The Flying Physio Room Part 70 (ish) With Big Sam & Dimi
Wednesday 20 July...London...14:18
The air foul and dank. The musky weave of scratching intermingled with stale gravy overpowering. The glooping odour of sweat deeply set in crevices long since washed. Body hair matted to skin in oily resin long since recognisable. The oversized mouth hung open, helpless, hopeless. The eyes gave a flicker but only the most positive of optimists would argue there was someone at home. The red and “white” scarf clinging to the flaps of skin around his neck was wet with the bile of anger and froth from the brown ale.