1jimmyf

Me and Roger

It seems to me that the school system in the UK (as well as needing a bloody great overhaul so the children actually fulfill their potential rather than standing around behind the bike sheds and smoking cigarettes) needs to sort out how it gets children to decide what they want to do in life. With me it went like this:

I walked in to the careers office. Margaret was the ruler of this domain. She was a tough looking, power-suit comandeering, battle-axe of a woman renowned for her fierceness, and she had fiery red hair (and it has to be said need for breast reduction…). Margaret sat me down and asked me to rack my brains for what I considered my good qualities. As I looked at the list on the piece of A4 paper (I was to tick the relevant boxes such as ‘outgoing’ and ‘determined’ etc, that matched my character), Margaret watched me, her eyes boring a hole in my head. After I was finished Margaret took the paper and fed it in to her computer. She promised me that these results would be converted in to a number of matching work-experience placements.

The following day Margaret called me back in to her domain and gave me the news. Instead of going to work in a printing studio I was given only one choice: to go to the local hospital to be a ’’maintenance man’'for the month. When I arrived on my first day it turned out that I was to do little maintaining, except of the forecourt outside A and E, where I was to pick up fag ends with a man with a funny leg called Rodger–

If you’re readingt this Margaret, I hope you’ve got better at your job by now.

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