Correction lessons

RobMc · March 8, 2023

As I’m getting on a bit I am beginning to forget spellings and some maths formula (needed to calculate my morning tablets), Timmah is constantly admonishing me about it. So having stopped in my public toilets last week, to see if he was posing in front of the mirror, a notice scrawled on the wall caught my eye.

‘Correction lessons given’, Bingo, just what the doctor ordered I thought, that should get me back on track. So once I got home I excitedly got on the ‘land line’ to book my first lesson, the lady that answered had a very gruff voice and was very offhand, but hey ho the strictest teachers at school were generally the best. I fondly remembered old Raphie Lowe and the way he used his cricket bat on your skull to the beat of the lesson, I’ve never forgotten my two times table, but hated cricket thereafter, mind you I remembered googlies, as mine were black and blue.

The neighbourhood her rooms were in was not the best, and some very strange looking women lurked behind twitching curtains, although to be fair I’m still a ‘looker’. I smiled when I pressed the doorbell and AC/DC’s Highway to Hell rang out, something we had in common I thought, I’ve got a doorbell too. ‘ENTER’ said this voice and I made my way down a dark corridor to a dim light at the end, must be an exam on I thought – but I was wrong.

Pushing open the door this figure towered over me, 6 foot 3 inches tall, 350 lbs, stilettos and fishnets, and stuffed into the tightest leather suit you’ve seen. ‘OK, cash only she said, what’s your choice, whip, cane, hand spanking, nappies or the rack?’, what kind of teacher was this and where had she graduated from?, I asked myself, times had certainly moved on with modern teaching methods.

‘Errr’ I stuttered, ‘I would like to improve my scrabble scores and check my change at the over 60’s’, this left her lost for words, but she quickly recovered with a right hook Tyson would have been proud of. As I picked myself up she snarled ‘that’s only starters, see what I have for desserts’, she looked crestfallen when I informed her I was a diabetic and would skip desserts. ‘Are you sure you’re at the right place’ she asked? I was beginning to have doubts myself, but plodded on.

‘Shall we use the Oxford dictionary’ I suggested, turning round she pulled a large book off the shelf and whacked me with the New Cambridge first edition, I lost consciousness. When I came round I was lying on a bed naked, chained to the bedpost, ‘let’s get a move on’ she said, ‘I’ve an MP and two Judges booked in this afternoon’. ‘I must say madam I didn’t like the spelling lesson but you appear to have an even stranger way of teaching Maths’.

‘What the hell are you talking about’ she said ‘Spelling and Maths?’ I specialise in pain – giving it, now lie still’

I should be out of hospital some time next week