It isn't every night you walk into Bowes to discover a mess of American girls, drunk from unfamiliar stouts, with one of them claiming to have pleasured Ronaldinho.
She told me quietly I'd be next, if only I wasn't too old and didn't look like her ex-boyfriend.
"But you're much sexier than Ronaldinho, he's all gums and can't speak English."
I took solace in that before they went upon their way and I stayed with Smithwicks and the lads, but I did pass on my number. Just in case, like.
If I'm to stir anyone's soup, it might as well be a former World Player Of The Year.