Meet Simon, not a Mr or a Sir, but Simon, the biggest kid in Summerton school.
So he's young. What's wrong with that?
Our Simon isn't just young. He's infantile. He lives with his Dad, cycles without holding the handlebars, and on the night of his birthday breaks into Summerton school with a sheep.
Why? It's obvious. Because he's a total plonker. Simon also steals a bust of Shakespeare on his way out. That's the kind of thing total plonkers do. It's a great laddish escapade but it wastes police time and disrupts the process of education which is, actually, what schools are supposed to be there for.
You don't like this guy, do you?
We seem to be getting a glut of these unconventional teacher types. Robin Williams being all inspirational in Dead Poets Society was one thing, Colin Firth clowning around in his Arsenal boxer shorts was something else, but at least the kids in Fever Pitch did learn something. "Call me Simon", however, is not just unbelievable, he is unemployable too. What teacher would dare greet his class with the words "Well, scum ..." or follow a female colleague down the corridor with the words "Look at the buttocks on that one"?
But is he an inspiration to his class?
No. Our Simon prefers to get the kids all excited with exhortations to try and imagine what it would be like to be Shakespeare's characters. The one poor pupil who asks if they can actually study the text, like Mrs Page's class, gets mocked for being conscientious. The problem with teachers who tell you to call them Simon is that being popular is more important to them than a little thing we call education.
But he is popular?
The teacher unions can't stand Simon (or his series), but Pauline Young's mother fancies him and his class like the way they always get better marks when Simon's done his marking down the pub.
He does what?
You don't imagine our Simon would let pupil assessment get in the way of serious drinking time, do you?
I wouldn't let this idiot near any child of mine Which is what the makers of Teachers missed. While most of us have had the odd desire to praise a colleague's buttocks or go on a bender, Simon indulges these whims on a daily basis. It almost makes you grateful for school inspectors, doesn't it?