What’s up, me mockers? Frankie here. As Air Gunner’s manager, I’m responsible for all aspects of his career. Now I know there’s been some right Auntie’s Bloomers knocking round ‘bout the lad. What can I say? Comes with the territory. Last I heard they was all banging on about some twist ‘n’ twirl called Reese. Well, I wrote Air Gunner an British Rail, asking ‘im what all the commotion was about. Look, guv’nor, I said, there’s only so many ways we can play this game of gin rummy. I say we call River Nile. I don’t want my star buck running a’ muck with some divorce horse, especially since my Jesse Metcalfe is on the blink.
Well, he got right on the blower to me and promised not to get in a lick with this lass. What can I say? Boy done good. I also asked him to stop biking with that Armstrong as nut cancer does not sell movies. And McConaughey too, as McConaughey does not sell movies neither.
Hope that makes everything crystal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go for a gypsy.