That's it, push all the way down...
A soft but hard feminine voice purred from my phone speakers.
I looked up from my sweaty squat and straight at my phone camera. Push all the way down?? If I squatted any more deeply I would be in imminent danger of birthing a massive Wookie of a shit.
Not normally something to get the ladies pulses racing. At least not normally in a sexy party kind of way.
How's that?
I grunted magnificently as I squatted like a Belgian woman at a dwarf's tea party.
Much better. Right, you can sit back down.
The voice stroked at me seductively from the screen.
Unfortunately, the lady on the other end of my video chat was not some saucy Amazonian minxstress hungering for a bit of cold Scottish Pastrami.
No. She was my physiotherapist and not once in the whole two meetings we had had, had she shown me even a hint of bra strap. To say I felt cheated would be an understatement. After my astonishingly mysterious and cataclysmic knee injury of many moons ago I had been to the doctor many times. He had prescribed many things for it. Rubby things, Eaty things, cold things. Till the fateful day last month, he had said. Right, I think mechanically we are sound now. It's time to deal with the neuropathic aspect of this pain. He had paused then, almost as if rehearsing a part in a Shakespearian tragedy. Neuropathic? What, you mean I am imagining it? Like, it's all in my head? I snapped somewhat belligerently. I mean, what the hell was the man saying? Was he saying I was a mental? Was I to be locked up in a white-walled room and made to stuff my own faeces into Marmite jars? No no no. That's not what neuropathic means. What it means is.... I drifted off whilst the Doctor waffled on some dubious shite about how I wasn't imagining it and I was in fact suffering from some nerve damage after the injury or something or other. Inwardly, shook my head in distress. He was saying I was suffering imaginary pain? This was outrageous. I, the manliest of all that was man was in fact a headcase? No, never. Maybe the Doctor was a nutjob and he was deflecting? The Doctor finished waffling and said he was setting me up for Physiotherapy and it might be a long road back but we would get there. I mumbled some thanks and disconnected the call, shaking my head in disgust. And so I had found myself in the sorry position of being ordered about by a lady via video call without even a reciprocal glimpse of something sweaty or lacy. Sometimes life sucks. *Do I win the longest Post title of the day award?
*do I get a prize for using three had's in a row? Surely?