McNulty looked as if he had been slapped on the end of his nose with a rancid kipper. “What..?” he stuttered. I thought he was going to have a fit. We all cracked up laughing, and in a small class situation that is disastrous. McNulty could see his control of the class collapsing (and probably visualized gangs of youths roaming the streets if this rebellion wasn’t crushed). The final straw, when McNulty’s natural sarcasm at what pressing social obligations William could have had to keep him too busy for three consecutive nights to do McNulty’s assignment was when meek, mild, polite William told him that he ‘couldn’t be arsed to do it’.

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