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John Terry

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This thread didn't happen. I'mlogging out and tomorrow it won't be here
 
Gary25 said:
Would you take him for a season?

As experienced and as big a leader at the back we could get
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I don't think he'd compliment Matip too well. Matip isn't glacial slow, but he's not the quickest on the turn either, he's more your "stopper" kind of defender, who needs a more mobile player next to him, sweeping up and getting stuck in.

No thanks.
 
It was a decent story. I was waiting for a twist near the end mind, that someone had spunked in his salad or slept with him.

B-
 
Dreambeliever said:
Ha right on que, I was waiting for that.
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1e6
 
I thought the part about the girl getting the suspension letter sounded promising as a jump off point for something juicy and meaty. Then we went on to read about chicken salads, with or without sauce.
 
choperman.v01 said:
I thought the part about the girl getting the suspension letter sounded promising as a jump off point for something juicy and meaty. Then we went on to read about chicken salads, with or without sauce.
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Technically, a chicken caeser salad with sauce would be both juicy and meaty.
 
Mystic said:
When I was 18 and working at my local Pizza Hut, the gigantic thunder cunt decided to come by for a spot of pizza on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Apparently he was out celebrating with some family and friends winning the title the day before, it was a relatively muted affair, a quiet meal at your local shit hole Pizza Hut after a day of shopping, not how I'd celebrate winning the title, but hey, John Terry's hardly known as a classy guy and apparently he had a big game coming up midweek.

Anyway, he was thoroughly professional throughout, our head waiter was a gooner who proclaimed "this is an Arsenal restaurant" upon his arrival to which he retorted "You weren't so invincible this season were ya?!" ahhh what a lad. Upon being seated, news quickly broke out to the kitchen (where the blokes work) that the infamous JT was sitting at table C3, the manager quickly told everyone that no one most bother him, so we obliged, like the faithful drones we were. One girl broke rank however and got herself a signature he dutifully produced for her, he was a man of the people you could say, no complaints, happy to make a girls day. She also got another letter that day, a letter of suspension signed by the manager, quite the haul.

So, the next 30minutes consisted of a rather large number of toilet breaks for the kitchen staff, all strangely opting for the front of house toilets as opposed to the usual staff room toilets out back. This ritual extended to me also, and low and behold there he was, sitting on table C3, with two kids and what looked like another couple (I wonder if it was Wayne Bridge?), it was a thoroughly unremarkable affair, as you'd expect when seeing five human beings sitting around a table in a run down Pizza Hut, but one thing I do remember about him that will always stand out to me was just how fucking massive he was. He was wearing what looked like those shit addidas training shorts you get, and his legs just bulged out of them, he made the chair he was sitting on look like it was from a dolls house he was that big, a truly impressive physical specimen, but I guess that's the difference between a premier league athlete and some twat from Chelmsford who hits the gym after work, the latter being probably the most athletic person I'd have seen with my two eyes before that point.

Anyway, to the order, as I mentioned before he was thoroughly professional throughout, and he had a big game coming up midweek, so he only ordered a chicken caeser salad with no sauce. The two kids had a stag bol each, and the couple had a medium deep pan pepperoni feast, solid choice. Now, this isn't what came out, what came out was the pizza as expected, a kids carbonara, an adult spag bol, and a chicken caeser salad with sauce, now that's hardly exciting, no one shat in his food or anything, but I'll always take pride in the fact that I was involved in the process (I was working cut table) that inadvertently fucked up John Terry's lunch order, and as such ever so slightly inconvenienced him.

He was completely cool with this, didn't mind waiting for the correct food to come out, which is disappointing as I'd kinda hoped he'd live up to his reputation of being a massive bellend, but alas he was a stand up customer. Nige the Arsenal fan did offer the guy a 20% discount for the inconvenience which he declined saying there was no need, a strange thing to offer someone on £100,000 a week, but there you go.

Anyway, after his kids had had a few rounds on the ice cream factory he left and our day of wonder drew to a close, he only left a ten percent tip if I remember rightly, which considering the service provided was generous, but considering his wage was a little tight. Apparently he ended up having some issues with ghosts and sangria later that week, maybe the bad karma of the tip caught up with him. Anyway, this post has little to do with this thread, and little purpose if I'm honest, but I'm stuck on a train outside Ingatestone, so deal with it.

*some elements of this story may have been dramatised in a pathetic attempt to gander more likes from fellow forum dwellers
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Ten Percent. I'd kill for ten percent from Xabi Alonso.

I used to work a couple of evening shifts a week in Neighbourhood restaurant in Woolton (Leafy Liverpool suburb). One night, think it was a Tuesday, we were rammed and Xabi came in looking for a table. We were full so had fuck all, but I loved Xabi, so we got a table out of of the patio, squeezed it in the back of the restaurant, stuck a cloth over it and hey presto. I was swooning for at least an hour, and the bird he was with wasnt bad either. He was polite, and had a couple of beers and a 3 course meal. Finished every scrap of food and really seemed to enjoy himself.

The bill came to £88 exactly. He left £90. I went to cash it out, took his £2 change back and left it on the table. He fucking picked it up, put it in his pocket, and walked out without leaving us a penny. The cheeky cunt.
 
Oh and a few weeks after that, Jermaine fucking Pennant came in with some Page 3 model. He pulled up outside in a £200,000 Ferrari, had about 6 cocktails with his meal, and then fucked off to rattle her everywhere. When I saw him leaving, I was hoping that he wasnt planning on driving home. He did.

I should have rang the bizzies there and then. The prick.
 
This thread must be a WUM attempt, take the full kit wanker for a season? Most players would have to pay to put a full time guard on their wives/girlfriends if we signed that cunt. Nevermind he's well past in on the pitch.
 
Pulis could buy him, and just use him to come off the bench for the last 15 minutes of games and play as a Huth-like extra forward, and he'd probably end up with ten goals in a season. But as a defender he's finished at Premier League level.
 
Sweet lord! Gary has to be on the wind up! Terry has to be one of the most punchable cunts to play the game! I'd rather rim Lucas than see Terry play for the RedMen!
 
Piedro said:
Ten Percent. I'd kill for ten percent from Xabi Alonso.

I used to work a couple of evening shifts a week in Neighbourhood restaurant in Woolton (Leafy Liverpool suburb). One night, think it was a Tuesday, we were rammed and Xabi came in looking for a table. We were full so had fuck all, but I loved Xabi, so we got a table out of of the patio, squeezed it in the back of the restaurant, stuck a cloth over it and hey presto. I was swooning for at least an hour, and the bird he was with wasnt bad either. He was polite, and had a couple of beers and a 3 course meal. Finished every scrap of food and really seemed to enjoy himself.

The bill came to £88 exactly. He left £90. I went to cash it out, took his £2 change back and left it on the table. He fucking picked it up, put it in his pocket, and walked out without leaving us a penny. The cheeky cunt.
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Xabi Alonso is my idol, don't hurt me like this.
 
Mystic said:
Xabi Alonso is my idol, don't hurt me like this.
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I think it's a Spanish thing, they're notorious for not tipping. They're also notorious for going into a bar in large groups and two of them will order a drink.
 
Piedro said:
Oh and a few weeks after that, Jermaine fucking Pennant came in with some Page 3 model. He pulled up outside in a £200,000 Ferrari, had about 6 cocktails with his meal, and then fucked off to rattle her everywhere. When I saw him leaving, I was hoping that he wasnt planning on driving home. He did.

I should have rang the bizzies there and then. The prick.
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Did he tip?
 
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