
::: FistedAway today welcomes a guest post from Elliott, editor of the rather lovely Futfanatico :::
A star is born. With criticism flying from all corners of the globe, the Jabulani finally made a public appearance, leaving a lasting impression on all present with her panache, wit, and iron-clad confidence. In summation, think Maradona but a bit less plastic, and a bit more polyurethane.
The questions started off heatedly, with one reporter asking Jabulani about her errant and flighty past. Batting her eyelashes and pausing for effect, she replied in her heart-melting and inspecifically foreign accent – “Well, ze French believe that I am too perfect. And I believe zat I agree.” After a round of laughter and an immediately more relaxed atmosphere, one still serious journalist tried again to knock her off her pedestal. “What of the claims from an Englishman and an Algerian, in less than a week, of being deceived by your initial look?” Jabulani’s face turned stern, but only fleetingly before her trademark smile served prelude to a delicious riff. “Vith my curves, I can only be handled by a man, not a boy.”
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