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footy observations: tigers, chickens and chicken legs

February 6th, 2010

The important news is that Errol HQ will be pretty empty for the next week or so. You see, Intern John John’s busy with pre-season training up in FNQ, work experience boy Lachie is spending the weekend out in Penrith at the Panther’s members day …. And us? We have a busy week ahead of BEING AWESOME.

Tomorrow Kiki and I are hitting up the Return to South Sydney game at Redfern Oval, and entertaining some lucky peeps at a pre-game party. Then we’re flying up to the Gold Coast to bring you live bloggy-updates about all the All-Stars vs Indigenous preparations.  Lozzy’s volunteered to mind the nest/water the plants/make sure no neighbourhood hooligans break in and steal our booze, then she’s coming up on Friday so the whole Errol crew can watch the game together.

Okay, so maybe not so much “BEING awesome” as “BEING three losers … around awesome people”. Potato, Potahto.

And if 2009 was the year of rugby league scandal (aren’t they all?) …. Then 2010 marks the Return to League. Every Lote, Timana and his dog is coming back to the loving arms of rugby league.

We knew you’d come back, babies!

Timana Tahu has come from the dark side of the force, aka rugby union, to play with the Eels. Lote’s come from the Telegraph’s back page to sign with the Tigers … even Greg Bird has come back from his busy schedule of court appearances to sign with the Titans.

It’s just like that Peter Allen song: all of the shiiiiiiips come back to the shoooorrrrre. He wrote that about rugby league, right? Yep I thought so. He totally did.

Just quietly, he would also totally approve of Greg Bird’s choice of team: the Titans have by far the prettiest uniforms in the league. I know this because my fierce gay friend Rick tells me so. Also, because Prince Scotty the Caramel plays for the Titans, and whichever uniform he wears is by default the prettiest.

More importantly, how many potential halves do the Titans have now? Mat? Scott? Preston? Greg? Is Carty running a full two-string team now, like NFL? Shit is ridiculous. And by ‘ridiculous’, clearly I mean ‘I’m shitty they don’t play for my team’.

I also, apparently, have the mind of a small child. Because anytime anyone mentions Lote’s new job, they seem to use the phrase ‘Lote the tiger’, which causes my brain to produce this image of Tony the Tiger:

LOTE THE TIGER I LOVE YOUR WORK! AND YOUR TASTY SUGARY CEREAL!

I like to think Lote picked the Tiges purely for this reason. Mark my words within six months he’ll be wearing a jaunty red neckerchief with his Tigers uniform and spruiking Frosties breakfast cereal in the ad breaks of the Channel 7 evening news. Mark. My. Words.

Kiki thinks the powers that be at the Tigers needed to hire Lote to keep up their dreadlock quote. After losing Daine Laurie to the Panthers they were in serious deficit.

It’s also possible he just wanted to be close to Blake Ayshford. After all, the man has eyes.

And while other teams have been busy bringing ex-league players back to the fold, my boys the Roosters have been busy signing up … Steggles.

That’s right kids, Steggles chickens are the new major sponsors of the Sydney Roosters, and it’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. If there’s one thing Errol loves, it’s Really Literal Thinking.

Remember that time Kiki posted about going to Orange AND USED A PICTURE OF AN ORANGE?

Yep, we are all over this chicken-to-chicken connection. Sure, as Brett Oaten kindly pointed out, it might not be the best fit for a team of Roosters to be sponsored by a company whose primary business is the wholesale slaughter of chickens.


The chicken formerly known as Brent Grose.

And as twitterer and generally hilarious human Jen Bennett suggested:

… now we know what they do with underperforming players. Wait, has anyone seen Fittler recently?

LIES! They told me they sent Freddy to a farm!

I like to think Daniel Conn was being serious when he told facebook now they get paid in chicken. Mmmmm, chicken. What footy player doesn’t love food, hmmmm? More importantly, what self-respecting footy player doesn’t love chicken?

We know for sure that Stanley Waqa does, because he told us so the first time we ever met him, back when he was playing for the Newtown Jets. I believe his exact words were – as he looked up from eating a chicken schnitzel: “… I love chicken”.

I rest my case.

All they need now is to convince the Steggles sister brand – Bartter Eggs – to sponsor the Roosters Under 20s side. It’s called Brand Synergy. Get onto it, Nick Politis.

[Personally I think the Chooks should print all position numbers on jerseys this year as Nugget 1, Nugget 2 etc etc - lozzy]

But back to the Return to South Sydney match tomorrow: the Bunnies will be playing the Manly Sea Eagles, and there’s one man we’re especially excited to see.

Michael Robertson … come on down!

The reason? We really, really need to check out his backside.

I’m serious. According to the Cumberland Courier, back in the day when Robbo was signed to the Sea Eagles, he was a legs-and-arse charity case. The generally accepted wisdom was that a footy player needed strong legs and a lot of junk in the trunk (this certainly explains Wendell’s success), but Robbo:

“… failed miserably on the sight test. His legs wouldn’t have been out of place on an anorexic chicken while his backside was non-existent.”

Poor Robbo, with his chicken legs and sad, unpadded pelvis.

And poor Robbo for having it revealed in the newspaper. Why does the media constantly print and broadcast embarrassing things about Robbo and his crotchal region? Remember the wang dance?

But rest assured, because we are committed journalists and confirmed perves, we will use our time tomorrow at Redfern Oval wisely, and make sure that we suss out the current state of Robbo’s union, so to speak.

Till next time, make sure you check our twitter account for all the vital Errol hapz. See you on the Goldy!

12 

footy observations : jamal, daine and the federal government

February 3rd, 2010

WHAT UPPPPPPP!

My god it’s been awhile since we’ve e-connected, right kittens? I bet you miss me like Danny Wicks misses his freedom. Unless of course you follow us on Twitter. I am all over the Twitter. I even have my own account now. Try to control your excitement.

[Ooh, yes! Me too! follow me, love me, and enjoy the minutiae of my daily life, twitter-style. - S ]

Tweeting is fun. Tweeting after a few vodkas is even better. Sassy and I are still trying to figure out what hilarious political commentary I was trying to tweet at 4am from QBar late last year. We found it the next morning, just sitting there in Twitteriffic, half finished.

“Imma let you finish, but the federal government is …”

IS WHAT KIKI? IS WHAAAAT? And is that, was I trying to, wait … was I making a Kanye West joke? About the Australian Federal Government? Worst of all, I totally remember us both absolutely cracking up at the time and saying “we have to tweet this!” And now it’s lost forever. RIP awesome joke, we hardly knew thee.

Anyway, back to things that are relevant. This off-season has been particularly punishing for me.  The only things that have kept me from complete emotional oblivion are:

a) The Contender (turns out boxing is almost as good as footy, also I LOVE YOU GARTH.)

b) the fact I live at the beach now and am treated to a daily show of hot tattooed shirtlessness frolicking in my driveway

c) the way in which rugby league keeps churning out the top shelf entertainment despite the fact there are no actual games being played.

Let’s start with Jamal Idris, shall we? Our favourite (and possibly only) Afro-diginal footy player. And after this recent story, he is fast becoming one of our favourite all around humans. Watch out Anthony Bourdain/Wendell Sailor/Zac Efron, this kid is gaining on ya!

I first read this article on my phone whilst in bed, attempting to get to sleep. It didn’t help my slumber because I spent the next 20 minutes literally loling at the hilarity of it all. I think I even said “oh Jamal, I love you” out loud. Yeh, that’s not weird at all.

There’s so much goodness in this article, I barely know where to start.

“Acting is something that I’ve really thought about getting into for a couple of years, but I don’t really know how to go about it,” Idris told The Daily Telegraph after the Bulldogs’ annual Twenty20 cricket match at ANZ Stadium yesterday.

I love the ‘really thought about it’. It’s not just a passing fancy people! Jamal is Serious about this. When it comes to his future career as a thespian, bitch is thinking Rodin style.

k

I’ve always thought Jamal was like an overgrown puppy. Adorable and enthusiastic and delightfully innocent. Remember when he signed his Bulldogs contract last year and didn’t realise he had to pay tax? LOVE. He displays his gorgeous naivete again with this gem:


“I didn’t do drama at school or anything like that, but love watching movies and DVDs. It’s hard to describe … but when I watch a movie I sort of get carried away and can imagine myself being there in the scene.”

Oh, honey. You are amazing. Well Jamz, imagine no more. With the power of a) my brain and b) photoshop you can see your acting career in solid visuals. I’ve decided if you’re gonna act, go all OUT baby. Forget predictable special effects blockbusters. Be brave and REMAKE THE CLASSICS. Oh yes.

Jamal Idris is….Citzen Kane.


ROOOOOSEEEBUDDDD

Not into Orson Welles and multiple Academy Awards? Okay then. Everyone loves a southern gothic tale sooooo…what about, some Tennesee Williams?


Stelllaaaaa! The goggles, they do nothing!

Every aspiring actor wants to be Marlon Brando. This role would be perfect for our boy Jamal. I know it’s intmidating, but if he wants, he can pop over to Errol HQ to run lines and practice the infamous soaking wet white t-shirt scene. Intern John John, fetch the hose!

But if he wants to start small, I’ve come up with the perfect compromise. Stick to what he knows. ie: being pigtailed and adorable.

That pirate hat is absolute killer.

In other God-footy-is-hilarious-like-no-other-sport news, the Sunday Herald tells me Daine Laurie and Willie Mason are in the midst of a feud. WE LOVE FOOTY FEUDS. They are so … biblical. And by the sounds of it, this one is an absolute doozy.

Recently described by the ABC as a “rugby league vagrant” (HAHAHA), Willie has been having a bad time of it lately. It’s made him bitchy like woah and apparently he’s been blabbing all over town that D.Laurs is a ‘poor excuse for a footballer’ and ‘a drunk’. Unsuprisingly, Daine took to this news rather negatively.

He told the Herald : “Tell Willie Mason when I see him, I’m going to slap him in the face”.

OH MY GOD. I AM DEAD FROM AWESOME. I know it’s only Febuary, but hot damn this is easily the best league quote of the year.

Now I don’t like to boast (that’s a lie), but as always, Errol is ahead of the curve. Cultural zeitgeists you say? Oh, I agree. Way back in 2008, we spotted Daine Laurie as a slapping extraordinaire. Not just any old slap, but a BITCH slap. You heard it here first.