Now should you have been a brave enough person to have already read my previous School Run tirade or to trawl back and read it now you’ll know that The School Run is not my favourite time of day.
In fact, today may be the actual day that I am summoned into school to be reprimanded for Young Master Benedict not only repeating my colourful language but also his possible expulsion for his accompanying interesting gesticulations.
Yes, a very naughty man in a pickup truck thoughtlessly obscured my vision in two separate incidents; one on the central reservation of a highly dangerous road. I was not happy bunny at all; I was a very cross bunny indeed. By the way I don’t look like a bunny; it’s a metaphorical English expression. (Although I admit I did have plastic surgery to relocate my ears but I kept catching them in the car door so I had the operation reversed.)
However, I have been working on a series of viable of excuses to give the headmistress which are;
1. I have Tourettes Syndrome; I actually need sympathy and understanding. (Breaking down in tears and asking for a cup of lukewarm tea.)
2. I am going deaf; therefore regrettably I cannot gauge the level of my own voice and speech that would normally be muttered under my breath in a dignified manner is unduly loud.
3. I am teaching Master Benedict sign language and his interesting gesticulations are a poor interpretation of the number two.
4. Master Benedict is in training as an air traffic controller; his two fingered gesture does not have rude implications. In fact it means; “Do not land; one of your wheels is missing.”
5. It was not me ranting; the radio was airing an episode of the Jerry Springer show/ Question Time at the House of Commons/ A private conversation between His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and his horse. (This is also metaphorical analogy.) Anyway; I haven’t decided yet; I like to fly by the seat of my pants. (And on a windy day I can travel miles.)
6. I had seen a steam engine and was unable to prevent myself from contorting both physically and mentally into extreme behaviour which was regrettable but nevertheless fully understandable. (You may need to read my previous blog “You thought I disliked football? You haven’t heard me rant about steam engines,” to fully appreciate this serious disorder.)
7. There was a football wedged under my brake pedal and I feared for our lives; any woman fearing death is allowed to “speak from the heart.” My accompanying gesticulations actually meant “Don’t throw balls in the car Master Benedict because now we only have two seconds to live.”
8. Master Benedict had found a mouldy old sweet down the back of the seats and the fluff which had attached itself to it was causing him to choke. In his distress he misheard me. I was in fact saying; “Suck! Suck! Suck!”
9. I am suffering from repetitive finger-strain injury; unfortunately my fingers now spontaneously do as they please; It is a serious medical condition and I have already been hospitalized on a number of occasions in order to have my fingers surgically removed from my nose.
10. Master Benedict is a compulsive liar; I said nothing whatsoever; he must have heard it somewhere else. In addition, he’s not my son and I don’t even know who he is.
If you have an alternative excuse please leave a comment or email me at Jane@Italka loadofrubbish.co.uk
In the meantime I have decided to take some serious steps to counteract bad driving;
1. I am going to mount a tannoy system on my car and follow the offenders around broadcasting to the world their driving offences.
2. I am also going to erect an anti-tank gun on my car; I believe it will have a greater “impact” than merely ramming offender and the added bonus of less damage to my car. 
3. I am going to put a sticker on the back window which reads “Premenopausal Woman on board; cut me up at your own peril.”
4. I am going to put stickers on the side of my Volvo like they did on the side of WWII Spitfires for every boy racer I successfully “take out”. I will be known as either “Bomber Turley,” “The Blue Volvo,” or perhaps just “That Crazy Bitch.”
5. Eat some more chocolate.
Ps I reversed into a car on Monday.
© Jane Turley 2008
6 responses
Your excuses are the best. Wish I could come with some more 😀
“I’m sorry, headmistress. What seems to be the f@#$ing problem?”
Well those are both interesting propositions. Of course any excuse to have contact with Clarkson is worthy of merit. In fact what they really need is a female presenter of Top Gear and since they like to have presenters with strong physical characteristics I could very possibily be a suitable candidate.
Blaine..you know what? Your comment has a certain attraction. Can’t think why though…
You are teaching him the words to save him hearing them at school and not knowing what they are, thus being laughed at. And because the school is more interested in teaching him advanced algebra instead of something that will help him get through life, it is therefore the school’s fault he said it!
Now, now, now; it’s obvious that baby hasn’t arived yet as they don’t teach advanced algebga at 7 years! In fact you can now obtain a new government qualification (can’t remember what it’s called) which is supposed to be equivalent to O level and recognised as such by employers BUT contains No algebra at all! It’s multiple choice and lasts about 40 minutes; that I’m afraid says it all.
I can see that you will have high hopes for The Little One so prepared for at least 16 years of utter frustration!
Oh my… Tourette’s syndrome would be the best. It’s hard to fake if you just keep doing it!
“Thank you for the tea… you $*@#*@#!”