Saturday, 22 April 2017

In Brief #4: Brief Cases

In Brief #4: Brief Cases

“Good morning. Pay attention shirkers at the back. From now on, I will be doing what briefings need doing and Blunt will not. Let’s keep briefings, brief. Yak yak yak.”

“On the other hand, I was nonetheless and hitherto similarly in agreement to allow our new Headteacher, Mr Sidney James, to be weekly briefing coordinator and at the same time inseminator of informations given as likewise I will not be individually taking briefing myself or alone.”

“Spit it out, Blunt. Oh, it’s too late, he’s gone and swallowed it, stupid bleeder. Now, let’s get to the recent Ofsted visit, shall we? Cor, blimey.”

“Likewise, Mr Sidney, we don’t use the O word in this school. We always say Mr and Mrs Ofsted.”

“Cor, blimey, do we?”

“Yes, because, likewise, we don’t want any bad luck.”

“Any more bad luck? You’re having a laugh. You’re in special measures and your old Head, she done a runner, didn’t she? Joined the bleeding Tories, ain’t that so? How much more bad luck can you get? Maybe Mr and Mrs Ofsted have only gone and got romantic, off early to bed and had a little baby Ofsted for you all. I bleeding well hope so, cos like them, you’re fucked.”

“With much all due respect, Mr Sidney, I don’t think we can say she ‘done a runner’.”

“All due respect? More like all due neglect. Yak yak yak.”

“No. Mr Sidney. Primarily, as you may or may not have heard in the grapevine, the Headteacher remains protracted in Witney, Oxfordshire for the duration of forever. By which case, I mean to say that, she will not be returning. This is due to her husband failing his vetting procedures. She sends her apologies by way of the forthcoming email I will now intend to read to the staff at the duration of the meeting. She says the following: ‘Please do not put paper towels in the urinal. The urinals may become blocked. It is never a good day with paper towels blocking the urinals.’

Ah. No. that is not what she wrote. She actually writes: ‘My colleagues and friends. Those of you I have come to respect. And others who work there, too. I have to tell you that my husband is detained in Witney, Oxfordshire for the duration of Ofsted and we will not be able to attend. I also have to tell you that, due to his severe agoraphobia, my husband will not be able to return any time in the future. Good luck. I know that somehow you will miss me. I have left my responsibility in the hands of Mr Blunt. He will guide you safely into the outstanding harbour that you shall, I feel sure, build together.’”

“She wrote that cobblers? She’s having a laugh. Yak yak yak.”

“On the other hand, Mr Sidney…”

“Shut up, Blunt. Now listen here, you lot. I’m here on short notice. Now. I’ve heard some ugly rumours that you lot think they got me on the cheap due to the school being a million pounds in debt…who’s that, Blunt?”

“Who did you mean?”

“That bloke at the back, playing with condoms, what looks like a Geography teacher. Patches on his jacket elbows. The knob sitting over there.”

“Ah. Likewise that is Mr Thompson. He’s a Geography teacher.”

“Tell him to shut up. I do not intend to run this school along the lines of ‘Carry on Camping’. If I did, Thompson, you’d be the last I’d want to see running around and falling out of his bra. Yak yak yak.”

“Mr Thompson…at the finality of this briefing, will you kindly see me…”

“Shut up, Blunt. Now I’ve seen the appeal what the SLT have put together, arguing that they was unprepared due to them not seeing the car parked down the lane 24 hours before it was due to visit. Cor, blimey. Is that the best you can do? Course they was at the airport. Course they was. How else were three random blokes from Wolverhampton going to get here? Call that a case? Nut case, more like. Yak yak yak. And who is this Mr Iqbal?”

“He’s, actually and on the other hand on sick leave.”

“Sick leave?”

“Yes. When Mr and Mrs Ofsted visited, SLT thought that, similarly, he would be the ideal person to judge the English Faculty’s ‘dress as a book character’ competition.”

“So, he’s an English teacher?”

“No. He is, moreover, a part of the Religious Studies Faculty.”

“And he judged a competition what asked him to pick out the best giant leg of ham? In front of bleeding Ofsted? Cor, blimey.”

“We were doing ‘To Kill a Mockingbird.”

“Who’s that?”

“That, however, was Mr Finch. He is an English teacher.”

“Shut up, Finch. Shut up Blunt. Giant ham competition? What the bleeding hell was that about? Ham? You should have done sausage, chops and bacon and gone the whole hog. Whole hog. Shut up, it weren’t that funny. Yak yak yak.”

“That was quite funny, Mr Sidney.”

“Shut up, Blunt. Now. Listen up. This school is one million pounds in debt. That requires improving. There’ll be no more giant ham competitions for a start. That’ll save a few quid. I’ve looked at SLT’s appeal about the car and their aim to move from special measures to requires improving. It’s a load of cobblers. I have a better one. How we can save the dosh. What I’ll do is easy. All you teachers what require improving will see me. I’ll be mostly focussing on the ones with the most experience and what cost the most dosh. I’ll offer a bit of bunce for you to clear out. Yak yak yak. Then I’ll get the newly qualified cheap teachers to replace the sodding lot of you. What do you think of that?”

“That’s outstanding, Mr Sidney.”

“Yes, Blunt. I’ll see you first.”

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