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I know I've a small reputation for leaping from the perambulator
over certain Stokey issues but the latest Hackney schools debacle takes even my breath
away.
At the start of this term there were over 80 11-year-olds languishing at home in N16
because no secondary place could be found for them in the locality. And the situation is
on course to get considerably worse. Stokey Comp, or Stoke Newington Tap Dancing Fame
Academy as I believe it likes to be called, is monstrously oversubscribed with a sizeable
pocket of Islington kids having fled the truly dire sink secondaries in their home
borough. Personally I think the comp is just Flavour Of The Month and from what I hear has
some serious problems which are being swept aside in the frantic race! for a place any
place which isn't in the wilds of E5 with flick-knives optional. But I digress.
The fact is if you don't live in a campavan parked
outside the gates you can forget Stokey Comp. And as 80-odd parents have recently
discovered can be reduced to gazing balefully at a depressed Archie or Amy across the
kitchen table, struggling with logarithms for the first time in 30 years while work goes
hang. This magazine would like to hear first hand from these parents and maybe an
apparatchnik from Hackney Council might grace us with a word or two?
By the way, I bumped into the parent of a 10-year-old this week recently moved from N16
who used to vigorously sing the praises of Stokey's most fashionable primary. She and
hubby were called to see said son's new head in Westminster (bog standard ! state) and
told bright Little Jimmy was roughly 18 months behind the national average for his year
group and would be playing serious catch up for some time to come. 'Apparently, Sue, he
can paint wonderfully expressive pictures but has no idea where to put a comma.' Scales
had not merely fallen but been ripped from her eyes. I suppose if you shovel them straight
into the Comp you're none the wiser.
'Sod the planet', said I, 'show me the napalm.'
The council have been round our gaff this week. A deeply
eccentric man from Pest Control arrived to zap the mouse/mice who are now cosied up on the
sofa watching Eastenders with us. I am utterly mortified of course but he assured me 'you
ain't The Chosen One darlin', Stoke Newington is bloody rife'. I'd already galloped round
to KAC where I was shown a vast arsenal for rodent destruction. Apparently, the best
seller by far in this ecologically sound neck of the woods is a politically correct, non-
poisonous, Heath Robinson-style sticky pad. 'Sod the planet', said I, 'show me the
napalm.' There is now enough poison scattered around my house to keep Al Qaida going for
the next 6 months.
AWARD WINNING
CLASSIC
THAI CUISINE

CELEBRATING 10 YEARS
30 Stoke Newington Church Street
London N16 0LU
Tell 020 7254 6751
Web: www.yumyum.co.uk
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It's like when you go into Fresh and Wild and they ask you
very pointedly whether you'd like a carrier bag. Inference being they'd rather you
masturbated with a crucifix in the main aisle. No, actually I'm in training for Zippo's
and thought I'd juggle these 27 cartons and bottles up Church Street. God knows why they
bother when every other supermarket on the block hands you an instantly breakable carrier
bag if you buy so much as a box of matches.
At least the skies over N16 appear finally to have lost their Blitz-like
glow. For weeks on end it's been like living in downtown Kosovo with enormous fireworks
rending the air each night. Apparently the source is a gunpowder palace i.e. firework shop
on the High Street across from Bar Lorca with incendiary competition from one on Newington
Green.
Just what the disaffected youth of Stokey have been yearning for weapons of mass
destruction. I'm off to pay a visit there, re the mouse.
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