‘Why are you sniggering, girls?’ asks Miss Hanafin

Having escaped to the secure southside environs of Sion Hill bunker, the barely bruised and defiant ex-Minister for SFA thought she was away and clear. She had known that this day would come, and when the Reichstag was going down in flames she knew she would still have the tunnel which she had dug over twelve long years with no help from nobody except her butty Eminem from Cork who gave her twenty of those years. After all, being the ruling elite is an uncertain game and it’s good to have the teachering trade to fall back on. For the kids like.

But naive Miss Hanafin reckoned without the prowess of fifteen year old girls, or ‘those lethal blades’ as the mother of one of the fifteen year olds, a generic Sorcha, calls them. Hanafin discovered her mistake when she took the ‘Careers’ class. A few disjointed sniggers at the mention of Job Education soon turned into open guffaws, culminating in widespread foaming at the mouth and a threat by several known emos to ‘cut something Oi swear if that sarcastic cai doesn’t loike shut up.’

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Eamon De Valera in happier times

Hanafin responded daintily to media queries with ‘Well frankly they’re making a mockery of the whole system.  I tried to curtail the adolescent sniggering at the mention of Jobs Education. There’s nothing dirty about the subject, any child in the country should be able to talk openly about it without fear or embarrassment, and it’s a part of our history. I tried to tell them that the future is sunny, but alas they were like a rabid pack of starving bitches frankly. I use that in the canine sense because I was brought up correctly within a large and proper family structure. I certainly would expect more from the Sion Hill girls I’ve taught,’ said the clearly out of touch bounty hunter. ‘Although,’ Fett added, ‘that was in another century and a galaxy far, far away.’

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