MEALY-MOUTHED LEARNING

“This is Watercliffe Meadow, a place for learning” says Linda Kingdon, the head teacher at this newly-opened Sheffield educational establishment (actually, primary school). “We decided…we didn’t want to use the word ‘school’ [because] it had very negative connotations for many of the parents of the children here. We want this to be a place for family learning, where anyone can come…There are no whistles or bells or locked doors.”

But according to the Telegraph, the Campaign for Plain English, which opposes ‘the use of gobbledygook in public life’, describes the decision as “ridiculous and part of a political correctness agenda”.

Well, we learned – at school – that a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet. And a school, by any other name, will be as good or as bad, as pleasant or as unpleasant, as those administering and attending it choose to make it.

In these verbally degenerate days, however, time-honoured names have to be twisted, and even banned, so as to avoid possible offence or hurt feelings. So lollipop ladies become “crossing patrol officers”, teachers are called “knowledge navigators”, and dinner ladies re-emerge as – wait for it! – “education centre nourishment production assistants”.

What such custodians of the language as Fowler and Sir Ernest Gowers would make of all this beats me. The most likely thing I would want an “education centre nourishment production assistant” to pass me is the sick bag.

OLD ANTICANT'S CLOUDY CRYSTAL BALL

Peering into the murky depths of looming 2009, Mystic Anticant ventures to predict that the following won’t happen:

World ‘leaders’ start behaving morally and responsibly.

Barak Obama ushers in a New Golden Age.

Gordon Brown saves the universe.

Boom and Bust are officially abolished [again].

Crowds throng the streets chanting “Things Can Only Get Better”.

The Pope makes a pilgrimage to Mecca.

The Archbishop of Canterbury says something sensible.

Osama bin Laden makes a State Visit to Buckingham Palace.

The Taliban sets up a womens’ university.

The Israeli lion lies down with the Palestinian jackall.

The Nanny State admits it doesn’t know best, and dismantles itself.

Zola votes Conservative.

Merkin sobers up.

Wook becomes Mayor of Mankato.

Anticant suffers fools gladly.

AND WHAT DID YOU GET FOR CHRISTMAS?

Ben gave Anticant a tee shirt inscribed with the words of Benjamin Disraeli:

"MY IDEA OF AN AGREEABLE PERSON IS A PERSON WHO AGREES WITH ME"

Needless to say, Anticant always finds Ben very agreeable.

Lavenderblue sent some scrumptious chocolate truffles.

A kind cousin also sent some lovely chocolates and a bottle of very special champagne.

A friend in the country sent some home-made membrillo [quince paste], which we had never tasted before, and which is delicious.

Mrs Malaprop gave Anticant and Ben each a very smart shirt. Evidently she thinks they should get out more.

So although the Burrow Christmas celebrations this year were cancelled because of the ghastly 'flu that still hangs around, we weren't forgotten, and hope to be in better shape for the New Year.

MERRY YULETIDE

Scraping the barrel for uncostly prezzies, BEN TROVATO came up with this.

Here in the Burrow, the festive season will thankfully be more traditional - mince pies galore by Mrs Malaprop, free drinks on the house in the Snug, a carol concert by Dame Barbara's Heavenly Choir of Virtuous Virgins [ guitar backing by Cliff and the Shadows], while Anticant will be giving readings from selected portions of his newly published Memoirs Low Life at the Top.

The Beadle will ensure propriety and due decorum.

By Order

IS THIS A RACIST JOKE?

Ben Trovato says 'I don't care. I think it's very funny.

The train was quite crowded, and a U.S. Marine walked the entire length looking for a seat, but the only seat left was taken by a well dressed, middle-aged, French woman's poodle.

The war-weary Marine asked, 'Ma'am, may I have that seat?'
The French woman just sniffed, and said to no one in particular,
'Americans are so rude.  My little Fifi is using that seat.'

The Marine walked the entire train again, but the only seat left was
under that dog.

'Please, ma'am. May I sit down? I'm very tired.'

She snorted, 'Not only are you Americans rude, you are also arrogant!'

This time the Marine didn't say a word; he just picked up the little
dog, tossed it out the train window, and sat down.

The woman shrieked, 'someone must defend my honour! This American should be put in his place!'

An English gentleman sitting nearby spoke up, 'Sir, you Americans seem to have a penchant for doing the wrong thing.  You hold the fork in the wrong hand.  You drive your cars on the wrong side of the road, and now, Sir, you seem to have thrown the wrong bitch out the window.’

POND LIFE

Ben Trovato says:

Three little frogs arrived at the gates of Heaven, where St Peter conducted the usual cross-examination before admitting them.

"And how did you spend your life?" he asked the first little frog, who replied "Oh, I didn't do anything very much, really, except jump in and out of puddles."

"That sounds harmless enough, said St Peter. "In you go." Then he turned to the second little frog, who gave the same reply and was nodded through.

The third little frog was dressed up to the nines, with long curling eyelashes and a touch of makeup.

"Tell me", said St Peter, "what have you been doing all your life?"

The little creature simpered and said "Oh, I'm Puddles!"

A CONFESSION TOO FAR

BEN TROVATO writes:

While Anticant and Dame Barbara are frolicking in warm thermal baths [or wish they were], I am minding the shop, with the invaluable assistance of the faithful Beadle and Mrs Malaprop, not to mention Wooffie [who says "why not?"].

Gleanings from the internet joke factory have been a bit sparse lately, but I thought the following might amuse - though the bad language at the end will doubtless shock Zola to the core:

WIFE: What would you do if I died? Would you get married again?

HUSBAND: Definitely not!

WIFE: Why not - don't you like being married?

HUSBAND: Of course I do.

WIFE: Then why wouldn't you remarry?

HUSBAND: Okay, I'd get married again.

WIFE: You would? (With a hurt look on her face).

HUSBAND: (Makes audible groan).

WIFE: Would you live in our house?

HUSBAND: Sure, it's a great house.

WIFE: Would you sleep with her in our bed?

HUSBAND: Where else would we sleep?

WIFE: Would you let her drive my car?

HUSBAND: Probably, it is almost new.

WIFE: Would you replace my pictures with hers?

HUSBAND: That would seem like the proper thing to do.

WIFE: Would she use my golf clubs?

HUSBAND: No, she's left-handed.

WIFE: - silence -

HUSBAND: Fuck....