A well-known media personnel from North Norfolk had agreed to correspond on Premier League games for Ronnie Dog Media. In fear that it may tarnish his ‘prestigious’ name in the world of British media, he wishes to remain unnamed. Here are his ramblings.
I lay on the floor, as still as a corpse. I couldn’t believe what I had just witnessed. Norwich City had slain the mighty Manchester City. Daniel Farke had thrust himself past Pep Guardiola with pelvic muscles of gargantuan proportions. I’m not usually one to gloat, but I knew I couldn’t let the emotions coursing through my body remain enclosed for much longer. Like a woman going into labour, the womb in which my jubilation resided was ready to release.
I quickly pulled out my cellular phone. Scrolling through my contacts, I quickly found the name I was looking for.
“Ello?” said the voice on the other end of the phone, “this is Liam.”
“How’d ya feel Liam? It’s Alan! Can you believe it? We smashed you!” I screamed in his ear.
“You what?” said Liam, “who the f@$* is Alan?”
“It’s Alan! We met at last year at a charity event in Manchester!” I said.
“Ah right. Aren’t you the bloke who got tossed for being off his tits after two pints?” said Liam, untruthfully, “what do you want, and how’d you get this number?”
“You never mind that,” I said, trying to ease the conversation with a bit of friendly banter, “I’m just calling to break your balls about the match today!”
“Right, well if you call this number again, it’ll be your teeth that I’ll be breaking.”
After Liam hung up the phone I chuckled to myself. I knew it was all in good fun. We hit it off like wildfire at the charity event. We never actually talked, but I waved at him as I was being escorted out by security. I knew the bad boy image I was giving off piqued his interest. If Oasis was to ever get back together, I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a call. I sent him a text to ensure no feelings were truly hurt.
“Only having a laugh, Liam! Don’t look back in anger, mate!”
After sending the text I had a look at the rest of the scores from that week. Liverpool had smashed Newcastle. Manchester United and Chelsea had overcome the odds to beat Leicester and Wolverhampton. Sheffield played Southampton and Brighton played Burnley. Those matches happened. Oh, and Tottenham smashed Palace’s crystals.
It had been an exciting day of football. I ran a bath before bed to calm my nerves. A strawberries and cream bath bomb and a glass of merlot (I treated myself to a £5 bottle- sometimes you just have to put you first) would do the trick. I was just what the doctor ordered. As I slipped my naked body into the steaming water, I heard my phone vibrate from across the room. I peered over to read the notification. It was from Liam.
“Christ. You really do remind me of our kid.”
YES! I knew he liked me!