a short victory gloat

PRAISE THE FOOTY GODS, IT HAPPENED! My darling little scandal-rats and wooden spooners won a game yesterday. Roosters vs Tigers, Foundation Cup, 28-10. If I were any prouder I would have to punch myself in the trachea for being so annoying.

Do I care that it was only a trial match? No, darlings, I don’t. Does it sober me up a little when I remember that the Tigers didn’t name a full-strength team? Of course it doesn’t, kittens. Do I think it’s slightly premature and kind of obnoxious to bedazzle ‘SUCK IT SUCHY’* in red white and blue crystals onto the butt of a pair of swimmers and prance about wearing them to taunt/horrify him? Bitch please.

She could be a farmer in those clothes.

Being a footy fan is like being a farmer. You have to cut up the hay while the sun shines. Or some shit like that. You have to make the most of small victories, otherwise before you know it 2002 is a distant memory, your hooker might go to gaol and people start sending you pictures of wooden spoons. The whole hay business is also multiplied by a factor of Matt Cooper’s hotness if you’re a Roosters fan because everyone hates you anyway, so you have nothing to lose.

It’s like when I was a teenager and had my First Proper Job in a charcoal chicken shop. Oh, the greasy, glamorous stench of poultry-based employment!

Ola Chickens!

Turns out chicken-slinging had its downsides. Who would’ve guessed? Downsides like having to regularly shampoo the smell of cooking oil out of your hair, and finding chicken stuffing embedded in your vans/shoelaces/thongs. Yes, I did wear vans, what of it? It was the nineties, don’t judge me.

Also, downsides like having to deal with at least ninety-five men a day who would order a quarter chicken and follow it up with the requisite leering cheeseball ‘I’m a breast man, myself!’ joke even though you SPECIFICALLY ASKED LEG OR WING TO TRY AND AVOID THIS SITUATION. I’M NOT EVEN WEARING A LOW-CUT TOP. GOD.

Wow, now that I write it all down, working in chicken really is like going to a football game, huh? Frequent and unsubtle sexual innuendo and everything!

But the point is this: after spending a day covered in stuffing and pretending to smile at people’s shit jokes, you feel like you deserve something. Even if that something is a free chicken burger you make yourself and a slap on the ass from the cute Russian stockboy. Chicken-slingers and Roosters fans gotta take what life gives em. And this weekend – life gave me a Todd Carney-led Roosters trial match Renaissance. THANKS TODD! I LOVE YOU NOW!

In other news it was actually totally unplanned that my Roosters simile was also about chickens. Amazing. I feel like Lozzy will really appreciate that. [IT'S TRUE. I DO! I would also like to add that I went to this game, and seeing Steggles announced as the major sponsor not only on the giant screen but also across the loudspeaker will NEVER STOP BEING FUNNY  - L ]

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and write ‘TODD 4ORIGIN’ on my forearm in Sharpie.

* Suchy being our Errol bestie, as well as a lifelong Tigers fan.