- What do you want?
- I've got a message for Mr Gryce.

Better wait in the queue, then.
He likes to keep yer waitin'.
He thinks it makes it worse.

He can keep me till four o'clock.
I'm not bothered.

l'd rather the cane than do lessons.
Come here, you.
Save us these till after
we come outta Gryce's.

He'll think I'm a smoker.
He'll not search you but he'll search us,
and if he finds 'em, we'll get two extra.

- I don't want 'em.
- You want some fist instead?

- You want to take them?
- You'd better, lad.

OK. But if I get caned,
you give me something.

Aye. Some fist if yer don't.
'Ey up, he's here - Gryce Pudding.
Single file.
Right. You lost, lad?
- Please, sir, I'm going...
- On yer way, form room.

You lot, inside.
Same old faces.
Same old faces.
Ten years this school's been opened,
and ten years have we seen, after
every assembly, a line of boys here,

and the same old faces.
- Sir, I've got a message...
- Shut up. Don't interrupt. Close the door.

I've taught in this city for over 30 years.
I taught some of your parents -
your father, MacDowall -

in the old slum schools in the city,
before they built this fine estate,
and this wonderful school.

Things are no better now
than they were then.

I just can't understand this generation.
I thought I knew something
about young people.

I should be able to,
you know, with my experience.

But with you, no.
lt just seems a complete
waste of money and a waste of time.

And it's a waste of time
talking to you now.