By Steve Dodd
The ex-footballer’s wife was cold. Shrugging her shoulders in her mink, she stared across at the distant executive box and remembered sipping chardonnay in the warm. Her husband roared some obscenity at the full back, totally engrossed. He was no longer famous but she knew sometime in the game a camera would seek her out. Now he was the bait and she was the cheese, it was her turn to get some attention. She peeled off a glove and took out her cell. Googling her name, she found the website TWILF and smiled, waiting for the zoom lens to find her.
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