Tom Sharpe - Wilt_3_ 02-14 | Текст песни

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• Tom Sharpe
• Wilt_3_ 02-14

'You call Lenin's State and Revolution historical literature? I
most certainly don't. It's communist propaganda of a particularly
virulent kind, and I find the notion that it's being fed to young minds
in your department extremely sinister.'
Wilt permitted himself a smile. 'Do go on,' he said. 'There's
nothing I enjoy more than listening to a highly trained intelligence
leapfrogging common sense and coming to the wrong conclusions.
It gives me renewed faith in parliamentary democracy.'The County Advisor staggered to intervene. 'I really think, Mr
Wilt,' he began, but Mr Scudd was staring maniacally through the
glass pane at the class. At the back, a youth had just passed what
looked suspiciously like a joint to a girl with yellow hair in Mohawk
style who could have done with a bra.
'Would you say this was a typical class?' he demanded and
turned back to Wilt to make himself heard.
'Typical of what?' said Wilt, who was beginning to enjoy the
situation. Ridgeway's inability to interest or control supposedly high
motivated A-level students would prepare Scudd nicely for the
docility of Cake Two and Major Millfield.
'Typical of the way your students are allowed to behave.'
'My students? Nothing to do with me. That's History, not
Communication Skills.' And before Mr Scudd could ask what the
hell they were doing standing outside a classroom with bedlam
going on inside, Wilt had walked on down the corridor. 'You still
haven't answered my question,' said Mr Scudd when he had caught
up.
'Which one?'
Mr Scudd tried to remember. The sight of that bloody girl had
thrown his concentration. 'The one about the pornographic and
revoltingly violent reading matter,' he said finally.
'Interesting,' said Wilt. 'Very interesting.'
'What's interesting?'
'That you read that sort of stuff. I certainly don't.'
They went up a staircase and Mr Scudd made use of the
handkerchief he kept folded for decoration in his breast pocket. 'I
don't read that filth,' he said breathlessly when they reached the top
landing.
'Glad to hear it,' said Wilt.
'And I'd be glad to hear why you raised the issue.' Mr Scudd's
patience was on a short leash.
'I didn't,' said Wilt, who, having reached the classroom in which
Major Millfield was taking Cake Two, had reassured himself that
the class was as orderly as he'd hoped. 'You raised it in connection
with some historical literature you found in my office.'your office.'
'As a matter of fact, I do,' said Wilt and bided his time. If the
sod had come on some sort of political witch-hunt, the emollient
response seemed best. That way the bastard would land with his
bum in the butter, but fast.
'And you consider them suitable reading matter for the
working-class apprentices?'
'I can think of worse,' said Wilt.
'Really? So you admit to a left-wing tendency in your teaching.'
'Admit? I didn't admit to anything. You said I had books on
Marxism-Leninism in my office. I don't see what that's got to do
with what I teach.'
'But you also said you could think of worse reading material for
your students,' said Mr Scudd.
'Yes,' said Wilt, 'that's exactly what I said.' The bloke was really
getting on his wick now.
'Would you mind amplifying that statement?'
'Glad to. How about Naked Lunch for starters?'
'Naked Lunch?'
'Or Last Exit From Brooklyn. Nice healthy reading stuff for
young minds, don't you think?'
'Dear God,' muttered the County Advisor, who had gone quite
ashen.
Mr Scudd didn't look any too good either, though he inclined to
puce rather than grey. 

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