What’s the story

A few of my very close mates went for a quick pint or ten down to the famous Sun Inn pub in beautiful Barnes on Sunday afternoon when who should swagger up and pull up a pew but (The Kid) Liam Gallagher himself. “Do you boys mind if I join yer like?”
Neigh bother big man, was the overawed reply. For the next twenty minutes he talked to himself about himself rather than listen to anything anyone else said. Typical. On the subject of Robbie Williams – Liam reached over and stroked my friend’s chin, and says: I’m gonna cut that prick from ‘ere to ‘ere! (Draws a line down his chest.) Now play nicely boys.

After a while Alan White, Oasis’ long-standing drummer, bowls up and says to Liam: Who the fuck are these twats? Normally the reaction of six beered-up lads to that one would have been a hard stamping – “No man these boys are alright,” from scruffy Liam himself – the situation diffused. Liam had given his seal of approval to the biggest bunch of monkey half-wits I know.

Sporting a cravat and shaggy haircut, Liam finished with “Our kid writes the best songs and were the fucking biggest rock’n’roll band in the world and that Wembley gig, I gonna fuckin hav’ it! (Referring to the gig the boys and me are rockin’ up to on July 22.) I see you boys later. Have a nice one.”

Cheers Liam – you have a nice one. You’re a fuckin’ legend.