Josh Widdicombe

You've got one lad commentating like it's match of the day.

Someone else shouting, smashes head in like she's in the UFC.

And everyone's absolutely buzzing to see this exclusive event right in the corridor.

Oh, my word.

And in the middle of all of it, one of our teachers, let's call her Miss Smith, she was actually a maths teacher, but also helped out in PE, which in hindsight makes this whole thing even more fitting.

She was already known for being a bit emotionally fragile.

I mean, this woman cried in lessons.

Not like end of term emotional speech crying, just like full on Tuesday afternoon breakdowns.

Anyway, she absolutely lost it.

She's got the new PE teacher, Mr. Mallard, backed into a corner outside the canteen and she's absolutely battering him with a blue plastic cricket bat.

So Mr. Mallard's getting smashed by Mrs. Smith, full on whacking him like a gangster who's owed money.

Teachers eventually pile in to break it up.

Miss Smith is in absolute hysterics, sobbing, screaming the words.

Mr. Mallard looks completely shell-shocked, like he'd just come out of the trenches.

Then both of them disappear.

A couple of days go by, no sign of either.

Rumours start flying.

Obviously, when Mr. Mallard comes back, it turns out Miss Smith had been having an affair with him.

Not only that, she'd left her husband thinking they were going to ride off in the sunset together.

Romance, passion, a shared love of sports halls.