Once upon a time, there was a cold, grey place where the clock always ticked and the young people cried . This place was called Haydon. At that time the students wore uniforms made of sackcloth and used books made from potato peelings.

A particular class in Year 8, were extremely unhappy, as they had been having a Maths lesson that had had already lasted two weeks. A few of the students said that it had been the longest two weeks of their short lives. They were all longing for the end of the lesson so that they could finally have something to eat. I'm sure you can imagine what it's like to be taught Maths on an empty stomach!

The teacher, a tall well-spoken man suddenly turned around and looked at the class in anguish.

He moved forward and then suddenly fell quickly backwards, crashing onto the cold, damp floor.

His body lay quite still. Had he been murdered by one of the students? This was extremely unlikely as the students were tied to their chairs by thick cords of rope. In that case he could have been murdered by the happy, smiling woman who had cheerfully entered the room on about the eighth day of the lesson. She didn't look like a murderer but the tea she gave him could have contained a slow acting poison.

Suddenly the dead teacher, stretched out like a stranded whale, began to callout "Mummy! Mummmmy! I want my Mummy". He got to his feet and shouted, "Class dismissed!"

The whole class made a charge towards the door. They had just one thought in their heads - lets get to the front of the dinner queue first.

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