I don't know why you would think this. Possibly because you're all a bunch of horrible little northern gobshites, and everytime you open your mouths I want to laugh at your ghastly working-class accents?
Just a thought.
Dear Year 8,
We make cubes out of cats because I am the mad teacher with mad hair.
Dear Year 10,
I don't really want to teach you tomorrow. This is why I'm playing on Livejournal.