One particularly bored lunchbreak a gang war broke out. One of the school wags had stolen a box of chip forks (the pointless little wooden chip eating implements), and after a football-match-based-argument, the said pupil formed a gang called the Chip forks (I was Chip fork number 9). His rival, not to be out done, formed a gang called the Hoopies (I don't know why they were called this). Hoopies would catch Chip forks and draw large H's on their foreheads with the indelible markers. Eventually, over a number of days, the whole school became divided into Chipforks and Hoopies, and registration after lunch was brightened with the sight of a sea of Blue H's on foreheads (long before Red Dwarf existed). Great days...

Anyone who grows up in a crap town miles from the city will know the excitement of discovering, on a Saturday excursion into Bristol, that some pubs are gay pubs. Pubs for real gay people, to be gay in. We were agog. In the end, we dared Joe to run in, and run out again. Just to see what happened, like. I think we thought it would be something like running into a crowded chicken shed, and Joe would come flying out followed by a burst of feathers, glitter, and a gaggle of irate, clucking homosexual men. This didn't happen. Sadly.

Raise the volume and tempo on the keyboard to maximum. Then, start the Bossa Nova drum pattern. This will transform a GCSE music class into an impromptu early-90s hardcore techno dance club.
Recreate the rave piano effect by pressing one note with the forefinger of each hand, like a retarded typist.

I know! Lets' get the dog to lick our cocks!
[pause as we tried to work out if he was joking]
Brilliant idea! That'd be amazing! You go first!
[he wasn't joking]

Self explanatory nickname given to Emma Francis - a girl with too many hormones. To make matters worse, she had her first period in the canteen. Can't help being slightly jealous though - it took me another 7 years to acquire the same amount of facial hair.

Isn't this meant to be a site for capers and chicanery of your school years ? This reads more like a social services dossier. What next? "How we used to fist Barry and shit on his chest"?
[log]Readers. Did you used to fist barry and shit on his chest? If you did, please submit your story to The Law of the Playground, the world's premier resource for underage scatfistery. Seriously, Monty, we don't know what we are, and clearly neither do our contributors. So just roll with it.[/log]

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The Chocolate Cock (paraphrased)
from "The Talking Teapot and Other Tales" by Enid Blyton

Once there was a piece of chocolate in the shape of a cock. The chocolate cock stood right in the very middle of a sweet-shop window, and all the children came to look at him. He was very proud of himself indeed - as would you be, if you were a huge delicious brown cock.

"I am the Chocolate Cock!" he crowed. "I am the Chocolate Cock! I am the handsomest bird in the world, for I am the Chocolate Cock!"

He was marked a shilling, and none of the children that came to look at the cock could afford to buy him. They just stood and looked at him, to drink in the staggering beauty of the massive over-priced chocolate cock they all wanted so badly to stick in their mouths and drag across their bodies, stencilling the edge of their bot-bots.

Sometimes the feelings in their tummies, a hunger that could not be sated by any other food, led the children to experiment with each other in front of the cock, while it looked at them with its imperious, milky eye. But one day the wife of the Duke of Edinburgh visited the shop, and said she didn't like all the little boys fucking each other outside his shop, so he got a farmer to kill them.

The ultimate form of the peanut, however, is the potentially mythical Atomic Peanut, where the knot becomes so small that a tiny explosion makes the kipper snap off.

Mr Darling, our secondary school Physics teacher took great delight in watching me snap a shatterproof ruler into pieces by mistake, whilst testing the limits of its bendiness.

"Just because it's shatter proof, doesn't mean it's unbreakable" he smugly exclaimed.

Well why didn't you tell me that before I wasted 50p on a non-indestructible ruler then, you twat? I could have bought two packets of crisps at break for that.

When in 1st year in secondary school an (entirely unfounded) rumour spread like wildfire that someone in a different class had been caught wanking with a hoover. The poor bastard had the whole school running up and shouting 'HOOOOOOOVER!' and 'VROOOOOOOOOOOO!' in his face, whilst mimicking the movement of hoover to genitals. This not only forced him to leave the school, but move to an entirely different TOWN. His name? Jeremy Dyson.
Not really.