Big Petero is working hard, doing some heavy hitting in the boxing session.

He’s using this “bag” work to let out some of his pent-up frustration after the humiliating loss of the Panthers to the Broncos.

He launches a huge right into the bread basket of coach Matthew Elliott.

“You sure coach (wham!) you want me to keep (thump!) laying into you like this (wallop!).”

“It’s okay, Petero (aaah!), this ain’t nothing (grunt!) like the going over our boss, Glenn Matthews, gave me behind the change shed at Suncorp Stadium on Sunday.”

“Look coach, this don’t feel right (kabam!). What’s wrong (thud!) with the punching bags we used last week (splotto)!”

“Had to (ouch!) hock ’em, since all the crowd bookings (whimper) for our first six home games rang up and cancelled on us Sunday night (gurgle). We’re broke … but don’t worry your 400 grand is safe as a US bank.”

“I think he’s had enough, Petero … he should have quit while he was behind at Canberra.”

Petero is staring at an olive-skinned, Mediterranean man dressed as a fairy with wand and little wings attached with elastic bands.

Petero says: “Hey, I know you’re that bloke who …”

The fairy type butts in: “used to be mayor of Maroochy. Well, now I’ve got a new gig. I’m the Football Fairy Godfather. Call me Joe. Times are tough and a guy’s got to put breadfruit on the table. Say, this tutu doesn’t make my bum look fat, does it?”

“Is this a Footy Show gee-up?”

“No… I’m the NRL’s wish-fulfilment consultant. I’ve just come from making the Eels’ Jarryd Hayne bullet-proof … he’s taking to wearing the Kevlar shoulder pads and head gear everywhere.

"This morning I’m was at the West Tigers. Benji wished with all his might that he could finish just one set, let alone 80 minutes. So I turned him into Lleyton Hewitt – he’s traded a bung knee, two crook shoulders for some bad attitude and Bec.

"Before lunch I was at the Broncos. Benny’s wanted all the bad things to finally go away. It wasn’t easy turning Bruno Cullen and the entire NRL press corps into fairy dust, but I gave it my best shot.

"So Petero, what do you want, apart from out of that gilded cage your footy manager managed to wrangle from Penrith for you last season?”

“You know Joe, I’d really like to enjoy my footy again. Could you make me a Bronco for life?”

Suddenly Petero disappears. Up at Red Hill, Locky nudges Tonie Carroll and points to a black stallion that has just run on.

“That’s strange Tunza, I could have sworn Buck used to be a few shades lighter than that.”