I went to a convent school, Notre Dame. It was unfortunate (and teenage girls are so cruel), that the caretaker (Mr Peacock) was hunch-backed and we nicknamed him Igor/Quasimodo. He was also stone deaf.
In readiness for speech day, the whole school was rehearsing the national anthem in the school hall. The head teacher, Sister Veronica, watching us from the stage, had already lost patience because some girls were giggling and issued a stern warning to the next girl who laughed.
As we began the anthem again, the stage trapdoor opened behind the headteacher and up came Mr Peacock, his back turned to us and completely oblivious of our presence. We tried very, very hard not to laugh but it was truly impossible.
Should Gransnet delay the first posts from new posters?
To think that London, or anywhere else for that matter, does not belong to any one demographic
Brussels police ordered to attend a right wing conference attended by Braverman and Farage