My fanfic ain’t about none o’ dat. Or at least once I wrote it, it won’t be. Not dat it is now, either.

It’s about dis git wot wants ta get really smart and he comes up with dis proppa klever plan ta get smart. But den, if he’s dat klever ta begin with, does he really need to get smart?

It’s called Grot and Supergrot. I’ll write it one day. Den yoo’ll see!

Right, but that’s public schools, not schools in general. Those are places for rich pricks to send their children so they end up becoming Prime Minister someday and any other miserable sods unlucky enough to also be inducted.

The vast majority of us go to “state” or “comprehensive” schools, which mean the same thing. There was certainly plenty of brutality handed down by the teachers in the old days and I imagine a fair amount of bullying but they don’t have the kind of storied history of Eton and Rugby.

Who doesn’t love dying during childhood?

Now, let’s not get into who fucks what, Mr Kennedy.

I would but they lost my… custom. By being evil.

Eh, we’re not all like dat, ya cheeky git!

Ah, they’d just pronounce it wrong. Buh-DAY, they’d say. No, it’s a nice idea but I don’t think it’ll flush.

No prize. Only jeopardy.

And to play us out, here’s Sting Jesus with Streams of Gold.

Do you think the amount of cheese eaten in Italy might have increased a bit over the last 800 years?

Skulls for the skull bed!

History’s Not Made By Great Men

No, Basil’s in his room with Manuel. At least, I hope he is.

It’s always been a class war. Sometimes we do some of the fighting but the rich are always fighting.