Tim's father worked for Crawley's largest nuclear power plant. He was also left a kilo of cocaine in his grandmother's will. Yet he was modest enough, despite his highly paid father and immense narcotic nest egg, to only wear Le Coq Sportif trainers and NHS glasses.

Dan, Tony and Esa are talking inferior grade gobshit. It is self-evident and unarguable that the term for semen-based anal drippage is, of course, Pugwash.

The name for a child so fat and ungainly that when he falls over, a quick-witted bully has the presence of mind to shout "timber", then pretend that the ground shook.
Technically an insult, should you carry the name into adulthood, you'll be surprised how many people assume you have a gigantic cock. Thanks, that bully!

An old dictionary definition for knickers, was short trousers worn by footballers, and by women as underclothes. This dates back to the time when knickers was short for knickerbockers, you see. It was quite acceptable at one stage in British history for men to say "let's put our knickers on and have a knockabout".
Anyway, the girl discovering this definition would ask the boys if they played football. Of course we did - we were boys. So she replies "you wear knickers", to which we, in turn, would say "don't be stupid".

The circular whirring pads that can be found on industrial floor-buffers.
Any of Catriona's diseases can be passed on by contact with one of these pads.
You were immune from these diseases as long as your contact with the pad was limited to wanging it at someone else.

Harry the New Boy was so incensed at being greeted by the grafitti "Harry Cleans Desks" every time he sat down that he took it upon himself to remove the scrawl off all the surfaces on which it appeared, thus corroborating the allegation.

Perhaps you had to be there.

It seems unlikely that this is really based on serial killer Ted Bundy. We did a similar thing based on WWF wrestling star King Kong Bundy who was something of a legend at an age where we weren't quite convinced that WWF was all fake.

For us provicial (read Leicester) bumpkins, Hamleys had a similar enigmatic reputation.
Dean Sadler insisted for at least 6 months that he had an actual ride-in miniature tank purchased from this mythical wonderland. Fully functioning, he could even store caustic chemicals in empty Kinder Egg shells on a special shelf in the turret.
Every time I went round his 2 bed council house and asked to see it, it was being repaired after some spectacular crash or his dad had banned him from using it for a month and had locked it somewhere.

  • Your whole class tries to stand on the playground bench at once on a windy day, arms out-stretched.
  • Everyone shouts "WILLY WHISTLERS!"
  • Then you all get off again.

This game involves running around "shooting" each other with "guns". Of course, having no uniforms or other way of distinguishing between the two sides you had to ask "Jap or Brit?" before shooting. Luckily, real wars are more organised, with different sides wearing easily distinguishable colours, except for spies, who wear black.