OFSTED

Urrrgh! They come every so often - men you have never seen before and will never see again. They come in shiny cars, wearing nice ties and pressed shirts, carrying clipboards. Most of them are bald and have to wear reading glasses. They left teaching long ago and climbed on the gravy train, pontificating about the schools they dip into. It's like me visiting Rome for three days and telling the Romans all about their city. That would definitely not go down well.

I despise OFSTED, what it stands for and the people who lick their lips - happy to be on the OFSTED pay roll. We don't need these pompous turncoats with their fat expenses claims. What schools need is smaller classes, money for books and basic resources, wise advisers who can guide without bringing the weight of some unspoken law down upon the heads of the soldiers at the frontline of education. Office For Standards in EDucation - what a load of bollocks!

The dwarf inspector with his alligator smile will be back in our classrooms in the morning, quizzing me like Pontius Pilate on his high horse about standards and progress since the last OFSTED visit, demanding this "evidence" and that "evidence". For Christ's sake you little twerp - I never committed a crime! I just came to work and did my best and I never missed a single day off work in thirty years. Isn't that good enough for you? And besides - these kids come from one of the most disadvantaged housing complexes in Europe. What do you expect? Miracles?