Sam Snort is intrigued and excited by the suggestion of his friend and colleague, Michael D. Higgins, that there should be more rock'n'roll on the school curriculum, with the kiddies being educated in the finer points of video, film and contemporary media in general.

Sam Snort has for long advocated a broadening of the curriculum in areas related to rock'n'roll, and offered to take it upon himself to institute some of these changes.

As an immediate priority, there is my "Sex In The Classroom" proposal, which aims for a realistic approach to sex education in Irish schools.

Up until recent times, what sex education existed was, to any sane person, a pile of fucking shite, involving clearly disturbed people telling healthy young adults that the best thing they could do would be to keep their trousers zipped up, their knickers on and thus, generally, to behave in a "responsible" manner.

"Responsible" in this context meant not having sex at all - whereas a truly responsible programme would be more on the lines of what Sam Snort has in mind.

APPALLING DICKHEAD

This would involve me visiting the classrooms of Ireland, and performing practical demonstrations of a range of erotic arts and crafts, taking time out, of course, to reassure the males among the pupils that they need not be discouraged just because their peckers will never rise to Snortian heights.

True, the overall thrust of even the best pupils' sexual performance will never approximate the Snortian agility. However I say, if you want to learn something, you learn it by looking at the best, by studying under the Master, which, in this case, is me!

Now, Michael D's suggestion encourages me to think in terms of a more comprehensive package, an all-in programme of "Sex and Drugs and Rock'n'Roll in the Classroom."

The Drugs part will consist of a basic introduction to everyday narcotics, with advice on where to get them, the telephone numbers of the most reliable dealers, and a price-list outlining the current, most competitive rates.

It would be irresponsible of me to allow our young people to emerge from school, ravenous for drugs, and not knowing the first thing about them. That way, they will only get into trouble, possibly paying exorbitant prices for a gramme of Odlum's flour which could make them very ill if combined with genuine marching powder and ingested through the naval cavities.

I would encourage pupils to start their own business, perhaps growing a bit of cannabis in the school laboratory, and selling it to their mates in the playground, thus getting a feel for the stuff which will stand them in good stead if they choose to become serious dope-guzzlers when they grow up. It will also, of course, inculcate in them the spirit of the entrepreneur - the quality which is, we all agree, so lacking in Irish society.

The subject of rock'n'roll must also be afforded a root and branch approach. There must be many thousands of students who have picked up unsavoury habits in the home, where they spend their formative years surrounded by shitty albums played on a crap stereo.

It will be damnably hard to reverse the damage caused by freqeuent exposure to the works of every appalling dickhead from Frank Patterson to Jim Reeves to Andrew Lloyd Webber, but Sam Snort is willing to give it a lash in the national interest.

SCHOOLYARD HUMOUR

The central tenet of the Rock'n'Roll Studies course, is, in a way, staring you in the face.

Shakespeare may be the core material in English Literature, but when it comes to rock'n'roll, you should look no further than the Collected Writings of Sam Snort (with a forward by Saddam Hussein).

The idea of the Snortian muse being compulsory reading in all schools is a delightful one, and I hereby pledge that all of the huge royalties which will accrue will be ploughed into responsible projects of the type which I have outlined in the Drugs' programme.

Unlike that compulsory Irish shit, which failed because the kids just could not get their rocks off reading about some arsehole refereeing a Gaelic match, or a bunch of old crones reminiscing about fishing disasters, the Snort material will be compulsive as well as compulsory.

Whereas most of the authors of Irish books have been dead for a long time, and were mostly a shower of pricks the best day they were in it, students will be able to meet the author of the Snort texts, and even give him a good blow-job if they so require.

This will make their studies come alive in an invigorating way, and give rise to some charming schoolyard humour, with pupils saying things like, "I did well in the written exam, but I did even better in the oral."

Together we can make it work. Our schools will be cool, and Sam Snort, the Great Educator, will be showered with Honourary Doctorates with which to wipe his perfectly formed arse.

PERSONAL AFFRONT

Meanwhile, I despair of declining standards in the Babylon that once was Hollywood, when I read about the furore caused by Heide Fleiss' offer to reveal the names of her clients.

For fuck's sake, we are only talking about a few nights on the town with a bunch of fun-loving call girls here, not the rape and pillage of the Americas.

Various studio bosses have been making an exhibition of themselves by denying that they ever used Ms. Fleiss' excellent services, whereas Sam Snort would regard it as a huge personal affront if he did not appear in such an important social register.

What better way is there for a seriously rich Hollywood mover and shaker to spend his moolah than on babes? Particularly such a retinue of fun gals as toiled for Heidi?

I would be proud to be in her little black book, on as many pages as possible, in luminous purple ink.

In fact I am proud to be in it. And will remain, proudly...

Dr. Samuel J. Snort