Weak as p*ss, Pear

There I was, sitting in the excellent Red ‘n Black Spot Cafe in Fletcher St, Essendon this morning, when who should walk in but star Essendon defender, Dustin Fletcher.

I was on my way out.

I looked at him. He looked at me. I looked at him again.

Do you think I had the balls to ask him for the $30?

Nope.

‘Good luck tomorrow, mate,’ was all I could muster.

‘Thanks very much mate,’ he replied, pleasantly.

Almost as bad as the day we saw the Crows get off their team bus and decided we would walk through the middle of them and jostle Tony Modra. Until we saw how big he was up close.

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