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morning assembly

My brother was once in a school play, brand-new and written for the occasion. I noted, from his script, this superb take-off of a standard issue head-teacher's speech.


Good morning, school. Hymn number 84. We'll sing the first three lines of verse seventeen, the middle two of verse nine and exclude all verses between one and three whose square roots are not prime numbers.


Forth doth froth, from thoughtless sloth,
war-like words will wake our wild wrath.
Now springs the farmyard hen,
there to thee as those of thine then
born to be below the ground,
on my pet worms my mum has frowned.


I'm certain a lot of you remember, as I do myself, a time quite recently, in fact far too soon after the first occasion I had cause to speak of it, when a good many of you, and of this I'm sure, a good many of you remembered clearly, as indeed those behind me, including myself, clearly remembered having a vivid recollection which I'm sure you, as a school, were proud to have.
[takes off glasses]
Now you all know what I'm talking about — this is your school — remember that and let's have a stop to this nonsense.