Getting the Best of All Worlds
Coal Hill School's A-Level Food Studies class sat nervously as they awaited the arrival of their new teacher. The previous teacher, an eccentric Irishman named Garr, had to resign after it was discovered that he only knew how to cook potatoes. Hopefully their new teacher would be better qualified.
The door opened, and to the amazement of the class a bouffanted angel walked in. Ok, so he wasn't really an angel; it was just a metaphor. But it was a really good metaphor, don't you think? The new teacher was tall with a large pointed nose and a lovely white bouffant. He wore a red velvet smoking jacket, and the frills of a frilly shirt extended out of its sleeves. Most of the girls and some of the guys swooned at the sight of this sex symbol. Suthers, a student in his 50s who was still at school due to consistently failing his A-Levels (except for astronomy which was the only subject he was good at), recognised the man as BBC TV's Doctor Who.
"Hello class," he began, smiling benignly and wriggling his eyebrows wildly as an alien form of greeting. "I am Jon Pertwee. I am your new Food Studies teacher."
The class sat up. Mr Pertwee's enthusiasm was contagious (just like influenza), and they couldn't wait to hear what he had to say next. Mr Pertwee strode over to a table at the front of the class. Upon this table were several items hidden beneath a shroud. He grabbed this shroud and threw it off, revealing several remarkable delicacies. The class gasped at the myriad fancies staring back at them. There was a gugelhuff. There was braised hearts. Next to that was green tomato pie. At the back of the table sat a well made giblet pie. Pensioner's casserole was also there. The food studies class had never seen such an incredible array of culinary delights. Mr Pertwee grabbed a Vienesse biscuit and took a bite out of it. He turned back to the class and delivered a Macbeth-esque monologue.
"Men may go shooting off to outer space but it's really their inner space that matters most. I'm sure I'm not the only one who likes to be adventurous at meal times. When the meal I'm eating is home cooked, but doesn't cost the earth, then I know I'm getting the best of all worlds."
The class applauded the knowledgeable dialogue. Jon Pertwee clasped his hands and bowed slightly in appreciation. He summoned a pretty girl (she had Madame H written helpfully on her name tag) to grab the new textbooks for the class from a cupboard behind his desk. Dutifully, she retrieved the small yellow books and handed them out to everybody in the class. The students looked down at their copy of Baking Your Cake & Eating it, by Sarah Charles. The class was content. They knew they were going to enjoy these lessons.
The door opened, and to the amazement of the class a bouffanted angel walked in. Ok, so he wasn't really an angel; it was just a metaphor. But it was a really good metaphor, don't you think? The new teacher was tall with a large pointed nose and a lovely white bouffant. He wore a red velvet smoking jacket, and the frills of a frilly shirt extended out of its sleeves. Most of the girls and some of the guys swooned at the sight of this sex symbol. Suthers, a student in his 50s who was still at school due to consistently failing his A-Levels (except for astronomy which was the only subject he was good at), recognised the man as BBC TV's Doctor Who.
"Hello class," he began, smiling benignly and wriggling his eyebrows wildly as an alien form of greeting. "I am Jon Pertwee. I am your new Food Studies teacher."
The class sat up. Mr Pertwee's enthusiasm was contagious (just like influenza), and they couldn't wait to hear what he had to say next. Mr Pertwee strode over to a table at the front of the class. Upon this table were several items hidden beneath a shroud. He grabbed this shroud and threw it off, revealing several remarkable delicacies. The class gasped at the myriad fancies staring back at them. There was a gugelhuff. There was braised hearts. Next to that was green tomato pie. At the back of the table sat a well made giblet pie. Pensioner's casserole was also there. The food studies class had never seen such an incredible array of culinary delights. Mr Pertwee grabbed a Vienesse biscuit and took a bite out of it. He turned back to the class and delivered a Macbeth-esque monologue.
"Men may go shooting off to outer space but it's really their inner space that matters most. I'm sure I'm not the only one who likes to be adventurous at meal times. When the meal I'm eating is home cooked, but doesn't cost the earth, then I know I'm getting the best of all worlds."
The class applauded the knowledgeable dialogue. Jon Pertwee clasped his hands and bowed slightly in appreciation. He summoned a pretty girl (she had Madame H written helpfully on her name tag) to grab the new textbooks for the class from a cupboard behind his desk. Dutifully, she retrieved the small yellow books and handed them out to everybody in the class. The students looked down at their copy of Baking Your Cake & Eating it, by Sarah Charles. The class was content. They knew they were going to enjoy these lessons.