Categories
McConnell Log

Ode to John Swinney

Lang streak o’ pish

And awfy skinny

Wee roond glasses

That eejit John Swinney;

Nae brains, nae guts

A total ninny

Hair like a Nazi

That eejit John Swinney;

I’ve seen less grease

On ma mammy’s pinney

Oh thank God for

That eejit John Swinney.

Categories
Judge Mental

School’s A Scandal

The Accused

Messrs. Peter Peacock and Charles Clarke

The Charge

That they wantonly and negligently stand by and do nothing while our Education system lurches from crisis to crisis, leading to a dumbing-down of academic and social standards.

Case for the Prosecution

I have some questions. What has happened to our Education system? Why have examinations become so easy? Why are so many people being admitted to our universities to partake in courses that are unspeakably crass and ill-considered? Why do I increasingly see our educational institutions brimful of thick, badly-behaved little toads brandishing a clutch of unutterably useless, paper qualifications? Standard Grade Foundation Level? Have you ever witnessed this? The foundation level paper for French asks candidates to

– write their name (that’s worth 30%)

– choose the capital city of France from a list including Paris, New York and London (that’s worth 50%)

– and to ask what you would normally do with a baguette (that’s obviously worth the remaining 20%, a fact I mention for the benefit of anyone reading this who is practising for their Higher Mathematics examination and in need of a bit of arithmetical revision)

I know what I would do with it. It would involve the action of insertion, the nether parts of both Charles Clarke and Peter Peacock and swift movement. Clearly the baguette would need to be halved prior to insertion to meet its twin target, roasting notwithstanding, a feat best achieved by slicing the aforementioned baguette into two equal pieces; a fact I mention for the benefit of anyone reading this who is practising for their Higher Mathematics examination and in need of a bit of problem-solving revision with a geometrical slant.

A foundation or general pass standard grade says only one word to me. And that word is ‘loser’. But, I hear you opine, does it not say to you ‘This kid has worked d____d hard and while he may not be the sharpest tool in the shed at least he shows willingness and some kind of dedication so why not give him a chance, your honour?’

No. It does not.

If you are unfortunate enough to have received one of these pieces of paper as reward for your academic efforts and are reading this then I have two things to say to you. Firstly, it is not going to get you a job or prove your worth or persuade anyone that you will ever amount to anything worthwhile. Secondly, do you understand a single word of what I am saying? No. I didn’t think so. I make no apologies for saying it again because it most certainly bears repetition. Loser.

I have completely had this to the back teeth. Life is not easy. A lot of it is about achievement and reaching milestones. It’s about competition. It’s about proving your abilities to yourself and to other people who then make some key decisions about what is going to happen to you. It may be an employer giving you your first job or a bank manager giving you a loan to start a small business. If you are not good enough then you fail. Simple as that.

So why do we so readily shirk from failing these delinquents at school? Failure is as failure does. There would seem to me to be little point in deluding these perpetually under-achieving little ticks by falsely raising their hopes and engendering in their midst any illusion of adequacy by awarding them a meaningless, low-value qualification. Why, there are even awards for turning up! Excuse me? But is it not a legal requirement for a child to attend school? Yet, we feel a need to reward them with a certificate for doing what is required of them by the law! Why not go the whole hog and present them with a certificate for tying their own shoelaces, keeping themselves clean or remembering to breathe out after they have breathed in?

Let us now do what needs to be done. Consign them to the dustbin of academic natural selection at the first opportunity and stop them wasting the time of their fellow students and those poor saps who have taken it upon themselves to try and teach them something. Teach them something! Don’t make me laugh! The majority of our schools are no longer the seat of learning or groves of academe that we may remember from our youth. No more the chewed pencil and the furrowed brow! Our schools have become a haven for vicious little thugs who are given free rein to wield their particular brand of malice against staff and pupils alike, safe in the knowledge that any attempt to properly counter this behaviour will invoke castigation, under the banner of social inclusion, from shrewish, withered, badly-dressed, lentil-eating women who wouldn’t know the touch of a man from a washing machine and would have less chance of bearing a child of their own than Sister Wendy Beckett. At Lent.

Let them leave school unqualified and enter the world of the criminal, the layabout or the tradesperson. Better still, remove them now to a place where they can follow their own muse. An establishment like Guantanamo Bay, perhaps, far removed from the strictures of the Social Worker, the Curriculum Enhancement Officer or the Child Psychologist, has some obvious attractions. Let us allow the more academically-able to flourish and remove from a hard-pressed professional teaching staff the spectre of bullying, aggression and malevolence that invariably accompanies the low-life academic loser throughout his school ‘career’.

It’s not like the country is short of qualified graduates. It is bursting to the gunwhales with 21-year old media studies graduates all trying to get a job with the BBC on the strength of a 3000-word essay on “Alfie Moon: urban zeitgeist”. Yet you try and get hold of a reliable plumber.

There is little point in trying to run a country with only scientists. History shows that the humble hunchback also has his place.

The prosecution rests.

Case for the Defence

Record numbers of students are now applying for university places.

Verdict

Guilty as charged.

Sentence

I hereby decree that Mr Peter Peacock and Mr Charles Clarke should be taken from this court to a place of execution, otherwise known as an inner-city secondary school, and there be subjected to ritual abuse, verbal and physical assault, disrespect, bullying and teachers’ whining until they see some sense. I would also warn them that I would not expect to see them up before me a second time.

Categories
Plumb Line

David Kelly RIP

Well blow me down with a gift voucher from B&Q.

I was in this house in Argyll Avenue, up to my elbow in this woman’s waste pipe, when I heard the news on the radio. Turns out Tony Blair did nothing wrong in the whole David Kelly Iraq thingy after all. He’s cleaner than a Belfast sink on the 12th of July. Blimey.

At least that’s what Lord Betty Hutton says and what with him being a proper lord and all, who are we to disagree? Here was me thinking that Tony was in as much doo-doo as I was but no. Lord Betty says he’s innocent and that’s good enough for me.

Seems old Doc Kelly didn’t know his arsenal from his elbow and he topped himself after blabbing his big mouth off to that blubberguts from the BBC. The four-eyed fat boy reporter then made up all these nonsensicals about sexing up the dossiers just to get old Tony Blameless into bother. Makes me bleedin blood boil so it does.

The leftie bean eaters at the Beeb are no better than the scumbuckets that work for The Sun or the Mirror. They both make everything up but at least the tabloids have the decency to fill their pages with pictures of Jordan getting her bazookas out in the jungle. You can just about forgive a paper full of old horse droppings if it also has photographs that help the working man pass his lunch hour.

Lord Betty says that Tony didn’t order some beneathling to beef up the weapons report — that was just a figleaf of Andrew Gilliguts’ imagination. Saddam had all these weapons alright and in 45 minutes he could have found them in the holes he buried them in 10 years ago, dug them up, brushed out the sand, found some German scientists to put them back together, do a few tests so they didn’t blow up in his moustache then point them at the west and destroy anyone within a 20 miles radius. Them’s the truth whatever way you cooks your apples.

Betty also made it perfectly bleedin clear that there was no way Blair murdered old Doc Kelly. No way. He didn’t actually rule out Blair ordering fat boy Prescott to take Kelly down the woods, dope him up and give his wrist a slice. But then he didn’t actually say he did either. Ipso quod escape routus.

You see the bottom line — and if anyone knows the importance of the bottom line it’s a plumber — is that old Saddam the Sadist needed sorting out. Tony knew it, George Dubya knew it, even Mrs McGillivray in Ronald Place knew it and she’s as mad as a cheese roll. The plonkers at the BBC knew it too but oh no, they had to play up to the vegetarians and the Save The Whale crowd. “Oooh, show us proof.” Proof? I’d give them proof till they couldn’t sit on a cushion for a month.

That blubbery traitor Gilligan should be taken out into the streets and stuffed with meat pies till he bursts on national telly. That’s the only language these people understand. You see Gilliguts is the sort of bloke who has low self-esteem on account of him being fat and four-eyed so he makes stuff up to make himself important and get on the telly. I saw it on Sky once when I was waiting for a late night artistic movie to come on. It’s called Baron Munchhorses Symphony or something. Lying towrag if you ask me.

I’ve always said if you go throwing shit around then you better make sure the wind doesn’t change or your face will stick like that. And if it’s true in plumbing then it’s true in life.

Now I’m not saying that Blair wouldn’t go making stuff up — I’m a plumber but I’m not that bleedin dolly. But the thing is, if he did then he would have been making it up for a good cause, right? And anyways he’s too flippin clever to get caught out by a fatty like Gilligan. If Blair was a bit ecumenical with the truth then Gilligan wasn’t going to see it. Blimey he can’t even see his own feet.

No, we can all sleep easy in our beds tonight knowing that British justice is as safe as it ever was. As long as we have men like Lord Betty looking out for the better interests of the empire then we know things are all right.

Plumb on

Peter Plumb.

Categories
Plumb Line

George W Bush

Just yesterday I was fitting a new s-bend for a woman in Richmond Place. I say ‘new’ it was actually a bit second hand and had spent the previous ten years of its existence in a flat round the corner. I say ‘woman’ but I’m not completely bleedin sure it wasn’t her husband in an Irish jig and her best Dorothy Perkins frock. I was a bit suspectful from the off but the toilet seat was up and the room smelled like a Turkish whore had spent the previous night drinking Guinness. People these days.

Anyways, this customer — either Mrs Morgan or her light-loafered man — was telling me how it was a flippin disgrace that President George W was coming to have tea with the Queen. On account of him being a murdering, warmongering, cheating, lying son of a murdering, warmongering etc etc.

Now I wasn’t having any of that. The customer may always be right — that’s complete bollocks obviously — but I wasn’t going to sit there making a five minute job last just over an hour while someone slagged off the man who saved us from Saddam Hussein and his 45 minute boil-in-the-bag nuclear weapons.

All this bollocks about President George being a war mad daftie who doesn’t know his nuclear arsenal from his elbow is a bit unfair. Okay so he’s not Brain of Britain, well he couldn’t be could he, but he isn’t a complete idiot. Not really.

Okay so he’s not so hot on geography or history and he has a hard time speaking English proper but then it’s not his first language. He’s American, you know. But he’s not a complete buffoon. I bet he’d do really well on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? Well, The Price is Right at the very least.

And the loopy lefties like Mr or Mrs Morgan can moan all they want about President George blowing the bejeezus out of Baghdad but where would they be today if he hadn’t? Well, okay they’d be in the same place and nothing would be different except a lot more people would be alive but that’s not the point. Sometimes democracy means you have to kill a lot of innocent people whether there is a reason or not.

So I told all this to Mrs Morgan — and probably to Mr Morgan as well — and she/he ranted on about how George had made up all that stuff about Saddam and his weapons. Well, so what? If he’d told the truth then obviously no-one would have wanted to go to war with the towel heads so he had to make it up. That’s what politics is all about. I’m afraid Mrs Morgan was just too stupid a man to understand all that though.

She kept banging on about democracy as if that was something available to the likes of him. But there’s always a price to be paid for democracy and in Mrs Morgan’s case it was a hundred quid surcharge for being a prat. That’s not quite how I phrased it on the invoice of course, cracked soldering or something.

You see what the likes of Mr Morgan doesn’t understand is that America is the greatest democracy in the world. And the 47 per cent of Americans who voted for President George will testify to that. So although Mr Morgan may say that size doesn’t matter (Mrs Morgan probably has a different view) it surely does. As my old gaffer used to say, never use a small mallet when a flippin great sledgehammer will do. It looks good, scares the crap out of anyone watching and you can charge five times the price for a clean-up operation. And if it’s true in plumbing then it’s true in life.

Plumb on President George.

Plumb on.