A (foureyes) production  Ex-Preston, Everton, Manchester United, Real Sociedad, Sunderland, and West Ham United football manager floats about Stratford one evening. 

"In the evening-time, Kumar’s All Store in Stratford is electric. I was in there buying an emergency Lion Bar, some spiced Polish sausage, pickled mushrooms, and oranges. It’s a well-kept place: bottled water lining the fridge units; bagged confectionery adorning the serving hole; unpopular things, long Turkish breads, tinned chickpeas and beets at the back of the shop, lit by the fly killer. Spitting away. 

I picked up a Badger shaving brush and inspected it, thinking about the smooth neck and jawline it promised. There was something about the flush curvature of its hairs which was pleasing to the touch, and I flicked it back and forth against my palm, translating the sensation to my face in my mind.

‘Don’t often see a young man like you with a thing like that’, said a man..."

An unexpected liaison. 

An admirer. 

A fly-killer. 

Kouyaté's cooking. 

All of the ingredients are there. And a sort of whisk.  Flash fiction? Erotica? Nonsense? Yes.