“Education, education, education” promised Slippery Tony way back in 1997. Things could only get better?
Almost twenty years later, according to The Sunday Times, Britain ranks below Estonia, Slovenia and Poland at maths and reading. Not only can we not beat them at Eurovision but our kids are thicker.
Education is a hot topic with the election looming so, with this in mind, the Tories dumped Michael Gove the previous Education Secretary largely because he was perceived as a nastier than nasty Tory. Headmistress Morgan is now in charge.
It’s not taken her long to start rattling her sabre and there will be many pictures of her on Staff Room dartboards already – not that I’m suggesting teachers do nothing but play darts you sensitive things.
Morgan’s grand plan is that no kid should leave primary school without being able to read and count – not unreasonable but cue howls of derision from teaching unions – and that failure shall result in mass public floggings of headteachers.
We would have failed on purpose when we were kids if it meant our Head in the village stocks. Witness though Morgan’s performance on Sky News just over a month ago.
When asked by one of her target audience – aged ten – what the cube root of 125 was her reaction was so typical of our political class. Firstly she glared at the kid as if to say “…that’s not in the script you clever little twat!”
As panic descended, she blustered away whilst presumably awaiting an aide to hold the answer up in front of her.
“I think that’s one that I might just have to go away and work out. I think politicians who answer maths questions or spelling questions on air normally come a cropper.”
What a role model and another woeful example of politicians so conditioned to avoiding answering anything “off script” that a primary school kid can make them look stupid.
Closer to home, Bradford has slipped to almost the bottom of the league in the GCSE results. There are many factors here but it’s hard to avoid the obvious feeling that the best schools are located in areas of relative affluence as the tables indicate.
It is akin to sticking Bradford City in the same league as Chelsea and expecting them to compete (I know we beat them once!) week in, week out. League tables as far as educating kids go can only offer a limited view.
However, there are tougher places than Bradford so something is far from right with education in the city.
The tables also suggested an overall drop in national performance and there were howls of protests from downgraded schools protesting how unfair it was that an A*** in Nail Polishing no longer counted in the eyes of OFSTED.
Personally, I would rather cut my tongue out than wake up to face teaching thirty kids with more languages in the classroom than a Eurovision final for a living.
Battered between the stand-off between politicians and unions are normal people trying to do what they love – teach. There will be good and bad teachers as there are in all professions.
Lord knows how we raise standards, especially when our politicians are stupid to begin with.
The Myth About Student Loans
More from The Sunday Times comes news that Buy One Get One Free is alive and well where student loans are concerned.
This was a great wheeze to make it appear that loans instead of grants were a better way of funding 50% of kids having a four year piss-up and keeping off the dole figures.
Believe it or not, all the money won’t actually get repaid! In fact, around half is expected to be written off so you and I can fund people like the two below – who are jolly nice lads by the way in their “development”.
The average student debt is now £43,500 – some piss-up – and a survey last week confirmed that there are record numbers of people now going to university. I may do so too, as I will be rotting away long before I repay £43k assuming my liver held out anyway.
Given the prospects for many young people, the option of a few more years of hot meals, subsidised beer and abundant sex funded by the state must be hard to resist; even if you can’t do much with a degree in nail polishing.
Shock Horror
Apparently 40% of MPs go to private schools who represent – as regular readers here will know – some 7% of kids; and they still don’t know the cube root of 125! No chance of calculating that student debt then.
Still, at least it explains how they keep getting the immigration numbers wrong.
Beauty Therapy
The Big Man was not himself last Sunday night at The Scruffy. Sat almost morose in The Railway Carriage, he confessed he’d actually considered not coming out; the building shook for a couple of seconds, dogs stirred and young Melissa froze on the spot behind the bar.
“I always know that, no matter how bad I’m feeling, if I can squeeze a couple of farts out everything’s still working inside” he confided as he lovingly tongued his first pint of the night, alarm now over, normality restored.
Still, he was looking rougher than usual with a very prominent hair sticking out of the middle of his nose like the horn of a giant rhino.
Apparently, Luckless Linda had spent most of the previous evening trying to pluck him without success as the big man watched Match of the Day offering more howls than usual.
Schooled over the years by several students of the art of beauty therapy, I offered my skills. I pinched the nails of my thumb and forefinger like a pair of pliers and attacked the offending wiry branch.
Pull as I could, it would not move as Big Al wailed like a three year-old. Next week we will be waxing his nose for charity…where else but The Scruffy on a Sunday.
Double Standards?
As cars slid down the icy hill last week from where we may soon have another seventy houses, news from the bunker of City Hall supporting plans to convert a redundant office building into flats.
The Great One buffed his favourite earring and proclaimed to the waiting masses from his balcony: “…we have always said we wanted more people living in our city centre…What we are keen on is that any residential development creates a stable community, rather than a transient one.”
Fair enough in utilising a redundant office building in this manner and hopefully reducing the need to concrete more green fields but, as ever, Dopey Dave is in cuckoo land.
These will be starter homes, this ain’t Knightsbridge and much of Bradford’s population aspires to be transient.
One in the Eye for George
Private Eye this week has a cheeky extract from Bradford’s T&A. Under the headline “Protests over prophet picture” was the following picture.
How unfair on George I thought so all complaints please to Editor, T&A, Bradford.
The man himself was on Question Time this week alongside the woeful Morgan and her “oppo” from Labour, Head Boy Tristram Hunt, a poor man’s Slippery Tony.
It was predictably lame stuff with Morgan reciting mantra, Hunt offering Labour denial and two makeweight guests who nobody had ever heard of. But then there was George and had they had rotten fruit, he would have taken a pounding.
The crowd bayed as presenter David Dimbleby looked ashen faced and security guards could be seen lurking in the wings.
But before you pity poor George take a look at pages 120-122 on the following – who needs a piffling MP’s salary?
If you have a quiet moment this is information that will drive you mad as to what many of our slimey MPs get paid for whilst still seeking a 10% pay rise.
As George lamented Bradford’s education standards it was impossible not to wonder if he might have had more value as a constituency MP had he not spent less time in Beirut and London and a bit more in Bradford – which is what he’s paid for after all.
Still, I am sure he has been outstanding value for the constituents of Bradford West.
Our Survey Says
Newspapers should always seek to inform so here is an intriguing extract from last weekend’s £2.50 donation to Mr Murdoch’s empire.
Writer Tim Rayment crunched some numbers with sweet timing ahead of the film release of Fifty Shades Of Grey as to the sexual activity of us Brits.
There are lots of numbers here so if you do read the article you may well fall asleep and be good for nothing if your lady is on her way back from the multiplex, giddy and ready to search for the whip and linseed oil.
However, his conclusion is that Brits aged 16-44 are having sex 2.8 times a month. Sadly, there are no figures for those over 50 so I have no idea whether I am a sex-pest or a raging disappointment.
It’s tough being old.
Hammer Time!
I have made a life changing decision, aged 51 & 3/4; I have bought my first drill. As yet I have not had the courage to unwrap this and it sits in my dining room awaiting exposure.
In the weeks to come I shall be writing about this exciting new relationship and am currently taking bets as to the number of fingers I have come the start of the cricket season.
Have a great weekend.
Gasman says
Donning your alto ego suit, “BLUNDER BOY” and wailing “DIY”, no job to small, oh shit I have just drilled through the water pipe. Hello is that bodger and screw me plumbers, its me again, yes thats the one, new drill, yes, how did you guess. Umph thats what gas calls me too.