“Yeah, we’re really going to carve up some powder,” says Chef, touching his nose.
“Pack your bags we’re heading to thredbo cunts” he adds, winking.
The apprentices shuffle awkwardly, unsure if they’ll be doing gack off a grubby pub toilet seat like last year or hitting the slopes as a team.
“Nah I’m just fucking with you guys, as if. Now get the fuck back to work.”
More to come.