What they're all doing wrong

I hope all teachers employed in the schools of our 'leafy suburbs, rural market towns and seaside resorts' are reflecting mightily on their worthlessness today, as demanded by the law of our Failure Finding General, the Schools Inspector Sir Michael Wilshaw.

Fortunately, he pops up on Radio 4 to help parents root them out, these dreadful teachers, warning the nation's mamas and papas - as they package up Tinkertop to get her pronto to Bash Street Juniors - that some of these useless members of school staff 'don't know what good is'. See? Some of these teachers you have so far relied upon in loco parentis have never seen good!

Thankfully, the government will save you all; they have strategies from their Olympian height of wisdom and central school planning. Send in good teachers by parachute. Make sure you clear the school playground of children, and keep your eyes open for the helicopters.

These highly paid fixers will come and show up these failures for what they are. Then they will deliver what is government certified as good.

I'm sure this will be greatly reassuring to all parents and the bad, bad, failing teachers. My bet is, the failures include that old stock of mature women in their mid-50s who have worked at the same school for 25 years; welcomed the kids of parents they remember teaching as kids themselves; who talk about their jobs in terms of local community, and who see their role as bringing warmth, encouragement and enjoyment to a child's school day (as far as ever possible while under the cosh). But, as all hard-working parents know, such meagre local ambition must be removed for the sake of UK global good.

Parents, this morning and every school morning, you can do your duty towards the great Wilshaw-Gove enterprise.

Simply remove all trust from your child's classroom teacher. Look suspiciously upon her. Those spectacles she wears are a sign of her degeneracy and show she is secretly bent on damaging your child in her care. Greet her in as frosty a manner as possible. Ask questions to trip her, then make much of her stumbling. Strive to make her feel worthless and guilty.

You may, if you are properly onboard this global race for public achievement, quietly consider how she can self criticise, a goal you may be able to assist in, if you stand her on a platform, hang a name-and-shame board about her neck and pour ink over her head.

Right. Got that out my miserable soul.

Did something far more positive, which made me feel joyous to be out the clutches of Wilshaw and sorry for all of you who are almost daily scarred by the scaly claws of good.

Took Tiger, Squirrel and Shark to a willow-weave and storytelling performance, organised by the wildlife watch team, all of whom bring fun, warmth, and gentle enjoyment to everything they offer. Lovely, and local. Which in my opinion, is not a bad ambition.