School of Comedy
Mr. Mills
Alright, simmer down, the name's Mr Mills and yes, I will be applying for the Teacher of the Year Award. 'Why?' I hear you ask at the back. And if I hear you ask again, you'll get a thwack round the ear'ole and a wet towel flick to the goolies.
I'm a no nonsense teacher, see. Back to basics. Hands on. None of your namby pamby, mollycoddling 'lets talk about our feelings' bulldust. What kids respect is authority and a strong hand, preferably applied several times to an upturned cheek.
Don't get me wrong. I am a man of extreme tolerance. All children are equal in my eyes. No matter how thick, ugly, povvy, spotty, sweaty, greasy or gay the little buggers are, they are all liable to the same ritual, verbal humiliation if they ever cross me. It’s the least I can do, until corporal punishment is re-introduced.
And do you know, the kids love me for it. I see it in their eyes, welling with tears as I pass them in the corridor. Every now and then they'll even leave little gifts of eggs and excrement in my pigeonhole. I haven't even mentioned that I drive a Mondeo, own several pencils and can throw a chair 25 feet. 30 feet if the chair has wheels and there's a child in it. So you see, I'm a shoo-in for this Teacher of the Year Award.
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