A game designed to achieve maximum interactivity with a Japanese girl who possessed a limited command of the English: her name, the word "yes", and "shut up".
You begin by asking her name, when she replies, you say "No, it's not". When she counters with "Yes", reply simply with "No". Continue back and forth until she gets fed up and tells you to "shut up".
For some reason, this provided hours of amusement for much of the school.

A summer game. When the grass has grown, choose an area of ground for your Sidney Home. Gather some friends (or people who like spitting), and get them to hack up a load of greenies onto the plot. Cover this with ripped up grass, and repeat. Once you are happy with your home, and have enough friends to feel safe, throw someone weak onto the Sidney Home. Usually Patrick Sears.

A sidney home with more than five floors.

You played a game where you had to be QUIET on the bus? You fucking stupid CUNT.

To liven up the bus journey home we devised the above mentioned game. Basically at the back of the lower deck on a double decker bus there was 3 long seats, if you were sat on these seats you were in the game, whether you liked it or not. The rules were simple, you kept quiet or you got a good kicking. Special mention should go to Jerome Williams, who was a couple of years below us and took several beatings, the majority of which seemed to be for breathing too loudly.

Silence in the courtyards,
Silence in the streets.
The biggest gob in England,
Is just about to speak.
Starting from........NOW!
Often used in classrooms as a teacher approaches, or in shared rooms to shut people up and allow sleep. In some versions of this game, however, sound effects are allowed, as long as they don't form words. So those attempting to sleep will be kept awake by cacophonic grunting.

One fellow pupil advocated the use of his mother's "silks" as a masturbation aid. We were never quite sure what was supposed to happen with the underwear, until he demonstrated what became known as "the silks dance" with a pair of imaginary tights. The dance is too complex to describe here – just imagine a boy fucking a stocking and you’re not too far off.

The punchline to a joke that caused me much confusion aged about 10. The joke: a woman goes to the doctor and explains that every time she takes her bra off, a wild-eyed black man bursts from between her breasts and shouts nonsense. The doctor tells her she has "silly coon" implants.

At age 10, when my friend told me this gag, it baffled me. I was an animal lover and pretty unversed in racist monikers, so as far as I was concerned, "coon" was short for "raccoon". Naturally, I was left wondering what on Earth a small mammal of the family Procyonidae had to do with black men and boobies.

Series of music books, filled with retarded songs that kids were meant to sing instead of hymns during assembly in our Godless primary school. The only tunes I can remember from it were:

Jiggle jiggle jiggle jiggle/
Jiggle jiggle jiggle/
Little sack o' sugar I could eat you up.

And

I went down to a party/
It was me and Ben and Mack/
And before I knew what happened/
I got an itching on my back/
Scratch, scratch my back.

Sure, the music was safe from the oppressive spectre of religion, but boyhowdy did it suck. Why couldn't I have gone to a Catholic school? Knee socks, kilts, Latin and enforced cunnlingus, surrounded by all that fabulous stained glass and gigantic gold bleeding Jesuses. Hosannah! Hosaaaaaaaannah! I'd have LOVED that. And nuns. Nuns are way cool.

One of our school's many rudeboys, he would indulge in such hardcore tings as throwing 2p's at us in market square he once created a vishus device by sticking the point of his compass through his pepsi pencil case and stabbing me in the shoulder with it, just as Mr Bennet asked me question in French class. It stayed in my shoulder for a long wee and I got to nuff trouble for 'messing round'
Simon Addis is now a rentboy and someone told me he likes it

Simon Marr, Simon Marr,
The boy who stole a Dinky Car,
He broke the mirror on an E-Type Jag,
Spat in a cap and smoked a fag.
Stole a torch, swore in class,
Ripped the trunks off a tourist’s arse,
Pinched the dinner-money off some kid,
These are the things that Simon did.

So went the ‘Simon Marr Song’. The ‘Ripping the Pants’ episode is worthy of some elaboration. During the summer, those bringing their own lunches to school could eat them on the banks of the nearby river in this popular tourist town. We could regularly be found ‘Watching- the-stunts-of-the-cunts-in-the-punts’ and occasionally posing with a tourist in our straw boaters for money (No, it WASN’T a public school this was just part of our uniform OK?).
In this pleasant area was a small paddling pool and one sunny lunchtime the school recidivist, Simon Marr, spotted a boy of about our own age (14-ish) standing on the edge of the pool wearing just his swimming trunks prior to a paddle.
Adopting a comedy ‘creeping’ motion he stole up on the unsuspecting lad.
We all expected him to push the boy in which would have been mildly amusing; instead, in one deft movement, he tore the trunks clean off the boy and ran off with the wreckage of them, leaving the stunned holidaymaker in the centre of a growing crowd of giggling girls and clucking women and yelling in a transatlantic whine, ‘Hey! You can’t do that!’ in direct contradiction to the evidence.
The police came to the school but in those halcyon days before surveillance cameras no one was identified.

In school Simon the retarded boy used to sit under the trees and drink his juice so we called it Simon's bar and rammed flowers up his nose

The popular assembly hymn in which all the infants wonderfully and as one sang "of kings..." at the end of the chorus, their voices trailing off as they realise there isn't another "of kings" there.

To the theme of 'New York, New York.'

New York, New York,
it's a hell of a town,
the plane goes in and the building goes down,
the World Trade Centre's a hole in the ground,
New York, New York,
it's a hell of a town

The name for a child, most likely of special educational needs, who is found masturbating in the school room by a girl, but resolutely completes the deed while she dithers between running off to tell and watching in slack-jawed paralysis.

Craig Eady shouted this at our art teacher while standing approximately six inches behind him.
Sir's reaction proved that he was entirely, or at least partially, deaf.

never sit on the fire pole

Pupils of opposite sexes were required, by this ridiculous rule, to remain no less than six inches apart whilst on the school's premises. Frequent were the boasts of male pupils that they could be get intimate with their girlfriends, whilst remaining six inches apart, as they were "hung like a donkey".

There's every chance that we did know what our woodwork teacher meant, when he said "pack it in or i'll stick my size nine up your backsides". There's a considerable possibility that we knew he meant his shoe, in a non-penetrative sense.
But we never let him know that.

A game similar to 'Scissors Paper Stone'.
Option 1 (denoted by making a fist) - look at a reflection of a photo of Sket's mum, one where shes not facing the camera, from 2 miles away.
Option 2 (denoted by a flat palm) - get done in the bum by the entire New Zealand rugby team, whilst being watched by a couple of silverback gorillas, who then join in for seconds.
3
2
1
Everyone shows a flat palm, even Sket.

Brown Y-fronts invariably had skid marks (actual evidence was unneccesary for conviction) as did any undergarment with a even a suggestion of yellow piping. Strong correlations were found between those sporting lobsters at swimming practive and the presence of skid marks thus causing prolonged embarrassment. Further etymological and historical research can be undertaken if necessary.

Areas of compacted snow used for highly territorial skidding. What, you were expecting shitty streaks on your knickers or something?

Once, we were in the changing room after a games lesson . For some bizarre reason, Steven Maule had taken off his kegs and left them on the floor. Upon further inspection, we noticed they were covered in skid marks. When challenged about this, young Mauley offered the following by way of explanation: "It's not my fault, my brother had them on yesterday".

Highly competitive activity where the winner was the one who could piss the highest up the wall of the toilet block. The resulting winning stream was marked off with chalk on the wall. Strange how the sense of occasion meant that we only pissed on the outside of the toilet block, as if that was OK. This was an exciting past-time, the enjoyment of which could be vastly increased if a competitor acheived a 'Lucozade'. See also "lucozade".

Jackie Tyler wanked off Beanie Baker and Rob Chatwin at the same time. "It was like skiing," she confessed.

To be skil with one l means that you have no balls. Usefully, they are both pronounced "skill", so you don't really have to reveal which skill you're using until you have your answer.