Diary of Mr. Jenkins, music teacher:
The McNamara boy came to see me today. Told me he wanted to be a singer. I wondered whether his clod-hopping bellow might be better suited elsewhere - Ms. Phillips' foghorn class maybe, but the sarcasm was lost on him. Suggested innumerable other possible art forms for him to massacre, but to no avail. Must crush this sprout of creativity! Also must watch his relationship with the Martin lad, he's bad enough to infect Chris' mind.
Played me his song today. Mentioned he'd been listening to a lot of Richard Marx. Threw up a little in my mouth. Listened, and when it got to the line "You should never fight your feelings / when your very bones believe it", laughed so hard they had to give me oxygen. Once recovered, I clipped him round the ear and gave him lines ("No more godawful clichés").
Disaster. The boy has formed a band. They're called Embrace and, remarkably, there seems no end to their inability. Far beyond pianos, they've pushed the boat of crapness way beyond the jetty of reasonability, enlisting the help of the school choir. Detention just won't do it, I'm going to have to write to the boy's parents...