Name drop:
So, like many footballers of less-than-international standing, I contrived to happen upon Rio Ferdinand's trailing leg in the Pumpkin at Stockport station today. He was arranged around a tea-puddled table with some guy I took to be his agent, waiting for a London-bound train that had been cancelled. And I must say, the guy is incredibly tall and skinny, built like a human dragonfly.
All I can say is it's a shame he can't tackle Johnny Foreigner nearly as effectively as he can polish off three packets of Starburst. Obviously, my attempts to persuade him that his future lies in Unibond One (South) will provide the latest tapping-up scandal in tomorrow's tabloids. Sadly he didn't seem tempted by the offer of a fully-chauffered 1995 Ibiza and all the cheese oatcakes he can eat.
No matter. You heard it here first. And then he was gone - through the gaggle of tracksuited PE students with camera phones - to First Class, and that London.
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4 comments:
What is it about central defenders.
Huw (my sidebar) has had a comparable crossing of the Sol Campbell path.
Lumpkin in the Pumpkin?
hes crap
I've sat in that Pumpkin for many a moon eating a cheese and onion toasty and never chanced upon anyone so exciting
Shane: A career awaits you at the Evening Sentinel headline-writing department.
Scary Bayonet Guy: Sparing but quite pertinent, that.
Just So: The people that work there claim sightings of just about everyone. I guess spending all day at Stockport Station has to have at least one perk. Are you something to do with the eponymous child-oriented festival?
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