My mate, Ken, can be… I’m sorry, there’s no other way of putting it, a liability. On a whim he will suddenly disappear and not return unless accompanied by the police, an irate shopkeeper or some woman belting him around the head with her shoe. I’ve often wondered where Christian Louboutin got the idea for his red soled shoes from, well now I know, it was from some woman staining her shoe with Ken’s blood. Which is why, frankly, I’m worried.Continue reading THE CAMERA CAVALIER
During my years working in education I heard more than my fair share of pathetic excuses for students being late or not turning up for lectures. Like the girl who texted in one morning half an hour after the session started to say “sorry I’m late, but I’m waiting for the dog to have a shit in the garden”. Or another who, only half-dressed and sweating like she’d just run the London marathon (either that or she’d been having shenanigans with her boyfriend for breakfast), burst into the room one day just before lunch and blurted breathlessly, “Sorry I’m late – I thought I was in already”.
LET THERE BE MUSIC
After years of being asked “which was the worst group you ever taught?” Well, here goes.
As we were walking towards reception to meet the External Vilifier, sorry, Verifier, the examiner sent into the college by the awarding body to verify students’ marks near the end of the year, the boss looked at me with ashen face. “What are you going to say to him?” she asked, clearly not wanting to hear the answer in the mistaken belief that what she didn’t know about she couldn’t be blamed for.