WAGS’ TALES
Show me a man who
loves football and
nine times out of ten
you’ll be pointing at
a really bad shag.
The woman sits, getting colder
and colder, on a seat getting
harder and harder, watching oafs
getting muddier and muddier.
I’d rather have a guy take
me to a football match and
have a drink afterwards than
go to bed with someone.
I’ve read David’s autobiography
from cover to cover. It’s got
some nice pictures.
When men are at a football
stadium they’re there to watch
the game. You could prance half-
naked across the pitch and the
only response you’ll get from the
menfolk in the stalls is ‘Get off’.
Not, you’ll notice, ‘Get ’em off’.
I had no interest in going straight
into football management after
my playing career ended. My plan
was to chill out for a few years
and spend time with my family, but
they got fed up with me. My wife
dropped me off at the stadium.
On the rare occasions he took me
out, he talked about nothing but
football. By the time I left him, I knew
more about it than most managers.
A man’s sexual
fantasy is two lesbians
and a donkey making
out to the music of
Match of the Day.
A woman’s sexual
fantasy is a man
doing the hoovering
now and again.
So Victoria Beckham got
pregnant during the last World
Cup. Well it’s nice to see David
had something on target.
She Tarzan, he Jane.