Silly Season

I saw a tweet yesterday where a journalist was claiming that silly season had come early. Silly season is meant to be in August when all the politicians are sailing around the Greek islands on their million pound yachts with Robert Maxwell (oh wait, is he dead?), leaving the journalists who can't afford a wet week in Bognor Regis to fill pages with other stuff. Local papers are always a rich source of silly season material (which is why I love them so much) There are stories about Seagulls being misunderstood in the Brighton Argus, raccoons stealing cereal bars in Northampton and memorial services for a sheep called Nick Boing in the local Welsh press.

Nick Boing

Silly season could have come early because the politicians aren't saying anything we want to hear. Sensible reporters will be on the lookout for a good animal story or a sex scandal to fill their pages. My daughter's paper had a flasher visit their offices the other day, pleasuring himself with their paper. They don't even need to pick up the phone, never mind leave the office!

Silly season in the school staff room is always at this time of year. Reports are finally ready to go, SATs results are due, leavers shows and services are being practised, children are more bonkers than usual, sex ed has been squeezed in (yes, the boys are looking a little pale and shocked: "You mean I've got to...chase her around the bedroom with a feather?") and the funny staff room conversations about time tabling the videos have happened ("We can't have it in the morning." "I don't know, sometimes morning sex is good."). Teachers have gone past tired and because the end is in sight they are a bit giggly, bordering on the hysterical. There is a little more time for staff to gather and sit. Because so many have done other things in their life the conversations can be varied. They might have been triggered by something that happened in class but they can spiral off into so many different directions.

"Did you know that sheep can't fart?"
"What?"
"Yes, they just blow up."
"Exploding sheep? Why didn't I know that."
"No, not like kaboom, more like poof." The teacher makes an expanding round shape with her hands.
The other staff imagine huge round sheep like space hoppers.
"What happens to them then?" Teachers like to ask questions.
"They have to be popped," says the member of staff who used to be a veterinary nurse, acting out sticking a sharp object forcefully into the belly of a sheep.
"Farmers must carry pins around in their pockets just in case."
"If they don't explode then maybe they make that noise like a let-go balloon."
"And go whizzing off around the field."
"Maybe into the sky."
"Well yes, of course. That's how we get clouds."

Mascara was running, middle aged teachers were laughing so hard they had to cross their legs and they all agreed that silly season is well and truly with us.