goofballLondon

SB is back to school following the Christmas break. I am not sleeping much at the moment, which has allowed for a lot of time to ponder some of the deeper questions of life. e.g. What about suffering?, and, Where the f is my next job going to come from?

I'm doing a lot of thought consolidation and analysis in the wake of the various devastating practical situations we find ourselves in the middle of right now. Some of my recent thoughts have been concerned with the material being taught to the innocent children here in London, and I present my findings for your education and warning.

Many of the textbooks appear to be standard fair of an agreeable nature. These include Sixty Sizzling Songz, Traditional Scottish Songs and Music, and Junior Songscape Stage and Screen.

Descending another layer we find some titles that start to cause a slight creasing of the forehead. These include:

Three Rapping Rats - not sure about the whole London rat association, but... I'm prepared to give the benefit of the doubt...
The Perfect Blend - definitely a worrying image gracing the cover for this one, but again - perhaps just a slightly misguided aesthetic...

Further into the stack, we come across some of the most worrying material. A prime example is to be seen in Okki-tokki-unga Action Songs for chilren:

This book, which could be dismissed as an example of simple silliness, becomes more alarming upon reading some of the lyrics. Songs such as:

"Put your finger on your head, Tell me, is it green or red?"
"Knicky, knacky, knocky, noo, That's what they taught me, When I went to school."
and "Let's all play at Indians"

quickly convince the casual reader that serious illegal drugs were required in the preparation of this material.

The intended affect upon the poor pupils is made only too obvious:

However, nothing can prepare the sober adult for the most shocking example of blatantly psychotic teaching material: Music with Mr Plinkerton.

There is no way this book should have reached publication. Sensitive readers may wish to skip this next image.

Mr. Plinkerton himself turns out to be equally disturbing, with his plump round body and "note stem / exhaust pipe":

What sounds can you hear Mr. Plinkerton? Presumably the screaming of children caught in THE NIGHTMARE HALLUCINATION FROM WHICH YOU WERE CONCEIVED.

There are many rhymes this poor young girl could be caught up in, none of which I wish to speculate about. Instead, I will close this book, and go to bed after making sure to lock the door and praying for peace of mind while I sleep.