Back in the Nineties, Pulp's lyrics offered bleakly comic vignettes of working-class life. So it's no surprise to find the same strain of social realism in Jarvis Cocker's poetry; neither should it surprise anyone who was beguiled by the dark humour of Pulp's songs that he proves himself a competent poet, refreshing a well-used idea in a concise form.

There's an obvious nod to Pink Floyd's 'Another Brick in the Wall'. But Cocker's view of education here is ambivalent rather than dogmatically anarchic, with the repetition of 'may be' in the first two phrases. An element of sarcasm is suggested by the fall from the lofty tone of the first phrase, with its reference to the heritage of the building invoking tradition and continuity, to the blunt vernacular of the second, implying that the poet is aware of the gap between ideal and reality.

The central idea of the poem is introduced in the seventh line; the image of melting is set against the rigidity of 'walls', suggesting a fluidity and openness to 'your surroundings' not found inside an institution, and associated elementally with the liquid cider.

There's a clear link between the imagery of that act of individual defiance and an expansion of vision. It's captured neatly in the last three lines; a comical cry of exasperation of a particular kind of working-class parent, but containing the answer to its own rhetorical question: 'brains' (imagination, intelligence) can't be taught. The poem is an exhortation, then, to open your mind beyond an education system concerned only with ticking boxes, though whether he's necessarily advocating drinking cider at school as the best means remains oblique.