by Paul Gamble
Trudy was about the same height as Jack and was in the same year. She had fair hair, which would have been shoulder length if she didn’t always have it pulled back into a tight ponytail. Half a dozen strands of hair at the front were dyed red and had a tendency to fall across her face, obscuring her dark blue eyes.
But Jack wasn’t worried about how she looked. He was worried about her reputation. A reputation that had led her to gain the nickname “Moody Trudy.” In Trudy’s first year at the school she had already broken several records for detentions, general tellings-off, and suspensions.
What made Trudy really terrifying was that she did all this completely by herself. Most of the bad kids hung around in gangs. By themselves they would have been too scared to break the rules. But nothing seemed to scare Trudy. She didn’t break rules. She shattered them into little, tiny pieces, jumped on the pieces, and then dropped them around a “no littering” sign. Quite possibly hoping that a passing squirrel would try and eat a piece of the rules and then choke.
Jack looked at Trudy and smiled. “Sorry about David; he’s just…”
Trudy said nothing. She just stared.
“We’ll just be…”
Trudy continued staring.
Jack noticed that a group of kids from his class were walking past and heading into the assembly hall. This was very confusing. Assembly should already have been over. It wasn’t that Jack stopped being afraid of Trudy at that moment. It was just that his sense of curiosity needed to know what was going on. If curiosity had been an airborne virus, any cats within a five-hundred-foot radius of Jack would have dropped dead.
“Why is everyone going into the hall?” asked Jack. “Shouldn’t assembly be over for the day?”
Trudy stopped staring and snorted. “They’re having a special assembly,” she snapped. “Some stupid company coming to sponsor the school or something. Give us free stuff.”
Trudy’s fists were curling into balls. If Jack had been a normal boy, he would have thanked Trudy for her time, wished her well in future endeavors, and run away in the opposite direction. However, his curiosity gland was pumping madly.15
“Why would you be angry about someone giving us stuff? Isn’t it good getting stuff?”
Trudy spoke through gritted teeth. “We have P.E. this morning. I was going to use the assembly hall for my gymnastics.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jack had heard about Trudy’s gymnastic ability. When they had first started at the school people were amazed at her ability to tumble, somersault, and spring. There had been talk about her joining one of the senior gymnastics teams. She had been so good that a shelf of the trophy cabinet had been cleared out and dusted down in anticipation of the medals she would win.
But although Trudy was great at individual gymnastics, teamwork clearly wasn’t her forte. Trudy’s ability to work as part of a team was somewhat compromised by the fact that she didn’t talk about clothes, boys, and bands all the time. Millicent, the leader of the popular girls, had sensed weakness in Trudy and had made fun of her mercilessly.
Then one day, when Trudy was meant to catch Millicent coming out of a back flip, she had just wandered away. “There was no one to catch Millicent,” the P.E. teacher had screeched at her.
Trudy had shrugged. “The floor caught her, didn’t it?”
The floor had caught Millicent, but it had been less than gentle in its approach. Millicent walked with a distinct limp for several weeks afterward. She never made fun of Trudy again and Trudy was asked to leave the team.
There had been a suggestion that Trudy should be allowed to stay on the team for the sake of school pride and the medals she would generate. However, one of the math teachers had put together a spreadsheet estimating what Trudy’s presence would cost in sprain liniment, bandages, and increased personal-injury insurance premiums. The numbers didn’t lie, and Trudy left the team. She was still allowed to practice gymnastics, but only by herself, in the school hall, away from the other pupils.
Almost everyone in the school was terrified of Trudy. Jack was too, but part of him still wanted to ask Trudy why she was angry all the time. Jack looked at her and thought about asking the question.
From his tortoiselike position on the ground David glanced up and saw the look in his friend’s eyes. David had known Jack long enough that he knew when he was going to ask a question that would get them both into trouble. David sprang to his feet in the same way that a tortoise would if you fitted it with a pogo stick.16 “We’d better get into the assembly,” he said while grabbing Jack’s arm and pulling him away from Trudy.
Trudy shook her head and walked away.
* * *
MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK
TORTOISES
THE MYTH OF THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE
Although Aesop claimed that the hare lost the race with the tortoise, he didn’t actually tell the whole story. There were, in fact, two races. In the first race the hare said that he would race the tortoise to any location the tortoise chose.
“Then let’s race to my house,” said Mr. Tortoise. He quickly pulled his head and legs inside his shell. “I win!” he yelled triumphantly.
On the second occasion the hare insisted that the location they would race to should be an actual physical location. The tortoise took the hare up a long, winding mountain path.
“Now I will race you to the bottom of the mountain.”
The hare dashed into a lead as he ran round and round the mountain, along the twisting path.
The tortoise went to the side of the mountain, tucked himself inside his shell once more, and launched himself straight downward. Naturally the gravity-assisted tortoise made it to the bottom of the mountain much quicker than the hare managed using the circular mountain path.
Unfortunately, at the bottom the tortoise, neatly tucked in his shell, had gained so much speed and energy that he accidentally crashed into a badger, fatally injuring it.
* * *
The reason Aesop never told this story was that the moral he wanted to illustrate was “Slow and steady wins the race.”
The real story would only have been useful if the moral he had wanted to illustrate had been “Sometimes when you try really hard to win a race a badger is going to die.”
And that isn’t as universally useful a moral.
The moral of this section of the handbook is that if you want to write a series of moral tales to instruct children, you’re going to end up telling a lot of lies. A lot of lies.
* * *
6
CHAPEAU NOIR ENTERPRISES
Jack and David sneaked quietly into the assembly hall and squeezed into two seats in the back row. The headmaster was just finishing talking.
“… So after last week’s accident in chemistry class, all sixth formers will be required to attend a seminar dedicated to explaining that the words flammable and inflammable mean the same thing. But that was not why I have asked you here today. Rather I wish to introduce a very special person to you all. Our new school sponsor…”
“How do you sponsor a school?” David asked Jack. “Is the building going to go on a walk to raise money for charity?”
Jack elbowed David in the ribs to stop him from speaking.
The headmaster continued. “… So without further ado, I will introduce you to Mr. Teach from Chapeau Noir Enterprises.”
A man with a sinister beard walked onto the stage.
Beards were one of those things that Jack had spent much time thinking about. Jack had a theory about beards. A beard wasn’t an indicator of evil in itself, but it was if you shaved it into neat shapes. The simple proof of this was that babies were the most innocent of all creatures on earth. Babies rarely had beards. And if they did, people were rightly suspicious of them.
A full beard that wasn’t shaved, trimmed, or sculpted in any way could be all right. Santa Claus had a full beard and he was a nice man. But the more that you shaved or sculpted a beard, clearly the more evil you
became. When you saw drawings of devils and demons, they always had goatees. And the most evil people on earth, dictators like Saddam Hussein and Adolf Hitler, had shaved their beards down to practically nothing, in Hitler’s case a mustache so small that it barely existed.
Mr. Teach’s beard was very sinister indeed. It looked like someone had taken a marker and drawn a goatee on his face using thin black lines.
David leaned over to whisper in Jack’s ear. “I don’t like the look of this guy.”
Jack nodded in agreement.
Mr. Teach was a large man who looked to be in his forties.17 He wore a black velvet suit and had black leather gloves. In his left hand he carried an ebony cane topped with a straight silver handle.
The headmaster beamed at Mr. Teach and reached out his arm to shake hands. Mr. Teach flashed an enormous smile at him but didn’t lift up his right hand in response. Instead he set his ebony cane on the lectern and slapped the headmaster on the back with an enormous left hand.
Jack assumed that this was meant to be a friendly gesture, but the force of the back-slapping propelled the headmaster off the stage and into the first row of pupils.
There was a brief moment of panic when it seemed as if someone had been hurt. However, after a few seconds they realized that although someone had been hurt it had only been the craft teacher, so it didn’t really matter that much.
Mr. Teach leaned over the side of the stage where the headmaster had fallen. “Dreadfully sorry about that. Here, let me help you.”
Using only his left hand, Mr. Teach reached into the front row of the audience, caught the headmaster by his collar, and lifted him effortlessly onto the stage.
Although slightly disconcerted, the headmaster asked the pupils to give Mr. Teach a round of applause.
“Thank you, thank you for welcoming me to your beautiful school.” Mr. Teach’s voice was deep and booming. “Now, some of you may know who I am. I run Chapeau Noir Enterprises. We’re a large company that undertakes a variety of activities. We manufacture various products, we have a financial services arm18 and a consultancy business,19 and we also work in the area of energy provision. Over the years my businesses have made me a very rich man indeed. And now I have decided to give something back to the local community.”
David leaned over to Jack. “Maybe he’s going to buy us all bikes.”
Jack admired David’s optimism, but he knew that in situations like this, pupils never were given anything directly. It would be a new plumbing system, or computers for the staff room.
There was a loud noise of banging and clattering outside. The pupils looked out the large windows that lined one side of the hall. A huge crane and a long flatbed truck had arrived.
“I see the first of my gifts has arrived.” Mr. Teach smiled from the stage.
David stood up slightly and tried to get a better look at what was going on outside the school. “Why would they need such a large crane for some bikes?”
“I really don’t think it’s going to be bikes,” Jack muttered.
Mr. Teach banged his left fist on the podium to regain everyone’s attention. “Power!” he said loudly. His eyes seemed to glitter when he said the word. “My gift to you is power. Outside is a truck that carries the Chapeau Noir 3000. The world’s premier wind turbine.”
The wind turbines were enormous white poles at the end of which a large set of blades would be affixed. Mr. Teach carried on talking. “The system that I will set up outside will generate enough power for your entire school. The savings achieved will allow your teachers to buy even more books.”
“Great,” said David, “more books. That’s what I wanted. Can’t wait until I can go to the park so I can ride round the BMX track on my new book.”
“But that isn’t all I’m going to give to the school,” Mr. Teach continued.
“Oh, good,” said David, “now maybe he’s going to give us manacles to put on the pupils during detention.”
“This is going to be a present for each pupil.”
David’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Maybe we are going to get bikes after all! Or even better, a games system.”
Sometimes Jack wished that he could be as optimistic as David. Of course he wouldn’t want to be as stupid as David was, just the optimistic bit.
“What I am going to give you all is…” began Mr. Teach.
David had his fingers crossed and had screwed up his eyes as if he was wishing very hard indeed. It was either that or he needed to go to the toilet really badly.
“… new school uniforms.”
David’s face changed. Either he was very disappointed or he had accidentally gone to the toilet. Theoretically it could have been a combination of both. After all, if he had just gone to the toilet in the middle of the assembly hall, he was likely to be slightly disappointed in himself.
Mr. Teach spread his arms out, indicating both sides of the stage. From the right-hand side came one of the sixth-form girls and from the left one of the sixth-form boys. The girl was wearing a green skirt, white shirt, green jumper, and a striped green, blue, and white tie. The boy was wearing black trousers, a white shirt, and a black blazer, his tie the same as the girl’s.
“Wonderful new uniforms, stylish and cool. And more importantly, made of polyester, so they’re entirely machine washable! I bet your mothers will be pleased about that.” Mr. Teach and the headmaster chuckled onstage. No one else in the assembly hall found the joke funny.
The headmaster walked up beside Mr. Teach. “I’m sure we’d all like to thank Mr. Teach and his company, Chapeau Noir.” The headmaster started a round of applause that was gradually picked up across the hall. “But Mr. Teach is being far too modest. In addition to the new uniforms and the wind turbines, he has agreed to spruce up the school. We’ll be getting new carpets for all the corridors, new door handles, and a lick of paint around the place! Pretty soon you won’t recognize the school.”
David whispered to Jack, “We can use that as an excuse next time we’re late. We’ll just say we didn’t recognize the school and walked straight past it.” Jack wasn’t sure whether David was being serious or not.
The headmaster explained to the assembly that they were all to line up and get their new uniforms immediately. Jack and David shuffled into line.
“There’s something suspicious about this.” Jack was thinking again. “Why would they give us new uniforms that look exactly the same as the old ones?”
* * *
MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK
CONSULTANCY BUSINESSES
WHAT THEY ACTUALLY DO
Essentially consultancy firms are hired when a business has a problem they are not sure how to solve. The consultancy firm is called in to help. The conversation then goes as follows:
Business: We have a problem. Here it is.
Consultancy: Well, we can tell from our expertise that is indeed a problem.
Business: Well, yes, we know that it’s a problem. We just told you that. Now we need a solution to that problem.
Consultancy: (Thinks for a minute) From our experience we think that you need a solution.
Business: Didn’t we already say that?
Consultancy: Have you any idea how you are going to solve it?
Business: Well, we have a few ideas, but we were hoping that you’d …
Consultancy: If you tell us the ideas you have, we’ll take them away, write them down, and then give them back to you with a nice cover on the front.
Business: But isn’t that just telling us the same ideas we’ve told you?
Consultancy: Y-eeesss. But we’re also going to charge you £20,000.
Business: Twenty thousand pounds! For telling us our own ideas back to us?
Consultancy: Well, yes, but the report will have a really nice cover.
* * *
7
THE BOX OF SPARES
Unfortunately, although the special assembly had taken up more of the morning than normal, it still hadn’t take
n up enough time for Jack and David to miss P.E.
It wasn’t that Jack especially disliked physical activity. It was more that he especially disliked P.E. teachers.
When Jack’s parents had taken him to visit Madame Tussauds Wax Museum20 in London, they had walked through the Chamber of Horrors. There had been wax figures of masked torturers doing unspeakable things to poor, unfortunate wretches. Sticking things where things shouldn’t be stuck. Placing unbearably hot things onto parts of the body that definitely weren’t heat resistant.
“I bet you’re glad they don’t have those kinds of people around anymore,” said the mustache that passed for Jack’s father.
Jack had thought to himself that the problem was that people like the torturer still existed. It was just that there were fewer job opportunities in the torturing industries these days. So the kind of people who used to become torturers applied to become P.E. teachers instead.
Jack and David were getting changed with the rest of the boys in their class when Mr. Rackham, the P.E. teacher, walked in. He was a large, barrel-shaped man with thick forearms and legs that bulged like a pair of overinflated pink balloons21 out of his regulation blue running shorts.
He was missing a hand, which he said he had lost in a particularly vicious rugby scrum many years ago. His hand had been replaced with a pair of steel pincers that he used to crush cans of fizzy pop when he was finished with them.
Jack found it slightly bizarre that a man who had lost his hand playing rugby would want to encourage small children to take up the sport, but the viciousness of P.E. teachers clearly knew no bounds.
Mr. Rackham was completely bald, but still sported an enormous, bushy beard. This had led to Jack once asking him, “Mr. Rackham, why have you put your head on upside down?” Following this incident Jack was made to run twenty laps of the rugby pitch, until he thought he was going to throw up several of his internal organs. Jack later told his classmates that to see the look of rage on Mr. Rackham’s face he would gladly have run another twenty laps. We have no information about how Jack’s internal organs felt about this proposal.
