Andrew Flintoff and wife at Punchbowl
Phwoar runs etc!
Tue, 21/07/2009 - 14:50 by Drake Scorpio
Andrew Flintoff was out in London last night celebrating his five-wicket haul in the Ashes with his lovely wife Rachel on his arm. All good so far except they decided to go to Guy Ritchie’s Mayfair pub the Punchbowl.
Surely there must be some decent pubs that don't put money in his already bulging pockets?
Cricket fan Piers Morgan was out too, possibly visiting his brother, who runs the pub.
Kevin Pietersen and Paul Collingwood were out at Nobu but no sign of Kevin's Liberty X wife.
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Comments
His name's not really Freddie you know. It's Cunty. Cunty cricket cunt... boring as fuck.
Freddie Flintoff bought me a pint about ten years ago, back when only geeks like me knew who he was. Top bloke he was too.
Why is KP apparently walking like he has shat himself?
Piers Morgan looks like the sort of loud-mouthed cunt who's always standing behind me in airport check-in queues, braying at the top of his posh voice about people called Dominic and Jessica and saying yah nine-thirty instead of yes half-past-fucking-nine. In short, the kind of insufferable twat you would deliberately miss a flight to avoid. (Never met him, mind.)
So, with the medical staff and keenly expectant fans and press awaiting the outcome of tests to determine the robustness of Mr Flintoff's knee in anticipation of his being deemed physiologically sound for participation in the third test, despite his announced imminent retirement from 5 day intensive play ... poor Rachel. 'Hup' you go girl.
"So what first attracted you to the ginger millionaire cricketer?"
"So what first attracted you to the ginger millionaire cricketer?"
So, with the medical staff and keenly expectant fans and press awaiting the outcome of tests to determine the robustness of Mr Flintoff's knee in anticipation of his being deemed physiologically sound for participation in the third test, despite his announced imminent retirement from 5 day intensive play ... poor Rachel. 'Hup' you go girl.
Piers Morgan looks like the sort of loud-mouthed cunt who's always standing behind me in airport check-in queues, braying at the top of his posh voice about people called Dominic and Jessica and saying yah nine-thirty instead of yes half-past-fucking-nine. In short, the kind of insufferable twat you would deliberately miss a flight to avoid. (Never met him, mind.)
Why is KP apparently walking like he has shat himself?
Freddie Flintoff bought me a pint about ten years ago, back when only geeks like me knew who he was. Top bloke he was too.
His name's not really Freddie you know. It's Cunty. Cunty cricket cunt... boring as fuck.