FIGURES just out show that fewer than half of the nation’s kids are leaving school with five or more good GCSEs.

And . . . who cares? Because almost nothing they learned to get those GCSEs will ever be useful in their adult lives.

Cosines. Algebra. Cricket. William-bloody-Shakespeare.

And what happens when you put some potassium permanganate in a beaker of water? Who cares?

I spent five years of my life learning to speak French, but I never got beyond “the pen of my aunt” or “where is the railway station”? But by speaking English slowly and loudly when I’m in France, I’ve always got by.

So I’ve been wondering. If big school is a waste of time — and for millions, it is — why not teach kids to read and write and then, when they get to the age of 13, put them into the jobs market.

They’re young and fit and agile so that’s good for bosses. And they would be earning when they’re young. Which is when you need money most of all.

Then, when they reach the age of 60, they can go to school. I’m 63 and I’d love to learn to speak French now. And I’m not alone.

In a recent poll, more than half of adults said they would be fairly or very keen to learn a new language.

And there’s more. You could have woodworking lessons so you can fix up that old ­rocking chair. And maybe learn to play the piano.

When you’re 13, you just want a vape and some vodka, so you aren’t interested in grammar.

But when you’re 60, it’d be handy to understand what a comma is for, so you can write that book, you’ve, been, thinking about.

I’d love to go to school now and learn about geology. I wasn’t even remotely interested in rocks when I was a kid.

Millstone grit outcrops were only useful for hiding behind when having a crafty fag. But now, I’d happily spend all day learning about earthquakes.

And history. When I was a teenager I didn’t give a stuff about Henry VIII or any of his wives.

But now I want to know what was going through his head. Apart from a big dose of syphilis, obviously.

Ever since the beginning of civilisation, we’ve had it in our heads that school is what’s needed to prepare kids for life. But today, surely, we can see it does no such thing.

And that it should be used to prepare older people for their retirement.

Because it’s much better to spend the autumn of our lives making walking sticks and learning Coldplay chords than sitting on an inconti-chair waiting to see who takes over from Holly Willoughby.

Plod’s sorry squad

I’VE always scoffed at the idea that modern-day inflatable ladies are extremely realistic.

But this week, one of them managed to fool the police for 31 hours.

A walker called plod to say they’d found a dead body in the woods.

And for very nearly a day and a half, the constabulary’s finest minds combed the scene before realising that what they’d actually found was a “dirty and overused” sex doll.

So off they went to knock a 13-year-old boy off his bicycle, having mistaken his brightly coloured plastic water pistol for an actual gun.

I realise that the qualifications for becoming a policeman or a policewoman or policemanwoman are no longer as stringent as they once were, but surely “functioning eyes” are pretty important in that line of work.

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THE Welsh parliament has decided to ban people from watching GB News on government premises.

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It says it doesn’t agree with the channel’s views.

What views? I thought all the presenters had been sacked.

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THE new Amazon drones which will deliver your parcel in a matter of hours are now ready to become operational.

Good. Because the people-based system we have now is useless.

I received a text this week from a delivery company to say that their driver – a chap called “Arshdeep” – was unable to deliver a package.

This happens all the time. Even though there are rarely fewer than 20 people knocking around on the farm at any given moment.

I think what they meant to say is that their driver couldn’t be arshed to come up the farm drive.

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SOME people who call themselves scientists say that if you only eat red meat twice a week, you will still die in agony from Type 2 diabetes. 

They say that it’s better if you eat tofu, beans and nuts instead.

But is it? Because you’ll live a miserable life in a cloud of your own methane then die in agony of something else.

Paw excuse for an ornament

A HOST of celebrities including Sir Ranulph Fiennes and Ricky Gervais are calling on the Government to ban the importation of lion’s paws.
You read that right.

It’s an actual thing, apparently – to have some furry feet on your mantelpiece.

But in the same way that Morris Dancing is a thing, it’s not necessarily something any sane person would do.

Lions are now critically endangered in southern Africa. Tribal leaders there have cows to demonstrate their wealth and will shoot anything that preys on them.

So don’t add to the problem by buying body parts. Or I’ll make it a thing to turn you into a hat stand.

Can the beans recipe

PEOPLE were amazed this week when Heinz launched a recipe for cooking a tin of baked beans.

They explained that the tin should be shaken before opening, that you should use a stainless steel pan, that the tomato sauce should not be brought to the boil and that the butter on the toast should be unsalted.

Well you can do it that way. But my recipe is better.

Empty the beans into whatever pan you like, add ten drops of Tabasco sauce, some dried chillies and a knob of butter the size of a baby’s fist.

Then, while you swallow two headache pills to get rid of the hangover that caused you to want beans on toast in the first place, nuke them for ten minutes until they are all mushy.

The toast should be made from sourdough bread because, poncy though it may be, it’s better than a normal loaf, and the butter should definitely be salted.

I’m very fastidious about this but not as fastidious as I am about bacon sandwiches.

To make one of these, you cook the bacon till it’s hot but still soft and then you place it, and all the grease from the pan, between two pieces of bread from a sliced white loaf.

No sauces are needed and no frills. And you won’t even need the headache pills because a proper bacon sarnie – the Embassy Cafe in Notting Hill does them better than anywhere else – can cure a hangover all on its own.

Phone’s gone a bit Pete Tsong

EVER since I came back from Zimbabwe three weeks ago, my phone has been displaying everything in some kind of African language that doesn’t show up on any translation app.

Some say it’s Shona. Others reckon it’s Tsonga. And I don’t care because I’m stuck.

And living in constant fear that something meant for a friend group on WhatsApp appears by mistake on Twitter.