When the country’s going to hell in a handcart,
When the sound of Gove on the radio makes you so incoherent with rage that you can’t string together a sentence*,
When the management’s lost touch with reality (Head vanished up own arse)
What do you do?
Cake for the workers.
(I resisted the temptation to ice political slogans.)
*If I hear once more how the big deal about teachers striking is that it inconveniences working mothers (because obviously working fathers could never take time off from their big important well paid manly careers to care for their own children), I may run amok burning lingerie.