and the system was a waste of time.' He halted in the hope that the Councillor would say something to infuriate Mrs Chatterway. Mr Squidley squashed the hope by agreeing with him.
'Always was and always will be. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They'd be better employed doing a proper day's work instead of wasting ratepayers' money loafing in classrooms.'
'Well at least we have some measure of agreement,' said the Principal pacifically. 'As I understand it Mr Wilt's guideline has been a more practical one. Am I right, Wilt?'
'The policy of the department has been to teach apprentices how to do things. I believe in interesting them in...'
'Crocodiles?' enquired Councillor Blighte-Smythe.
'No,' said Wilt.
The Education Officer looked down the list in front of him. 'I see here that your notion of practical education includes home brewing.'
Wilt nodded.
'May one ask why? I shouldn't have thought encouraging adolescents to become alcoholics served any educational purpose.'
'It serves to keep them out of pubs for a start,' said Wilt. 'And in any case Gas Engineers Four are not adolescents. Half of them are married men with children.'
'And does the course in home brewing extend to the manufacture of illicit stills?'
'Stills?' said Wilt.
'For making spirit.'
'I don't think anyone in my department would have the expertise. As it is the stuff they brew is...'
'According to Customs and Excise almost pure alcohol,' said the Education Officer. 'Certainly the forty-gallon drum they unearthed from the basement of the Engineering block had to be burnt. In the words of one Excise officer, you could run a car on the muck.'
'Perhaps that's what they intended it for,' said Wilt.
'In which case,' continued the Education Officer, 'it hardly seemed appropriate to have labelled several bottles Chateau Tech VSOP.'
The Principal looked at the ceiling and prayed but the Education Officer hadn't finished.
'Would you mind telling us about the class you have organized for Caterers on Self Sufficiency?'
'Well, actually it's called Living Off The Land,' said Wilt.
'Quite so. The land in question being Lord Podnorton's.'
'Never heard of him.'
'He has heard of this institution. His head gamekeeper caught two apprentice cooks in the act of decapitating a pheasant with the aid of a ten-foot length of plastic tubing through which had been looped a strand of piano wire stolen from the Music Department, which probably accounts for the fact that fourteen pianos have had to be restrung in the past two terms.'
'Good Lord, I thought they had been vandalized,' muttered the Principal.
'Lord Podnorton was under the same misapprehension about his greenhouses, four cold frames, a currant cage...'
'Well, all I can say,' interrupted Wilt, 'is that breaking into greenhouses wasn't part of the syllabus for Living Off The Land. I can assure you of that. I got the idea from my wife who is very keen on composting...'
'No doubt you got the next course from her too. I have here a letter from Mrs Tothingford complaining that we conduct classes in karate for nannies. Perhaps you would like to explain that.'
'We do have a course called Rape Retaliation for Nursery Nurses. We thought it wise in the light of the rising tide of violence.'
