Saturday, July 14, 2007

Today I would like to talk about kittens and illicit schoolgirl sex.

I have just returned from seeing Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and I have to say I was very struck by the portrayal of fearsome Headmistress Dolores Umbridge and her wall of animated mewing, purring kittens on plates.


Headmistress Dolores Umbridge and her evil lolcat saucers

Dolores Umbridge somewhat reminds me of my own old headmistress at the girls school I attended. I will call her Vera Duffle.

Behind her brooches and her pink cashmere twinsets she was quite a fearsome woman, with a strict moral code. When she spoke to us at morning school assemblies she would invariably address one of the three subjects closest to her heart : the moral evils of littering ("it is a slippery moral slope, girls!"), the dizzz-graceful behaviour of our girls in the local shopping precinct after school while still in their uniforms; and our God and saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ (it was reputed that she had no less than 9 Bibles on prominent display in her office.)

But while Mrs Duffle was undoubtedly an asexual middle-aged prude and devout Christian, there was definitely something a little bit perverted about her. I know that sounds odd, so I'll explain why in the following story from the year when I was 15:

Another Story

My rather tall and beautiful best friend in choir (let's call her "Elle") had an affair with one of our middle-aged male teachers (let's call him "Mr N").

It was all top secret, of course, but as Elle's friend and confidante I got to eat the boxes of chocolate he gave her (she didn't like chocolate but didn't have the heart to tell him) and snigger at the soppy cards they came with. Choir rehearsals were great fun, because between songs Elle would whisper in my ear all the latest exciting details - the groping in the hall cupboard, the discreet hand up the skirt when she was called to the teacher's desk during class, and the hanky panky in the shower at his house.

To make matters all the more exciting, my friend's father was a church minister and she was regarded as a model of virtue and piety for all the other girls at church. To make matters even more and more exciting, Mr N was doing all this behind the back of his gay male partner and inviting Elle around for illicit rumpy pumpy while said partner was out of the house.

Occasionally Elle and Mr N. argued, and he'd give her a bad mark (which we though was thoroughly unsporting of him), but on the whole she seemed to be having a rollicking good time.

....until the lunchtime when she drove his car out of the school parking lot and into a Porsche.

Well anyway one thing led to another, and the teacher ended up in Mrs Duffle's office being interrogated about this affair with his fifteen year old student. And of course, I know exactly how this interrogation went, because Mr N. told Elle, and Elle told me the next day during choir practice.

Mrs Duffle:
"Did you touch that girl?"

Mr N.:
"Ah...yes, well I suppose I did."

Mrs Duffle:
"Wheaah did you touch the girl?"

Mr N.
"You want me to tell you, um, where exactly I touched Elle, you mean, on her body?"

Mrs Duffle:
"Yes, I want you to tell me exactly wheeah you touched that girl!"

Mr N.
"Well, I actually feel that details like that are, well... really rather none of your business. "

Mrs Duffle:
"None of my business? How daaare you! I am responsible for these girls, and anything that happens on school grounds is my business. Now wheeah did you touch that girl?"

and so on and so forth.

So Elle and I concluded, in strained whispers between phrases from the Penderecki song cycle or whatever we were rehearsing at the time, that Mrs Duffle was a right old pervy bitch.

"She wanted to know where he used to touch you? Ew, how disgusting. What a dirty old perve she is.."

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