Lunch break

Monday lunchtime

I am sitting in the staff room talking to Mr Seers and Berta, the arts teacher.

“The Head is clamping down on everything,” mused Mr Seers. “She’s making us actively check what novels our students are reading.” He took a big gulp of coffee. “I have been told that one of the boys should have the next sci-fi book he brings in confiscated.’

Berta shakes her head, “she has no imagination and therefore thinks no one else should either.”

“What’s her beef with you Annie?” Asked Mr Seers. “You consistently get great grades from your classes.”

“My boobs are too big!” She snorts, “so I have to wrap up in a curtain incase a first year gets a hard-on.”

“They’re teenage boys,” tutted Mr Seers, “they get hard-ons when the wind changes direction.”

Berta changes the topic, “did you hear that Bob Bellstone has been approached for the county cricket team?”

“Bob Bellstone?” Asked Mr Seers. “Remind me,”

“Played on the football team when in year 11,” prompted Berta. “Always did the fitness class of a lunchtime.”

Mr Seers shook his head, “I lose track of the Jocks,”

“…did reasonably well in Science.” Said Bert, “Annie, something you know about Bob Bellstone.”

“Works in the Looking Glass pub,” she said, Mr Seers was none the wiser, “…erm used to skive French… erm has a big dick, wore red shoes.”

“Red shoes… got him!” Mr Seers and Berta exchanged glances. “…he… has… a big… dick?”

Annie flusters for a moment, “During the Summer holidays I went on a hen-do and he was hired as a stripper.”

“Ah ok,” said Berta. “was hoping for some gossip.”

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