Richard The Third And CarPark Tickets


In 2012, archaeologists and researchers began excavating beneath a carpark in Leicester, hoping to find Richard’s final resting place. The search captured the public’s imagination and the remains subsequently found were confirmed as those of Richard.

Researches are now not only able to calculate the true extent of his deformity, but are also able to determine the true extent of his extended-stay penalties.


I have never been one to  over stay my welcome. So, it was with renewed belief in the innate sporting abilities of my fellow-man, and child, that I resumed my day of supply teaching with Period 3 Year 9 BTEC Sport.

My initial feeling was that a combination of Year 9, BTEC, and Sport would not be a recipe for a peaceful session. I was wrong. Apart from three likely lads who were seated on the furthest reaches of the known classroom, everyone else appeared to be reasonable. In this part of the world, reasonable means not overtly swearing, not storming out of the classroom as a response to some perceived insult, or not going out of ones way to completely ignore the reasonable requests and instructions of the teacher.

The reasonable class had been left reasonably engaging work in the form of the ubiquitous Powerpoint with accompanying video. Praise Be! I was impressed with how a youngish PE teacher led them through the objectives of the lesson and the tasks that they were to perform. There was quite a nice take on looking at success criteria which I was impressed to see coming from a teacher of Physical Education who, presumably, had only recently graduated into his shorts.

“Now, kids. We’ll write the questions down first and then we will view the video, then we will answer the questions.”


In this instance, simples it almost universally was.

It would have been a raging success if the three lads seated on the edge of the Gamma Quadrant had not decided to open up cupboards in their immediate vicinity and throw the contents, therein, at each other.

I said a number of words and shrugged my shoulders with stoic strength of character and I thought of poor old Richard The Third (we used to call him Richard The Turd because of Shakespeare’s bad press for him) and realised that spending an eternity beneath a carpark in Leicester would have meant that he never got to sample supply teaching.

I dismissed the class and immediately heard the sound of a fire-alarm.


One of the Borg at the back of the room had set it off as a parting gesture.

Blessed Be The Borg! 

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