Stumped for Something to Say

Tags

Christingle, cow shot, Devil's Number, dibbly dobbly, dinks, Educating Essex, glovemanship, Harley-Davidson, innings, mankad, Morality play, Nightwatchman, Ofstead Inspection, pantomime dame, psychobabble, red cherry, Sahara, snickometer, Speech Day, St Birinus, sticky wicket, stodger, stonewaller, tautology, Test Match, the crease, the Yips, World Cup, Zen, Zoota Flipper

Augustus Snodbury was trying to compose his Acting Head’s Report

for Speech Day.  He was endeavouring, in vain, to find a string of lexical

chains to give rhetorical cohesion to his oration.

When I first came to the crease, I felt a bit of a Nightwatchman, but I

determined that I would never be a mankad who left before the bowler

released the red cherry.

But would everyone latch onto his cricketing references?  They were

probably anticipating him making allusions to standing on the shoulders

of previous giants, acknowledging colleagues who would be off to

pastures new and so on.  Nevertheless, he decided to be true to his own

field of interest and continued to unearth parables from the sphere of the

Test Match.

When I was invited to assume Captaincy, I was hoping that I wouldn’t

be on to a sticky wicket.  Speaking as a ferret, I feel that I have played a

cameo of an innings and, if I have been a bit of a stodger, at least no one

could accuse me of having been a stonewaller.

Hmmm, maybe too much damning of himself with faint praise…

We- ah, the first person plural always lends a bit of authority!-have never

been a school which encourages cow shots.  We have dealt firmly with pie

chuckers. (Here he found his thoughts straying to Boothroyd-Smythe)

We have survived sledging, marilliers, dibbly dobblies, dinks and

haven’t got off our duck yet.

I may hear the death rattle and realise that I am bowled, but I- eh,

we haven’t reached the Devil’s Number yet and refuse to offer tea towel

explanations of policy to those who are little better than Zoota flippers,

or who have the Yips.  Trundlers need to be faced down and what we

need in this day and age- a cliche or two could be allowed to slip in- is

all-rounders and future generations who do not expect a featherbed.

He was beginning to enjoy himself.

We can offer our incoming Batsman a belter of a pitch.  He is, we know,

no hack and has a proven glovemanship in other series, so we wish him

a good knock.

We are happy to demote to match referee, so long as we are able to

uphold the spirit of the game.  We gladly bequeath him the snickometer

of a 2015 Ofstead Inspection.  May power hit his sweet spot every time.

Oh!  He’d better mention his predecessor.

The educational de-toxification of our previous Head Teacher has already

commenced.  Even now, he is indulging in a catharsis of his delayed mid-life

crisis and is kicking up a sandstorm with his Harley-Davidson, somewhere in

the Sahara, a trip which his wife understands has little to do with Zen.

He is clearly in touch with the Zeitgeist as other Heads have recently

been in the news for absconding- granted on unpaid leave- to follow

their dreams, or delusions regarding national success in the World Cup.

But here we award trophies to more achievable victories gained by our

future global citizens- attaboy, Snod!-to young people of distinction. 

Now he  was sounding like that Educating Essex chap.

Oh, maybe the whole thing was too dense.  He’d better start again.

Every school is unique and St Birinus is unique in its own way.

Useless!  Complete tautology.

In the family community which is St Birinus, we try to support each other

with tolerance and humility…

He could hear inner heckling and felt as though he was a character in a

Medieval Morality play, or a pantomime dame subjected to shouts of Oh

no, we don’t!   He heard the piping voice of John Boothroyd-Smythe shouting,

It’s behind you!, presumably referring to his career.

Okay, this was enough for tonight.

Mr Poskett’s marvellous Christingle concert illustrated the benefits of PTA

involvement and co-operation with staff, and pupils from our-hah! sister

establishment, as well as funding from our beloved stakeholders.

Oh, what was the use?  He couldn’t sound enthused.  He would just

have to purloin some cribbed sycophantic drivel and motivational psycho-

babble from the internet and hope for the best.  No one would be listening,

anyway.

He had drawn stumps and so he could only hope that he’d be remembered

as the tail that briefly wagged the dog.  The best bit would be when the twelfth

man- that Milford-Haven twit brought the drinks to the pavilion.

 

 

Please Mrs Butler 2

Tags

Allan Ahlberg, Educating Essex, hoodie, Isolation, Mrs Butler, Please, Stephen Drew teacher

‘Do you remember that poem that used to be in all the children’s anthologies?

I asked Carrie.  ‘Please Mrs Butler’ by Allan Ahlberg?’

It was grey, wet and a typical half term.  She had managed to sneak away for

a coffee to preserve her sanity.

Oh, yeah, she said, giving me a puzzled look.  Why do you ask?  It used to

annoy me as the kids used to recite it whenever their teachers set poetry

memorisation for prep.  They liked doing the whining voice.

Oh, it’s just that I remembered that the Deputy Head from the programme

‘Educating Essex’ is Stephen Drew.  So, I couldn’t help writing an updated

version.  He is a media personality now.

Oh, I remember.  There was a Derek Drew in the original, wasn’t there?

Pass it over, she said, taking out her varifocals.

Please Mrs Butler 2

Oi, Mrs Butler,

teacher Mr Drew

keeps picking on me, Miss.

What should I do?

 

Check into Isolation.

Leave those fags here with me.

Go and have your nose powdered.

You’re going to be on tv.

 

You, Mrs Butler!

That p* Mr Drew

took my hoodie from me, Miss,

which he has no right to do.

 

Remove your baseball cap, love.

Hide your mobile phone.

Sneer at all the cameras.

You’re going to be well known.

 

Hey, Mrs Butler!

F* Mr Drew

is now a celebrity.

Why aren’t you?

 

Some of us have to teach, dude.

Micro-manage (not!)

Why don’t you open your textbook?

Knowledge can be quite hot.

 

No one pays me attention.

No one gives me much dough.

I always skip Detention.

I see no quid pro quo.

 

Just want to be on the telly-

to be a household name.

Learning’s for the pathetic.

Studying’s a mug’s game.

 

Please, Mrs Butler.

why did you have to start?

you wouldn’t give me an A*,

so I’ve stabbed you in the heart.

 

Yes, now I’m in Isolation.

I’m monitored in my cell.

Reality TV’s here-

so, didn’t I do well?

 

 

Muzzard Magic

Tags

Alex Salmond, Andy Murray, Angela Tilby, Bacon, Church of the Holy Rude, Dunblane Cathedral, Educating Essex, Flushing Meadows, galaxyzoo, James Bond, Macbeth, Montaigne, Rowan Williams, Sean Connery, Shakespeare, Sir Alex Ferguson, Stephen Drew, Stirling, US Open, Zen

So, a new star in the firmament then?  Let’s look at galaxyzoo.org.  We may be dazzled by the reflected effulgence from a great big rock on Kim Sear’s left hand, or it might not be too many light years before we get its blue shift.  I mean the girl has sat through so many cosmic matches and had to put up with a boyfriend who watches Wedding Crashes rather than wedding planner videos.  She hangs out with the near eponymous Too good to hurry mint.  Muzzard’s mum lit up like Venus when squeezed by Sean Connery, so there could be feeling somewhere out there in the dark matter of their tennis universe.

Or is there?  Andy did express some emotion at misplacing his sponsored watch after the game, but even though this triumph was one giant leap for Murraykind, he limited himself to a fairly Zen-like self-appraisal about being happy on the inside, if not exhibiting it on the outside.  If ever there was a time for a burst of: If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands, then this was it.  Sir Alex nearly choked on his chewing gum, for Goodness sake.   At least he didn’t hug anyone.

Philosophy was topical, with Canon Angela Tilby on Thought for the Day recounting the Zen reaction of a falsely accused monk, who only reacted by reiterating, Is that so?   This was a reaction also much favoured by Stephen Drew, Deputy Headmaster, who failed to respond prematurely to teenage angst in Passmores School, as shown on the programme Educating Essex.   Clearly it is a successful modus operandi.

Rowan Williams appeared to be a Zen master, as well as a bardic Druid, when he neither excused nor justified himself over his past record, but merely made the low key comment : I don’t think I cracked it.

However, understatement is different from dissimulation, which is pretence and projection of a false self.  So, when an interviewer asked Andy to comment on his 2.30 am victory-..if you could dissimulate that..  my ears could not fail to detect this crass lexical choice with all of its Macbeth, or even Malcolm connotations:

False face must hide what the false heart doth know

or the advice not to be

as a book in where man may read strange matters.

Andy roared like a rutting stag when he was taking control, so I do not see that he is guilty of equivocation.  It is more a feature of Lendl to restrain himself.  Maybe the latter has been making a study of Machiavelli, Bacon or Montaigne, in order to advise his young prince.  Malcolm was the character who adopted the strategy of dissimulation to engineer his claim to the Scottish throne.  Now there’s an over-reaching step to set oneself after the Flushing Meadows novelty has worn off.

So, maybe the Church of the Holy Rude at Stirling, a coronation site, could prepare itself for a nuptial celebration, or an elevation to the Salmond hierarchy for the boy who done us proud {sic}

Dunblane butchers are already promoting their Grand Slam sausages and burgers, so the wedding breakfast could be served with a bit of black pudding and some deep fried Mars Bars, to continue our astral theme, and if the Hydro could be considered too windy a venue for an outdoor barbecue, at least it would deter Culicoides impunctatus, Meanbh-chuileag, or the biting midgie.  The males are benign; it is the female who are the deadlier of the species.  However, a little touch of OO7 appeared to cure the Queen’s Evil and Judy seemed a lot less scrofulous after that wee cuddle.  She got the real Bond, whereas Her Majesty only got Daniel Craig.

Aye, Sean, I’d put my kilt in the cleaners pdq and check the pleats for moth damage because I think you’ll be giving it an airing pretty soon.  Let’s hope you are not double booked for October 5^th. (Global Bond Day)

Mind you, Dunblane Cathedral would make a pretty backdrop for such a ceremony, with its plaques to three poisoned sisters who aspired too high for the nobles of the day- a fitting reminder to Kim to keep her nose clean?

If she can bear to keep playing Scrabble without winning and can avoid words like dissimulate, she is probably on to a high word score.

Lo he comes with clouds descending is a brilliant rallying hymn for a conquering hero, so they might choose that as an antiphon or introit.  Mummy could give him away (not really) and the floral wreathed Border terriers could be attendants.

See yez all at Scone!

© Candia Dixon Stuart and Candiacomesclean.wordpress.com, 2012