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SO WHAT
are we to make of a girl
who has calculated the
average time her English
teacher takes in the
toilet? (Six minutes,
for those keeping
notes.) It’s hardly
normal behaviour, is it?
The gloriously off-beat
opening to this episode
adds a bizarre twist to
the unashamedly complex
Lynda/Sullivan dynamic
unveiled here.
True enough, there is no
Spike/Lynda action in
this episode, but since
Sullivan has such a key
role to play in Lynda’s
development, it is
important some time is
devoted to learning how
they interact.
It’s fascinating to see
the lines blurring
between teacher and
pupil, although one of
the functions of this
episode is surely to
remind us that Lynda is
still at school, and has
homework like everyone
else.
In the
newsroom, Frazz is
playing out a twisted
version of Monty
Python’s Spanish
Inquisition sketch to
the new recruits.
But really we should be
asking ourselves why it
falls to Frazz to
provide the induction
talk?!?
Colin
launches CME’s first
project with amazing
inventiveness, although
it’s interesting to note
that the motivation for
his blistering marketing
campaign derives from
Lynda’s threats rather
than any considered
business plan for making
cash from his
bargain-basement
purchases. Securing the
deal was the
important thing here for
Colin, blinding him to
all else.
Tiddler
makes her debut,
displaying an alarming
amount of
self-confidence for one
so small. There’s a real
joy in her first
exchange with Lynda, who
clearly recognises that
futility of arguing with
someone hatched from the
same podlet as herself.
And later, even in
long-shot, there is a
gleeful satisfaction
when she passes on the
“not bad” judgment.
It is a great shame that
Tiddler never realised
her full potential.
Julie
attempts to contribute
something other than
graphics to the paper –
and a good job too,
since judging by what we
see of her artistic
skills, she’s not
playing to her
strengths. As she
proudly unfurls the
“pong” poster for Colin,
his nostrils flare
alarmingly. No words
required.
Back at
school, notable mention
must go to David
Collings’ cameo as
headmaster Mr Winters.
It’s pretty damn cool
that character actors of
his calibre will show up
for a non-speaking part,
although of course he
does get more to do
later in the series. In
the classroom, it’s the
spotty oiks imported from
Grange Hill that seem to
be causing all the
problems, but Spike and
Frazz team up to
terrorise the little
ones in the name of fair
play.
One
continuity point I
spotted – both Danny and
Sarah appear to refer to
the school secretary as
Miss Jessop, even though
she’s clearly credited
as Miss Hessope. Perhaps
it’s just their lousy
Norbridge diction.
As this
is the first issue-led
episode, it is perhaps
inevitable that the best
bits are the window
dressing and not the
message. Adrian
Edmonson is inspired
casting here though,
bringing an incidental
frisson to the
proceedings. After
all, this is a man who
had created a career
from rampant anarchic
violence presented in
the name of
entertainment. How
can we help but wonder
if he will at any moment
transmogrify into Vyvyan
Basterd and smash some
sense into the little
brats with the
assistance of a breeze
block nailed to a
cricket bat?
But alas,
it is not to be.
Mild-mannered Simon
Knowles ably presents
the human face of
teaching and delivers a
tutorial in the power of
self-confidence.
One imagines that this
is marvellous
entertainment for any
teachers watching, all
nodding sagely to
themselves at the wisdom
of the lesson, but I
can’t help thinking that
perhaps your average
CITV viewer might have
learned more from the
cricket bat.
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SM.net
