Georgie Best

I remember my dad once lifting himself out of the chair with his Saturday shirt on, aghast, leaping at the Ferguson
“ohh Jaysis look at that skill” George Supermodel Best rambling around the green, still drunk, dancing at them in his red, long haired like an Ard Ri whistling at a crowd of opposing support and without looking, buried it, hammered it home to them, the greatest the greatest that ever was and my father would slip back into his favourite chair and say “I told you” he’d be weeping slowly.

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