Kia Ford: The Hammer Girl's English Premiere Production

As the Peacock entourage continued climbing the success table, distancing themselves from development memories, internationally known spur fect Lily White seemed tricked as her table setting tangled with the deceptive trees setting off relegation fears scenarios.

“Tricky trees, are showing profitable franchise numbers,” Kia Ford’s colorful promotional sidekick fowl commentated, “and the Peacocks,”

“Your cousins?”

“Are making moves,” the Peacock, brushed off the question, locking the door.

“About our budget,” Kia Ford confronted, ignoring light snow sprinkling, “we are going to have to do some selling after settling all issues.”

“Like what?”

“I was thinking a rummage sale,” Kia Ford suggested, “there are, aged rum barrels, and we could advertise a sale.”

“Should alleviate a few costs,” the Peacock added, collecting a few travelling necessities, and moving to affordable housing, wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yup,” agreed Kia Ford, “and that is what we are doing today, let's see what Craven is promoting at his cottages.”

Similar to the Leed’s Peacock low budget film business reported ventures, Craven rebuilt his empire, spending time relegated.

“Only a few years ago, this place was dismal,” Kia Ford remarked, entering the showroom.

“They say relegation can turn around a whole operation,” the Peacock positively reassured.

“Oh, looksee there, it's a cricket statue,”

“St. Andrew?” Covering the phone receiver the receptionist addressed, “our founding Father.”

When the land line device returned to its holder, Kia Ford greeted, “we are here, wanting to see the economy lodging section,”

“Are you facing relegation?”

“Yes, we are,” Kia Ford pulled out numerous document papers.

“Then the Eck No area is for you,”

Braving the foul inclement weather, Craven’s representative performed her professional duties, “Hammer girl, may I present to you the Eck No.”

“Heck yes, this has a picture postcard view,” Kia Ford described, allowing the Peacock, a surveying opportunity.

“Very eye appealing,” the Peacock pitched two cents.

“I know it may seem like Craven has nothing today, but we put a lot into winning,” the marketing individual defended, “earning us, passing community standard grades.”

“That is good to hear,” Kia Ford responded, “but I have been browsing forty-five minutes, not obtaining any goals.”

“Must be the weather,” the figure disappeared, replaced by Craven Cottage himself,

“Craven Cottage, what are you doing? Especially on a night, when floating timid flurries fall.”

“Wondering, if you are going to find a goal? During your treacherous relegation times, turning our cold bitterness results, hot,”

“Honestly, actually, after all this relegation talk is over, goal today is increasing my chances in securing a staycation Summerville escape.”

“That is correct,” Craven Cottage noted, referencing the plausible plans.

Upon returning to the welcoming center Kia Ford and the Peacock discovered Craven Cottage’s assistant still answering routine questions, “oh by the way what is your name?” A new customer asked.

“Lilywhite,” the gracious greeter stated, “The Lilywhite, not to be confused with the other Lily White.”

“There is another Lily White?” Mentioned the gentlemen, accompanying his wife.

Later that evening Kia Ford and the Peacock arrived home “you do not think Craven Cottage is trying to get Lilly White relegated, taking her top-notch status away?”

“Stranger things have happened,” the Peacock pointed out, “but I do not think Igor who manages Lily White, will allow that,”

“Whatever, I am going to enjoy my break, not an obligation to get goals for a whole ten days,” Kia Ford reported before seeing Brent Ford holding his ‘do we have a deal’ buzz swarming briefcase, ready to ring the doorbell.

“I will get the FA Cups,” the Peacock offered, realizing one more goal friendly exercise needed attention.