Porsche Man: The English Premiere West Ham

Comfortably situated in the middle top ten, Porsche Man performed a ‘release the steam’ theatrical presentation with the bubble machine acting as a dance partner, luring the fantasy to engulf her soul when the doorbell rang, interrupting the mood.

Rushing over, answering the request, revealing the visitor, Mr. Bourne’s big mouth exclaimed, “do you want any goals today?”

“It is on my agenda, Mr. Bourne,” Porsche Man defensively replied showing preparation for any distraction the well-known fashionable dressed cherry picker visitor had planned, “what can I do for you?”

Immediately, the guest faked her out using a strategic tactical move, achieving his only goal, entrance into the single lady’s pad, bursting a bubble as a finale. “Whoops Porsche Man,” Mr. Bourne laughed, “I should say, excuse me.”

“That wasn’t very funny,” Porsche Man glanced seriously, “I may not have any goals now, but later in the day, you will hear from me.”

“What is going to happen later in the day?” Mr. Bourne curiously responded, “you know if you want a goal, you can come pick cherries with me.”

“I would rather stomp all over you and then enjoy a nice wine during dinner.” Porsche Man responded deciding a cool off break needed.

Coming back in the second half, still feeling anger all around her and Mr. Bourne occupying her living room, “well are you ready to get a goal today? Going cherry picking, perhaps?”

“You have crossed over the line,” Porsche Man grabbed her cell phone, pressing the emergency alert number, saved for these tension filled moments.

Suddenly, a magical burst conjured up angelic smoke revealing a traditional leading man, or as Porsche Man now calls him, ‘JWP’.

“JWP,” Porsche Man enthusiastically greeted, “he crossed the line and made a penalty.”

With folded arms, JWP judged the predicament, “that means a goal opportunity is in your future!”

“That is right, I want a goal, and I want it now, without Mr. Bourne’s assistance,” Porsche Man’s angry outburst heard all over the flat shook the setting.

“Well, I did make a mistake, pushed you to getting a goal, maybe,” Mr. Bourne chimed into the conversation.

Giving him a stern glare, Mr. Bourne took the hint, and fetched his jacket, “it was a good cherry-picking offer,” he departed inserting one last jab.

“We are level,” Porsche Man made clear, “you are very lucky.”

Both watched Mr. Bourne disappear, “You got me a goal, JWP!”

“Glad I was here for you,” JWP mentioned accepting Porsche Man’s kind gesture.

“You know today I should have had more goals,”

“Ending up even, seemed a pretty reasonable result,” JWP picked up a few cherries, Mr. Bourne dropped, “these are pretty good.”

“They are little red devils,” Porsche Man commented then abruptly halted, “of course the red devils.”

Remembering she had to go see the united men over the weekend Porsche Man needed friendly support, handling the commitment. “I should get a goal,” a confident thought swirled through Porsche Man.

“Can I count on you?” Porsche Man inquired, “JWP,”

“Only if you get goals,”

“Well, next time, we cannot get a goal by someone committing a foul,”

“A goal is a goal, no matter how you get one,” JWP proclaimed heading offstage.

Quietly, Porsche Man relegated herself into the courtyard for reflection and ponder the goals she was expecting to earn, “JWP is right, a goal is a goal, but I have to do it right, I need real goals.”

And it was then she made a promise, “give the red devil a run for his money, then walk away with the three points, that truly is a realistic goal.”