NO.

A school has told its pupils to break with tradition and address their teachers by their first name.

Children have been told they should now informally address teachers as part of a term-long trial.

The pupils at Boughton-under-Blean and Dunkirk Primary school in Faversham, Kent have been ordered to abandon using teachers’ surnames with the title of either ‘Mr’, ‘Ms’ or ‘Mrs’ in front of it.

Oh that’s really going to re-inforce discipline in the classroom. And why are they using Mr, Ms, or Mrs. When I was at school (Alright, the memory is fading into the fog of old age), the correct form of address was “Sir” or “Miss”.

And the very next paragraph

Now school bosses say they hope the trial will “enhance the relationship” between the kids and their mentors.

Are they not proud of the word “Teacher” anymore? And why do you need to “enhance the relationship” anyway.  FFS. You’re paid by the public to Bloody Teach.

In my opinion, there should always be a strict line between the teacher and the child. How else can discipline be maintained? But then this is the era of a failed education system where anything goes, except teaching and discipline.

And trying to keep his options open the Head teacher, Hugh Greenwood adds.

'Obviously we are just trying it out and if it doesn’t work we will refer back to the traditional custom.'

No Hugh. You opened a can of worms. You’ll have great difficulty cramming them back in. I learned as a parent that kids exploit weakness in a way that  would make Attila the Hun look like a Monk.

I hope Hugh reads the comments following the article. If he does he might rethink his policy sharpish.

What is it?

What is it, that is being loaded on the plane?

Hint: Alan Turing would have liked this.

Union leader wants pensioners to die.

I read that Bob Crow wants pensioners to commit suicide.

‘Why shouldn’t pensioners who are having their pensions attacked be able to sit on the M25 and demonstrate?’

Right Bob, you set us an example and sit down first. Oh, and make it the outside lane please. I like to get a good run up at Prats like you.

19

That’s the number of bullets it took to kill a horse.

ANGRY villagers have claimed it took 19 shots by a police marksman to kill a stray horse at Dunnington, near York.

FFS. Were the Police wearing blinkers or something?

Pam Frankland claimed the scene as police chased one of the horses was like “cowboys and Indians”, and she was disgusted because 19 shots had to be fired before the animal died.

And as another resident points out.

“They may as well have machine gunned the animal. There is real cruelty and incompetence there.”

And the usual weasel words justifying their barbarity from the Force Spokesman.

He said every effort was made to avoid having to shoot the horses, but said: “Ultimately public safety has to be the over-riding concern of the police. We simply could not risk the very real possibility of the horses causing a serious or even fatal road traffic collision.”

Of course the real story about the sorry tale comes from Commenter kmt1977 at 10:02pm

On the first day that these horses were loose the landowner and various people from the estate including myself contacted the police to inform them of the loose horses, they did not want to know, we contacted the RSPCA who again were not interested and said it was no responisibilty of theirs! (Ed. Not my spelling)

The RSPCA again seen at it’s worst.

And as for the Police….

to the police it was like fun target practice stood on top of their 4x4's like dukes of hazzard, one marksman shot the horses in its rear leg off above the hock, shattering the leg into pieces, the horses leg was hanging off, the horse got up in sheer distress, this horse must have been in absolute agony, then another markman shot its other front leg clean off, the horse still struggling about, then got shot another 19 times, the last shot in the horses head, some 25 mins after its back leg was shot to pieces.

And we let them out in public with guns at our airports, and other public venues?

Whole story HERE

H/T to JuliaM at Ambush Predator for this one

My furry friend

From a Cat's Diary

 

Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.

They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my
strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending
comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am. *******s.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.

The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe.

For now...............

Tuesday night Poetry

Not really my thing but I thought I’d bore you with some anyway. After all, we do need some culture in the Blogosphere.

 

FEMALE POEM
I want a man who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long.
One who thinks before he speaks
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I want him to be gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, be not annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! For a man who makes love to my mind
And knows how to answer "how big is my behind?"
I want this man to love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

MALE POEM
I want a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns an Off License and a speed boat. I know this doesn't rhyme and I don't give a shit.

*claps*

Climategate and the cover ups.

Andrew Montford has just published his report over the three enquiries into the conduct of business at the University of East Anglia.

Here is a brief summary of his conclusions.

These enquiries were hurried.

The terms of reference were unclear.

Insufficient care was taken with the choice of panel members to ensure balance and independence.

Insufficient care was taken to ensure the process was independent of those being investigated, eg the Royal Society allowed CRU to suggest the papers it should read.

Sir Muir Russell failed to attend the session with the CRU’s Director Professor Jones and only four of fourteen  members of the Science and Technology Select Committee attended the crucial final meeting to sign off their report.

Record keeping was poor.

His report in full is HERE

H/T to the Englishman

U turn. 20 yards ahead

Remember the article yesterday about the council that was going to refer a family to social services for a vicious crime against their seven year old daughter. The crime being, that they allowed her to walk 20 yards to school on her own. And, shock, horror, cross a road alone.

It is a 45-yard walk from school bus stop to front door and seven-year-old Isabelle McCullough’s parents were confident she could handle it alone.

Their home is in a quiet village and Isabelle had already been making the journey across the small 30mph road for the last year.

Unfortunately council officials disagree – and have warned the parents they face being referred to social workers if they do not escort their daughter to and from the school bus every day.

Well it would appear that the council are carrying out a screeching U turn.

Lincolnshire County Council has decided to take no further action over a father allowing his seven-year-old daughter to walk alone to a bus stop.

Of course we have the usual weasel words that it was only for the sake of the children.

Debbie Barnes, assistant director of Lincolnshire County Council's Children's Services, said: "The safety of children is the responsibility of everyone and where a member of staff brings a situation to our attention where the safety of a child or adult is compromised, we must react.

Here’s where it gets interesting though.

"NSPCC guidance states that children under eight should not be out alone; in this instance, a seven-year-old girl has been standing unaccompanied on a roadside and left to cross the road by herself."

What has any guidance from any non governmental body such as the NSPCC in this case, got to do with social services? And where do they get this figure of eight from? My children were quite happily walking a similar distance to school below that arbitrary figure. (I’ve Just walked it).

Of course the law of unintended consequences comes in.

From the Mum

"This has got so much public attention that we will have to be outside with her for the foreseeable future because now everyone knows there is a seven-year-old standing on the side of the road every morning.”

Nanny state at it’s best. Debbie Barnes. You are the weakest link. Goodbye.

Strike

I see that there has been loads of sabre rattling at the TUC today. Strike Brothers, strike.

Well this blogger has seen it all before in the 1970’s, and remembers it well.

Remember the rubbish piling up in the streets? Well yes, but in fact most sensible people double bagged their rubbish, and left it in neat piles on the pavement.

Firemen’s strike? The armed  forces did a very creditable job with their ancient green goddesses.

Bodies piling up? Well yes, but in temporary mortuaries.

In fact we lived through those strikes with very little real hardship, mainly just a slight inconvenience.

The TUC would have us think that strike action would win this time. Well comrades you must have forgotten the lessons learned. Not only did new legislation,resulting from those strikes emasculate the unions, it kept the labour party out of power until we had the con-trick of New Labour in 1997.

Now that union membership has fallen by 50% since those days, you may, Comrade Crow, and you other Union oligarchs, find that you are fighting a battle that you can’t win.

So I’m laying down the gauntlet. Strike and be damned forever. And of course you’ll take the Labour party with you to the Ninth circle in hell.

Shocking story

 

A girl aged two escaped death after she touched live wires dangling from an untended electricity box.

Tassya-Leigh Greener received burns to her thumb and fingers after the shock travelled along her arms but missed her heart.

The youngster had strayed into a derelict garden next to her sister’s home in Middlesbrough.

Her mother Sindy, 43, is now demanding answers from the firm that owns the unoccupied house.

'I am still in shock about the whole thing. So many children play round there. It could have happened to any child.' she stated.
'I nearly lost my daughter because they didn’t bother to disconnect the electricity or even cover the box. It’s terrible.

'I went outside and Tassya-Leigh was lying on the ground.
'She had been knocked about three feet back. We were all just in shock.

‘The doctors can’t believe it didn’t kill her,’ she added.

Just a couple of questions.

Why wasn’t the garden fenced properly, seeing that you had a two year old? If not, why weren’t you supervising said two year old?

Who the fuck, calls their child Tassya–Leigh?