When I first started teaching I had a job in a very poor Glasgow school. (I loved it!) In those days, only one person arrived to inspect us. The first teacher to get wind of his appearance sent a pupil round to alert the rest of us. I was rather bemused when a breathless lad burst into my room and whispered cryptically in my ear, "Miss! Miss! H.M.I.!!!"
But the Inspector was a gem. Very kindly, and sympathetic to our difficulties with the deprivation of our pupils. And not in the least intimidating.
He watched my lesson, then asked the children to sing him a little song. They chose, "Allee, ballee, allee ballee bee, sittin' on yer mammy's knee, Greetin' fer a wee baubie, tae buy some Coulter's candy!" This was Chinese to me (hadn't learned Glasgae yet) but I smiled benignly, and he departed with a cheery wave.

Contrast that with the team of about twenty Ofsted idiots in the huge Middle School in Norwich, who stood and watched me on playground duty clutching my cold coffee cup. What did they expect me to do? Teach the Theory of Relativity while the 400 pupils played?
They also opened all my cupboards and solemnly wrote on their clipboards. ("Rather dusty!" ?)
Another established himself in the large school library for the entire day (what a cushy job!) and recorded every child that came in, and every book that was borrowed or returned. (Er...why?)

After all these shenanigans, I was what my Irish mother would have called 'torrollee dessgusted' !