Now, I would like to write a post for you all about the grand final. Unfortunately, I was so atrociously hungover and rubbish that I don’t remember very much. Also, I can’t be bothered.
There is also a much more pressing issue to deal with: if 2008 was a golden year for the beard in rugby league, then every golden age eventually has to end, right? So I think we need a little post to act as a fond farewell to the beards that made 2008 so entertaining. Let’s light a few tealights, shot some Scotch, and mourn for the facial hair that is no more. (If you need to change into something black, I can totally wait too. I’m already wearing a black netting veil and channelling Blair Waldorf).
Forgive me father for I have been to the Brighton Bar … again.
First to leave us were the boys in black. After their loss to the Sea Eagles our favourite bearded boys, the New Zealand Warriors, decided to sacrifice their hilarious and delightful facial hair to charity. Sigh. Is there anything worse than when people do something for charity? I say no. Because apparently ‘things for charity’ translates as ‘things that make Sassy sadtimes’. Like when mum decided I was too old for dolls and gave my Strawberry Shortcake dollhouse to the childrens’ hospital. AS THOUGH CHILDREN IN A HOSPITAL HAVE TIME TO PLAY WITH DOLLS. GOD. THEY’RE SICK, REMEMBER? What was my point?
IT’S JUST ALL SO SAD. I’m gonna miss you crazy bushrangers. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go and start making my Movember advent calendar. Only four weeks to go till my most favouritest month of the year!
Goddamn if they aren’t going to be a long four weeks too. I am tres pissed off. I awoke from my drunken slumber to find out that Errol Patron Saint David Williams had stolen my lady Venus in the aftermath of Mad Monday and shaved the beard. The only explanation I can possibly come up with for why he defied our explicit wishes and went the razor is that he overheard us discussing our Top Five Favourite Movie Gettin’ Square and our Top Three Favourite Ginger David Wenham and came to the conclusion that it was a brilliant idea to make himself over in the image of John Francis Spiteri. Davey, nooooooo!
Is that … a mullet? I do believe it is. What are you gonna do, mate, put up some shelving?
I’m sorry your Hhonour I didn’t mean to say ‘shit’, it’s just that this fucking guy’s gettin to me.
And as well as leaving you with the evidence that Dave hasn’t practised shaving in at least six months: (make sure you shave AFTER you shower, kids, when the hair is soft)
Who’sh gonna pay for my bush fare?
I’ve also tracked you down some exclusive Errol footage of Dave rocking out on Mad Monday. Goodbye, beardbye, and enjoy babies.