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Teachers Call For Smaller Pupils

TEACHING unions have called for all school children to be no more than 18 inches high in a bid to drive up standards.

The National Union of Teachers (NUT) said children are now too big to be taught effectively and only a radical reduction in child sizes will help Britain take on the Chinese.

Wayne Hayes, the NUT's child size officer,  said: "Ideally we want school-age children to be between 12 and 18 inches high.

"This means they can be picked-up and put in a bag or herded into corners.

"But they're not so small that you would stand on them, or miss them altogether and leave them locked in the school overnight."

He added: "Tiny children are more receptive to teachers, mainly because they look like terrifying giants.

"You're not going to be giving lip to someone who is four or five times taller than you and speaks in a big booming voice.

"They are also cheaper to feed – one large carrot would last them a week. And I'd imagine it would be great fun to race them."

The Department of Education said it would consider a tiny pilot scheme and is looking at an experimental breeding programme involving the top 12 National Hunt jockeys and Dannii Minogue.

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At Home With Boy George

HE is one of the biggest stars of his generation, known for his acid wit and his flamboyant sense of style. Boy George – icon, artist, enigma – gives the Daily Mash a privileged peek inside his luxurious London home…

George greets us dressed in a silk kimono. His make-up is freshly applied and he sips from a cup of sage and jasmine tea. He is gracious and warm as he guides us through his exquisitely appointed hallway. We are intruiged by the intricate leatherwork that adorns the walls and the masterful watercolours which express George's passion for ancient Greek heroes having acrobatic sexual intercourse.

As we move into the drawing room, a mixture of 1930s Coco Chanel Paris with a smattering of Bo-Ho chic, we notice the beautiful, tiny mirrors placed on the coffee table and the lingering scent of what can only be described as Grade 'A' skunk.

George sinks into a sumptuous, pink leather armchair that, in just the right light, looks remarkably like a giant scrotum.

He talks excitedly about his triumphant return to London and his fascinating new projects, before throwing a custard cream to the 16 year-old Moroccan boy chained to the radiator. Hassan glances up with a look that says, 'phone the police immediately'. He has the aroma of freshly pressed olive oil.

George's kitchen is sleek and efficient. Naked dwarves are preparing a brunch of roasted butternut squash and blanched spinach. In the corner a 16 year-old Morrocan boy is peeling garlic while chained to a radiator. The stainless steel worktops are spotless and dazzling.

George's inner sanctum, his boudoir – his bedroom – is a riot of colour. We sense that the theme is male genitalia. The bed seems narrow until it expands into two symetrical round sections at the top. "It looks like a great big cock," we say to George and he smiles and nods.

Negotiating our way around the 16 year-old Morrocan boy who is strapped to the bedroom door, we move back into the hallway and our brief but scintillating odyssey through the life of George is complete.

He thanks us graciously as we pass back into the Georgeless streets and with a final wave he seems to say, 'give me an hour before you contact the authorities'.

He is, simply, George. A national treasure.

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