I say, I’ve just read a really ripping yarn about the good work Mike and Joel are up to, and I’ve been trying to coax Muffy away from the pool to tell her, but she tells me she’s all tied up. She and that wacky poolboy! What fresh mischief will they next concoct?
Regardless, you must read instantly about this. By Jove, think of the money this school saves. You could stock your bar with absolutely top-shelf stuff simply with the money you save from not having a gym. Make the urchins run around in the snow, I say! That’ll burn the calories they get from eating those hamburg sandwiches that are so popular with the young Rabble nowadays.
And it’s a lovely notion to feed the urchins lunch at 9 AM. This way, right after breakfast, the servants clean only once daily and you can dismiss them early with half pay. And not only that, but the serving room can double as a classroom after, and just think how much Rabble you can fit into a large room like that. If you have 800 Bootless and Unhorsed, you need only hire one teacher, or you could have the cleaning staff double as teachers, and there you are!
This is going to be just the sort of leadership we need for the Smellington Academy. As you can see from the quotes in the story, the Rabble enjoy being treated like this, so why all this fuss about wasteful reduction of class size? Increase it, say I, and the more the better. The fewer pedagogues in our employ, the fewer of my hard-inherited dollars go toward keeping the Rabble in their Place.
And you can shovel 90% of them out on time. Fortunately, at the Smellington Academy, we can relegate the rest of them to this model public school, or some other public school, until we eliminate the public schools altogether and get the Rabble back onto the street where they belong. Let them smear a little dirt on their faces and sell Chiclets on the street.
I say, I haven’t had a good Chiclet in a dog’s age. Well, must dash. The serving staff seem to be breaking down the closet door, and they want me to supervise the untying of poor Muffy. Who knew she was speaking literally? Oh bother.
Smellington G. Worthington III