Prawnie is loving the outrage stirred-up by Giselle letting slip that Tom Brady’s brain is slopping around inside his melon like a wombat in a sugar sack.

We’ve all seen him go down. We’ve all seen him take a quarter to find his mojo again after a heavy sack.
Admittedly it’s rare. For a QB, he’s a tough bastard.
In fact he’s as hard as the cryptic crossword, strong as a Mallee bull, fit as trout full of semen.
But I digress.
His Mrs would know better than any franchise medico if he’s been acting a bit wonky. And apart from him, she’s got the most to lose if he starts forgetting his banking passwords..
The other thing is: Giselle loves Tom. Almost as much as Tom does.
So Prawnie is leaning her way when she starts spruiking some of her concerns.
She’s worried he might be doing long term damage to his loaf of bread.
Brain damage creeps up. Suddenly she notices old Tom’s watch is a bit slow. Know what I mean?
To my mind, it’s far more likely the Pats — with Tom’s help — would fudge over the odd concussion, extend the myth, stretch the career.
I’m keeping a cynical little eye on this one.

What’s your thoughts?

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