This is the letter I’ve just written to my kid’s school. I need to get it in before the end of term tomorrow. You think it’ll work?
Dear Headteacher who I admire and support wholeheartedly,
I am writing to you to explain our unique family situation and why I seek your permission to take our youngest child out of your OFSTED-inspected outstanding school during the last week of September.
My husband works in television. It is a silly job. People who make TV programmes behave as though they are performing life-saving brain surgery every day. My husband is one of the very few people I’ve met in the industry of telly who isn’t an utter wanker (please know that ordinarily I NEVER swear, especially in front of my children. I am a writer and therefore possess a vast vocabulary which needn’t stoop to potty-mouthness, but there is honestly no other word in our fine English language that adequately describes the truly masturbatory nature of many of these telly-types).
Part of the reason my husband avoids this self-abusing label is because he works in children’s television, where there is a requirement to behave less wankerly than say, on the set of TopGear.
As you know better than anyone, working with children demands that you maintain exacting standards for your own behaviour whilst also having a well-rounded sense of humour for those times when they jokingly spread their own shit on the doorhandle of your office…little tykes! (Btw I know the Mum of the boy who did that and can tell you that it was indeed a premeditated act apparently in retaliation for not allowing him a week off to go to Disneyland Paris…)
My husband has both of these qualities. I can tell you he is highly respected by all the kids and wankers and kids of wankers who work in the industry. He also role-models hard work and decency to his own children at all times and never lets them hear him call me a cunty-twat during arguments. He is a GOOD DAD.
The downside of his job is that because he works with children, they are most available during the school holidays, (because of all the bureaucratic, pissy EU child-labour laws; something Brexit will hopefully iron out!) which means he is unable to take any holiday during the six-week break.
I tell you all of this so that you understand my request for term-time holiday is not because we want a cheap break in the sun. Far from it. I can assure you that the bargainous price we have paid is irrelevant to a respectable middle-class family such as ours; the kind of family whose parents run the PTA and raise loads of money for essential school equipment (not that I am in ANY WAY suggesting that my 13 years of service to the PTA so far, plus the 5 years to come, should hold ANY sway when making your decision about whether to fine us £120 which will inevitably result in my needing to work more hours and therefore step down from my PTA commitments, possibly taking all my cake-baking mates with me).
I am also not suggesting for a moment that youngest will benefit in any educational sense from our holiday. He will eat crisps, stay up late and watch his parents get drunk on Rioja. He would be far better off at school with you. But we can’t leave him home alone, as I’m sure you understand and someone needs to remember to pack the passports.
My final plea for understanding is that, as is the case for all hard-working parents, it is only when on holiday, away from the pressures of daily life and fuelled by Rioja, that we manage to have adequate sexual intercourse. I’m sure you agree that happy Mummies and Daddies make for happy children and that certainly was the case the last time we had sex (in May, in Spain, during half-term because we always respect school attendance rules and also because husband was off work with a broken leg so it worked out perfectly) where we suddenly found our offspring to be delightful humans and did not once tell them to fuck off.
I also realise that my persistent inability to get my child to school, dressed correctly and bringing the appropriate equipment/money for trips/completed homework means that his score for punctuality is woefully inadequate and that you are therefore less likely to allow us this great priviledge. I have no defence for this piss-shite incompetence, but please know that I aim to attempt a ‘dry’ month in September (apart from the week in Spain on the lash, obvs) which will result in getting to school promptly as I won’t need seventeen cups of coffee and a heavy dose of painkillers before leaving the house. However I cannot promise we won’t both be miserably weeping on arrival…
I do hope this letter explains our quite unique and special family circumstances and that you will see fit to allow our youngest this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn nothing that week except for how to order chips and ketchup in Spanish.
With much gratitude and huge respect for you, especially your outstandingly gorgeous hair and extremely sophisticated taste in clothes which I always make a point of commenting on whenever I see you…
Your hard-working, sex-starved, alcoholic, PTA chairperson
Fingers crossed guys…