You lumpish beef-witted puttock …

Life in the expat staff common room is certainly different.  Last week we were all given sheets of Shakespearean insults

and instructed to use them at all possible opportunities – presumably to underline our own Englishness and to enrich the students’ vocabulary.

And we all have to have our own boxing ring entry music.  This is apparently the music that is played when you – the professional boxer – walk into the ring in your shiny shorts at the beginning of the match.  It’s an unusual requirement for a language teacher, but at least I won’t have to waste time finding my signature tune should I ever decide to become a boxer in the future.

I’m currently swithering between Blue Monday, which has quite a swaggery, punchy feel to it, and The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba, which would send my opponent the message that I’m not to be messed with.

Then this imperfectly copied worksheet turned up in the common room last week –

leading to much speculation as to what the picture is meant to be, and what exactly the words on the left say.  Any ideas anyone?

One of the teachers was going through a set of animal alphabet cards this week and was quite surprised to come across this one –

which is now pinned up on the wall.

Rather worryingly, one teacher looked at it and asked, ‘What’s wrong with it?  Is ostrich spelt wrongly?’

She obviously hasn’t watched enough David Attenborough.

And I’m very proud that there is now a photo of me on the wall in the reception area, in one of my most famous roles: wicked witch disguised as a poor old beggar woman –

Unfortunately poor old beggar women have to be brassy blondes, because that’s the only wig we have.

I was very disconcerted on Saturday when I discovered that I have something in common with small-but-evil child.  She arrived clutching a love letter, which she carried around with her all morning –

… crustacean fixation is obviously contagious.

 

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