30/11/2008 by April First.

Friday

The trainers event has now reached crisis point and there are more new trainers in the school than there are people.

I’ll try that sentence again – there are more than twice as many trainers than there are people, which means that even allowing for two trainers per person, there are still too many.

Meanwhile over half the male members of staff, and two thirds of the male pupils and students now have tattoos on their wrists announcing the code XIVILXXXI

At the morning meeting with Havoc Blythe I brought up the matter of trainers and tattoos, wondering if there was any significance in the matter.

“It is, I fear, a second parasite,” he said. “I should have thought of it at the time, but I must admit I was so pleased with the way we all dealt with the toxoplasmosis affair I never thought to check for a secondary event.”

He seemed genuinely glum about this mistake and Janice felt moved to reassure him, reminding him of the triumph of ridding ourselves of the disaster of the Norman Tradition. “Besides, she said, at least we know where to look – it must be the Parasite Corporation again.”

Havoc Blythe looked cheered up by our sense of loyalty and togetherness and said he would make enquiries.

As for the matter of the VAT and the bill to change our VAT rate he was very supportive of our stand on telling the IT company where it could stick its bill. “I wonder if many schools are falling for this?” he said. I promised to make enquiries.

In the afternoon I did some research on the significance of the XIVILXXXI motif that was now all over the school. The most obvious resolution of it was to break it into groups and consider it as roman numerals. As soon as I started playing with that I got XI VI LXXXI , and it was a matter of seconds for Binky to point out that it was the date of birth of the new head of sport.

I told Havoc Blythe and he asked me to hold off, while he did some more work on the topic. He reminded me of our meal out together tonight. I had not forgotten. I am not worried about it, nor dismayed, except that I actually find myself looking forward to it. Now that is alarming.

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29/11/2008 by April First.

Thursday

An email from our accounts system supplier (whose name I will not reveal because a court case might be pending) saying that because of the forthcoming change in VAT rate they will have to work jolly hard to adjust our system. We don’t have to worry our pretty little heads about it because they will do it all, toiling morning noon and night to achieve this great end, and the cost to the school will be a mere £2800.

Janice and I discussed this and ultimately sent back a long email in which we pointed out that a system which did not operate at the current VAT rate was not fit for purpose, and if they were saying their system was not fit for purpose, then the school would like to have all the money that it had paid for the past five years back please. Alternatively they might change their mind and do the work properly, promptly and for nothing.

As Bodger pointed out, it was very reminiscent of the Year 2000 scam in which the IT “experts” of the west managed to con everyone into thinking that the Millennium Bug would mean that our toasters would not work on January 1st 2000 because the original software had never imagined that the world would survive until 2000.

It was, as we all realised upon the return to work on January 2^nd 2000 a completely invented story, but there are software engineers still living in the Bahamas on the profits of that scam.

So now they have another, and Janice and I for two are not standing for it. We sent a second email in the afternoon saying that I write a diary, and for reasons I have never quite understood, an extremely large number of people read the diary. It is only a matter of time (I said) before I reveal the identities of those running the IT scam.

On the way home I discovered that the local kitchen and bathroom store (which is next to the MFI store which is closing down because it has just gone bust – probably due to the activity of the IT consultants who came to fix its computers for the new VAT rate) has a special “three baths for the price of two” promotion.

Turning the radio on I found that everyone phoning in to Drive on Radio 5 was complaining about IT consultants trying to make a fortune out of the rise in VAT rates.

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27/11/2008 by April First.

Even more students and staff in school today with new trainers.  Some wearing them, some just carrying them.  It seems the whole thing is due to the new head of sport – everyone wants to impress her because she is on the TV.  Actually running in the trainers, or joining the gym club at lunchtime or after school is a bit much, but it seems having the trainers is a status symbol.

At lunchtime I overheard a furious argument between two year 11 students about dieting.   One was eating a packet of crisps.   “They’re just potatoes,” she said, “and that’s a vegetable, and vegetables are good, so that’s not counted in what you eat.”   The other wasn’t so sure, but took a couple of crisps anyway.

Several members of staff were seen with tattoos on their wrists.  I reported them to Havoc Blythe at our daily meeting, along with the issue of the trainers.

“It looks like we have a copy-cat parasite at work,” he said.  “I’m not sure if it will do any harm, but you never know.   I’ve asked MI5 to check with the Parasite Corporation.”

At 2pm the Fraud Squad arrived stating that they had a warrant for my arrest regarding a scam to enhance house prices.  I told them that they should be looking for some mortgage brokers, house valuers, and high street bankers, and they assiduously wrote it all down in a notebook.

“But did you or did you not rent out your non-existent basement for parents of pupils in this school,” the larger one of the squad members said.  I agreed I had.

“And did that person stay in your non-existent basement?”   I said, no this had not happened, largely because the basement was non-existent, and the parent knew this was the case before handing over any money.

“Then why would an otherwise apparently sane parent pay you money not to stay in a place that doesn’t exist?” he asked.

“To get a child a place at this school.  You have to live in a specific postcode to get in here.”

They seemed interested in this, and the smaller one asked for a list of postcodes, which I handed over.

“Is your basement still available?” he asked.  I said it was getting crowded but we might just squeeze in one more.

“It’s my daughter,” he said, “she’s due to transfer to secondary school next September, and we only want the best for her.”

“She’ll find this school very lively and exciting,” I said and they went away to talk to some members of the finance industry.

A quick check through the records showed that we now have 87% of our pupils back in the classroom.  The rest have refused to have the injections, so I sent them notices to suggest they find other schools that don’t have such stringent parasite regulations.

Havoc Blythe asked me out for a meal.

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26/11/2008 by April First.

Sometimes surprises are so overwhelming I just don’t know how to cope with them. At 9.30am Mr Berlusconi – our ex-headteacher, the one before Havoc Blythe and before Mr Putin – walked into the school and came into the office announcing that he was back and ready for work.

I explained there had been changes, and that he really ought to report to the local authority.

“Nonsense,” he said, “I have the mark.” And with that he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and revealed on his wrist the mark XI VI LXXXI.

I said I would consult with the Acting Headteacher, and Mr Berlusconi asked who that was. I said “Doctor Havoc Blythe,” and he simply snorted, pushed me aside and walked along the corridor to what he called “his office”, where he remained for the next hour and a half before HB returned from teaching.

As the morning progressed I noticed that a significant number of teachers were walking around carrying brand new gleaming white trainers. At lunch time an even greater number of them could be seen putting on their trainers and doing stretching exercises.

It was all so curious that when one little group left the building with new trainers on their feet, Janice and I followed at a discreet distance.

Once around the corner into the carpark the group stopped, obviously exhausted from the exertions, and slumped against the cars. Several started to smoke, despite the regulations against this.

Janice and I returned to the office and lo and behold ten minutes later the group returned noisily talking about their “exercise” and waving the trainers in a preposterous fashion.

Looking around I noticed a number of pupils and students also wearing trainers. Since taking over power HB had made it clear that we had more important things on our mind (such as teaching and learning) and that uniform was not going to be an issue – at least while he was in charge.

At our daily meeting HB asked if we would tell him if we noticed any other staff bearing Roman numerals on their wrists. Of Mr Berlusconi there was no sign.

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25/11/2008 by April First.

A new head of sport turned up.  I showed her around the school and noticed that where ever I took her there was instant silence and, quite extraordinarily, a feeling from the pupils that was almost akin to respect.

After we got back to HB’s domain and I left her with our acting head, I told Janice.  She gave me one of those curious looks she reserves for when I am being particularly dense.   “You don’t know who she is, do you?” she said, and I admitted that apart from being our new acting head of sport, I had no idea who she was.

It turns out she is a woman who runs some sort of keep fit programme on television, in which instead of telling everyone not to eat so much she emphasises the need to exercise far more.  I had never heard of her, but I wondered what effect she might have on the female teachers all of whom seem to be on diets all the time, but none of whom ever talk about taking more exercise.

After work I went to Tesco to replenish the rather depleted stocks in my house, and saw a new promotion of small local brand smoothie bottles.  Buy four get, collect some coupons, get a free TV licence or something like that.

It was only when I was removing the bottles from my trolley and putting them on the moving tray that carefully delivers them the two yards to the check out girl that I realised one of the bottles was cracked.  But I realised too late for as I went to put it down again it fell apart, hitting the side of the conveyor belt before breaking and spraying its contents partly over my shoes but mostly over the lady standing next to me.

I apologise profusely, of course, and the lady (who I guess was in her early 40s, and whom I was sure was a parent of one of the pupils at school) started to get rather annoyed.  We both turned to the check out girl, but she just looked at us.  “Can’t you get some materials to help clean this up?” I said, but she just said that she had been told not to leave her station.

In the face of such inaction I was ready to walk back to the entrance lobby where the supervisors tend to gather in clusters, when the woman whom I had sprayed began shouting and demanding action.   A large security guard ambled over to her and asked what all the noise was about.  Despite him being six inches taller than her and looking extremely large and tough she moved within inches of his face, shouting all the time, demanding full compensation for her outfit and threatening legal action.

Two senior members of staff turned up, but the woman would not back down.  Far from it in fact, as she started to offer to take them all on there and then.

I turned away and looked for a way to pay for my goods and get out when a quiet voice behind me said “Toxoplasmosis”, and there was Havoc Blythe creeping up on me again.  (How does he do that?)  He had a shopping basket (not a trolley) with window cleaner, two pears and a packet of frozen peas.  “It generates aggression along with the risk taking.”

He led me to another checkout, and we proceeded through.

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24/11/2008 by April First.

The weekend

At the Creationists’ Bar in the Toppled Bollard (our town’s most famous and infamous public house – the place from which we were barred during the previous regime) Janice told us that she had been to Spec Savers in the town. They were, it seems, doing a special offer in which one could be measured up for and prescribed glasses and get the frames for free.

Janice, who I should explain, has a white skin, and is what is usually called Caucasian, and who once told me that her ancestry was Irish, had them do all the measurements and was then told by the lady doing the measuring that the positioning of her ears, the distance between her eyes and the breadth of her nose were all more in keeping with an Afro-Caribbean face than a white Anglo-Irish face.

It was obviously quite a surprise to her to think that she had a link with an Afro-Caribbean person, or perhaps even family and by the time she told us she already had all the holiday brochures for a trip to the West Indies. On hearing this, Binky said that she had been told by her mother that she was of Japanese extraction although again there is no trace of it in her looks.

We all turned to Havoc Blythe, expecting him with his ultra smart clothes and refusal ever to dress in any way other than in a three piece suit with restrained conservative tie, to confess to some sort of link with royalty, or at least the land-owning aristocracy. He surprised us by announcing that his great-grand-father was in fact an inspector of sewers in Tottenham.

I have never looked into my family history. It is clearly something to be considered.

Naturally we then debated the issue of the takeover of the school, the Parasite Corporation, and what on earth had been going on. HB at last gave us an update on current thinking.

“Forget terrorism being about Al Qaida. Forget spies being about James Bond and Jason Bourne. Al Qaida exists, and there are undoubtedly spies like Bond and Bourne, but that’s not what it is really about on a day to day basis.

“Take overs of our country, our society, our town… anything like that… these things are going on all the time, and there are a million organisations trying to find a new route in, a new breakthrough. The Norman Tradition is one fringe bunch, and they are one among many.

“The Parasite Corporation is a company that experiments with parasites and the way they affect other organisms, and there is nothing wrong or illegal with what they do. The problem is that organisations such as the Norman Tradition, have taken their research a step further, and used the Corporation’s technique of moving the parasites around species. In short, they have experimented with getting toxoplasmosis into humans. They do it through food, and through having people touch canvas and paper that is impregnated with the parasite.”

“Quite a breakthrough, and brilliant science,” said Bodger.

“And with results that are easy to grasp,” continued HB. “Think of the parents who turned up on Friday demanding that their children have places in the school. Risk taking in the extreme – driving in the playground among the pupils, leaving the car unlocked in a school environment – these are not the actions of a rational sane person, but the actions of a wild risk-taker.”

“But why bother?” asked Binky.

“Because,” said Havoc Blythe, “what this results in is a group of people who will take wild risks – who need to take wild risks. If they are not putting themselves in danger they just stop functioning – that is how the parasite drives them. Imagine having hundreds of such people under your control. You want a bank raid done – who better to do it? They might get caught, they might kill themselves, but they might just get away with it and be able to hand some money over to the organisers. You want to drive a competitor retailer out of town, you want to close down a business, you want to destroy a rival political party… An organisation that offers a service to do any of those things will never have a shortage of clients. Think of someone who wanted to disrupt the entire banking system – they would need to have in place hundreds of mortgage brokers and bankers who would take insane risks.”

“Exactly as has been going on,” said Janice. “And the organisers are the Norman Tradition.”

And at last we understood. The school was simply a way of getting a group of people to have the parasite – and once they had the parasite, the Norman Tradition could lease them out to anyone who wanted wild crazy things done.

“But the Norman Tradition needed a group who they could easily follow and stay with,” said HB. “Put the parasite in the food dished out by a restaurant or a supermarket, and you have no idea who has it – you can’t recruit these people. But in a school, there is a register of every child, and every parent. You know who you can call on, to take risks.”

“So having planted the parasites, they left the school, because their job was done,” I said.

“Not realising that the five of us were already onto them,” replied HB. “We are heroes.”

“Do we get a reward?” asked Binky.

“Most certainly,” said HB, but he wouldn’t tell us what.

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