'And now the book list. The first is The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame. This gives
the finest description of English middle-class aspirations and attitudes to be found in English
literature. You will find that it deals entirely with animals, and that these animals are all
male. The only women in the book are minor characters, one a bargewoman and the others a jailer's
daughter and her aunt, and strictly speaking they are irrelevant. The main characters are a Water
Rat, a Mole, a Badger and a Toad, none of whom is married or evinces the slightest interest in
the opposite sex. Those of you who come from more torrid climates, or have sauntered through
Soho, may find this lack of sexual motif surprising. I can only say that its absence is entirely
in keeping with the values of middle-class family life in England. For those students who are not
content with aspirations and attitudes but wish to study the subject in greater, if prurient,
depth I can recommend certain of the daily newspapers, and in particular the Sunday ones. The
number of choirboys indecently assaulted annually by vicars and churchwardens may lead you to
suppose that England is a deeply religious country. I incline to the view held by some
that...'
But whatever view Wilt was about to incline to, the class never learnt. He stopped in
mid-sentence and stared down at a face in the third row. Irmgard Mueller was one of his students.
Worse still, she was looking at him with a curious intensity and had not bothered to take any
notes. Wilt gazed back and then looked down at his own notes and tried to think what to say next.
But all the ideas he had so ironically rehearsed had disintegrated. For the first time in a long
career of improvisation, Wilt dried up. He stood at the rostrum with sweating hands and looked at
the clock. He had to say something for the next forty minutes, something intense and serious and
yes, even significant. That dread word of his sensitive youth burped to the surface. Wilt steeled
himself.
'As I was saying,' he stammered just as his audience began to whisper among themselves, 'none
of the books I have recommended will do more than scratch the surface of the problem of being
English...or rather of knowing the nature of the English.' For the next half an hour he strung
disjointed sentences together and finally muttering something about pragmaticism gathered his
notes together and ended the lecture. He was just climbing down from the stage when Irmgard left
her seat and approached him.
'Mr Wilt,' she said, 'I want to say how interesting I found your lecture.'
'Very good of you to say so,' said Wilt dissembling his passion.
'I was particularly interested in what you said about the parliamentary system only seeming to
be democratic. You are the first lecturer we have had who has put the problem of England in the
context of social reality and popular culture. You were very illuminating.'
It was an illuminated Wilt who floated out of the auditorium and up the steps to his office.
There could be no doubt about it now Irmgard was not simply beautiful. She was also radiantly
intelligent. And Wilt had met the perfect woman twenty years too late.
He was so preoccupied with this new and exhilarating problem that he was twenty minutes late
for the meeting of the Education Committee and arrived as Mr Dobble was leaving with the film
projector and the air of a man who has done his duty by putting the cat among the pigeons.
'Don't blame me, Mr Wilt,' he said as Wilt scowled, 'I'm only here to...'
Wilt ignored him and entered the room to find the Committee arranging themselves around a long
table. A solitary chair was placed conspicuously at the far end and, as Wilt had foreseen, they
were all there, the Principal, the Vice-Principal, Councillor Blighte-Smythe, Mrs Chatterway, Mr
Squidley and the Chief Education Officer.
'Ah, Wilt,' said the Principal by way of unenthusiastic greeting. 'Take a seat.'
Wilt steeled himself to avoid the solitary chair and sat down beside the Education Officer. 'I
gather you want to see me about the anti-pornographic film made by a member of the Liberal
Studies Department,' he said, trying to take the initiative.
The Committee glared at him.
'You can cut the anti for a start,' said Councillor Blighte-Smythe, 'what we have just seen
buggers...er...beggars belief. The thing is downright pornography.'
'I suppose it might be to someone with a fetish about crocodiles,' said Wilt. 'Personally,
since I haven't had the chance to see the film, I can't say how it would affect me.'
'But you did say it was anti-pornographic,' said Mrs Chatterway whose progressive opinions
invariably put her at odds with the Councillor and Mr Squidley, 'and as Head of Liberal Studies
you must have sanctioned it. I'm sure the Committee would like to hear your reasons.'
Wilt smiled wryly. 'I think the title of Head of Department needs some explaining, Mrs
Chatterway,' he began, only to be interrupted by Blighte-Smythe.
'So does this fuc... filthy film we've just had to see. Let's stick to the issue,' he
snapped.
'It happens to be the issue,' said Wilt. 'The mere fact that I am called Head of Liberal
Studies doesn't mean I am in a position to control what the members of my so-called staff
do.'
'We know what they ruddy well do,' said Mr Squidley, 'and if any man on my workforce started
doing what we've watched I'd soon give him the boot.'
'Well, it's rather different in education,' said Wilt. 'I can lay down guidelines in regard to
teaching policy, but I think the Principal will agree that no Head of Department can sack a
lecturer for failing to follow them.' Wilt looked at the Principal for confirmation. It came
regretfully. The Principal would happily have sacked Wilt years ago. 'True,' he muttered.
'You mean to tell us you can't get rid of the pervert who made this film?' demanded
Blighte-Smythe.
'Not unless he continually fails to turn up for his teaching periods, is habitually drunk, or
openly cohabits with students, no,' said Wilt.
'Is that true?' Mr Squidley asked the Education Officer.
'I'm afraid so. Unless we can prove blatant incompetence or sexual immorality involving a
student, there's no way of removing a full-time lecturer.'
'If getting a student to bugger a crocodile isn't sexual immorality I'd like to know what is,'
said Councillor Blighte-Smythe.
'As I understand it the object in question was not a proper crocodile and there was no actual
intercourse,' said Wilt, 'and in any case the lecturer merely recorded the event on film. He
didn't participate himself.'
'He'd have been arrested if he had,' said Mr Squidley. 'It's a wonder the sod wasn't
lynched.'
'Aren't we in danger of losing the central theme of this meeting?' asked the Principal. 'I
believe Mr Ranlon has some other questions to raise.'
The Education Officer shuffled his notes. 'I would like to ask Mr Wilt what his policy
guidelines are in regard to Liberal Studies. They may have some bearing on a number of complaints
we have received from members of the public.' He glared at Wilt and waited.
'It might help if I knew what those complaints were,' said Wilt stalling for time, but Mrs
Chatterway intervened.
'Surely the purpose of Liberal Studies has always been to inculcate a sense of social
responsibility and concern for others in the young people in our care, many of whom have
themselves been deprived of a progressive education.'
'Depraved would be a better word if you ask me,' said Councillor Blighte-Smythe.
'Nobody did,' barked Mrs Chatterway. 'We all know very well what your views are.'
'Perhaps if we heard what Mr Wilt's views are...' suggested the Education Officer.
'Well, in the past Liberal Studies consisted largely of keeping day-release apprentices quiet
for an hour by getting them to read books,' said Wilt. 'In my opinion they didn't learn anything
and the system was a waste of time.' He halted in the hope that the Councillor would say
something to infuriate Mrs Chatterway. Mr Squidley squashed the hope by agreeing with him.
'Always was and always will be. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They'd be better
employed doing a proper day's work instead of wasting ratepayers' money loafing in
classrooms.'
'Well at least we have some measure of agreement,' said the Principal pacifically. 'As I
understand it Mr Wilt's guideline has been a more practical one. Am I right, Wilt?'
'The policy of the department has been to teach apprentices how to do things. I believe in
interesting them in...'
'Crocodiles?' enquired Councillor Blighte-Smythe.
'No,' said Wilt.
The Education Officer looked down the list in front of him. 'I see here that your notion of
practical education includes home brewing.'
Wilt nodded.
'May one ask why? I shouldn't have thought encouraging adolescents to become alcoholics served
any educational purpose.'
'It serves to keep them out of pubs for a start,' said Wilt. 'And in any case Gas Engineers
Four are not adolescents. Half of them are married men with children.'
'And does the course in home brewing extend to the manufacture of illicit stills?'
'Stills?' said Wilt.
'For making spirit.'
'I don't think anyone in my department would have the expertise. As it is the stuff they brew
is...'
'According to Customs and Excise almost pure alcohol,' said the Education Officer. 'Certainly
the forty-gallon drum they unearthed from the basement of the Engineering block had to be burnt.
In the words of one Excise officer, you could run a car on the muck.'
'Perhaps that's what they intended it for,' said Wilt.
'In which case,' continued the Education Officer, 'it hardly seemed appropriate to have
labelled several bottles Chateau Tech VSOP.'
The Principal looked at the ceiling and prayed but the Education Officer hadn't finished.
'Would you mind telling us about the class you have organized for Caterers on Self
Sufficiency?'
'Well, actually it's called Living Off The Land,' said Wilt.
'Quite so. The land in question being Lord Podnorton's.'
'Never heard of him.'
'He has heard of this institution. His head gamekeeper caught two apprentice cooks in the act
of decapitating a pheasant with the aid of a ten-foot length of plastic tubing through which had
been looped a strand of piano wire stolen from the Music Department, which probably accounts for
the fact that fourteen pianos have had to be restrung in the past two terms.'
'Good Lord, I thought they had been vandalized,' muttered the Principal.
'Lord Podnorton was under the same misapprehension about his greenhouses, four cold frames, a
currant cage...'
'Well, all I can say,' interrupted Wilt, 'is that breaking into greenhouses wasn't part of the
syllabus for Living Off The Land. I can assure you of that. I got the idea from my wife who is
very keen on composting...'
'No doubt you got the next course from her too. I have here a letter from Mrs Tothingford
complaining that we conduct classes in karate for nannies. Perhaps you would like to explain
that.'
'We do have a course called Rape Retaliation for Nursery Nurses. We thought it wise in the
light of the rising tide of violence.'
'Very sensible too,' said Mrs Chatterway, 'I heartily approve.'
'Perhaps you do,' said the Education Officer looking at her critically over his glasses, 'Mrs
Tothingford doesn't. Her letter is addressed from the hospital where she is being treated for a
broken collar-bone, a dislocated Adam's apple, and internal injuries inflicted on her by her
nanny last Saturday night. You're not going to tell me that Mrs Tothingford is a rapist?'
'She might be,' said Wilt. 'Have you asked her if she is a lesbian? It's been known for '
'Mrs Tothingford happens to be the mother of five and wife of...' He consulted the letter.
'Three?' asked Wilt.
'Judge Tothingford, Wilt,' snarled the Education Officer. 'And if you're suggesting that a
judge's wife is a lesbian I would remind you that there is such a thing as slander.'
'There's such a thing as a married lesbian too,' said Wilt. 'I knew one once. She lived down
our...'
'We are not here to discuss your deplorable acquaintances.'
'I thought you were. After all you asked me here to talk about a film made by a lecturer in my
department and while I would not call him a friend I am vaguely acquainted...'
He was silenced by a kick under the table from the V-P.
'Is that the end of the casualty list?' asked the Principal hopefully.
'I could go on almost indefinitely, but I won't,' said the Education Officer. 'What it all
adds up to is that the Liberal Studies Department is not only failing in its supposed function of
instilling a sense of social responsibility in day-release apprentices but is actively fostering
anti-social behaviour...'
'That's not my fault,' said Wilt angrily.
'You are responsible for the way your department is run, and as such answerable to the Local
Authority.'
Wilt snorted 'Local Authority, my foot. If I had any authority at all this film would never
have been made. Instead of that I am lumbered with lecturers I didn't appoint and can't fire,
half of whom are raving revolutionaries or anarchists, and the other half couldn't keep order if
the students were in strait-jackets and you expect me to be answerable for everything that
happens.'
Wilt looked at the members of the Committee and shook his head. Even the Education Officer was
looking somewhat abashed.
'The problem is clearly a very complex one.' said Mrs Chatterway, who had swung round to
Wilt's defence since hearing about the Rape Retaliation Course for Nursery Nurses. 'I think I can
speak for the entire Committee when I say we appreciate the difficulties Mr Wilt faces.'
'Never mind what Mr Wilt faces,' intervened Blighte-Smythe. 'We are going to face a few
difficulties ourselves if this thing ever gets out. If the press got wind of the story...'