PROMOTION
EVERY now and again, the office gets Gordo to do something weird. They think it’s great fun. Come Dine With Me was one; various food challenges, including nearly dying from an overdose of chilli, was another. Back waxing was more painful than ever imagined and the Botox made him look like he had just been caught out interfering with himself in the boardroom.
He put his head back and realised that he could just relax his body and let the liquid do the work.
So when it was suggested by Yousaf, Gordo’s pal and colleague of thirty years standing, that he tried something called Float Level, you can understand his reluctance.
“So,” said the Fat One, “you want me to take all my clothes off, get into a womb-like paddling pool the size of a small car, close the lid, turn the lights off and float for an hour?”
“Yes,” replied Yousaf. “It will do you good and calm you down. Might even stop you wanting to go and shout at the bloggers.”
Gordo finally agreed, on the basis that Yousaf did it as well.
Three days later, the intrepid duo pitch up at the clinic of Float Level, in the Chips building in New Islington, an area not named by Maggie Thatcher. The place was warm, clean and tidy. They were met by the owner, Chris Fuller; a good-looking, affable feller who explained what it was all about to Gordo, who was in a Sergeant Bilko frame of mind. Very skeptical.
Now, let's cut to the chase. Gordo got his kit off in one of the two floatation rooms; it held the flotation pod, which was open. About twelve inches of skin temperature water, mixed with a lot of salt, was inside. Gordo slid in. Then…
He floated. Blimey. A bit like those pictures of people floating in the Dead Sea. He put his head back and realised that he could just relax his body and let the liquid do the work. This, having closed the lid behind him and turned off the lights, started to feel very right.
Some of that calming music was playing, the kind you get in massage parlours. Would this be a happy finish?
It fades out after ten minutes. Floating around, Gordo found himself drifting off to sleep; which lasted about twenty minutes. Waking up, floating happily in the womb, Gordo felt a bit trippy, a bit like coming to at Fat Mary’s at six in the morning.
For the next thirty minutes Gordo floated about with nothing particular on his mind. Then the music came back, and suddenly it was all over.
So, what good did it do? It’s fair to say that Gordo didn’t bite the heads off any small animals for the next couple of days; a feeling of calm took him over. Blood pressure was significantly down for three days and general relief from back pain was noticed.
This is something that is well worth you lot having a go at.
It’s a Gordo Go.
No happy finishes though.
Check out the latest offer for Confidential readers at Float Level.
