Schoolmaster claims credit for all the UK’s entrepreneurship programmes

The headmaster of Melton Mowbray King George VII grammar school, known throughout the establishment as ‘Melton School’, has boldly claimed to be behind all the UK’s entrepreneurship in a report published recently entitled, ‘The Melton Phenomena: why we should be credited for all of the local entrepreneurs as well as the technology entrepreneurs throughout the UK and the wider world.’

The report makes interesting reading for entrepreneurs, academics, local planners, government officials, venture capitalists and advisors in the business support industry.

Of specific interest is the chapter stating at the beginning: ‘How our successful model and ideas are being copied (ripped off) by other schools and colleges, who are falsely claiming credits for the pioneering work on entrepreneurship carried out at Melton School, which spans centuries of history and world standing.’

The report, which was funded by the newly formed regional government of Rutland, goes further and states that other clusters are claiming credit in order to get huge government grants to further their flawed research and falsehoods. It adds that this is done as a pre-text of creating lots of local jobs for their local business support industry.

The Chilli (TC) had sent in its newly minted cub analyst to catch up with the headmaster (HM), Dr. Underwood (MA, Cantab) of Melton School, who was on his way to China and India as part of his world lecture tour sponsored by the local Pig Farmers Association, Dairy Produce Marketing Board and Microbrewery Trade associations.

TC: So how long has Melton School’s ‘The Gables school of Enterprise’ been teaching entrepreneurship?

HM: We don’t teach entrepreneurship

TC: (Taken, aback). Sorry? Did you say you don’t teach entrepreneurship?

HM: You cannot teach entrepreneurship. You can study entrepreneurship, like zoology, but you can’t teach someone how to be an entrepreneur.

TC: Please explain?

HM: How do you teach hunger, drive and passion? Not possible, is it?

TC: So what is the answer then?

HM: You have to breed entrepreneurs.

TC: How do you do that?

HM: It starts at a very early age, well before they even know whether they will be going to university or not.

TC: Interesting. Tell us how that is done?

HM: Look, I don’t want to give too much away here – it is our trade secret, honed over the centuries, that has produced people like Newton, Ferranti, Lumens, Sir Mark Allison, Lord Robert Harris (famous author of The Enigma Code), Sir Braithwaite, Neil Pritchard, Allison Lodge, Lord Kipper, and last but not least, His Honourable, Lord Willoughby, (the world’s most richest wheelie bin man, previously known as Mr Mazuri Sana).

TC: Why did Mazuri Sana change his name?

HM: You will have to ask him, but I suspect it is much easier to get into the lords with a name like Willoughby than Mazuri Sana.

TC: Did he have to pay for it?

HM: No need for it.

TC: What’s the secret?

HM: Only outsiders and dumb people pay upfront. Instead, you promise to place a big contract with someone’s dad, preferably someone from The Gables. They ring their friends, who take turns to ring the bell when the timing is right, a nod and wink, and before you can spell ‘ruddles’ you are in getting measured up in your new fancy frock. And it didn’t cost you a pretty penny, just normal commerce, although diverted slightly. If you don’t like cross-dressing, then recommend that you stay away from that lot.

TC: Going back to breeding entrepreneurship, how do you decide who is going to do what and who is going to attend Gables building?

HM: It starts with the parents: some have it, some don’t. When the parents first bring in their little blighters, they are given a choice. You can be either be famous or rich, but not both. In the old days, the vast majority went for the former, more academic subjects, as they already had some ‘dosh’ stacked away in a trust somewhere. But now, increasingly, with huge inheritance tax bills on the way and the old Scottish fellow rounding up all the loopholes, more and more people are opting for the latter, and deciding to send their sprogs to The Gables (soon to be renamed Mazuri Sana Willoughby School of Enterprise and Joviality)

TC: What happens to the ones who don’t make it to the Gables?

HM: Glad you asked me this. They simply complete their normal studies and we export them.

TC: You make them sound like some products.

HM: My dear, I have news for you: that is what they are. They come in as unfinished products, we polish them, do bit of swatting (programming), teach them how to pass the exams, and voila, they are ready for export.

TC: Where do you export them?

HM: All over the map: Cambridge, Oxford, Imperial, Bristol, Nottingham, and now increasingly IITs, much cheaper for the parents and much more fun, like in the old days. The others choose the enrichment route.

TC: So what happened to the non-academics, do they become rich?

HM: That’s what I just said. Are you going deaf, my dear?

TC: OK, they choose to go to Gables, but you said that you don’t teach them entrepreneurship. So what to do you teach them?

HM: We enable them to be hungry.

TC: Really? How astounding.

HM: That’s where the joviality part comes in. You have no doubt heard of the saying, you can take a horse to the water but you cannot make them drink it - not unless they are thirsty? Well, we use a similar technique: we make them hungry. So they lap every crumb of entrepreneurship you can throw at them.

TC: How?

HM: Now we’re really going into the depths of our methods. You see, we take all the food away from them. Before every lunch and dinner.

TC: Is that not very cruel? Maybe even against the law, somewhat?

HM: My dear, you still have a lot to learn. You have to be cruel to be kind.

TC: What happens next?

HM: You know those world famous entrepreneurs, Bill Gates, Michael Dell, Steve Jobs, (their pictures are adorned all over the Gables rooms). They couldn’t count a single academic bean between them. Complete flops, left college without a single paper to put on the wall or write on. Parents must have been terribly disappointed – at least until the money started flowing in.

TC: Go on.

HM: We stick matron’s picture next to all the rich entrepreneur’s pictures on the wall.

TC: What?

HM: You may think of the matron as an overfed, oversized, domineering beach whale with a shrieking sound, but she is our most revered secret weapon; the layers of body fat can be visualized as layers of pound notes.

TC: They don’t make pound notes anymore.

HM: Don’t be bloody belligerent. Why did you have to bring that up? They are leftovers from the tuck shop. Wait until I find out who hid all those notes under the counter, as we have lost a great deal on this.

TC: Interesting. So you try and create a brain association between the pound notes and matron’s body fat?

HM: Yes, this is part of our visualization exercise. Entrepreneurs from other schools don’t have a big enough vision. Once this is drummed into them, you are 80 percent there. Of course, we help them along with lashings of Ruddles beer.

TC: You mean you give them alcohol?

HM: No, that is against the law. Let’s say we leave a few cans lying around the cupboard and matron takes a big nap in the afternoon, so the students, being hungry, are naturally inclined to take some. Soon, becomes a habit.

TC: Then what happens?

HM: The visualization exercises take a whole new meaning.

TC: So how do you make them passionate?

HM: Please don’t write this part. Before the boys start getting an unhealthy interest in the matron, we expel them. This makes them passionate; they want something, and want it desperately. This will give them the drive to prove themselves, achieve something, change the world and make an impact. Don’t tell me you can teach this at your Carrefour sponsored Business school.

TC: You expel these pupils before they have a chance to learn the basics? Like maths, physics and so on?

HM: No Need

TC: Surely basic maths and English must be a pre-requisite before being an entrepreneur?

HM: That is the last thing you need. All that spread-sheet bashing dulls their heads and defocuses them; all those numbers in their little heads, they get digressed into business models, share options and such like, takes the edge off the passionate and hunger bit.

TC: So how do they cope with accounts, cheque books etc.?

HM: This forces them to learn about teamwork and creating their own Gunaxi, in our case we call it ‘menaxi’. Many of our upper school pupils go onto become accountants, bankers, marketers: you name it, we have someone from our upper school out there doing it. You can always call on their help. This is where the school’s motto and culture developed over the years comes in.

TC: Which is?

HM: Always be kind and helpful to your fellow pupils, as you never know when and where you will need their help again? That’s how Mazuri Sana did it. He still can’t add? If you ask him about his profits or gross margins, he will refer you to his advisors in the city.

TC: So how did he (now upgraded to Lord Willoughby) build his multi-million pound empire?

HM: Most things in life are very simple, remember that. When Mazuri got booted out for looking at the matron in an undesirable sort of way, he was shell shocked. Not wanting to tell his parents what happened, he had started working at the local supermarket (builds character) and started hoarding food in case he lost the job. But the problem is, his room is too small, so his rations are outside on bin bags. Obviously, they get mistaken for rubbish bags and hence get taken away by the dustbin man (trash collector, for our American cousins). So Mazuri, in a rage (remember passion), goes and complains to the borough council, makes a note of the people he has met and gets back home. We teach them to always be on the lookout for opportunities – you never know when it is going to be staring at you right in your face. A few of the boys book a holiday to Germany on those cheap weekend coach trips with pensioners. One of the boys cancels out at last minute, as they feel sorry for Mazuri, they invite him to tag along. While in Germany, Mazuri notices this big green plastic container with lids on top and two small wheels, guesses what his ration storage problem solved, decides to buy a couple, and convinces the coach driver to let him bring them home.

TC: So he identified an unmet need.

HM: No, he was just looking to put his rations in them, dustbin man arrives, same thing, all over again and all rations gone. In those days, dustbin men used to haul and carry the bins on their shoulders. Mazuri always felt sorry for them. So he grabs the opportunity, goes to one of them, shows them a picture of how these green bins can be modified so workmen do not have to carry the load on their shoulders, and voila. To cut a long story short.

TC: How did he convince the borough council to buy the wheelies from him?

HM: He didn’t have to. Remember, we don’t teach them finance, sales and marketing, but just goals and vision setting. The rest all falls into place in good time.

TC: So what happened next?

HM: The workmen all go on strike, demanding that the borough council replaces all the metal bins with these big plastic ones. That way, they only have to collect it once a week, instead of twice, no back breaking lifting.

TC: So they did the selling for Mazuri?

HM: Now you are sounding like one of our Gables students.

TC: So how did he finance the operation?

HM: Where there is opportunity, there is a way. Armed with an order for 200 wheelie bins for a trial order, he goes to his old school chum, whose dad works at the bank. He shouts: “You Oink. You used to eat all my sandwiches. Now it is payback time. Get your dad to help me out or else.”

HM: Oink, feeling very embarrassed for taking sandwiches away from a poor African boy, feels obliged and helps out. He feels so guilt-ridden now that he gets his dad’s friend, a lawyer to draw up a proper contract. Mazuri, armed with a bank loan, a trial order from the local borough, and professionally written contract, flies off to said German supplier and plonks it on their desk. Not having seen such a large order before, and excited about future orders, they agree to his terms.

TC: Which are?

HM: We teach our boys not to cave in at the last minute. It’s all about persevering. Mazuri, for sheer bravado, walks out of the office and heads for his hotel.

TC: Wasn’t that a bit risky?

HM: Yes, but wait for this. Mazuri creates the impression that he is shopping around for another deal, although he is not. Said German supplier ups the offer, and makes him exclusive agent for the whole of the UK. He still walks out the next day not knowing the details or anything, responds £10 (ten pounds), as that what he was earning per week stacking shelves at the supermarket, he thought they wanted to employ him, so he stated his weekly wages.

TC: Shouldn’t he be asking for more, like a 20 percent rise or something like that?

HM: I am losing all my faith in you now. Listen, we don’t teach them about percentages, and anyway it is not important. It’s the psychology that is more important. Anyway Mazuri flies home without signing anything, as he didn’t know he had to sign anything.

TC: So he nearly lost the contract.

HM: Said German supplier flies to the UK, meets Mazuri and agrees the figure of £10 very reluctantly. Mazuri signs the paperwork with the pen his poor mother had given him.

TC: So I still don’t see how he made his millions.

HM: You see, said German supplier had taken Mazuri’s reluctance to sign paperwork as a signal that he wasn’t happy with the terms, but in reality, Mazuri was looking for his special pen with which to sign this auspicious document. The said German supplier was worried that one of their competitors was about sign up Mazuri. Now, every time you order a wheelie bin or loose a wheelie bin anywhere in the UK, Mazuri receives a £10 agent’s fee for every one of them. He has been receiving this for over 10 years, and will continue to do so the rest of his life. Of course, we have to protect him, should any harm come to him, as there are a lot of people dependent on his generosity.

TC: Wow!

HM: And if you asked Mazuri how much he earns a week, or month, or how much is in his accounts, he couldn’t tell you.

TC: Why?

HM: Because he never understood maths, it confuses him. His school chums look after that part and other part of his business and all because they used to nick his sandwiches. So now they have to be good to him, otherwise Mazuri’s generosity can evaporate very rapidly.

TC: I am impressed. So what would you say his skills are?

HM: Wrong question, irrelevant. He divides his time between his various charities, trusts, and helping his fellow countrymen get a decent education.

TC: Hence the re-naming of The Gables as Mazuri Sana Willoughby School of Enterprise and Joviality.

HM: Yes, we honour his name, and the best bit is the joviality part. You have to have fun being an entrepreneur, otherwise there’s no point doing it.

In part II of this extensive interview, HM will tell us about how Melton School was responsible for the beginning of the semiconductor industry (something to do with pork pies, senior common rooms, fat deposition equipment and etching different sized pies, the special gel used for encapsulation (the clear bit), assembly and transportation techniques. Differences between Ruddles and port wines. Also how Melton plans to be the world’s alternative energy centre leveraging off the local microbrewery industry.

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