I actually witnessed Tony having a massage on the beach.
It happened like this:
The lovely Chinese lady smiled as he agreed to a full-body massage. Tony lay back on the sunbed. At that point, confronted with the enormity of the problem, the Chinese lady made a few frantic calls on her mobile phone, splashed a bit of oil on the summit of the mountain before her, and waited for reinforcements.
Range Rovers slid to a halt on the sandy car park and the elite super-rubber squad ran down the beach to assist in the Great Wall of Cox operation.
He knew nothing of this. Eyes closed, sun-drenched, he was in a distant place, and remained there for some time after the elite strokers departed back to Arillas and Sidari.
These are the true annals of Agios Stephanos, the village that time forgot, then remembered, then decided it was better to forget.