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footy observations: chicken and a side of french fries

September 10th, 2008

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.

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20 

weekend footy observations: the shallow kind*

August 25th, 2008

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!

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18 

the sunday afternoon recap: panthers vs raiders

August 10th, 2008
This recap is coming to you from the Canberra home ground, where it looks colder than words can possibly say, and my couch, where I’m snuggled in a blanket lying really really still and resting my feet gingerly on the heater because even they hurt.

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.

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16 

footy observations – fugitivity + fuckability

July 31st, 2008

Oh children. The drama! THE DRAMA! My ticker can’t take it. The poor little thing is on struggle street. Aunty Kiki needs a very very strong drink. A Valium martini even (extra olives pls).

Rugby League has always been delightfully dramatic. Melodramatic even. It’s part of it’s charm. Shit is never boring. But recently we have reached entirely new levels of dramz. I never thought the words ‘international manhunt’ would be used in a league article. But here we are, with our very own Sonny Bill shaped fugitive. On the run from the lawwwws. It wasn’t him, IT WAS THE ONE ARMED MAAAAN!

You heard it here first kids. I for one can’t believe that SBW has managed to stay unfound for this long. I was sure he would get sprung crying IT’S BECAUSE IM POLYNESIAN ISN’T IT at a shopkeeper who told him he can’t use Australian money in the UK.

In these uncertain times, one must take comfort in the familar. Let us ignore Sonny Bill’s histronics and retreat to our favourite activity – sexually objectifying football players. Together, we will weather this storm using their bulging biceps and glistening thighs. Shelter in the hot babies, shelter in the hot.

In last weeks Hot Man News, I introduced you a few young guns of the cute persuasion. Lets check back with them shall we? Everyone loves an update!

I am happy to report that Marc-with-a-C Herbert had a cracker of a debut game and we couldn’t be prouder. We like to think he read the Hot Man News and was emboldened by it. And by all accounts he seems like a lovely young boy.

MARC Herbert has no tattoos. No streaks. The kid even moved back with his parents on Monday.

“So, yeah, nothing too exciting,” he smiles. “Although I do grow my hair into a bit of a mop occasionally . . . but then I cut it.”

AAAAW! Bet he has never pissed on someone hmmmm Todd Carney! Sassy and I watched him lead the Raiders to a 46 – 4 victory against the Titans on Saturday evening. And by ‘watched’ I mean sit at the Henson Park Hotel, sink schooeys and yell sexually inappropriate remarks at the TV screen. Much to the amusement of the old boilers around us. Anyway, well done kitten, you look adorable on TV.

I am however not pleased with the recent developments on John Williams’ face. On Friday night I tuned in to watch The Worst Game of The Year (Parra v Cowboys) thinking sweeeeet at least I can perve on JohnJohn Williams. But nooooooooo he had to go and grow some sort hair based monstrosity on his face didn’t he? NO JOHN JOHN NO! You see, baby, the beard is your brothers thing. Your thing is to be hot, clean cut and barely clothed. The thing you were sporting on Friday night doesn’t even look like a real beard. It looks like the eyeshadow beard I created for Daniel Freeman in our high school production of Into The Woods.

[I actually would like to point out to JohnJohn that his beard is heading dangerously into Kevin-the-straight-guy from Project Runway territory:

Shave immediately pls. – Sassy]

Now lets talk about Kayne Lawton. Oh, KayLaw. You are by far my greatest achievement. We discovered you mister, and don’t you forget about it. The amount of google searches we have had about you this week is unbelievable. It’s almost a…movement. AND ALL THANKS TO US. In my mind you didn’t exist until we blogged about you. You can thank us by wearing 70s shorty shorts and cleaning my pool.

(Note – Sassy is making noise about discovering Kayne and I guessss technically she did. So KayLaw please direct your sexual favours to the one with the fro.)

Kayne is so visually pleasant that he has my brothers girlfriend (hi Jade!) actively watching under 20s Titans games and messaging me about it. This is a girl who up until a few months ago would roll her eyes everytime footy was discussed. Kayne has The Power my friends. David Gallop, if you’re reading this (what am I saying ‘if’ for, I know you are)….please, for the love of all that is good and holy – use KayLaw’s molten hotness in next years ad campaign. Provided you have any money left over from suing Sonny Bill’s tanty throwing ass.


(To the straight mans reading this – I know I know, perviness overload. Im soz. I promise I’ll do a post about you know…actual football this weekend. I swear!)

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28 

the hot man news

July 23rd, 2008

We here at Oh Errol are nothing if not dedicated journalists. Committed to bringing you the most important news from around Australia and beyond.

And is there any news more important than hot mans in the NRL? I say no. Thanks to Bobby our reporter in the field, it has come to our attention that this weekend we will be treated to some fresh Canberran meat. Yes I am aware of how creepy that sounds, but I enjoy my sentence regardless. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Raiders young buck (Bobby’s words) Marc-with-a-C Herbert!

Image and video hosting by TinyPic

Look at that hair! Its strawberry blond deliciousness. He is thisclose to having a 1970s mop. Keep growing it baby! We are enthusiastic supporters of hair here at Errol. Hair love! The more hair, the better. On your head anyway. Although NRL players, may I just remind you that men are SUPPOSED to have body hair and religiously removing yours so you look like hairless cat is positively unattractive. No woman wants to hump a hairless man. No woman whose existence we approve of anyway.

Anyway, yes…MARC HERBERT! I hope for the sake of our eyes (and pants) that Captain Urination spends a lengthy stint on the sideline. We need more luxurious manes in rugby league. Although to be honest, no one can ever begin to come close to Dessy Hasler. BEST.HAIR.EVER. I’m convinced he’s got Kennedy blood running through those veins.

Readers, I’m also happy to report the future of NRL Hotness is looking bright. Incandescent even. I didn’t think Prince Scott the Caramel could get any more awesome, but he has. You see, he has been keeping his eye out for hotness north of the border. We didn’t even ask him to. He’s so pro-active! Keep this up and he may even join Brownie as an Errol intern. Lucky! So future intern, what have you got for us this evening?

“He is a freak,” said premiership-winning captain Prince. “I just shake my head.

“I have been doing weights for seven or eight years now and I haven’t got half the body that kid has.”

“I haven’t seen him play yet, but seeing him train in the gym with us, he has definitely got an athlete’s body,” said Prince.

Translation = THIS KID IS HOT.

Straight man code is so easy to decipher. You guys totally need to up the cagey factor if you wanna get one by us. It’s almost sad.

Anyway, Scotty… in your eagerness to describe the kids muscles of granite you forgot to to tell us his name. If you weren’t so busy eye raping him you woulda said “his name is Kayne Lawton.” You disgust me Prince. Objectifying a teenager like that. Have you no shame?

Seriously though, holy mother of GOD. Eighteen?? How is this possible? Wow just….wow. Hot Bitch Cooper, baby, you have an heir to the throne.

And finally, in the requisite human interest story that always concludes the news, let us talk about John Williams. Props to the mama and papa Williams who not only gave us The Hot Pioneer, but also produced the physical perfection that is his brother John. I would like to take this opportunity to say that my best mate knows the Williams from around the traps and thought I did too. We recently had a conversation that went something like –

K- You know who I love? The crazy bearded winger at Manly. David Williams.
S – Yeh we know him! And his brother! You know him Kiki…Hotdog! He plays for the Cowboys.

Um, no. No I don’t. Sure my memory is god awful (thanks vodka), but I’m preeeetttty sure I would remember a) a man called Hotdog and b) my eyes seeing THIS –

And that concludes the news for tonight. Go fuck yourselves, San Diego.

Hot Naked John thanks to the lovely Artie at FM Forums.

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sunday afternoon recap: roosters vs raiders

July 20th, 2008

I’ve been awake for about an hour and my boys are playing the Raiders at their home ground down in Canberra, so I settle into the couch with my heater to watch the game and/or mock Canberrans. It’s pretty much my hobby. Intern Brownie has worn himself out playing with his toys all morning so is napping against my knees, sighing every so often in his sleep, and twitching a little bit. I think he’s dreaming about chasing rabbits.

A while ago I referred to the Raiders as the librarians of the NRL, and so far this game has done nothing to convince me they’re not. Listening to the commentators read out the Canberra team line up feels like listening to the branch HR manager read out next week’s roster for the Queanbeyan local library.

… Colin Best? I want you down in the Religious Non-Fiction stacks this week cataloguing the new texts. Marshall and Glen, you’re on lending and returns all week. Terry, you’ll be conducting all school tours as well as reading hour with help from Trevor and Adrian. Neville Costigan is just on call, and Alan Tongue will be manager while I’m on leave.

The weather down in Canberra looks miserable and I think it’s going to rain. This makes a lovely meteorological metaphor for the feeling of dread I have in my guts about this game. I worry about the Roosters’ defence and I don’t know if they can pull this off, but yet I live in hope.

The teams run onto the field and I am taken aback yet again at just how ugly the Raiders uniforms really are.  That green is truly unflattering.  Except on Joe Picker of course, who has the face of a little Irish boytoy so he pulls of the Irish green. He is welcome to leave Canberra and come live in my pants.

Within a minute a penalty is awarded and Joe Picker has injured his ankle in the very first tackle (NOT THE FACE!) and I feel this will be a dramatical game. The Roosters are playing with some good intensity, thank god, and Big Willie Mason seems to be running against the line with some passion.

Todd Carney of the artistically shaven hair just misses out on a 40-20 and I am so so relieved. My relief lasts … oh, about two minutes though, as the Raiders break from within their own half and Terry Campese (TERRY! I THOUGHT I SENT YOU TO THE READING ROOM?) grabs a pass from Colin Best and dives through a giant hole in the woeful Roosters defence for a try with about three other Raiders in support. Carney converts for a 6-0 lead.

The Roosters’ pet play – the bomb to the right-hand wing – fails miserably and little Sam Perrett can’t manage a try. Seriously is this the only play the Chooks have in attack? Work on that please Freddy Fittler. It starts to rain. The camera flicks to Freddy on the sideline in a raincoat drinking a cuppa tea from a styrofoam cup and awwww I can’t stay mad at you Freddy baby. Gimme a hug?

Carney makes a 40-20 kick for another set. Two sets later Perrett’s chasing narrowly avoids another.  I almost suffer a small stroke when the Raiders whip an intercept from the air from a shockingly slow Riley Brown pass and sprint downfield. NOOOO! HE WAS OFFSIDE! Both that, and nifty little Amos Roberts runs him down. Sorry I almost knocked you off the couch Intern Brownie. Forgive me?

In other news omg Foxsports is being so ridiculously low-rent right now I can’t believe it. A Carney kick to the in goal is batted over the sideline and the commentators can’t even remember what the rule is for what happens next. They babble incoherently for what seems like hours while they look it up on wikipedia or something.

In the meantime Intern Brownie kindly reminds me that there will be a Roosters kick for the restart. He’s so helpful like that. He also makes excellent cookies.

Anasta grabs a 40-20. Carney grabs another 40-20. What is going on down there? I am amazed. Anthony Cherrington is staggering worryingly and I think there’s something wrong with his teeth but the brave little tiger doesn’t want to leave the field. Nooooooo! Not Cherrington! I honestly couldn’t bear it if he was badly injured. He is – I swear to God – an actual rugby league player whose junior club is Paddington. Cross my heart, PADDINGTON JUNIOR. Do you know how rare those are? He’s pretty much a Tasmanian Tiger. If we lose him the species is doomed.

Those crafty Raiders turn their 40-20 into a pass from Alan Tongue to Marshall Chalk for a try under the posts and a conversion. 12-0. My heart is so sad. Anasta is pissed and getting fiesty in defence. I feel you, Braith. And Jesus Christ, just seconds from half-time Canberra bombs to the left wing, Colin Best grubber kicks twice and when he trips, Marshall Chalk grounds the ball for a try.

Conversion. 18-0 Raiders. Halftime.

I have now officially woken Brownie up and when the half is over he makes me a cuppa and holds me while I weep gently for a few minutes.

Second half. Things are not looking up. Adrian Purtell grounds a Colin Best kick on the left hand side. 24-0. Another almost Canberra try. Followed by another almost Canberra try. I think I feel pins and needles in my left arm. That’s bad, isn’t it?

Oh yeah, that position is pretty representative of the situation you’re in at the moment Mitchell Pearce. Excellent interpretive work. You’re looking at a high distinction in drama class this year for sure mister.

Carney kicks a drop-out that I honestly think travels 70 metres. I also realise he is also growing a ratstail. THAT’S ONLY CUTE WHEN MATT COOPER DOES IT. Joel Monaghan grabs a high ball and steamrolls littls Shaun Kenny-Dowall for a try.

The bargain basement Foxsports commentary team observe that when Monaghan goes for a high ball against another player he’s always 50/50 to get it. Um. That’s just an irresponsible calculation of probability. Have you even taken into account field position, environmental factors and the influence of different opposing players? I think not. That offends me as a mathematician.

God has mercy on me when Carney misses the conversion for 28-0. He also lets Braith Anasta through some marshmallowy Canberra defence for a try, and my favourite fossil Craig Fitzgibbon converts for 28-6.

Anasta chips into goal and speedy Amos nips in for a try, followed by another conversion to Rhinoceros Fitzgibbon for 28-12. Shaun Kenny-Dowall then massacres an amazing opportunity with a shocking knock on. Amazing that Shaun can have so many names, so little ball control.

And as the clock ticks down, the final nail in the chooks’ coffin is reserved for Monaghan who scores under the posts to give Carney an easy conversion. 34-12. My mighty heart is broken. At least Wayne Pearce seems to have raised little Mitchell well because he is super-polite and lovely in defeat as he congratulates all the Raiders. Either that or he’s smiling with satisfaction that – for once – he’s one of the hottest-looking players on the field. (The Roosters uniform is much more lovely and flattering, non?)  But you can decide that for yourselves, kids.

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