The Hard-faced bastard
This inspector is education's answer to Reggie Kray. He positively revels in the authoritarian approach, and believes he has failed if he hasn't managed to intimidate most of the staff. He refuses to smile and believes that eye-contact is a sign of weakness. The children will very likely be afraid of this individual, possibly mistaking him for a NAZI prison guard, or an insurance salesman. However, that won't worry him at all, as he won't lower himself to speak to any of them. Be warned though, you may be unfortunate enough to witness him conversing with the many voices in his head during quiet moments when he believes he is alone. If you should here him utter the words "I think the time has come mother" ... RUN!
The Inspecting Granny
Being recently retired, this lady is filling in a few hours between Tupperware parties. She is under the illusion that teachers actually welcome Ofsted, and will enter the school with a warm smile and a home-knitted cardigan. She comes from an age when teachers could find time to run after-school clubs and prepare breath-taking productions, and when the closest anyone came to a numeracy hour was working out the change at the tuck-shop. By the third day of the inspection expect her smile to have disappeared somewhat when she realises that her many helpful comments regarding crochet and cottage loaf making are likely to be a little redundant.
This devious person will spend the duration of the inspection convincing everybody that she is "on their side" . Comments such as "it's really a partnership" and "we're here to support, not to judge" will flow from the lips like a warm, friendly fountain of empathy. Within minutes of entering the school, she will be on first-name terms with everyone, and will make a special point of having a friendly chat with the caretaker in full view of the rest of the staff. Her warm understanding smile appears to say "I am a thoroughly honest person - you can trust me". Then, away from the eyes of the staff, she will tear apart every minute of what has been witnessed, and the integrity of every member of staff will be questioned. Be warned, this inspector has less dignity than Peter Stringfellow's hairdresser.
It is quite likely that this clever-dick has not stepped foot in a school since he was thrown out of his local comprehensive at the age of 15 for setting fire to the headteacher. However, do not fear, this won't stop him from feeling fully qualified to judge the level of success of every lesson he observes. He feels that he is slightly demeaning himself entering into the world of education, believing that most teachers are work-shy scroungers who could learn a lesson or two from the cut-throat business world from which he occasionally emerges. He was reluctantly dragged into his parents' business at the age of eighteen, and having had a fluke win on the football pools in 1987 believes he is your town's answer to Richard Branson.
This humble moron believes that it is his professional duty to criticise every single thing you do (so long as it is within his boundaries of understanding). He feels obliged to make suggestions about all aspects of your job, from the manner in which you call out the register, to the type of gerbil food you buy. He won't listen (his ears stopped working long ago), so don't even bother trying to discuss anything with him; he will be far too busy planning how to tell you that the height of your clock is totally inappropriate, or the pile on your carpet is the wrong grade. You may well get away with serious misdemeanours, such as standing a child in the corner balancing an I- Mac on his head, or insisting that the children share one copy of Tess of the D'Urbervilles between thirty-two, but if you should prepare a newsletter using an "ugly font", or use a 2H pencil instead of an HB when filling in an official form, be warned - he will spot it!