“I just want a quiet life.”

This life on the road is killing me. I am fed up with being dragged from one competitive family to the next. I have no friends and no life! This week I was stuck with the Boris family.

Mr Boris is the head of EPIC Primary Free School and they had SATs? Some sort of test thing… Mr Boris was not happy.


Crawford vomited over Tabitha’s test paper.

There was not a bloody single question on creationism?


The adjudicators arrived at EPIC.

It seems bribery is no longer an accepted form of ‘meeting the grade’

Mr Boris was incredulous about the ‘bag’ problem?

“You have these grey bags and you put the tests in them in order and seal them… but there are these other bags that you have to put the tests in before they go in the grey bag? Then there’s this code you have to get right for the register and then put the right register with the right bag and the right labels on the right bags and seal them, lock them away and hide the key and only tell your priest during confession where it is in case you die. You can’t put the grey bag tests in the green bag – that’s bad.  Then you have to put labels on this form for the post. Finally you are left with labels that seem to go nowhere…”

Mr Boris got confused and sealed the level 6 papers in the grey bag! He then had to contact some secret phone line and go onto a website where they checked his legitimacy for UK residence, any past affiliation with the Democratic Party and his IQ. He says he failed two but they refused to tell him which?

“When Lord Clegg gave me this job I had no idea I’d be expected to adhere to rules! I took a pay cut for this! 140K is hardly worth getting in at 9AM for!”


Hugo’s parents took him to the Maldives’ unexpectedly.

Mr Boris just kept repeating, “5%” like some crazed monkey. His wife was very understanding telling him floor targets don’t apply to the ‘Old Etonian’ network.


It would seem the parents of EPIC had not been doing enough to prepare their children for the tests.

“They have let us all down! You’d think it was their school?” Said Boris, as he cried into his Sushi. “This running a school lark is no fun. I’m going back to investment banking.”

In all it was a good week for me. I just sat in the window, gathering dust, watching other peoples misery rather than dwelling on my own. Of course the diary entry that went back to Gilmore Academy on Friday was all ‘singing and dancing’ and about as legitimate as EPIC’s administration of the tests.

I wonder which little darling will be taking me home next? I do hope it’s that young Clegg child. I hear they have extravagant and interesting dinner time conversations.