Porsche Man: The English Premier West Ham

Anything can happen when the Carabao creature sponsors invite certain individuals, funding a meet and compete. Trying to stay in the top ten seemed like an honorable priority for Porsche Man, heading into the promotional gimmick event with very careful sentiments. Feeling an energizing spirit charge similar to the battery bunny, a new horizon might end up as good fortune.

“All I have to do is disarm the arsenal,” she thought, “defeat the gunners at their own game.”

Coming up with a plan before the gunners arrived, she grabbed a picture from a wedding advertisement featuring her and fellow model Ben White. “Yes, this could do the trick, knock the gunners off their pedestal,” she smirked.

Inside the kitchen, waiting peacefully holding firmly a jolting inspiring drink, staring at her theatrical bubble machine, wondering if she was going to be overtaken and sent packing. “When will these gunners with the arsenal, show up,” she pondered hearing the doorbell rang.

Squeezing the can, she passed the nuptial sales pitch photos turning on the festive distraction allowing the circular fizz to set the scene, “do your trick,” she whispered her order, “I sure look good in that white dress.”

Opening the wooden blockade revealed a confident military representative, “you are the gunner.”

“Yes, ma’am, and you are Porsche Man the person who I am supposed to enjoy the evening with,”

“That is right,” she clarified escorting him down the hallway.

“I thought you were a temptress playing a role,” the gunner repeated acknowledging the matrimony wall presentation.

“Well, we all have our own goals,” Porsche Man defended.

“Did he die or is he missing his action?” The Gunner asked, feeling like he just lost a little turf in the social battle.

“No, the pictures are just hanging,” Porsche Man led the gunner down a deceptive path.

“Kudos, to that,” the gunner said making Porsche Man laugh.

“Well, I guess that is my second goal.”

Despite the exchanging vow hints gracing the entry, sending a message, the Gunner started to find himself as he sat down, captured by the courtyard tranquil garden atmosphere. “I tell you,” the gunner complemented, “it seems you have everything together tonight.”

“That it does,” Porsche Man agreed showing her the Julie Bowen side that keeps the goals coming each night out.

Trying to get closer, the west hammer dropped her odegaard, and accepted a peck on the cheek, “I know you only had one goal tonight,” Porsche Man paused, “But I had three.”

Still having electricity flowing from the other evening, Porsche Man felt sensational on the Saturday and decided to visit Brent Ford, hoping to get some buzz for moving on to the next Carabao creature round.

Answering the call, Brent seemed very surprise when Porsche Man stood there, “you know Porsche Man I already have a goal today.”

Leaning back on her heels, appearing like Chelsea singing the blues, she quickly retaliated, “Kudos. I have one of those too.”

“You are being very competitive today, typical American,” Brent commented.

“I disarmed the gunners, moved on in the Carabao creature bracket,”

“Sometimes that happens with the Carabao creature,” Brent stopped, “miracles come out of nowhere.”

“Why don’t you come in?” The buzz man lured her, and she accepted.

Putting on her Julie Bowen role, Porsche Man achieved another goal and seemed pretty confident that for another week the top ten would be in her grasp. Until tragedy struck during the meeting’s second half, just like the gunners, a self-inflicted mistake gave Brent another goal.

“Look at that we are level, honey,”

“Four goals in one sitting, wow, we are creating some buzz.”

That is when Brent, inserted a message knocking Porsche Man out of the top ten, “sorry Porsche Man, had to do it.”

Walking home stunned, the star-spangled fashion siren had her banner tattered, wondering if this was the final time she would be in the elite section. Upon arriving back in her flat she went to the refrigerator hoping to find a pick me up, and a message she wrote on a reminder pad replacing any rocket launching refreshment filled the personal best performance prescription.

“Appointment with the Olympiakos this week,” the post it stated.

“Once again, an athletic sporty moment, I must be prepared,” she said closing the freezer needing a good night’s sleep.