The Curmudgeon

And that is, despite all her university degrees, she can never sense when she is walking into a trap.

The following scenes were reported to me by the Curmudgeoness as she came home, all red faced and shiny, from this week's aerobic classes at the Institute.

Now we fellas are not invited to these dos and most certainly not into the changing rooms afterwards. Here, the glowing ladies rub themselves down with towels and flannels.

We don't have any showers, you see, because the National Lunacy rejected our bid for funds because they had given all the money to the Covent Garden Opera.

It is in the changing rooms, so Mrs C reports, that some of the most venomous gossip in Beggarsdale society takes place. And this particular evening, two of our most embittered adversaries were facing up for a ding-dong.

In the red corner, Teacher Tess, deputy head of an inner city comprehensive miles away, a woman who thought that Arthur Scargill was far too moderate.

In the blue, Cousin Kate, the post mistress, who thinks that Lady Thatcher should be made Queen.

The subject was this year's A-level results, in which passes only went up slightly after several years of huge increases which had some cynics suggesting that standards had been lowered to make Government education policy look good.

Kate, a grammar school girl who had to take over the shop instead of going to university, started it quite innocently: "I see that the A-level results seemed to have levelled out a bit. Does that mean that things have reached a peak?"

Tess was, as usual, deceived. "Well, we have made tremendous strides in recent years. We might have reached something of a plateau."

She didn't add that, in her school, a kid who gets a GCSE in woodwork is looked upon as budding Einstein.

"Ah," said Kate, giving herself an extra hard rub with the towel. "So you obviously don't believe that standards have been lowered?"

"Not at all," said Tess blithely. "That's a myth whipped up by the Tory Press."

"Well although I sell the things, I don't read them very much, apart from t'Herald" said Kate who is also the village newsagent. "Haven't the time. Get most of my news from the Today programme on Radio Four."

"Quite right," said Tess, brushing her crew cut blonde hair. "A very fine programme. I listen every day on the way to school."

"Then you must have heard the report the other day about Singapore and Hong Kong. They still do the old O-level exams there."

"Really?" said Tess, getting into her Calvin Klein track suit. "Must have missed that."

"Yes," said Kate, grinning as she inserted the stiletto. "One professor on the Today programme said that O-level questions out there are still being used here. For A-levels."

Poor Tess. She was out in the car before she realised that she had a dagger between her shoulder blades.

*The Curmudgeon is a satirical column based on a mythical figure in a non-existent village.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.