Quarantine got me thinking. You know what they say- “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop”. And so, I began to delve myself deeply within fictitious storylines with one of Manchester United’s attackers. No, it’s not what you think…
One of my many, many musings (I know, I know, I’m lonely. But hey, you’re still reading this), I wondered how it would be to spend this period of isolation with one of Manchester United’s up and coming talents.
So off I went to Manchester and there I stood on the front porch of his palatial brick home. I quivered with excitement as I knocked on his door.
With a smile that had all the markings of a madman was Manchester United’s next big thing, the next Ronaldo, their answer to Pele and Maradona (as proclaimed by the Youtube fan page. Do not attempt to contact the author).
Jesse Lingard extended a really warm welcome. Not too hot, not too cold, pleasantly warm. Akin to what he does to the benches at Manchester United.
After a tight hug and plenty of wacky dance moves, I was shown to my room. A thorough cleaning later, I made my way down for dinner.
“0 fat and 0 carbs”, he stated. “Just the way I like it”. Dinner comprised of just two eggs, served side by side. If the message still hasn’t been driven into that skull of yours yes, I’m talking about his extraordinary statistic of 0 goals and 0 assists in the Premier League.
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After dinner on day 0 (no deeper meaning here, shoo) Jesse or JLingz, as he wanted me to call him, invited me upstairs for a little entertainment. I did the only thing I could possibly do; accept his summons with a gentle smile and pray to the Lord Almighty that I wouldn’t be subjected to another round of dabbing and headbanging.
However, when he announced that he was putting on a magic show, I was extremely thrilled. Lingard’s magic has won admirers throughout the globe. The centrepiece of his routine is his disappearing act, which has crowds thronging to Manchester United to witness the 27-year-old teenage sensation vanish into thin air. Ah, the irony.
H.G.Wells seemed more adept at astrology than Nostradamus at this point.
Jesse’s gig ended with him staging the perfect pickpocketing demonstration. How he managed to get a hold of my wallet, which at the time was safely nestled in the back pocket of my jeans, one will never know. But I guess I mustn’t be too flummoxed about the whole thievery skit given that the future Ballon d’Or winner has stolen a living right under the noses of Ed Woodward and co.
We then made our way to the yard. It was there I witnessed Jesse at the peak of his footballing powers. He pointed to a tree 10m away and said: “I am going to hit that in 10 shots, can you do it in a 100?”. Albeit a difficult skill to master, Lingard’s attempts were within a whisker of the intended target. Not one ball was kicked into the neighbour’s backyard. (Story not based on memes found on the internet. To put it colloquially, don’t ‘@’ me).
Day 0 came to an end with me tucking myself to sleep. I cried myself to sleep in the hope that I would not be awoken by a “mornlingz here” song. God save me.
*The above post was meant to offend no one and was written with humorous intent.