You only need a little bit of Gentlemen’s Spice for a rise…
“Get your lips tighter around it, you’re dribbling.”
This was the third time in the space of ten minutes I had to draw attention to Miss Rotterlicks’ technique. She looked up to me with those bugged eyes of hers, blessed with all the grace of a grasshopper. As she always did in these scenarios, she began to go faster.
I slammed my baton down on the pedestal. Christ! I curse the day I ever began teaching music at the Rotherham Girls’ Finishing School. For the last two years, I had taught at a private girls’ school in the foothills of the Swiss Alps, surrounded by beauty as we bathed in the delights of Chopin. But, there was an unfortunate misunderstanding. You must see, I was only massaging the young girl’s bare thigh to help her accommodate the cello better. Since then, this was the only school that would take me on.
Where once I had been surrounded by the delicate creatures of Europe’s aristocratic elite, I now found myself amidst the far-from-darling offspring of the city of Sheffield’s steel elite – all three of them. There was a fourth, but she was removed by her father after he misheard me talking about wanting to get my legato.
It was Saturday, the worst day in my now miserable existence, because I had the angels of death for a full four hours. They arrive at 10am, dropped off by their fathers, who constantly try and give me the horn – do they not know there is more to music than the brass band?
The girls below me stared as I got my baton up. Miss Rotterlicks sits in the middle with her clarinet – how she has turned playing this fine instrument into a sideshow at the Moulin Rouge, I do not know. To her right is the large round Miss Lumpington and her double bass – sometimes I have to do a double-take to remind myself which one is made of wood. Finally, on the left, is Miss Teakles, who handles the violin with the grace of a miner attacking the strongest material known to man.
They all constantly fight to be on top, but usually Miss Lumpington’s heavy plucking wins out. I did once volunteer to spend some extra time with her, to lighten her fingering. But this was met with a black eye from her father, when I explained I wanted to work on his daughter’s crotchet.
Sigh… I brought my baton halfway down and gave it a flick, and Miss Rotterlicks resumed her practice of pleasuring the British Navy. With my left hand, I waved in Miss Teakles who fiddled up, then down, then up, down, up, down, and – surprise! Teakles’ all over the place. Which is the cue for Miss Lumpington to come in with her coma-inducing plucking.
Slurp, clump, clump plunk, slurp, clump, plunk…
“Girls, Triad! You’ve got to be together on this.“
“We’re trying as hard as we can, sir.”
Do you see? Do you see what I have to put up with?
“Softer, girls, this is Scheidt.”
“I don’t think that’s very fair, sir.“
Is it any wonder I spend my day constantly pissed?
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Tags: 1880's, 1888, crotchet, England, Europe, Legato, Miss Lumpington, Miss Rotterlicks, Miss Teakles, Music, Orchestra, Rotherham, Scheidt, school, Teacher, Triad, Yorkshire
No wonder at all. This was another fun one!
What an intro! Hahaha. Er. Ahem. Sorry.
Your language throughout was so, so, well you know.
Entertaining!
Those schmucky music teachers… get what they deserve. Excellent fun. Peace, Linda
Good old tongue-in-cheek, Northern filth! I enjoyed it just as well the 2nd time around!
Marvellous, old boy! I liked the slurping and plucking in this, especially.
I think my wife might have been a student there…
The school has had its knockers in the past, but that’s all past it now
delicious fun as per
marc
Great work sir and rest assured that somewhere in Heaven Benny Hill is smiling over this!
The entendre worked and you carried it well throughout this piece. If the girls were a little older, I think I would have laughed as loud as everyone else, but this did make me slightly uncomfortable. The names were clever and I have a feeling work even better if you read this one aloud.
That was just brilliant. I laughed out loud at the end. Superb!
Excellent story! Had me chuckling the whole way through.
Loved hearing this read aloud on Wednesday and laughed out loud again reading it. Hilarious British humour in the finest benny hill / carry on style!
I always leave your stories smirking…this is no exception. Funny stuff, especially the names.
Just are just a master of using suggestive language to lead people off a cliff. The beginning is another example of how funny you can be.
Even more hilarious the second time around!
Hilarious opening and your play on words brilliant!
very amusing – had me chuckling. very very well done!
Brilliant Chance, as usual. I love the names you used in this piece, and of course your use of language is simply hilarious, (in a good way). Thanks for a fun read!
That was so much fun. The word choices throughout were great! And I loved the girls’ names too.
HA! I didn’t know what to expect, so I’m reading along, all innocent, wearing my little red cape, and all of a sudden I sense there is something amiss — that wasn’t a dirty bit, back there, was it? Oh no, it wouldn’t be… and I flung my cape (because that’s what you do with capes) and carried on — and, oh, my, that was, um, a little potty, too, was it? Could it be? And then I realized it was just ALL dirty bits, hiding behind the forest of musical academia… I threw down my picnic basket and ran — ran! screaming and giggling! Aren’t you just the wolf in Chopin’s clothing!
So entertaining and lost of fun, very nice!
That, sir, certainly wasn’t ‘Scheidt’! Another corker!
That was a great, fun read! Well-written with twisty fun words!!
Heh .. I might have to shower before my morning coffee. I feel a little dirty.
I loved your play on words & the names of the students. Minus the ahem, misunderstandings, it reminded me of my band director’s tantrums & fits when I was in school.
Hilarious! Excellent word play. I’ll be giggling for the rest of the day.
Daft as ‘owt. Even funnier second time round!