Porsche Man: The English Premiere West Ham

Thinking twice about opportunity options, Porsche Man decked herself out in her fashionable blues realizing, an added date to the schedule could prove itself to be a profitable investment. “I thought being a knockout I had a clear path to the next round, but that Tommy can hear me chap, really did con his way to getting me to come to his place,” she concluded applying final make up touches, departing her London flat.

Ashton Gate appeared and Porsche Man peered up, wondering why Tommy can you hear me was not top elite status like the west ham united, before venturing towards the engagement, “maybe he had to many con way schemes to getting goals,” a voice sounded, and the metal rods moved, “come in Porsche Man, and follow the street Con Way, to the front door.”

Seeing the road sign, Porsche Man felt relieved, proceeding down the path. Confronting the steps, the hammer girl assumed, the cider army kept ammunition inside the depot and wanted to find the secret successful brew. Arriving at the mansion style front door, the home seemed daunting, fending off thoughts, Porsche Man pressed the button.

A few seconds elapsed and the wooden blockade revealed the host, “Porsche Man,” the gentlemen welcomed.

“Tommy,” she replied invading the scene.

“Come let me take that coat from you,” he smiled.

“Such a beautiful place,” Porsche Man commented, strolling towards the kitchen.

Within five minutes, Porsche Man took the hint, Tommy had a goal and she played it cool opening the refrigerator.

“Would you like some frosty cider?” Tommy offered.

“Wow, you must have enough in there to quench an army,” Porsche Man observed.

“You know, it didn’t take long for me to get a goal today, Porsche Man,” Tommy reminded her,

“But you got one, right?” Porsche Man confirmed sipping the beverage.

Suddenly, everything went blank, “too much cider, Porsche Man,” she could hear falling into a deep sleep until the sun poked its light into her bedroom screaming, “wake up Porsche Man!”

Immediately, Porsche Man concluded the dream ended, “I am now longer a knockout!” She exclaimed, reaching for the remote. As the television came alive, Porsche Man noticed the commercial featuring tricky trees, “that’s Tommy, made another con go his way,” she gasped seeing him holding the cup with he initials ‘FA’.

Leaving the bed Porsche Man never panicked, “okay I am not a knockout in that competition anymore,” she thought through the predicament, “but I still have a chance to sneak into top five, maybe the four, to be acknowledged champion league material”

Days passed and Porsche Man needed knives and confidently headed towards Chef’s Field, a place known for culinary tools.

Finding Bramall Lane, she proceeded down the path knowing goals were going to be made today, “are you Chef?” She questioned seeing the proprietor.

“I am Sheff,” he answered, “how can I help you?”

“I am looking for blades to sharpen,” Porsche Man exclaimed.

“You are dressed in that beautiful blue outfit, why would you want to sharpen any blades?” Sheff curiously requested.

Staying very quiet, Porsche Man let Sheff continue, “here I got a goal for you, a nice Cornet instrument,”

“Well thank you Mr. Chef, I do appreciate the goal, but”

“But what? Porsche Man, I have a goal too, so lets take a break.”

When they returned for the second half tempers started rising, “hey you made a penalty!” Porsche Man shouted grabbing her cell phone calling her friend John Ward Prowse.

“What are you doing?” Sheff inquired.

“Calling my friend, John Ward Prowse, and he is going to pick me up,”

Seeing a car approach, Porsche Man didn’t even say goodbye despite hearing, “Porsche Man, you can’t do that, so I will take that penalty goal and consider us level.”

Quickly, getting into the front seat Porsche Man connected with John Ward’s eyes, “I tell ya; it was that Brewster, who made sure, Chef had two goals.”

“Now, Porsche Man,” John Ward comforted, “let us take a rest then next week we can enjoy picking some cherries and get goals.”

Wiping away tears Porsche Man asked, “can I turn on the bubble machine?”

“Only if you get a goal,” John Ward answered.