Hello and welcome to a new term!
As you will no doubt have noticed, the former school was closed after the OffPiss report, which put the blame squarely on Nick’s team for any failures over the past five years.
It’s hard for me to put into words how sad I feel about Nick’s departure, so I’m not going to bother. But now is a time for looking forward and I’m very excited by the opportunities presented by our new incarnation.
We are now what is technically known as a “Free-to-do-whatever-we-damn-well-like School”, which means there will be much greater freedom for myself and probably rather less for those who Mrs May puts in detention for not obeying the rules.
Parents will notice one or two staff changes, such as the broad smiles on all the faces of the staff who remain, unencumbered by Nick’s team who have sadly, as I’ve said, had to be fired. Forty-nine of them have gone, but who’s counting? There isn’t room to list them all in the Valete column, but let’s just remember that grumpy Mr Cable will be waltzing off into the sunset, as will Mr Alexander, Mr Hughes and Mr Laws (along with his live-in partner!). There are just too many to mention, so I won’t dwell on the sad exit of poor Mr Kennedy, who will no doubt be drowning his sorrows, bonkers Mr Baker (with his conspiracy theories), mad Mr Hemming with his various wives, mistresses and cats and Mr Davey with his crazy windmill schemes.
As for the rather geeky supply teacher, Mr Miliband, who thought he could run the school better than I can: well, all that debating didn’t do him much good, did it? Hell no! (Thanks, Finktank, your first zinger of the new school term!)
It is sad news about Mr Farage – he’s still with us. Having changed his mind over a pint or 20, the fruitcake stall is still in the grounds. Alongside is a large new stall offering traditional Scottish shortbread. It appears to be run by Ms Sturgeon, although there is a familiar face standing behind the trestle table, who looks a lot like Mr Salmond, roaring at passers-by and trying to pick a fight. Still, let’s just ignore all the amusingly tartan-clad helpers and I’m sure they’ll go away. After all, there are only 56 of them…