to find out the truth.But before you bare your soul, do you recognise this titan of track and field?
Dai Llaffin
He could have been a contender; he could have been somebody. And if it wasn’t for that recurring calf injury during his second season playing in the 1st XV at the Merthyr Meatheads Rugby Club, Dai wouldn’t have missed out on that elusive cap for Wales.
As it is, he has to settle for second-in-command in the physical education department. Such lofty positions have their advantages, of course. Few colleagues have the power to send more junior staff members off to the sports track with 145 wheezing children while remaining cosily inside to scour eBay for sports sunglasses on the departmental iPad. Fewer still can call their charges by their surnames and suddenly whisk a roughly hewn “team” to the outer edges of the county with 20 minutes’ notice and not a single indemnity form in sight.
Once abroad, Dai can succumb to touchline rage, comfortable in the knowledge that his frequently inventive profanities will be buried by the What Goes on Tour Stays on Tour maxim.
But there is a gentler side to our Dai. Catching the slightest whiff of injury - whether at track, field or during appraisal review meetings - boyo will lope off to the scene of the accident, first-aid kit slung over his shoulder, and barge through the bloodthirsty gawpers who are competing to upload pictures to Snapchat. In no time, he has the victim’s straightened leg over his shoulder and is pushing it back into impossible positions.
His position in the staffroom is unchallengeable. Just as Ralph Nearly- Retired is experiencing the quiet moment of epiphany that is nine across, Dai robs him of the word by kicking open the door and launching into a “hilarious” rerun of the entire script of the final episode of Gavin and Stacey, delivered at the decibel level of a small private jet.
There’s bloody lovely, innit?
