"Black shoe, black shoe, change your black shoe."

After an anonymous source wiretapped the Head's office, they rendered the transcript of one meeting to our correspondent Julie LaSange on the wall of the toilets in human faecal matter, and after correcting the grammar mistakes where the words had been scraped off by stray coins from the local money-uppers, sent the picture on the back of a cornflakes box to us.

[Transcript reads:]
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Dust plumed up from the newly demolished school building, swamping the school estate the Head’s mansion occupies. Comrade Szmeletrotski coughed at this sudden splurge of fumes as he looked wistfully into the middle-distance, and took out a large packet of “Asbestos-be-Gone” before quickly swallowing it. It was obvious from how efficiently he did it, and how his face remained the same pasty white during the whole process, that he had practised swallowing a lot more. Wavey Don Abdi was shuffled into the room, and the Head greeted him with a suspiciously off-white smile:

Mr Szmelileaks: Which one are you, again? What are you here to discuss?

W4v3y-D0n-Abd1: Well bruv, I’ve been thinking, and I think being the School Council President and all that, shouldn’t I be giving the mandem what they want?

Mr Szmellymalechickenski: Well, sure young child; what do they want?

Abdi Amin: We want normal shoes, innit.

Mr Szmylordandsaviourkowski: Why would I do that chancellor Abdi? Plenty of other reasonable arguments have been made and still I have kept my stance on a point of principle (and stubbornness); why would I change now?

What’s more, how can you possibly be expected to learn when your crepes are fresher than the sell-by date on this 'new' packet of doughnuts that I acquired through completely legitimate means!

Frequent-McDonald's-Disabled-Bathroom-Goer-and-Keen-Amateur-Camera-Man-Abdi: But decapitated Head, our crepes don’t inhibit our learning in any way, they don’t infringe on how similar we look already, and uniform is already quite antiquated and inconvenient-

Mr Szupremeleaderkowski: Hey there young person-of-colour youth! Who taught you those big words? Do I really have to buy even more of these? Listen! I don't think you’re listening! You see this thing on my wrist? It’s worth more than you, your education and your family - I mean - we are unable to consider your considerations at this time due to our current workload.

At this he pointed to a large pile of motivational posters with less-than-vague sexual references on them, shaking his head as he did so. The late bell rang in the distance, and the collective sound of a thousand children moaning suddenly rang through the school and the mansion.

Comrade Abdinski IV: But sir! What about all those badges you got on the bottom of your letters? Aren't you supposed to be listening to us?

Mr Szmellimrunningoutofpunski: What? Oh no, we got those in exchange for mild sexual favours. Haven’t you seen that poster saying “Release your potential”? God! Sometimes I don’t know why I bought so many of those goddamn banners! It’s almost like they have no use whatsoever. Listen, we’re a politically correct school, so we can only use black shoes.

After this the Head shoved him out of the room and he was left alone. It was 8.36 now, and as the throng of students entered the gates, the Head, arms around back like that 50 shades poster he saw once, let out a wry smile. He picked up the book he was reading, 1984, and skipped to the poster descriptions, taking notes. Book in hand, he went off down the corridor, still thick with certain outdated, poisonous chemicals, to find some classroom to peer in for six seconds.


DISCLAIMER: This is obviously a spoof. All that was said in the article above is fictitious. Anyone who believes otherwise is just a bit simple.