Dear Bex,

I’ve been covering 8A’s citizenship lessons for barely a week when the headteacher announces a visit from Bill Sherwood, the local Tory MP.

“We want to show we’re a school that values the teaching of politics,” she grins, as she ushers him into the classroom, oozing charm like a poison toad oozes wart juice.

“Well, that’ll be easy,” I reply. “I’ve been teaching them all about Parliament.”

“Yeah, Miss says they’re a bunch of glorified seat-warmers who get paid 60 grand to argue with a bloke in a wig,” chirps Paula Shaw, one of my chatty-but-cheeky ones.

“Er, that’s not exactly how I put it,” I cringe. “Mr Sherwood, perhaps you’d like to take a pew?”

He deposits himself at the back of the classroom, inscrutable as a stick insect. “Now can anyone tell Mr Sherwood what the main political parties are?”

“Well, there’s Labour ...”

“Very good Katie.”

“They’re the incompetent, corrupt, warmongering ones run by the bloke who looks like an angry badger.”

“Er, I don’t think I said that ...”

“Then there are the Conservatives. They’re the incompetent, corrupt, fat, ugly ones who steal milk from children and think Boris Johnson is a serious politician instead of a custard pie with a speech impediment.”

“Um, okay, I think we’ll leave it there.”

“Oh and also,” pipes up Mike, a sweet but stupid slip of a thing. “There’s the Liberal Democrats. But we don’t need to learn about them, do we Miss, because they stand even less of a chance of winning an election than the Tories.”

“Uh right,” I say, doing my best to fill the cavernous silence. “And what did we learn about what politicians do? What are they likely to find on their desks when they come in in the morning?”

Paula’s hand shoots up.

“Yes Paula?”

“Their secretaries?”

“Um, I think it’s time we brought this lesson to a close.”

“Honestly,” I whisper to the MP as we hustle him out of the door. “I’ve no idea where they get this stuff from.”

Love Kate x.