Tuesday, 4 December 2012

Miserable Les!

I love Les Miserables. Who doesn't with the truly inspirational and moving songs. It is a great book too, surprisingly fresh and funny for a text 150 years old. Great for a Year 6 Leavers' Assembly I thought, especially as I had some great singers.

This is the script for that performance. The title is taken from Terry Pratchett. The humour will make Victor Hugo turn in his grave. 

Bring Him Home, Castle on a Cloud and especially I Dreamed a Dream brought many a tear to the eye. 

Teachers, please feel free to use this in your schools. 

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Miserable Les

SCENE 1: PRISON

A CHAIN GANG enters and sings


LOOK DOWN
LOOK DOWN
OH, PRISON LIFE IS DEAD!
WE DON'T
HAVE TOOLS
WE HAVE TO MIME INSTEAD.
LOOK DOWN
AND GROAN
MAKE JERKY MOVEMENTS. RHYME.
WHY CAN'T
I TELL
WHAT TOOLS THESE ARE I MIME?


Enter JARVIS.


JARVIS                   Now bring me prisoner number 2468Ten.


LES                        It is Jarvis, who has pursued me relentlessly for years!


JARVIS                   Explain yourself, 2468Ten!


LES                                        I am Les and for the entirety of this play and to fit with the parody I will be miserable. I was imprisoned because I stole bread to feed my sister's baby, both of whom we will never mention in this play ever again!  So you see, I am the sympathetic character in this play and was imprisoned unjustly!


JARVIS                                   And you were imprisoned for five years for that!  And then fourteen more because you tried to run!


LES                        Oh how painful it is to live at this time of revolutions in France!


JARVIS                   Prisoner 2468Ten, you are free.


Jarvis hands a piece of paper to Les


LES                        What is this?


JARVIS                   It's a piece of paper.

LES                        Very good. And…

JARVIS                                  You show it to people who want to hire you, and this way they know you were a prisoner. Hah-hah-hah!

CHAIN GANG 1        And what about us?

JARVIS                   That’s your lot! It’s all dysentery and non-speaking parts for the rest of the play. (exits)


SCENE 2: GINOLA’S YARD

(Les tries to find a job)

LES                        Monsieur Ginola! Any chance of a job. I’ll do anything!

GINOLA                  Yes, I'll hire you.


LES                        Excellent.  I'll just give you this piece of paper here--


GINOLA                  You have a piece of paper?  I can't very well hire you!


LES                        Oh, ex-criminals in France have it tough!


GINOLA                   You know, you could consider just not giving me the paper.


LES                        I cannot do that; it would betray the same strong moral values that led me to illegally feed my sister and her dead child.  And I have to uphold my strong moral values.

MME GINOLA          So moral you forgot you weren’t going to mention that again!

LES                        Oh yes! Silly me!

MME GINOLA          Why don’t you try the Bishop? He’s a mug for any sob story!



SCENE 3: MONASTERY.

LES                        So that’s my story. Just wandering by and all my Euros lost in a banking crisis.

BISHOP                  What do you think Mrs Cantona?

MRS CANTONA       (in dodgy French accent) When ze seagulls follow ze trawler (pause) it's because zey think sardines will be thrown into the sea

LES                        Pardon me, I don’t speak fluent gibberish!

BISHOP                  What the good lady means is that you are not to be trusted.

LES                        MOI! C’est incroyable!

MRS CANTONA       And that is one of the few French phrases you will hear this morning.

BISHOP                  I’ve thought this through! Despite your outwardly rough appearance and the overwhelming smell of dung. I have decided to offer you lodgings for the night.

MRS CANTONA       The man has lost his marbles!

BISHOP                  So here's the deal.  I'm going to let you stay here in the monastery.  Here's a delicious rack of lamb, and you get to sleep in the ROOM OF PRECIOUS SILVER AND OTHER EXTRAVAGANT
                               EXAMPLES OF THE CHURCH'S WEALTH.  Bon-nuit!

(Bishop and Mrs Cantona exit)


LES                                        Must uphold strong moral values, must uphold strong moral values, must—Hey! Who am I kidding?                                 (grabbing all of the silver)

(Bishop and Mrs Cantona enter)


MRS CANTONA       POLICE!

(Policeman enters)

POLICEMAN            Vous sont arrêtés mon fils!

LES                        Eh ?

POLICEMAN            You’re nicked my son !


(Enter a bunch of policemen in bunny slippers and pyjamas)


POLICE CHIEF        Miserable Les, you're under arrest for stealing the church!


LES                        Stealing FROM the Church.


POLICE CHIEF        I ask the questions here.


LES                        I didn't ask a question.


POLICE CHIEF        (yawns) Jean-Claude!  Get me my elaborate police chief hat!

JEAN-CLAUDE        (in a ridiculous French accent) At once my little cheesy potato crisp! (enters with enormous hat)

POLICE CHIEF        Go ahead; tell his reverence your story about how he gave this to you as a "gift".


BISHOP                  But I did give this as a gift... I just forgot to give him these as well. (hands him silver candlesticks)


POLICE CHIEF        What?


BISHOP                  Yes, thank you for apprehending him so I could--


POLICE CHIEF        You said he stole.


BISHOP                  Well surely, can’t you see...?

POLICE CHIEF        Of course I can see, and stop calling me Shirley


POLICEMAN #2       My wife was woken up at three in the morning for this.


POLICEMAN #3       My poor consumptive French children can't get back to their slumber!


POLICEMAN #2       They may die before you return.


POLICEMAN #3       As long as nobody dies on stage from this hammy acting.


BISHOP                  AHEM!! But can’t you see, I was teaching him a lesson.


POLICE CHIEF        (whilst beating self up) STUPID ME! THIS MAN OF GOD.MAKING ME FEEL MORALLY GUILTY AND WAKING ME UP IN THE MORNING!


(Les escapes.)


LES                                       This meaningful incident has made me realize the error of my ways.  I'm going to start again, and to prove it, I'm going to RIP UP THE PAPER that for NO REASON I decided to show to every potential employer!

 PEASANT              Ripping up the paper is deeply symbolic somehow

(Les rips up paper over-dramatically)


ZIDANE                   I am Monsieur Zidane and I just happen to be conveniently walking by. Hey there, you may smell of dung but don't look like someone who has ever had any of that paper that former prisoners have.  Want to help me invent gold from base metal?

LES                        Why certainly Sir! Your smart apparel leads me to consider this opportune!

ZIDANE                   Help me count out these nuggets then.  (Counts out of bag) 2-4-6-8-10

LES                        You know my number!

ZIDANE                   You are a prisoner, surely that means I am the first in this play to die a dramatic yet meaningless death?

LES                        If you insist. And stop calling me Shirley.

ZIDANE                   That’s the second time that has been done….  UUURRRGGGHHH!!!

LES                        I think that this may be a little worse than the loaf of bread, but wait, there is a convenient and hitherto unmentioned abandoned mineshaft that no-one will look in for at least 100 years- I will dispose of the body there!  And now to the FUTURE!!!



SCENE 4: THE FUTURE.


WORKER 1:            But not really the future, just ahead ten years.


POOR PERSON 1    Life is tough!


POOR PERSON 2    Working in a factory in France in the nineteenth century is hard

(Sings AT THE END OF THE DAY)

FANTINE                 I'm ready for my yearly wage.


FOREMAN              Here's your wage, minus your "not letting me kiss you" penalty.


FANTINE                 No, please give me the money!  I need it to feed my daughter who I sent away because I hate children.


FOREMAN              What?  You have a kid?  You're fired!


FANTINE                 Oh well! No other jobs in the universe.  Better take up begging. Or teaching!


MLLE NASTY          I was once an OFSTED inspector! Now I am reduced to this!


FANTINE                 Oh, what a cautionary tale!
                               (sings I DREAMED A DREAM)


(Suddenly and slowly a cart runs over Henri)


HENRI                     Help!  I got run over by this very slow moving cart!


JARVIS                   That is bad acting and highly improbable!


LES:                       I have completely abandoned my former life of lying and thieving, and somehow become the mayor

MME HENRI            Help Mr Mayor, save my husband. From being slowly crushed.


LES                        I'll save you!


JARVIS                                  Wow, I don't know anybody who can convince nobody that they're struggling to lift a cardboard cart like that...EXCEPT FOR MISERABLE LES! But we're about to execute a Les that we just caught.


LES                        You can't execute LES, because LES... IS ME! (opens shirt, reveals that it says 2468Ten)
                               IT'S MY PRISONER TATTOO!


JARVIS                   Is that finger paint?!?


HENRI                     Quick Mr Mayor RUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!


JARVIS                   I will get you one day Les!



SCENE 5: HOSPITAL.


FANTINE                 (dying) Oh Cosette, come here and let your crazy blind mother take care of you.


LES                        She's not here.  You're delusional because of the nasty disease!


FANTINE                 TB or not TB that is the question.


LES                        We never really specify.  It seems to be the same disease that kills all the important characters this far into the play


FANTINE                 Who are you?


LES                        I'm the man who looked on while my morally corrupt Foreman fired you, and then did nothing when you caught that disease that will cause you to die in about thirty seconds.


FANTINE                 Oh! (pause) Will you raise my child? (dies)


(Enter Jarvis)


JARVIS                   Les at last!

LES                                       Now I liked Fantine, but I don’t like you. But which is better. There’s only one way to find out.  FIGHT!


JARVIS                   Bring it on!

(They fight in a very hammy way without actually making contact)



SCENE 6: OUTSIDE THE INN IN ANOTHER TOWN

MARCEL:                So we are here in another equally poor part of France.

THIERRY: Yes we are poor, but are we happy?

ETIENNE:                No we are not, but for the purposes of this play we will appear to be the jolly paupers with enough to buy us a few drinks at the inn.

MARCEL:                Wait a minute. Where’s Harry?

THIERRY:                Come on Harry!

ETIENNE: There he is! Hurry up Harry! Come on! We’re going down the pub!



SCENE 7: HOUSE OF THERNARDIER


(Cosette sings CASTLE ON A CLOUD)


MME. T                   Cosette, I'm so glad we've enslaved you to keep you down in the cellar.


ETIENNE: Hahahaha!  Don’t you just love Monsieur and Madame Tena-Lady?


THERNARDIER        Here you go sir.  I've created this dinner for you which, though you're not aware of it, includes ingredients like cat spit, and curious short curly hair!


HARRY:                  What a lovable landlord you are Monsieur Tena-Lady

THERNARDIER:       It’s TEN-ARE-DEE-AY, not Tena-Lady.


MME T:                   I wish I wasn't fat and that I had married a man who wasn’t so foul.


MARCEL:                I just want to take the Tena-Ladies home with me!

MME T:                   It’s TEN-ARE-DEE-AY, not Tena-Lady

(Sing MASTER OF THE HOUSE)


LES:                       I have a million sous. Worth more than the euro.  Give me Cosette.


THERNARDIERS:    Sure stranger, do whatever you want.


LES:                       Cosette, now you're my daughter.


COSETTE:               Yay!  Scruffy stranger, I love you immediately!



SCENE 8: PARIS


JARVIS:                  And suddenly we have jumped ten years into the future and I am still chasing Les over that loaf of bread.

GAVROCHE:           `Ello govnah!  I'm a plucky li'il street urchin, so b'sure to fall `n luv wit m' now audience b'fuh I get blewn t'bits!  Blimey!

JARVIS:                  Are you going to keep up that ridiculous wotchagorblimey Mary Poppins accent?

GAVROCHE:           Sorry darling I was still in role from Oliver!


EPONINE:               (to audience )I love Marius!


MARIUS:                 (to audience) I know but I never respond and pretend I don't notice. (Cosette walks by) I love that girl that just walked by!


COSETTE:               (to audience) I love Marius, and am in torment about abandoning my elderly father for him!


LES:                       (to audience) I'm elderly now!   But I still can lift my own weight!


ENJOLRAS:            (to audience) I'm Enjolras!  Try pronouncing my name! 

VICTOR:                  Enjoy rollers?

HUGO:                    Engineer rails?

ENJOLRAS:            SEE!  VICTOR AND HUGO YOU CAN'T DO IT! Join with me to fight the enemy who we never see for a cause I don’t fully understand.

VICTOR:                  Hooray! Allez les bleus! La plume de ma tante et dans le jardin! Le souris est dans le chat!

HUGO:                    Better that than see a classic story ripped to shreds!


MARIUS:                 Wait, now I'm tormented about whether to fight in a rebellion that I haven't quite yet figured out, or to chase after that girl I just saw that suddenly I'm in love with!


COSETTE:               My name is Cosette!


MARIUS:                 Oh it's so embarrassing; I don't even know your name!


COSETTE:               Cosette!


MARIUS:                 Will I EVER learn her name?


COSETTE:               Buffoon.


ENJOLRAS:            Get serious, Marius, its wartime, and General Lamarque is dead.


MARIUS:                 Lamwhat?


ENJOLRAS:                            You haven't heard of him and we won't bother explaining, but put faith in the fact that it's vitally important to the rest of the plot and the reason I will die...Come sing a wartime song with us now.

(Sing CAN YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING)


ENJOLRAS:            Another to celebrate our inevitable demise. (singing) RED!


GANG:                    THE COLOR OF SOME BLOOD!


ENJOLRAS             BLACK!


GANG:                    THE COLOR OF NOT WHITE!


ENJOLRAS:            RED!


GANG:                    THE COLOR OF... SOME... TOMATOES?


ENJOLRAS:            (despondent) Black.


GANG:                    THE COLOR OF... UMM...


STUDENT #1:          Charcoal?


STUDENT #2:          Graphite from a pencil?


STUDENT #3:          Liquorice?


ENJOLRAS:            Never mind for tomorrow we will die awful, gruesome, and ultimately pointless deaths!


(Everyone comes out on stage and yells at the top of their lungs).


LES:                       TOMORROW IS IMPENDING!


ENJOLRAS:            TOMORROW HAS MEANINGFUL MEANING!


JARVIS:                  ONE MORE DAY TILL REVOLUTION, I WILL NIP IT IN THE BUD, I WILL JOIN THESE LITTLE SCHOOLBOYS.THEY WILL WET THEMSELVES!



EPONINE:               THERE ONCE WAS A GUY I LIKED A LOT EXCEPT HE DIDN'T LIKE ME BACK AND I CRIED
I WISH THAT HE HAD LIKED ME AND THAT IS WHY YOU SYMPATHIZEWITH ME, EPONINE, WHEN I’M SHOT.


SCENE 10: BACK AT THE BARRICADE THE NEXT DAY.


JARVIS:                  What's up guys!  I'm so totally all about your decision to overthrow the government. Can I join your awesome club?


VICTOR:                  Well we DO need somebody to find out their attacks and the like.


ENJOLRAS:            (pointing at Jarvis) Yeah, we can trust him, he's old!


GAVROCHE:           You can't trust him... He's INSPECTOR JARVIS in disguise!


ENJOLRAS:            Who?


GAVROCHE:           The BAD GUY! Haven’t you been paying attention?


ENJOLRAS:            Oh.


HUGO:                    We can't trust old men...So who's going to execute him?


(Les enters.)


ENJOLRAS:            (pointing at Les) We can trust HIM!  He's OLD!


(Suddenly Eponine runs over the barricade and is shot!)


EPONINE:               Marius!  I died so I could give you a letter from Cosette!


MARIUS:                 You poor pathetic waif. (It suddenly starts to rain) Now I’ve got to protect you from the rain.


EPONINE                Forget the rain I’m DYING.


MARIUS                  Oh, poor Eponine— too late, she’s dead. And the rain has stopped. OK, so who wants a drink?
                               (flings Eponine's body to the ground)


ENJOLRAS:            Yes, as your leader-ish person, I command EVERYBODY to go out the night before a big battle.


GAVROCHE:           I can’t because I'm underage.


ENJOLRAS:            Are you old enough to loot dead bodies for ammo?


GAVROCHE:           Yes.


ENJOLRAS:            Climb!


(Gavroche climbs across the barricade but, just as Eponine was, is shot. Enter his many little friends)


JEAN:                     Gavroche!  Gav--(is shot)


PAUL:                     Oh no, how could--(is shot)


GEORGES:             My poor friends are dying!--(is shot)

RINGO:                   Voici le sang des martyrs--(is shot)


(Lots of little children appear onstage.  A torrid bloodbath ensues.  It is terrifying. Everybody keeps fighting.)


LES:                       I'm going to let you go, Jarvis.


JARVIS:                  I have a gun.  I've spent my entire life chasing you


LES:                       Just go away.

JARVIS:                  Here I am running away across the barricades.  Of course, I am not shot because I am not one of the children.


ENJOLRAS:            Comrades, avenge the deaths of les petits.

(Gun battle in which all except Les and Marius are shot)


LES:                                       (looking at an almost-dead Marius) This is the boy who is in love with my fake daughter. I ought to save him with my super old man strength! Down to the sewers, which are healthier in 1832 than up here, and smell better.



SCENE 11: PARIS'S FAMOUS SEWERS

LES:                       I am really tired now so will put down the body of Marius, and fall asleep for plot reasons.


THERNARDIER:       (entering, taking a gold tooth from a dead body) It is not explained how I am here. I like to steal gold from corpses! And let’s have the ring from this young fellow.


RAT:                       Hey... Weren't you the funny character?


THERNARDIER:       I used to be.  It got used up after the loss of Cosette and wasting all those sous which were worth less than a pile of horse manure.

RAT:                       But you used to serve croton de cheval on your menu, that’s horse manure!

THERNARDIER:       People would come from miles around to taste my croton de cheval. Finest in the district.

RAT:                       You're still not funny anymore Monsieur Tena-Lady

THERNARDIER:       It’s TEN-ARE-DEE-AY, not Tena-Lady. Oops he’s not dead; better scarper before I’m caught.

LES:                                      Better get going again but I can’t sing with this fat lump on my back so I will sing with him on the ground

(sings BRING HIM HOME)


LES:                       The smell is getting worse now; it must be the fresh Parisian air outside. Let’s just squeeze through here and …


JARVIS:                  Les we meet again; another coincidence in another part of France over 30 years.

LES:                       Oh just go away! I’ve let you go once.

JARVIS:                  Les who I casually pursued around France for a few years has spared my life.  Definitely a
                               very good reason for jumping off this bridge. (jumps)
                               AAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!
                               (He spins around a little bit while standing, then dives into the floor)


LES:                       I always thought he was in Seine.

JARVIS:                  Not at all predictable! BLUB! BLUB! BLUB!



SCENE 12: A HOUSE IN PARIS.


MARIUS:                 This play is too short but let's take a moment to remember some people I never bothered to get to know in the first place.
(singing)
THERE ARE CHAIRS AND THERE ARE TABLES
THEY ARE MADE OF LOTS OF WOOD
NOW MY FRIENDS ARE NOT ALIVE NOW
THAT IS BAD, NO IT'S NOT GOOD.




SCENE 13: WEDDING.


MARIUS:                 Cosette and I are getting married with all of our closest friends here.


COSETTE:               Yes, somehow I have friends even though I just moved there and all of Marius's friends died.


(enter the Thernardiers in a pair of hideous outfits)


MME. T:                  We haven't changed at all as characters.

THERNARDIER:       I haven't even aged half of what Les has in the same time!


MME. T:                  Sh!  Distract the dead-alive friends while I steal this expensive silverware and hide it.

COSETTE:               It’s the Thernardiers!

THERNARDIER:       Its TENA-LADY not THERNARDIER.

MME T:                   (slaps husband- silv4e plate falls out) OOPS! Au revoir.




SCENE 14: ANOTHER HOUSE IN PARIS.

LES:                       I am dying, so the play must be ending right?  They can't very well go on forever.
                               (lights a pair of candles) I will just light these candles and wait to die. (pause- 10 seconds)
                               It may take a while.


FANTINE:                (a ghost) Hello Les.


LES:                       Hello, crazy blind lady!


FANTINE:                It was the flu.


EPONINE:               (also a ghost) Hello Les

LES:                       Wait, who are you?


EPONINE:               Eponine.


LES:                       Who?


EPONINE:               Right, we never met.  How awkward that God chose me to guide you to the next world.


FANTINE:                We're here to take you off to Heaven.


LES:                       About time too. My children who abandoned me better show up soon to hear my whole life story all over again.


COSETTE:               Father, I haven't seen you in years but we suddenly figured out where you were a few minutes before you die!


MARIUS:                 Your father wanted me to pretend I didn't know where he was.


COSETTE:               But why, Papa?


LES:                       Now, I have a story to tell you about a man who stole a loaf of bread, and in that time, learned a very difficult lesson and that is the whole story in one line. And now I am dying.

MARIUS:                 I forgot about the bread- but why?

LES:                       I’m going.


COSETTE:               Please father, don't die!


LES:                       Still here! No! Hang on! Urgh! (dies)...
                               (gets taken to heaven by Fantine and Eponine)


COSETTE:               Oh father! (cries)


MARIUS:                 That’s ok because suddenly, every dead character will show up to sing the final song. And you and I are the only ones in all of France who didn't die!  How depressing.


(Final song: CAN YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING)

Saturday, 1 December 2012

Did you buy that tree?

The first Christmas Trees have appeared in the front windows of houses in my road today. We leave ours until after our eldest daughter's birthday on 6th December, so there was always a clear break for her between her birthday and Christmas. We always choose our tree as a family.

However a few years ago,  I came home from the weekly shopping trip on Saturday morning with my youngest daughter, then aged four, who excitedly called out 'Daddy! There's a tree!'

Sure enough, wedged in the front porch was the said article; wedged being the operative word as it was a fifteen foot monster! We normally have a six or seven foot specimen. My wife had no idea that it had been delivered. After dismissing the possibility that either of us or my mother-in-law had ordered it, close examination revealed a torn label, with only the first half of our street name on, and the number 13, our neighbours. They however were as much in the dark as we were. Closer examination of the label made us suspect that the 1 was actually a 7, so up the hill we went, tree dragging behind, to number 73, where Mr and Mrs Khan thanked us for our concern but assured us that they didn't mark the festive season. 

All agreed that we had a stroke of luck, but there wasn't even a delivery note to refer to. The tree was here to stay, though if it did the top third would be bent at a right angle and traversing half of the living room ceiling. If we had been able to get it in the door in the first place; the lower branches were over 12 feet across! 

Out came the saw from the little used DIY box, not an area of great expertise, followed by an hour of huffing and puffing, lots of sweat and a sore arm (STOP THAT!! RIGHT NOW!!) to remove three layers of branches and a three foot length of stump. Just narrow enough to fit through the door now, it still touched the ceiling in its stand and I had to carry my youngest up the stepladder for her tradition of putting the star on top. 

Such was the size of the tree that we didn't have enough decorations to cover it, so on Sunday I was dispatched to buy more. My wife looked very sheepish when I got back. Two burly neanderthals had knocked on the door while I was out.

'Did we leave a Christmas tree here yesterday?' 

'No! I don't believe you did! My husband is out buying ours now.' My wife is not a convincing liar. 

This confused them. The sawdust from the previous day's effort still coated the path, several branches and the stump protruded from the green bin. The offending tree, slightly askew and lights ablaze sat proudly in the front window for all to see!

The torn label explained it all. It was meant for number 73, but in an avenue in leafy Blackheath which shared the first half of our road's name, where it would have adorned a double height Victorian hallway. Our six footer would have been totally out of place there. As it was, even after my pruning, the television was still out of view from half the room, and I was still finding needles well into the following Spring. 

Hoping this year that Majestic or Ocado get confused with their deliveries.  

Thursday, 29 November 2012

MRS P BUYS A MOBILE PHONE!

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.

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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.

Wednesday, 24 October 2012

Fifty Word Stories

I blogged about this before. Fifty words for a story is a challenge for adult writers, particularly if the rule is that no words can be repeated.

My writers club after school today were challenged to suggest a character, a setting and an object. They chose 'Charlie', the woods and a sword, all of which had to feature in their work.

This is the piece we came up with together, editing the pronouns and articles so that they didn't repeat.

Fossil Woods stood tall, dark and brooding. Something snuffled through the undergrowth searching more in hope than expectation for hidden treasure. Suddenly a glint caught his eye, then snagged Charlie's paw. Sir Brian would be pleased! He had found, after several years of trying, Excalibur; King Arthur's almighty, powerful sword.

This is the best independent effort from the children.

He staggered sluggishly up California's creepy sidewalk on Devon Avenue. Shimmering brightly in the Sun, a copper Caspian made sword lay in front of the neighbours' house. Mum stopped outside shouting 'Have you packed for the trip?' Charlie hated camping. He raised the weapon, and struck his mother down dead.

They said it was the hardest thing they had ever written. However they could do 300 words with little difficulty!

Have a go yourself!

Saturday, 13 October 2012

The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared

Have you ever had that conversation that begins 'Can you recommend one of those Swedish novels we always see you reading?' or 'I want to get into Nordic Noir that you're always talking about'? No? Me neither actually. Regular readers will have seen my Fifty Shades Parodies, and  will know that I am fighting a solo battle to bring good literature into my staffroom.

Nonetheless I have a great Swedish novel to recommend to those with such inclination. The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and Disappeared, is the first novel by Jonas Jonasson.




What a title! Jonasson came up with the title first and fitted the story around it, an unusual writing approach, but one that produced something quite unique.

There are books that whilst reading and reach the last hundred pages, you think 'thank heavens this is nearly over'. Equally there are books which everyone seems to be reading, on the tube, passed around the 'ballet mums', those that hang  around in the top 50 for months, only to re-emerge some time later when the sequel or the film/television adaptation comes out. 

For this book however I was disappointed to reach the last 100 pages, as I realised that my thorough laugh-out-loud enjoyment was about to end. It is the kind of book that I encounter perhaps once a year, that I have to tell people about and want to share. Last year incidentally it was The Breaking of Eggs by Jim Powell. 

Allan Karlson is One Hundred Years old on the first page of the book, in his room at the old peoples' home, waiting for a party that he has no wish to attend, so he does what is says on the tin, and leaves wearing his carpet slippers. 

What unfolds is a tale of death, gangsters, a hopeless police manhunt, and a cast of unlikely characters who bond through the combination of their personal circumstances and the most fantastical turns of fortune. One man dies twice, once in a freezer in the depths of a Swedish forest, secondly at the hands of an incompetent suicide bomber in Djibouti.  Don't ask: it needs to be read to be believed. Then there is the elephant whom Allan befriends, and which is involved in one death by sitting down and in another in which the victim isn't actually dead, though the mechanics of stopping a truck with a four and a half ton elephant in it should have rendered this a certainty. 

With me so far? Probably not.

Interwoven with this is Allan's past story, and here the fantasy goes into overdrive. The significance of him being one hundred years old means that he has lived through the crucial events of the Twentieth Century. As an explosive expert, he blows up his own house. Twice. This leads to spells in a mental institution, and on his escape to the Spanish Civil War, where he inadvertently saves the life of General Franco. Subsequent events take him to China where he befriends Mao, thence onto an encounter with Churchill, before events conspire to send him to Los Alamos where in serving coffee to Oppenheimer he reveals the secret that enables The Bomb to be built. Getting drunk with Harry Truman, encountering Stalin, seven years in the Gulag only to burn down Vladivostok, escaping via war torn Korea with his new best friend, Einstein's illegitimate younger brother. You couldn't make it up, but Jonasson did and it certainly works.

A work of complete fantasy, but one of the funniest books I have read for a very long time, and one I would certainly recommend. 

It is being filmed too, in Swedish, starring Robert Gustafsson, 'the funniest man in Sweden', but of course you knew that already. 

So if you would like something different in your Christmas book list this year, this is the book for you. Njuta av läsning!

Saturday, 6 October 2012

Fifty Shades of Middle Class

This morning's 'Times' has a feature in the 'Weekend' section entitled 'The new middle-class top 50: How many can you tick?'

Well the answer in my case was four- Jamie Oliver, Chorizo, Fish Fingers, and Dinner parties in the kitchen. On one occasion all four were involved thanks to the presence of small children.   Dinner parties have to be in the kitchen; that's where our dining table is.

This was however a very 'North London' list: anyone who was at the University of Warwick in the 1980s like me will know what I mean by that. This was where I first heard of Camden Market, clothes from charity shops and kumquat and aubergine risotto. As teachers we are in an archetypal middle class occupation, yet my wife and I both come from working class roots. What defines class? Profession, money, aspiration, expectation?

Of course lists like this are tongue-in-cheek and not meant to be followed or taken seriously. Or are they. There were no prawn sandwich munchers on the terraces in the 1980s, yet in the 90s people who never would have dreamt about setting foot in a football stadium did so in their droves, helping to change the face of a game once described as working class ballet.

Sorry to 'The Times' but your list is pretentious waffle. This is my own tongue-in-cheek 50  step guide to being middle-class, SE7 style!

1. Don't follow how to be middle-class guides in the papers! You don't need to be told what to do.
2. My eldest daughter, then aged 8, asking for balsamic vinegar on her chips.
3. My youngest daughter, then 5, knowing to dip bread into olive oil and vinegar on holiday in Spain.
4. Growing my own vegetables in the front garden.
5. Having a herb bed just for our guinea pigs.
6. Growing my own salad on the window ledge. 
7. Making my own chicken stock.
8. Making my own soup- no Covent Garden soups in this house.
9. Watching sub-titled films for genuine enjoyment.
10. Watching Nordic Noir TV not because it's trendy to do so, but because it's actually very good.

11. Not reading books because everyone else is: Fifty Shades? Oh please! 
12. Not reading the books that are seen to be trendy: I hated Life of Pi, Captain Corelli, Wolf Hall, and barely tolerated the Da Vinci Code. 
13. Reading what I genuinely enjoy, and not being told what to read. 
14. Making my own sushi.
15. Making my own tapas. 
16. Choosing not to watch the X-factor- not because it's ironic, but because it is just exploitative. And crap!
17. Having the neighbours round to watch Strictly Come Dancing. 
18. Being in awe of the dancers on SCD- and having two left feet!
19. Asking advice from the chef in restaurants. 
20. Listening to good wine advice in the off-license. 

21. Going on holiday to places we want to go, not because everyone else is. We do remote- Orkney, Donegal, Western Isles. 
22. Realising the Sky+ box is full of programmes from BBC4.
23. Other favourite channels: Sky Arts, Film 4.
24. Realising my wife has more male friends than female friends.
25. Realising I have more female friends than male friends.
26. Taking our children to our gay friends' civil partnership ceremony. Got up the noses of my 'Christian' colleagues.
27. Not blaming bad behaviour on ADHD. It's bad parenting or the children are little sods!
28. Supporting the local football club. Though a lifelong fan of 'The People's Club', thats's Everton for the uninitiated, Charlton Athletic are a superb community club and having seen them in the Championship and League One shows there is decent football outside the Premier League.
29. Growing my own cut flowers.
30. Tweeting Monty Don and showing off that my tomato crop was better than his this year. 

31. Growing my own Christmas Tree. Planted seeds when first married. Might be ready for our Golden Anniversary. Currently a foot tall!!
32. The dishwasher being blocked by an olive pip. Honest!
33. Unwittingly being the most ardent feminist at school.
34. Drinking real ales, not because it's trendy, but because they actually taste very good.
35. Looking at the meat percentage in sausages- the lowest I have found is 9%.
36. Coming up with increasingly more elaborate stories for the unsolicited phone calls 'He will be back later. Who am I? His wife's toyboy lover?' : 'You bastards! How insensitive can you be? You can't speak to my wife, she left me last week!'
37. Pissing off the Jehovah's Witnesses- wife at door, me from kitchen 'Darling! Can you come back here please; I need you to hold the goat still before I slaughter it and daub the children with its blood. 
38. Buying a two euro bottle of Chianti on holiday in Italy on the advice of the locals and finding it was far better than the £12 bottle from M&S we bought when we came back. 
39. Being proud of my Northern roots.
40. Being able to turn on Northern accent because being told off in a Northern accent is actually far more effective than a 'refined' one. Imagine 'bastard' with a flat /a/ rather than an /ar/ sound. 

41. Breeding own guinea pigs! Accidentally! Started with two, ended with 14! Daphne now Dizzee! 
42. Not being one of those people whose voice and opinion you just have to hear wherever you are; and whose voice grates; as if they have been the only person in the world to have had a baby, lost a job, been lied about, been lied to, been let down, been shopping, been on holiday. Bloody shut up! Sorry ranting!!!
43. Being a loyal husband and having a loyal and loving wife. 
44. Being a loyal friend.
45. Being a trusted colleague.
46. Being a good parent. 
47. Not putting up with anyone else's ego or bullshit. 
48. Being me! And not what anyone else wants me to be! 
49. Spending too much time on Twitter!
50. Blogging!

Hooray!! 50/50! I win! Actually I don't! Class doesn't mean social standing, whether you can do wonderful things with courgettes or taramasalata, or how popular you are with friends. It means decency, loyalty, honesty, friendship, not putting yourself before others, having a sense of humour, seeing the best in life and in every opportunity that comes your way. 

Discuss!!