Mine

This week I been doing exam invigilating at Cardiff High School everyday and getting paid minimum wage for the privilege.

Yesterday, during a GCSE Media Studies exam, I saw a half-caste kid with corn rows using an actual hankerchief. Sod integration, that must be a true sign of the breakdown of culural barriers. How often do you ever see hankerchiefs anymore let alone on a teenage kid who's a bit black? Poor lad had it out every few minutes, so snotty was he. I decided that his embrace of extinct British culture was so impressive that I was quite taken with him by the end of the exam. But then bear in mind there isn't much to do during those hours of sitting.

That is, apart from today. It was the year 10 Welsh exam. A few were doing the proper course having taken it for GCSE but the vast majority of the sports hall had a short course inflicted upon them that was worth a measly half a GCSE. As you can imagine they weren't exactly putting much effort in concentrating. A few didn't even both filling out the exam paper, some others just doodled all over it. I was regularly asked when they could leave and keeping them quiet was something of a challenge. Thing is I can completely understand why they were getting agitated. Rather than keeping them quiet, the bigger task was keeping my face straight. The kids had been really good the whole week, they were only acting up because they couldn't give a shit about the exam. And who can blame them. The whole thing was hilarious. It does go to show that no matter what the Welsh Assembly and Welsh enthusiasts may harp on about, even Welsh kids couldn't give a rat's about being Welsh.

But, yeah, round my way all the comprehensive non-church schools are rough and scary places. I thought this was true of all schools but NO. Cardiff High is pretty nice school, though very large. The teachers are damn nice to them as well. When one kid turned up late he had a teacher saying gently to him, 'now take your time, get your breath and start when you're ready'. Not at my school I can tell you. Woah betide anyone who dares put their precious league table points at risk.


And on a completely separate note. I hate, abhor, abominate, deprecate, revile, despise, detest, deplore, execrate, loathe, hate, hate, hate, hate packing. RRRrrrrr!

I hate to be the one to break it to you folks but England do not have a hope in hell of winning the World Cup.

I know to make such a comment is little more than blasphemous treason but, let’s be honest, it’s true. In match number one they only won by the chance of an own goal; that being not even one that they scored themselves. Match number two it took them eighty minutes to even warm up. If that’s all they can manage against Paraguay and Trinidad and Tobago then how exactly are they going to match up against Germany or Brazil?

But that’s all by the by. Not only am I so sure England aren’t going to win, I actually hope they don’t. The British determination to convince themselves each year will be their year is becoming rather pathetic. Continually invoking victories past will not make this year as successful. The very fact that the last football victory was forty years ago is bad enough. But every European or World Cup it gets rolled out of the cupboard once again to be heralded as a moment of true greatness. Then every time they fail miserably.

Most people have finally come to realise that Tim Henman will never win Wimbledon, for some reason football fans are just a bit slower off the mark.

But in the non-existent chance that they do win I think I’ll pack up and leave the country. The media and consumer industries are already ridiculously saturated by the game as it is. And I really don’t want to witness the knighthood of Sir David Beckham and Sir Wayne Rooney thanks very much. As soon as the English get even the slightest sniff of victory that will be all we’ll hear FOREVER. The thought is unbearable.

We still friends, right?

I may be going daft in my old age but when did punk rockers ever wear flowers in their hair?