Dear Mr Kannes,
I regret to inform you that despite receiving your letter of the 25th on deadline, your daughter Marianna has not been awarded a place at Pagniums Academy for Young Ladies.
This is not only due to your lack of punctuality; there are many reasons, the first being that at Pagnium’s we do not accept young women who fail to show dedication to their studies. In Marianna’s entry examination, she wrote ‘flower arranging is dull dull DULL and I won’t do it because I couldn’t give a flying soap sud about freesias’ in answer to a question about her motives to study.
We do not use freesias in our flower arranging. We find them below par. Your daughter’s answers were mostly distasteful, aggressive and rude – also below the standard at Pagniums.
The second reason for Marianna missing out is her appearance. We find ankle length red hair and sparkly yellow eyeshadow unsuitable in education. When asked before her entry examination to remove it, Marianna replied with ‘but it’s Bourjois.’ When my secretary informed her this was not an issue, she retorted ‘it is an issue to me! My eye make up is a reflection of my warm and sunny personality! Also, it cost eighteen quid so no.’ The exclamation marks are necessary as Marianna also waved her arms whilst speaking, breaking a nearby cabinet of fine china. The bill for the broken plates, cups and saucers is £3,012. Much obliged.
I have enclosed Marianna’s entrance examination paper so you may reprimand her behaviour. Please do not encourage her to apply again.
Headmistress of Pagnium’s Academy for Young Ladies
ENTRANCE EXAMINATION: PAGNIUM’S ACADEMY FOR YOUNG LADIES
10TH JULY AM
PLEASE ANSWER IN AS MUCH DETAIL AS POSSIBLE. MARKS WILL BE AWARDED FOR GRAMMAR, PUNCTUATION AND SPELLING. BE HONEST.
NAME: Marianna Kannes
What do you find admirable about Pagnium’s?
Not much to be honest. All of the teachers look snotty, all the girls look like they should be called Araminta or Mimsy and I reckon food is scarce. Bet you practically encourage bulimia here. Did you know that being thin is not everything? Tell your pinhead secretary to make quieter comments about my size in future. I’m glad you think a size 14 is astronomical. It means I am viewable from space. Unfortunately your receptionist having a nose the size of a landing pad is also something Martians will notice.
What are your views on the arts of bouquet dressing, afternoon tea preparation and the pursuit of origami?
Origami’s OK. My friend Flora is a fantastic origamist, she makes battle scenes.
The others are just activities for airheads. Afternoon tea? Throw a teabag into a mug, pour in half a bag of sugar and a splash of milk, DONE. None of this cutting the crusts off cucumber sandwiches lark. Lord Wetherby will have to eat up or shut up. Flower arranging is dull dull DULL and I won’t do it because I couldn’t give a flying soap sud about freesias.
If you could have afternoon tea with any person, alive or dead, who would it be?
4. How can you achieve excellence? Answer in detail.
Hair’s not long enough. Could be nicer to stepsister. Hate her. She’s worse than Lord Farquad in Shrek. Bet you haven’t seen Shrek. Snobs.
What does ‘poise’ mean to you?
I’m still alive but I’m barely breathing
Just praying to a God that I don’t believe in
I’ve got time and she’s still sheeping (with the sheep)
Cos when a heart breaks no it don’t break even
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHEN THE BEST THING ABOUT ME WAS ALWAYS YOU
WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY WHEN I’M ALL CHOKED UP AND YOU’’RE OK?????
I’M FALLINH TO PIECES
I’M FALLING TO PIIIIIECES
The Script – Breakeven
What would your style advice be to a young female royal?
If she’s going to be a good royal, I’d say buy a few fantastic hats. Eggshell blue, pastel pink, one dramatic hat a season. Knee length skirts at all times. No ripped hemlines, no cleavage, not too much leg, no laddered tights, boring make up, boring hair, boring everything.
If she’s not then she can just wear high street like the other 90% of the population.
PLEASE TURN THE PAGE
Mary and Joseph almighty.
I have to destroy this letter before my father sees it. Not only does he hate the Osbournes, but he buys me flowers every year for my birthday (a massive bouquet that costs a zillion and ten pounds) and I’ve never had the heart to tell him flowers are hideously pointless and I really couldn’t care less about them. Also my Dad’s really into that etiquette stuff. Respect of elders and things. It’s a real effort. He’ll be horrified that I said that old goat had a massive beak.
I’m actually quite a meek person, most of the time, if you can believe it. But when I saw that paper with all those ridiculous questions, I knew I had to be honest.
I could have easily pulled out my encyclopaedic knowledge of the monarchy and my enthusiasm for tea in all shapes and forms, whether drinkable or edible but I hated the whole establishment and I cherish my morals far too much to jeopardise them in favour of scholarships.
What I’d really like to do is be a pianist, not a flower arranger. Humans call them florists. Odd little creatures, humans. Nothing like us fairies.
They’d definitely find it funny that an oaf like me is in any way shape or form supernatural. My dad finds it funny. He’s the source of all my fairy blood.
My mother’s human. The only one I know. She’s fantastic, my mum, but fairies can be very unaccepting and most of my dad’s family hated her for being a common mortal. Life’s tough.
My fairmother is a friend of that particularly malicious headmistress. Lucky I went under Marianna. It was Dad’s decision in case I was a total disaster (which I so was) and Miss Mithswippe Mugwump started telling the tale at suppers. Maybe I could move to the mortal realm. Failing that, maybe I'll sell lilypads outside the 'Academy', for people to throw at Miss Mithswippe.