More Bloody Reports

So, you admit you used the word "AND" twice in one sentence?

When will this torture cease?

At Nuova Lazio High School, we're moving onto the Senior Reports, and stress levels have reached new peaks.

For the first time since I've been here, the management have agreed to have a whole school meeting to discuss the entire stuffed-up system.  I just hope that real truths will be told, or if we'll go back to weak-assed euphemisms, "Could do Better"

Could do Better?

Words fail me.  At least words that I would wish to use on a (mostly) family oriented blog.

Oh stuff it. 

WARNING

Some harsh language is going to be used.
If you do not wish to be shocked, horrified or scared please read the rest through slitted eyes, and ignore any bad words.  (Not bad grammar, syntax or spelling, because there is none.  We've been thoroughly trained in the eradication of these foul dangers to civilisation as we know it.  Did you know that the improper use of a semi-colon can cause blindness, dementia and hair growth on the palm of a hand?)

I have never seen a balls-up like it.

In all my years in the Army, I've seen SNAFUs, SUSFUs, TARFUs, and FUBARs.  Some of those were verging on the apocalyptic.  I've seen 10 tonne trucks trying to fly, water towers suddenly collapse, demolition of approx. 4000 tons of mud ending up with the biggest quagmire since the Somme.

I've seen the most dangerous thing in the Army, a second lieutenant with a map, lead a section of troops into the woods in Germany, and emerge shaken and starving 3 ½ days later, which was a bit of a surprise to me (as their Troop Commander), my Battery Commander, the Regimental Commander and the RSM, because they were only supposed to be gone for 2 hours.  We ended up having about 200 soldiers and a helicopter looking for them.

With all due respect Sir, that ain't f*ckin' NORTH

I’ve been in a riot in a Hamburg strip club ( a very drunk and angry Jock (a Scottish soldier) complained in a very loud voice that he couldn’t  see the rather large and gaily swinging breasts of the “young” lady on the stage because the stupid f*cking Para (a gentleman who is a member of the parachute regiment) in front of him kept on f*cking standing up. 

Hey Sarge, which one's the enemy?

[In a quick aside, I will say that I have never heard anyone in the world use such terrible language with such a fierce, almost poetic flow as a drunken Jock, especially if he came from Glasgow.  There’s something in the use of the Glaswegian glottal stop which adds to the sheer majesty of the language.]

Anyway, the Para objected to being called a “big f*cking fairy with an arse as big as the Queen f*cking Mary and a face like a c*nt chewing a lemon” (notice the use of an unconscious rhyme here, sheer poetic delight) and threw the Jock (now unconscious) onto the stage where he collided with the performer.  The bouncers interpreted this as an attack on their artiste and began to kick the poor Scot.  His fellows in the audience (I would estimate about half a company) fell upon the bouncers with cries of “We remember El Alamein you f*cking Huns” and “Achtung Spitfeur!" (Obviously an aficionado of the Commando Comics school of German).  The other half, being actually sober enough to have noticed that it was the Para who had "gubbed" their mate turned upon the Para and his mates, with cries of "Remember Arnhem, you big f*ckin' poofter" (Nobody said fighting cries had to make much sense)

The next half hour, until the MPs and the German cops arrived was a bewildering image of chaos incarnate, and was the closest I have seen to a visual representation of the utter f*cking balls-up which is our reports system.

So for the next week, we'll have Frantic Form Teachers, Desperate Deans and Muddled Managers, all trying to get things finished for Friday, which is the final deadline.

As a final pointer to the utter f*cking balls-up which is our reports system, the meeting we were promised to discuss the utter f*cking balls-up which is our reports system has been cancelled.

Right Ringo, what the f*ck have you done to our system?

I suspect that Ringo and Pompous were concerned that the irate staff would rise up and lynch them, and that the Principal was concerned that we'd get blood on his nice new carpet.

OK Pompous, why didn't you meet the deadlines for printing?

Just two weeks to go until we get free of this place.

And just to add the final f*cking icing on the f*cking cake, I've just found out that the last week of term is to be a f*cking MUFTI WEEK.  When all of our little angels can wear whatever they bloody want, in the spirit of "SPIRIT WEEK", the meaning of, and purpose of which (in terms of Teaching and Learning, which is why we're supposed to be here in the first f*cking place)  I've never been clear.

I wonder if there's a safer, saner job somewhere out there.

Maybe mine clearing in Zimbabwe?

On second thoughts, perhaps not.