A Fine Bromance.

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Picture The Scene. Sloane Street. London. 10-52…

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 An empty sherbet, flagged down by a bald good-looking bloke,
Says, clearly desperate to get his derriere up and on the go,
“Driver, please take me to The Chelsea Arts Club a.s.a.p.
and could you do so on the hurry-up, before closing, please?”,

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 This is very much mission-far-from impossible in the cabby’s eyes
The Arts Club being no more than half a mile as the pigeon flies’
Said cabby instantly recognises Luca Vialli, as his fare sat in the back
Chelsea footballer, South West London icon, amore o’ the chaps.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 For the first time in 33 years of driving around London streets
The cabby finds himself a gibbering star-struck eejit telling Mr V
How much he loves him, as his sherbet’s haring down the road
Reminiscing on the previous season’s, stunning Old Trafford goal.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Pulling up outside The Arts Club, B.A jumps out of his seat
Opens the passenger door for Luca, a rare if ever cabby feat
Refusing the jacks showing on the clock, is this a joke or what?
“Overcome by the emotion of the moment son?”, B.A later scoffs.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Despite closing time approaching, without taking time to blink
Vialli Thanks and hugs B.A, then disappears to grab a tiddly wink
Leaving B.A star-stuck on the pavement, loving his amore even more
Leaning shell-shocked against his sherbet, jaw down on the floor.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 All of which beyond all doubt shows the class and quality of The Man
Fun loving, living life to the full, but taking time out to leave a fan
Especially working people, and this mate o’ mine, feeling like a King
What a mensch, what a life, and what a blinding strike struck in.

8 Leave a comment on verse 8 0 Driving starry-eyed, along the Fulham Road, en route to South Ken
A poignant Old Trafford memory, as if on cue comes purring back again…
“When that ball hit the deck, in the back o’ The Old Trafford net
On a night, none of us Blues will ever forget…That’s Vialli”.

9 Leave a comment on verse 9 0 Pace.



A,N. The above poem is loosely based on a story, a mate o’ mine, (said sherbet driver), told me, about meeting one of the most-humble human beings, ever to both grace the field of play, and touch other peoples lives in our beautiful game, simply by being, what we all of us (would I hope?) aspire to be,…himself.

Grazie, for the many beautiful, and everlasting memories Gian-Luca. For those of us fortunate to have met you, seen you play, and manage, over at, “The Bridge”. You will always be, for us here in South-West London, “One o’ the chaps”. Buona notte. May your God go with you man. Dormi bene. Riposa in pace.

London lingo. Sherbet…dab. Cab. Jacks…alive. Five, pounds, an absolute fortune when this triffic tale in a taxi took place, so, my mate must have indeed been star-struck. Tiddly wink…drink. Thanks for reading. L8ers…Kev. Pace.

Source: https://footballpoets.org/poems/a-fine-bromance-picture-the-scene-sloan-street-london-10-52-p-m/