Today, like an escapologist sat on the edge of a body of shimmering blue water, I strapped weights to my ankles and slowly descended into the watery depths as my poolside assistant twirled a long piece of orange foam tubing as we acted out the ever present torture scene from a Bond movie.
“Do you expect me to exercise?”
“No, Mr Parker, I expect you to die!”
I’m paraphrasing, but that’s the gist of all physioterrorpists, whether on land or all at sea.
“And if you survive, we’ll try stabbing you with needles.”
“You mean acupuncture…”
“I mean what I say Mr Parker.”