Porsche Man: The English Premier West Ham

Memories from the homeland started swarming back and Porsche Man firmly grabbed the strap provided by the underground tube. Going to school in New York City prepared the west ham living in London for any challenging episodes. “I know how to score goals,” she expressed realizing only a few hours ago the German Brazilian restaurant publicity stunt not only fed the theatrical tease but made her look good when the photographer bulbs flashed.

“I walked away with two goals tonight,” Porsche Man counted, “I had a complementary supper, one goal and the second, they were taking my picture.”

Porsche Man peered around the mass transportation patiently waiting, noticing a twin set wearing their school outfits, the girls captured her attention. Gigantic headphones covered the young ladies’ ears and they stared into space with a glassy eyed glare.

“We are listening to commentary about you,” one said.

“You are in the top ten, you know,” the other added.

“Remember beware of the gunners, they have an arsenal,” speaking in unison the pair warned.

Shaken by the eerie dialogue, Porsche Man looked away and when she returned to the spot the images were gone.

A few minutes elapsed allowing her to run up the stairs and proceed directly towards the locked door which she used a key to open before quickly remembering an invitation was sent out to the new castle united royals. This commitment encouraged Porsche Man to hammer out an agenda and over the weekend she picked up the American published book “Mag Pies For Dummies Featuring Other Thanksgiving Day Recipes”.

“There we go,” she said pulling out the baked concoction, “this looks worthy of a goal.”

Suddenly a knock could be heard, and Porsche Man turned on the bubble machine in the hallway, “I will be right there,” she exclaimed opening the entry, revealing the new castle united representatives. “Well, hello Porsche Man,” they introduced each other wearing the black and white prison inspired ensemble.

“Come on in,” Porsche Man escorted them through the house, and into the courtyard where a picnic table, filled with mag pies seemingly delighted everyone, “dig in,” Porsche Man tempted.

“This is very good,” the representatives stated, putting a fork into the situation.

One of the other royal associates, respectively approached Porsche Man, “we heard back at the castle, you had a very attractive blue outfit the other evening, it was in today’s gossip column.”

“I had two goals,” Porsche Man told them, “one to enjoy the chef’s special and the other to look good while dining.”

“Have to say,” another representative mentioned, “we are eating pretty good this afternoon, I guess we have a goal, just like you.”

Taking a step back feeling her success invaded, Porsche Man calmly listened especially when another colleague joined the conversation, “and we do look good in our fashionable stripes.”

“Yes, you are having a nice free meal, and you look good,” Porsche Man remarked, “so I guess you have two goals and I have only one at this time.”

“That is right,” a different new castle united representative noted watching Porsche Man slip away into the bathroom.

“It is getting late,” she worried scrambling around trying to find the proper weapons in her arsenal.

Finally finding mascara, lipstick and a brush, she prepared for battle, applied all the cosmetic ammunition possible and soon, returned to battle.

“Just like at my photo opportunity the papers covered, I am well fed, and I look good,” Porsche Man announced making the new castle united representatives acknowledge her second goal.

While leaving, one visitor reminded Porsche Man, “remember Porsche Man, the gunners have an arsenal.”

“Not as powerful as mine,” Porsche Man replied sending her guests home level.

Observing the bubbles fly around Porsche Man laughed, “I need a holiday,” she paused, “an international break but after that,” she found a mirror, “I am going to Aston’s Villa, and will make his head turn.”