Academy status, Hypocritical Cant

The Dashing Escapades of Lord Gove

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The sun beat down on them fiercely as they traversed the sands of the Umbongo Bongo. Lord Gove loosened his cravat mopping his pallid brow with it. They had been travelling across this vast fiery furnace for almost a month and in that time there had been few signs of life. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere they spied something glimmering in the distance. Was it? Could it possibly be?

Lord Gove straightened his head dress, he tightened his sweat stained cravat. Straining forwards on his camel and tightening the reins he urged the beast forwards whipping his flanks with a copy of the amended history curriculum.
“C’mon Mickey!” he yelled, “We’re almost there!”
“Where?”
“C’mon Mickey! Y’allah! Y’allah!”
Michael Wilshaw rolled his eyes, three weeks three bloody weeks stranded in Umbongo Bongo with this bloody man. Gove’s swivel-eyed enthusiasm for this expedition was getting on his wick, (the bloody man couldn’t even get his name right).
“Can you see it?”
“Yes” Wilshaw sighed, “I can see it, what is it?”

A blinding white, phallic shaped structure lay shimmering on the horizon,the sight of it made Wilshaw’s heart sink. Glancing furtively at Gove he couldn’t help but notice the fervent glint in his eyes, the florid features deranged by excessive enthusiasm, Wilshaw’s misgivings deepened.
Finally they halted, half a yard from the arched entrance to the building. Melodious voices chanting enthusiastically echoed within, Wilshaw attempted to read the sign that hung over the entrance (his Arabic had never been all that good), no! It couldn’t be! “My God man! What have you done?! Have you gone mad?”
“Mad? Mad you say? Not I! Welcome to the latest DfE innovation! Schools of a religious character! The first ever English, state sponsored, anti-Assad, Al-Qaeda Academy!”
Wilshaw blanched, was this the school he had travelled half way around the world to inspect? What was he thinking?
“But you can’t do this! This is taxpayer’s money!”
Lord Gove rolled his eyes, slipping nimbly off his camel he strode purposefully toward his new flagship Syrian Trainee Insurrectionist’s School. But it didn’t take him long to realise he was treading a lone path, Mickey Wilshaw had fainted.
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