Thursday, 29 November 2012


Last year a long serving and famously technophobic memebr of staff retired.
This sketch was performed by my class as a gentle tribute to those fondly remembered 'skills'.

Mrs. T:                        Now Mrs. P, now that you are in charge you must have a mobile phone.
Mr. R:                          Yes! You never know when there might be an emergency.
Mrs. P:                         Don’t be so silly! What kind of emergency might there be?
Miss D:                        Help! Emergency! A class trip is stuck in the Blackwall Tunnel and they are going to be three hours late.
Mrs. P:                        I see what you mean. What would you recommend Mr. R?
Mr. R:                          Well I’ve got a Blackberry on Orange.
Mrs. P:                        Am I going to a phone shop or to the greengrocer’s shop?
Mrs. T:                         You could get something by Apple!
Mrs. P:                        Don’t you start! Now where to start. There are some many different phone shops. Let’s try this one.
Phones 4 U:                Hello madam and welcome to Phones 4U? (Does actions)
Mrs. P:                        What on earth is wrong with you? Are you having a convulsion or are you making those rude hand signals? I don’t think I want to buy a phone from you young man.
Phones 4 U:               Suit yourself.
Mrs. P:                        This looks better.
C Warehouse:            Can I help you madam? Welcome to the Carphone Warehouse.
Mrs. P:                        Carphone? Do I have to stay in the car to use the phone? Isn’t that illegal?
C Warehouse:            No madam, only if you are driving. You can use your mobile phone anywhere these days.
Mrs. P:                        Anywhere? Is the wire long enough?
C Warehouse:            No no madam. All mobile phones are wireless these days?
Mrs. P:                        You seem to be confused. I would like a mobile phone, not a radio young man. Never mind I will try elsewhere.
Orange:                       Hello madam and welcome to the Orange shop.
Mrs. P:                        Now I’ve said this already, I don’t want any fruit, I am here for a mobile phone.
Orange:                       Can I recommend the i-phone?
Mrs. P:                        I think you mean my phone, not i-phone. You young people have such shocking grammar.
Orange:                       No madam! It has all the features you might need. Music too.
Mrs. P:                        Music? Can I play my gramophone records on it?
Orange:                       Gram-o-phone? Rec-ords? No, never heard of them. You can send a text.
Mrs. P:                        Text. What is that?
Orange:                       You type in a message and send it to someone?
Mrs. P:                        Isn’t it quicker to write to them?
Orange:                       No this goes in seconds, and it even has a spell check to correct your  spellings?
Mrs. P:                        I hope you are not suggesting I can’t spell young man. That would be most rude. Let me try somewhere else.
3 store:                        Welcome to the 3 store madam.
Mrs. P:                        Now I’ve said this already, I don’t to buy a number; I am here for a mobile phone.
3 store:                        Well this one has all the latest features. Bluetooth.
Mrs. P:                        Bluetooth! You need to brush twice a day.
3 store:                        Video and camera.
Mrs. P:                        On this tiny thing. Well I never?
3 store:                        Games.
Mrs. P:                        No I don’t have my PE kit today.
3 store:                        Internet.
Mrs. P:                        Now I remember when computers were so large they filled an entire room and were run on gas.
3 store:                       Clock and alarm.
Mrs. P:                        I do have a watch.
3 store:                        Twitter.
Mrs. P:                        Oh dear that young man seems to be making bird noises. He is not very helpful at all. What am I going to do?
Market trader:             Mobile phones get your mobile phones ‘ere. Cheapest by far.
Mrs. P:                        You are my last hope. I want a mobile phone. No games, no internet, no radio, no text, no fruit, no blue teeth, no music, and certainly no twits. I just want to be able to speak on it.
Market trader:             Just give me a minute madam; I have the perfect thing around the back. (Disappears- returns). Here we are madam, the answer to all your problems. (Gets out baked bean tins on string)
Mrs. P:                        Perfect. Hello, hello, can you hear me?

Monday, 12 November 2012

T’ Four Yorkshire Teachers Sketch

My fellow teachers will appreciate the sentiments in this piece. Hopefully my other followers will too.

I wrote this a few weeks ago and sent it to the BBC for consideration on the 'Newsjack' programme on Radio 4 Extra. They didn't use it. I suspect they might have been busy with something else.

I expect to hear the staffrooms of the UK awash with dodgy Northern accents.

This piece already has a 100% approval rating in Yorkshire. Thank you Natalie, that is much appreciated.


Mr Hutton:                   End of t’ school day! There is something magical about seeing all those little kiddies with smiles on their faces, rushing out to their mams and dads isn’t there Mr Boycott.
Mr Boycott:                 Aye Mr Hutton. That and t’ looks of abject horror on t’ parents faces when they see all the reading, and times tables, and words in French, parlez-vous Francais, that they have to learn by the end of t’ week.
Mr Hutton:                   I asked mine to learn ‘clairvoyant’.
Mr Boycott:                 They didn’t see that one coming.
Mr Hutton:                   I’m just making a brew. Would you like one?
Mr Boycott:                 Aye Mr Hutton. Best drink of t’ day! Very gracious of you! I said very gracious of you.
Mrs Close:                   And if you’re doing a pot, don’t forget me and Miss Trueman.
Mr Hutton:                   Will do Mrs Close, will do!
Mr Boycott:                 You’re looking glum lass! What’s bothering ye?
Miss Trueman:            It’s this article in t’ Education News. If I want a pay rise I’m going to have to work extra hours.
Mrs Close:                   Fair play lass! You don’t get owt for nowt in this game.
Miss Trueman:            I know that Mrs Close, but I’m already working 21 hours a day and paying t’ Head teacher for t’ privilege.
Mr Hutton:                   I was reading that we are only going to get more cash if t’ results improve.
Mrs Close:                   Not a problem Mr Hutton. I haven’t got any more of those level 3s in my class this year!
Mr Boycott:                 What have ye done with them? Locked them in t’ cupboards like t’ last time?
Mrs Close:                   No! I’ve moved them?
Miss Trueman:            Moved them! What on earth do you mean?
Mrs Close:                   Not actually physically moved them per se! My youngest son Richard the third (pause) of my children is a genius on t ‘interweb. He hacked int’ t’ database of t’ local authority and gave them all a new post code. They’ve all had to leave, and all get bussed of to Manchester!
Mr Hutton:                   Best place for them I say! I said best place for them.
Mr Boycott:                 But your class is full Mrs Close.
Mrs Close:                   Aye Mr Boycott it is. Of level 5 children. Our Richard hacked t’ details of t’ posh school up t’ road. All those kids from t’ private estate at top of hill have got to come here now.
Mrs Trueman:             You mean with t’ dads who speak like William Hague and t’ mums who sound like Dame Judi Dench.
Mrs Close:                   That’s them pet. All in my class now. Boosting standards and meeting targets. My pay rise is in t’ bag lass.
Mr Hutton:                   You’re a canny one Mrs Close! I said you’re a canny one! Wouldn’t you agree Mr Boycott?
Mr Boycott:                 Aye you’re right there Mr Hutton. Is that why we haven’t been turned into an academy yet?
Miss Trueman:            Has teaching always been like this Mr Hutton?
Mr Hutton:                   No lass! I remember when we didn’t have to set a target for t’ number of times a child used the –oo- sound in a book.
Mr Boycott:                 That’s nothing! I recall when there wasn’t a National Curriculum and we could teach whatever we wanted. I remember teaching nothing but the works of The Brontes and Alan Bennett for a whole year.
Mrs Close:                   In them days I would keep a field trip on t’ moors for two weeks without a worry for risk assessments or Health and Safety.
Mr Hutton:                   In a tent!
Mrs Close:                   Aye!
Mr Hutton:                   You were lucky! I once re-enacted t’ Battle of Marston Moor on the playground in a force 9 gale, in full battle dress and with replica weaponry.
Mr Boycott:                 Me too. Battle of Wakefield! Wooden replicas?
Mr Hutton:                   Aye!
Mr Boycott:                 Luxury! We had original axe heads! And a pot of glue to stick t’kids ears back on!
Mrs Close:                   Right! I remember when I could get in here at 9 o’clock just as t’ kids were arriving, have a fag in t’ staffroom, meet t’ inspectors for a pie, a pint and a game of darts, not fear for your job, give t’ kids a clip round t’ ear for being cheeky, just give a big tick for your marking, and go home at the same time as your class.
Mr Hutton:                   Aye! Them were the days!
Mr Boycott:                 And you try and tell the young teachers of today that ..... they won't believe you.