West Hams Flying Physio Room…Part 80

Friday 25 September 2015…..09:21.....A spring in the step, a kick in the balls. It’s all in the mind
Slav leaned back and emitted a guttural growl. The hours he’d put in recently would put a rundown NHS doctor to shame. The 7th earing on his left ear jangled against the 6th and 8th.
The office had taken on a markedly different look in the post Alledice era. The gravy stains on the ceiling had proven decidedly tricky for the decorating company “Clintbags”. The theme was unmistakably Moroccan. Plush rugs (the thickness of which caused a terrible scene when the young winger Lambrini had become lost in one on his first day) adorned the previous laminate floor. The traditional desk and swivel chair had now been replaced with a chez lounge (scarlet). Long heavy curtains hung from the windows, casting an atmospheric light in the room that required a newcomer to focus hard when entering.
The assortment of hashish pipes had been admonished by Sully at first; however after a few minutes of Slav’s company, the aroma had invaded his senses. In that moment those hours of trawling YouTube and email evaporated, the world seemed full of cotton wool, fluffy duvets and giggles. Mrs Sully noted that since that first meeting he seemed to be spending much more time in the manager’s office and his weekly intake of M&Ms and snickers had gone through the roof.
The sonos that had been installed purred from the floor to the ceiling was proclaiming to all that cared to listen that it had a “Sweet child O’ mine”. Slave tapped the strings on the bass guitar that lay in his lap like a willing lover. Leaning his head back he opened his mouth and the recently appointed club doctor, a charming lady name Ava, slipped a grape in. Slave winked and Ava giggled. Her heart fluttered….he was so much nicer than the West London prick.
In the corner a shaven headed gentlemen was furiously prodding a black game controller. Sweat trickled down his veined forehead like condensation around the outside of a cold becks bottle. Slav clicked his fingers…the shaven headed one shot his attention in the same direction…”Julien, pleeze, this is enuff no? ‘ow you say, make yourself yooseful eh pleeze?” Julien dropped the controller instantly “Yes boss of course boss, sorry boss wont appen again sir” retorted the fearsome assistant “Eh Julien mar frend, you no apologise to me, we brothers yes?” a smile appeared across Juliens face “Yes boss, forever and always”. Julien turned and ran through the door….literally. Slav sighed and clicked his fingers again “Eh, someone, ‘ow you say, fixes this yes? I don’t want mar Russ Abbott spoiled eh?” Ava peered over her masters shoulder “Sorry my leader, but what is Russ Abbott?”…Slave leaned back and placed the ceramic tip of the pipe to his mouth and inhaled deeply, the rush of the aromas washing into his mind like a marshmallow waterfall…..”Atmosphere baby”…..
The training changing room atmosphere was the happiest Winsten had ever known. Things had been rocky initially after Arsenal had tried to send a Karl Jenkinson lookalike back on loan. After his red card Wenston had pinned him up against the wall and pulled off the prosthetic mask to reveal Gary Mabbutt. Levvy really would stoop to anything.
Adriens photography career was going from strength to strength. Guinness had been in touch as he was apparently nearing the record for being the smiliest person with the biggest mouth and teeth on the planet now that Cilla had popped her stilettos.
In stark contrast a lottery win would barely emit a frown from Sako. The young striker, keen to explore his career after football, had always taken a keen interest in law. He had decided to visit as many police stations in London as he could, soaking up the atmosphere. New Signing Buynow (Payet lata) advised Sako he had a similar interest and already had some international visits booked at similar institutions and that he was welcome to tag along and observe.
The big man had tried his best not to catch anything. He realised being injured for 97% of his West Ham career had gone down about as well as a Hungarian border force officer. His rehab hadn’t been helped however after the passing of his adopted brother Chicken Kev. After Allerdices departure many felt the writing was on the wall for Chicken (literally in many instances which was of great annoyance and expense to Sully). The FA exposure that Chickens passport had been falsified, and DNA tests proved he was actually 55, had been a great shock to all inside the club, but not the fans. In fact it had been a relief to many fans who had questioned their own sanity, arguing he was playing like a 50 year old for many seasons. The news had proved too much for Kev. His empty car was found at Lands’ End, engine running and a trail of clothes, wallet and beer cans lead to the edge of the cliff. His body had not been recovered…..
This sequence of events had led Slav to pass the armband to its natural successor, Murk Nobel. Slav ensured a DNA test was carried out beforehand though (many arguing the Canning Town boy moved as fast as a 50 year old) but these tests proved inconclusive which was good enough for Slav. An induction ceremony was carried out at the training ground, all the players and their families, and to everyone’s great delight, the Prime Minister and self-proclaimed “Hammers fan” David Cameronn arrived. Much fanfare followed and the prestigious armband was handed to Murk by Slav. It brought a tear to everyone’s eye. The day ended in controversy though with Slav literally throwing the PM out of the ground and kicking him up the arse. The players surrounded the boss, enquiring what on earth happened? Slav lifted his chin and shook his head “Pigs head, sick fuk” and marched into his office.
The clouds rolled in from the north. The soft specks of rain began to spit onto grass. Julien called the boys in for the day. Slav pulled the curtain back. He sat back on the Chez and opened the file marked “Top Secret”. Ever since he’d arrived he’d been making things right. The team were now beginning to take shape and purr in the fashion he demanded. The fans were happy. But something was eating away at him. Sully had tried to convince him everything was “Water tight me old son” around the OS. But Slav wasn’t convinced and there was too much noise and opposition still rumbling on. Pulling his glasses down and reaching back into the recess of his brain, he retrieved his legal qualifications and decided to use them once again. His battle plan kept coming back to the same common denominator…..Levvy. Slav would have him. Nothing would stop him achieving what he wanted for this club. He took the pipe again and went to work…Ava’s head bobbing up and down in his lap