Porsche Man: The English Premiere West Ham

Festive season arrived leaving Porsche Man feeling very gifted, despite being alone in a foreign country.

Recently she earned knockout credibility due to her role modeling well-groomed appearance, gaining popularity.

With the Christmas sparkling twinkling lights promoting good will, a cell phone alert disturbed her peaceful holiday rest.

“You want me to do what?” Porsche Man asked, “Entertain the military troops, in a mid-week Thanks, Giving Season-New Year celebration?”

“That is right,” the voice over confirmed.

“Isn’t a gig like this more Chelsea’s scene? I thought she sang the blues,”

“She does,” the gentlemen caller explained, “but they want you.”

“Look good. Be a knockout, get some goals.” Porsche Man concluded putting the requests together into one presentation.

After applying cosmetic make up, the west ham united American tempting tease caught the underground that never went below fifty-five miles per hour and arrived safely inside the gunner’s confines. Deciding to impersonate Chelsea she wore a stunning dark indigo navy inspired outfit and displayed a rocking jazz playlist selection.

Making her way through the crowd and hearing chatter debating the red devil’s come back earlier in the week, Porsche Man gained confidence socializing backstage,

“Just go over there and stand,” a volunteer waving a pencil instructed, “someone may come over and take your picture.”

Realizing the event script had similarities, to the Carabao Energy Drink sponsored festival, Porsche Man casually accepted the assignment taking her position. Quietly, observing patrons passing by, she made a commitment to project a little more aggressive activity creating chances for more goal results. Spotting an isolated lonely stage microphone an idea Porsche Man developed surfaced and she implemented, when the proper moment occurred. “Does the colonist know that the show features open karaoke?” A crew member joked when Porsche Man tested if the equipment worked properly.

Noticing the teleprompter roll, Porsche Man followed the planned directions, and in a seductive fashion wanted attention, thin inquired using acapella style, “Tommy, Can You Hear Me?”. As the musical prompt took off and excitement flowed, the crowd enjoyed the performance. When the song ended Porsche Man achieved a goal, walking away from the experience, head held high.

Departing the spotlight, she encountered a small staircase and a hand magically emerged, “why thank you,” Porsche Man expressed.

“No problem,” the response exclaimed, “I am Konstantinos, you sounded great.”

“Oh, I am not really a singer,” Porsche Man responded, “But I do fulfill the required prerequisites sporting this ensemble.”

“That is true,” he commented

Once the program’s second half commenced Porsche Man found a seat figuring the whole theatrical concept out, “The organizers wanted to give you an opportunity to be able to look good in public,” Constantinos explained supplying a refreshing drink.

“Is that what this is? A made for me television special?”

“Yes,” Konstantinos answered. “you got a goal and did not cross any lines; everything is spectacular and legal.”

“And my heroic moment was seen everywhere.” Porsche Man pondered, “I guess that should entitle me to another goal.”

“Two,” Konstantinos counted, “one you got out there and belted out beautiful, prerecorded lyrics, the other you took the time and figured out the message behind this night.”

“And the second one was due to you, and your kind thoughtful intelligence, thank you Konstantinos,”

When the hour hinted last call, Porsche Man searched for the exit when her past crept up throwing rice as a reminder, something was missing from her journey.

“What did they mean by that?” Porsche Man outwardly exclaimed, “I have never been married.”

“Oh, sorry for the mistake,” a haunting individual confessed, “I assumed you wanted another goal?”

“No, sir, I have enough today, “Porsche Man acknowledged, “I am very fortunate, two goals and a clean sheet.”