Report for jon james
Approved stories9
Rejected stories6
Deleted stories (hidden) 8
SummaryCould Try Harder

This should be bellowed at volume in a packed corridor, giving all present license to start shoving and punching those in close proximity.

An all-purpose phrase, as long as the purpose is to stop Richard talking, responding to an insult, kicking a ball, sitting near you, or otherwise having any dealings with the world around him.
Best said in an exhausted and really loud voice, so everyone turns around to see what it was that Richard was trying this time.
After some months of such training, Richard will automatically not try it, and require only a raised finger and eyebrow to shut him up, if a look of hopeful interaction flickers across his face, or any sounds start to come out of his mouth.

A game devised in Year 11, and something of the antithesis of the more subtle game, "fuck". It basically involved going up to Mr. Stove, our Science teacher, and saying the word "fuck" to him.
e.g: "Sir, I'm not sure I understand this equation for measuring acceleration. Fuck."
or "Mr. Stove, can you tell Andrew to leave me alone? Fuck."
"Fuck" had to be said clearly, and could not be disguised in the middle of a sentence, or as part of another word. Not saying "fuck" once you had made your approach resulted in a beating. Mr Stove never reacted in anger. In fact, he hever gave any signs of giving the tiniest shit.

The self-chosen name our school's foremost rap duo. Marginally better than if they'd called themselves "Ping and Pong", or "MC Hello Dolly and the Belgrano Connection", I suppose. But only marginally.

In primary school, reasoning that drug dealing was the ultimate in cool, yet lacking the knowledge of what a drug dealer actually did, I decided to collect cigarette butts, peel away the paper, and store the filter tips in a certain drainpipe in the playground.

This became a surprisingly successful craze at my school, lasting for a good few weeks before a teacher was told about our glamourous and highly illegal exploits and broke up the cartel.

A statement which started as a joke,but which evolved in many interesting ways, my favourite being as a method of absolution.
E.g."Terrance, if you're not going to shut up, you're going to have to leave the room."
"It's not his fault miss, his dad's on crack."
It was used so often that people started to believe that Terrance's dad WAS actually on crack, and things got so bad that Terrance's dad eventually felt the need to pay a visit to our class. He explained that he was not on crack, and was actually a factory worker. We all remained silent throughout the speech, until my friend Nick raised his hand.
"Yes?" said Terrance's dad.
"How can you afford to raise a family and keep up a crack habit on a factory worker's salary?"

The cry uttered by me during a complex game of cops and robbers, where the criminal element was far more varied. "I'm a murderer!" "I'm a drug dealer!" etc.
For about a week after the incident, I couldn't sit near a girl without her crying out "Jon, stop trying to rape me!" and occasionally hitting me.
I'm not a rapist. Honest.
The Editors of Playground Law wish to let it be known that they do not endorse Jon James' claim not to be a rapist. If you have been raped by Jon James, please go to the police. Alternately, tell your story here, and we'll do our best to get him sent down for good.

Common practice in the boys' communal changing rooms after swimming. Someone would stand naked on the benches and call out your name. When you looked round, if your eyes even momentarily dropped to the flasher's nob, you were gay. "Errr! He looked!" Remained effective until the day that someone responded with "You're the one who wants to show me your dick." Sadly, Christopher was absent for that revelation...
"Oi, Jon!"
"Errr, Chris, you dirty poof, what are you showing me your dick for?"
Christopher ended up in tears from the constant chants of "Chris, you gaylord!". Which further proved just how gay he was.

The name a group of us created for a swift, take-down manouver.
Basically entails stealthily moving into position behind your target, then booting them as hard as you can in the back of the knee, making them drop to the floor.
In the ideal situation, the victim would be at the back of a queue, causing a domino effect whereby their knee would hit the back of the next person's knee, and so on.

A mutant strand of Pacifier also developed, where the kick was delivered to the heel of the victim's foot, causing their leg to fly wildly out in front of them.

A phrase to be uttered upon being told you are wrong by a teacher. Generally followed up by headbutting your desk quite hard. If you did not bang your head after saying the phrase, class mates would happily smack it into the nearest wall after class.

"CAN YOU BEES?" screamed Henry as he sat on fellow special needster Alan, "CAN YOU BEES?"

The Law of the Playground challenges you, the reader to decide... TRUE FOREVER? OR LIKE WHATEVER?
The jap's eye game required a group of girls and a group of boys. A girl would dare a boy to insert something into his jap's eye. If he successfully did this, the girl had to remove it with her mouth (preferably not directly with the teeth). If the boy failed in the insertion process, his punishment was not getting a girl's mouth on his nob.
The best I managed was a blade of grass. My mate Robin got a twig in there. Hard as she tried though, (and she tried VERY hard) the girl involved just couldn't pull it out. Robin ended up in tears, and had to go to the school nurse, and then hospital. With a twig sticking out of the end of his nob.
I laughed for around three or four days.
So what do YOU think? An everyday tale of underaged urethra-play? Or retrospective wish-fulfillment from the boy who spent too much time reading? TRUE FOREVER? OR LIKE, WHATEVER?

Our lab assistant, whos name I do not remember, quite clearly harboured quite wrong desires towards one of my fourteen year old classmates. Whenever he entered our classroom, even if he was just dropping off a load of lined paper for those who had forgetten their excercise books, he would always walk over to poor Jenna, put his hands on her shoulders, lean down so his head was next to hers and ask her in a whispered voice how she was getting on. She would generally squirm a little and say she was fine, then act really busy so he'd leave her alone.

In his defence, Jenna was quite fit.

Myself and a friend were sitting in our Maths class one day, when I noticed a mate at the door. He beckoned to us. After about five minutes, we got the chance to slip out unnoticed.
As we followed him through the school's corridors, I asked what was going on.
"I have just done the biggest shit in the world," my friend explained. We reached the toilets, where two other guys were guarding the cubicle, to stop anyone from disturbing the poo. I opened the cubicle door, quietly confident that I had probably done bigger ones in my time. But then I saw it. It was huge. Monolithic. It looked capable of conscious thought.
The guy who was in Maths with me was sent off to get a plastic bag. We wrapped up the shit and bunked off for the afternoon. We took a series of photos of it in different surroundings, and one with it next to a ruler, to give a sense of scale.
I don't recall the exact dimensions, but to this day I cannot comprehend producing something that could match it.

An unusual tradition at my school. At one end of the playground, where football was played, was a small alleyway leading along the side of the school building. There was a tall, chicken wire fence blocking off the entrance. And so, at break time, a bunch of us would grab an unwitting victim, drag him over to the fence and hold him with his back to it. We would then begin chanting "GHOST BUMMER, GHOST BUMMER" over and over. The idea was that a ghost lived in the alley, and when summoned up by the chant it would come over and bugger whoever was nearest. Provoked genuine fear in the victim, as they tried desperately to escape this otherworldly bumming, or at least look over their shoulder to check for approaching ghosts.
As the bummer was a ghost, arguments such as "but I still had my trousers on!" were quickly dismissed.