But instead of chemical warfare, he hides round the corner and blurts out motivational parables when I pass. Intended to aid in my physical development, they're usually non-sequitur bollocks spouted by someone with the messianic properties of a child squeezing a cats head because his Mum said he wasn't allowed some Skips.

''Run a mile, and you'll be a saint. Run 10 miles, and heaven will...erm...shit...pearls,''