You knew we were gonna say it … didn’t you?  After our lengthy discussion last week about whether Queenslanders have trotters instead of feet (they totally do) we finally have proof. Proof in the form of Queenslander Ben Hannant and his positive test for Swine Flu.

WE KNEW IT. WE LOVE BEING RIGHT.

So in the interests of protecting the non-porcine members of the NRL, all the Queensland Origin boys are being quarantined from their regular teammates. No more eating at the same trough, sleeping in the same barn and rolling in the same mud. Instead it’s all face-masks and Tamiflu for the maroons this week.

The NSWRL consider redesigning the Blues’ State of Origin uniforms.

And I would like to take this opportunity to say: You bastards! Usually it’s my favourite thing of all when embarassing things happen to Queenslanders .. but today I found out the adorable Bert from Country Rugby League has been quarantined. THOSE FILTHY QUEENSLANDERS INFECTED NSW TOO! Is this some kind of Queensland sabotage scheme to help them win a fourth Origin series? We always knew all bad things came out of Queensland.

Meanwhile we are bloggers (ie we have no lives) so if Bert gets lonely he should just call us and we’ll come over with movies and braid his hair and entertain him. We can wear SARS masks in our NRL team colours and everything. We love you, Bert!

Bert works remotely from his Swine Flu bubble.

I’ll admit though, I am starting to feel a little bit sorry for Ben Hannant. First he gets publically outed with the runs, now he’s the NRL’s first Swine Flu casualty. Either there’s someone out there with a Ben Hannant voodoo doll and a really black sense of humour, or he played some really embarassing practical jokes on the other kids in primary school and has some violent humiliation karma stored up in the universe.

Ben Hannant gets increasingly lonely and desperate for friends in quarantine.

If I wasn’t scared of a) getting Swine Flu, and b) getting poked in the eye by one of his trotters, I would totally offer to give him a hug.

This story would also be a whole lot funnier if I wasn’t writing this …. from Queensland. We came up for a little long weekend Errol conference on the Gold Coast, and to see the Titans play the Dragons on Monday night, now we find ourselves in the middle of a fucking rugby league Swine Flu drama. Nothing worse than trying to deal with Swine Flu on a hangover. Right, Robbie Farah?

Lucky for all of us Israel Folau and Sam Thaiday have been holding jumpers over their faces while they walk around being filmed by the press. That’ll save us! Nothing stops disease like a knitted acrylic!

At least the Broncos tried. Apparently no one at the Dragons remembered to tell Darius ‘Astro’ Boyd that he is a Swine Flu pariah and wasn’t meant to be wandering around in the locker room at Skilled Stadium before the Dragons played the Titans.

And yes, that is Astro Boyd loitering in front of a bottle recycling bin, even though he is quite clearly not holding anything even close to a bottle. It’s possible this is because he is poorly informed about recycling, and just doesn’t understand what yellow lids mean. But I am 99% sure it was because he was ronery and just really wanted someone to talk to since the rest of the Dragons keep ignoring him cause he never passes the ball. I guess that’s a good thing, cause it means they probably won’t be infected. Kiki says thanks for being a ball-hog, Darius. V. considerate of you.

Turns out that one good thing about sucking as much as my Roosters do this season is that when you have no players selected for Origin, you get to stay safe from disease. We is healthy, healthy losers. I’m sorry, what did you say? Did you say I am clutching desperately at straws to distract myself from the fact that my team is now at the bottom of the ladder?

Pic. Anthony Johnson / smh.com.au

Well spotted, cause I was. On Sunday night when I was getting my face on for a night on the town in Surfers, Lozzy and Kiki kindly got me out of the shower and into the hall just so they could tell me that the Sharks had won a game … and my team was officially coming last. I literally lay down in the hall in my towel motionless for a good five minutes. Being better than the Sharks was all I had!

To make up for their two wins in a row, though, the Sharks Club mustered up another scandal involving Tony Zappia and his resignation. Well done, Sharkies. David Gallop says the NRL are gonna leave them to their own devices and won’t have an intervention. I say that’s a wasted opportunity.

Have you ever seen Intervention? That show is AMAZING. It’s the most addictive television I’ve ever seen. You know it’s wrong but you just can’t help watching. One time I even cried. If I was in charge I’d totally be holding a Sharks intervention. They could hold it in the Shire and televise it to raise enough money to pay off the Sharks’ ridiculous debt. People love watching other people who have worse problems than they do. It would be a ratings blockbuster. Sigh.

Meanwhile since Brett Finch left the Eels to go to the Storm, it seems like it’s partytime all around. The Eels now have Daniel (Son of Pete) Mortimer and Jeff Robson in the halves and flattened the Knights at home. Turns out Dan Dan Mortimer doesn’t just have the prettiest eyes in league, he also has a fucking nifty kicking game.

And my favourite double-double-named NRL player Fui Fui Moi Moi has taken over from Steve Matai as Ray Warren’s fave hairstyle in the NRL. Rabs never talks about his man Matai’s cornrows anymore … it’s all Fui Fui and his braids. He thinks, and I quote: “It’s a celebration!” And according to the Queensland Channel 9 sports reporter, his ‘hair tips’ match his jersey. HAIR TIPS? Like … a big book of hair tips? God Queenslanders are so weird.

Pic. Darren Pateman

I think it makes him look youthful … no?

And down in Melbourne Finch is working it Johnathan Thurston style:

…. it’s Brett Finch, BITCH.

No wonder he’s so happy. He’s obviously in the honeymoon stages of a Cooper Cronk bromance. Peeing together in the street, and rocking out shirtless in the locker room together. The Melby dressing room is starting to look like Arq (aka shirtless heaven) … so I totally get it. I have had some damn good nights out at Arq in my time.

In my mind they’re dancing to Kelly Rowland and the Cher megamix.

*discos out of the post*

Thanks as always to BS for the fabulous screen caps. Love you!

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.

Helllooooo chickens!

Apologies for the lack of posting lately. I’ve been struck down by some sort of ghastly death cough and have been struggling to breathe/walk/live for the past week. I am starting to think Greg Inglis might have constructed some sort of Kiki voodoo doll and been sticking pins into the tiny tiny doll lungs. Seriously Gregory, it’s a bit much isn’t it? Just because I bag out your bizzarely oily hair, publicly accuse you of being a traitor to your state (YOU’RE FROM NSW AND YOU KNOW IT BITCH) and loathe your team…do I really deserve this sort of vengeful treatment?

Anyway Mister Soul Glo, I get the point okay? Lay off doll Kiki for awhile will ya? For the love of god LET ME BREATHE AGAIN. Thx.

(Note that is my hair photoshopped onto a voodoo doll. I know I know, I am clever and hilarious.)

Anyway,  am one sick lady right now. Unfortunately last weekend was booked chock full weeks in advance and because I am loyal, brave and generally amazing I refused to cancel anything. Ain’t no way I was ditching Lozzy’s birthday, supporting Sassy and her woeful Chookies and most importantly (sorry girls) … my beloved Dragons returning to Kogarah.  R2K BABYYYYYY!

Ohhh my it was amazing. The refurbished stadium looks absolutely stunning and the atmosphere was electric. Yep, electric. Lets break it down shall we?

1) We had seats in the new grandstand which had the greatest view of the hill (and the footy obvs). It was bathed in glorious red and white, with only a small section of those filthy Sharks fans polluting the scene.  The first try we scored the crowd went WILD and I well….well I got goosebumps. Actual goosebumps. I showed the girls and they mocked me [I did NOT! I said 'awww'. I get goosebumps during TV season finales. We all have our things - L]. I was mortified until Sassy reminded me of that time when we both got goosies while listening to Wes Carr’s NRL theme song in the car. Yes, we are really that lame.

2) Kogarah is such an incredible ground that Sassy has decided she is going to cheat on the Roosters and have an affair with the Dragons. Did you hear that Chooks? You drove her to footy adultery! We are currently in the process of signing her up to get a Red V membership and everything. I’m not joking people. (The fact that being a Red V member means you can go to after match functions and stalk the Big Dell is only approx 56% part of the reason she’s joining)

2) The demise of Hot Bitch Cooper. NOOOOO! I promised Lozzy an uninterrupted view of Hot Bitch for her birthday, but his hammy made a liar out of me. You see readers, seeing him on TV is one thing….but in person it’s a whole other thing. TV doesn’t capture the way he prowls around the field like he owns the bitch or bends over during plays (hello ass!). It definitely doesn’t capture his ridiculously intense sex-is-on-fireness. [I think seeing Hot Bitch in person is kind of a rite of passage. Sort of like the Bar Mitzvah or Deb Ball of Rugby League - L]

We were all soooooo sad times. Let’s console ourselves with some my own Hot Bitch photography shall we? I took these during the Titans game. There’s alot of ass because we were sitting behind the goal posts. Also, I am a pervert.

Ahhhhh yes. V.nice.

4) B.MOZZZZZZ! Oooooh we are so proud of you baby! We are absolute Morris twin freaks here at Errol. I cried sad sad tears last year when I realised they would be separated (THANKS GASNIER GRRR). My sadness was compounded this year when Bretty wasn’t named in the starting line up for the first two weeks. What an absolute bloody JOKE. I was outraged, as was everyone in the Errol office.  Even more upsetting was the fact a small percentage of Dragons (ones I don’t like…boooo!) fans took this opportunity to lay into him, call him mean names and imply he’s useless.

Well after the weekends awesome performances may I just say – NOT SO USELESS ANYMORE HUH BITCHES. SUCK IT HATERS.

He had a ripper of a game. He was all line breaks and big runs and awesomeness. And….look at that face! It would make angels weep! I think I used that expression for Shillo last year, but clearly it is even more applicable here. Anyway, Bretty is getting another run against Brisbane this Friday night and needless to say we will be cheering him on in our loungerooms. If we weren’t so lazy we would totally hit Lincraft, get busy with some glitter glue and sequins and whip up some handmade  WE LUV YOU B.MOZ t shirts. [And can I just say, I may not have got to see much of Hot Bitch for my birthday, but I did get some Bretty. THANKS UNIVERSE! - L]

Okay, now onto the other games. Yes apparently there are other teams in the NRL apart from the Dragons…who knew!

Once again I watched pretty much every game. Highlights include -

a)  the Broncos Alex Glenn giggling with delight as he scored a try against the Warriors. It was very Flossy-esque. More of that please Mr Glenn!

b) Us bursting into fits of lolz every time David Taylor came onto the screen. BABY OR BREAKFAST BURRITO?

c) The unspeakable rage of Des Hasler. Wow….just….WOW. Just when you think you’ve seen the peak of Dessie’s anger, he reaches a whole new level. Dessie’s performance in the coach’s box on Monday night was a sight to behold. I have this thing where sometimes I get so mad I don’t know how to express it and simply make lots of tiny jerky movements. Tiny tiny movements full of rage. Dessie did the exact same thing. Oh how I laughed/felt fearful for Manly players.

d) As much as it totally fucked up my tips, I was all over the Panthers gutsy win. That was some awesome football. Well done children! And yes, children is totally the appropriate word here because the games superstars were none other than our work experience boy Lachlan Coote and Errol Cutest Rookie of the Year nominee, Wade Graham.

By the way: looks like the Panthers’ Irish dancing classes were starting to kick in

At this juncture I would like to point out that we are what some would call ‘trailblazers’. Footy trailblazers.

Who wrote about Marc ‘The Herb’ Herbert before he even played a game? WE DID. Who featured Kayne Lawton in the Hot Man News months before he was picked to be a God of Football? WE DID. Who discussed Davey Williams awesomeness/hotness literally months before the rest of the world caught on? WE DID. And who hired Lachie and cooed over Wade (and his beautiful eyelashes) a loooong time before most people even knew their names? OH YEH, IT’S US.

So footy players, if you crave superstardom all you have to do is get us on side. Being an Errol favourite is like winning the lottery. Yep.

See you next week cupcakes!

So you already know (if you’ve ever read this site) that we Errol girls aren’t really big fans of the Being Serious.  It’s annoying and kills our buzz. But since people just won’t stop discussing the Storm and Cameron Smith’s suspension I guess I should probably say something about it other than A DINGO GRAPPLED SAM THAIDAY.

If you hate serious stuff too, just skip to the picture of the fuzzy lamb and keep going from there.

If not, well, let’s call this my Cameron Smith and Grapple Manifesto.  Sadly it’s not the good Yves Saint Laurent kind of Manifesto.  It doesn’t involve Gisele or Kate Moss or fierce outfits.

It goes a little something like this.

1) The suspension and the media attention isn’t an anti-Storm persecution conspiracy. Don’t flatter/torture yourselves that it is.  
 
2) The real issue is simply that people don’t like grapples. They slow the game down and bore us all.  

3) For years the referee bosses did nothing and teams (yes, including you Melbourne) denied they did it.  Something had to give, and it happened to be Cameron Smith who was involved when everything finally came together: a grapple at the perfect angle to be caught on camera, by a high-profile player on a high-profile player, during finals series when everyone was watching, so that the grapple was indisputable. And I think everyone was just glad – finally – for a chance to do something about it.

4) If the media latched onto it, it’s party a reflection of public opinion, but also because they couldn’t ignore it. Smith did it in the most obvious way, he’s from a team that grapples really successfully and was destined for the grand final, and he’s Australian captain. Duh. If that’s not a big story in league I don’t know what is. If it was some nobody grappling some nobody then maybe little Andy Nobody might never have been cited or noticed at all, but that was never gonna happen in this case.

5) And yes it’s unfair when hundreds of other grapples have gone unpunished, but … you just have to get over it. I’m sorry. He did it. If 300 other players have gotten away with grapples in the past, then you can bet that some of them were from the Storm too.  Everybody benefited from the refs’ blind eye, including Melbourne and including Cameron Smith.  

He also did it really obviously on camera so the judiciary could see exactly what happened. There was no way you could argue that wasn’t neck contact or that it wasn’t intentional. So this time he was suspended. Just accept it and move on. He’s the sacrificial lamb and it sucks but it doesn’t change that he grabbed someone’s head unnecessarily. If it was someone else who was in his position I’d say the same thing.  

The end. Let’s all move on. Hopefully to a game with less boring wrestling.

Sadtimes for Lamberon Smith

See?  SEE HOW BORING THAT WAS?  God I feel all weird now.  Let’s talk about the game instead.  Just the important bits because a full recap would be too depressing.

ROLL CALL!

Can’t have a drama without characters, can you?  In the Globo purple, we had all the usual Melbourne boys, except Cameron (aka Lindy, aka Wolfman) Smith and Jeremy (aka ‘the Other’) Smith who were sitting on the sideline due to suspension, and Ryan Hoffman ruled out with a jimmy ankle.  Poor Ry-Ry – I feel your pain.  I have a dodgy ankle too!  And I suspect, like mine, yours is a result of high school netball.  I can just see him in a little GD bib.  Three feet!  Three feet! 

I would like to point out that Cameron has clearly been reading Errol because bitch actually shaved for once.  For serious. AMAZING.  He almost doesn’t have a Homer Simpson beardshadow.  Clearly he has a sense of occasion. 

And in the blue and black for Cronulla we had … wait, I know some of them turned up. Anyone?  I don’t see any Cronulla names on this attendance list.  UNACCEPTABLE.

Oh wait, no, I found two.  Misi J Talaupapa rocked up to the SFS, and so did Luke Douglas.  That is all. 

REPORT CARDS

You know how Luke Douglas actually bothered to show up to the game?  Unlike some other players who shall remain nameless?  *cough*Covell*cough*

Maybe it woulda been better if he didn’t.  Poor bastard.  Luke Douglas had a complete shocker, and god didn’t he know it.  If you look really really closely in the picture below, you can actually pinpoint the moment where he gives up on life and starts contemplating whether running into the goalpost really really fast might knock him unconscious hard enough to erase the horrible memories of this game.

The answer was no.

The only kid in the 2008 graduating class at Sharks High who even rates a pass is little Misi J Talaupapa.  And that’s not for his footy.  It’s for his fucking excellent extra-credit report, titled ‘PUNCHING ANTHONY QUINN IN THE FACE’.  Oh yeah.  The crowd mimed uppercuts and so did I. 

And blah blah blah you can argue all you want about whether Quinny, recently voted the Pinkest Man in League, went for the tackle on Misi in the in-goal with or without knowing that he had already grounded the ball.  Misi didn’t give a shit and neither did I.  He just knew HE’S MAD AS HELL AND HE’S NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE.

And that punch was the one good thing you Sharkies did for me that whole game.  I wash my hands of you. 

If I was feeling nice, I would say that maybe the Sharks were a little overwhelmed by the whole thing, especially after having two weeks with nothing to do but get nervous about being in the semi-finals.  I might even admit that when the game ended and Danny Nutley cried I maybe cried too justalittlebit.  (DON’T JUDGE ME!  HE SEEMS LIKE A REALLY NICE MAN!)

But really all you need to know is that, as always, supercoach Jack Gibson is right.

Waiting for Cronulla to win a Premiership is like leaving the porch light on for Harold Holt.

For all our non-Aussie readers, this is Harold Holt.  And in true Aussie fashion he lives on in our memories, and in the HAROLD HOLT MEMORIAL SWIMMING CENTER.  Oh, the irony. 

BIGGEST BITCH IN CLASS

BILLY: Oh no you did-int, Lima. Did you just say purple washes me out?
COOPER: Just let it go. It’s totes not worth it. Plus he’s right, you know.  I always tell you you’re more of a summer.

So with Lamberon Smith out of the picture, who’s the shoo-in to be the new Queen Bee?  Oh yeah, Cooper Cronk. Little Cooper got promoted to Captain and doesn’t he absolutely fucking love it?

Archer are you putting me on fashion report?  But it’s a MANDIGAN.  They are totally in fashion.  I SAW THEM IN INDUSTRIE.

See? Fierce.

The only thing he loves more than finally being in charge is getting to tell off Anthony Quinn like an overwrought mother with a misbehaving child. ZIP IT ANTHONY! ZIP IT!  ZIP IT! YOU’RE A VIRGIN WHO CAN’T DRIVE.

edit: some fabulous person has now uploaded this special moment to youtube – AMAZING.

(Snaps also to the commentator who observed: Nothing good ever comes of Anthony Quinn getting involved. He’s totally on my Christmas card list).

Ross – you get nothing.
 

ALL THAT YOU HAVE IS YOUR SOUL

There’s a moral to this game, and I’m gonna tell you what it is.  Kiki and I were firmly on Team Sharks for this game, because we figured that our hate for the Storm was so much worse, and we would ally with the Sharks to defeat the evil Storm like Roosevelt and Churchill teaming up with Stalin.

We were wrong.  Oh, so wrong.  The plan failed.  Like the Soviet Union, the communists fell under pressure.  WAY TO SCREW US OVER STALIN.  And now I just feel really, really generally … icky about the whole thing.   Let that be a lesson to you kiddies.  You can’t compromise your principles.

Jeffrey likes to buy tiny coffees so he can pretend to the boys they are normal lattes and his muscles are huge.

The worst part is how joyful the Storm are about their whole win.  Yes there were some dramas about Brett White being suspended, but just look at them, frolicking with their tiny tiny coffees at recovery.  As though they don’t have a care in the world.

Not my Macchiato! I mean … not MY REGULAR SIZED COFFEE.

LOOK, I JUST REALLY HATE SEEING THEM HAPPY, OK?  It galls me. If you’re wondering, I also hate them when they’re sad, but mainly, when they’re happy. I don’t like to see the pods beat the humans. It Doesn’t Seem Right. And now they can prance on into the grand final for a repeat of the match they won last year. WILL THE MADNESS NEVER END?

Sigh. Why don’t I just leave you with the boys looking vaguely ridiculous and slightly couplish wearing matching velour towels (I assume they’re embroidered with their initials, too).  See ya at Homebush, bitches.

bye Bob … bye Jean! thanks for everything! … best bed and breakfast we’ve ever been to!

All pics: Getty Images

I am not a woman of particular principles. Due to my continual stories of inappropriate behaviour you may have guessed this already, but let my explain it further. Fear not, I am a lady and always keep my undies on thankyouverymuch, and I would never steal, drink drive or deliberately hurt somebody … but I am definitely not a person who makes Sensible Decisions. Therefore I don’t tend to get all moralistic on your ass, because really … I’ve probably done/said the same thing. And much worse.

I keep my moral outrage pretty much contained to one area of my life … and unsuprisingly, that is football. I will never judge you bearing illegtimate children/drug taking/being an ex-con or even wearing stilettos with shorts. Okay thats a lie I will TOTALLY judge you for bad outfit choices. However my point still stands. Essentially, I am not a judgemental person. However, I will completely and utterly judge you for being a fan of teams I Hate. And these are the Broncos, the Sharks and of course the ever hateful Storm. Ditto for the players. BOOO! HISSSS!

note: not my actual hand

So herein lies my Moral Dilemma. Naturally, no team could ever replace my beloved Dragons, but I don’t want to opt out of finals fever simply because my babies didn’t make the cut. I guess I coulda chosen the Chookies in solidarity with Sassy and Marlo, but to be honest I just don’t give a shit about them. SOZ GUYS.

At first I thought I was firmly on Team Manly (due to my Beaver love), but those crafty bitches from New Zealand have snuck up and stolen my heart.  I is so confuuuused. Anyway, as I said last week, basically I am on Team-Anyone-That-Isn’t-The- Storm. All good, I thought. Oh, I was wrooooong.

This meant I had to not only stop hating, but actively CHEER for the Broncos. Oh my sweet jesus, this was really freaking hard. I felt so conflicted. When Darius Boyd scored I was even more conflicted coz I kept imagining him (allegedly) doing naughty bizness in toilets. And then seeing him in the pristine Red V next year. ARGH. Even worse was watching Sam Thaiday coz I love that fat hairy bitch. Surely a man who hands out carnations for mothers day couldn’t be involved in (alleged) yucky times? Sureeely? I’m gonna start The Sam Thaiday Innocence Project. I will be like a law student from Wisconsin working my preppy ass off to get wrongfully accused death row inmates out of jail. I hope they make a doco and put me on the Crime and Investigation Channel. That would be awes.

note: not actually Kiki

It was big time moral dilemmas. Everytime Brisbane would score I would leap to feet and yell YESSSS GO BRONCOS. OH GOD WHAT? GO BRONCOS? ARGH EW! YAY! NO SO;DFJKLIFJKLFJ!!! *combusts* As if that wasn’t bad enough this weekend I have to….oh god, can you guys smell something? It’s like…fake tan mixed with xenophobia. With just a hint of surburban nouveau riche. It smells like….Cronulla.

That’s right, this weekend I have to cheer the bloody Sharks. As a Dragons fan this is pretty much The Worst Thing Ever but really, it has to be done. It’s a matter of principle. Is this how Roosevelt and Churchill felt when they realised they had to ally with Stalin? Banding together to defeat the bigger evil?

(For those of you who are historically inept – those are the WW2 Allied leaders. The democratic USA and England had to ally with the communist Russia to defeat Nazi Germany. GET IT PEOPLE? THE STORM! THEY ARE EVIL.I really wish I didn’t have to explain my historical lolz, but after years of making History Jokes that no one gets I’ve realised not everyone is as massively nerdy as me. Unfortunately.)

Anyway, this shit makes me feel DIRTY. And not in the Kiki gets blind and pashes an shaggy haired 18 year old at the Brighton Bar sort of way. It’s in a bad way. If you find me naked in a Dettol bath scrubbing myself with a steel wool and muttering I’ll never be clean again…must…get…clean…don’t be suprised.

Lets move on to nicer things. You know who is Nice? Davey Williams! We loves him. Apparently the Herald does too. Today they wrote a whole article about him! Good for you Davey. They describe him as being “94kg of tightly packed muscle”. I would make a joke about wanting Dave to ‘tightly pack’ one of my muscles, but I won’t. Because I’m a lady.

I do however object to two things in this article.

ONE- they call him ‘The Wolfman’. GODAMNIT PEOPLE. HE IS NOT THE WOLFMAN. Everyone knows he is The Hot Pioneer. He rides horses, chops wood and looks sexy times in long johns. He doesn’t do…well…whatever it is wolf men do.

David wished Kiera would stop making yucky jokes about his wood

Listen to me carefully media peeps - just because Dave has a beard doesn’t make him a wolf man. This is why they need us on TV/writing articles/being generally omnipresent. If you look carefully (and god knows we have, repeatedly) he is actually quite hairless. You know who is a real wolfman? CAMERON BLOODY SMITH. That bitch quite clearly shaves everyday but still has a stubble shadow.

TWO- they have totally emasculated him with their captioning. Dave probably posed for this thinking, yeh bitches, I’m totes tough and awesome and a WINGER IN A TOP 4 TEAM. I am a MAN! YESSSSS!

Then they go and caption it “Size doesn’t matter….Manly’s David Williams”

I’m dead. DEAD! I am outraged on Daves behalf. For godsakes sub-editors, he’s already having trouble. He announced on the Footy Show this evening that he is ‘basically celibate, but not by choice.’

Times are dire for Davey’s pants. At this evenings Gods Of Football presentation he totally went the pash on Matt Ballin. He’s like…girls, boys…I don’t even care! For the love of god will someone just PLEASE TOUCH ME DOWN THERE!

He really is living on Toey Island because tonight, in an blatant attempt to get laid, he wore the tightest shirt known to mankind.

David, that’s totally your school shirt from Year 10 and don’t you even try to tell me any different. WHORE!

Anyway, in case you’re wondering, Bal took out this years Leagues Sexiest Sexy Man. Or Godliest Godly God of Football or something. That competition is fucking confusing. We have christened him GI Ballin due to his miltary!like!efficiency! and carved in granite hotness. Bitch totally carries it off.

Hello hot eyebrow scar! My vajayjay is saluting as we speak.

And finally, because we are all about the Warriors at the moment, I thought I would include some Steve Price. Okay that’s clearly bullshit. I just wanted an excuse to post this -

Holy old man hotness! That photo is suprising yet … arousing. Shit, I feel dirty again. Lachie, fetch me the Dettol!

PS – I know I’ve photoshopped Dave + another man + love hearts two weeks in a row but it isn’t my fault. If he stopped doing homoerotic things then I wouldn’t have to. SEE WHAT YOU MAKE ME DO DAVID?

(caps from our fave blog, Steve Price from the lovely kingfish at fmforums)

STORY OF THE WEEK KITTENS. You know what it is. After a heinous head-twist tackle on Sam Thaiday against the Broncos on Saturday, Cameron Smith is getting his ass hauled before the judiciary this week.

Word on the street is that he might be the one who is sacrificed on the altar of justice to bring an end to wrestling in the league.  Word on the street is also HE’S GUILTY BITCHES, and then the Melbourne fans on the other side of the street, and Mark Geyer, yell back HE’S INNOCENT! A DINGO ATE HIS BABY!  It’s trial by media, mildly hysterical, and I may just love it a little bit.

Oh yeah, put a wig on Cam Smith and he’s basically Lindy Chamberlain.  I mean that metaphorically, and also literally.  Bitch should have had a part in the miniseries.

And since I am completely biased and filled with irrational rage against the Storm, I can’t really give you a balanced take on this.  In fact, yesterday, Intern Brownie totally caught us in the stationery cupboard giggling like schoolgirls and making paper effigies of Cameron Chamberlain to burn out on the patio.  If you’re wondering, by ‘girls’, I also mean John John.  He used his pube trimmings to make a surprisingly realistic beard.  So resourceful.

And it seems, after his one episode of rage, Brownie has gone back to being the voice of reason in the office, because he calmly asked us to stop, and said:

“Everyone knows my thoughts on it but I just think that two weeks out from the grand final isn’t the time to be changing the rules,” Brown said. “Before next season I think they need to sit down … because it’s not just Melbourne that do it.”

DAMMIT I HATE WHEN YOU DO THIS BROWNIE.  Spoil our fun by suggesting that punishing one person for something when multiple other people have gone unpunished may be slightly unfair.  It’s tres infuriating.

Incidentally, it’s also lucky for Cam Smith, because otherwise he’d just be left with Benny Elias protesting his innocence.

“Fair dinkum, if you psycho-analyse every tackle like that, no one would be playing the game,” Elias said.

Benny, honey.  I don’t think psycho-analyse means what you think it means.

But since Brownie is out buying paddlepops for the boys as a thank you for working late, I’m gonna give you my opinion anyway.  HANG EM ALL!  I am done with the wrestle.  It is strangling the game I love.  And if the fall-guy happens to be Cameron Smith, then it could happen to a nicer guy.  Not only the captain of the Globo Gym dodgeball team, but a dirty queenslander.  (As always, apologies to our Queensland and Melbourne readers).  And yes, I am petty and vindictive.  Don’t pretend you don’t love it.

We’ll be gathered around the wireless to find out the outcome tomorrow night.  In the meantime, we sent Lachie to the Shire to monitor the Sharks’ preparation for their clash with Globo Gym this weekend.  We are ever so proud he went on public transport by himself (although we did write his phone number on his hand just in case).

I was expecting him to come back with pics of intense training, team bonding, or Paul Gallen leaving the sports psychologist’s office.  Instead we got Sharks beachside recovery sessions, and something I didn’t really understand involving Brett Kimmorley.  I think Kiki expresses it best in photoshop form.

This had better be part of some raw-food cave-man diet plan that will help you beat the storm, Kimmorley.  That’s all I have to say.

And in the lead up to the semi-finals on the weekend (Warriors ftw!) everyone else is busy having a pissing contest over who has the most feelings.   Honestly has there ever been a league series with so much talk of feelings?  THERE AREN’T MEANT TO BE THIS MANY FEELINGS IN FOOTBALL.  It is a deadset sobstory marathon in league at the moment.  It’s like every team in league is making their tapes to send into Oprah to ask for a Special Oprah Miracle.  Beaver’s retiring! Wiki’s leaving! I used to be obese! My whole family died in a fire!

Sigh. Man up why don’t you kids?  Less whinging, more practising.

If anyone has reason to whinge it’s Anthony Tupou, and I haven’t heard a peep from him.  Not only is he out of the finals and moving to the Sharks (poor baby), Toops also has a broken kidney.  The Warriors broke his kidney!

And apparently they don’t have medical staff or hospital press liaisons in Auckland because the only quote they had about the injury was from Braith Anasta.

Roosters captain Braith Anasta said he was “weeing blood – never a good sign”.

Thanks, Dr. Anasta, for your considered medical opinion.  Now, can I suggest we wrap up this press-conference?  Dr. Anasta has to get back into theatre for his next operation.

That’s all, folks.  Feel better Toops.

And the rest of you kids can leave your praise for Kiki’s photoshop genius in the comments.  She has outdone herself, yes?

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!

I have officially watched Too Much Footy this weekend. And it’s only Sunday. Good God. So there is pretty much no chance of me writing a coherent play-by-play recap of anything I’ve watched. My little pea brain just can’t hold that much information, you know?

I have just enough room for exactly one full 80 minutes of memory, and after that for everything that goes in something has to get the boot, and I’m just left with a memory trail that goes something like CASHMERE! … jerseys, scrum, hot bitch … THAT WAS A KNOCK ON! Which is totally normal brain function, right? I thought so.

Remember that time I took a home wine-making course and forgot how to drive?

 

Not the face!

There was love, there was lust, there were heroes, there was tragedy.

The game started with a whole set of lingering close ups of David ‘Ned Kelly’ Williams. Either channel nine has been reading Errol and decided to give the punters what they want, or they have hired a new homo cameraman with excellent taste. Either way, I approve.

I’m not so keen on the commentary that goes with it though, because Matty Johns quite clearly is seriously in manlust with ‘The Wolfman’ and it makes me slightly uncomfortable. He makes this blog look chaste and reserved by comparison. SHOOSH ALREADY MATTY! Just be quiet please and go back to making your collage of ‘things that remind you of David Williams’. Make sure you include that bamboo placemat you found at Freedom last week. Mmmmm smells like beard.

I am also so impressed that Ned Kelly is now completely committed to the beard. Wanna know how I know? He’s shaved around the neck. That’s right. It’s not a joke anymore, kids. It’s a Trademark (TM). (If you’re wondering he was also having an excellent hair day. Great definition in the curl. Have you started using product, Mr. Williams?)

In other vitally important football hair news, it seems Steve Matai now has cornrows. Really, Matai? Cornrows? I don’t know what to say. What I do know is that it’s not 1995 and you’re not in Bali. Think about THAT.

When he walked on field Ray Warren actually commented on the ‘”rows of corn” Matai is sporting’ and I think that if Rabs knows what the word ‘cornrows’ means, then cornrows are no longer cool.

QED. Full marks for me.

I actually think Gus Gould and Rabs as a duo have gotten even crazier in the last seven days. I didn’t think it was possible. I like it. I can’t decide whether I loved it more when they quarrelled about how much Rabs loves Steve Matai (Gus: And your man Matai tries to convert … Rabs: He is not MY MAN MATAI. I do not OWN Steve Matai), or quarrelled about the age at which they stop giving players oranges at halftime.

Rabs: Do you WANT oranges? Hmmm? Because I will go and GET you some navals.

I can’t wait till they allow gay marriage in Australia and those two can officially settle down. It’s never too late for love, boys!

The game also proved that cornrows do not constitute a form of head protection when Cornrows Matai and teammate Luke Williamson pushed in for a try on Luke Lewis. In the process Matai and Lewis butted heads and the results were not pretty. Williamson ended up in the middle of a creepy, blood-soaked NRL tableau, with collapsed Matai on his left hip, and bleeding Luke Lewis lying to his right with his head cradled in Williamson’s knee like a unicorn being tamed by a virgin.

I’m not going to lie, it was weird. Poor little Williamson, sitting bolt upright in between two bleeders, kinda gingerly patting Luke Lewis’ hair and making an awkward face that says HE’S NOT EVEN REALLY ON MY TEAM. DO I HAVE TO BE NICE TO HIM? YOU GUYS?

And then more tragedy … Steve Matai sort of made me like him. Even with the cornrows! Don’t you dare tell anyone. Once they patched up his bleeding skull, put a headgear in his hand, and send him back to the sideline, that crafty bitch won me right over with his vanity. He stood there in limbo for aaages, half putting the headgear on and laughing with embarassment.

I CAN’T GO OUT THERE IN THIS THING. THERE ARE CAMERAS! PEOPLE WILL LAUGH!

.. and then he didn’t. Seriously, that was it. We didn’t see him for the rest of the match. Matai had a tanty and refused to go back on looking ridiculous and left David Williams to take over the goal kicking with his patented brand of talking-to-himself crazy before every goal.

Note to the video ref in this match: I can’t BELIEVE you went ref’s call on that Brett Stewart try. At the very least you could have given him Benefit of the Doubt. I mean, dammit, the kid has DIABETES. Is there not some kind of BENEFIT OF DIABETES try rule??

And, lastly, saddest of all: Menzies. Oh, Menzies. Still brilliant with the ball. A fearless statesman of league, a vision in headgear. But, like Penrith’s own Danny Glover – Rhys Wesser – Menzies’ legs ain’t what they used to be. When he broke down the right hand side with a clear 70 metres between him and the try line, there was no cry from the commentary box of ‘JUGGERNAUT’. There were forty great metres, then an offload and a tackle. It makes me sad. I think it made him sad too. It seems relentless time has worn upon the demi-God of football as it wears upon us mortals. Manly won 30-10, but it still feels like the end of an era.

God damn was this a depressing game. Melbourne won. The Titans were ground up like tiny sad little peppercorns. No one was surprised. Cameron Smith apparently shaved but still had a grey beardshadow. Now he is a wolfman. Israel Folau did amazing things and is still a Mormon. Matt Geyer is still bald. The Titans (even the ones who aren’t injured) are still totally sick of life. Scott Prince was petrified with cold on the sidelines like one of those caveman corpses they recover from glaciers. I seriously think his hands might have been fused together with frostbite.

I can’t even talk about it anymore. 44-4.

Cronulla Sharks vs St George Illawarra Dragons – The Battle of Captain Cook Drive

Now this game was Real Football. It was intense. Like grabbing-someone’s-arm, have-to-see-how-it-ends football. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Matt Cooper look so intense. At the end of the game he even made an emotion. In his face and everything!

Pie-eating Greg Bird was so focussed in his return game that he didn’t cry once. Hornbag was possibly the angriest I’ve ever seen him. I checked with my pants and they agree.

It was also alllll yours St George, but towards the end I think you lost focus, and the Sharks didn’t. I’m sorry boys, but it’s true. I definitely don’t think they have more heart, but I think they showed more on the field. I will say though that this was a war of attrition, and you Dragons boys took it really hard.

Brett Morris was taken off with an injured shoulder. Justin Poore with a dislocated knee. I felt like there needed to be a halftime armistice for you to gather up the fallen before the battle began again. There’s something that toubles me about you Dragons though, and it needs to be said: the head-shaving. Please explain. If I was extending the war metaphor I would say that, as armies go, you look more like an Aryan Brotherhood militia than anything else. Is this your doing, Hornbag? Do you want everyone to look neat and practical like you?

Even Dan Hunt and Justin Poore were sporting newly shaven cue balls last night. Not to mention you Hornbag, Matt Cooper, Jamie Soward, Dean Young and at least one Morris twin (with the other twin’s hair also getting progressively shorter). Or wait a second – IS THIS BROWNIE’S DOING? Does Intern Brownie shave all your heads before each game so you all match his hairdo? I am absolutely appalled Brownie. Did you even think about me and how much I love a good head of hair? Hmmmm? I am shocked by your selfishness.

You Dragons have a long way too go before you look as military as Luke Covell though. He is tres jarhead. The hair, the American jaw, the glassy quality in his eyes. (Which is also why I’m not keen to say a word against him. Well done on your win, scary Luke Covell! Please don’t finish me off with friendly fire!)

Oh yeah, Flossy Nightingale also got dakked. Big time. I only like clothes- on- Flossy, but Kiki DEMANDED we post the photos, because and I quote ‘thats what the punters expect from Errol Sassy….bare arse.’

South Sydney Rabbitohs vs New Zealand Warriors – The *****

Okay FINE I didn’t really watch this. Don’t judge me. I’m not even going to pretend that I care. The Rabbitohs won.

PS Hi Russell Crowe!

Sydney Roosters vs North Queensland Cowboys – THOSE BOYS NEED THERAPY

Do you know what this game was full of? (Apart from the Roosters being distracted and making me worry about whether they are psychologically prepared for the focus and discipline required to win consistently in a professional sport).

It was full of my favourite rule. I’ve said in the past how much I love Benefit of the Doubt, and yes I still love you Benny. You are very sweet and very supportive. But this new rule? Well, it just makes me laugh. And that’s so very important in a relationship.

If you don’t follow league you won’t know that packing a scrum when one is called stops the clock. So a team that’s despy for more time will, as soon as the ref calls for a scrum, sprint to the location, and DIVE into one as fast as is humanly possible. Except because the other team doesn’t give a shit, it’s just five men with their heads between each other’s arses standing in a triangle packing a scrum against thin air. It is HILARIOUS. I adore it. More of that please! And if you want more people to watch rugby league, you could liven it up a bit. Maybe give them extra points if they can manage to make a pyramid? I’d pay to watch that.

This game was amazing in that it also managed to distract me from the hotness that is JohnJohn Williams. (Note to John – I see you shaved off the beard! Thank God! I’m so glad you read Errol and listen to our suggestions).

Because out of nowhere my Chooks have suddenly become the whoriest team in the league. When did this happen? I have no idea. Those uniforms were not regulation, I’ll tell you now. They were twice as tight around the guns, a good 5 cm shorter in the shorts, and I love it. GOOD WORK ROOSTERS DESIGN TEAM.

My personal highlight was when the Mayan King Soliola actually rolled up his sleeves for most of the first half. Weren’t they whorey enough for you, baby? Wanted to flash a little more bicep? My only regret is that I can’t find a picture anywhere on the internets of Brent Grose in his painted-on jersey. Bitch did not get that in the adult section of the Roosters store, that is for sure. It was an XS outfit on an M man. I don’t think he could even lift his arms. Which would also explain a bomb he missed, now I think of it.

Luke O’Donnell tried so hard, but just couldn’t compete for attention. Not even with a midriff-flash. And despite the Rooster’s strange success complex that means they can’t play well unless they’re underdogs, they managed to win the game. Or rather, not lose it. I think it was the shorty-shorts. Helps em run faster. Makes em feel pretty, too.

And to finish I would like to point out that since Sonny Bill fled the country, I think Willie Mason has finally realised they’re never getting back together, and moved on and found someone else. And do you know what? GOOD FOR YOU BB. It’s healthy! I know you loved him, but you can’t pine forever.  I think it’s lovely.

All the Oh Errol girls are tres ambivalent about the news that Intern Brownie has been offered a new fulltime gig and will be leaving us at the end of the year. Proud as punch and happy because we love him dearly, but kind of devo, because … well we’ll just miss seeing his confused little face around the office. Spilling Eccoccino on his Dragons jersey, accidentally wiping photocopy toner all over his face, purring when I tickle him under the chin.

Worst of all, it means the search is on for a new intern to take his place. Errol is a full-time enterprise you know. We can’t manage this shit on our own.

So while Jessica is already busy planning Brownie’s farewell party, I’ve been distracting myself poring through the pile o’resumes we’ve received in the past few weeks. Seems like the kids have heard about Brownie’s sweet hot tub deal and want a piece of the action.

One application letter had the name T.Carney on the back and weird spots of discolouration on the envelope so I just kinda left it sealed and threw it away. Joel Moon’s application was just a set of shirtless photos of him. HOW SHALLOW DO YOU THINK WE ARE, JOEL? Well I kept the photos, so probably quite shallow. But this is a business Joel, so don’t expect an interview.

Just kidding. You’re on the shortlist darlin.

I also binned a few that were unsigned and filled with mysterious white powder. I think we can all guess who they were from.

One in the pile really caught my attention though. After I finished licking the meat pie residue off Greg Bird’s letter, I realised it was one damn impressive set of references.

Now I already have a soft spot for the amazing Birdman. I know I usually say bitchy things about the Sharks, but what can I say? He’s a fiesty little pugdog. I like that.

I love his hilarious expression in his NRL ad with Ben Mendelsohn. I love his crazy Mexican bandido moustache:

… almost as much as his ridiculous lady-glasses. Bitch has no shame. I also like that.

I especially love his Ancient Rome-style tendency to gluttony. I would bet anything he also has a fetish for eating during sex. You know it’s true. True and hot.

But it was his reference from his (admittedly not always the most sportsmanlike) teammate Paul Gallen that really set him apart.