Loosely related pearoast - look, it happened in the assembly hall, OK?
One Christmas at school, we were to have a fete, the centrepiece of which would be a Santa's Grotto in the assembly hall. Our usually scary headmaster would dress up as St. Nick, and various younger siblings etc could be taken in to visit him.

The grotto was a large chicken-wire and paper mache affair, built on the stage usually occupied by the teachers, and us fifth-years were given the task of constructing it. One lunchtime, as we were about to apply the final layer of pasty newspaper to the inside of the grotto, one bright lad realised that the sack of newspapers we'd been given included quite a few copies of The Sun... and so, inevitably, when Santa entered the grotto for the first time, he found that the entire inner surface had been papered with Page 3 tits. It was a thing of beauty, almost hypnotic, with bulging mams literally filling your vision wherever you looked. Like a peek into Peter Stringfellow's mind.

Unfortunately we were forced to paint over it before the tinies arrived.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 14 Jun 2013, 12:00, Reply)