So apparently this week, rugby league is brought to you by The West Wing.  Shit is getting political out Parramatta way. The Parra club board elections are coming up and the 3P rebel squad are running for election.  Except apparently CEO Denis Fitzgerald has been busy sitting in his office chair and stroking his fluffy cat and devising an evil and ingenious way to ensure that doesn’t happen.  ELECTORAL FRAUUUUUD.

If you’re wondering, the Board is supposed to be securing victory by mailing out $30 vouchers for the Parra Leagues Chinese restaurant to any member who sounds vaguely Asian, valid for the night of the election, to try and lure them into the club and get them to vote. Who knew that Chinese people were such fans of Denis Fitzgerald? Not I.

May not be actual Parramatta CEO

First of all, what kind of hack is the person who came up with this? *cough Denis*cough* Couldn’t they at least have come up with something original?  At least two Fijian coups, one US impeachment and the Bolshevik revolution were made possible by the mass distribution of Chicken Chow Mein. Plus this is quite clearly identical to the plot George W. Bush ran in Florida to shonkily defeat Al Gore in 2000. You know it’s true.

Anyway, if I was a 3P supporter, instead of getting riled up, I’d just rest easy. Sif the plan is going to work. When have you ever seen an Chinese person eating Chinese food at a leagues club? I’ve been to many a leagues club in my time, and never have I ever seen an Asian person of any kind putting down their laminated menu and ordering the Sweet and Sour Pork.  Those places are straight up for whities.

I kinda love them though, so if anyone who doesn’t enjoy Leagues Club Sang Choi Bow got one of those babies in the mail, or there are any lurking around Parra, feel free to send it on to Errol HQ. The boys love an outing. Plus better they come to us than end up with the players. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. STOP GIVING JARRYD HAYNE FOOD VOUCHERS.

Meanwhile know what we’re gonna talk about next? Not the Roosters.  Come on down … Tigers!  I kind of enjoy seeing the Storm get beaten. I like to pretend that it’s really Queensland, and they’re being beaten by the Blues. Siiiiigh. The crowd at Leichhardt was going crazy, and at the very last moment ‘the colt from Campbelltown’ Chris Lawrence ran in a truly surprising try.

Benji Marshall does what we all want to.
Pic. Steve Christo

You see Billy Slater is apparently the world’s fastest man, strongest man, best man at driving hatchbacks, best fry cook and possibly Jesus. TV told me so. And I accepted this because I adore TV and don’t believe it would ever lie to me, but apparently … TV WAS WRONG. There is something faster than Billy the Kid and that something is Chris Lawrence.

Chris adopts the downward dog pose to express his joy
Pic. Steve Christo

Even Robbie Farah lifted after his struggles of an effort in Round 5 and gave us an amazing score for our fantasy team.

Do I get to stay in the Wildcats now?

I hope the boys keep up their winning streak too. If nothing else so that Tim Sheens can keep his coaching job.

Meanwhile, Tigers coach Tim Sheens said while his team had suffered two disappointing losses after a reasonable start to the season it was “not at wrist-cutting situation or anything like that”.

Is that a technical footy term, Tim? This is a man who does not have a future in counselling and psychology.

I do have future careers picked out for a few of the boys thought. Craig Fitzgibbon is already Frank-Paul Nuuausala’s recipe-advisor and organic food guru … if he can get Frank-Paul slimmed down, I will be all over the Fitzy’s Cooking range of books and dvds.  Just like Paula Deen! But bald!

I also can’t wait till Steve Price quits footy and hits the road as a deadpan, self-deprecating, Stephen wright-esque comedian:

When captain Steve Price pointed to the posts for Kemp’s penalty, he thought they had done enough. “Then we went in a huddle [for full-time], and I realised it was 16-16,” he said. “Maybe not enough oxygen getting to the brain. It’s funny … but it’s not really funny.”

Oh, Steve.

Meanwhile the other day we announced on Twitter that Michael Gordon is totally in the running for a nomination as Hottest Bitch in League, 2009. And like, actually in the running, not just alive and breathing, which seems to be the only requirement for being in the NSW State of Origin squad.

… we think that counts as a seconding of that nomination. Thanks Joshie Morris.

Screencap from the lovely Art1e.

A special treat for your Sunday night: our Errol bestie (and master tipper) Bec has agreed to guest blog the dirty Broncos playing the dirty, dirty Storm.  FYI: this will be less pervy than we just made it sound.  Enjoy!

Hi kids! I am Bec, sometimes (always) known as Lesbian Bec around these here parts. I have been asked by Kiki, Sassy and Lozzy to step in and perform a guest blog-octomy. So welcome to a very special edition of Friday nights football wrap-up. That’s right, don’t adjust your television set– FRIDAY’S game. The game involving both the Melbourne Storm AND the Brisbane Broncos. These teams are almost never mentioned positively here at Oh Errol, and probably have never been mentioned on this blog when playing each other.

Essentially for the Oh Errol girls this game is the equivalent of having to decide whom they would want to win in a cage match between Ted Bundy and Charles Manson. I suspect they would choose Manson, because that man rocked some crazy facial hair.

So there are several obvious reasons as to why this blog will be different to the usual fare you enjoy:

1. I am neither Kiki, Sassy or Lozzy, nor do I have their skillz

2. I am a lesbian, so the chances of discussing the hot manz-iness of the players is somewhat (completely) diminished

3. I am a filthy Queenslander

4. I am a filthy Queensland who supports the Broncos. And yet, somehow we all still get along. Give peace a chance.

In fact, the Oh Errol girls are my pseudo-girlfriends, because my actual girlfriend can’t stand football. In fact, to portray the extent of her dislike – while I am watching the game, she is in the spare room putting away washing and doing some filing. She dislikes football as much as Melbourne likes complaining about referees. That = A Lot.

This brings me to the game I’m meant to be discussing. After last season’s loss to Melbourne that knocked us out of the comp (I had to read about this to re-learn what happened, because I booked myself in for a lobotomy the day after), the scene was set for one hell of a game. I was excited to see how the Dave Taylor would perform after the recent birth of his baby, who I interpret to be crying because she is scared of being eaten by her giant father:

Hmmm…baby? Or Breakfast Burrito?

Of course, I was also vez excited to see what mean feats of gravity defying Israel could pull off, and I was NOT disappointed. If you haven’t seen it yet, let me show you a picture that pretty much sums up the try he scored:

Is it a bird, is it a plane? No, It’s MOR-MAN!

So with Israel bouncing around scoring tries, and the rest of the players doing their job, I set in for a comfortable, uneventful win for the boys. I should say here that whilst I dislike Melbourne as a group/conglomerate, and find them repugnant during most of the season, I never entirely hate them because they just have so many Queenslanders playing for them, and they are just so good when they are in maroon. This inner conflict causes an uncomfortable feeling inside me, much like what happens when I eat spicy food after midnight.

Anyway, Peter Wallace crossed for a try after the Melbourne players stopped because they thought there was a knock-on. Now, I may not be a footballer, but I would assume that it’s a good idea not to stop playing until the referee actually blows his whistle, bitch. Instead they looked like they were enjoying a game of Red Light, Green Light.

What fun.

Granted, the refs probably should have referred it to the video ref, but because it favoured the team I’m supporting, i’m absolutely fine with the decision. From this point the game became a bit more eventful, and the Broncos almost blew it again. At one point I was sobbing “WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LET US WIN!!!”

Luckily Billy Slater couldn’t quite hang onto a catch near the try line in the dying minutes of the game, and the boys hung on to win for the first time against Melbourne at Suncorp since 2006.

On a side note, I’ve been watching Billy on Rexona’s Greatest Athlete, which pretty much consists of him being perfect in every sporting challenge that is thrown at him. Combined with his being the greatest player in league, as voted last year – I am convinced that he is in fact, a robot. I think he was built in the nineties, and the scientists obviously discovered that the neck is just holding the human race back.

Ties traditionally go around the neck. His must be a clip on.

You might be wondering that if Billy IS in fact a robot, how come he didn’t catch that ball?Well, can you imagine if it were revealed to the human race that robots were amongst us?

There were would be terror, and panic. Chaos in the streets. He has to fake a mistake every so often so that regular people don’t suspect.

SO the Broncos won! Hurrah. See, we don’t need you Uncle Wayne (much)! The Broncos won by one point in the first week, and two points in the second week – maybe by the end of the season we can win by a try.

And so that’s my wrap-up, and the final positive Broncos/Melbourne news for a verrrry long time here at Oh Errol headquarters. To those Queenslanders out there, feel free to re-read my post over and over again until then. Cheers.

Pic: Steve Christo

The Rugby League World Cup is officially over. The final’s been decided.  The boys are all back home either being lauded by the public or eating Easy Mac n Cheese to ease their disappointment.  You can decide for yourselves who is doing what.

They’ve given out the trophy and all the participation certificates for the players’ mums to put on the fridge.  Almost time to put on your Peter Wynn’s Rugby League pyjamas and go into footy hibernation for the summer.  But first, one more r-l-w-c wrap-up.  I warn you in advance that this one is going to be weird.  I feel weird already.  It’s not even the usual feeling funny in my pants, which is pretty much my default state and I’ve kinda gotten used to it.

For one thing: Australia Didn’t Win.  The almost-unbackable favourites, the World Cup juggernauts, the team you love to hate … lost.

zomg I know! I can’t believe it either, eh!

Believe me kittens, I was as shocked as you were.  Shocked and overjoyed. Just like Benji Marshall. I said last week I didn’t know who to cheer for, but after seeing the victorious Kiwis leap around like overjoyed schoolchildren I realise I was totally TEAM KIWI the whole time.

Pic: Steve Christo

My head said it didn’t know, but my heart was painted black and white for this game.  What can I say?  I think some part of me just loves seeing an underdog succeed.

I also love that the Kiwis celebrate by drinking beer shirtless. THAT’S HOW I CELEBRATE TOO! It’s why they won’t let me have my birthday in public venues anymore.

Is it possible that I also just enjoy seeing Queenslanders look disappointed?  WELL MAYBE.  AND IS THAT SO WRONG? It probably is, but whatever.

Clearly it’s not completely abnormal to take pleasure from other people’s misery.  If it was, the Germans wouldn’t have bothered to make up a word for it, would they?  Hmmmmm?

And in case the whole 34-20 New Zealand win wasn’t surprising enough for you, I actually have stuff to say about FOOTBALL today.  For serious.  Not just about their hair (well maybe a little bit), or their uniforms, but stuff about what the boys do with the ball (heh, ball).   Let’s get started before I sober up and change my mind.

FREE BILLY!

So I think we all know I’m not Billy Slater’s biggest cheerleader.  I have said less than flattering things about him in the past for a variety of reasons, including but not limited to:

a) Accusing Flossy Nightingale of headbutting him;

b) Playing for the Storm (booo, hisssss);

and,

c) Being a dirty Queenslander.

Also, sometimes I just irrationally dislike public sporting figures.  Obviously Billy, like Roger Federer and Karmichael Hunt, has never done anything to me personally. Everyone tells me he is the Loveliest Man Ever and they are probably right. Nonetheless, I Decided to dislike him for no particular reason. It’s my way.

But Billy is getting a bitch of a rap in the media at the moment, and I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.  Clearly my love of truth outweighs any silly Slater vendetta.  I’m pretty much Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men.

Except, you know, without the stuff that came afterwards, like the booster shoes and the Scientology and the child-bride.

You see, according to the Herald, a “Billy Slater moment of madness” cost Australia the World Cup.

They mean, of course, that Slater threw a blind pass in from the sideline trying to run the ball back upfield, and it fell into the loving arms of Benji Marshall for a try.  Benji’d been loitering around to Billy’s left instead of jumping back to defend against the oncoming Aussies … and I don’t know whether that makes Benji Marshall an excellent reader of the play, or just a bit out of shape and too tired to get back in defence, but either way it all ended badly.

And yes, it was a really stupid pass.  If I had more energy I would have been frustrated to the point of heartbreak watching it, like I was when Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne did the same thing in Origin.  NOOO BABY HAYNE, NOOOOO!

I totally just had a flashback then and bumped my head on the desk. That game was horrifying.

But you know what?  That’s just Billy Slater doin what Billy Slater does, isn’t it?

…oh, he’s just bein’ Billy.*
Pic: Steve Christo

My theory is that if you want a safety-times conservatively-programmed early-days Darren Lockyer kinda fullback, you don’t pick Billy Slater.

Bitch is … a risk-taker.  Some people might say ‘a showpony’, but that’s not really it. More like some fullbacks do predictable things … and Billy Slater doesn’t. He sets up ridiculous and amazing plays out of pretty much nothing. He likes it. And it seems like he likes dramatical individual plays more than anything.

Yes, he does things that might turn into massive fuck-ups, but most of the time they work.  (This, of course, is also part of the reason I can’t stand him. Damn you Queenslanders for being so good!)

So basically most of the time the people (cept the Oh Errol kids) love him. For every other game in the tournament, it has been a full-on Billy Slater soggy sao love-in.  BILLY THE KID! FASTEST GUN IN THE WEST! BEST FULLBACK IN THE WORLD!

Bitches couldn’t get enough of him.  Maybe that imagery was a little bit crude.  But whatever.  You know what I mean.  Everyone was all over Billy Slater and It was really fucking annoying.

But now as soon as he gives away a try he’s reckless Billy the Kid who can’t defend and doesn’t deserve to be in the team.  I might believe y’all about that if he hadn’t just received the player of the tournament award.  Clearly no one thought he was doing so badly in all the other games the Aussies played.

He also got unfairly labelled Billy the Choker who can’t step up in big games (cf the Storm losing the Grand Final). And I would believe y’all about this if he didn’t set up two tries in the first half. It takes a whole team to win/lose a gf, right?

Basically – I CALL BULLSHIT.  Yeah he made one mistake, but bitch didn’t single-handedly lose the game. You can’t be all over him then change your mind all of a sudden. It’s only cute when I am irrational and change my mind and go from loving to hating a footy player in a matter of hours.  Like the way I’m now defending Billy Slater. DON’T YOU MESS WITH HIM, OK? I GOTS HIS BACK.

And that’s all I have to say about that.  I feel all queasy.  I CAN’T BELIEVE I STUCK UP FOR BILLY SLATER.  Someone get the Dettol bath ready cause I need one … stat.

THERE’S NO ‘BLAME THE RANGA’ IN ‘TEAM’

Since I’m already busting Billy Slater out of media jail today, I’ve decided I’m takin’ Joel Mongahan with me.  WHY DO PEOPLE ALWAYS BLAME THE RANGA?

Pic: Steve Christo

Ok, um, what exactly did Monas do wrong?  He got a bad bounce, decided to go the professional foul, and the Kiwis got a penalty try.  As opposed to … Hohaia just scoring the try? Which, incidentally, it totally looks like he would have, at least if you ask me and the video ref.

Call me crazy but I don’t see the difference. Maybe he moved the conversion to the center for an easier shot at the extra 2 points but two points weren’t gonna save the Kangaroos.  In the end I think it comes down to lackluster defence. Lackluster defence from the Australian team, who seemed that way from the start of the game.  Just kind of … surprised by how the NZ team played and on the whole pretty unfocussed.  And every try the Kiwis scored chipped away at that a bit more, not just the ones that Monaghan or Slater were ‘responsible’ for.

It also seems vaguely arrogant when people try and pin the loss on one individual Aussie, as though the Kiwi’s couldn’t have won it, the Aussies had to lose.  The Kiwis  had so much passion, those kids deserved it.

And didn’t those bitches have hustle?  Right up the middle of the field where the Aussies weren’t expecting it.  I like to think they foxed the first snorefest of a game against Australia just so they could build up to this.  I believe Wayne Bennett would be that crafty.

But whatevs. I think I’ve ranted enough.  Let’s just say for both sides there’s a reason they call it a team sport.  Also, the New Zealanders gave 110%, and took it one play at a time, and the best side won on the day.  Or something.

Let’s also say to Ricky Stuart and his conspiracy theories just no.  Really, honey, no.  Let it go.  There is a chapter in my etiquette book about losing World Cup finals and it specifically recommends against suggesting that there was a conspiracy against you.  For reals.

And to Billy and Joel: if you’re feelin down, call me.  Let’s go to the pub and you two can drown your sorrows and get blind and wave your fruity cocktails in the air for emphasis as you slur ‘THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME. THOSHE BITCHES DON’T KNOWWW ME.’

… AND NOW LET’S TALK ABOUT HAIR

It’ll be quick. I promise. All I really have to say is that Dave Williams is taking this ‘Wolfman’ image really, really seriously. Like woah. As in, I suspect someone has been watching X-Men and grooming their mutton chops to look like Hugh Jackman’s.  And all that volume in the back of the hair … so Wolvy.  Get it?  WOLVERINE?  You know it’s true.

Camera one … are you getting this?

Don’t worry Dave. Secretly, sometimes, we all pretend we’re movie stars.

What, so I’m not on mark? A little to the right you say?

Like sometimes I prance around the house when no one’s home imagining I’m Dolly Parton in the Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.  True story.

And with that completely random confession, it’s goodbye World Cup.  See ya in four years, bitches.

* Just by the way, if you were a Miley Cyrus fan you would find that HILARIOUS.

… Are we all joyful and excited about the Grand Final this weekend, kittens?  Globo Gym vs the boys in maroon?  Oh my god, what a coincidence!  Me either!  So let’s just try and deal with it in the most painless way we can.

Anne: Neely, you know it’s bad to take liquor with those pills.
Neely: They work faster.

The truth is that the lead up to this week’s game has caused nothing but trouble for me.  My night terrors that Melbourne might actually win … again, have been so bad that Intern John-John has started slipping xanax into my bedtime cocktail.  He knows I love my beauty sleep.  Apparently I kept trying to strangle myself with the bedsheet and waking the household up crying and screaming STOP REFERRING TO YOURSELF IN THE THIRD PERSON GREG INGLISSSSS.

Basically, Melbourne Storm have turned my life into Valley of the Dolls.  Except it’s football driving me to the prescription meds bottle instead of a philandering husband or a failing musical career.  That’s kinda sad, right?

On the bright side, at least I finally have a valid reason for why I alway wear ridiculous see-through pastel nighties.

I am also left with the horrible decision of whether to rock up at the game weaing nothing that supports any team, or … god I don’t even think I can say it … something MAROON.  Is there any colour more hateful than maroon?  To quote the always-eloquent Kiki “it’s like red that got shit in it”.

If love was a colour it would be marooooon

Worst of all, my decision to throw all my support behind Manly out of sheer petty dislike for the Storm has caused a giant domestic dispute Chez Sassy.  My brother / flatmate is still on the Manly hate-train, and when he realised on Monday I’m team Manly, he was Not Pleased.  He banged some drawers, I threw a martini, and the whole thing ended with him screaming:

“If you’d been there to seen them beat the Roosters in the semis in 1987 THEN YOU WOULD UNDERSTAND”

This is not necessarily true, because I would have been five, and probably too young to understand hate, understand who won, and/or remember any of those things if I did.  But whatever.  The end result is we’ve started dividing the fridge in two using sticky tape (my side has barely enough room for all my vodka and nailpolishes) and I swear yesterday he maliciously turned on the tap in the kitchen to scald me in the shower.

In other Melbourne news, the boys from south of the border are still on their quest to become the most martyred team in league.  Sacrificial grapple lamb Lamberon Smith is still upset about his suspension, Israel Folau suspects he’s being illegally stopped from leaping by opposition players while the refs do nothing, and Antonio Kaufusi has vowed to win the premiership for his fallen captain.  Yes, yes, we know.  You’re all very noble in the face of persecution.  Saint George the martyr has nothing on you kids.

I would make some kind of jokes about all that but to be honest I didn’t really read all those articles. They weren’t nearly as interesting as the news about Joyce Churchill.

JOYCE CHURCHILL was married to the greatest fullback of all time … but she has a soft spot for another. Asked which player’s neck she would most like to dangle the Clive Churchill Medal from as the man of the match from this Sunday’s grand final, she replies: “Billy Slater. I like him. I’d like to cuddle him.”

Joyce! You floozy!  Just quietly, we Errol girls do love a cuddle, too. We get it! I’m guessing Joyce would have some strong opinions on the Important Question of who should take out this year’s snuggliest man in league.  She’d certainly support our plan to individually snuggle each of the nominees to make sure our decision is correct.

I also think she would enjoy dropping by the Errol offices for an afternoon sherry or ten and a gossip.  I’m totally up for it.  Call me Joyce!  I’ll bake!

(By ‘bake’, obviously I mean ‘I’ll send Lachie down to the Bourke Street bakery for eclairs and pretend that I baked’).

And in news that honestly almost makes me wanna move to Queensland, the Gold Coast Titans have decided to bring in the dollars by setting up their own betting agency, and because they are intensely lateral and creative souls, they have called it Titanbet.

Fuck off Titans, this is amazing.  All the other leagues clubs are watching their punters push money into pokies to make a few extra bucks, not you Titans.  They’ve decided to screw that, and go straight into TAB-style punting.  They care not for the fact that they will be making money from people placing bets on events including the competition they participate in.  Conflict of interest?  What conflict of interest?  Here, have a palm tree-patterned betting card!

I love it.  More than anything I hope that they send the boys in when they’re injured and in the off-season to man the booths.  You know it would be good for business.  If you can’t trust Scott Prince with your bets, who can you trust?

Also, if we’ve learned anything from the Simpsons it’s that the best way to deal with a tropical community is to introduce gambling.  I hope the next item on the Titans’ agenda is to build an island casino.

Island native: If God is all-powerful, why does he care if we worship him?

Homer: God is powerful, but insecure. Like Barbra Streisand before James Brolin.

Island blackjack!  Island roulette! The possibilities are endless.  If anything can keep rugby league solvent then it’s the wonders of casino gambling.  Note to David Gallop: begin investigating themed casinos.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to have a nap.  I think the downers are kicking in.

pic: Colleen Petch via news.com.au

Oh yeah, that’s the stuff.

So you might not know this, but we Errol girls are tres spiritual.  Over in the corner at Errol HQ, just between the hanging egg chair and the booze cabinet, we have a little footy shrine.  It has fairy lights and everything.

On Friday afternoons we light a few tea light candles, leave a cold schooner as an offering to the Gods of Footy, and ask the universe for a weekend of exciting games, for wins for our beloved babies, and, just sometimes, for some teams to lose.

After that we like to finish off our Friday dacquiris, send the boys home, crank up the T.Rex and more often than not end up dancing to Britney on a podium at Stonewall at about 5am. True story.

But that’s neither here nor there.

What’s really important is that THIS WEEK IT HAPPENED. We prayed for an underdog victory by the Warriors and it came true.

They (including me in my Nova footy tips) said that the eighth-placed team would never beat the minor premiers. But clearly they didn’t factor in that Errol is totes hooked up with the universe.  On Sunday night, the Warriors defeated the Storm and bitches, it was magical.

HALLELUJAH!

Let’s relive the good times (in point form because I am too tired for play-by-play).

IAN HENDERSON WILL CUT A BITCH

MATTY GEYER STARTED IT! HE CALLED ME NAMES!
pic: George Salpigtidis

Is Lozzy right? Is it the beards? Are they full of dark and delicious evil and starting to possess the owners?  (Which just by the way would be totally awesome). Because the Warriors were pissed on Sunday night. And none more pissed than fiesty little Ian ’stop calling me Brian’ Henderson.

On Friday night when Braith Anasta and Justin Hodges squared up at the Footy Stadium I thought fo sho at least one of those bitches was gon get her weave ripped out.

When Henderson squared up against seemingly every single member of the Storm, I thought someone was gonna lose a whole row of teeth. His fists of fury were just waiting for an excuse to punch someone.

And I won’t lie, I kind of loved it.

Not just because I have a not-so-secret aggressive streak (I blame my high school water polo career), but because it makes me think everybody hates the Storm.  Even Steve Price was feelin angry.  Steve Price!  Amazing. Next thing I’ll find out Craig Fitzgibbon doesn’t like Brent Tate or something and my life will officially be complete.

Hendo, I salute your rage.

MICHAEL WITT IS A TOOL

I admitted a little while ago that I felt a little bit of Witty-love creeping up on me.  It seemed like out of nowhere the Warriors were a festival of facial hair and Mr. Witt was the proud new owner of a gleaming ginger mo.  I suspect that a lesser man would have reacted to the shame of a surprise ginge tinge with either their razor or a box of Just for Men for Beards (it really exists, I swear), but Witty has soldiered on with the tangerine lip.

He’s sacrificed vanity for team spirit and hilarity.  And as someone who has gone to dress-up parties as a half-dead abduction victim complete with fake blood clearly I care not for vanity. (It was a Twin Peaks party, if you’re wondering. I don’t just enjoy imitating victims of crime).

pic: Photo Sports

Well bitch has completely won me over now. As final try-scorer thanks to a barnstorming run from the fucking fierce Manu Vatuvei, he didn’t just put the ball down.  He held it over his head and taunted the storm chasers.  HE TAUNTED THE BEAST!  Bitch is pretty much the Will Smith of Rugby League right now. He flew right into that death star. Wait, that was Independence Day. WHATEVER. In my mind he also spat out a pithy one-liner when Cameron Smith couldn’t reach him in time and crumpled to the ground next to him.

Best of all, he got in trouble with the coach and big brother Pricey for the taunting and said this:

“I actually thought that there was only one dude chasing me and I thought when I stepped him right at the end I could just stand in the in-goal and waste time standing there before I put the ball down. But someone else was right there so I ended up looking like a bit of a tool and a big-noter.”

OOPS. SOZ IVAN CLEARY AND STEVE PRICE! DIDN’T MEAN TO ACT LIKE A TOOL.

I say it was worth looking like a tool Witty to see the Storm look bitter and disappointed. Oh yeah, this is what they call Rugby League, boys.  Welcome to my world.

That’s actually why you won’t be getting a Broncos-Roosters post this week, by the way, kittens.  IT’S JUST TOO PAINFUL.  The second-half collapse ripped my heart out. The only thing that comforts me is thinking that maybe, just maybe, the loss to the Broncos was a scheme of diabolical genius from Brad ‘Freddy’ Fittler. That loss is what put the Roosters on the opposite side of the draw from Melbourne. GASP!

pic: Getty Images

I know, I know, so maybe he doesn’t really strike you at first glance as an evil genius, but you know he’s hiding something behind that chuckle. No one looks that content and relaxed all the time unless secretly they are pulling the puppet strings on everything around them.

Or if they do, they probably wouldn’t be able to, you know, dress themselves or open doors.

HE IS A MACHIAVELLIAN GENIUS, OK? Don’t crush my delusions. Just trust me on this one.

NO NO NO NO NO

First of all, thanks for lending me your commentary catchphrase as my heading, Phil Gould.

As for you, vanquished captain Cameron Smith: this could have been a perfect opportunity to win me over. Which, obviously, is at the top of your list of TOP TEN VERY IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO: 1. MAKE SASSY LOVE ME.

As I was cackling with delight at the Warriors miracle win, there was a moment where Cam Smith could have said WELL DONE WARRIORS and a smidgen of empathy might have led me to start being justalittlebit fond of you.  But no. Instead I got:

“No disrespect to the Warriors, but we lost the game yesterday, I don’t think they beat us. That’s not being arrogant. If we didn’t give away so many penalties, we would have won the game.”

Are you trying to make me dislike you now?  Because I really like Hazy and co.  And I have been trying to like the Storm, for our loyal readers’ sake if nothing else. AND YOU KEEP COCKING IT UP.  Work with me, Cameron darling. Work with me.

Compliment the team who beat you.  Just a little!  It won’t hurt.  It can even be grudging, if you like.  Or if you can’t bring yourself to tell them they played well, at least tell them you like their bushranger beards.  Something.  Anything.  Sigh.

(I’ll give you a hint, calling them whingers doesn’t count.)

“It worked for them, didn’t it?” Smith said. “It’s certainly something that we don’t do. The referee’s out there to do a job. We don’t ever go out there to try and ask him to give us penalties or anything like that. He’s the one with the whistle and he’s got to make up his own mind but it’s a tactic that worked for them, so good on them.

“They should be refereeing the game by how they see it, not what they’re hearing from opposition players.”

“I think you’d be pretty hard up to try and find some footage of any of our players whingeing about what other teams do to us,” he said. “That’s just the way we’re coached, just to get on playing footy.”

STOP YOUR WHINGING PRICEY!

All I can say to that is NO NO NO NO NO (TM Phil Gould).

Finally, in other news I should also say that the race for best hair in league is getting closer and closer. You could throw a blanket over the field! Mmmm blankie. I had thought Dave Williams had it in the bag, but Ruben Wiki was looking extra Soul Glo-y on Sunday night.  Plus obviously he is just completely adorable. GOD OUR WORK IS JUST SO DIFFICULT SOMETIMES.

Back to the Errol drawing board I guess.  Actually can someone replace the drawing board paper?

No, not you Lachie … John John’s been sketching again. I’ll tell you what he sketched when you get older.

Someone else?  I need a fresh bit of paper on it so I can cover it with STORM SUX comics and MRS WITT written 95 times in calligraphy. Thanks, Intern Brownie.

We should have known that the dramaz from Monday night’s Storm vs Dragons game weren’t going anywhere. But usually we’re the ones responsible for the rage and the profanity in our office. We were not expecting Intern Brownie to get on the Dragons video site and lose his shit. We never let him out! he must have snuck out his window while we were having our afternoon naps. And by ‘having our afternoon naps’ I mean ‘lying passed out on the lounge from our lunchtime woines’. He’s tricksy that Brownie.

But lose his shit he did. Bitch was PISSED.

Usually he’s so benevolent and snuggly. The kind of man who’s problem as a coach is that the players aren’t scared of him.  I can’t help but think that being around us every day has made him a cranky bitch. And I for one like it. Go Brownie go! An intern in my own image! We could not be prouder if he was our own kid.

And do you know what? Brownie was right on the money. Maybe our smarts are catching too?

It’s not Melbourne’s fault … the storm have got all the tricks, they grab pressure points. They tell you they don’t practice, they do. They’ve even got a new one where they rub their shin on your achilles, which is very painful.

We went down there to give a little bit back and basically Jamie Soward got grappled, and he got put in the sin bin. I don’t have a problem with the storm play, what I have a problem with is the officials saying they’re gonna cut it out of the game and they don’t.

Tell you what I do not approve of though: I hate when anyone tries to play the sympathy game with me. Oh, but wait. Brownie, do you want to clarify what I mean?

They accused Jason Nightingale of headbutting … he headbutted Billy Slater’s fists. The only thing Jason Nightingale did wrong is he didn’t headbutt him hard enough as far as I’m concerned.

If you’re gonna beat them that’s what you’ve got to do, because they play within the rules that the officials allow them to play in.

 

Brownie’s being serious. Billy Slater pleaded innocence because Nightingale head-butted him. But I saw no heabutts, and Foxtel IQ does not lie. Oh, Billy. Maybe it was someone else? But I definitely say it wasn’t little Flossy. I don’t like this at all! And we were getting along so well.

The truth is when you ran in and defended Cooper Cronk on the field with your arms a-swinging I was all over it. I love league violence! And when the ref sin-binned you and you smiled as you ran-off field, I almost giggled a little. Truly, I did.But then you go and ruin it by being sooky in front of the judiciary. Unacceptable!

I also have decided I do not approve of the heinous Melbourne Storm fans (except Hazy of course, love). I am all for new rugby league fans, but sometimes when you go and watch rugby league, it helps if … you know, you know the rules? Not all of them, mind you (I certainly don’t), but just the easy ones.

Like that tackling is allowed, and you don’t boo Every Single Time someone tackles a Storm player. Or that cowbells are never, ever acceptable. Or even that it is not ordained by God that your team should always win. Eventually, like every other team has at some point, your team will suck. So be nice to other fans. Hopefully then they will be nice to you if Israel Folau gets sent on his Mormon mission, or Greg Inglis is poached to union, or Storm Man falls off his quad bike.

I am, however, all for Brownie’s plan to solve this problem with more violence.  Violence solves everything!  My mama taught me that.

Sadly my dreams of extreme rugby league bloodsports were crushed when my other most-loved league coach Brad Fittler announced he is not down with the wrestlemania play At All.

“I think this style of game is pretty crap”.

But … but, Brownie said I could! He did! I swear! Braaaaaaaad, can’t I watch people have their arms ripped off?

Freddy never lets me do ANYTHING.

So as I said previously, I am not going to recap this game. However, too much awesome dramaaaz occured for me to ignore it completely.

First of all, let us talk about my boys sporting a pink V. Oh, they looked so LOVELY. Just lovely. The pink V has magical powers because one look at Gasnier in his and the palpable rage I feel for him quickly dissipated.

I did however notice he was a total man island in the changeroom. Everyone was totally ignoring him, even his former husband Hot Bitch Cooper. THEY BE PISSED AT YOU GAZ. By the way, Hornbag is totally Unimpressed by your contributions to the proceedings.

Now lets talk about Hot Bitch in his pink V. Ooooooh mama. On anyone else, pink seems to subdue masculinity, softening it into something benevolent and approachable. Not our Hot Bitch. The juxtaposition of pink on a man stallion of Cooper’s calibre was something quite remarkable. The pink somehow managed to make him seem more virile. I didn’t know that was even possible, but it is. He prowled that field like a lion in the savannah. All rippling muscles, manly potency and carefully controlled aggression. Lets not even talk about when it STARTED TO RAIN. It made my pink V really really happy. See what I did there? Made a dirty joke! Because Pink V is a metaphor for vagina. GET IT?

Okay lets talk about Mick Crocker. Forget headgear, the man needs to invest in a helmet for game days. He is way beyond modern aerodynamic cycling helmets. Mick has suffered so many brain injuries he needs help from the 1980s. Bitch needs a Stack Hat.

While we are talking about Crocker’s head, lets discuss what in Gods name is up with his hair. There is alot of balding men in the NRL, but Crocker doesn’t fit easily into that category. I don’t even think he’s balding. This is an entire new strain of hair weirdness. I have never seen hair like his on another man. Ever ever ever. Let us carefully and professionally examine this oddity -

There is only one conclusion. He suffers from chronic hair thinness and has sought to rectify the situation by using hair in a can. Thankyou Jerome Russell! Sorry Mick baby, but you’re gonna have to surrender your hair to airport security when you leave for England in 09. You know full well aerosols aren’t permitted on international flights.

Ryles getting sent off. Oh dear, Gavin Badger…you really are a twat of epic proportions aren’t you? Referee boss Robert Finch has already come out and said you were wrong, so lucky for you I am going to skip chastising you for now. Thank your lucky stars because I was totally gonna hurt you with my words of poison. Poison words!

Okay, so onto the fight. FIIIIIIIGGGGHT! I love fights. I love how quickly a civilised, professional game of rugby league can descend into mob violence. It makes me happy in my soul. And last nite was an absolute doozy. This shit was Origin worthy. It even had stages, three of them. The whole thing still seems surreal to me. Out of all the people to be involved in biff I cannot believe that it involved Tiny Dancer Soward, Flossy Nightingale and Billy I-Love-Pony-Club Slater. REALLY? You guys? REALLLY??

The best thing about this fight was the fact that PonyClub Slater rushed in from across the field to defend his boyfriend Cooper Cronk. Ain’t nobody be messin with my maaaans! (In my mind he’s a ghettofied black woman). Yes Billy, god forbid the tiny tiny Jamie Soward object to your boyfriend being a dirty little niggler. OH NOES!

You know Billy spent the whole time in the sin bin filing his ghetto nails and combing his fierce weave. Trust.

The second best thing about this dramaz is the way Hot Bitch Cooper stepped in and tried to break it up. Oh, that Coops, hes so measured in his responses. No flying off the handle for this perfect specicmen of a man. Oh no. Together with Hornbag he calmly and steadily grabbed players and steered them away from the fracas. And they obeyed him. Who wouldn’t?

My league loving friend Alex (hi boofhead!) sent me a text saying something like “look at Cooper breaking up the fight. He has such….presence”. Yeh, thats totally straight man code for I WOULD BEND OVER FOR MATT COOPER. It’s okay Alex, we all would.

(The magnificence above is thanks to our new account at Getty Images. I don’t want even want to say how much we paid for it. Lets just say when I turn it into a doona cover it will be totally worth it.)