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Teachers are LIARS!!!


Tonight Britney  (47) brought home from school (she’s in the 2nd year at Juniors)  the dreaded:

“Your Child has shown interest in the violin”

letter.

What ACTUALLY happened was the teacher brained a kid with his  own violin after he messed up  “Greensleeves”   for the umpteenth time and Britney  said:

“What the FUCK?”

..her name was down on the list for THAT letter in less time than the Headmaster takes to expose himself  at  Assembly.

All I get from that school is utter, utter, UTTER shite.

Britney  WOULD not know a violin if I were to set fire to one and tie it to a passing pensioner’s mobility scooter
(true actually… I did that very thing only last week)

Purely by chance they are about to run an after-school class at “competitive prices”.
And the good luck continues:

” We have a selection of Violins and other Instruments which can be secured  for a ‘modest’ down payment”.

Exploitative bastards.

When I  lock her  in the Fritzel’s basement it’s to get a bit of peace and quiet – I don’t want to hear that screeching racket.

 

 

Clearly her teachers aren’t prepared to settle for having already stitched us up once with the School Recorder Club.

The amount of  dribble that came out the end of that particular instrument of torture was worse than Grandad on his endless trips to the bog. I got sick of being asked to try and guess what the random assortment of shrill sounds was supposed to be. I do not know of any tune that sounds like the dire noises that thing generates. Everything sounds the same – like a drunken asthmatic being beaten up and trying to summon help with a broken whistle.

Anyway Brits lost interest after I cleared the blocked toilet with it…only time the thing was of any use.

You can NOT trust teachers.

Teachers are THE most complete bare-faced liars:

“Your child shows potential…”
(as a serial psycho killer)

“Interacts well with the other children…”
(Pays up IMMEDIATELY when bullied for cash by bigger kids)

“There’s been a big improvement on last term”
She’s dropped the Assault charges.

Social Services accused me of being a bad parent which is unfair. … how  was I to know the £20 notes I gave them for fags were forgeries? I ALWAYS  share my heroin with the kids and NEVER once have I let them drive when they’ve had too much to drink.
Social Services have such unrealistic expectations. They’ll be wanting me to return to the UK and feed them next.

Broken Britain my arse-crack-pipe

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About they still let me vote

David Martin John, was created in an American lab by a scientist who - in a fit of pique following his exclusion from the team working on the Roswell (‘Alien Discovery’) project - grafted a baboon’s arse onto a butterfly. As a result David is extremely fond of bananas (he will happily stare at them for hours) but suffers from an irrational fear of getting trapped in net curtains. Abandoned by the elders of the tribe…David struggled in the wild but, at first glance, APPEARS to have integrated – to an admittedly limited degree – into society. Raised by badgers just outside an English Village that was twinned with Chernobyl…he soon withdrew into his own troubled mind only to be sexually abused by his imaginary friend. The one time he actually did manage to ‘make’ friends was when he went to Legoland. Twenty years may have passed, but he still remains bitter about what he considers the unreasonable rejection by Publishers of his first manuscript: “Noddy and the Daleks”. Determined to be at least a minor celebrity he suffered another setback when he underwent a lavish and expensive boob job before he had read BOTH questions on the “Page 3 Girl” Application Form. He counts Professor Brian Cox among his friends – which is ludicrous as he’s never met him - but this is apparently quite common with David’s Mental condition. David was invalided out of the Police Force in 1998 after – perhaps unwisely – asking a GBH suspect to show him:“…EXACTLY what happened…” When he lay stricken and in a coma in hospital (the greengrocers weren’t remotely interested) his parents rushed to his bedside. They visited daily – despite not knowing whether David could even hear – trying to encourage him with tape recordings of other people dying. Devastated to find that there was no “Pause” button on his Life Support machine they still came… just clinging to the hope they might finally hear those longed-for precious little words; “…time of death…” David survived their repeated attempts at poisoning and smothering, recovering enough to be able to testify in Court. His parents got off on a technicality – the Judge, in his summing up, said he would have done the same thing. Although there was overwhelming forensic evidence to the contrary, he also accepted that they COULD have been “simply plumping up the pillows” as claimed. In 2007 David took another turn for the worse when he took the Government’s dismissal of his idea for a “massive almost-globe-like structure to celebrate the new Millenia” very badly. 2009 also proved a dificult year when, during his resitting of a routine urine test, Doctors found no brain activity and remove several vital organs. Now banned for life by Tescos, since 2010, following an incident in the vegetable section that the family refuse to discuss, he now lives pretty much as a recluse – confined to the Ward – filling his days watching taped repeats of his relatives embarassing themselves on “You’ve Been Framed” … David is living proof (albeit in a “permanent vegatative state”) that medical treatment of the criminally insane has a long way to go……

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