The Flying Physio Room. Part 71

Thursday 22 February…’Nam….Dagenham……07:43…mild weather, the scent of spring teasing in the air as the icy clutches of winter slip away, a distant memory…

Her peroxide clad hair teased her eyelashes like a 5 year old draping a ball of string above a cat. The cloud of super king smoke engulfed her head as she sucked down another lungful of toxic fumes. The civic centre loomed large on her left, once a busy hive of council activity, now preparing itself for university accommodation life. Students making this their abode unaware of the life skills they will quickly need to gain once they frequent a local pub here…..

Her onesie began to sag further with each step, engulfing her flop flip and beginning to absorb the moisture on the pavement, at least, it looked like moisture. The golden lights of Morrison’s dazzled in the distance. Her mecca. Looking to her right she surmised the many logos of West Ham United. Their arrival in the area being a topic of much discussion. However the security guarded gates made their arrival about as welcome as Trump twerking into the baggage claim area at Heathrow.

Pressing the green man at the crossing, she took the last drag and stamped it underfoot, scorching the fabric of her onesie that was still caught underfoot.
Crossing the road and heading to the gates she noted the Rolls Royce was there already, waiting. The driver’s window was slowly lowered hallway, a leather gloved hand slowly emerging, tightly holding the large envelope.
She stood a foot away, as agreed before.
“Right, this is it, do you hear? No more. He has gone, and if you say anything to anyone, we will deny it, do I make myself clear?” bellowed the harsh tones.
“Ah much isit? Are said 50 grand or arm torking to em? Yew carnt muck me abaht” she retorted.
“It’s all there, and that is it. He doesn’t care what you do with it, abort, have it, adopt it, whatever, but he has no more to do with it. And let me state again, you do not want to test me. Are we clear?”
She grabbed the envelope. Greedily tearing open to see the lovely colour of those notes, her heart beat faster, she was rich!! It had been worth it. That one night with the Frenchman whose breath stank. He’d made the mistake, not her. The fact she had been riddled with crabs made it even more enjoyable.
“I said are we clear?!” demanded the voice from the car window
“Yeah yeah, whatever! Eee ‘ad a tiny cock anyway!” she cackled. The crack had long since destroyed her teeth. She backed away, retrieving a mobile from her onesie and began jabbering in hushed tones.
Sully slid the window back up.
How had it come to this? Sully shook his head as the creature backed away and headed back from whence she came. The gates opened and Sully drove through.

Slav leant crookedly over the arm of his suitcase. The pains had been eased by the Middle Eastern sojourn, but his hip seemed to know it was heading back to blightly and had begun to protest immediately. The text alert on his phone beeped. “It is done. No more about it, I’ve told dp. Onwards and upwards. S”.
Slav sighed. It felt like closure but it was still hard to take. Sure it had brought the fans closer to him, and the team seemed to have been released, free to breathe, but there was no mistaking the fact the genius was a once every 25 years type player.

He then reviewed the stat sheet from the work completed in Dubai. It was clear now. And with the return to fitness of all bar one player, he may have to make that biggest of calls. It wouldn’t go down well with some, the media would latch on to it too. But he was paid to make these calls. He scribbled down “LB & Capt???” He’d give it a few more days.

The players lined up in front of the check in desk in 2’s. San Miguel had begun to partner Daffy, on account of chirpy happy go lucky persona. However, since San Miguel had lost his place, the pair together were as happy Brangelina.
Randy and the big man had managed to sneak 4 cans into their holding luggage and were giggling like schoolboys.
Pedro Obi Wan was studiously reading Gibbons Decline and fall of the Roman Empire, whilst Robert Snot turf set about weighing and measuring everyone’s luggage (he hated having nothing to do).
The Human League was still trying to convince Wyle E Coyote that he was not James Tomkins Dad, whilst Lambrini was making Ayew hold his mirror whilst he checked his hair. This was the most productive Ayew had been since he had been at the club.

The flight home was pleasant and uneventful. The pilot was introduced to his hero, Michal, which made Slav slightly anxious as to who was flying the plane. But given his weave was still settling in he had been told to worry less to allow it to flourish. The only slight concern was when the big man started to cry when the plan began it’s decent. His ears began to pop and there was a great commotion as everyone scrambled for boiled sweets. Slav took his hands and assured him 3 days of no training would help. The big man’s sobs receded as he nodded in approval.

The player’s coach left ‘Nam as the players all reached for their iPhones in unison, announcing to their better halves of their arrival back home. Plans were made for the rest of the week and Slav told the players to go home to catch up with family.

Sully waved the players off and made his way to Slav’s office. The standard plume of smoke engulfed him as he entered. Slav in trademark sprawled pose on the chaise lounge, sucking on the pipe, orchestrating his hands as Faith no More bellowed from the Bose system.

“Ah, nice tune, very, erm, emotive!” lied Sully. Slav smirked, he loved watching Sully struggle to come to terms with his pastimes.
“Erm, development, slightly concerning, may be nothing but, well, you know me….” Offered Sully.
“Yes?......” was Slav’s flat toned response.
“Well, you know the dp situation and the one we refer to as onesie?”
“How can I forget….”Slave rolled his eyes and rubbed them
“Well, turns out she has quite a connection to that motorbike gang, you know the one that chased the big man from here last year?” continued Sully
Slav sat upright and turned the music down. “Go on” he retorted.
“Well, I gave onesie the £50k this morning. In addition I placed a tracking device within the package. I tracked her movement’s online, fascinating stuff. I digress. The abode she returned to is registered to the leader of that gang, but what’s more, is who the owner of the property is….” Sully loosened his tie.
“Yes…..”
“Lambrini’s father…….”
Slav’s face dropped. Sully looked at the floor.
This was an unexpected development……