| Report for Dinner Dance | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 6 |
| Rejected stories | 4 |
| Deleted stories | 1 |
| Summary | Exemplary Child |
"Daisy, Daisy,
Give me your tits to chew,
I'm half crazy,
Me balls are going blue,
I can't afford a dunky,
A plastic bag will do,
But you'll look sweet,
Under the sheets,
With me on top of you."
How mature was that for a 10 year old?
Give me your tits to chew,
I'm half crazy,
Me balls are going blue,
I can't afford a dunky,
A plastic bag will do,
But you'll look sweet,
Under the sheets,
With me on top of you."
How mature was that for a 10 year old?
Condom, Durex, Rubber Johnny. As 10 year olds we used sticks to hook used 'dunkies' out of streams and recycle them as biological weapons in playground fights.
Our junior school was surrounded by fields, one of which became the winter home for locally famous fairground operators. As a result, we shared our classrooms with several young gyppos. Having led the exciting, criminal, sexually active lives of the fairground deviants they were, they provided us with sex education at a tender age. One of them convinced us all that girls produced spunk, just like boys, and that the smell on his fingers would proove it. This sounded proposterous, but his fingers did indeed smell spunky. It didn't occur to me that this was probably because his older brother had got to his younger sister first.
Once upon a time, '7' men paid '1' pound for a hole in the ground ('0'). No-one could see the point ('.') of this, but the '7' men became millionaires within '7' nights. How? Well, '3' of the men built a drilling machine above the hole, whilst the other '4' made it work. By '5' o'clock, the men had discovered something. Do you know what it is yet?
Turn the calculator upside down to amaze the whole class.
Alternatively, just type '0.7734', turn your digital calculator upside down and continuously tap the classmate in front of you until he/she is forced to turn around and read the amusing message.
Turn the calculator upside down to amaze the whole class.
Alternatively, just type '0.7734', turn your digital calculator upside down and continuously tap the classmate in front of you until he/she is forced to turn around and read the amusing message.
Also appropriate after certain demands, i.e 'Quick, press my nose', or 'Quick, pull my finger'. 'Quick' is imperative, to avoid clenching and possible follow-through on release.
Jingle Bells,
Batman smells,
Robin flew away,
Uncle Billy lost his willy,
On the motorway.
An unforeseen yuletide tragedy, as, undetered by Batman's flatuence, Robin is instumental in the loss of Uncle Billy's genitalia, probably driving over them in the batmobile.
Batman smells,
Robin flew away,
Uncle Billy lost his willy,
On the motorway.
An unforeseen yuletide tragedy, as, undetered by Batman's flatuence, Robin is instumental in the loss of Uncle Billy's genitalia, probably driving over them in the batmobile.
Double kudos for this retort, on receiving stare from said authority figure: "Sorry, Sir, just a slip of the bum"
Mental Man lived on the Perrysfield estate. He would catch any child who got too near during daily taunting sessions, and would only release them when the police were called. This happened daily, for at least six years. Neither children nor Mental Man ever learned, but Mental Man did at least have an excuse, being mental.
Our junior school was a hippy, seventies attempt at a 'modern educational establishment'. Mr. Leighton led the folk songs and played the guitar while we sang 'Streets Of London', 'Lily The Pink' and 'Eleanor Rigby' during Moot - our agnostic, pre-lunch version of Assembly. Our headmaster drove an orange Bond Bug. We also had two aggressive sheep living in the playground, Pascal and Triangle. Football was a competitive game and therefore frowned upon, even by the sheep, who shat all over the pitch. Is it any wonder I'm such a spasmohican fleacon?
Another description for an uphill gardener, a chutney ferrett, a Picnic Pitcher ... someone who rides the Bournville boulevard from dusk 'til dawn. Basically, a homosexual.
Why is it that whenever I produced a noisy, noxious, chewable grunt - whether it was in a classroom, corridor, library or examination hall, Mrs Parlett would always have sneaked up behind me just in time to 'receive the goods'? She must still wonder what my parents fed me up on. Even if my trump was just the final note from a great orchestral symphony, the expected laughter would never arrive, and I'd get a nudge or a look from one of my fellow 'musicians', which indicated that she had just turned up in time. By the fourth or fifth occasion, I didn't even bother to turn red or look around. I just knew that it was her.
It was generally a breakfast of steaming chocolate Ready Brek, if you must know.
It was generally a breakfast of steaming chocolate Ready Brek, if you must know.