Barry Venison cut his hair and we was all so upset
‘Have a drink, Steve’ quipped Sir Lawrence, with a ghost of a smile. ‘It is Christmas after all’ It’s not Christmas, I thought to myself. It’s the 19th of December and I’ve got an important Friday night game on SKY against Diamond Palace to worry about. ‘No thanks, Sir Lawrence.’ I replied. ‘I’ll stick to my camomile tea.’ Sir Lawrence is an admirable man but he wasn’t born with an athletes instinct to maintain peak physical condition. The faint scent of the nearby tripe factory reminds me of how much Sir Lawrence has contributed to the town of Leddesford. A small working class town situated just a few miles east of the M62. Junction 23. They recently introduced a new bypass along that stretch of road, just after the Halifax turn off by the garden centre. The way the Jaguar XJ6 handles that fresh tarmacadam makes me proud to be British. I may only have one international cap but I know my power steering. And us Brits have showed those tiny eyed Asian folk exactly how to balance the weight and power of such a vehicle. Simple things like a faux walnut trim along the door interior not only proves our supremacy against the foreign fellas, it shows we have more class too. ‘Come on, Steve’ barked Sir Lawrence once more. With a ghost of a smile. ‘It’s my birthday I insist you toast with me.’ When a man of Sir Lawrence’s stature insists you toast his birthday, you have no choice but go along. I have no real idea exactly how old Sir Lawrence is, I don’t think anyone does. But if I had to guess I’d say somewhere between 67 and 81. ‘Cheers’ cheered Sir Lawrence. ‘Cheers, Sir Lawrence’ I said before letting the liquor pass my lips. I’ve never taken to the taste of alcohol, but the lifestyle of having a girl on each arm as I leave a nightclub has always appealed to the devil in me. ‘How are the boys shaping up before Friday nights big game against Diamond Palace on SKY?’ Asked Sir Lawrence. ‘Is Paulo Da Silva Dos Nascimento the young Brazilian prospect I signed from Botafuego for £3.5million available to play?’ He said, with the ghost of a smile. ‘No’ I replied. And just as I was about to explain why, I was interrupted by the polyphonic ringtone of my trusty old Motorola Startac mobile communication device. It was Julie. I normally wouldn’t answer a telephone to a woman whilst in the company of someone’s stature and presence of Sir Lawrence, but my instincts told me this was important. I may be a simple man but my natural instincts have served me well over the years. ‘It’s another one, Steve. They’ve sent another toe through the post!’ Shouted Julie. I already knew which foot it came from but I had to make sure. ‘Colour?’ I asked ‘Beige’ said Julie ‘Would you say, a Brazilian beige?’ ‘I think so, yeah’ she declared ‘Get Peter Penrice on the phone, Julie. And pack my trunks. We’re going back to Brazil’
Alby Ndlovu via Apple Podcasts · Great Britain · 01/09/20
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