Teacher: What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody! [class laughs] Teacher: The laddie reckons himself a poet! [reads poem] Teacher: "Money get back / I'm all right, Jack / Keep your hands off my stack / New car / Caviar / Four star daydream / Think I'll buy me a football team" Absolute rubbish, laddie. [whacks him with a ruler, growls at Pink] Teacher: Get on with your work.