Of all the different types of pointless letters that I’ve seen, I have to say that “someone getting mad about a situation they have completely invented in their own head” is a particular favourite and this effort is definitely at the “chef kissing fingers” end of the spectrum.

Bonus points for the extra flourish of anger at the end there that someone working in an office might have a carpet. A fucking CARPET, if you please.

We’re the purple people, and we Have lost our own identity. We follow every rigid rule, Like little children back in school.

Our brains are in a purple jar, We’ll never jump or travel far. We tick the boxes, one by one, And make sure teaching isn't fun.

The "Ofsted chump" is our best mate, He loves the data on our plate. We don’t need brains or "auto-pilot," We’d rather have a purple skylight.

We have no soul, we have no flair, We just breathe in the purple air. A "maverick" would make us cry, And "Highway Codes" just pass us by.

So if you see us at the bar, (We probably won't get that far), Just laugh at our brand-new veneer, While experts drink a proper beer.