Thursday, March 10, 2005
Bryan Robson
He squats with a ball, his uniform too tight -
Like a gnome in the throes of a growing potion,
Towering over his toadstool.
“Best wishes, Bryan Robson.”
He beams.
Nominally a Liverpool fan,
I treasured this prize;
Not having a local team,
I took my heroes where I found them.
His soccer skills book has gone,
The autograph remains:
Stuck to my wardrobe above the
Radio Times cover –
Jonathan Ross and Ricky Gervais, smiling.
Is this any way for a twenty six year old man to live?
I don’t even like him.
|
He squats with a ball, his uniform too tight -
Like a gnome in the throes of a growing potion,
Towering over his toadstool.
“Best wishes, Bryan Robson.”
He beams.
Nominally a Liverpool fan,
I treasured this prize;
Not having a local team,
I took my heroes where I found them.
His soccer skills book has gone,
The autograph remains:
Stuck to my wardrobe above the
Radio Times cover –
Jonathan Ross and Ricky Gervais, smiling.
Is this any way for a twenty six year old man to live?
I don’t even like him.
|
