Being a little pr**k as a kid - we all did it.

For starters, they always had comfy bum rather than that Izal “scratch and sniff” shit that’s now sold in Halfords as 60 Grit.

Not the one I remember so well. It was on the 2nd floor of the main school building and the water pressure wasnt up to the job of running the toilets etc. The room was used to store school supplies, much of which was stored in big cardboard boxes.

Thats where and on what, as a young, dumb and full etc. first-year, I ploughed my first furrow.
 
Not me this one but only because it never crossed my mind.

Science lesson and the rite of passage that involves the teacher dropping small chunks of Sodium into water. All very impressive but like all Science teachers, he has to take the fun out of it by explaining how it turns the water alkaline or some such shit. He’s back to the class, scrawling stuff on the blackboard leaving an inviting chunk of Sodium (about thumb size as nonce TV chefs would have it) in a little dish on the front bench.

We had a kid who was a bit, well, severely spesh in the class, some kind of early Care In The Community thing I guess. He just picks the dish up, tips it in one of those sinks sunk into the bench and turns the tap on.

Things got quite confused for a while as the teacher lost it in the most spectacular fashion, the room filled with choking white smoke and little bits of fizzing and spitting Sodium and the sink cracked flooding the room with (alkaline) water. Awesome.

All subsequent years just read about Sodium in books and I’ve no idea whatever became of the teacher. Spesh ended up rounding up supermarket trollies and I think posts on here occasionally under various names.
 
We used to take the inners out of Biros and use them as a pea shooter for well chewed up paper that we'd torn out of the back of our exercise books. The "bullets" would usually stick to whatever surface they hit as well and the range was pretty good. When the teacher had their back to us while writing on the blackboard we'd fire shots at the wall or ceiling next to them to see how many we could get to stick before the teacher spun round saying "Who was that" and we'd all just be sat there looking innocent. When you look back at it with adult eyes you can see why so many of them go off with stress, and why everyone who goes into teaching just wants to teach junior school kids before they become teenage shitbags!
We used to cut the ends off our laces, fluff the ends up, then push a pin through which we’d stolen from the Home Ec room, then fire the homemade darts from our biro tubes. Hannah the class fat chick’s arse got butchered every time we threw her pencil case on the floor
 
My adolescent antics seem pretty tame in comparison: air rifle poaching, illegal fishing, scrumping etc. All good kids stuff. Illegally obtained fireworks were the pinnacle of horseplay, but back then (80s), you could only get fireworks in November. So in the long summer holidays, alternatives had to be sought. The tale of primitive IEDs ensued:

The dad of one of my mates had a collection of shotguns, all safely locked away, but his ammunition wasn't. The sight of hundreds of live cartridges was like a curry to a pisshead to bored and "scientifically curious" 12 year olds.

We initially experimented with homemade claymores using mecanno to form the breech to hold a cartridge, and trigger mechanism operated by a command wire to release the spring-loaded firing pin. We attempted to use it to blast pigeons after scattering bread in the killing zone - very unsuccessful - yanking the wire scared the birds. We soon got bored.

I suggested that we made a bomb. I'm not sure why? We began cutting open the cartridges to extract the powder. It was a slow process. Initially we had enough to half-fill a 35mm film canister (remember those?!), with an extended fuse made of petrol soaked string it went bang, well, more of a fizz-pop. Disappointing.

Now, being 12, I didn't fully understand the science of sympathetic-detonations, but I knew a percussion cap would initiate a secondary explosion, as opposed to a just a fizz-pop. And we needed more bang, so more powder. We must have sliced open at least 30 cartridges to obtain a reasonable pile of black-golddust.

Next, we required a housing for our device. A standard tin, jar or coke can was too big, but back then you could get half-size tins: beans, sausage & beans, spaghetti hoops etc - I dunno if they still exist - as luck would have it, it was lunch time and we had one such tin available. After a hurried lunch of cold beans and sausage, we cleaned the tin and used a hole cutter to bore out a housing for a brass cartridge end before carefully cutting off the cartridge head and securing it in place with some araldite glue.

In the shed we carefully poured the powder into the housing, which in reality had become a huge shell! My initial idea was to load the tin with all of the buckshot that we had amassed and create a pigeon massacre, but this would require adapting the firing mechanism to stealth mode, we didn't have time for that as I knew my mum would be home within the hour. We decided to conduct a test firing to check the principle and then we could work on the mechanism the next day for the pigeon Armageddon.

We jumped on our bikes and rode to a near-by wood which would be our test facility. At this point its worth saying two things, firstly I lived in a semi-rural area, so gun-shot, crow-scarers etc was not that unusual, but secondly, it was also at the height of the IRA mainland campaign and there were two barracks relatively close by (within 5/6 miles either direction). Lest to say, we never really considered the second point, but thought any sounds of shot would be hidden in the noise of the former.

We had adapted the original meccono to take the bigger shell housing, and the firing mechanism was the same sprung-loaded command wire. At the last minute I remembered reading something about WW2 artillery and compression of explosives enhanced the power, we paused temporary, as I dug out some heavy clay/mud and compressed it into the open side of the tin, using the disc from the top of the tin as a wad enabled a good tight compression. The tin was jam packed and felt very solid. We secured it to the ground and dressed back probably 20m, the command wire was a thick, strong nylon type.

Adie, my mucker had donated the powder so he had the pleasure to fire, so on a count of 3-2-1 he was to detonate....we took cover behind a fallen tree, like we'd seen in the WW2 commando comics...

3.....2.....1.....FU~CKI~ING BOOM....

To this day, and having been in proximity to explosions since, I don't recall ever being genuinely shocked & shaken by such an explosion. We literally shit ourselves and immediately went into self-preservation mode, firstly by trying to recover the device...aside from bits of meccanno stuck in tree bark, there was nothing left. We gathered what was left of the command wire, covered up the firing point and made a hasty exit. We agreed to tell nobody.

We made our way to the nearby rec where most kids hung put, playing football, riding bikes etc. Back then, adults didn't take their kids to the park, we were just left to our own devices, so we had to form cast iron alibis and quick! We joined in a kick about with some younger kids, before being joined by some lads from our year...they asked us if we'd heard about the bomb going off at the barracks....we said we'd heard something, but wasn't sure as we'd been here playing footy for hours, the little kids said nowt....!!

Tea-time came, now my mum could smell a rat a mile off, but by coming home slightly muddy, with a ball and Aidie, both hungry and needing tea, raised no suspicions. She was more concerned with recent events and trying to get news of the bomb at the barracks...we never messed about with homemade pyro again!

I gave up on the first couple of your mentioned activitys after my last of a few running and E+E events cruising to a comfortable win in the Dorset poachers Vs game keepers 10 k . capture would have resulted in a fairly serious criminal record.
Lost my leatherman when getting over a fence .
After getting rid of my "equipment" I gained a permission and became more of a game keeper pest controller.
I was 46 .
 
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For those who know the strength of a good German firework will related this.
Early 90’s prior to joining up, me and Stacker were wandering around MG ******* about with fireworks, blowing shit up etc. We posted an absolute monster in to a bottle bank, the resulting contained explosion, plumes of smoke and sound of smashing glass made two old German women throw themselves to the floor in terror.
They must have relived an allied air raid while me and Stacker pissed ourselves laughing.
Feel a tad guilty about it now, not too much though, they did invent the V-Bomb after all.
 
Ravers school sounds a bit like mine. Interestingly Mrs KoR worked for the local police and recognises plenty of names from my old school.
Was a bit of a little shit looking back, but probably no more than most kids; there were plenty of headcases in my year to take care of that. They were mostly into violence. I just wanted to get my exams done and get away from them ASAP.

But I came to prominence as I discovered items called "Detonators". Being a bit nerdy and into trains, trucks, tanks, etc I knew about such things. Used by the railway to signal danger, you put them on the rail and they make a loud bang when crushed by passing train. Loud enough for the driver to hear.

Trying to ingratiate myself with the "bad lads" , ostensibly so I could avoid the violence, I told them about these things and they insisted I show them where they can be found.
Basically in the cab ends of DMUs and Locos in the railway yards. Long story short, they went and nicked some. I ended up holding a tube of 10 "until we need them".
Word quickly spread about these things and LOADS were getting stolen and it made it to the local paper IIRC.
Eventually one of the bad lads (last I heard in 2011 he was up for burglary with 154 previous offences) brought some into school. One lunchtime they managed to set one off on the school field and the shit hit the fan.

I was implicated as the source and found myself in an office with the Deputy Head, Head of Year and a couple of serious Transport Police officers. Uh-Oh!
I explained that I had been merely the source of the information, I hadn't trespassed into the yard or taken anything(which was true).
"But Bad Lads say you have some too, they gave you them" (ooh the fcuking grasses). Thinking that if I wasn't in possession of them then I would be OK, I lied and said I had thrown them away into a field next to our house.
I was sent back to class. A few hours later I was called out of class and sent home as the Police wanted me to show them where I had thrown them. Get home to see 2 dozen coppers have been doing a finger tip sweep of the field searching and couldn't find them.
That was because they were in the bottom of my wardrobe, wrapped in two jumpers in case they went off.
Having confessed and handed them over the BTP were pretty good about it and I got chat about how dangerous they were, etc.
And there ended my criminal activities..... until I got to RMAS ;-)
Ah..we share a similar history!!

 
Not me this one but only because it never crossed my mind.

Science lesson and the rite of passage that involves the teacher dropping small chunks of Sodium into water. All very impressive but like all Science teachers, he has to take the fun out of it by explaining how it turns the water alkaline or some such shit. He’s back to the class, scrawling stuff on the blackboard leaving an inviting chunk of Sodium (about thumb size as nonce TV chefs would have it) in a little dish on the front bench.

We had a kid who was a bit, well, severely spesh in the class, some kind of early Care In The Community thing I guess. He just picks the dish up, tips it in one of those sinks sunk into the bench and turns the tap on.

Things got quite confused for a while as the teacher lost it in the most spectacular fashion, the room filled with choking white smoke and little bits of fizzing and spitting Sodium and the sink cracked flooding the room with (alkaline) water. Awesome.

All subsequent years just read about Sodium in books and I’ve no idea whatever became of the teacher. Spesh ended up rounding up supermarket trollies and I think posts on here occasionally under various names.
Our chemistry lab at school had a huge burn mark above the sink that had been there years, it had been painted round several times. It was left as a visible demo as why you don’t put potassium down the plug hole...
 
Did anyone have the disecting bulls eyes in Biology thing?

They were the perfect size to launch as a grenade from the back of the packed bus on the way home frrom school.
Done properly, on the top deck of the bus (where all the cool kids went) if you smashed it into the front windows with an over-arm swing- you could cover the first 2 or 3 rows in bovine ocular gloop from the resultant splodge.

I only saw it done properly a few times.
When I tried it, I failed miserably and ended up bouncing it off the side of a bird's head who I'd fancied for feck knows how long.

Doing a Jim Bowen Bullseye impression and shouting "Iiiiiin One!" prior to launch was probably not the best idea I ever had either.
Needless to say..I never did manage to get off with her.
 
My brother had two convicted murderers in his class by the time that he was fifteen.
I myself had one.
To say that the decision to leave the institution was a good idea would be an understatement..
 
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Yokel

LE
We used to cut the ends off our laces, fluff the ends up, then push a pin through which we’d stolen from the Home Ec room, then fire the homemade darts from our biro tubes. Hannah the class fat chick’s arse got butchered every time we threw her pencil case on the floor

You liked making a fat girl bend over so you had a good view of her arse, and you had an insatiable urge to put something in her? Are you related to @Scaley Albereto by any chance?
 
You liked making a fat girl bend over so you had a good view of her arse, and you had an insatiable urge to put something in her? Are you related to @Scaley Albereto by any chance?
Clearly yes. Apparently something the size of a pin with a little bit of fluff round the base.

Thread title refers.
 

Joker62

ADC
Book Reviewer
It started off when I was a kid and carried on until I left school at 16. A group of us on the estate used to hang around together and one of our number had found that there were a load of empty houses around the local area. These houses were the massive 3 storey Victorian type and many were in the process of being renovated into HMOs. Mainly, they had been gutted inside with all, if any, furniture left behind either thrown into the rear garden or into skips, the walls had all been stripped down to the lath. We found that quite a few of these still had the wiring installed so we made it our mission to nick as much as we could carry, burn it off and sell the copper to scrappies for cash. We made it into one house, stripped as much as we could and decided that as it was a nice day, we'd sit in the garden and burn it off (it being a Saturday and no builders around). One of our number decided to investigate the house a bit more thoroughly and found a cellar loaded with home made wine! This proved to be a fatal flaw in the scheme of things as a bunch of teenagers hammered on Aunt Delilah's homemade Parsnip/Elderflower/Raspberry wine and fire do not make for a good pairing. After burning the covering off of all of the wiring, we started flinging some of these bottles on the fire with some stunning results until Woodsy, one of our number and one of 7 kids in the family, went a tad berserk and launched around 6 bottles on te fire in a oner, this caused the fire to flare up and spread over some of the garden (this was in one of the red hot summers in the late 70s), before we knew it, we had a California style bush fire going on, we legged it out of the garden (copper cable in hand obvs) and just made it across the road as Trumpton showed up to deal with this raging inferno (a neighbour had called them after seeing smoke coming from the garden area). Thjere we are, 7 of us sitting on a garden wall watching this going on, pissed out of our gourds on homemade hooch, trying to conceal a fuckton of copper wire behind the wall we were sitting on. Trumpton spent around an hour putting this blaze out. Funnily enough, that same summer, I ended up working on one of these sites and managed to squirrel away enough copper for myself each week as well as keeping the others supplied with info.
 
^ Ghanaian Walt
 
**** me I’d completely forgotten about the happy slap craze.

Those were some brutal times.

I never actually happy slapped someone, but we did do drive by shootings with an air horn.

We’d pull up next to someone and ask them for directions, then once they leaned closer to the car we’d pull out an air horn and give them a blast in the face.

Did some old bloke once and he fell over.

I still feel bad about it now.
The brother's first car had a rear windscreen washer which projected a jet of water straight past the windscreen and around ten feet onto the pavement.
Summer sport: driving past some poor sap, pressing the button, and watching as our victim stood looking bewildered up at the clear sky, hand iut to feel for the rain he'd just felt.
Our best strike was a group of three, dressed as clowns, with a charity bucket. We stopped ahead of them, and they capered happily towards us, confident that we were going to contribute.
All three shared the contents of the reservoir and failed to see the funny side, though they did see our dust...

Edited for bloody predictive text; these clowns capered as per SOP, rather than catered. No sandwiches nor snacks were in evidence.
 
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The brother's first car had a rear windscreen washer which projected a jet of water straight past the windscreen and around ten feet onto the pavement.
Summer sport: driving past some poor sap, pressing the button, and watching as our victim stood looking bewildered up at the clear sky, hand iut to feel for the rain he'd just felt.
Our best strike was a group of three, dressed as clowns, with a charity bucket. We stopped ahead of them, and they catered happily towards us, confident that we were going to contribute.
All three shared the contents of the reservoir and failed to see the funny side, though they did see our dust...

I had a crappy Fiat Uno for about a year when I was 20 after I'd unfortunately blown the engine on my Polo. It had a single powerful windscreen wiper that swept the entire front screen, and you could spray loads of screenwash onto the windscreen before setting the wiper off and it would throw a wave of soapy liquid about 10 foot off the near side of the car which was ideal for getting pedestrians. This was around the same time we were doing the drive by paintballing I posted about yesterday so we were absolute shits for getting people!

Anyway one day we were driving along and saw a woman riding a pushbike up a hill about half a mile in front, my cousin started excitedly saying "load it up, load it up!" so I sprayed all this screenwash on and flicked the wiper on as we drove past, giving her a right good soaking as we pissed ourselves laughing. Unfortunately as we got over the brow of the hill we hit a set of temporary traffic lights for road works that were on red, and as I looked in my rear view mirror I could see her frantically pedalling up behind us. if you've seen that "bus *******" scene on The Inbetweeners you'll know exactly what happened. She was banging on the window telling me to wind it down which I did by a fraction, for her to start shouting "do you think this is ******* funny?!" and having a right go while we sat there looking very sheepish and stoney faced. Lesson learned, if you're going to do stunts like that, make sure you've got a good clear road ahead of you!
 

ches

LE
Good thread this, but my hazy memory seems to recall we've done this before on here. However, i was up to all sorts as a nipper. Mid late 70's/early 80s kid me. Pretty rural location, went to a fully comp, fair few rough uns around. Dad pretty strict & being a senior screw at a big well known nick was rigid with his, 'no being a criminal' lectures & threats.

We could be utter little cnuts though.

Shoplifting sweeties from the local village newsagent. Pretty fuckin stupid considering the taff bloke who owned it was a family friend. Got caught, got twatted by Dad never did it again.

Scrumping for apples in the meadow behind the village garage, another masterminded trick as we used to buy petrol & get the car serviced there & as kids it was on our route home from junior school so not exactly a Sherlock Holmes level of deduction needed to work out the fcukwits in the meadow with jumpers full of apples were the 4 bellends who walked past every day.....wearing pretty much the same clothes.

In sec school as 3rd years (don't ask me what year that is in this yank year 1 year 2 bollocks they use now) when we were about 14 we discovered that one of our loose hangers on we nicknamed Bod after the BBC cartoon, his dad had a bin bag sized stash of grot mags in his garden shed. We took of the slatted side panel at the back end of the shed after getting through the boundary fence (someone Dads wire cutters borrowed & we did a Great Escape impression one night) & we pilfered all his stash over about a weeks worth of evenings. The proceeded to sell the porn to the 1st & 2nd year kids making a fcukin mint which some of us used fir increased sweetie ration as well as Airfix stuff.

We also robbed the catholic church mid week collection plate - ditted that occurrence on here elsewhere but in short, modern church, half glass entrance vestibule with collection plate stored there. Congregation lobs in the cash as they leave, priest leaves it in the vestibule & then goes to clear his kit away post mass stuff, we sneak in on all fours once all the left footers have gone from outside, lift the plate & off we go. Next day bunk off school for a lesson off to the local newsagents/toy shop to stock up on more airfix.

As early teens used to take empty milk bottle off a doorstep, get into the entrance floor of the OAP flats (about 4 or 5 floors high) where there was an open stairwell, set off a cpl of those screaming rockets straight up the stairwell so they hit the roof, loads of smoke filling the place while we stood outside laughing our tits off. Bastards. Poor old buggers must have thought Jerry was back with his Heinkels.

Loads of petty arsonage, half empty metal petrol/oil cans turned into IEDs & creating shrapnel that nearly killed us loads of times.

Once air rifles were part of the allowed equipment in my teenage inventory, one of the more isolated local bungalows that had a lovely set of gnomes all stood in a row on low garden wall were subjected to some superb marksmanship helped by the full height windows behind that provided great silhouette in the early evening. I say superb marksmanship, but needless to say the window got the good news.

Shot my mate in the thigh with a .22 by ricocheting a round off the ice on a pond once. He screamed like a pig & it was piss funny.
 

Mölders 1

Old-Salt
Another one from me.......

Many many years ago (1983 I think it was) when we were living near Münster in the old West Germany, there were some local German Teenagers sitting on the swings in the park near the block of flats where we used to live.

Near the swings was a bench on which l found a small diary which must have belonged to one of them........searching through the pages l found an old 20 D.M. note......(worth about £5 back then) l took that and shot off to the local Spar and spent it on all sorts of Teeth Rotting goodies for myself, (20 Marks went a long way back then).

Nowadays if l had happened to find myself in such a scenario l would walk over to those teenagers and hand it back to them.

I really do cringe with shame when l think of how l used to behave/ the things l used to get up to when l was younger.
 

ches

LE
Some more bad shit I've remembered we got up to.

In early 80s during the long summer hols a local swimming baths used to open up early on a Saturday for a morning fun session. Big inflatables in the pools, junior disco going on, lots of laughs. We'd cycle over as a group with 5 or 6 of us getting seaters (or croggies as we called them)....the lads getting seaters would have to make their own way back the 5 or 6 miles to where we lived/hung out. We'd do this by nicking the best BMX stuff that was at the swimming baths cycle bays. A bolt cutter was the tool of choice & away we'd have it. We got rumbled as the main thieving lot, so the local plod were sniffing around & we lobbed the bikes we'd nicked into the local golf course lake in the reed beds. Wait for a cpl of weeks until the fuss died down, whip em out & strip em down. We'd see the parts & make a fair bit....this was the era of SIlverfox, Mongoose, Daimondback so were very desirable amongst the kids. Had that wee scam going all over summer 81 or 82 i think.

Said golf course was a members only place with many of the fairways & greens close to the large exec style houses. We'd hid in the bushes when they tee'd off on this one tee, dash out nick the balls & off on our bikes & away. Then up to the clubhouse car park selling them while they were still 'warm' if they were decent makes of balls. We got quite expert knowing which makes were popular with the mongs.

Local bloke doing the VHS films out of the back of his van, inc stuff under the seat. He had some decent foreigh hardcore which for a balls full of j1zz teenager was mega. Rented something called 'The Nooner' off him which was top notch for close up cock filled snatch - something we'd never seen before. Watching it one eve with a mate of mine who went 3Para support coy later on & i sneakily knocked one out over the back of his affro (he was half cast lad) while he was eyes glued to the screen. He went fcuking mental screaming at me & chased me all around the room while i was trying to pull my kecks up & pissing myself laughing at the same time. Caught me & battered me black & blue but by fcuk we used to giggle snot bubbles at that one for years afterwards.
 
On a visit to RVH school of dentistry looking at my xray the nurse said were you in the army over here?
I thought ffs here we go anyway she said theres a "bullet" in your jaw. She then showed me the xray a perfect 177 pellet not in the slightest deformed.
Put there 50 odd years ago by my friend John Wayne into sitting bulls cheek( me).the useless GP had just wiped it and put a plaster on it and never checked the pellet was out.
Luckily it never interferred with my boyish good looks. Kids eh?
 

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