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My Daddy Is A....

At Cherryvalley High, meanwhile, Miss Fotheringill is asking the good little boys and girls of first year what their fathers do, so that the headmistress can mark out the future prefects. 'My daddy is a judge, Miss Fotheringill, says little Samantha, brushing back the royal blue bow which holds her mane of freshly-washed blonde locks.
'Very good, Samantha dear,' says Miss Fotheringill, placing a discreet tick beside little Samantha's name in her big black book before moving on to the desk of little Roland.
'My daddy's a consultant surgeon, Miss Fotheringill,' says little Roland, his big blue eyes filled with the innocence of freshly clipped church lawns.
'That's very nice, Roland dear,' says Miss Fotheringill, marking little Roland down as a future head boy and moving on to the desk of little Jimmy, whose father is a bookmaker. Miss Fotheringill does not know this, but the tattoo of a swallow flitting across little Jimmy's neck has already drawn her to the conclusion that little Jimmy is definitely not future officer material.
'My da's dead,' lies little Jimmy.
'Oh dear,' says Miss Fotheringill, overcome with remorse for her unkind thoughts about the poor lad. 'And what did he do before he died, little James?'
'He grabbed his throat and went "Aaaarrrrggghhhh", Miss.'


 
 


 
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