The Flying Physio Room…Ep LXXI DH

The legend that is Darren Harry has returned with The Flying Physio Room…Ep LXXI

Monday 5 September….12:56….overcast yet muggy…a challenging wardrobe day…

The clouds of dust from the gravelled car park finally evaporated…the comings and goings of the morning dissipating…

Muyles sat at his desk. The sphygmomanometer wrapped around his arm was uncomfortable but a necessity after Saturday. His face had become so crimson, flights at city airport were grounded as aircraft were attracted to it…but who could blame him. Muyles pushed his plate of haggis away, untouched. Kev knew things were bad when the gaffer didn’t touch his haggis.

“Calm down, calm down gaffer…its been n’ gone. Nutin’ we can do about it now lad” Kev offered…

Muyles was cracking his knuckles “Its just nee right Kev…I cannae take it. Och, every time, and what do we get? A hands up that that they get it wrong? That duz nee help me pal”

Kev looked to the ground. He knew the gaffer was right…

Muyles looked at the reading – 180-110…a bead of sweat ran down his forehead…he knew this game would be the death of him. He tore the Velcro strap off his arm and reached for his bottle of Gaviscon. Glugging down the glupey mixture he felt his heart beat slow….calm yourself David, he kept the words in his head…the games were coming thick and fast now and he needed to keep himself match fit…

“Right Kev, gimme the role call, who we got and who we divnee?”

“Right gaffer, Craig’s still cryin in de lav…he’s not right boss. Says no one loves him anymore, not with you buying centre halve like their, and I quote, going outta fashion. His kid ‘as purra poster of Thiloo on his wall too, tearing down ‘is Dads…”

“Jesus Mother and Mary…” Mules rubbed his eyes

“Aggerd has taken to the physio room really well, he loves the environment in there. Keeps asking who Andy is, apparently his name is written all over the place in there. Rumour is he’s staying in there really late, so he obvs taking the treatment really seriously”

Muyles rolled his eyes “Either that or he’s forgotten he’s a player….that room does things to men…we may need to get a priest in to inspect that room, make a note Kev”

“Aye gaffer….erm…Coofal came to me first thing this morning. Apparently he broke the bathroom mirror trying to swat a fly, mistakenly opened his umbrella indoors when rushing out the door to get the bus and walked under ladder…apart from that he says he feels good and his form is coming back”

Muyle rolled his eyes…

“Decs got his full time massagist now. Mainly concentrating on his jowls, that constant smiling was taking its toll. He also wondered if he could get off training early tomorrow to go on Loose Women?”

Muyles was mid Gaviscon hearing this last part, the reaction was so violent he spat the pink glupey liquid all over the filing cabinet “Jesus to God, what on earth is going on with that boy?!, No, absolutely not!!”

“Noted boss, its sound…Oh, Angello wants to change positions in the changing room, says ‘ees sick of Bowwen facetiming ‘is girlfriend, its making ‘im retch”

Muyles nodded “aye, know how he feels…and what abewt Scaramanga? I’ve nay seen him for a few days?”

“Oh, sure, he’s good now. Said the lasagne turned him inside out, but he went to the tattoo parlour and feels 100% now”

Muyles belched, a Gaviscon bubble emitted from his mouth and gently floated toward the window…at the same time a thunderous knock shook the portacabin door before it flew open…

The delegation marched in forthright, Brody led the charge, with Sully, Kretansky and then Guld, still housed in his cryo chamber, wheeled along by the 2 assistants.

“Good morning Mr Muyles, Mr Noland, and how are we all on this fine day?” Brody bellowed

Muyles fought to keep down another belch, his stomach growling “Well not great afta’ the weekend of course, ‘arm still furious, we should be lodging official complaints here!”

“Oh please, let bygones be bygones. Swings and roundabouts and all that. We don’t want to be causing a scene with our West London neighbours, makes us look petty, now to other business” Brody interjected…

Muyles turned and looked out of the window, muttering obscenities under his breath…

“We need to consider how to generate more income. Mr Kretansky has been more than generous in this window. But he is entitled to see money flowing both ways. Not to mention those petty postal workers wanting to loaf around rather than work, goodness knows what’s happening with this work shy country. Now, I’ve some ideas” Brody beamed…

“Ay, bet ya fackin do” muttered Kev

“Pardon, what was that Mr Noland?” intervened Brody

“I just Ay, we’re all ears” Kev retorted quickly

“Excellent, well, easy early starters. Paying for the toilets. I think £1 is more than reasonable. Train stations employ this practice and I think we can take advantage of this. Also, anyone with a BMI of over 25 has to pay for 2 tickets. They will be taking up more room, therefore we should be benefitting, not to mention the stress this puts on the seat. Thoughts?” Brody was incredibly proud of herself

“Genius, chip off the old block you girl” Sully replied “Always ahead of the curve, brilliant ideas. Tell you what, implement them first, then consult the fans afterwards, they’ll appreciate the rapid work”

Kretansky sat, crossed legged, his shiny red cowboy boots proudly jutting from the bottom of his blue suit. The white cat appeared to go with him everywhere…snoozing on his lap as the Czech billionaire stroked is fluffy fur “I am liking the initiative, but, how we say, do we think it go far enough? Can we charge a toll to cross the bridges to the stadium for example? This to me seems like a practical initiative. Those bridges are vital, I think we say £2 per person yes?”

“I love this guy!!” bellowed Sully

“And in my country” Kretansky continued, “people who, how you say, oppose the rules…we have special method for dealing with those…particularly those not meeting expectations”…Kretansky eyes moved to Muyles…

“Right, thanks for the catch up everyone” Moyes interjected hurriedly “But I have training to conduct. Big game Thursday and Sunday!”

Muyles jogged out the door, Kev close by…”We need to turn this round and quick lad, I divnee like the vibes off that one” muttered Muyles, quickly looking over his shoulder…

Kretansky’s eyes were trained on the scot as he jogged away…”Until we meet again My Muyles"...