To Sir, with Love Page #4

You continue to astonish me,

old chum.

I should've thought

if anyone took a point...

Now what?

Miss Pegg wants to know

if the netball's fixed.

Miss who?

Barbara Pegg.

Miss Pegg, Sir.

Here you are, Fernman.

Thank you, Sir.

What's going on in

this classroom of yours?

Suburban formality? It's a bit

foreign in this neck of the woods.

Some sort of experiment

in culture for the masses?

It's an elementary

experiment in courtesy.

And do we ignorant critters

have to follow suit?

- Please yourself.

- Thank goodness for that!

Do you object to being

taught manners by the boys?

I won't to be taught

by those morons.

So long as we learn,

it doesn't matter who teaches us.

Good afternoon, everybody.

Now we're talking.

Nothing like payday.

By the way, your museum visit

has been approved.

If things go wrong,

the school suffers.

Nothing will go wrong, Sir.

For a moment, I thought

I was in the wrong classroom.

Where's Jackson?

We don't know.

Tich wouldn't miss this

unless he was sick or something.

We'll give him a few minutes.

It's me, Jackson.

I have to take the wash for mum.

Can you wait?

Sure.

How long will it take?

Half a mo.

Just up the frog.

God love you.

Hang on, Tich.

I'll give you a hand.

All right.

Back on the sidewalk.

What's a frog got to do with it?

It's rhyming slang.

Old-fashioned cockney.

It's only used by old people now.

It's a drag, Sir.

Frog means road.

Frog and toad, road.

Trouble, strife, wife.

Weeping willow, pillow.

The first word.

Like the old currant bun,

that's the sun.

- Apples and pears, stairs.

- Happy kill, skill.

Ginger beer, queer.

All aboard.

I think he fancies her.

I know you do.

Pamela has a crush on you.

Women say the damnedest things.

I think he's nice.

So do I.

You've noticed.

I treat her as I do

the other girls.

I hope we can go out again,

don't you?

I hope so.

I hope we can go with him,

because he's nice.

Don't be mistaken...

...Pamela's a woman

in every sense of the word.

I mean...

...not that I blame her.

Bleeding rotten taste he's got.

Good night, Sir.

- See you tomorrow.

- Good night.

Perhaps I could tidy your desk.

- That's all right.

- It's no trouble.

You should get a flat nearby.

Brentwood's much too far away.

- There's nice ones around.

- I've thought of it.

I tell you what.

I'll keep my ears open for you.

That's kind of you,

but I'm fine.

I'll let you know.

Thank you.

Don't worry about your desk.

I'll tidy it for you every day.

Thanks, but that won't be necessary.

That's perfectly all right.

A woman's work is never done.

Good night, Sir.

Hi, fellas. How are you?

Good morning, Sir.

Mr. Florian has given us

permission for more outings.

I'd like to hear suggestions

of what we might do.

- The pictures.

- Wembley, Sir.

Cup Final Day.

Chamber of Horrors.

What about the Cavern?

You know, Liverpool.

The Beatles.

How's it going?

Fine, thank you.

He'll come with me on my day.

- You're under a supervision order too?

- That's nothing, Sir.

Most of us have broken the law.

Breaking windows, truancy,

raising hell and cussing the coppers.

You've cut yourself.

You'd better put something on that.

You'll get lockjaw.

Blimey!

Red blood.

What do you expect, pinhead?

Ink?

I didn't mean no harm.

It was a joke.

I didn't mean no crack, Sir.

It's all right.

What's with you?

Are you addressing me, Denham?

Potts was only being funny.

What you calling him pinhead for

in front of chimney sweep?

I was only joking.

Sir didn't mind.

He said, ask anything.

You call those questions?

Always on about his colour.

You're wasting our time.

Seales, you ought to know better.

What've I done?

I said nothing.

You never do,

and you're half-coloured.

You quietly sit on your ass.

If they wanna know,

why don't they ask you?

I'm not Sir, that's why.

I only wish I was.

I know what's eating you.

You fancy him, that's what.

This is a fine how-do-you-do,

isn't it, Potts?

You lay off, Denham,

you son of a b*tch.

Today, I'm gonna show you

how to make salad.

You mean we've to cook and all?

Sure, why not?

My old man never cooked in his life.

He says that's women's work,

the kitchen and all.

But suppose you're on your own,

as you certainly will be shortly.

You'll have to do it for yourself

sometimes, won't you?

Not again, Sir.

This is survival training.

A normal English salad...

...not fit for human consumption,

even if you remove the slugs...

...and add a dash of the extraordinary,

a bit of mayonnaise.

Look at this.

Sorry I'm late.

Mum's at the doctor.

I didn't want to miss today.

He won't be trouble.

It's all right.

Sit down.

Make room over there for her.

Okay, come on.

Never be afraid to experiment.

And remember that you can eat well...

...even though you're broke.

See?

You ever been broke, Sir?

Real broke, skint?

Many, many times.

I don't understand you a bit, Sir.

I mean...

...you're a toff and you ain't.

What he means is...

Blimey, I can't sort of put it

into words or anything.

Well, Sir...

...you're like us, but you ain't.

I mean, you're not.

It's kind of scary but nice.

You know what I mean, don't you?

I don't know how to answer you,

except to say I teach you my truths.

It is kind of scary,

dealing with the truth.

Scary and dangerous.

Have you ever had a salad

with almonds and grapes...

...and tomatoes and lettuce

and pineapple?

She's in love with you, Mark.

You shouldn't be so surprised.

We have marvelous schools now

in the East End.

It's still difficult

to get quality teachers.

Take us,

the bottom of the pile.

Goodness knows we've had

a scruffy lot here.

Then along comes

Mr. Mark Thackeray...

...big, broad, handsome,

clean, intelligent...

...looking like

he stepped out of a bandbox.

What do you expect?

What do I do?

Nothing. Just be patient.

Thanks.

Pamela's just finding out

she's a grown woman.

You're probably the only real man

she's ever met in her life.

Don't spend too much time

alone with her.

Why didn't you ask Gillian?

I thought you'd be wiser.

Thanks.

Hello, Sir!

We can't have you queuing up.

It's Sir. He teaches

our Moira up at North Quay.

He's only got an hour for his lunch.

- What'll it be?

- Half a dozen oranges.

You'll like them.

They're lovely.

Here you are, Guv.

Penny's wedding cake.

Jeannie's older sister.

She got married,

so here's a bit of cake.

Jeannie Clark.

Yes, Miss Clark.

That was a lovely museum outing.

Will they do it again?

We're trying to arrange one a week.

That'd be lovely, won't it?

The more education, the better.

That's what I always say.

It's a proper bleeder,

what with the bomb and all.

Ain't the bombs.

It's them bleeding Yanks!

Shut your gob!

My Gert's married to a Yank.

And a proper nice gent he is and all.

Keep your opinions to yourself!

God all bloody mighty!

The entente cordiale?

Cast the mote out of your eye

before you cast the bomb out of mine!

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