Leathering of the anus, due to excess buggery.

Walking home from school with your mates? Found a nice, fresh dog poo? The conditions are perfect, so why not play the Poo Game?
Stand face to face with your mate, the poo between you, and link hands over the poo in a soldier's grip. The name of the game is to push and pull your mate until he steps in the poo.
Simple, effective, entertaining. Best practiced when your mate is wearing new shoes with good, deep treads.

I know a senior academic at the British Museum who is still, at the age of 40-something, trying to convince people to call him JD in the hope that it will make him seem mean, moody and magnificent.
Rather than a spazz. Called Jeremy.

In days of old when knights were bold,
And johnnies weren't invented.
They had to wrap their cocks in socks,
To keep the wives contented.
Towards the end of the Dark Ages, women were becoming more aware of their own sexual needs. Here we see how early sock contraception could be adapted to heighten and enhance the pleasure for both partners, as well as preventing unwanted babies and AIDS.

In an attempt to assimilate our one black pupil into the local population, we were all invited to his birthday party. Just before this event, our headmaster held a special assembly to explain why some people were black and some were white.
Everybody was born originally black, but because this was a dirty colour, God made a big lake and everybody had to have a wash in it. So, everybody came and bathed and washed off their blackness and became white.
But, the lake was drying up and so there was only enough water for some to wash their hands and feet.
A great story, for many reasons - its mindbending racism, for one. Also the implication that God just didn't bother refilling the lake, and thought "fuck it, let 'em stay black".

I always got 'masseuse';
I suspect they meant 'whore'.

Further Catch 22-ery.

"Do you sleep with Tony Hart?"

When the victim (it had to be a he, for obvious reasons) replied in the negative you could smugly answer "what, you haven't got a toe a knee and a heart, cripple?"

Obviously an affirmative answer is too, too dark to even consider.

In 5th year Geography I knocked my pencil case onto the floor at the end of the lesson. I bent to pick it up and experienced a very definite *slapping* sensation across my buttocks. I stood up and slowly turned around. Amazingly, there was Mr Nicholas holding a ruler. The pupils left in the classroom were staring in shocked silence. The teacher laughed nervously and said "Sorry Susanna, but some targets are too good to resist."
Nice save sir. Nice.
Peter Sutcliffe writes: Oh bum! If only I'd thought of that, rather than my frankly piss-poor 'God told me to do it' defence!

The inevitable nickname of short, rotund, gurning English teacher Miss Fitzpatrick.

Man with Jack-in-the-box, The, noun phrase.
Best known example of a freestyle epic narration (a form of oral storytelling in which profoundly eccentric characters have endless serial adventures in a world that is in various unforeseeable ways hostile to their existence).
A story featuring a man cursed with the possession - which he could never put down - of a large jack-in-the-box whose 'jack' could spring to a height of twenty metres; an optimistic young girl; a monk who had mastered a meditative technique in which one relocated one's own centre of gravity to a point some way in front of oneself (this made walking impossible; he could only fall from place to place), and other minor figures. This trio encounters many trials as they negotiate, for example, perilous roof gardens made of papier mache and corridors which contrary to the laws of perspective, physically narrow to a single point.
The story was developed by the boys who didn't play touch football.