| Report for Laura Smithard | |
|---|---|
| Approved stories | 2 |
| Pending stories (hidden) | 1 |
| Rejected stories (hidden) | 6 |
| Deleted stories (hidden) | 21 |
| Summary | Mean Boy |
The Scotsman newspaper always ran a story each year about the ranking of all secondary schools in Scotland. It took into account performance and attendance, and also had a section on facilities. When I read the bit about my school, I saw that we had a pony club. Did we fuck.
A breed of civil servant who will look at a school with raw sewage on the playground thanks to overflowing drains, take into account the asbestos, make notes on their clipboards about the aging buildings that would disintegrate slightly in winds, nod sagely in response to the draughty prefabricated huts that had slowly replaced our regular classrooms, disappear forever and give the school a flying pass. In short, cunts.
"You'll never guess the rank shithole I passed today, dear."
"Oh do tell me dear, was it so very filthy?"
"Perfectly squalid! If the sewage doesn't kill them, the untreated asbestos will!"
"Ha ha! Oh, darling. I do wish we could go in there and kill them with our bare hands, though."
"Me too, my sweet. But until that day, we can only hope a roof tile stoves in one of the little bastards' heads."
"You'll never guess the rank shithole I passed today, dear."
"Oh do tell me dear, was it so very filthy?"
"Perfectly squalid! If the sewage doesn't kill them, the untreated asbestos will!"
"Ha ha! Oh, darling. I do wish we could go in there and kill them with our bare hands, though."
"Me too, my sweet. But until that day, we can only hope a roof tile stoves in one of the little bastards' heads."