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Angling names, popularity etc

P

Patrick Cooper

No Longer a Member
John Wilson, matt hayes, peter reading,etc. What other than them being on TV would you change/do. What if you had youre 15 minutes of fame, be it fishing or whatever would you do.


Go on:)
 
England are 2-0 down in the World Cup final against Brazil with 15 minutes to go. I am on the bench (as punishment for being at the casino all night, winning a small fortune, and then entertaining some new lady friends in my hotel room). The coach, Pippa Middleton, now desperate to turn the game around, looks at me, pleading in her eyes. I put down my beer bottle and Nachos, and return her stare. She is hurting. I am hurting- my head is throbbing like a bast*rd. I stand up, brush the Nachos crumbs off the England shirt I am proud to wear (and attempt to rub out a small curry stain that has masked the letters "E" and "N", suggesting I represent a country called "Gland"- awkward). As I walked forward, ready to take my place and save the game, the crowd fell silent, like the air had suddenly been sucked from the stadium. They are a knowledgable crowd, they know what's coming. It was only when I looked down that I realised I wasn't wearing my England shorts. Somehow, these had been exchanged for royal undergarments from Pippa's luxury collection. As I held my head high, the crowd breathed again and roared with passion and delight.

I joined the game and was instantly involved in the action. Running was tricky and not helped by the Jimmy Choo boots I was wearing. Three goals were scored, my name against each of them and each as beautifully crafted as the undergarments I was wearing. Annoyingly, they were own goals and we lost 5-0. Still, what a day that was.
 
:D
There's a comedy sketch in that!

I think today, I'd like to be a celebrity - I'd have **** loads of money for having absolutely zero amount of talent for 15 mins - or perhaps a politician!:)
 
pmsl

Howard Cooke said:
England are 2-0 down in the World Cup final against Brazil with 15 minutes to go. I am on the bench (as punishment for being at the casino all night, winning a small fortune, and then entertaining some new lady friends in my hotel room). The coach, Pippa Middleton, now desperate to turn the game around, looks at me, pleading in her eyes. I put down my beer bottle and Nachos, and return her stare. She is hurting. I am hurting- my head is throbbing like a bast*rd. I stand up, brush the Nachos crumbs off the England shirt I am proud to wear (and attempt to rub out a small curry stain that has masked the letters "E" and "N", suggesting I represent a country called "Gland"- awkward). As I walked forward, ready to take my place and save the game, the crowd fell silent, like the air had suddenly been sucked from the stadium. They are a knowledgable crowd, they know what's coming. It was only when I looked down that I realised I wasn't wearing my England shorts. Somehow, these had been exchanged for royal undergarments from Pippa's luxury collection. As I held my head high, the crowd breathed again and roared with passion and delight.

I joined the game and was instantly involved in the action. Running was tricky and not helped by the Jimmy Choo boots I was wearing. Three goals were scored, my name against each of them and each as beautifully crafted as the undergarments I was wearing. Annoyingly, they were own goals and we lost 5-0. Still, what a day that was.
Click to expand...

quality!:D
 
Howard Cooke said:
England are 2-0 down in the World Cup final against Brazil with 15 minutes to go. I am on the bench (as punishment for being at the casino all night, winning a small fortune, and then entertaining some new lady friends in my hotel room). The coach, Pippa Middleton, now desperate to turn the game around, looks at me, pleading in her eyes. I put down my beer bottle and Nachos, and return her stare. She is hurting. I am hurting- my head is throbbing like a bast*rd. I stand up, brush the Nachos crumbs off the England shirt I am proud to wear (and attempt to rub out a small curry stain that has masked the letters "E" and "N", suggesting I represent a country called "Gland"- awkward). As I walked forward, ready to take my place and save the game, the crowd fell silent, like the air had suddenly been sucked from the stadium. They are a knowledgable crowd, they know what's coming. It was only when I looked down that I realised I wasn't wearing my England shorts. Somehow, these had been exchanged for royal undergarments from Pippa's luxury collection. As I held my head high, the crowd breathed again and roared with passion and delight.

I joined the game and was instantly involved in the action. Running was tricky and not helped by the Jimmy Choo boots I was wearing. Three goals were scored, my name against each of them and each as beautifully crafted as the undergarments I was wearing. Annoyingly, they were own goals and we lost 5-0. Still, what a day that was.
Click to expand...

It's not just me that likes wearing womens clothing then.....................
 
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