The Flying Physio Room Summertime Special 2019 Part 1

We at the Org are privileged to have one of our legendary writers, the brilliant and outstanding Darren Harry, deem to come down from his special planet and grace us with some of his unique observations that are believe it not related to West Ham United, we have split his original 'story' in to three digestible parts.

Friday 21 July…22:39…West London…spacious apartment, smell of old Etonians, brandy and brie…”Argh get off me!” came the strangled cry. When cornered and scared out of his wits, Joris Bohnson had a tendency to sound like a girl. Brody stood over him, stiletto in hand.

“Do not test me you stodgy fluffy haired prick. If you do not agree to this, I will make your life a living hell” Brody seethed above him “Get out of my flat” he squealed, Brody couldn’t help notice how these Etonians all had some link to the pig family…..Brody turned her attention to his laptop, his password “IluvTrum9” was so easy to work out it was scary. She scrolled through the history, it would be here somewhere

“Get off my laptop” Bohnson cried, the matted hair meeting tears, the snot dribbling down the puffy jowls. To think this sack of marshmallow will be leading the country soon….Brody looked scornfully up at the ceiling. She would make use of her abroad property more often, that was sure……until the time was right for her to move into position. She was one true leader. Forget West Ham (which she did for 97,8% of each working day) it was the country that needed her……..And then she found it.

“Ah……perfect” she announced. Taking the safe stick from inside her brassiere she slotted it into the USB slot and downloaded. “Leave me alone, get out!” exclaimed the mess on the floor once again. Brody turned the rather delightful shiraz sitting adjacent to the table. She poured and took a long slow gulp. Most pleasant. The download almost complete she turned to Bohnson and crouched, eye level. “You will do exactly as we agreed. You will act exactly as I have planned. You will be following everything I have detailed. If not, the contents of this safe stick will find its way to the press, MI5 and Scotland Yard. That’s if you live to see the enquiry. Do we understand each other?” Brody stood. “Well?!” she screeched. “Yes, yes, yes, now please for the love of God please go!” wailed Bohnson.

Safety stick removed, Brody poured the remaining wine over the laptop. As the keyboard fizzed, Brody turned and left. Bohnson, shivering, sweating, slowly got to his feet. He heard the noise from the wardrobe in the far room, damn, he had totally forgot he’d left him in there, what had he heard? Would this derail Brody’s plan? Staggering to the door and opening he saw Michael Govves eyes bulging.

The ball had been fastened inside his mouth for too long, added to the oppressive nature of the gimp suit and late mask. Bohnson ripped it off and Govve gasped for air before passing out. Bohnson laid him on the bed, patting his head “There there piggy, it’s OK, everything is fine”….Bohnson prayed it would be.

They always knew 'Genghis' was going to get them over the Lyndon Stadia debacle, somehow somewhere, they just didn't expect her to be his weapon of 'miss' destruction, et tu Brutina? - Ed