(Why do I sometimes feel like I am reading out Alistair Cooke’s Letter from America? Instead you get Blog from Germany.)
Just over a decade a go I worked as a supply teacher, usually in rough comprehensives on Teesside, including Hartlepool, home of the monkey-hangers. (In a battle against the French, the locals thought a monkey on board a French warship was a Frenchman. They hanged the poor animal when he “refused to talk.”)
Most of the classes were rough rough rough rough rough. The headteacher at one Hartlepool comprehensive give me a useful tip.
If the kids get too rowdy, just ask them about Lawrence, the transvestite Hartlepool football fan.
I did. That worked. I’d get non-stop anecdotes about Lawrence and his:
- Drink problem
- New dress
- Season ticket problems
- Tendency to re-apply make-up on during the last five minutes of every game
Ever since working at that school, I have got into Hartlepool, following the club and its trials and tribulations. Now, after the club nearly went bankrupt last season, they seem to be on the up. Undefeated so far in the National League, the fifth tier of English football.
Howay the lads!
Have a hearty day, won’t you!