Porsche Man: The English Premiere West Ham

As the Sun secured its midday reserve seating, instigating Porsche Man to step outside, and grab the daily mail inserted inside the postal box. Returning to the kitchen, she started a tea pot before sitting down at the table.

“That Craven thinks I still need his cottage, I am a knock,” stopping abruptly she thought, quickly realizing that physical credibility grew old, and ran its course, “I am in the top ten fir sure, that is a lock.”

Continuing shifting through delivered envelopes a luring advertisement surfaced catching the alone star’s attention, “Low Prices Shipping Back Over The Pond,” the tease read. “What do they mean by that?” Porsche Man took the information personally, “getting my knockout status back is still possible.”

Suddenly, construction sounded vehicles approached and Porsche Man put down the commercial mailers, “Where do you want the stage?” A workman shouted prompting Porsche Man to peer through the blinds. Hearing the question reminded the American theatrical model image ‘the boys in the band’ were playing her venue this afternoon.

“Oh, just over there,” Porsche Man responded.

Banging and clanging surrounded the hammer girl preparing for the event and when a door knocking cued to activate ‘the bubble machine’ she monitored through the peep hole, four young gentlemen wearing green and white outfits smiling back.

“Welcome, you four,” she greeted, “you must be the boys in the band.”

“Well, we have been working eight days a week so our sound may not be one hundred percent,” one informed.

Hearing this Porsche Man started plotting and scheming, “Eight Days?”

“Yup,” another finished the sentence, “Help!”

“Sure,” Porsche Man agreed, “it seems the workers finished preparing, you can setup your instruments.”

As ‘the boys in the band’ jammed, the courtyard gates opened allowing invading fans into Porsche Man’s backyard. Despite no longer being considered a knockout, she went out onto the patio, observing everybody having a good time. This positive experience retrieved her Julie Bowen character, scoring a nice goal when a few gentlemen laughed seeing she was under the acting spell.

Finishing off the first set ‘the boys in the band’ left the spotlight glowing, only to return refresher, this time screaming into the microphone, “we achieved our first goal, making you all happy.”

This acknowledgement made the crowd cheer and Porsche Man could not curb her enthusiasm and as the second act kicked around ticking off minutes, she caught the group planning a cornering goal strategy, and Porsche Man decided to play along, “Tommy, can you hear me?” She yelled.

“Who?” The boys in the band seemed confused.

“Tommy!” Porsche Man repeated grinning ear to ear.

“Oh yeah,” the boy band members looked at each other, “maybe Tommy can hear this.”

And in a weird chain of events, the boys in the band posted a second goal, “Thanks Porsche Man,”

“Your welcome,” the star-spangled banner replied.

Reality then dropped something in Porsche Man’s stomach and the west ham united London resident realized she was a goal down. Checking out the mass audience, she let out a scream, “Antonio? Where are you?”

“Right here,” Her goal was answered.

Confident she got the point on the day and comfortably settled in enjoying the performance until the curtain call proclaiming everything was level.

Soon the fantasy party broke down, leaving only the nightly cricket orchestra. Relaxed in her chair Porsche Man quietly pondered, “This was a good last home meeting,” she reflected, revisiting the promotional literature conveying back to the United States inexpensive relocation prices.

“But I still have a chance to be knock out status,” she continued dreaming as the crickets entertained their solo audience patron.