcock walked into the form room for the third day running to hear the hit song "Ooo-aah Andrew Beard, I say oo-ah Andrew Beard " be belted out en masse. Bard's main crimes were (a) having a name that sounded like "beard" and (b) not wearing a Campri ski jacket. In retrospect the charge of ostracism was a little unfair - Andrew was in no way excluded from the opportunity to join in the sing song.

1. Brand of orange. The advert's slogan was "small ones are more juicy - naturally" accompanied by jug-heavy Mungo Jerry hit "In The Summertime". Therefore,

2. Thing to say to someone with small but perfectly acceptable breasts.

3. Also can be said post-sex to a man whose small penis has just saturated your duvet, surprising you both. "Why, Mr Patterson! Small ones are more juicy!"

"Naturally," replies Mr Patterson,laughing.

My 15 year old cousin was rather well built for his age and generally excelled at sports. One of the PE teachers decided that he needed to reassert his authority over this prodigy with a display of masculine power and potency, and so organised a 400m race between the two of them.

They sprinted off round the track, resulting in the PE teacher soundly beating the 15 year old upstart. Nobody was particularly impressed by this, but whatever tiny amount of kudos he may have gained was more than lost when, after crossing the finish line, he collapsed onto all fours and vomited over his hands.

It’s always good to see smoke and fumes coming out of things. In the case of the overhead projector, this is achieved by pushing thin blue plastic straws into the cooling fan.

This is what our African geography teacher seemed to be saying when he was trying to tell us about ox-bow lakes.
He may have mistaken our keenness for actual interest in the subject. However, all we really wanted to hear was a teacher saying 'ox bollocks' over and over again.

An interminable staple of Geography education in UK schools. Many, many hours are devoted to the study of these fascinating geological features.
Since leaving school, no-one has ever, under any circumstances, needed to know what the fuck an oxbow lake is, or how it is formed.

Any filthy, discarded or 'used' coat or shirt, preferably found in the street. The Oxby Coat would be picked up and thrown at the victim, who had to wear it if it so much as touched them. Everyone else would then shout "Oxby!" until... well, until we stopped, I suppose.