23/06/2025
💔 The Breakup Bat and the Golf Club Massacre
Smash O’Clock Chronicles
satirical daily diary of a Rage Room – Day 5
Sunday morning. The air thick with regret and Lynx Africa.
Fi-Fi found an empty Monster can wedged into the safety goggles bucket and whispered, “A man has been here.”
Lucy checked the booking sheet. One word.
“Breakup.”
Su peered over with one eye open.
“Is it crying-in-the-corner breakup or full Beyoncé-in-Lemonade mode?”
“Golf clubs were requested,” Lucy said. “So I’d say carnage.”
11:02 a.m. – Breakup Session Begins
He arrived in silence.
Hood up. AirPods in. Jaw clenched like he’d been emotionally constipated since 2019.
Fi-Fi greeted him cheerily. “You’re here to destroy some feelings! Would you like to start with crockery, or go straight to male ego and oak furniture?”
He just pointed at the golf clubs.
First swing: clean.
Second swing: splintered shaft.
Third swing: emotional breakthrough.
By club number four, he was growling.
“YOU SAID HE WAS JUST A FRIEND.”
Crack.
“YOU NEVER EVEN LIKED GOLF.”
Smash.
“I BOUGHT THAT BLOODY PADDINGTON BEAR FOR YOUR NAN.”
Wheeeeze–thud.
Fi-Fi, holding a clipboard like a fairy bouncer, and presented the mace
He nodded.
Didn’t even flinch.
Took the mace like it was forged in the fires of betrayal, like a Knight and saviour of all men's hearts
Then he hit the slow cooker.
Lucy, watching from the doorway, whispered, “This is art.”
After 18 minutes, the room was a warzone of shattered glass, golf fragments, and emotional debris.
He dropped the mace, sat down on the floor, and whispered, “She took the cat.”
There was silence.
Then Su emerged from behind a stack of smashed monitors and offered him a Lucozade... with wise words... no more monster's now, they are behind you"
He wondered whether she meant the drink or the inner demon.
Fi-Fi clapped softly.
“You’re emotionally rehydrated. You’re safe now.”
Post-Smash Debrief:
Mark wandered in, stepped over a cracked speaker, and picked up an abandoned pack of wine gums.
Only the green ones left.
He shook his head solemnly and muttered, “He raged well.”
Moral of the Day:
Some wounds can’t be healed by time
But they can be soothed by full PPE, a mace, and absolutely obliterating anything that reminds you of a man named Gary.