A club to which new or stupid pupils were told it was desirable to belong to. Membership was obtained by standing on one of the wooden benches which marked the boundary between boys and girls recreation areas and shouting 'I am a cunt!'

Your status within the club was determined by the number of shouts achieved. For instance a 25-cunter obviously outranked a 12-cunter. The shouts had to be audible to a panel of judges who stood at a safe distance.

Iain Grant's claim to be a hundred-cunter was dismissed as it was achieved outside school hours. If a teacher was on playground duty each shout counted as a shout and a half for scoring purposes.

The highest verified status was Mark Jeffries' 43-cunter and the lowest was for a shout of 'I am' followed by a punch in the stomach.

Rival clubs, such as 'I am a Bastard' and the boundary-stretching 'I am a fucking cunt' never really caught on.

A song to the tune of Matt Bianco's cover of "Yeah Yeah".

I am a mongol, and i run around town,
and people hit me on my water filled crown,
it took me two months just to do up my tie,
I had an option to do it or die,
I say uuuurr uuuurrr.

John Connors was asked to sing it in assembly as the english teacher thought it was called "I am a Moron". Connors was put in detention and had to write a letter of apology to Mrs Ware who had a down syndrome child and had run out of assembly crying. This all seemed rather unfair.

It was a commonly held belief in my school that all robots moved their arms like Hazel O'Connor in 'Breaking Glass' and went around saying 'I am a robot' in Dalek voices and did nothing else. This bore no relation to the two (non-fictional) robots anyone had seen: 'Bigtrak' a kind of tank thing that fetched apples for your dad and shot the dog, and Hero 1, essentially a robot arm on top of a radio controlled car. Unless you count Twiki of course, he was real.

Natural target Mark regularly used to try this as a mental defence mechanism whenever he was subjected to physical torture, involving him saying "I AM A ROBOT. YOU CAN NOT HURT ME." in a metallic-sounding voice. This statement stood in stark opposition to the fact that we could, and did.

Years before the Borg in Star Trek, kids at my school would wander around woodenly, saying "I-AM-A-ROBOT", and if they pressed their fists against the side of your neck, you became a robot too. This was quite inconvenient, as many of us wanted to play other things, but there was an unspoken rule that if you were turned into a robot, you had to stop whatever you were doing and go and turn other kids into robots.

When the number of robots rapidbly began to outnumber the number of non-robots, we few remaining survivors decided to retaliate, and thus created "Cut-circuits", which were good robots that destroyed the robot circuitry that the robots had put into the kids, and turned them back into humans again. These kids were then free to go back to playing football or beating each other up or whatever it was they were doing. This, however, proved to be the fatal flaw in their design - cut-circuits didn't turn you into one of them, they merely turned you human again, which meant that they were fighting a losing battle, as the robots could multiply much faster than they could.

Things were looking desperate for us few remaining humans, until finally one of us hit upon the brilliant idea of just telling any robots that tried to assimilate us to piss off. And that was the end of that.

John Hoggart used to march around the football field saying "NOTHING STANDS IN MY WAY" in a robot voice.

Using all the lessons you've learned from this website about human behaviour, can you guess what happened?

That's right! He was abducted, tortured to insanity, given bionic implants and made to fight polar bears. After ten years of battling the Arctic beasts, his implants were obsolete, and he was dumped on a glacier and left to sail away. This icy island sailed into mediterranean waters, and John Hoggart's still-sentient corpse was sailed around on an inflatable banana to ward off pirates. He was buried vertically, and two snakes now use his skull as a home. They are very much in love, and every morning they pop their head out of an eye socket each, and do a kiss.

Oh, you know I'm doing a fib, don't you? I'll come clean; people just stood in his way.

During a Humanities lesson, our teacher was astonished (and completely terrified) by the sight of Dennis bursting into the room with a hammer from woodwork and wearing a crudely fashioned paper beard. He announced: "I am Sutcliffe!", did a twisty dance, and ran from the room. Where Dennis had come up with this piece of theatre is anybody's guess but he had many a detention to mull over his behaviour. But, try as they might, they couldn't break the would-be serial killer, and he signed my shirt "the youkshire ripper fan-club" on the last day of school. I hope he doesn't drive a lorry now!

Kid A: What's the ninth letter of the alphabet?
Kid B (pause while fingers are counted on): I
Kid A: What colour is the sky?
Kid B: Blue
Kid A: What's the opposite of on?
Kid B: Off
Kid A: Euuuurrrrr! You blew off!

You blew off! Hey everyone, [Kid A] just said "I blew off"! This works best if you run around doing it to as many people as you can, because it's only a matter of time before everyone has heard it. And if that doesn't happen, there's only a brief period in your life when you will be childish enough for it to be funny.

Alternatively:

A: What's your name?
B: B
A: (Point to your nose) What's this?
B: Nose
A: (Hold your hand out) What am I carrying?
B: Nothing
A: B knows nothing! He said so himself! He's shouting it from the rooftops!

My primary school's old assistant head told us at assembly once:

"If someone makes fun of you for not having the latest fashionable gear or a brand new bike or something, just tell them you can't afford it - that'll shut them up."

Even aged about 7, we knew that was a really fucking bad idea.

Classic reply to the belligerent "what are you staring at?"

Also consider, "dunno, the label's dropped off", "dunno, but it's staring back", and "a cunt".

From the same school as are you looking at me or chewing a brick?, the punchline to which - either way you lose your teeth - I didn't know when I was young, so I assumed it was something to do with the face you pulled when you were staring at the person. But, if you looked at someone and pulled a face like you were chewing a brick, that would probably mean that the other person was really ugly, so it made no sense that that other person would draw attention to your disgusted reaction to him.

I understand now, but this was a real worry to me at the time.

The mantra of one, evidently peace-loving gentleman at my school.

The only confusion arose from his body language - the fact his olive branch was offered to an unaggressive child, whom he was punching again and again in the face, made it all seem just a touch more psychotic than everyday violence.

The brilliantly misguided defense used by a contemptible shit in my year by the name of Ben Wilbur, when encircled by a group of 12-year olds, doubtless virgins themselves, mocking him for not ever getting his oats.

He was roundly hated before he revealed he'd spaffed in his sister, but after that bullying efforts were trebled on the irritating twat (he used to get in your face and make a noise like Snarf out of the Thundercars, the cunt), culminating in the most astonishing display of mass youthful brutality I've ever seen, nay, been party to. To win some friends, he climbed onto the school roof one lunchtime to retrieve a football. Seeing him up there, prancing round like a cock, made some sort of collective tolerance get breached, and suddenly the hapless wank was bombarded with rocks – even the fucking prefects were joining in, loner girls who'd never been heard to speak were fucking pelting the git and baying for blood. Mad, sad, and a little frightening. The whole school got bollocked immediately after lunch in the only emergency assembly we'd ever had, with Ben getting carted off in an ambulace.

I wonder if I'm the only one thinking that you all sound like a far greater bunch of cunts then him?

At the age of eight, we managed to convince pikey Sophie James that having an orgasm was a terrible thing, by admonishing "Don't have an orgasm, Sophie" every time she showed the slightest hint of excitement. After about the millionth time, the phrase would set her off into a monumental tantrum: she'd screech, stamp her feet, bellow "I HAVEN'T HAD AN ORGASM!", and run off to cry in the toilets.

Fifteen years later, I can't help wondering if she still does this when her boyfriend asks her "Did you come, dear?"

See What You Say Is What You Are.

During primary school Christmas dinner in the mid-to-late 80's, it was customary to announce "I now have the honour of eating a potato" in a Margaret Thatcher voice before stuffing an entire hot roast potato into our mouths. We would maintan an expression of pained satisfaction as steam shot out from our ears.

If you are of the lower castes, and a higher ranking child says this to you with his hand outstretched and welcoming, run. Run away.

The best you can expect is a crushing handshake.

But it's rarely a lone wolf attack - to risk approaching someone as unpopular as you, there's usually going to be a bigger payoff. Chances are you'll be held in place while others come to laugh at the fact you dared to want or expect friendship. Often, there is violence.

Finally, the crowd will be overjoyed if the injustice causes you to howl "you liiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeed" before losing conscousness. They know they lied. That was the whole point. No wonder you get picked on.