To be fair, the friend seemed to be saying something, but he was a 5-year-old with a frontal lisp and an r-deviance, complicated by a refusal to phonate (although, I'm sure a dog could have heard him), so it was the same as not helping. Teachers were repeating what they thought they heard: Hunter? Turner? Brigston? (Fer rills. Brigston.) You get the idea. Also, to be fair, it wasn't immediately obvious to me that the 'friend' getting the 3rd degree actually had any previous acquaintance with the visitor at all, but was maybe just unfortunate enough to be sitting next to him before the investigation began.
This went on much, much too long. Kids were getting nervous and bored, Sunbeams began to wander the room and lie about on the floor. There was so much squirming, 25% of the panties in the room were visible. (Lots of Dora the Explorer).
Tommy, meanwhile, is sitting next to me (also, at 3, nominally a Sunbeam, but refuses to go anywhere near his class, and got kicked out of the 4B class, where he sat next to cousin Claire), but I am unable to stop him before he yells into the escalating chaos:
Hey! He looks like a Larry.
Most of the teachers giggled into their hands, but I saw lots of kids nodding to each other, like, sure, why not? LARRY!
Which somehow drew the interrogation to a rapid close. We sang the Hello Song to 'Larry', who, looking stricken, went to find his seat right after We're glad you came our way. Soon thereafter, he burst into tears and got hauled out.
Junior Primary is the best. But not when you're the chorister.
(I had that gig, once. After church is over, you need a Snickers bar, a Unisom, and a nap. After that, you'll be mostly recovered, but your left eye might still twitch until Wednesday afternoon.)