We had all been told that we had to be careful around Nigel. He wasn't allowed to eat chocolate, or drink delicious fizzy pops. Earwax was OK - he'd shovel that stuff straight in. He didn't eat bogeys, though - he stored those in his pencil case.

One morning our teacher walked in ashen faced and quietly explained that Nigel would not be coming to school any more. He had moved a long way away.

Our bewildered but trauma-free response clearly wasn't enough for her, as she let out the cry "Nigel is DEAD!".

Unable to process this early brush with mortality as a tragedy, we'd simply echo her heartfelt outburst in the playground, to punctuate a wide range of antics. In some cases, this would continue well into our twenties.

Nigel is still dead.

One fat kid's persecution was average to low, until one day a weak-minded teacher tried to make us feel sympathy. In a catastrophically stupid attempt to get us to like the big lizard, we were told that the fat kid could not wear boy's trousers, but had to have old man's trousers cut off just below the knee. The result was, spectacularly enough, a barrage of abuse that resulted in a watershed moment of growing up, the first time I heard a contemporary say "cunt", as in "Ha ha, you wear old man's trousers you fat stinking cunt." Marvellous.

A: Have you heard?
B: Heard what?
A: Have you heard?
B: What?
A: Have you heard the jokes that they don't tell gays?
B: [hopefully] No.
A: That's because they don't tell gays!

Obviously, 'gays' can be amended to 'dykes', or whatever best suits the circumstances. It spoils it a bit if they say "yes". And then say, "sorry, I can't tell you them".

My friend accidentally trod on a sparrow as we were walking along the lane to school. Readers may be interested to know that sparrows go 'crunch' and not 'splat'. I didn't look at its eyes.

Reworking of the classic Fudge advert jingle.
A finger of Fudge is just enough
Until it's time to eat
A finger of Fudge is just enough
To give your kids false teeth
It's full of Cadbury's concrete
And very hard to eat...

Wholly innacurate, as a finger of Fudge left in a bag all morning often acquired the soft texture of a freshly laid dog's plop.

My suggestion to all budding toilet mountaineers is to buy a Leatherman. After reading this story I have studied many lavatory doors, and one day soon I plan to take out every public toilet in the city centre.

This is exactly what we want. Let's hope we make it into the newspapers. - Matt

Pete Beal's Banana Bowl was, in fact, a style of cricketing bowl in which the ball takes a curving approach to the wicket.

Third the Nerd the Golden Bird (?), Fourth the Dork, and we never bothered to get to fifth.

One might notice this doesn't even pretend to make sense.

Meadowbank station (in Sydney) used to change their signs on quite a regular basis. They seem to have given up these days.

"Please vacate this seat for elderly or disabled passengers" can also be made into "Please eat elderly or disabled passengers", with hilarious consequences.

Turning on the gas in chemistry and putting a lighter to it. Obvious really. Best time was when Colin Stone lost his carefully combed and hairsprayed, nu-romantic fringe in a puff of foul-smelling smoke.