Teacher:
What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No! Poems, no less! Poems, everybody!
[class laughs]
Teacher: The laddie reckons himself a poet!
[reads poem]
Teacher: "Money get back / I'm all right, Jack / Keep your hands off my stack / New car / Caviar / Four star daydream / Think I'll buy me a football team." Absolute rubbish, laddie.
[whacks him with a ruler, growls at Pink]
Teacher: Get on with your work.
