And she’s a looker… perhaps

There was a time, probably back in 2007 (great days!), when the world was a much more innocent place. You could step out of your front door without having to dodge frenzied knife attacks, and any woman lucky enough to be granted a place at Jermain Defoe’s seductively lit bedside would jump at the chance. Proudly.

Unfortunately, with the rise of things like rap music and hooded t-shirts has come a decline in standards, and now everyone hates each other, and women are so afraid of the jealous outrage that they might cause, so they deem it necessary to accept Defoe’s gentlemanly loins in secret. As seen only last night at London’s most glorious restaurant Cipriani.

Defoe had landed himself a fantastic bedmate, but rather than unashamedly leading her to his chariot via the front exit, she chose to creep out of the back, shrouding her head in some kind of coat/blanket, while he waited in the car, patiently picking his nose.

Who is this mystery girl?