This book was a pleasant surprise. Having never read any of Danny King’s other works, I picked this solely on its quirky description – a reform school which teaches juvenile delinquent how to be BETTER criminals. Although I was initially concerned that tidbit would be a spoiler, it is included in the description on the copy I had, and pretty much right at the beginning it becomes clear what kind of school it is. One of my favorite parts – which I still chuckle over – is on the first day of the school, one of the students is told to empty his pockets in front of the class. He spills out drugs, cigarettes, a switchblade and pornographic playing cards. The teacher’s response is that he’s “clean”. The narrator’s response is something along the lines of “Clean?!?!? What the *#&%** are they looking for? Alien Embryos?” The dialog – although more off-color than my usual taste – is witty, intelligent and always original. King does an exceptional job developing the characters, and you quickly become invested in their welfare.

I listened to this title as an audiobook, and the British narration provided a unique component to the writing. It is based in London, and the students come from all walks and districts, and their accents as relayed by the audiobook proved a great bonus. Where dialect can sometimes be troublesome (or annoying) in print, the audiobook waded through all of it and created believable and surprisingly sympathetic characters. Highly Recommended. ( )

Hillarious! This cocky concoction of hormones & crime read a bit like a Fear & Loathing crossed with Tom Brown's School Days. Slightly surreal (in the way Enid Blyton mystery novels are, possible, but not very probable) - but very engaging & representatives of many staple stereotypical characters are presented in larger-than-life porportions.

I couldn't stop grinning after reading the bit about the football match, but I felt slightly cheated about the resolution of the ending - it felt a bit like a deus ex machina. ( )

While the small print warns School for Scumbags “is definitely not for kids”, the mixture of profanity, lively prose, amorality and unabashed egotism – leavened with just a little sentimentality – is bound to appeal to youngsters, as will the unredeemable anti-hero, ‘habitual teenage delinquent Wayne Banstead’.

Unfortunately the smutty, sacrilegious, laugh-out-loud humour of the initial chapters is not sustained, and what started as an obscene and frivolous criminal romp seems, ultimately, to be about to turn into a morality tale, resplendent with chastened underage criminals.

Regular readers of Danny Hill will not be fooled: Wayne Banstead and his fellows from the Gafin School for Misdirected Boys triumph over adversity and this gloriously irreverent story ends on an unrepentantly high note. ( )