"Harry Faker"
My Dad recently retired from teaching at a private Prep. School (ages 6-13 for those unfamiliar with the system) He was the head of the French department, and had an un-blemished record of getting his students through scholarships and the like.

The school itself is in a sleepy little village in Shropshire and is attended by the children of people who have *big* money. People who - on sports day - will turn up in their helicopter to pick the kids up. Names like DeFerranti, DeLiupis and so on were the norm, as were ferraris and - in the case of one Nigerian Prince (I kid you not) - a fleet or Rollers and body-guards.

Dad had been there for Eons it seemed, and had watched PC, Health and Safety and the Children's Act take all the fun from teaching. Handing out exercise books was always a speciality: he could throw them at people's desks from accross the room with pin-point accuracy, and only rarely did he miss the desk. If the books had been left open overnight on the freshly marked page, more often than not they'd land and then open: in the latter years he dreaded the effect of little Tarquin or Flora getting a paper-cut: the fun had to stop.

It had been the small things like this made him enjoy teaching: it wasn't the language or the success, but more the "being looked up to" by the kids. This - as any modern teacher will tell you - is slowly draining away.

******************************

Christmas at that school had a Tradition: the Christmas Meal. This was the one time when dishing out the food was done by the teachers and ALL the clearing up was left to the staff. The kids loved it, the Teachers hated it, yet they managed to fight through the meal with steely determination. My Dad however had a little Christmas Tradition of his own: Each question he was asked during this meal would be answered with a bare-faced lie: this is where it really all started.

"Thir, thir, How many turkieth doth it take to feed the whole thkool thir?"

"Well, Did you see the JCB in the school yard Two days ago?"

*Chorus of "Yeth Thir"*

"That was knocking a hole in the kitchen wall to bring in the Industrial Ovens from Domindo Tool-Hire"

"Reaaallly Thir? What For?"

"Well, You've heard about GM foods and Geneticly Modified animals yes?"

*Another chorus of "yeth"*

"Well, They've recently managed to make turkies with 100 wings and 80 legs. So, Naturally the School only needs Three of these Turkies to feed us all: They have one oven each because they're so huge and it takes 2 days to cook them."

"Thir, Why has it only got 80 legs?"

"Ahh.. Well the legs need to move to allow it to swim so they bred them to have twenty less legs than wings and the... Yes Joshua?"

"But, Thir, turkieth don't thwim"

"No, not usually, but these ones were crossed with octopi to get the genes needed to get them to grow more than one leg. It crossed over to the wing side of things too, and that's the way you get so many bits.. but they have be supported in liquid to support their weight. Besides, it's only the top head that needs to be able to breath"

"Top Head thar?"

"Yes Terrance, the Top head. The others are around the edges, I think they have 6 in total, but the others drink the liquid that they float in: Again, inherrited from the octopi genes. They managed to adapt the liquid to hold all the nutrients a growing "turktopus" needs, and even managed to make the ink-glands produce soy sauce!!"

"REALLY THIR???"

"Absoloutely. And you know what else?...."

He'd carry on until someone at the table found one point to be a little too tough to digest, and then he'd set about proving it, before switching subject.

**********************

His favourite on-the-spot story was the Shepherd's Pie one: though not a Christmas one. This was levelled at one of the older classes with slightly more world knowledge....

"Saar, Saar, Why is shepherd's pie called "Shepherd's Pie" Sar?"

"Ahh. Well Now. Have you noticed how you've only started getting it recently, and you used to get cottage pie?"

"Yes Sar"

"Well, Shepherd's pie is relatively new. It all started when the Russians messed up and Chernobyl and caused radioactive fallout to poison all the sheep in the area... you all know about Chernobyl don't you?"

*Chorus of agreement and general brief discussion*

"Weeeel, All the sheep died from radiation poisoning, and suddenly there were no need for all the shepherds. Russia was in need of food - they couldn't eat the sheep- and so all the Shepherds were rounded up, Shot and fed to the people as minced meat"

*General noises of disgust as plates are pushed away*

"No no no, That's not what you're eating. What you're eating is made by Findus. Findus and McCains have huge factory ships and since the late 80's have been using them in the Fjords of Norway during the lulls in fishing seasons. Acid Rain has caused massive de-forestation in Norway, and this has killed all the pine trees that Norway is famed for"

*Brief discussion about acid rain*

"Now in Norway there's a special type of sheep ... Yes Laurence, That is the kind of sheep that gives us polyester wool ... and these sheep live under the trees and feed on the moss and lichen that grows on the ground. The Shepherds would sit happily and watch the sheep day and night, and due to the large amount of wolves in Norway, there were nearly one shepherd to only five sheep. All of this has come to an end: since the acid rain killed all the trees, the lichen has become covered with old pine needles, and baked in the direct sunlight. In a matter of weeks the sheep were dead, and suddenly there were literally thousands of unemployed shepherds roaming wild on the shores of the Norwegian Fjords."

"What did they Do to survive thir?"

"Well, Norwegians are able to swim very well, and they quickly learned to eat fish that they'd caught, but the fish stocks were being terribly depleted: This is when the Norwegian government made a deal with Findus and McCains. For the last four years, The factory ships have been moored on one side of a Fjord, and the workers from the ships have release packs of German Shepherd Dogs on the other. These dogs - as the name suggests - are especially bred .... yes Jennifer, I know your Corgis are specially bred too.... are especially bred to herd shepherds. The dogs herd the enemployed Shepherds onto the factory ships and - when full - the ships set sail for England".

"But Thar, What happens to the Shepherds??"

"They're usually shot - very painless - and then processed, cooked and frozen, and offloaded when the ship Docks in England. Som instead of the nasty Russian version, this is quality Norwegian Shepherd's pie.... Now... Who wants more?"

Pathological? No.
Genius? I'd like to think so: I still look up to him for his ability to seamlessly blend fact into fiction.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 30 Nov 2007, 9:05, 8 replies)

Top bloke!
Psst . . . which school is that?
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 10:10, closed)

Not sure I can say...
but if you guess right I'll happily comfirm.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 30 Nov 2007, 11:08, closed)

I'm not sure enough to guess!
I only ask because I used to work at a school in telford and i've visited most of the schools in the area.
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 11:34, closed)

Now we know
where you get it from!
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 11:52, closed)

but but but but....
You're insinuating that I'm not entirely truthful Chickenlady... *little forlorn look* I aam!! *Stomps foot* :,(
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 30 Nov 2007, 11:55, closed)

Erm.....
I believe you're as truthful as I am.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 30 Nov 2007, 11:57, closed)

ahh.. ok then.
I agree.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 30 Nov 2007, 12:26, closed)

Made me grin like a fool
while having a shit day - thanks

*click*
( snee held his breath since, Mon 3 Dec 2007, 16:33, closed)