During a particularly inspired bout of smelt it dealt it with my sister, I was overjoyed to come up with 'The one who told the story did the glory'. Despite my best efforts it never moved into common parlance, and with hindsight I see why.
Q: How do you kill 100 flies with one blow?
A: Punch an Ethiopian.
(6/10, Good twist on the Jack the Giant Killer fable of "seven in one blow")
Q: How did the Grand Canyon Form?
A: An Ethiopian went on holiday dropped a pea down a rabbit hole.
(3/10, if just one Ethiopian went on holiday, there'd hardly be a canyon-forming rush to get the pea, would there? I mean, Americans wouldn't get out of bed for anything smaller than a gigantic pea pie.)
A: Punch an Ethiopian.
(6/10, Good twist on the Jack the Giant Killer fable of "seven in one blow")
Q: How did the Grand Canyon Form?
A: An Ethiopian went on holiday dropped a pea down a rabbit hole.
(3/10, if just one Ethiopian went on holiday, there'd hardly be a canyon-forming rush to get the pea, would there? I mean, Americans wouldn't get out of bed for anything smaller than a gigantic pea pie.)
A more controlled version of "pencil fencing" (qv). At primary school, someone said that if you poked your skin with a sharp pencil, a bit of the lead (ie. graphite) would be left behind under your skin, which (as far as we knew) was a real tattoo. We all tried it, but, speaking personally, any marks that were made just washed off. Easily.
This reminds me of 'The Turd'. I was a first year, still wet behind the ears, and with a smaller cock that may or may not have had pubes, I cannot remember. Upon entering the toilet for a nervous, wide-eyed, innocent piss, I came across an enormous crowd of 4th years laughing like drains. Tall, scary, drains. I didn't know why, so I snuck in a cubicle to do wee. This turned out to be a mistake.
Inside the bowl was, quite simply, the biggest shit I have ever seen in my life. It made you wince just to look at it. It was ridiculous - eye-fucking in its impossibly monstrous dimensions. A note taped to the cistern read "Property of ***** - do not flush!" (The stars are there because I cannot recall the name, not to preserve the dignity of the Bearer - I imagine they had little in the first place)
Well, here was a to-do. I needed wee bad, but here was a massive assausage stopping me. The sensible thing to do would have been to go somewhere else to piss - but back then I still had a small amount of pride, and somehow it seemed so WRONG to have my life dictated by a big shit rather than Fate. I got out cock and pissed. Hollers from outside the cubicle accompanied the golden stream's slow-motion journey towards the bowl, brown whale waiting, glinting, silently. I zipped up, sweating and scared.
Flushing would be a step too far - although a small part of my mind, rational despite the panic, piped up to say "Flushing? Are you fucking joking? Nothing less than a controlled explosion is even going to DENT that fucker."
I took a deep breath (not too deep) and decided to act like a manchild. I would have to be proud of my decision to sully the waters of the BumTrout. I calmly opened the cubicle door, and met the accusatory stares of a dozen lads.
"He pissed on The Turd!" bellowed one, pointing.
"I didn't flush it!" I wailed. Then I ran. I never saw The Turd again.
Inside the bowl was, quite simply, the biggest shit I have ever seen in my life. It made you wince just to look at it. It was ridiculous - eye-fucking in its impossibly monstrous dimensions. A note taped to the cistern read "Property of ***** - do not flush!" (The stars are there because I cannot recall the name, not to preserve the dignity of the Bearer - I imagine they had little in the first place)
Well, here was a to-do. I needed wee bad, but here was a massive assausage stopping me. The sensible thing to do would have been to go somewhere else to piss - but back then I still had a small amount of pride, and somehow it seemed so WRONG to have my life dictated by a big shit rather than Fate. I got out cock and pissed. Hollers from outside the cubicle accompanied the golden stream's slow-motion journey towards the bowl, brown whale waiting, glinting, silently. I zipped up, sweating and scared.
Flushing would be a step too far - although a small part of my mind, rational despite the panic, piped up to say "Flushing? Are you fucking joking? Nothing less than a controlled explosion is even going to DENT that fucker."
I took a deep breath (not too deep) and decided to act like a manchild. I would have to be proud of my decision to sully the waters of the BumTrout. I calmly opened the cubicle door, and met the accusatory stares of a dozen lads.
"He pissed on The Turd!" bellowed one, pointing.
"I didn't flush it!" I wailed. Then I ran. I never saw The Turd again.
My primary school had a lesbian for a headteacher, who was seeing the deputy headteacher, also a lesbian. Another teacher, Paul 'Pogo' Patterson was gay, and used to frequent local gay club Ruby's. Whether this club existed or not, I have yet to figure out.
I shit you not.
I shit you not.
Everyone knows that Swastikas are funny. Especially when drawn on a rubber, in reverse with permanent ink and then stamped on my friend's forehead during a German lesson.
Steve was the best ice cream man ever. He was pale, but his ice lollies were cheap and tasty and he had the coolest afro that I've ever seen. Unfortunately, Steve let us down big style when he left for Australia and was replaced by a new ice-cream guy...Dino.
The guy was Italian and scary. The ice cream tasted weird and we told him Steve's was way better. He smiled and winked and told us that HIS ice cream was better because "It's full of the stuff that little girl's need and little boys know about" He laughed and handed over his "ice cream".
The guys loved him and used to rush out shouting "Deeeeeeno! Deeeeeeeno!" thinking that this guy was just the dogs bollocks...the girls used to avoid that side of the playground altogether and Dino eventually disappeared once a girl in Year 10 claimed that he tried to grab her. We never got a new ice cream man. Thank God.
The guy was Italian and scary. The ice cream tasted weird and we told him Steve's was way better. He smiled and winked and told us that HIS ice cream was better because "It's full of the stuff that little girl's need and little boys know about" He laughed and handed over his "ice cream".
The guys loved him and used to rush out shouting "Deeeeeeno! Deeeeeeeno!" thinking that this guy was just the dogs bollocks...the girls used to avoid that side of the playground altogether and Dino eventually disappeared once a girl in Year 10 claimed that he tried to grab her. We never got a new ice cream man. Thank God.
In certain circles (such as the US Military), B.C.G. stands for birth control glasses, referring to the thick lensed and framed specs that could prevent most anybody from being pulled. Nerd Glasses.
I am the most pathetic bully ever. All I did was steal one epaulette off her winter coat and hide it in the pocket. And call her 'Susie'.
Michael Michael Motorcycle,
Turn the key and watch him pee.
The stock schoolyard chant for when you wanted to torment someone by the name of Michael for no other reason than the fact that his name was Michael.
Other popular variants include "John John Leprechaun", who also did a pee when you turned a key.
Turn the key and watch him pee.
The stock schoolyard chant for when you wanted to torment someone by the name of Michael for no other reason than the fact that his name was Michael.
Other popular variants include "John John Leprechaun", who also did a pee when you turned a key.