Blimey, I ne'er realised the depths to which these young trollops will stoop to get their hands on a lads lunchbox.
A tug of war may not exactly be fair on the fairer sex, being somewhat less muscular than blokes. Apart from them of the dumping of lard into beer persuasion*. But diversionary techniques of a mammarian nature?
Foul, foul play indeed!
There's all the boys, tugging away, when along jogs Nubile Teacher in her tight white top, all bouncing busoms in slo-mo causing the lads to drop their rope and offering up the change for the girls to snaffle their lunchboxes.
'snot fair - I never had any teachers like that!
Let alone girls grabbing me lunchbox.
Still - could be worse. The thought of hiring the vast bloated paedophilic Jabbaesque chemistry teacher to lumber past in a banana hammock in order to distract the girls just to get a ham and piccalilly sarnie and some Hedgehog crisps is more than enough to put the frighteners on.
Urgh. Unfettered bouncing moobs...
* FAT IN MY WHITBREAD (WHITBREAD BEING A FAMOUS BEER OOP NORF)
