Kes 2000

A letter from Casper Jr

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I'm fed o' this bloody game! Our Jud's gone and done it again, the bastard. He's tekken mi motorised skateboard to work this mornin'. Sod. Since he got that new job he thinks he's bloody it. He goes on and on about how hard work it is having to answer t' bloody phone every thirty seconds, having to put yer hand up to have a wee and to mek t'time up after work. But thats nowt to do wi me. I don't care what they say about there being no other work around. I dunt care what anybody sez, I'm not workin down t' sodding Call Centre.

"Ayup! Post Office Inquiry line, Billy Casper 'ere! What the chuffin' 'ells that want nar, yer southern puff!" Dunt think I'd fit in somehow..

This mornin in assembly they were braying on about drugs and just say no and all that. Fat chance. Theres so much skag in this village they've started callin' t' place Colombia!. Macca were trying to get me out trainspotting last neet - an' they shut t' line ages back! Round bike sheds its all skunk, blow and billy whizz. And they're not characters from t'Beano or t' Dandy neither. Half o' t class is gazing out t' winder and overdosing on Mars bars, other half aven't slept since last November and waint shut up for nobody. Teachers are no good - they're so scared of getting accused of abuse they go on neet classes to learn how to look mean and give dirty looks.

Mr Grice had us int' office after and he stared at us for five minutes really hard then came over and breathed on us. I'd rather have t' stick! I were late fer games n'all. Got into trouble for having a pair of Cicas and a second hand Donnie shirt. "Wheres your Nikes, lad!" he shouts. "And whats this kit? I want Premiership lad! None of your conference crap! Wheres yer note!" So he digs out this Nottingham Forest Pierre Van Hooijdonk shirt and forces me to wear it. Bastard. I told him I'm going on strike!

Then out on t' astro turf we gets into this big nonsense about Mr Sugden. He'd decided he were David Beckham and goes round mumbling in this stupid voice, flicking his fringe and practicing his free kicks. We told him its all Leeds Utd these days but he bangs on about being Champions of Europe and his slapper girlfriend were cheering him on from her Ford Culprit in't car park. "Anyway," he mumbles. "Ronaldo's int wash!"

As usual he keeps us late with the obligatory injury-time comeback. Of course to do this he's got to come up with a few injuries. It were my turn to get the Roy Keane treatment from Macca. I wondered why he were shaving his head at half time.

To be continued_______________

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