What's supper then? Fancy cakes eaten by queer southern ****s or a piece of toast before bed a la northern scamp?
Not at Lords they don't - it's called the 7 course dinner break When i was a kid my mum always used to call our evening meal tea. But it's always been lunch.
There we are then. I don't argue that if you go out for an evening meal at a restaurant that this can be called dinner. But your common or garden post work meal of an evening is tea. And dinner ladies are exactly that, ladies who serve you your dinner. At lunch time!
Served by men in military uniforms if my last visit is anything to go by. Or was that the lift attendants? I'd had about two gallons of Pimms by then.
I think the confusion here is that tea, or high tea is taken midway through the afternoon and followed later in the evening by dinner. Breakfast, luncheon, tea and dinner.
We had Ladies who waited on your table at my school, you had to call them Miss, even if they were married, which they generally weren't. Frosty old spinsters to a woman.
We had the strap but no buggery - I would have given anything to do Geraldine McCarthy up the dirt box
Anybody called Geraldine McCarthy is gonny luv it up the ****e chute. We didn't call it the strap. It was the belt we got. Double tongued leather instruments of torture. The rumour in our school was that heating your hands on a radiator before getting the belt would make it hurt less. This, I have to say, is not true.
They reckon that part of the reason Scotland banned it was because it didn't work - kids were having competitions to see who could get the most lashes during the school year. I tend to think it's true - we certainly ran a book every year.
It certainly took the school system a long time to understand corporal punishment wasn't a deterrent. It was a badge of honour. What was a deterrent was writing out lines till yer hand cramped while all yer mates were outside playing.
Or detention. I used to say i was late home because I was doing sports practice. My parents must have wondered why i wasn't pushing to be considered in the Olympics with the number of night i was back after everyone else...
We had a proper cane. Meted out by a mad shot arse head teacher who wore a gown and, at assembly, mortar board. He was the spit of teacher in Pink Floyd's The Wall. Early 80's too so it was at the same time. Mr Gibson, God rest his insane soul.
