| Report for Scott Douglas | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 6 |
| Rejected stories | 4 |
| Deleted stories | 12 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
Being at that age where penile exploration (and subsequent comparison) was particularly rife, three friends and myself thought it would be a cracking riot to share a communal piss in the "big kids" loos.
Giggling began as four streams joined togeteher in glorious Handelesque harmony, but it soon got too much to resist.
It started with a little flick, a little move to the side, then suddenly we were taken by the moment, spraying our urine on the toilet, walls, floors, and each other. We finished up, convulsing with laughter; the last boy making a show of it and spinning around in a 360 degree piss cycle.
We then opened the door to find our teacher standing there, fuming at our soaked trousers. Two boys started crying right there; I held strong though, until they broke me back in the office - the "getting your mum in" card was too damn effective.
Giggling began as four streams joined togeteher in glorious Handelesque harmony, but it soon got too much to resist.
It started with a little flick, a little move to the side, then suddenly we were taken by the moment, spraying our urine on the toilet, walls, floors, and each other. We finished up, convulsing with laughter; the last boy making a show of it and spinning around in a 360 degree piss cycle.
We then opened the door to find our teacher standing there, fuming at our soaked trousers. Two boys started crying right there; I held strong though, until they broke me back in the office - the "getting your mum in" card was too damn effective.
One of our Biology textbooks had a signing dictionary in it. This enabled you to say "Miss Williams has a sloppy twat" when she was looking at you.
The foody description of choice to the more spotty members of the class, particularly Becky "pizzaface" Yates. Would be asked - "dyou want anchovies with that?" with alarming regularity. Also gave a good foundation for cruel charicatures - the face would be replaced with an open pizza box, a lolling slice acting as a hanging out tongue.
Senny came to school with one of those absolutely screamingly big spots you sometimes get just behind the flair of your nostril (where it joins your cheek). It was bloody huge - we imagined that straining for a turd would have it exploding all over the walls. We ribbed him mercilessly, then he came in next day with the same spot, but a huge red cap, rather than white. This proved he had picked it, for which he got shamed and beaten possibly more than if he had just left it.
Senny came to school with one of those absolutely screamingly big spots you sometimes get just behind the flair of your nostril (where it joins your cheek). It was bloody huge - we imagined that straining for a turd would have it exploding all over the walls. We ribbed him mercilessly, then he came in next day with the same spot, but a huge red cap, rather than white. This proved he had picked it, for which he got shamed and beaten possibly more than if he had just left it.
We used to find it interesting that, when under the relentless pressure of a tightly fought game of speednob, the individual styles that came through. Mine were very much spiky, treble triangle affairs, while mj's were more like a three leaf clover. Of course by the end of the minute (our games were one on one contests - the sheer volume of nobs everywhere by now rendered the sneaky nob-draw obsolete (which didn't make us stop tho)) you had some fairly sloppy nobs...
A variation on speednob reversal (born from a mixture of the endless search for new ideas and uses for the nob, and the fact that we would quite happily adorn our OWN work with the things) was to try and turn everything FROM the noraml, into a nob. Capital letters of the A, D and W variety (W was particularly cunning, and could be formed while writing - a "U" shape, with a teeny dash down the middle) were fair game, but it all got a bit outlandish when the spunk spurts ejecting from the nobs were given the horizontal and vertical line treatment, then ITS spunk bubble was turned to a nob, then the next, and so on, add infinitum.
Our love of the art of drawing nobs developed over the years, with me and mj cofounding the "Nobtionary" - a set of amusingly charicatured penis'. "mcnob" - an appropriately scottish themed nob, with bagpipes. "nobzilla" - the balls acted as haunches, with an enlargened urethra his roaring mouth. "thomas the wank engine" was fairly obvious (the balls acting as the larger rear wheels). there were soooo many, but sadly lost now. reward offered.
A variation on speednob reversal (born from a mixture of the endless search for new ideas and uses for the nob, and the fact that we would quite happily adorn our OWN work with the things) was to try and turn everything FROM the noraml, into a nob. Capital letters of the A, D and W variety (W was particularly cunning, and could be formed while writing - a "U" shape, with a teeny dash down the middle) were fair game, but it all got a bit outlandish when the spunk spurts ejecting from the nobs were given the horizontal and vertical line treatment, then ITS spunk bubble was turned to a nob, then the next, and so on, add infinitum.
Our love of the art of drawing nobs developed over the years, with me and mj cofounding the "Nobtionary" - a set of amusingly charicatured penis'. "mcnob" - an appropriately scottish themed nob, with bagpipes. "nobzilla" - the balls acted as haunches, with an enlargened urethra his roaring mouth. "thomas the wank engine" was fairly obvious (the balls acting as the larger rear wheels). there were soooo many, but sadly lost now. reward offered.
We always called it a nipple cripple - with cripple on its own also being quite a popular insult in it's own right.
Bumlifting:
A physics lesson sport, which involved admiring the peculiar ability of the four geeks on the desk in front (nerd row, like death row see) to sit upon their stools, arses thrust skywards. There was no real points system, but kudos was given to a particularly protracted or stylish bum lift. Big James Canton normally won, his formiddable behind seeing off the challenge of weedy Joe Chadwick.
Bum Sliding:
Possibly already mentioned; involved sliding along the edge of tables, with only the arse having any contact to the surface. Advanced sliders knew all the tricks - tables pushed together, and polished with the help of some ingenious soul who found a can of Pledge, a lengthy run up, and good feet clearance could result in reverse bum slides, 360 bum slides, or maybe the coveted "one cheek". Fantastically, a misjudged slide would end in a cartoony flail into the nearest wall.
A physics lesson sport, which involved admiring the peculiar ability of the four geeks on the desk in front (nerd row, like death row see) to sit upon their stools, arses thrust skywards. There was no real points system, but kudos was given to a particularly protracted or stylish bum lift. Big James Canton normally won, his formiddable behind seeing off the challenge of weedy Joe Chadwick.
Bum Sliding:
Possibly already mentioned; involved sliding along the edge of tables, with only the arse having any contact to the surface. Advanced sliders knew all the tricks - tables pushed together, and polished with the help of some ingenious soul who found a can of Pledge, a lengthy run up, and good feet clearance could result in reverse bum slides, 360 bum slides, or maybe the coveted "one cheek". Fantastically, a misjudged slide would end in a cartoony flail into the nearest wall.
There was a movie making program on the new computers that made the computer room the hip place to be for a while. It let you draw from a variety of characters, and place them on a landscape, where you could give them speech, or animate them (commands - "wink" "wiggle" "gyrate" etc). Well. We had a field day. Some were extraordinarily technically accomplished, cartoon aliens getting down to 3-ways and the like. It all came crashing down however - During a showing of one of my better efforts, my friends suddenly vacate me. I turn around to see Mr Rymes right behind. I look back to the screen, a three eyed alien is saying "let me feel your bug eyed breast" and extending a leering, groping hand.
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Years before the new computers, the school had maybe two entirely, those big chunky RM ones. Their one redeeming feature was a kind of "make your own game" game, a text based adventure type thing (you know the sort - "head left or right? need rope to cross chasm" etc). In actual fact you only named whatever it was you were searching for, place names, and brilliantly, one special item that you took along (that would ultimately help win the game). As you can guess, this presented many opportunities; games would look a little something like this - "Scott wields his BIG HUGE COCK and unlocks the power of YOUR MUMS FANNY" or "They travelled through BURSONS ANAL PIPE".
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Years before the new computers, the school had maybe two entirely, those big chunky RM ones. Their one redeeming feature was a kind of "make your own game" game, a text based adventure type thing (you know the sort - "head left or right? need rope to cross chasm" etc). In actual fact you only named whatever it was you were searching for, place names, and brilliantly, one special item that you took along (that would ultimately help win the game). As you can guess, this presented many opportunities; games would look a little something like this - "Scott wields his BIG HUGE COCK and unlocks the power of YOUR MUMS FANNY" or "They travelled through BURSONS ANAL PIPE".
'Pastime' derived from an Indian sport that used to be on Channel 4. The actual game involved two teams of Indians in nappies on a dusty court, with the apparent aim being to hit each other in the legs. Why, with a little fine tuning, this would make a great playground game, we said.
We 'fine tuned' it to the point where we actually just beat each other up whilst yelling "KABBADI!".
Although the casual racism was the cherry on the cake, it was those two key elements - shouting and fighting - that made it such a hit.
We 'fine tuned' it to the point where we actually just beat each other up whilst yelling "KABBADI!".
Although the casual racism was the cherry on the cake, it was those two key elements - shouting and fighting - that made it such a hit.
That time of day when you look meaningfully at the boys around your table, who all understand whats going unsaid here. It's time to slip under the table (one at a time, so as not to raise suspicion - yeah right, 4 boys all go - and stay - under the table within 2 minutes of each other, completely natural), and check the various delights and shocks of young girls knickers (that feels SO wrong to type). Given that we didnt really know what we were looking for/at, even the most distressingly unhygenic knickers were regarded with almost scientific ambivalence.
Yes, Matty Edwards was the mentally retarded kid in class - all the usual problems intensified by his whole family (2 sisters, 1 bro, all at the same school) being of the same ilk, being the only spazzers in the school, which itself was a small school with a disproportionate amount of cunts.
Really though, it boiled down to 2 things - he was a spaz, and he had big eyes. Showing adept logic for our age, it was established he was an alien from space, therefor could shoot moonbeams from his eyes, therfor was ripe for ritual shaming. A moment that will always live on sunny and beautiful in my mind - during rainy (indoor) break, someone kicked a football at the light, which bust it, leaving it flickering on and off. Using our robust logic again, it was obvious Matty's moonbeams could fix the light. Someone pointed his head at the light, we shouted our encouragement, "C'mon Matty!" we yelled...then the light...turned...on. Suddenly our joke was turned on us! Were our cruel jibes the truth!? It was a crazy time to be a kid I can tell you, the roar from the class brought in teachers, everyone was hugging Matty (him revelling in the attention, like all the best victims do), and, for just a moment, the world was in harmony. *sniff*
Really though, it boiled down to 2 things - he was a spaz, and he had big eyes. Showing adept logic for our age, it was established he was an alien from space, therefor could shoot moonbeams from his eyes, therfor was ripe for ritual shaming. A moment that will always live on sunny and beautiful in my mind - during rainy (indoor) break, someone kicked a football at the light, which bust it, leaving it flickering on and off. Using our robust logic again, it was obvious Matty's moonbeams could fix the light. Someone pointed his head at the light, we shouted our encouragement, "C'mon Matty!" we yelled...then the light...turned...on. Suddenly our joke was turned on us! Were our cruel jibes the truth!? It was a crazy time to be a kid I can tell you, the roar from the class brought in teachers, everyone was hugging Matty (him revelling in the attention, like all the best victims do), and, for just a moment, the world was in harmony. *sniff*
Nowhere near the awesomeness of "Thomas Heavyside", but a good example of childhood wit at its peak - David Dors became David can't fit through Doors.
Gary Ashfield brought in this black rigid thing to primary school, that jiggled when you hit a switch. None of us had a CLUE what it was, but he knew. He knew alright.
Same boy showed us some unique gymnastics, when he placed an book on his crotch, and made it raise and lower without using his hands.
Same boy showed us some unique gymnastics, when he placed an book on his crotch, and made it raise and lower without using his hands.
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.321Everyone shows a flat palm, even Sket.
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.321Everyone shows a flat palm, even Sket.
There was "breast miss" instead of "yes miss" at registration. You'd get scared, as the WHOLE class would realise, but could settle down and wallow in your glory as the teacher ploughed on unwittingly.
Hot on the heels of the wedge was the undercut, and respect was gained by how far up your undercut went. The more hardcore just had a few long hairs sprouting from the very top of their head. I can still see my mums despairing looks as I asked the hairdresser to style me up.
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ps - hope im not flooding you too hard...ive had an insomnia night, which i have gotten through by way of this lush site.
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ps - hope im not flooding you too hard...ive had an insomnia night, which i have gotten through by way of this lush site.
Another "bum" sport. In essence, it was the taking of a persons hand - either the sly "can I look at your hand?", or just sheer force - and pushing it onto someones bum, coupled with speedy retraction of your own hand. The game had an edge to it; small kids and geeks were standard fare, but you could gradually move up the school scale of behinds - pushing a hand into the hard kids arse for instance, or the really fit girls (which was normally met with no resistance, as it could always be covered with a "he made me do it!"). Of course, the coup de grace was a teachers bum, at which point the pusher and pushee would be involved in a titanic (yet eeirly silent) struggle to "make contact". Added depth comes from the fact that if your victim breaks free, the momentum is enough to send YOUR hand careening into the buttocks of choice.
Scabby Queen
This is basically the game Old Maid. The "scabby" element comes from the punishment for losing, which is a number of scrapes to the knuckles with the whole deck. The number and violence of the scrapes is determined by cutting the cards (red = soft taps, black = full-blooded whacks, value of card = number of hits).
Convincing a gullible child that any card they draw is worth 20 and concealing a credit card in the deck prior to administering the scrapes will ensure maximum bleeding. If you're a schoolkid with a credit card, that is.
Scrapes
A 2-player game that saves all that fucking around with Scabby Queen rules. Player One cuts. Player Two gives Player One the appropriate number of scrapes as hard as they fucking well can. Player Two cuts. Repeat until either player can�t take any more.
There are arguably no real winners in this game. However, if the player administering the scrapes drops the deck of cards, the other player is entitled to give them fifty-two scrapes. I only saw this happen once, but it resulted in a hand that looked like it had got stuck in a bacon slicer.
This is basically the game Old Maid. The "scabby" element comes from the punishment for losing, which is a number of scrapes to the knuckles with the whole deck. The number and violence of the scrapes is determined by cutting the cards (red = soft taps, black = full-blooded whacks, value of card = number of hits).
Convincing a gullible child that any card they draw is worth 20 and concealing a credit card in the deck prior to administering the scrapes will ensure maximum bleeding. If you're a schoolkid with a credit card, that is.
Scrapes
A 2-player game that saves all that fucking around with Scabby Queen rules. Player One cuts. Player Two gives Player One the appropriate number of scrapes as hard as they fucking well can. Player Two cuts. Repeat until either player can�t take any more.
There are arguably no real winners in this game. However, if the player administering the scrapes drops the deck of cards, the other player is entitled to give them fifty-two scrapes. I only saw this happen once, but it resulted in a hand that looked like it had got stuck in a bacon slicer.
As young supervarmints, we were terribly ironic, bastions of naffness being raised to towers of glory, but in a "we know its crap, but its actually not cos we like it, except we don't, cos we're too cool" etc.
David Hasslehoff fits the bill in this manner perfectly, and for a while, simple pleasure was gained at any utterance of his name. It wasn't long before we branched out - Lawrence Lewellyn Bowen, Nigel Winterbottom etc. It was all about the complete picture; the name itself had to sound inherently funny, and also conjure up an amusing looking celebrity.
As friends, our conversations had massive lulls as we all strove for that corker, until someone said "Ainsley Harriott", which would result in a deluge of "Anthony Worral Thompson"s and "Gary Rhodes" as we took culinary inspiration.
Sport stars were often where it was at - a good proportion of uglies benifitting from stupid names, Peter Beardsley, Ian Rush, Tony Yeboah (which evokes more memories of everyone trying to "do a Yeboah" ie score a corking volley from 30 yards that rattles in off the crossbar. Attempts made from 2 yards out, drop kicking, invariably went over the school wall).
By this time, people were actually researching, and throwing down corkers (Slobodan Milosovic, Dane Bowers, Adam Ricketts was a particular beaut). But the high point came during one such game, when a little kid across the playground shouted "DAVID HASSLEHOFF". He COMPLETELY understood the nature of the game; not only that, he only goes and throws down the founding father! It was a testament to the game, to us, it gave hope for a brighter future. The kid was rewarded by our grudging respect, and slightly less beats than his mates.
David Hasslehoff fits the bill in this manner perfectly, and for a while, simple pleasure was gained at any utterance of his name. It wasn't long before we branched out - Lawrence Lewellyn Bowen, Nigel Winterbottom etc. It was all about the complete picture; the name itself had to sound inherently funny, and also conjure up an amusing looking celebrity.
As friends, our conversations had massive lulls as we all strove for that corker, until someone said "Ainsley Harriott", which would result in a deluge of "Anthony Worral Thompson"s and "Gary Rhodes" as we took culinary inspiration.
Sport stars were often where it was at - a good proportion of uglies benifitting from stupid names, Peter Beardsley, Ian Rush, Tony Yeboah (which evokes more memories of everyone trying to "do a Yeboah" ie score a corking volley from 30 yards that rattles in off the crossbar. Attempts made from 2 yards out, drop kicking, invariably went over the school wall).
By this time, people were actually researching, and throwing down corkers (Slobodan Milosovic, Dane Bowers, Adam Ricketts was a particular beaut). But the high point came during one such game, when a little kid across the playground shouted "DAVID HASSLEHOFF". He COMPLETELY understood the nature of the game; not only that, he only goes and throws down the founding father! It was a testament to the game, to us, it gave hope for a brighter future. The kid was rewarded by our grudging respect, and slightly less beats than his mates.
So your (female) form tutors flies are undone...possibilities fly along your brain paths, humour to be gained, shame to be applied liberally. Then Sket asked her *unnassuming voice* "Miss, if a plane flew past this (bottom floor) window, what would it be doing?", and nothing else was needed. She actually said "flying..." before going crimson, turning away to do the old hitch-and-step. Thing is, I had a little shame of my own - I laughed so hard, I peed my pants just a little, and there was much lighter to crotch application before I could stand up.
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Right, thats it! I imagine youre sick by now...but once you get going...
ooh ps THIS SITE MAKES ME HAPPY
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Right, thats it! I imagine youre sick by now...but once you get going...
ooh ps THIS SITE MAKES ME HAPPY
I don't think it has ever been established whether the feeling of 6 sneezes in a row equals an orgasm, or if you sneeze 6 times, the sheer power results in uncontrollable ejaculation. When experimenting, do not use an extremely sharp pencil to induce sneezes in art class as it will result in a nosebleed.
Me and a friend got N64s for Christmas (complete with rumble paks) and spent a day charging our Diddy Kong racing karts into walls, with our controllers resting gently against the crotch. This was also completely innocent and not gay. Of course, this was back in the day when Mario and Luigi were just good friends and their moustaches were mere symbols of good, honest pluck - not the bumrimming arsecowboys we are wrongly led to perceive them as today.
Lack of company will soon lead a man into a brown study.
Dice Play, Eg Tottel (1532)
Also a sanctuary for outcasts at our school. A big sign outside explained: "Brown Study = Deep Thought" - which naturally inspired "Just off to the toilet for a spot of deep thought".
The retards' retreat was stocked with board games, toys and small furry animals, whose mortality rate was . The turnover rate for these animals was shocking - one story of a small dribbling child playing "car crashes" with a hamster needs its own space...well, not really. He just ran over a hamster with a Tonka Truck.
Dice Play, Eg Tottel (1532)
Also a sanctuary for outcasts at our school. A big sign outside explained: "Brown Study = Deep Thought" - which naturally inspired "Just off to the toilet for a spot of deep thought".
The retards' retreat was stocked with board games, toys and small furry animals, whose mortality rate was . The turnover rate for these animals was shocking - one story of a small dribbling child playing "car crashes" with a hamster needs its own space...well, not really. He just ran over a hamster with a Tonka Truck.