It seems Labour's dream of a working class Einstein isn't coming true. Even though, as a patent clerk with no university education, Einstein could be considered working class anyway, Labour's attempts to produce another don't seem to be working.
They put this down to poor performance at school, which means their pets aren't getting into university because - shock - those terrible elitist universities expect their students to know stuff, and the callous lecturers don't care at all about how the students feel about this.
What it means is that those working class kids are not being properly educated. I was, as were millions of others and many of us did get into university and escape the council estates, the mining villages and the dead-end streets. Yes, it's necessary to have some intelligence to begin with, and yes, it's necessary to want to learn, but most of all it's necessary to have teachers who are really trying to teach important and useful information rather than who goes on top in a same-sex relationship and whether polar bears feel sad when icebergs drift away.
So they're going to fix it, yes? No more teaching to the test, no more worthless subjects, no more boxes to tick. Children will be presented with real information, useful information, stuff the universities want them to know. Yes? Then we'll get more intelligent kids coming out of school and more intelligent unversity students and perhaps even another Einstein. That's what they're going to do, surely?
Alan Milburn, the former Labour Cabinet minister, who led the study, will call on universities to make allowances for pupils from poor homes by admitting them with lower grades.
Excuse me. I have to go and bang my head against something for a while.
It's the only way to fit in to the society Labour is creating. Knock every brain cell into constant stupour.
Tonight, I have barley wine. It's not as strong as it used to be but when I'm finished the cans I bought, I might have an intelligence level low enough to pass the Milburn Polytechnic entrance exam.
On second thoughts, no, I'll need to crack open the Laphroiag too.
You know, when the Idea Light comes on above a Labour minister's head, the room actually gets darker.