Never read Errol before? Then you might not realise that we often find ourselves in awkward situations. Like the time we had to interview John Cartwright in a food court outside MacDonalds.

Or the time I had to go out on the field at Leichhardt Oval after a NSW Cup game to interview the players. Instead of walking around to the big gate, I decided to just step over the little fence in front of the Grandstand …. and got stuck on it. Literally. Right leg on the field, left leg in the stands, and the crotch of my opaque tights snagged on a curl of wire on the top of the fence. Have you ever tried to unsnag the crotch of a pair of tights from a mini-hurricane fence in front of two NSW Cup teams, while holding a giant video camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other? It was … elegant.

Apparently we have some kind of embarassing NSW cup reggies mojo going on at Leichhardt Oval in particular cause it keeps getting Kiki too. When the Tigers played Wests she tripped over her thong running to get an interview and fell face-first onto the concrete walkway in front of a terrified and aghast Robbie Farah.

When the Tigers played the Central Coast Centurions she found herself standing in line at the kiosk window waiting for a snack. All of a sudden she realised – and if you know Kiki you’ll know that this made her really, really happy – that there were cheesedogs on the menu.

If Tim Sheens is reading this it must be like looking in a mirror.

CHEESEDOGS!

She exclaimed with joy, just as the man at the front of the queue turned around to leave and came face to face with her.

You know that moment when a person turns around and you realise you recognise them, so say “Hi! [Insert name here]! It’s you!”  Well, it was just like that.

Except that the man, friends, wasn’t a friend of ours. It was Tim Sheens. And, well, we’ve never met Tim Sheens. Also, Tim Sheens is generally known as either Tim Sheens, or ‘Sheensy’, no? And no, she didn’t say ‘SHEENSY’. Instead she literally yelled CHEESEDOGS in Tim Sheens’ face. He looked mortified. It was mortifying. And now, forevermore, we will call him Tim “Cheesedogs” Sheens.

… nyello, Cheesedogs speaking?
Pic. Getty Images

And now we have a new Special Moment to add to the Big Book of Errol Awkward: the time Sassy sms-ed Ryan Girdler. Remember Girds? The Penrith champion, ladies’ fave, former tv star and generally super-nice human being? the boys at Rugby League Player mag kindly let us do an interview with him for the next issue, knowing that we think he’s talented/lovely/interesting etc. We couldn’t get him on the phone to begin with, so I saved his number to try again.

Pic. Getty Images

That weekend, a good friend hit a bit of a rough spot: the kind that needs cocktails and hugs and other things of that nature. So I wrote a message that I’m 99% sure said:

“Hi babe, obviously I’m a bit out of the loop, but sending you all my love darlin xx s”

THEN I SENT IT TO RYAN GIRDLER. KILL ME NOW. At least I didn’t realise for like five days so I had five days of blissful ignorance. Why am I so embarassing?

Even Mitchell Pearce, the Patron Saint of Looking Awkward in Photos, doesn’t have any answers.
Pic. Getty Images

But anyway, let’s talk about footy and how it totally soothed the pain of being a really embarassing human.

My chookies were playing the bye this week (it was a close finish, but they kicked its ass) so I could watch the games without stressing and goddamn they were good. Not good if you are a fan of: ball control, defence, good refereeing, or the Sharks, but good for me.

Dragons vs Sharks, Sea Eagles vs Rabbitohs, Tigers vs Raiders: three of the most exciting games I’ve watched this year.

And apparently for the Tigers it was one of the best games to play all year, because Nips Farah got so excited he actually ran to the crowd for high-fives. NIPS TOUCHED PEOPLE! He never touches people! It’s proof that even after your team murders eight tries in eighty minutes, miracles can still happen at the Lilyfield Rectangle.

Special love from that game goes to Chris Heighington, for being a beast and playing like one; to Nips, for bein’ Nips; and to Jarrod Croker and Joel Thompson for representing for the baby Raiders.

Whee! I helped!

Pic. Getty Images

Footy also helped because, as always, awkward shit happened. Awkward and hilarious shit, mainly thanks to Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. Not only did he get completely outraged after a Sharks player tackled him off the field and kneed him in the buttock, he then scored one of the top ten most hilarious tries in history. Trapped between two Sharks, he looked around shiftily, bit his lip, reached out his arm like he was trying to stealthily steal something from a museum, and gently puffed the ball onto the line. It was pure Flossy magic. We rewound it and rewatched it four times.

…. Yoink!

Did I do good?

Screencaps thanks to the awesomeness that is Australia Votes.

Happy Monday, kids!

Well, that was an eventful few weeks. We leave the internet for 10 days and all hell breaks loose.

What was meant to happen in the last week was this: we would head down to our nation’s capital for the Raiders vs Titans, do a little bit of work, relax a little, maybe hit up Questacon or ride bikes around Lake Burley-Griffin, and head home. Then we’d do some typey-typey for some new projects we’re working on and come back to Errol as if nothing had happened.

BUT NO.

In the interim league went fucking insane. First Billy Slater and Jarryd Hayne got involved in a Melbourne vs Parramatta headbutt spite-fest at Parramatta Stadium. This, as we all know led to the Gayest Fight in Football History.

No, we don’t mean ‘gay’ as a derogatory term. We love gays. We mean it literally. Fierce bitch Cooper Cronk was not having any of this, and ran in to protect his fullback Billy Slater. Have you seen his face? We wouldn’t want anyone headbutting it either. He’s adorable. So far, so logical.

We saw Cooper running in … then Cooper diving onto Headbutt Hayne, and then ….

ARE THEY MAKING OUT? (yes, we did actually yell that at the tv).

Apparently the internet was equally confused/amused, because a complete genius came up with this:

Oh internet, how we love you.

We also especially enjoyed when Cam Smith gave the world a lesson in sportsmanship. First he yelled at the ref “WE CAN’T WIN THE PREMIERSHIP, WHO CARES WHAT WE DO?” He then threw an Errol-worthy tantrum and quit that whole shit.

Can’t win? Don’t try.

We can’t wait till that image is used in motivational posters in offices all over Melbourne.

And, of course, the tension resulted in two of the prettiest boys in history to ever share the sin-bin: Dan Dan Mortimer and Billy Slater. Surely people that pretty don’t belong in the bin? Evidently Billy agrees, because bitch was pissed.

The dramas didn’t stop at Parra vs Storm, though. There have feelingz happening all over the NRL. At Brookie, injury is taking it’s toll on Dave Williams. The man that … well, people who aren’t us like to call ‘the Wolfman’, is not dealing well with being a sideline fixture.

We interviewed Daveypants 2 weeks ago for the NRL and he seems so, so sad. His poor little arm is still in a sling and he is the saddest panda of all pandas in history. It took all our strength not to hug him.

It’s no suprise he has turned to comfort eating. Specifically, comfort eating chips on the sideline. The saddest part of all was when he offered one to Jamie Lyon and was brutally rebuffed. WAY TO MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE A PIG, JAMIE.

Meanwhile we were down in the Nation’s capital hustling and getting ready to watch the Raiders vs Titans. In a moment of perfect timing by the universe, we needed to interview the baby Raiders AND Titan’s coach John Cartwright. So on Sunday morning we headed off the pick up Carty and take him for a coffee and a chat. The only problem? Literally NOTHING is open in Canberra at 9.30am in Canberra.

What the hell, ACT? It was like a nuclear apocalypse took place and no one told us.

Not even WANGS massage was open, although at least it gave us a few lolz.

In the end, intrepid Carty led us into a food court, to find a tiny tiny window called the House of Vitality. Kiki ordered a diet coke, to which Carty said “a Diet Coke? …. for breakfast? Shouldn’t you at least have a normal coke for nutritional value?”

Kiki’s only answer was SHUT UP I’M HUNGOVER. She ordered the Diet Coke anyway.

What’s more glamorous than doing an interview with an NRL coach in a food court? Pretty much nothing. For reals.

Next stop was Bruce Stadium for Raiders vs Titans. For Sydney girls, going to Bruce Stadium is so … so weird. Actually, Canberra is weird to us. It’s all organised, and tidy, and convenient. All the suburbs have different names, but they’re only like two blocks apart and EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP.

Two voddies and a beer for $12? $5 parking at the footy? $13 for a pizza and two Diet Cokes? Yes, please. It’s developing world prices without all the pesky airline travel and vaccinations.

As we drove into the Bruce Stadium carpark a friendly dude pointed out that Sassy’s bonnet was askew and maybe not closed properly. When she admitted it was just wonky from her bad driving, he came out with I HIT A KANGAROO ONCE. IT’S HEAD POPPED RIGHT OFF. I KILLED IT, BY THE WAY. Oh, Canberra. Nothing cheers us up like an animal decapitation story. Turns out it really did make Sassy feel better about her driving.

That, and a stadium with seats close enough to hear the OOF when two men tackles.

Wait, make that a decapitation, Bruce Stadium, and our new bestie in the next row down.

We asked Josh McCrone about this: “… definitely from Queanbeyan. He’s probably Campo’s neighbour”.

Then as a farewell to the ‘Berra, we met a few of the baby Raiders for interviews after recovery on Monday: Jarrod Croker, Daniel Vidot, Josh McCrone and Shaun Fensom. WE ARE IN LOVE. Four of the most hilarious, humble footy players you’ll meet (if you ignore Dan Vidot’s love for a glamorous self-portrait. He really, really loves them. Especially if they involve shirtlessness, which is fair enough. Have you seen him? He’s a total spunk).

McCrone and Crokes – actually all the boys really – are fucking hilarious. Shaun Fensom managed to burn Kiki within ten seconds of meeting her. We like his hustle. We also especially enjoyed Croker and Vidot taking the piss out of each other about their Adventures in Hair Highlights.

Apologies to the boys for springing it ON TAPE that some of them are gay icons, and to Shaun Fensom in particular for Kiki stroking his pretty hair like a massive creep. The trickiest part was convincing them to have their photos taken to go with the story – Dan Vidot only wanted pre-approved images that he’d had taken earlier included in the mag. He’s so J.Lo. We loves him

And Crokes was traumatised because his hair looked ‘shit’ (it didn’t, it looked messy and cute…bed hair!), he hadn’t shaved, and his shorts were soaking wet. “But I’ve got a beard! Can’t you come back another day and take them?”

NO. WE’RE NOT DRIVING THREE HOURS AGAIN.

But probably the highlight of our trip was telling Trevor Thurling of the huge section of his fan base who refer to him as Trevor “Sex Machine” Thurling.

According to google, this is what a Sex Machine looks like:

Trevor, is that you?

This story led to us hearing Shaun Fensom utter the words “yeah, I lived with a family when I first got here, now I live with Sex Machine”. Awesome.

Try not to die waiting, but the story will be out in the next issue of Rugby League Player mag. and in the meantime, here’s a picture of Josh McCrone being a hilarious human and posing comically in front of a palm tree. So awesome. Doesn’t he look like Prince Harry? He totally looks like Prince Harry. Till next time kittens! xx

Big thanks to our favourite media manager and one of our favourite humans, Ben Pollack, for hooking us up the whole weekend. And thankyou to the boys for being generally awesome. WE LOVE YOU RAIDERS!

Thanks to the brilliant Cronkster for the caps. LEGEND!

Okay, we get the point. You guys want more blogs. But unfortunately for y’all, this pesky thing called life keeps getting in the way. We have also been rendered video impotent due to a gang of bastards that broke into Sassy’s house and stole our camera (yeh, really).

But never fear. Some good stuff is coming up soon. We spent last weekend in Canberra hangin with the adorable Raiders, the awesome friendly locals and taking full advantage of their insanely cheap drinks.

Also, we are thinking about doing some podcasts. Try and control your excitement please!

And, in case you were all wondering, I AM SO GLAD BEAU SCOTT IS PLAYING ORIGIN. I’ve been saying this for literally a year, finally the selectors are listening to me. His selection clearly has nothing to do with his form, and everything to do with me. Much like everything else in rugby league. Learn this.

Will be blogging soon, promise.

Here you have it, a very special edition of Errol TV. It was Sassy’s birthday, it was our first romantic sunset filming, we met a man CALLED ERROL … and we got you interviews with the hilarious Joel Thompson and Tom Learoyd-Lahrs from the Canberra Raiders. Our favourite part? When we get Tom Learoyd-Lahrs to make fun of his Raiders media manager (also the Country media manager) Ben Pollack. Also, when Tom Learoyd-Lahrs … exists.

Hope y’all like it!

YOU READ IT RIGHT BITCHES. THE HOT MAN NEWS IS BACK. Why now, you ask? Well it’s occured to me that this blog has become somewhat G-rated of late and I don’t like it.  To quote Gough Whitlam - “It’s Time”. It’s time for for the innate perve in us all to make it’s grand return.

But before we get to that, let’s briefly take a moment to appreciate the genius above. It’s literal, juvenile and crappily constructed. It’s Oh Errol.

(Note – I googled ‘man on fire’ and got a varied selection of things. Including a disturbing amount of photos of self immolation including one entitled “Romanian Gypsy on fire”.  Well that’s not very cheery now, is it?)

Anyway! On with the hot! So obviously the Dragons are my beloved and I adore them like my own children (especially B.Moz, I actually think I Love Him Like A Son). But I do kinda-sorta-adore another team. And that team is…….THE RAIDERS. Do you feel special Green Machine?

Oh I’ll give you the hottest ride in town.

I just like watching them play. I have a soft spot for them. And if I was a guy, I would also have a hard spot. GET IT. COZ OF BONERS. Now despite his infamous hair iss-u-eewwes, we are totally T.Camps mad here at Errol HQ. We just think he’s lovely. He is very old school handsome. Very traditionally masculine and all that. We also like how he feels the need to check that his junk is still attached while at training.

Hell YES Tez, work it out bitch. If there’s anything sexier than a man grabbing his dick while slathered in zinc and wearing a bucket hat, I am yet to see it. Am I being sarcastic? I don’t even know any more.

Now let’s talk about Joel Thompson. I will admit I had absolutely no idea who this bloke was until I spied him looking all sweaty and spunky at the first Indigenous All Stars training we went to. Errrr… I mean, I was admiring his athletic ability….and stuff. Anyway, he’s got cute monotremey type hair and a certain swagger about him.  And Sassy agrees he’s the sex in a kind of “I may or may not steal your car after our dates over” kind of way.

After some more intensive research on my part (I am a committed journalist if nothing else), I have discovered why we felt an immediate kinship with him. It’s because, how do I put this gently….he is kind of retarded. And we say this with much love, because anyone who has a) read Errol or b) been around us for more than 30 seconds soon realises we are challenged in many many ways. If we were footy players, we would totally end up doing the following -

Suddenly realising our nip nips are a bit sore after a busy day of training.

Further discovering that we may in fact have a serious nipple injury on our hands. And end up being snapped looking super bloated in the process.

Being obviously mortified after having a trainer tape up said nipple injury in front of our teammates.

Now despite both looking ethnically mysterious, Sassy and I are actually both from Irish peasant backgrounds so needless to say we have had more than a few suncare issues over the years.

Once such incident occured whilst on holiday in Fiji. We were so hungover on the second last day we spent 9 hours in the water to keep cool so we didn’t vom all over the pretty white sand. Unfortunately the fact that water is transparent and sunlight can get to you while you’re floating about didn’t occur to us. Until we woke up the next morning and literally couldn’t walk straight because we were so sunburnt. Subsequently we had to fly home braless and wearing nothing but sarongs as regular clothes hurt too much. Apologies to Air Pacific and Australian Customs.

This is why, once again, we totally feel you Joel.

” Slippity, sloppity…SLAP! Nothing will penetrate this zinc forcefield of mine!”

“……………..shit.”

Oh, Joel. Drop by the office one day, will ya? You will be with your own kind.

Now onto Josh Dugan. In a completely unexpected turn of events:  Dimples Dugan is hot now. Not cute or adorable or nawww ain’t he sweet like he used to be. Nope. He’s removed the headgear and has morphed into one of Errol’s fave things. A HOT BOGAN. The plethora of tattoos, nasal vowels when speaking, the earrings, the semi- douchey- haircut-that-somehow-works-for him = hot bogan.

Now this is not an insult by any means. Because you know who else is a Hot Bogan? HOT BITCH COOPER. That’s right HB, you have an heir to the throne. Behold readers, I present to you, Junior Hot Bitch.

La la laaaa….

One of these things is not like the others,

One of these things just doesn’t belong,

Can you tell which thing is not like the others

By the time I finish my song? …………la la laaaaaaaa!

And with that, I’m out. Stay tuned cupcakes because there’s plenty more Raiders hot to come. I haven’t even got to Tom ‘is that a brother or what’ Learoyd-Lahrs.

Pics from The Canberra Times and FMF Forums. Thanks boys, we love ya!

So we’re officially back in footy season, hurrah! And obviously we don’t just bring you our incredibly informative game recaps, we also like to hook you up with what the teams get up to at training and recovery. 

If nothing else, it should help you with your tips.

You certainly shouldn’t listen to me and my ‘intuition’, because after round 4 I am now sitting on an average of just over four correct tips a week.  Four!  Out of Eight!  

Do you know what that means? It means that my brain … my human brain, that biological miracle, that unbelievably complex labyrinth of nerve and synapse; when it comes to tipping, using my brain is pretty much as effective as using a coin.  My brain is no smarter than a small round disc made of brass. True story.

Anyway. Last week it was all about the water recovery session. And I’ve realised you can pretty much track the boys progress by their water sessions. Check out the Raiders last week rocking out in the Canberra aquatic center:

Is T Camps … singing? Why I do believe he is. Just bustin out a few showtunes as he jogs around the lap pool. Washing away the memory of getting beaten by the Eels and that bitch of a ref who disallowed their AWESOME split-scrum try.

And just look at the boys rocking out in the background.  For some reason we especially love the thought of Trevor Thurling joining in.  Or as some of our fans like to call him, Sexmachine Trevor Thurling.

There really IS nothin like a dame!

End result: a reinvigorated attack and glorious victory over the Cowboys down in Canberra.

Compare and contrast Boromir from Lord of the Rings Nathan Hindmarsh over at the Eels’ recovery:

No one ever wants to re-enact Grease with me.

… and if they do I never get to be Kenicki.

and the happy-clappy Roosters having superfuntimes rolling around on the grass at Moore Park:

How happy is Shaun Kenny-Dowall?  He just REALLY LOVES ROLLING.  I tried so so hard to stay pissed off at the Roosters after their loss to the Tigers, then I saw this and … I can’t stay mad at you babies.  Especially you Shaun Kenny-Dowall.  I adore him.  I have no idea why, I JUST DO.  

We even have a special Errol nickname for him that I’m only allowed to yell from the sideline and not allowed to say on Errol.  The girls have forbidden me, because … well because it sounds kind of offensive.  But I swear I SAY IT WITH LOVE.

And the point is this: when the miserable pool-going Parra came up against the We!Love!Rolling! Roosters at the SFS, the Roosters took those bitches down.  A happy team is a winning team. It’s just Fact. You can’t argue with science!

So I’m going to save you, oh, about 2 seconds indecision, and tell you not to waste your money on the Sharks this weekend. Bitches are miserable. Just look at them:

Toops looks like he really regrets not being able to stick with the Roosters and roll his cares away. He is so going home to eat an entire cheesecake and pass out in a food coma in his boxers. Ben Pomeroy also probably has several bruises.

The Pom has difficulty walking with flippers. Even though the flippers aren’t on his feet.

And I’m gonna put my money on the Dragons too. For one thing because Jamie ‘Tiny Dancer’ Soward and Baby Chase Stanley look like happy little kids out there on their surfboards. But also because Lozzy might cut me if I don’t.

You see Jamie Soward has worked his mojo on Lozzy. He won her over with his cheeky grin and the little dance he does before he kicks for goal.  You know the one: the chicken dance in a circle, followed by the march, the pause, and the little prance as he kicks.  The one Phil Gould describes as ‘like my cat about to do a shit’. Why do you think we call him Tiny Dancer?

Well it seems Tiny Dancer is rapidly catching up to T Camps as her favourite footy player, and I always have to support the girls’ teams. I’m a good friend like that.

So the boys are playing this match down in our Nation’s capital, Canberra, which means that for the last week foxtel has been bombarding me with ads where Alan Tongue stands in front of the camera in his turtle headgear and announces that the Roosters are in for “… SOME CAPITAL PUNISHMENT”.

As a footy follower, do you know what I love? PUNS ABOUT THE DEATH PENALTY. I love them almost as much as when players are forced to do embarassing promos. Heart.

Note: this is a completely arbitrary pic of Alan Tongue. I could have used a recent one, but I prefer this. I like how it looks like he and Monaghan are waiting anxiously to go into Court on trial for public rangadom. BUT WE CAN’T HELP IT YOUR HONOR!

The Raiders are milling about in the change-room looking cheery and relaxed, except for David Shillington, who mainly just looks skinny. SO SKINNY!  I feel a little bit worried. Do they not have pies in Canberra?

Mmmmmmm pie.

Note to self: send Shillo a care package of four-and-twenties.

The Roosters are standing like unwilling refugees in the away change-room, and J Aubs looks a little like he might vom. On the bright side they have some new super-cute jerseys with little white collars and mini v-necks. I approve. Minichiello has his collar popped, possibly because Terry Biviano jjuzhjed him before they left the house, possibly because he actually really enjoys being referred to as the Count and is just running with the look.

Ees possible!

The boys run on field and something amazing happens: The Roosters don’t suck.  

The forwards are running forward with something that looks like confidence and determination, and somehow even though the Raiders have totally been bogarting the possession of the ball … there are no points on the board.  I believe this is what was missing last week, and I believe it’s called … ‘defence’. Hallelujah!

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

That’s when I remember I actually tipped the Raiders and I feel confused and guilty and kind of like the roosters must know that I was disloyal.  I’M SORRY.

Note to self: find way to make it up to the Roosters. Consider fruit flowers?

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

 
Minichiello grabs the ball and prances through defenders only to be brought down just before the try line. It’s an awkward pile-up of a tackle and Mini comes out of it looking like he’s riding on Space Mountain and holding his leg in a really worrying way.

Even though he’s limping like a half eaten gazelle he shoos away the trainer and stays on the field. Oh, Mini, you so brave. I love you even though you have a body made of glass now and haven’t played a full season for at least two years.  I’m not even being sarcastic, I really do. I just wish you weren’t made of delicate delicate parts like Rod Wishart.

Peg-leg Minichiello moves out on the wing and in the next Roosters set he staggers across the line with his popped collar like a hunchback to score a try.  AMAZING! TRY BY THE ONE-LEGGED MAN!

Mitchell Pearce can’t manage a conversion but he can manage a really random kick out on the full a few minutes later. Luckily, he is now signed to the Roosters until 2012, which means plenty of time to work on that tricky kicking business.

Mitchell needs some more study times on the big book of no-nos.
Pic. Getty Images.

The Raiders kick and Mitchell Aubusson looks over his shoulder then decides the best way to stop Joel Monaghan grabbing it is to leap sideways and use his butt to deflect Monas.  It’s kind of … graceful.  Balletic, even! I like to think M Aubs is a massive fan of So You Think You Can Dance and has been practicing this at home with J Aubs.

Both teams start passing to mid-air and dropping the ball and this feels a lot more like last week. Frank-Paul Nuuasala is on field and gets all ghetto when he’s pushed around in a tackle. Whut, whut? He is thisclose to ripping someone’s weave out.

The Roosters also show what they thought of Shillo’s comments during the week and David Milne is shocked.

OH NO HE DI-INT!

Justin Carney takes out the Mayan King Soliola while he’s in mid-air and Braith Anasta isn’t having any of it. Oooh, biff! Well, at least as close as you can get to biff in 2009, which is grabbing people’s jerseys and pushing then a little bit. Maybe sometimes kicking them in the thigh like Colin Firth and Hugh Grant in Bridget Jones’ Diary. Braith then taps the ref really condescendingly on the shoulder and a little bit of my love dies.

Justin Carney also somehow has Jamie Soward’s hair on as a kind of hair-hat. Halftime, 4-0.

The Raiders botch two great try opportunities and try and reach some kind of record for turnovers. Shaun Kenny-Dowall pops in for a revenge try on the left wing, and Josh Miller and Mark O’Meley collide with a massive smack like two giant towel men made of wet towels. The towel men have a little trip to Disneyland and we replay the collision three times on Foxtel IQ because we are gross and creepy.

At this point I think I can sum up the rest of the game by saying: Braith Anasta loses his damn mind.

It all starts when he dives to tackle David Milne right on the try-line and manages to be dragged sideways so that he runs crotch-first and horizontally into the comically cow-print goalposts. Ten minutes later when he finally manages to struggle to his feet he bends over to check on his boys … maybe gently remind them that this kinda stuff happens in footy.

But Braith Anasta’s crotch is having none of this. Braith Anasta’s crotch is MAD AS HELL AND NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE.

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

Don’t worry, he doesn’t actually rip T Camp’s head off.

Instead, Braith Anasta’s crotch sends in Mitchell Pearce for a try. Then Braith Anasta’s crotch leaps over Justin Carney in the in-goal and miraculously grounds a ball right on the dead ball line for another try.

Just to rub it in Canberra’s face, Braith Anasta’s crotch finishes his decimation of the Raiders by intercepting a pass and running 40 metres to score a single-crotch try. Fitzy converts for 28-0.

At this point, Bronson Harrison manages a sneaky last-minute Green Machine try, but Braith Anasta’s crotch doesn’t give a shit. Braith Anasta’s crotch then gives the whole of Canberra the forks … game over, bitches. 28-4.

It’s that time of year! First of all I just have to mention that last night, at the Hordern Pavilion, travel-size Matt Orford took home the Dally M Award for player of the year.

Chris ‘Sonic’ Sandow was Rookie of the Year, and much-loved ginger statesman Alan Tongue was Captain of the Year.

We have to mention it because … um, wait one sec- … oh yes, because it’s prestigious. Very prestigious.  I always forget that there are other Awards shows than the Errols.

The Dally M Awards ceremony is the glamour event of the Rugby League calendar, the night of nights, the Oscars of the NRL.

And of course I don’t mean to be disrespectful at all if, while I’m watching it, I giggle a little bit at how uncomfortable NRL players look in their suits and squeal things like ‘it’s like watching a dog walk on it’s hind-legs! … or a bear ride a BICYCLE!’ every time a player pulled at his tie or squirmed on-stage.

I just really love that they make the boys get dressed up and feel awkward to get their awards.  It’s so cruel.  Like forcing kids to sit through school speech night in their blazers in the middle of December.

Anyway.  Congratulations Matty and Alan and Chris and all the other winners. Love and kisses from the Errol girls for your very fine footballing. I hope that during your reign on the Dally M Throne you do all you can to promote world peace and help alll the children of the world.

In other news, I have been pretty zen so far about this whole Death of Rugby League drama.  There’s a lot of distress about players leaving the NRL, but I kinda figured if players want to go live in Kamp Khoder and play French Rugby or move to Super League then they’re going to do it whether we all have conniptions or not.  Right?

Not any more kittens. That was way back when we were just talking about Mark Gasnier, Luke Rooney, Sonny Bill Feelings, and maaaaaybe Greg Inglis.  Now, it seems, we’re talking about BIG DELL.

Apparently Dell might move to Super League next year.  DELL. SUPER LEAGUE.  This is the last straw bitches!  As if I’m not upset enough already that Willie Mason is injured and won’t play again until halfway through next season.  Because I can handle giving up my totally awesome Sonny Bill Feelings jokes, and I can live without Gasnier’s flashes of brilliance … but Big Dell is hilarious.  Forget about football, bitch makes me laugh.

And unless it’s to the hospital to rub Big Willie Mason’s back while he recovers from knee surgery, then I don’t want Wendell Sailor going anywhere.  DO YOU HEAR THAT DELL?

There’s also the little matter of one Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper: for years the devoted left centre to Mark Gasnier’s right, the 4 to his 3, the Robin to his Batman, the Albert to his Queen Victoria.

When Monsieur Gaz announced his departure at the end of the season to play Rugby in France we were deeply worried about how our Hot Bitch would fare without his loving manpanion beside him on the field.

We were so worried, in fact, that when it finally started to look like Hot Bitch was moving on into a bromance with the Dell, we were so relieved we didn’t even notice that Lachie had accidentally come to work in his jammies again.

Still, it goes without saying that we are Not Impressed with the prospect of Dell leaving. Hasn’t Hot Bitch been through enough? A heart can only take so much breakin, you know.

WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE HOT BITCH?

I personally think the Roosters Toyota Cup team were all cut up about this issue too, because I don’t quite know how else to explain them going crazy on Friday night. There was KICKING and everything.

The chicks just … lost their shit against the Dragons, and managed a whole new special kind of brawling hat trick when three of them were sent off.  And, um, I guess well done kids?  It is quite impressive to win a game playing 10 men on 13, but in general – honeys no.  Stop that please.  At least until I’ve had a drink.

The chicks and their 10-man win might make the Raiders feel a little better though.  Apparently the Canberra Raiders have also been to the Springfield Mystery Spot, because like the Bulldogs … they just have no players left. Literally, not enough able-bodied men to make a full first-grade side.

The Queanbeyan library is TOTALLY UNDERSTAFFED.  EMERGENCY! WHO WILL OPERATE THE MICROFICHE?

Little Cy Lasscock (heh, Lasscock) from the Under-20s might even have to try and pull a John Kite and back up from playing the the Toyota Cup semi-finals for the Raiders semi-final against the Sharks.

Either way, my advice to the Canberra kiddies is to take a leaf out of the Bulldog’s book and ease the pain of being in a totally shit situation by having a ridiculous French-themed party.

Oh, those crazy Bulldogs!  Ringing in Mad Monday by dressing as Frenchmen.  Nothing makes you feel better about a complete annus horribilis like a dress-up party does, especially if your costume includes a bitchy dig at Sonny Bill Feelings. (Except for in the case of Reni Maitua, who apparently is Too Cool to dress up.  Bitch please).

Luke Patten and mystery man:

original pics: News Limited

… you are my new heroes.

And lastly I wanna say HAY to all the boys who stayed scoreless this year and were forced to nudie run on Monday.  Hope it wasn’t too cold, kids.

Well Intern Brownie and I are officially on non-speaks. Again. I hate when we have our little tiffs.

After the undignified thrashing that Intern Greg Bird and his sharks gave my Roosters on friday night (20-0! Kill me now!), compared with the Dragons 34-6 win over the Warriors, Intern Brownie has been unbearable. Dancing around the office celebrating his team’s finals chances, singing ‘Saved by the Dell’ and occasionally making sad little chicken noises.

NOBODY LIKES A GLOATER, BROWNIE.

And because I can’t blame my boys, or Saint Freddy (even though he seems to want to blame himself) I’ve become very upset with Intern Brownie.

It’s blindingly obvious by now that the Roosters have some serious psychological issues going on. I know they can win games, they just can’t manage to want to win games. It’s ripping my heart out to watch. Which is why I can’t blame them, you know? Those kids have enough to deal with. My message to the boys is just forget about the loss and concentrate on reciting the affirmations your therapist gave you:

I AM WORTHY OF LOVE AND ADMIRATION.

I HAVE UNTAPPED AND INFINITE POTENTIAL.

I DESERVE SUCCESS.

Good boys. They’ll start working soon.

It’s a shame too, because Brownie and I had been having such a lovely week. Knocking off work at lunch to lie top-n-tail on the couch and watch the Olympic diving together, eating jelly snakes and giving insightful commentary on the springboard events, re-enacting rhythmic gymnastic routines using the left over crepe paper from Hot Man Christmas. See if I play ‘Italian ribbons routine’ with you this week, mister. Hmph.

I should probably also point out at this point that the Errol office is in disarray this morning anyway, and I’m sure you can guess why. We awoke to the news that Intern Greg Bird won’t be fronting up for work today … because he’s kind of in jail.

Needless to say this is Not Good News to face first thing on a Monday. We Errol girls aren’t very good at mornings in general life, let alone when one of our employees has been charged with assault. I’ve already had two high-kick Mimosas ** and it’s not even ten thirty yet.

And I think for now, that’s all we’ll say about that.

Back to my sad chooks for a moment. The only bright spot in that whole game was that Paul Gallen’s grapple tackle on our Errol favourite, David Shillington, caused a little bit of push-n-shove. Shirt-lifting push-n-shove. Our favourite kind!

pic: Getty Images / smh.com.au

Have you been working out more, Shillo? On the Parramatta low-carb diet? Either way we’re all very impressed. Even John John!

And it seems like the Roosters are also determined to outdo Manly as the most retro team in the league. They’ve introduced some snazzy new workout suits and debuted them at the Roosters fan BBQ. It almost goes without saying that I approve. So seventies! So New York Jew!

(Thanks to Browder for the fab Braith pic)

CHAS TENENBAUM I LOVE YOUR WORK!

Now onto the Warriors (STOP LAUGHING, INTERN BROWNIE. JESUS). I’m going to be honest, for most of this season I was completely indifferent to the Warriors. Didn’t like em, didn’t hate em. Plus they were kind of far away so it was easy to just pretend they didn’t exist. That was all before they started their mass beardathon. It is hilarious and I love it.

The Channel Nine commentary team announced on Sunday they have solved The Mystery of The Beards (that they’re tributes to Ruben Wiki) but … didn’t we all know that already? Way to fall off the pace Channel Nine! We here at Errol have been discussing this vitally important news story at our afternoon cocktail hour for weeks. WEEKS I TELL YOU! We are all over the facial hair news.

And we are especially all over it insofar as it involves Michael Witt and his amazing ginger moustache. We just love a man who grows a surprise ginger mo and doesn’t shave it off in a moment of despair and vanity. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr Witt. FLY THE FLAG WITTY! We love it.

Meanwhile the Tigers have brought back the old Wests jerseys to wear while being beaten by Manly. FINALLY, A V NECK. I’m ever so happy. Because do you know who looks good in a round neck? That’s right, the answer is “not football players”.

Sure they may not have won, but they looked fabulous. Look how flattering that is. Especially on Daine Laurie as he scored two one-man tries, side-stepping defence with his old gold legs, dreadlocks in full flight. The man must be eight feet tall.

And in the process of winning over the Tigers, how much better was Anthony Watmough’s game? I like to think he has been paying attention to his horoscopes and spent a morning at home focussing and preparing mentally for his game:

Spend a little extra time and energy at home today, as there are issues just starting to arise that you can handle with ease at this point.

The other possibility is that Des Hasler giving the boys the silent treatment after their loss last week to the Rabbitohs scared them into a win. Oh, Des! The silent treatment? Can’t you just imagine it?

I hope that while he was refusing to speak to the boys he also made extra noise while he did the washing-up in the kitchen and bashed pots and pans together and when anyone asked what was wrong just shouted “NOTHING. I’M FINE. CAN’T A MAN WASH UP WITHOUT BEING QUESTIONED ALL THE TIME?”

Poor boys though. Apparently the Manly kids just can’t make anyone happy lately. As if it’s not bad enough that they pissed off the wardrobe mistress and art director of the Gods of Football and were forced to play poker in their white hospital boxers for a segment on The Footy Show. That was super awkward.

And, kittens, I hate to leave you on a sad note, but in the Raiders vs South Sydney game yesterday Troy Thompson was taken off field with a ruptured achilles, and Marc-with-a-C Herbert with a medial ligament injury.

NOT THE HERB! We are utterly heartbroken. Herb is one of our Errol favourites and we can’t bear to think of the rest of the season without him. Rest up for 2009 Herbie baby.

* Next time I promise to actually write something about, you know, football. This week you just have to settle for the Important Business of uniform fashions, facial hair, and therapy updates.

** If you were wondering, it’s just like a regular Mimosa, but with an extra shot of Tanqueray, for that little high kick to the brain. WHEE!

It shouldn’t be. I’m actually meant to be at the footy stadium watching my Roosters play the Fattamatta Eels but I woke up this afternoon with a hangover so punishing it’s like an angry bear bashing itself on the inside of my skull. I barely managed to muster up enough energy to get out of bed and have Intern Greg Bird pull all the mysterious dried leaves out of my hair. I might just post Kiki’s helpful SMS message here instead of trying to explain because I think it sums the whole situation up quite well:  

u have leaves in ur hair because u lied down in the street.
then a cop came to see if u were okay and u accidentally kicked her in the face. it was amazing.

I love my boys, but I just couldn’t do it.  Leave me behind guys, I’m done for.  GO AHEAD!  SAVE YOURSELVES!  Needless to say I am completely rubbish and not promising any kind of accuracy. I don’t even really know who I want to win. I do love little Wade Graham and his luxurious eyelashes, Matthew Bell and his great head of hair and baby Lachlan Coote. Plus there’s the fact that the other night in the pub Kiki and our mate Alex named my boobs after Tony and Frank Puletua, so we kind of have a vibe, the Puletuas and I.

But I’m also oddly fond of the Raiders. I love reading out their hilarious retro librarian names (shoutout to Neville Costigan – your name’s my favourite darlin), I love how untanned they all are – no beaches in Canberra, kids – and I love the Herb. I’M SO TORN.

I take two Nurofen plus and before I’ve even swallowed them Rhys Wesser darts through the defence and sets up Michael Gordon for a try. Gordon converts and winks adorably as he walks off. I don’t know who you are Mr. Gordon but I like you already you cheeky bitch.

Before I can even make a joke about nifty little Danny Glover and his skillz Herbie has sent in a kick and Terry Campese leaps over Danny like a dolphin and grounds it for a try. He converts for 6-6. My poor little brain can’t handle the excitement as Dane Tilse leaps on a ball in goal for another Raiders try.

Aaaah I love it when front rowers score tries. They get so left out of the glory, and I honestly don’t know if I’ve even seen another front-rower score from a kick and chase this year. But Dane Tilse was all over that Terry Campese kick with all of his considerable bulk just centimetres before the dead ball line. He looks so shocked and excited it makes my heart smile. GO DANE! You win at life.

In the meantime Luke Priddis has broken something in his head and is staggering around on the field doing a fairly good Mick Crocker impression. He also has a swipe of white from the field markings on the front of his hair and he looks like nothing so much as a drunk Maxwell Sheffield in a footy uniform.

Imagine how happy I am when they have to whip him off the field and sub in Masada Iosefa. I adore him. I’m so upset that he obviously rang the commentary team a few weeks ago and explained that his name is pronounced Yosefa instead of Ocifer.

Oh how I used to love reenacting my own drunken police officer moments every time they mentioned his name.

Scuse me Ocifer … I like your new uniforms with the tuck-in pantsh. They’re very … mill … mulla … military. *slaps cop on the arse*

Danny Glover skips around David Milne for another brilliant try and I’ve realised he’s very Amos Roberts when he scores tries. An arm in the air after an amazing 50 metre try and they don’t even crack a smile. I like to think they just let their feets do the talking. Their fancy fancy feet.

12-12.

Now this is where it gets kind of sad. Amazing and impressive and all, but at the same time oh so very sad. That giant redwood Joel Monaghan charges through Penrith’s line and across the line on the right hand side for a try. Terry Campese sets up Trevor Thurling for another. Colin Best offloads to the nugget of a man that is Justin Carney for another on the left. Justin Carney has surprisingly shiny and gleaming hair. He’s like an echidna.

I would also like to remind everyone that today is officially Sorry Ranga Day. And in the spirit of the day I wanna give a giant hug to Joel Monaghan and Alan Tongue for all the struggles I know they must have endured so far in life (our country is Not Kind to Rangas) and remind you all that we here at Errol will be honouring the greatest rangas in our fine game in the Oh Errol awards.

I would also like to apologise to the LadyCop for accidentally hitting her in the face with my boot. I’m sorry LadyCop. Thank you for not arresting me.

[UM. WHERE IS MY THANKYOU??? If not for my quick thinking and physical strength you would be fighting assault charges right now missy! As soon as you kicked her I peeled you off the ground and dragged you into the darkness. On the run from the po-po through the backstreets of Newtown. Good times. - Kiki]

Canberra fans huddle for warmth and Scott Sattler on the sideline complains about getting frostbite in his fingers. I’ll keep you warm, Scotty. *seedy wink* I also swear to god the Penrith interchange bench are all wearing emergency SES blankets. They look like depressed schoolboys rescued from a Duke of Edinburgh trek gone bad in the Blue Mountains.

Campese commando rolls for another try and converts it too, but I’m distracted by Alan Tongue running around in the background. I love him in his headgear. Obviously pretty much everyone looks ridiculous with a headgear on (except Jonathon Thurston, who, inexpicably looks BETTER in headgear) but combined with the Raiders green Alan looks like nothing so much as a grumpy turtle general marshalling his turtle troops about the field. Good work Turtle!

Army Tank Trevor Thurling finishes off the half with one more try just to make sure that the Panthers are sufficiently depressed.

38-12.

I can pretty much sum up the second half by saying three things:

Rhys Wesser inexplicably misses a kick from Canberra that is aimed right at him, then the ball by some miracle stops on it’s end vertical exactly before the dead ball line so the Raiders get another set. Penrith just Do Not Win At Life today and Danny Glover’s emotionless face is starting to look like a mask of despair.

Wade Graham limps off field with a torn medial ligament and I want to cry. I’m already heartbroken that the completely adorable Lachlan Coote is out injured. It’s not the same watching footy without feeling like there’s a chance that little Lachlan Cute will win man of the match and thank all his fans again.

To be honest then I fall asleep for a while (don’t judge me) and when I wake up Canberra have scored a thousand more tries and Trent Waterhouse looks like he will be the next person to start weeping uncontrollably.

I also realise finally that the reason Michael Gordon is kicking goals is because Luke Lewis broke his head last week. I KNEW I HADN’T SEEN YOU BEFORE MICHAEL. How did it take me sixty minutes to realise this? Maybe alcohol really does damage brain cells.

More tries, including one to the Turtle, who kisses the Raider emblem on his jersey. That is really sweet, but really creepy also. I am also completely in love with the fact that Tom Learoyd-Lahrs scored one. Soz Neville Costigan. You no longer have the greatest name in the Green Machine. You also just can’t compete with Learoyd-Lahrs and his fierce retro headwear.

The referee reprimands Luke Priddis for running early – “I HAVEN’T BLOWN THE WHISTLE YET, LUKE” – and he will so be the next to have a tear on the sideline. I can see the tears starting to prick in the corners of his eyes already.

The green machine hits 72-12 and send in Marc Herbert to convert – “the boys just wanted to give Herbie a kick,” according to Terry. I love how they talk about him like he’s their kid. WE FEEL THE SAME WAY, HERBIE! He seems like a lovely boy. I would totally adopt him. We could have breakfast out on the terrace while I brush his hair and part it to the side and get him ready for a big day of training.

The final damage is 74-12, 10 goals and four tries of that thanks to Tezza Campese, and in a final moment of heart-wrenching hilarity, Trevor Thurling tells the interviewers that he wants to shout out to all the boys in Queanbeyan.

HE REALLY IS FROM QUEANBEYAN. I knew it! I bet anything he has at some point in his life worked part-time in the library. I just know it. Bless you Trevor. You deserve the win honey.