Room 101: Nick Kennedy – Toulon, former England and London Irish lock
Being 6ft 8in is not good when you’re flying at the best of times.
The lack of leg-room combined with my height often means I involuntarily have to adopt the ‘emergency crash position’, with my knees around my earholes in a position that ‘tantric’ Sting and his Mrs would be proud of.
The result? My feet lose all feeling and I struggle to walk off the plane. Either that or you’re forced to sit at an angle, where you get way too personal with your adjacent passenger. The worst part of it is these vertically challenged offenders don’t dare to make eye contact because they know they’re in the wrong. I like to fix them with a steely glare, while loitering around the toilets (not something I make a habit of, I hasten to add!).
But invariably they choose to look away, happily swinging their legs miles from the floor!
TRP verdict: A tall story it may be, but you’re in.
2. Call centres
Don’t get me wrong we’ve all had our fair share of jobs we’d like to forget about.
Wrapping flowers as a teenager is conspicuous by its absence on my CV, I can tell you! But one place I can’t imagine working in a call centre. They’re bad enough to deal with from the outside let alone having to set foot inside.
The most annoying thing about the majority of these places is the idiots you get on the end of the phone. They have no empathy whatsoever for the customer and are only capable of following, word for word, the options they have on their computer screen in front of them.
I had the misfortune of having to ring one because my Sky box wasn’t working and, I swear (which I felt like doing a lot), that I had a robot on the line.
Unless it’s a question with a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ answer that takes them to the next pre-planned stage of the painful resolution process they don’t want to know. I’m convinced they hang up on me when I start to get peeved, pretending it’s a bad line.
TRP verdict: Good call – you’re in again!
3. Ice Baths
Currently the rage after training and post-match.
I don’t mind them in the summer, when it’s hot and my legs are tired. But in the winter, after a cold game, I can’t think of anything worse than standing in a huge bath full of ice with five naked men.
It wouldn’t surprise me if in a few years new research comes out saying that they are actually useless and that you’re better off recovering naturally! Peter Richards, a former team-mate of mine at London Irish, was a sceptic. So much so that he used to keep his socks on!
TRP verdict: You’re in. Ice is for drinks. The first clean sweep of the series. Well done!
