Italy. An interesting, infuriating place to live as a gin-raddled expat. Some notes and observations.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
That's more like it!
It's all changed now at the local hilltop village bar (posts passim). Where once I was treated with that special brand of undisguised contempt reserved for people who haven't been using it daily for at least 25 years, the local peasants are now prostrating themselves as I sweep in.
The reason? I am now teaching the owner's daughter at the senior school in the town. Therefore I am responsible for giving her some form of academic evaluation both at the end of February and then again at the end of the school year.
"Good morning professore! May I offer thee a coffee?"
"Ah professore, which newspaper will thou be buying this morning? Ah, La Stampa. An excellent choice professore, if I may say so and one admirably suited to your clinical Anglo-Saxon view of our miserable, benighted country which does not merit the services of one such as yourself."
"Goodbye, professore, may I wish thee many good things especially with regard to your valuable work teaching our worthless children who only want to play on the computer, the ungrateful wretches."
That's more like it.
Labels:
brown nosing,
teaching,
Uriah Heep
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7 comments:
Power!...to be used and abused...maybe some extra biccies with your coffee?
I'd go for levering out a few bottles of free Varnelli and then giving the daughter one percent for spelling her name right. And then presumably moving to Tuscany.
I'd keep her back a grade after this year to prolonge your influence.
Leave town now. When she fails to get a First summa cum laude, there will be a horse's head in your bed.....
'Please Sir II: Revenge of the Pupils'.
Do you take your complimentary prosecco whilst wearing a threadbare Harris Tweed jacket, complete with leather elbow patches and a smouldering Meerschaum tucked into its top pocket?
Affa, that is no way to be talking about Mrs Combo
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