Posted by: Sam Olsen | November 4, 2011

The Chronicles of Larry 11: school’s in

So this week it’s my birthday. Yesterday in fact. And how do They celebrate it? By sending me to school. Brilliant. They say “When in Rome…all the other children here start school early.” Well, we’re not in Rome, we’re in Hong Kong. Fact.

My first day at school was on Tuesday, so unbelievably two days before I’d even reached 1 years old. Oh, the humanity.

I was met at the gates by Miss Audrey, an American teacher who seemed nice but you can never tell with these things. (One of the other kids reckon she’d make a good female version of Michael Douglas in Falling Down, that flick where he snaps and attacks everyone. Not particularly looking forward to that, I can tell you.)

I’ve got to wear a bright yellow hat, a bright yellow t-shirt, and carry a rucksack around: I look like a backpacking banana.

It’s a real mix of people in here, for sure. Some of them are so immodest that they actually deign to walk on two feet, without so much as a care in the world. There’s nothing so unedifying as the bipedally arrogant, as I’m sure you would agree.

We kick off the day with a 15 minute Chinese lesson. I don’t like this at all, especially given that my last experience of Mandarin was the driver for the Great Wall trip that never was. I’m just relieved the teacher isn’t dressed in a greasy boiler suit and not hawking up some flem.

Snack time comes and even though Chinese teacher man disappears, I feel even worse. All the other kids decide to use a spoon, but of course I only use spoons as substitute drumsticks so this is never going to work. The snack-time teacher looks pityingly at me. I glower back.

I go and have a play on my own, with a little tractor which I am sure is going to be pretty easy to break. “Come over here Larry, it’s food time” calls Mr Richard, sounding a bit like Vic Reeves imitating Loyd Grossman on Masterchef. “Oh, what have you here? A tractor. Oh, I looove it. How about we make a tractor cake, Larry?” And with that he puts the farm vehicle in the fake oven that stands in the corner of the room. “Ding! Well it looks like we’ve made my favourite food!” You quite clearly haven’t, I point out. You’ve put a piece of metal and plastic in another piece of metal and plastic. “Do you want a piece of cake, Larry?” Yes, actually, I do. Go and buy one like a normal human being. “Hmm, delicious. There might not be any left for you, Larry” Go on, eat it, every last screw. Please, please, please.

But alas it is not to be. Instead, we have more lessons, but at least this time they’re in English. I would say this was my mother tongue, but I’m not actually sure either of Them speak English the way you’re meant to. Sometimes They have the diction of a barely trained orang-utan. I’ve got no hope.

And AT LAST it’s time to go home. And boy, am I shattered. Time for a nice sleep. And dreaming about life before school, when I was young and free. All of 363 days.



  1. can we see a pic of larry in his yellow uniform? x

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