Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production

Despite the punchy bitter weather, before relegation realities, haunt boxing day, Kia Ford stayed positive, navigating the pathways, alone towards the tranquil scenic seashore. Due to a business engagement, the Peacock her colorful promotional sidekick, marked absent since the dreamer streamer, defined combing the amusement boardwalk, not a priority

Reaching the beachside interesting point location, the United West Ham stared out, seeing waves break.

As a small rainbow emerged, forcing the star spangled all American, to focus better, a ghostly apparition, appeared over the crushing water, “Kia Ford,” the voice proclaimed.

“Is that you Nuno?” Kia Ford issued the request.

“Yes, your spirited saint,” replied the mysterious echo, “go to the pier, introduce yourself to two fishermen Brighton and Hove, they will take you out,”

“Will I catch goals?” Kia Ford wanted clarification.

“No, fish,” Nuno answered, disappearing.

Quickly hitting the wooden planks, Kia Ford spotted the blue and white awning advertising, “Fishing Trips Available, All Aboard”.

“If it isn’t Kia,” the guest heard.

“Ford,”

“Excuse me Brighton and Hove,” she kindly responded, “I am Kia Ford and was wondering if you had the time to escort me to a nice fishing hole?”

“Did anyone give you an assignment sheet?” Brighton giggled.

“Actually, my spirited Saint did,” Kia Ford confirmed, “Nuno.”

“Do you have one of those ‘don’t leave home without it’ Express cards?” Hove hinted.

“Here is my Am Ex,” Kia Ford told them.

“That is good enough for me,” Hove outstretched his hands.

Soon Kia Ford was inspecting rods, as the watercraft embarked destined for the special tourist friendly area, where anglers bait and catch miraculous high-level amounts of pescado.

When they reached their reserved spot, she threw out a line, while both Brighton and Hove supplied beverages. Time passed, and the relaxed placid day teased Kia Ford, searching for a bite.

“Is there something wrong?” Brighton shouted from the captain's wheel.

“No. Why?”

“You may need different equipment, try this,” Hove suggested flinging a metal tube like contraption.

“What is it?” Kia Ford curiously questioned.

“They call it A Bowen Super Jar,” Brighton announced.

“It comes from the states, like you,” Hove added.

Following the quick instructions Kia Ford set the item up and remained patient, “now what?”

“It will only take a few seconds,” Brighton advised allowing the heavens to turn colors, imitating special effects in a movie.

Suddenly, a whole fish school presenting rank and file fell right into the container, resting peacefully, “you see Kia Ford the Bowen Super Jar gave you a goal.”

“That is great,” Kia Ford smiled, “and since it is getting late, maybe I will also get the three points.”

Reminded about the sunset hour, Brighton and Hove pulled anchor, sailing home. Carefully approaching the marina, the two slowly parked the vessel. “Well, we achieved our goal today,” Brighton and Hove declared, “we followed our Rutter handbook and got back safely.”

“But you touched me,” Kia Ford sensitively explained, finishing packing her take home doggy bag souvenirs, “with the Bowen Super Jar and its gathering power.”

“Kia Ford, it is our festive gesture to our visitors, a profitable catch before the holidays,” Brighton Hove laughed, “have a happy Christmas dinner.”

Making her way down the dock Kia Ford could see the Peacock standing there, “did you catch a goal?” The Peacock bellowed.

“No, Peacock, we caught fish,” Kia Ford reported, “and there is enough to feed the seagulls.”

“That is good,”

“Where were you today?” Kia Ford continued.

“Auditioned for another role,” the Peacock started, “a Peacock trapped in the tricky trees fending off relegation.”

“Peacock,” Kia Ford sternly glared.