Combination of 'quadroplegic' and 'donkey'. And that's it.

An ever-evolving gentlemen's society which began by setting up a club where three of us would all cram ourselves into a big drawer under a friend's bed and pull it closed.

When the (clearly) limited point of such a club was realised, it evolved its practices thusly:

Reading comics in the drawer.
Reading comics next to the drawer.
Putting George in the drawer.
Putting George in the drawer until he begged for release.
Hitting George.
Stealing from George.

The society was forced to disband with the arrival of homemade ninja weapons and a trip to hospital for George and his newly grounded friends.

After the release of Total Recall, we happily had a kid in our year called Quiad, the name of Arnold's hero in the film. A rather routine session of imitating the alien/mutant's cries of "Quaaaaaaaaid" until he started crying became elevated slightly when his older brother found him, and asked him why he was so upset. When little Quaid said "They keep calling me Quaid", big Quaid simply replies "It's your name, you stupid cunt," and punches him in the face.

A vaginal fart. Also useful for attracting the attention of Keith, who will say "what?" Hilarity will be waiting just around the corner.

My Canadian girlfriend insists that in her country of birth, a vaginal fart is called a 'quiff'. This makes it very difficult to talk about Elvis, Morrissey or my own hairstyle without her erupting into fits of laughter.

Maybe she's just taking the piss out of your RIDICULOUS HAIRCUT. Especially when you consider that your nickname is Squiff- Matt

A cruel and unusual punishment, wherein the intended victim is held very firmly to the floor. Then, whoever has the sweatiest ringpeice pulls down his own pants and gently lowers it onto the nose of the receiver. Why this is called a Queenie, I don't know.

The form of career guidance that takes into account your grades, your personal strengths, your desires, and your requests of wonderful careers such as 'monkey butler' or 'sock puppet trainer', and tells you to enter accountancy.

There was a bizarre computer program at our school where you entered your potential grades in GCSE/A Level, filled in a questionnaire about your likes and dislikes, and in return got a list of jobs that were right for you. I got 'Blacksmith' and 'Fast Food Manager'. Fortunately, the accuracy of the offending program has been proved to be questionable at best. Though I suppose it would be quite nice, being a blacksmith.

This was called a Cascade form and you did indeed do the above. I was told that I should be a Gold and Silver Jewellery Maker. I now work as an Internet Manager.

cor - which internet do you manage?

I think the whole Cascade system was programmed by disaffected wimmin.

Anybody else have a comparative career development? Did you take the Cascade Form and actually become a blacksmith? And if the program actually recommends blacksmithery, did anyone get advised to become a Knight's Squire, or a Sales Assistant at the local Apothecary?

We did a similar one called Jig-Cal or somesuch. It suggested I become a Parole Officer; Butch Garry was instructed to become a roof-hanger and Camp Kevin's career was to be a Florist.

A couple of years ago I can remember people in my class getting things like 'lifeguard' and the ubiquitous 'undertaker', but i think i hold the claim to the best career ever suggested.

Scientific Glass Blower. Honestly.

We also did a Jig-Cal. I (and possibly only 3 other people in the year) were told to become leather technologists. Quite what leather technology is I don't know but we were advised that you could do a course in it at some dubious ex polytechnic university in England.

I did Cascaid - and take serious issue with the 'aid' part of the name. It told me to be a Pet Shop Owner. I am a magazine editor.

I distinctly remember jiig-cal advising me to go into fish farm management.

On a related topic I told the Trident work experience people of my love for animals, and my desire to work with them. I was sent to the notoriously cruel animal testing lab at Huntingdon Life Science.

We also used Jig-Cal. In the days when children were better programmers than adults, one friend managed to adapt the program so that whatever choices you made, no matter how much you loved animals or wigs, you were always advised to give up your education and become a Mujahadeen Freedom Fighter immediately.

I was told I should be a photographer's assistant. I'm now a teacher, and took the test again, to see if my results would be changed by world experience, and a more profound insight into the workings of the program.

Nope. Photographer's assistant.

Everybody in my year (and I do mean everybody) got "Marine Biologist" and "Funeral Director" as two of their choices. There was obviously something wrong with the program, but I can't talk about it now. I've got funerals to direct and deep sea divers to cremate.