Chapter Two: How Rimmer saved the Whitbury New Town Leisure Centre

"Do what, sorry?" Rimmer babbled down the telephone. "You're who? Colin? Something about a fire? In the swimming pool? How can that hap... Ok, erm..." He grappled for a pen to write down the many problems this man called Colin seemed to think he needed to deal with. He glanced at the gold Toblerone-shaped name display. "Gordon Brittas? Manager?" he murmured to himself.

A woman with short blonde hair skipped in. "Hello Mr Brittas - nice H! - Laura was wondering if you could spare a few moments to deal with the elderly gentleman trying to kill the antenatal class with a machete."

Rimmer blinked a few times. "Mr Brittas? That's me?"

"Well... yes, Mr Brittas. I think so, Mr Brittas. Is this a test, Mr Brittas?"

Rimmer put the phone down and walked around the desk. "So... I run this place?

"Yes, Mr Brittas."

"I'm the manager?"

"...Yes, Mr Brittas."

"Splendid!" he cheered. "Now's my chance to prove I can do something right!" He looked at the woman's nametag. "Linda, just the person I wanted to see. Erm... go see Colin down by the swimming pool and sort out the fire and I guess I'll be headed to wherever the antenatal class is." Linda nodded and ran out of the room. Rimmer grinned. Running a leisure centre couldn't be difficult surely.

"Erm, Mr Brittas," Linda said as she bounded back into the room. "You don't sound like yourself, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, fine. But, where is the antenatal class?"

"Down in the yoga room. You said the gymnasium was too large and would make the enwombed babies feel agoraphobic"

Rimmer saw a map of the centre on the wall. The yoga room wasn't far. "Splendid" he grinned.

"NO ONE TELLS ME HOW TO EAT MY SOUP!" the elderly man yelled wandering around the yoga room and swinging the fire axe at the pregnant women. They screamed and tried their best to run with their swollen stomachs in the small space. Laura was practically pulling out her hair when Rimmer arrived. Mr Brittas was the last person she wanted to handle the situation, but she rather hoped the man would go after him with the axe instead of the women. "What's wrong?" Rimmer asked.

"Ah, Mr Brittas. This gentleman says you caught him drinking soup from the bowl in the cafeteria and demanded that he use a spoon or a cup. You see he has arthritis and-"

Rimmer peered into the room through the glass window, "His hands seem perfectly capable of gripping an axe!"

Laura nodded and opened the door. "Just... TRY not to aggravate him more."

"You expect me to go in THERE?" Rimmer exclaimed and backed up against the wall.

Laura raised an eyebrow. Mr Brittas would never normally run from a battle. "Are you alright, Mr Brittas? Not like you to say no to a challenge."

Rimmer gulped. He had to fool these people into believing he was Gordon Brittas until the others came to rescue him. "I'm fine. Well, um... here I go!" he said as he gingerly stepped into the room.

"YOU!" the man shouted and raised the axe above his head. Rimmer shot to the other side of the room behind one of the women.

"You're supposed to be protecting US!" she hissed.

"Right, sorry, erm..." Rimmer moved to behind the relaxation mats propped up against the wall. "Sir, whatever I said to upset you, I apologise and erm... can't we all just get along? I'll buy you a sausage roll."

"Really?" the man said, lowering the axe.

Rimmer held his hand out for the axe and it was handed over to him. "There now, no blood shed and you get a free lunch! Everyone's happy."

The man seemed contented with that and went off to the cafeteria with Linda, who had just arrived on the scene. "Bravo Mr Brittas! she called back to him as she left.

"Yes, very good." Laura said as Rimmer left the antenatal class to their work. "Alright," she growled and thrust him up against the wall. "Who are you?"

"Me? Er, Gordon Brittas, of course," he squeaked as she pressed harder on his rib cage.

She poked him in the chest with one of her sharp-nailed fingers. "I don't believe that for a second. No one will! If there are no more fires or floods or other disasters for the rest of the day people will get suspicious."

"I'm really that bad?"

"You're not, no. But he is. You, whomever you are, have a knack for weaselling out of difficult situations by avoiding any manner of conflict whatsoever." She released him. "You're just what we need. Mr...?"

"Rimmer... Arnold Rimmer. I admit it, I'm not Gordon Brittas."

She smiled. "Good, then you can probably sort out the fire too. Oh and the herd of sheep stuck in the tennis courts."

"Sheep?" he groaned.

Laura smiled more broadly and led him to the courts. "Welcome to Whitbury New Town Leisure Centre, Arnold!"