The Art of Stupidity, Combined trilogy. - John Moody - Bog

Little is known about the history of Rufus Comprehensive School, opened in the early fifties on the site of an old pig farm. An accurate but unkind observer had once been heard to say that little had changed. Both were long low buildings full of noisy, smelly creatures. It was assumed that Rufus had been a Saint, but he could have just as well been the benefactor's dog. Brian Wilson is an accident prone art teacher, who manages to involve just about everyone he meets in one ridiculous situation after another. The book is full of humour, from start to finish. Example (after being accused of swearing in the classroom) "And the swearing?" responded the Headmaster. "Male menopause," replied Brian. "Good grief, what next?" said Mr Redbone. "It exists, you know." Brian said, warming to a possible escape route from his dilemma. "Recent studies have shown that men try to pass it off as just stress of overwork or something. But it has all the same symptoms that affect women. Fatigue, hot flushes, severe headaches, and you can add to that male aggression and sexual dysfunction." The Headmaster was by this time slumped in his chair thinking that this teacher had far too much creativity for his liking. "Stop right there, Mr Wilson. I hope you are not suggesting that you should be given some time off because of male menopause? Good grief, we would have half the staff off complaining of severe mood swings. And the Department of Education would have to supply all its male teachers with free patches." "That's very funny, Sir." Example 2 (after a small accident to his manhood) "Mr Wilson, I do not think that it is a very bad wound, but it is in a sensitive area. We had better anesthetize it and how you say, put it to sleep for a while." Doctor Diaz reached for what seemed to Brian a very big syringe. "Bloody Hell! You're not going to stick that thing where I think you are going to stick it, are you?" Brian shot off the table and his trousers that had been open to the knees, promptly dropped to the floor. "Only a little joke," chuckled the Doctor, placing the large syringe down he picked up a bottle of antiseptic and some wadding. "But this may sting for a moment and feel cold, but as you say no pain, no gain." Just what I need, thought Brian, a Doc with a sadistic sense of humour. "Bet he uses staples instead of thread." There are parts of your body that feel natural to be fondled when in bed with your loved one. But, at this moment in time, with his trousers around his ankles, he was anything but comfortable with the idea. It was unnatural to have your manhood held firmly by a man wearing owl like spectacles, and a torch attached to a headband so that he could get a better look. It didn't help that the only surgical gloves the doctor had found were fluorescent pink. "I think, Mr Wilson that you should lay down and occupy your mind with something, but nothing naughty or saucy, I will have enough trouble as it is, without it waving in my face." Brian lay back down and tried to think of something that would take his mind off the procedure. Unfortunately, he also saw the doctor advancing with what looked remarkably like the same kind of stapler they used in the Art department. Brian remembered the pain when he had accidentally stapled his finger to a canvas he was making. "Wait a second Doc; can't you just tape it or something? Don't think it needs those bloody big staples in it, does it?" "This is much quicker and more efficient, I will empty half a bottle of surgical spirit over it first, it may sting for a little while, but after that you will not feel a thing. Believe me it's the best method. It is for safety reasons. Tape will not hold and believe me; this is much quicker than sewing. Anyway, I am no good at sewing, couldn't get my foot in a sock I once repaired. I could end up attaching it to your leg." The Doc grinned again, "Only kidding, it gets me through my day. You need a sense of humour in this profession."