Fill in the gap with one of the words: clever, disappointing, evil, funny, irritating, mysterious, predictable, slow-paced, unexpected, unimaginative: 1.The beginning of "The Trap" is , showing an ordinary morning in the personnages' lives.
2."The Twin Peaks" is the most film in my life. Nobody still knows who killed Laura Palmer.
3.The ending or "Return to Me" is absolutely . There is a wedding party, but not the one of Bob and Grace.
4.If you just look at the mentalist, you will never believe that he is really and can understand more than a person tells the police.
5.Mr. Collins is a very personnage. His comments make Lizzy feel either angry or uneasy.
6.I like old comedies where people with serious faces do things.
7.The ending was quite . After all their adventures they could only fall in love with each other.
8.The playwright is absolutely . His characters do nothing but walk and talk.
9.Thanks to his black clothes, Professor Snape looks from the very beginning.
10."The Phantom of the Opera" is quite . You can never guess what will happen next minute.
Once upon a time there was a horse whose name was Reginald.Every morning he was delivering milk, he usually met his friend Blackie, who was a little black dog.
Reginald didn’t want to be a milkman’s horse.He wanted to be a racehorse and win the Derbi. And Blackie, who had rather short legs, wanted to be able to run very fast, like a hound.
One afternoon they were sitting in Reginald’s stable.Suddenly Blackie said that he had, an idea.
«Why do we not eat coal?» — he said. «Trains eat coal a run fast.»
They thought about this for a long time, and at last Reginald said: «Let’s try it,»
So they went down to the coal cellar. They were going to take some some coal, when Mrs Marry, the landlady, came in.
«What! You are stealing my coal!» — she began to cry, and she picked up a piece of coal and threw it at them.They ran away. They had never run so fast in their lives before.
Just then the Mayor was looking out of the window.
«Oh, that horse can run fast I’m sure it can win the Derby, look at the dog; it’s a real hound I’ll give them each a medal.» And he did.
Contents
The Reader of Books Mr Wormwood, the Great Car Dealer
The Hat and the Superglue
The Ghost Arithmetic The Platinum-Blond Man Miss Honey
The Trunchbull The Parents Throwing the Hammer
Bruce Bogtrotter and the Cake
Lavender The Weekly Test
The First Miracle The Second Miracle Miss Honey’s Cottage
Miss Honey’s Story
The Names The Practice
The Third Miracle A New HomeThe Reader of Books
It’s a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.
Some parents go further. They become so blinded by adoration they manage to convince themselves their child has qualities of genius.
Well, there is nothing very wrong with all this. It’s the way of the world. It is only when the parents begin telling us about the brilliance of their own revolting offspring, that we start shouting, "Bring us a basin! We’re going to be sick!"
School teachers suffer a good deal from having to listen to this sort of twaddle from proud parents, but they usually get their
own back when the time comes to write the end-of-term reports. If I were a teacher I would cook up some real scorchers for the children of doting parents. "Your son Maximilian", I would write, "is a total wash- out. I hope you have a family business you can push him into when he leaves school because he sure as heck won’t get a job anywhere else." Or if I were feeling lyrical that day, I might write, "It is a curious truth that grasshoppers have their hearing-organs in the sides of the abdomen. Your daughter Vanessa, judging by what she’s learnt this term, has no hearing-organs at all."
I might even delve deeper into natural history and say, "The periodical cicada spends six years as a grub underground, and no more than six days as a free creature of
sunlight and air. Your son Wilfred has spent six years as a grub in this school and we are still waiting for him to emerge from the chrysalis." A particularly poisonous little girl might sting me into saying, "Fiona has the same glacial beauty as an iceberg, but unlike the iceberg she has absolutely nothing below the surface." I
think I might enjoy writing end-of-term reports for the stinkers in my class. But enough of that. We have to get on.
Occasionally one comes across parents who take the opposite line, who show no interest at all in their children, and these of course are far worse than the doting ones. Mr and Mrs Wormwood were two such parents. They had a son called Michael and a daughter called Matilda, and the parents
looked upon Matilda in particular as nothing more than a scab. A scab is something you have to put up with until the time comes when you can pick it off and flick it away. Mr and Mrs Wormwood looked forward enormously to the time when they could pick their little daughter off and flick her away, preferably into the next county or even further than that.
It is bad enough when parents treat ordinary children as though they were scabs and bunions, but it becomes somehow a lot worse when the child in question is extraordinary, and by that I mean sensitive and brilliant. Matilda was both of these things, but above all she was brilliant. Her mind was so nimble and she was so quick to learn that her ability should have been obvious even to the most half-witted of
parents. But Mr and Mrs Wormwood were both so gormless and so wrapped up in their own silly little lives that they failed to notice anything unusual about their daughter.