Parents' Evening Bad Education

BELL RINGS

-MRS PICKWELL TUTS

-Every morning. Off!

This programme contains some strong language.

HE RETCHES

Sorry.

Carry on.

SHOUTING AND LAUGHING

Morning, class.

-ALL:

-Morning, sir.

I have taken the liberty

-of doing the form register for you.

-Shh, shh.

Jing, your language is very beautiful

but means nothing to me.

Parents' evening tonight, sir. You get to meet my mum.

Everyone says she's a MILF.

-Chantelle, have you not got a class to be preparing for?

-Maths.

We're doing fractions.

Apparently 23 won't go into 15. Mrs Mollinson says it's impossible.

We'll see about that.

-BOYS LAUGH

-Oh, I can't believe you did that!

Rem Dogg, why are you late?

-Wheelchair.

-And you, Mitchell?

-Well, this thing don't push itself, does it?

-Look, please,

it's Monday morning. I have a hangover.

Joe, can you just go and see if that first aid box

has got any Berocca in it?

Yes, Dad(!)

PUPILS LAUGH

Oh, my days! He just called Mr Wickers Dad! What a helmet!

Shut up, Mitchell.

At least he knows who his dad is.

CLASS JEERS

SNORING

DOOR SLAMS And that is how quiet Anne Frank

and her family had to be to evade capture by the Nazis.

Mr Wickers, I need the papers.

-You 'vant to see my papers?

-The mock exam papers, Mr Wickers.

Anything?

Has anyone ever told you that you would make a wonderful SS officer?

Yes. Now shall we just do this in my office?

Yeah.

I need to process the mock exam results

for parents' evening tonight.

Yeah, right, good. I was hoping you'd ask about those.

Stop fanny farting, Mr Wickers. Just give me the results, where are they?

HE CLICKS FINGERS

-All up here.

-What?

Seriously. Give me any student, I'll give you their results.

-Mitchell Harper.

-A.

-Chantelle Parsons.

-A.

-Natalya Lisovskaya.

-A.

Natalya Lisovskaya was a double gold medal-winning Soviet shot putter.

What they get up to in their free time is none of my concern, Isobel.

-SHE EXHALES

-Don't call me that.

Izzy? Is that better? Sort of more chummy. The Izzter.

I suppose you think you've got balls coming in here

playing your silly little games. Well, let me tell you something,

I've got bigger balls than you'll ever have.

Well, it's written in the gent's, but I assumed that was just a rumour.

It's a metaphor, Mr Wickers. Let me hit you with another.

You're skating on very thin ice.

And that ice is cracking with the weight of me and my ginormous balls.

Two's company, three's a crowd.

-So, wait, now you've got three balls?

-By five or they all fail.

-By five?!

But that's like 30 papers!

That's like three hours marking!

This is slave labour. You are persecuting me.

Parents' evening is my opportunity

to show you up for who you really are.

By five, or you'll be running home to your daddy

like the pathetic little boy you are.

Oh, I won't be running anywhere.

-Really?

-No.

Because Daddy is picking me up in the car.

-Alfie, your post in my pigeonhole again.

-Morning, Rosie.

What is it, another nomination for Teacher Of The Year?

Outstanding payment on a student loan.

HE CHUCKLES DISMISSIVELY What are you like?

-Lovely.

-I look terrible, but thanks.

I was thinking about you last night.

I was on my way to the gym for an ab-attack.

And I went past Cafe Rouge. Reminded me of our little date.

-It was a staff party.

-You say potato, I say...

date.

Oh, please, Alfie, not today.

-Richard broke up with me last night.

-What, HE broke up with YOU? Why?

-You're perfect.

-Oh, you know, I guess it's a relief, you know.

I mean, I'm a very physical person

-and I think Richard was intimidated by that.

-What a square!

I mean, for the last few months we barely touched each other.

I'm going to take a break from relationships and throw myself into my voluntary work.

No more dating men for me.

Just orphans and abused children.

Oh, as in the charity work?

-O-O-Obviously.

-Obviously, yeah.

But if I need some teary pity sex, you'll be on my shortlist.

I'd clear my diary like that.

Except for Thursday. It's my dad's birthday,

so he's taking me and a friend to go and see Cirque du Soleil.

Richard used to love the circus.

Someone put your post in my pigeonhole.

Yeah, like I'm going to fall for that trick, Mollinson.

Class, I've got good news and bad news. What do you want?

The bad news.

Well, Jing, the good news is that today's history module is Pearl Harbor,

and we all know what that means.

It's class wars!

OK, so it's December 7th, 1941. We're in Hawaii, a military port.

The first thing we're going to require is some Americans.

Andre, you're Ben Affleck. Joe, Josh Hartnett.

-Rem Dogg, you're a tank.

-Yes!

Next up, I'm going to need a nurse. Where's my Beckinsale?

-Please, sir, I'm great with cancer. I know all the words to Beaches.

-All right, you can be Beckinsale.

Now, finally, we require a member of the Japanese Imperial Air Force.

The Emperor will be proud of you, my lotus flower.

-She's Chinese, you muppet!

-I know.

OK, positions! It's kamikaze time.

Wait, sir...what about the bad news?

Um... You might, probably, almost definitely

are all going to fail your mock exams.

What do you mean we're going to fail?

It's complicated, all right, I didn't want to bore you with it.

The important lesson here is for you to look for the positives in failure.

Like, for example, my grandad.

He suffered failure. Lung failure.

Which meant that I inherited a Volvo.

So remember that. Always look for the Volvo.

So it's a quiet morning in Pearl Harbor, but not in Tokyo.

-Alfie, we can't fail. My dad'll kill me.

-Don't be silly.

My dad'll kill you.

Well, I mean, I guess I could mark some of them.

Listen, you mug! You need to mark all of them.

Yeah, you don't want to see my dad when he's angry.

He used to train in the same gym as David Haye.

And Sally Gunnell.

THEME FROM JAWS

Nice kicks.

-Um, thank you?

-Give them me.

-What?

-Give them me.

No.

You couldn't even wear them, they have an orthopaedic heel.

-Shut up, Downton Abbey.

-They would play havoc with your arches.

THEME FROM JAWS RETURNS I'm sorry, Grayson,

I'm not giving you my shoes.

Whoop, whoop!

It's the sound of the police!

You have been apprehended.

You have the right to remain silent,

although that's unlikely, as you've been arrested

by Sergeant Fraser, head of Dave's Witty Banter Unit.

Step inside, Alf, need a quick conflabamundo.

-Oh, Give me strength.

-Grab some plastic, homeboy.

Look, you're not firing me, are you?

If this is about those fire extinguishers,

I was doing a class on democracy.

I was using Mitchell to demonstrate Guantanamo Bay torture techniques.

-MIMICS HOLSTERING

-Holster those pistols, young ranger,

lets just control-alt-Apple-Z that last little outburst, shall we?

-Although for the record, that can definitely never happen again.

-I get it.

You are intimidated by my teaching methods. Right?

Yeah, but I make learning fun. If I was a font, I'd be Comic Sans.

You are so Times New Roman.

Shut the funk door! You know I'd be Wingdings.

Crazy. Any-shiz, some of the old school don't get you.

But I do. I'm young, I'm cool and I find your approach...

IMITATES GLUGGING

..refreshing.

However, this little man-to-man is about Rosie. Miss Gulliver.

As Beyonce says, she's a single lady and I'm going to put a ring in it.

What?! You fancy Miss Gulliver?

I likey...

I lighty.

Oh, what's that smell?

Whiffy banter!

Oh, for f... Look, what's this got to do with me?

-Because, Alf, you're going to be my wingman!

-Uh-uh, no way.

I need your help to get Gulliver to go on a date with me.

I'll literally follow your every word.

My EVERY word?

All right. Well, I guess I could give you SOME pointers.

First piece of advice...

completely ignore her.

Women love that shit.

-Really?

-Yeah, it'll definitely work.

I can see we're going to make quite a team.

And look, I'm already prepped. Downloaded a chat-up app.

Let's roll the dice.

You're ridiculous.

Roses are red, violets are blue,

later tonight I'll be hanging out the back of...

I probably won't use that one, actually.

Can I go now?

# Bounce

# Bounce

# Bounce

# Bounce

# Bounce... #

So, I decided, this evening,

-take your mind off Richard, I would book us a little table...

-No, no,

absolutely, 100% definitely not.

Sounds like a maybe.

Look, I think the reason things didn't work out with Richard

is cos he was so old and boring.

You know, what a lot of women prefer nowadays is a toy boy.

Ashton and Demi.

-Guy Ritchie and Madonna.

-All divorced.

Ben Ofuedo and Vanessa Feltz.

Alf, I love you.

Not in that way.

It's just...

you are a bit immature.

"You're a bit immature."

-Mm.

-Look, I am a grown-up. I do so many grown-up things.

I use coasters, I put my posters into frames.

I've got a bag-for-life.

Share my bag with me, Rosie.

Did that sound really desperate?

A little.

(Shit.)

Immature!

Hi, yeah, is that TGI Fridays?

Yeah, I want to cancel a table booked under the name of Wickers.

Well, obviously if I'm cancelling the table,

I also want to cancel the cake.

I can't. What's the point?

Sir?

Oh. History or something.

Oh, stop being such a pussy. It's just a girl.

-That's very perceptive.

-Oh, no, what I meant to say was,

stop being such a girl, it's only pussy!

Right.

I suppose you'll be looking for a rebound then, sir?

I feel so hurt. So upset.

It's like getting kicked in the balls with a football

to the power of Mufasa dying in Lion King.

-Ow!

-Snap out of it.

-Wow!

-You've got quite a slap.

-Well, you learn to defend yourself

when you're the only kid in the playground with a Sade ringtone.

-He's right, you need to man up!

-Ow!

Right, OK, enough with the slapping.

-Sorry, I just wanted to hit you.

-Hang on, guys,

-Mr Wickers may be a bit of a twat.

-Right...

Despite being a twat... Don't get me wrong, he's definitely a twat.

-OK, I think we get the picture.

-But if he don't mark that shit, he'll get fired,

then we could end up with a real teacher! We can say goodbye to class wars and hello to homework.

Screw that!

Oh, God, my parents might send me to one of them all girls' schools

where you're not allowed electric toothbrushes or door handles or anything.

Of course, Jing!

You guys can mark them.

We'll do the pass-to-the-left method! Why didn't I think of that?

Hooray for Jing! CHEERING

You're a joke.

Yeahhhhhhh! Woo!

A-ha, Alfie Wickers! The Wicker Man!

-Wickers World!

-What's going on here?

Just organising a post-workage meetage at the pubage,

Duke's Arms...age.

We're going to talk about the school's charity calendar. I want to make a speech at parents' evening

and the reason I've chosen this God-awful degenerative disease

-is that...

-I know all about Palmer's Syndrome.

-Really?

Yep.

Personal experience. Sadly.

Who?

-Joe's mum.

-What, really?

Yeah. Yeah, she got the old PS.

-Caught it on holiday.

-Caught it?

What I mean is, it caught up with her on holiday...obviously,

as Palmer's Syndrome isn't contagious.

It's er...idiopathic.

Which strand did she contract?

Both of them.

-Bo... Arthropathic and neuropathic?

-Yeah. Yeah.

-Oh, my God.

-Correct.

-God, so she had all of the symptoms?

-All of them.

-Which ones?

You know, the main ones.

S... Insomnia.

-Postural instability.

-Oh, that's nasty.

Um, the face thing, with the face...

-Face?

-Her fingers fell off.

Her fingers fell off?! I did not know that that was a symptom.

Yeah, it's not so much a symptom. It was, um, frostbite,

she got frostbite, cos she was looking for a cure in...

Iceland.

That's why mums shouldn't go to Iceland!

Anyway, I don't want to go on about it but, you know,

I do do an awful lot for him.

I mean, only this morning in class...

-No, I shouldn't say, it's silly.

-No, no, go on.

-He called me Daddy.

-Aw!

It's no biggy, you know.

I had no idea that Palmer's Syndrome meant so much to you, Alfie.

Why don't you join us?

It'd be lovely to have his input, wouldn't it, Fraser?

Well, I think it'd be better if we were just...

It would mean a lot.

-Who cares for the carers?

-Hey, we can all go. The more, the merrier.

-Thanks, Rosie.

-That's OK!

-Can I just talk to that student?

-Go get him.

Alfredo, good squire?

-Mmm?

-You wouldn't be cock-blocking me, would you, wingman?

No, no. Course not, wingman.

What I'm doing is demonstrating to her

how unsuitable I am

to highlight how great you are, Maverick.

Mmm. Thunking outside the box,

Goose.

Oh, BT-dubs, love the way you rock out with your croc out.

# Wretchro boy # You know we make examples

# We're history's booth # This is a future cut

# Unorthodox We call our own shots. #

Joe, I am going to need you to go ahead and hide in the cupboard.

OK...

Quick!

-Hey, sorry, just busy with...

-Sorry, Alfie, I was just thinking,

about Joe's mum, um...

Alfie, why are the kids sat like that?

Oh, we're learning about South Africa.

Right. Um...

I was thinking, I could really use Joe's mum in the campaign.

Really?

Is that a good idea?

It's a personal story, give the appeal resonance.

Shock people into action!

Yeah, but, you know...

-So can I just have a quick word with Joe?

-No.

Er, you can't, cos he was ill, so he went to the doctor.

Let's hope he hasn't got it as well.

-Oh, well, if you see him, just tell me, won't you?

-Will do.

-OK.

-< JOE:

-Can I come out now?

-What was that?

-What was what, sorry?

That voice from the cupboard.

Nelson Mandela.

Yeah. Robben Island.

Sorry, Mandy! 1989, one more year!

Crack on, you've got a book to write.

IMPERSONATES MANDELA: See you later.

Miss Gulliver is so buffting.

-Yeah, she's hot, man, like proper spice!

-No, she ain't!

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, Chantelle. Shakespeare.

Shakespeare, Jing, he was an English writer who wrote Romeo and Juliet.

and The King's Speech.

Hey!

So, you know the way I'm your favourite teacher in the whole world?

Well, I need a little favour from my favourite pupil.

-You are always asking me to do you favours.

-No, I'm not. Give me one.

Yesterday, at break,

when you made me go up to Conor Wilson and tell him that you were Banksy.

Look, all I need you to do this time, very simple,

is to pretend your mum has a potentially fatal, degenerative disease

so that Miss Gulliver goes on a date with me

and subsequently, at some point in the future, hopefully becomes my girlfriend.

OK.

# Free, free, free Nelson Mandela

# Free Nelson Mandela... #

HE COUGHS Oh, Miss Pickwell.

-See you, er, got the papers?

-Indeed.

Good. So, er, what were the results?

Oh, silly me.

All up here.

Whose do you want to know?

-Um, Mitchell?

-Fail.

-Remi?

-Fail.

-Stephen?

-Fail.

Fail, fail, fail, fail,

fail, fail, fail, fail. fail, fail, fail.

OK. Starting to see a bit of a pattern emerging here.

-Oh, what about Chantelle?

-Oh, let's see.

Oh, 100%.

"Could try harder to be less of a slag."

HE SNICKERS Classic.

You didn't mark their papers, Mr Wickers.

They did. And because of this, they all failed.

The trouble with you, Mr Wickers, is you're all fart and no poo.

Let me tell you this, when I fart...

..I follow through.

So, as Chantelle's mother

and...

father?

I-I...

Sorry, um, you're not actually allowed to smoke in here...

..or indeed any buildings these days.

Um, what it is, is that Chantelle has failed her mock exam.

I bet she done all right on her oral.

I teach history, we don't even do an...

Never mind.

Oh...

HE SQUEAKS

MUSIC: "Frisky" by Tinie Tempah

IMPERSONATES GONG SOUND

So before we get onto Jing, serious question.

How long until all the pets we have will be robots?

ROSIE GIGGLES

Oh... Struggling, Wickers?

I always find parents' evening a lot less stressful

if at least one of my children has passed.

That's the problem with you, Pickwell.

It's all about results and grades.

-My class have other talents.

-Right.

Stephen knows all the words to Steel Magnolias.

-Wow(!)

-That's like a three-hour film.

And Mitchell Harper can hold his breath for four minutes.

-Twice what I can do!

-Right.

And you remember Joe, the boy you wanted to exclude?

Well, he has got a birthmark that looks exactly like James May.

So you may not see much in my them,

but I believe in my class.

And for the record, they're not children, OK?

They are young adults.

Oh, shit!

Rem Dogg's dad's got a glass eye!

What a penis!

Alfie, I think this whole Miss Gulliver thing might've got out of hand.

-What happened?

-Well, she was asking me all these questions

and I just started panicking. And then...

Look, look, calm down, it's going to be fine.

-I told her my mum was dead.

-Oh, shit!

-Boo!

First a mahoo-ssive thank you for coming to parents' evening.

I know it can be difficult hearing how your sprogs are a little bit slow on the uptake.

And you're thinking, "Oh, God, why didn't I lay off the cider after the first scan?"

But it's important to remember that there are kids out there

less fortunate than your own.

So here to tell you a little bit about our fundraising venture

is the wonderful Miss Gulliver. Big hand, please.

-Shit, you have to stop her!

-How?

We are all going to die.

But what if I told you, madam,

that your child wasn't going to reach the age of 30?

Because that's the reality of Palmer's Syndrome.

It's a condition that affects one in six million.

IMPERSONATES BOB GELDOF: So give us all your fuckin' money now!

That is the message here. Now, if everyone wants to make their way through to the foyer,

there's a complimentary glass of red or white wine.

Let's get in before Ms Mollinson necks it all,

we all know what she's been like ever since her husband left her!

Alfie, not now.

So I would like to tell you a story about a brave woman

who this year lost her battle with Palmer's Syndrome.

A remarkable woman. Joe's mum.

Emma Poulter.

Hang on. Who?!

-Free booze!

-What's going on?

Some people find loss very hard to take.

Emma Poulter isn't dead.

Denial. First stage of grief.

I'm Emma Poulter.

Second stage, identity theft.

No, I am Emma Poulter!

CONFUSED MUTTERING

No, I am Emma Poulter!

Because in many ways we're all Emma Poulters,

because this disease can affect anyone.

I'm very much alive, and I haven't got Palmer's Syndrome.

Alfie? She...

You said that...

She's got ten massive fingers!

-Right, Wickers, my office now! Come on.

-Wait! Wait!

It's not his fault. I did it.

I just wanted to make Mr Wickers happy.

I just wanted to show off to him.

-He's the dad I never really had.

-Oh, my God...

-PARENTS:

-Aw!

But I'm your dad.

Oh, bollocks.

God, I really need a drink.

Yeah, well, let's go to the pubage.

-I haven't been out for a long time.

-Don't worry, I'll look after you.

I'm sorry, Alfie.

It's just all so cringe.

I failed again.

Look for the Volvo.

Do you want to go play Time Crisis and shove some dog shit

through Pickwell's letter box?

Yeah.

Let's do that again.

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd