He took my legs, then my dignity – my session with England fitness coach

Just as I start the second of three circles of hell, prepared for me by Aled Walters, my inner demons remind me of a cruel fact. This fitness session was my idea.

My head is in a fog as I try to lift up a torso-shaped tackle bag, slam down on to it, and then pick it back up again. Why have my sinuses suddenly blocked so I can’t hear? Am I oxygen-starved? Do I need to throw up or cry? Why did I just chug a milky flat white at the hotel restaurant? Am I ever going to be able to critique an England player’s performance again after they’ve seen this useless, lumbering fool on camera?

No time to ponder all these questions. “Come