It’s true, all good things come to an end. Just as everyone’s favourite ironic self-promoter Wendell retired, the Kangaroos shaved off their awesome mos. Apparently they didn’t want to face up to the English in the Four Nations final with giant pimpin 70s moustaches.

Johnathan Thurston and his dead mo walking.

To this I say: that’s fucking insane. If you thought the mozzie twins distracted the Frenchies with their saminess and twinniness, how much do you think moustaches would throw the poms off? Johnathon Thurston held out for just a little bit longer than the rest, but eventually even JT went the shave on his Cheech Marin moustache (thanks to Adge for the pop culture reference!) and went clean-faced.

RIP the mos. My pants and my heart are equally sad.

Although not nearly as sad as they were when I realised that as part of their training in England the boys have been playing soccer.

Shillo and Jarryd-with-a-Y making my ladyparts depressed.

…. and Robbie helps them finish the job.

SOCCER? REALLY? As if I don’t have enough problems, now my national league team is inflicting the most boring of all God’s creations – soccer – on me. And no, I won’t call it football. I refuse. YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. UNLESS YOU’RE EUROPEAN, CALLING SOCCER FOOTBALL IS JUST KINDA PRETENTIOUS KTHANKS.

Billy Slater had limited success. Probably would have done better with a round ball. He may be the Special Child of the Kangaroos.

And according to Kangaroos TV the boys have also been busy doing other-things-that-in-no-way-relate-to-rugby-league. For their day off they went, wait for it …. trap shooting. Really. No offence intended to the Kangaroos squad, but if I was in charge and sitting behind my giant mahogany desk reading my emails and approving requests for the Kangaroos on which activities the ARL was willing to pay for them to do, ones involving WEAPONS would not be high on my list. After the two year scandal-fest that has been the Aussie NRL in 2008 and 2009, I would totally have a nothing that cuts or shoots policy for all footy players at all times. Instead of kitting them out with guns and sending them to a field in England where they might accidentally shoot:

a) a miscellaneous Pom

b) some kind of valuable privately-owned pheasant

c) themselves

d) all of the above,

and end up in the British tabloids, I would have a firmly Soft Objects Only policy. You know, stuff like … sending them to play in the ball room at Ikea. Building forts out of doonas. Eating marshmallows. That kinda thing.

I seriously can’t believe the whole thing didn’t end in tears and/or a lawsuit.

I think it explains why the players had to shave off their moustaches, though. I’ve watched a lot of Crime documentaries in my time, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about creepy serial killer type dudes, it’s that they are bandits for a moustache. I’m not kidding. The Green River Killer, Jeffrey Dahmer, Leonard Lake … it’s moustaches ahoy!

Basically, nothing is creepier than a man with a mo carrying a weapon. Most of the time they are just plain awesome, but with a gun in your hand, all of a sudden you look kinda like you should be driving an unmarked white van and doing something shifty.

I think Nathan Hindmarsh and his few-day’s-growth proves this pretty authoritatively. Swap that microphone for a shotty and he would be TERRIFYING. Moustaches and shooting just don’t mix.

Of course no Kangaroos update would be complete without our Dave Taylor (also moustache-less) spotting for the day. HI DT!

Back in Australia Willie Mason is in trouble for mouthing off.

In other news the sky is blue.

And the Gold Coast Titans have some schmick new uniforms for 2010:

Does anyone else think Scotty Prince has been practising this? His pensive yet content look into the distance is pretty much perfect right here.  Has he secretly been doing catalogue work no one knows about? Cause that shit is GOOD.

Scotty gets some feedback on his ‘pensive’ face

Meanwhile I know y’all love updates on the Errol staff. Work experience boy Lachie has been on light duties since he injured his shoulder and has been hitting the weights to get all bulked up. Clearly we would’ve appreciated it more if he used his newfound strength to make Wendell Sailor stay at St. George, but NO DICE. We’re gonna have to have a talk with him I think.

And I’ll leave you with Adam MacDougall’s thoughts on Wendell leaving:

THE game is going to miss Wendell Sailor – but not as much as I will.

MADDOG YOU BIG SOFTIE. Wanna hug?

All pics via Getty Images

One week into Movember already … I’m so happy/sad/overwhelmed in my pants region. Obviously I’m overjoyed that people are starting to show some dirty facial hair, but kinda heartbroken at the same time that my favourite month of the year is already a quarter over. IF ONLY THERE WAS A WHOLE MO-YEAR. Mo-thousand-and-ten, anyone? Two-thousand-and-beard-leven?

Just think about it, people. That’s all I ask.

Meanwhile the Four Nations is also almost over, which I suppose we should talk about. The Kangaroos held out a spirited comeback by the English last weekend, blah blah blah … the main thing is Adrian Morley didn’t start any fights. This meant I was disappointed, so let’s move on. Even though they won, the boys still have to face off against France before making it to the final.

And there’s been lots of dramz about the fact that Inglis and Cam Smith and Billy Slater weren’t going to be in the team. Instead, (one half of the cutest twins on earth) J. Moz and Michael Jennings were picked to play in the centres, Robbie Farah at hooker, and Cooper Cronk on the bench.

Sexiest coach in league nominee Tim Sheens is Not Pleased.

Everyone was calling them the “B team”, which in my opinion = not really that bad. Call me crazy, but considering my greatest ever sporting achievement was taking out the 50m backstroke final at the Independent Girls Grammar Schools’ Sporting Association swimming carnival in 1993, I reckon being in the B team for the Kangaroos is pretty fucking sweet. Just sayin. Apparently Tim Sheens has higher standards than me, though, because he was tres offended.

Kiki was also offended, because she agrees with whatever Tim Sheens thinks, because, and I quote “HE’S JUST SO DREAMY”. True story.

Personally, I also think reuniting the Mozzie twins on the left side of the field is a stroke of coaching genius. First of all, it will give them a psychological boost to get them over the fact that while everyone else in the Kangaroos is sporting amazing Movember moustaches, they’re sporting … um … skin. Sure you’re hairless, but you’re representing your country! Good for you darlings!

Will the Errol girls still love me if I can’t grow hair for charity?

Secondly, it’s totally gonna confuse the Frenchies. Since Setanta folded, I’m guessing the French haven’t been watching much of the NRL. Assuming French television is as backwards as french plumbing, this means all they’ll have had to watch for the past few months is right-wing political talk shows, repeats of Neighbours dubbed into French and old Jane Birkin film clips.

Clearly, this means that they’ll get the shock of their lives when two identical twins run out on the field and they have to mark them.

They’ll be all mais qu’est-ce que c’est? Quelle confusion! Est-ce qu’ils sont des gemelles? Je ne sais pas! Croissant! Ou est-ce qu’on met le table?

(Disclaimer: some of that may have just been random snippets from my year 7 French book. Whatever. Just be grateful I didn’t accidentally explain to you how to get the bus to Creteil to go windsurfing).

The point is Tim Sheens is a Machiavellian genius.

There’s also a lot of talk about the French being niggly in the game, because they have nothing to lose. I also think it would happen, mainly because they are French. Europeans care not for rules! It’s one of my favourite things about them. I almost fell over in shock the first time I got to a Metro station in Paris and realised not only are there no voiceovers warning you to stand back from the track and no yellow lines, they even let you OPEN THE DOOR YOURSELF. Insanity! Who knew there were places where you’re allowed to do as you please and fend for yourself? You can even drink in the street.

As opposed to Australia where there are rules for absolutely everything, because we are considered to be inherently kind of incompetent and untrustworthy and need to be protected from ourselves. IT’S CAUSE WE’RE CONVICTS, ISN’T IT?

Meanwhile if you think we’re excited about footy, you should see the French kids. They’re bandits for the Kangaroos! Apparently they mobbed Jonathon Thurston and trapped him against the side of the team bus with the sheer force of their fandom.

Maybe it’s because he’s a world-famous halfback. But maybe, just maybe, it’s because the French appreciate a good moustache. I’m going with the mo. You know it makes sense! It also explains why there’s that massive flock of kids surrounding David Shillington, because he is growing an especially natty mo, don’t you think?

Aw, stop it you guys! You’re making me blush! (Just kidding, don’t stop).

What can I say? I’m a sucker for a classic mo. As much as I enjoy the way Jonathon Thurston looks as though he was a key player in the Sydney waterfront dispute of 1998:

(Pls feel free to use your imagination to insert and/or photoshop Jonathon Thurston here.)

… I can’t resist a neat little 1930s moustache. Which means that the Sassy prize for the first week goes to Cooper Cronk:

Amazing. It’s almost Errol Flynn-ish. Naturally, we adore it.

Jennings and Thaiday are eager to be considered for next week’s Sassy prize

Yes, yes, we see you too, boys.

And while we’re talking facial hair, shout outs have to go to Billy Slater, for his amazing Super Mario effort:

Nathan Hindmarsh for his ongoing transformation into Russell Hammond:

and, um …. participation awards? Sure, let’s call it that, for Jarryd-with-a-Y and Robbie Farah:

Participation awards, babies! (Also, in Robbie’s defence, he has probably been too busy negotiating with the Unions and transport companies on the waterfront with JT to have time to grow a mo).

Remember to watch the game TONIGHT on channel 9, and come back with your game/mo updates. And to sponsor the boys:

GO HERE

All pics via Getty Images.

So you should just about have time to read this before you watch the money you bet slip away the Cup this afternoon. That sounds bitter, right? It’s not meant to. I have a real soft spot for Melbourne Cup (Kiki hates it with the fire of a thousand suns, if you’re wondering. Along with glitter nailpolish, it’s one of the only things we disagree on).

Mainly, this is because I approve of events where you can drink on a Tuesday morning without fear of judgment. Sure, you can drink on regular Tuesdays, but there’s always that nagging voice/narky passerby/priest/boss/therapist who comes along and ruins it by suggesting that maybe you should drink your morning orange juice without champagne in it. UM, IT’S MADE OF GRAPES. HOW IS THAT NOT ACCEPTABLE AS A BREAKFAST BEVERAGE? FASCISTS.

I also have fond memories of my slightly-morally-compromised Nanna picking me up early from primary school every Melbourne Cup day so I could come home and eat tiny tiny sandwiches with her and her silver-haired friends, and see first hand whether my horse won. This mattered because Nan would also put $2 bets on for me at the TAB. Any day when you get to miss school AND WIN EIGHT BUCKS is, needless to say, pretty much the greatest day ever for a six year old. That eight bucks could buy you 800 chocolate freckles. Or a primary school slave for about a week. No wonder I love Melbourne Cup day. It’s just a whole inevitable Pavlovian thing, you know?

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that children love gambling.

And of course Melbourne Cup also involves some of my all-time favourite things as an adult. These things include, but are not limited to:

• Drunk girls buying giant bags of Doritos at the servo on Alison Road opposite the racecourse at 6pm. Nothing goes with Doritos like wilted feathers and a bunyan.
• Fascinators in general. They’re played out and ugly, yet people refuse to let them go, which I find delightful in a really mean and peverse way. Think of it as the headwear equivalent of ‘the Emperor has no clothes’.
• The actual news being replaced by endless montages of horses and people in fancy outfits for me to judge as I eat my dinner. YES PLEASE.
• More importantly: footage on the news of some girl from Melby who got blind and vommed in a sulo. Anything that makes my behaviour in general life look better is something I approve of.
• Awkward office Melbourne Cup functions. When I worked in an office, the prospect of having to make small talk with Sheila from accounts over a glass of slightly warm champas in the foyer, while she rocks a printed wrap dress with her regular day-to-daqy office mules and asks me why I don’t have flowers in my hair made me want to die. Now that I don’t I think they are just peachy.
• Did I mention you can drink in the day? At work?

And because the Australian Kangaroos team are still on their quest to be the most awesome sporting team in Aussie history, they’re not just doing Movember, they’re also on the Bigpond website doing a Melbourne Cup Sweeps.

Of COURSE they’re doing a Melbourne Cup sweeps. It’s part of their big plan to Make Sassy Love Them. And yes, boys, the plan is totally working.

I may have squealed a little bit watching the video. In my defence, I’m only human. If you can watch giant footy players jumping in the air to try and pull tiny bits of paper out of a bowl and exclaiming with glee at their horses without squealing a little bit, then you have no soul.

Here’s my pick out of the footy boys’ tips:

Ben Hannant likes Master O’Reilly, because it’s running as number 4, and his kid is turning 4 today. You can’t argue with that logic! It’s the kind of logic that people have used for centuries to make up PINs for their EFTPOS cards and win lotteries. It’s foolproof.

Disclaimer: May not be actual Ben Hannant.

But if you really want a good tip, you’d have to go with Billy Slater right? His pick in the sweeps and his pick to win is Alcopop, and you have to admit bitch knows his ponies. If anyone has the inside word from the land of the jockeys, it has to be Billy. Plus, if you look closely, you can also see that he’s well into growing a sweet sweet moustache for Mobember … and if you can’t trust a man growing a mo for charity, who can you trust?

SEE? Sweet mo indeed.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to bet on Alcopop. IF IT LOSES YOU OWE ME $20 BILLY.

So you know how we can be narky bitches? Some things make even our black hearts overflow with joy. And two of those things are happening RIGHT NOW. Thanks to some pretty fabulous boys, October and November have quickly become my favourite non-footy time of the year.

TIMMY MANNAH DOES THE WORM

Remember last year we told y’all about Justin Poore, Nathan Hindmarsh and the boys and the awesome work they were doing for Village of Hope in Rwanda?

Pic. Gregg Porteous via news.com.au

Well apparently it was enough to inspire J.Poore to single-handedly try and provide enough content to fill up the Daily Telegraph’s ‘Scandal-Free Back Page’ for the whole of 2009. Because using his giant front-rowers arms to build homes for the Rwandans still suffering from the genocide of the 1990s wasn’t enough, he set up Poore Rwanda, which has already raised more than 30 grand towards the goal of building five homes for families in need, AND has taken another bunch of Eels players over to do their bit.

Um …. are you speechless? Yeah, me too. Pretty sure when I first heard about all of this I had to pause, put my cereal spoon down (why yes, I was having cereal for dinner. What of it?), and the only words I could manage to spit out were: “YOU MAKE ME WANT TO BE A BETTER MAN”.

Seeing the work J.Poore, Joel Reddy, Joe Galuvao, Tim Mannah and Kris Keating were doing on this trip is almost too much, you know?

I’m like a five year old, I don’t handle too much excitement well. Like the time in Las Vegas when I was so drunk excited at the prospect of seeing Elton John live at Caesar’s Palace I almost lost my damn mind. Kiki literally had to tell me to STOP SKIPPING THROUGH THE CASINO. YOU LOOK LIKE AN INSANE PERSON. It may have been because I was wearing a leopard print skirt at the time. I’m not sure. But I do know she was thisclose to giving me a flash of Phenergen and sending me back to the Hard Rock.

So you can imagine what I looked like when I saw the first pics of the boys over in Rwanda. Not just being adorable and doing good … but being fucking hilarious and awesome and Oz. They’re pretty much international ambassadors for Aussie culture.

Which makes sense, really, because if there’s one thing Australian men always ALWAYS do when their overseas, it’s roam in packs. Seeing an Aussie man alone overseas is like spotting a Tasmanian Tiger. And it’s the same with footy players – where there’s one, there’s always more. Usually also wearing screen-printed hoodies or team tracksuit pants. Cause that’s how they roll.

And the Eels boys over in Rwanda didn’t just have the ‘group travel thing down’ … they’re also ambassadors for Aussie fashionz. Check it out:

Joel Reddy displays the national costume of all Aussie boys when overseas: boardshorts.

Timmy Mannah wears his heart on his bucket hat. MATE DID YOU KNOW I’M AUSTRALIAN? IT SAYS SO ON MY HAT/TOWEL/BOARDSHORTS/HAVAIANAS.

And is that a chesty bonds I spy over there on the left on Justin Poore? A CHESTY BONDS LOOKING ON WHILE TIM MANNAH DOES THE WORM?

Excuse me while I die of joy.

So far, Hope Rwanda has built 30 houses for homeless families in three years, and if you wanna give them a little helping hand, maybe head over to HOPE:Rwanda or Poore Rwanda … you know you want to.

ps. Welcome home, boys!

Rwanda pics copyright www.hoperwanda.org

MOUSTACHES ARE FOR WINNERS

And yep, that’s the other reason why October and November make me happy in my heart … and in my pants. ONLY FIVE SLEEPS TILL MOVEMBER!

Nyello, I have an awesome mo on the line … will you accept the charges?

All of us Errol girls are complete bandits for a man with a moustache. Which, to be honest, you should be able to tell considering that we have Errol Flynn and his dapper little moustache rocking out on our website banner. HI EZ!

I love any man who’s willing to give up vanity and be part of Movember. Cause those first two weeks of trying to grow a mo are seriously bleak. They’re the facial hair equivalent of those awkward teenage years, where you have to wander around your workplace trying to look authoritative and competent despite the fact that you have four or five tentative, sad little moustache hairs sitting on your lip, and everyone looking at you like they’re not quite sure whether you’re doing Movember, or have just gone through a bad breakup and given up on life.

Plus you can’t wear a tracksuit of any kind for at least a fortnight cause, with the creepy little half-mo, it makes you look like a teenage meth dealer.

The upside, of course, is that at the end of four weeks you have a fucking sweet moustache that makes me girls go crazy for you, and you get to raise much-needed funds and awareness for men’s depression and prostate cancer. [I'd like to add that this will be our first ever Movember where one of us is actually going out with a mo-grower. That lady is me and I could not be more excited *waves at Suchy* - lozzy]

So any man who signs up for Movember has our respect. Also, they can feel free to come up and say hi if they see me in the street and I’ll give them complimentary gropes.

Last year we celebrated Movember by running our own campaign with everyone’s favourite intern, John Williams … can you believe we raised almost TWO AND A HALF GRAND? I seriously still can’t believe it.

This year, we’re not running our own Mo-team, but we’re doing something almost as good. We’re throwing our support behind the Kangaroos.

Because you all read our blog over on She Knows the Rules (you do … right? RIGHT? Hmmmm?) you already know that this year the Kangaroos are doing Movember.

Finally! Our dream of footy players being forced to participate in Movember has come true. Apparently they’re actually competing to see who can grow the best mo, but I think we all know already that’s gonna be Cameron Smith. There’s no way that bitch is gonna let anyone beat him. THIS IS HIS EVENT. HE FUCKING OWNS IT. If there was a Four Nations Tournament for hair-growing he would be captain, for reals. With Sam Thaiday as his deputy.

Cam Smith has already hinted he plans to grow a handlebar, also known as the Merv Hughes. Good choice, by the way.

But in case the rest of the boys are undecided, I’ve got a few suggestions. 

Robbie Farah is clearly a special for the Errol Flynn. Nothing would go better with his neatest-hair-in-the-world than a dapper little Errol mo.

I think he’s got the fashion sense to pull it off too. When the Wests Tigers media officer asked him about Kangaroos camp, he gave us this gem about Royce Simmons:

Roycey is always Roycey…tries to be funny but really he isn’t. We always laugh but what he doesn’t know is that we are laughing at him, not with him. He has promised me he’ll let me take him shopping while we’re over here because I’m sick of his crap polo shirts and ugly brown shoes that he always wears. He must have 10 pairs of them!

Oh, Robbie. 

I’ve also decided nothing would go better with Nathan Hindmarsh’s Russell Hammond hair than a Dennis Lillee.

And Billy Slater, aka Errol’s Newest Footy Crush … well, my spidey senses tell me he can probably grow about as much of a mo as I can. Which before you ask IS NOT VERY MUCH. God. What kind of girl do you think I am? So instead of suggesting a mo, I’m just gonna FedEx him this:

If you want to sign up, or sponsor the Kangaroos, get over to the Movember site.

FOUR NATIONS FOR WITHDRAWALS

And probably the thing that makes us happiest: THERE’S STILL FOOTY ON. Thank God, cause it means we don’t have to go straight from four days of footy a week to none. Cold turkey is a bitch. Instead we’ve got the Four Nations to ease us out of the regular season.

And if you’re like me, you watched the Four Nations games on replay on Foxtel. The way the lord intended. Unless I’m getting home at 5am … I don’t want anything to do with the sunrise. It’s uncivilised and unhealthy and I refuse to have anything to do with it. Just one of the many reasons why I’m a writer.

To be completely truthful, it was sort of hard to get up at midday, but that’s not the point.

Pic. Getty Images

The point is it was worth it. Errol favourite Brett Morris scoring on debut for the Kangaroos AND first try of the game. GO B.MOZ GO! I can say with full certainty it was our support during the season that made this possible. Some may say it was thanks to Cameron Smith’s brilliant offload and Greg Inglis’ excellent run, but I KNOW BETTER. That shit was all thanks to Errol.

Yes, he also … well, he sort of fell over and missed out on scoring another try earlier in the game:

“I was trying to set up an in and away on the fullback and I went to step off my foot and I fell down a hole. I put my foot down … tripped over and looked like an idiot. It wasn’t too good.”

Whatever. I maintain that was only because his legs are so long. Like Bambi. IT’S NOT HIS FAULT, PEOPLE.

Apparently B.Moz’s appeal is international, too, because the Sky commentators can’t get enough of him. As far as I can tell, the only time they stopped talking about Fui Fui Moi Moi and Jared Warea-Hargreaves was when they spent 10 minutes waxing lyrical about B.Moz. Isn’t he fast? Did you know he started the year in reserve grade? And he’s only only 23! And on debut!

Um, of course we know. We’re way ahead of the curve, bitches.

Till next time, kittens x

Intern John John anxiously awaited our return

HI DARLINGS!

I know, I know…we have been absent of late. We are shit and we know it. People keep harassing us asking for more blogs and are all WHY HAVEN’T YOU WRITTEN ABOUT THE GRAND FINAL YOU LAZY SHITS etc etc. We have no excuses except this one : being writers for a living now is both a blessing and a curse. Amazing because we get to do what we love and get paid for it, but shit because it kinda sucks out our creative juice and leaves us a bit well…dry.

And yes I am aware of how (untintentionally) gross that sentence was. 

Now let’s sum up what’s been happening in mah head lately

a) The Grand Final was bloody awful. And no, not because the Storm won. It was awful because I spent the whole day in deep emotional pain thinking THE BLOODY DRAGONS SHOULD BE HERE GODAMNIT THIS SUCKS. And by ‘thinking’, I mean ‘loudly announcing it to no one in particular then kicking the ground like a small child’.

I was in the middle of a booze ban but I had to down a couple of vodkas to cope. Once again, the Dragons are directly to blame for my alcohol intake. I hope Peter Doust has a special fund set up for my future liver transplant.

Also, I spent most of the day being enraged at the massive amounts of Parra bandwagoners that were milling about just begging to be punched in the face. Look I am all for new people coming to the game, and I truly want league to be really popular, but is there anything worse than tools sporting freshly bought merchandise and being Smuggy Mc Smuggersons? I’ll answer it for you: no, no there is not.

In an ironic twist, Billy Slater decides he hates overexposed fullbacks

On the bus there, we were sitting next to a girl who was wearing…wait for it…a backless bodysuit and a Parramatta scarf. Because her back is so hot but her neck is FREEZING! GO PARRA! She teamed this with skin tight jeans and strappy high heels. ARGH. We were forced to listen to her inane questions which consisted of ‘so, like, is there like, a toilet near the seats?’ and ‘do you think the Eels would be like, nervous today?’. I bet her favourite player of all timez is Jarryd Hayne. He’s sooooo hot.

And yes, if you’re wondering, I am completely aware that I am bitter and resent the fact the Eels found form when my boys lost theirs. But in my defence, Kate, my other-bestie-that-isn’t-Sassy, the biggest Parra fan in the entire universe, also hates the bandwagoners with a passion. When I sent her an sms to describe the Bodysuit Girl she said ‘murder her immediately, I will visit you in jail I promise’.

b) In a twist that is worthy of a Mexican telenovela, I have decided I that I now like Billy Slater. Yes, really. I know, I know…I’m freaked out too.  Next thing you know my evil twin is gonna appear wearing a maroon jersey and stilettos, drinking Bundy rum and yelling QUEENSLANDER in peoples faces.

I can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but I think it started with Rexona’s Greatest Athlete. Then it snowballed when our friend Edwina started to like footy. And by that I mean she started to obsess over Hot Bitch Cooper and Billy and started forcing me to realise Billy has beautiful skin and pretty eyes and oh god…he’s kinda cute. And worst of all, likeable.  I kept telling myself the only reason I was on GettyImages searching for Billy pix was for Eddie but then at the Grand Final I involuntarily yelled GO BILLY. I hate myself so much.

Kiki retreats to 1997 fashionz to ease the off season pain

c) I have literally experienced post season depression. I’ve been massively emo. For ages I couldn’t figure out why I felt like something had stolen my heart and filled my chest with sad sad cement then I realised oh my god, it’s because there’s no footy on. I am simultaneously proud and ashamed of this.

Okay now onto things that aren’t me.

So last week we got to play with the VB Kangaroos. Seriously. Somehow we managed to annoy charm the NRL’s media manager, David Taylor, into letting us come along to their media call and conduct some video interviews. Being the legend that he is, DT asked us who we wanted to speak to and he just made it all happen. Seriously kids, we just sat on our little lounge and superstahs like Billy Slater, Robbie Farah and the Mozzie twins were just brought over to us. Footy player delivery!

Anyway, since JJ and the boys had to hold down the fort at Errol HQ, we brought along our interns for the day, Loz and Butch. They found Errol by googling naked photos of David Williams, which is really quite fitting. They are basically 17 yr old versions of Sassy and myself, which I find both terrifying and delightful. Here is their take on the day (yes these interns actually exist and they wrote this for reals!).

***********************

Last Tuesday was National Nipples Day Out (thankyou Robbie ‘headlights’ Farah, ambassador of this campaign), otherwise known as the Kangaroo’s media call. We are best friends, we love football, the Sea Eagles, Georgie Rose, High School Musical, doing the hoedown throwdown whilst cooking and Big Del (Little Del goes down alright to). We DON’T love dirty dirty Queenslanders, with the exception of Billy Slater.

After 2nd helpings of Maccas breakfast, due to the fact we were an hour early, we met Kiki and Sassy and made our way into the Pullman htel, got settled and dolled ourselves up, ready for Robbie.

From the moment he walked around the corner, Robbie’s  infamous visible nipples were on full display for us (and didn’t we LOVE it). Bitch is also full of lolz, who knew?? When asked about his recent shirtless kebab photo, Robbie seemed….errrrr, slighty….confused, like he’s done it on many occasions……which is AWSOME, coz it means there are more out there. Here’s a preview -

Anyway, turns out Robbie is extremely proud of when he punched Anthony Watts waaaaaaay back in round 19. He was all ‘nobody thought I’d do it……..but I DID!’. Kinda like how kids are when they go to the toilet by themselves for the first time.

Next was Billy Slater. As we all circled around him (after Sassy elegantly kicked over a glass coke bottle that smashed everywhere), Kiki told him that this wasn’t gunna be a normal interview, he replied with (whilst looking slighty nervous) “I can see that”. Pretty AND observant, what’s not to love? Billy didn’t even seem bothered by Butch’s question of how he keeps his skin so radiant. His answer? GENETICS!! However, we did get the goss on who in the Melby (gag) team moisturizes. Cooper Cronk? OF COURSE he does. When one is a fierce bitch like Cooper Cronk, one must look after one’s skin, non?

Also, we are 99% sure that Watmough recognised us from the Manly fan days and shit like that were we have met him…. It may have also been that time when Butch walked past his car and he had ‘DAMN WHO’S A SEXY BITCH’ blaring (don’t even pretend that wasn’t aimed at me Watmough, you sly dog -B). Or, it could have just been in our heads. We have active imaginations, WHAT OF IT?

So while we waited for the Mozzies, we relaxed on the lounges. Apparently we’re relaxed interns (meaning we do nothing). Butch demonstrated how relaxed we were by reclining on the lounge in a slightly provocative manner. That magic moment was caught on tape by some lucky sport channel. Youtube it bitches!

Meanwhile, B.Moz cares not for being top point scorer of the Errol Wildcats, or the top try scoreer for the NRL, bitch just wanted to be captain of the Wildcats!

LOOK HOW UPSET HE IS! It seemed to us that J.Moz was kinda put off that B.Moz knew all about Errol but he didn’t. They also seemed quite please by the fact that they were nominated for the best legs in league, but slightly affronted that Uncy Wayne wasn’t nominated for Sexiest Coach.
 
In conclusion, footy we love you! We also kinda, maybe, probably, defssss love the people that play footy. Oh and Kiki and Sassy, we’ll intern for you anytime and we promise actual communication to the players next time, not just nervous giggles.

***********************

The girls were hilarious and adorable and we will have them intern with us again any time. We love you kittens!  Sassy and I will be writing our own post on the day, including VIDEO INTERVIEWS. Real ones! I know, I can’t believe they let us that close to the players either.

Is this the longest Errol post ever? Possibly. It should shut up you whingers that have been blog-begging for the past month anyway.

PS – MASSIVE thanks to the amazing David Taylor for hooking us up on Kangamaroooooos Day. DT, you are our new favourite person!

PPS -The Errol Awards are coming I swear to God.  We decided this year to leave them until after the season ended so we could stretch out the footy goodness as long as possible.

(photos from GettyImages)

Darlings we have been so busy! Have you been reading us on She Knows the Rules and 2DayFM? I hope so. And in the meantime all of a sudden it’s Grand Final time. We are overjoyed/heartbroken. As in … what do we do when it’s over? I’m already completely baffled about what to do this Saturday night with no Super Saturday on tv. Is this when you’re meant to go out? Like … with the young people? Cause God knows I refuse to start watching soccer. THAT WOULD JUST BE MASOCHISTIC. If that’s the alternative then I’m seriously considering taking up cross-stitch or a valium addiction or something equally thrilling and productive instead.

Sup Papua! (Pic. via News Limited / the Daily Telegraph)

So in the interest of delaying the end of footy season a lil bit longer, let’s talk about the Prime Ministers XIII. Or as Kiki keeps accidentally calling them, the PM’S XI. She cares not for the wingers! 11 players only!

We were all over this business the second it was announced, because apparently we have EXACTLY THE SAME TASTE as K.Rudd. Every time he picks this team he ends up putting in some of our fave boys who we could’ve sworn no one but us had noticed. It’s … serendipity, or something. We are totally psychically connected. Call me Kevin! We can shop together!

This year he picked out Terry ‘T.Camps’ Campese, beloved by everyone at the Errol office, especially after that time he threw a ball at Dean Young’s head. He also picked the frontrunner for Oh Errol’s Neatest Man in League award 2009: Robbie Farah.

HI ROBBIE! So neat! So efficient! So focussed! He’s like some kind of … Robbiebot. A Robbiebot in a Kangaroos training shirt. A Robbiebot … with visible nipples? Evidently they’re using the latex manufacturer to make the Robbiebot as they used to make the Batman outfits back when George Clooney played Batman.

HOLY PLASTIC NIPPLES BATMAN!

And the boys were too good for the Kumuls. They took out the game 42-18, which, to be honest, I’d be pretty damn happy with. The PNG boys are kinda badass. Apparently they’re also a bit prone to a spear tackle, and I can only assume they’re glad they didn’t injure anyone cause we Errol girls can be terrifying when someone messes with one of our Errol boyz.

Luckily, Dimples Dugan came home with his dimples in tact.

Just one teeny tiny problem. Um …. so while the game was going on, they kind of … well, this is awkward. How do you say this, exactly? PNG lost some prisoners. Happens all the time right? A few wardens go on strike, 54 inmates cut a hole in the fence, and all of a sudden they get away because the police are busy guarding a footy match. Whatever. COULD HAPPEN TO ANYONE. Prisoners really wanted to go to the game too, kk?

Everyone in this picture loves footy.

And after captaining the team last year, the awesome that is Nathan Hindmarsh was left out of the PM’s squad. Mainly, this is probably because he has to, you know, play a Grand Final. But something tells me he’s pretty happy to stay in Sydney and chill with his boys. Hindy be pimpinnn.

And yes, by ‘his boys’, I mean Matt Keating and Feleti Mateo. NO, NOT YOU LUKE BURT! YOU STAY OVER THERE IN THE CORNER ALONE. I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE A BOO BOO.

Plus it means Hindy gets to enjoy the rampant Parra fever that’s gripped Sydney at the moment.

THE HAYNE TRAIN WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS.
Pic. Justin Lloyd.

Don’t people love a bandwagon? If I was a little bit kinder, I might describe it the way the Herald Sun did:

Astounded by the rush of support from previously latent fans, Parramatta officials are still devising a plan to accommodate an expected throng of 20,000 partygoers should they complete a fairytale premiership.

CEO Paul Osborne is hoping to present the team to the faithful at Parramatta Stadium, which has seating for 22,000 and is capable of hosting thousands more on-field.

PREVIOUSLY LATENT FANS. What a great phrase for all those incredibly annoying people on facebook who haven’t uttered a WORD about footy all year now littering my feed with 85 updates on how they are sooooo happy Parra are in the finals. I’m glad you’re supporting league and all but YOUR STATUS UPDATES ARE ANNOYING. STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.

Pic. Gary Graham

Obviously this doesn’t apply if you are this guy, from the Daily Telegraph website, who has turned his Holden Commodore into a Parra Eels tribute. That is fucking amazing and he can do whatever he likes, even if that involves multiple annoying status updates.

Meanwhile down in Melbourne – as far as I can tell – the Storm threw an open training session so that Melbourne fans from far and wide could come and meet Billy Slater. That’s all that happened, right?

He’s like …. the people’s princess. He’s totally the Princess Di of footy. They love him! Even I have a weird fondness for Billy Slater and we all know that I hate everyone. What can I say? He won me over a) with his lovely skin and b) when everyone hated him for that brief period back in 2008. I am contrary like that.

Father Bob baptises Billy with holy water in a Gatorade bottle. Even God loves Billy Slater!

I can’t wait till Billy starts opening hospital cancer wards and arriving at Gala events in show-stopping one shouldered blue gowns.

Then, of course, there’s the other reason Hindy needed to stay in town: Grand Final breakfast. Also known as A Great Day for Sassy. I’ve already discussed how much I love seeing a footy player in a suit. I’ve said it before but it’s mesmerising. There’s something delightful about seeing someone look so uncomfortable … you know?

Exhibit A: buttons don’t usually go there, right?

Pic. Phil Hillyard

And this year Hindy made the whole thing even more enjoyable with the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. (He’s available for birthdays/functions/corporate retreats if you’re wondering. Deposit non-refundable).

Pic. Phil Hillyard

According to Hindy:

“I think Haynesy wrote in Cosmopolitan magazine that his body is a blessing,” said Hindmarsh at the NRL grand final breakfast on Thursday.

“That is enough motivation for me to try harder on the field.”

And doesn’t Ben Smith love it? He’s an easy laugh, like us. Heart.

Meanwhile Dan Dan Mortimer was apparently writing during the brekkie, and now thanks to Friday’s Daily Telegraph, we know that it is. (Hint: it’s not, as I suspected, a note reading DO YOU WANT TO SKIP DOUBLE P.E. THIS AFTERNOON? with two little ticky-boxes marked ‘yes’ and ’no … cause I’M A LOSER’. 

But the Eels of 2009 looked as though they were headed for a Sunday afternoon barbecue as players joked and giggled their way through yesterday’s Grand Final Breakfast at Darling Harbour’s Convention Centre.

Nathan Hindmarsh pulled faces at the 650-strong audience and laughed about his loose shorts, Jarryd Hayne made gags about Hindmarsh, Fuifui Moimoi smiled as he hid from Fox Sports’ cameras, while Daniel Mortimer wrote a note, which Hindmarsh stole and gave to coach Daniel Anderson.

“Yes, you can have some water, Daniel,” Anderson said.

Don’t you love it? I love it.

In fact, the only person I can think of who loves GF breakfast more than I do is Fui Fui Moi Moi. Just look at him, so full of love!

Pic. Phil Hillyard

Apparently also not really able to tie a tie, but conveniently there’s no tie in a footy uniform, is there? Also BET FELETI TOTALLY LOVES DOING IT. Makes him feel needed.

Pic. Phil Hillyard

Which brings us to tips. You already know who we want to win (or you should know if you’ve been reading She Knows the Rules).

But we mean actual tips. Shit we’d put money on.

Kiki says the Storm. She says they’ve got too much finals experience, they’re soming off the motivation of a stinging lost in last year’s GF, and also, they are pure evil. Her reasoning is that you don’t get a happy ending two years in a row.

I say Parra. And I say this with full disclosure that I’m tipping with my heart, not my head. Parra are – like us – delightfully inconsistent. But like us, sometimes the battlers come out on top. I think that Parramatta are motivated and feeling blessed enough by the Gods and the NRL judiciary to go into the game with enough confidence to throw the ball around and really freak Melbourne out. And with a style of attack that’s only a few weeks old, I think Melbourne might crack.

Lozzy refuses to put in a tip and explanation because she just started a swishy new job yesterday and is “so compeltely fucking exhausted” from being nice to strangers/trying to find the bathroom/getting public transport/dealing with IT that she cannot even talk.

In the meantime, email me with enquiries for the Nathan Hindmarsh comedy hour. I take a 10% commission. Hindy’s totally cool with it.

JOYFUL NEWS, KITTENS! And not just the normal joyous they-wrote-a-post news. We have some sweet sweet loot to show off.

As you may or may not have realised, the Titans have discovered the wonder that is twitter, and hooked up the awesome tattooed Mat Rogers with his own twitter account. And can we just say … GOOD CHOICE TITANS. Because Mat the rat’s introduced a semi-regular shirtless guessing contest, where he posts headless torso shots of his teammates and internet creeps like us win sweet prizes.

Well … IT ARRIVED. In a special little tube with M. Rogers on the back. The thought of the Titans five eighth and his giant tattooed arms rocking up at a post office in the Goldy and demanding a protective tube for a signed Titans poster is straight up amazing. THANKS MAT!

We especially love that it’s been photoshopped so that the Titans are both on Gold Coast beach …. AND several kilometres away from the Gold Coast skyline with a stretch of sea in between. We just wish iPhones took detailed enough pics so that you could see Kevin Gordon’s amazing mullet in the bottom left corner. Maybe we’ll bring it to the errol Chrissie party so you can all luxuriate in it’s brilliance in person … yes? Deal.

In other news Friends star Matthew Perry Jason Taylor has officially been booted from the bunnies for the recent, um, I’m rapidly running out of euphemisms for off-field indiscretions. Let’s just call it … unpleasantness, the way Southerners do when they talk about the Civil War.

Apparently the decision to cut him loose was kinda tricky though, so they made it at a super-top-secret bigshot lockdown powwow at Russell Crowe’s central coast compound. Cause you can’t make these kinda decisions over a coffee at Bill & Toni’s … sometimes you just need a charter flight and an over night stay at Nana Glen.

Look at the boys arriving at the air strip! It’s so … Untouchables. Or President Clinton sitting down by the ping pong table at Camp David with Yasser Arafat and Ehud Barak trying to broker a Middle East peace deal over a game of singles.

Except instead of dealing with decades of ethnic and religious conflict, it’s about Jason Taylor doing (allegedly) drunk Kung Fu.

We also like to think that Rusty adds a bit more flair to the Crowe compound than they have at Camp David. Bet when you arrive at the Nana Glen gates you get a little gift bag, complete with a leather jacket with your name and team logo on the back and an awesome Rabbitohs baseball cap. There’s probably a rabbit-shaped helipad behind the stables, too. And when you get home you get a little note on customised red and green stationery that’s just signed ” …. RUSSELL.”

Just Russell! Like Cher.

While we’re on the topic of fierce bitches … SUP GEORGE ROSE!

We spotted our favourite dynamo with the Kangaroos training squad chilling at the pool the other day. To be completely honest, we thought that with the demise of Shane Warne, the days had long passed when a man carrying a little extra bulk could represent his nation at an elite level in his chosen sport. And we were DEVASTATED. As ladies who love nothing more than a sausage roll and/or a fatlete, we were pretty damn sad. We like to think if you don’t have to be buff to be a blogger, why do you have to be all Matt Cooper-ripped to play sport? Hmmmmm? BODY FASCISTS.

My friends, we were wrong. Gorgeous George (who, by the way, is totally a hit on Twitter. Almost everyone on our followers list is completely enamoured of him) proved us wrong. He’s a wrecking ball of a forward and he cares not for diets.

Look how relaxed he looks! Our man George is so ready for this tour bitches.

Dave Williams, on the other hand, looks like he’s at what Tim Sheens calls “wrist-cutting situation”. WHY SO SAD DAVEY?

All the other Kangaroos are busy leaping in the pool and bonding like fishes, but not Dave.

IS IT THE BEARD? That may just be the face of a man who is realising that without a giant beard, he’s not a wolfman (yeuch) anymore. He’s just. a. man. It may also be the face of a man who has frequent and intense State of Origin flashback nightmares. Who can say? Either way, Davey’s still our Errol patron saint and we don’t like seeing our mans sad.

STOP TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THE HELL YOUR GOGGLES ARE AND COMFORT THE MAN, GIDLEY!

Apparently they don’t have swimming pools in Newcastle, cause Chris Houston looks fucking baffled, too. I can’t believe that there can be a city that has multiple Henny Penny outlets but whose residents can’t use swimming goggles … or remember to take their t shirts off before swimming. Oh, Newie.

Ricky Stuart’s coaching loss is also our eyes’ pervy gain cause the new Kangaroos coach is that dapper old man Tim Sheens. I’m not kidding. We love his swagger. One afternoon at Leichhardt he sauntered past in his rockin leather jacket and Kiki almost fell off her chair.

In conclusion: yes we have awesome taste.

In case you’re wondering: yes we WILL be at the double-header at Leichhardt this weekend … come say hi Mr. Sheens.

Kangaroo image credits: Getty Images

Darlings, have you missed us? I know, I know, it’s been ages. I’M SORRY. It turns out that staying up all night watching the Ashes so we can blog for Cricket Australia, and spending your Saturdays whipping up columns for NSWRL really takes up a girl’s time.

But Sassy’s back now so you can stop biting your nails and weeping and just relax. Yes, yes, I promise I will never leave you again. Seriously, let go of my leg … except you Kevin Gordon. You can stay right there. As you were mister!

And now I’ve got my creepy quota in for the day, let’s talk footy. Everyone’s lost their damn minds talking about Karmichael Hunt switching to AFL. Which, to be completely honest, confuses me. Confuses me in the sense that …. I just don’t care. I feel like I’m missing something. I’m not shocked, cause didn’t he already switch to Union. Or did I make that up? Whatever. Let’s just say Karmichael is a straight-up code whore. And I’m not even angry! I kinda understand why someone would switch to AFL. They do have those adorable little sleeveless tops, plus from what I hear, spring rolls at the ground. Sounds pretty sweet to me. Mmmmm …. spring roll. All you have to give up is the joy of playing the greatest code in existence (for explanation, please see replay of Monday’s Tigers vs Sea Eagles game).

Pic. Glen McCurtayne

Best of all: HE’S A QUEENSLANDER. Buh-bye K.Hunt! Take the rest of the maroons with ya, why don’t ya? In fact the only downside of K.Hunt jumping ship is that, when Channel 9 broadcast Broncos games, we now no longer have the delightful possibility that Ray Warren will accidentally call him ‘Kunt’ again. Man, that was sweet.

But this week we realised he might’ve inspired some other league boys to start looking at their options. For one thing, Robbie Farah has a brand new career as a Hot Bitch. When did this happen? Seriously, when? We always adored Robbie for his Serious Thoughtful Comments at press conferences. Now we also adore him for his awesome new beard, and the fact that when he breathes in you can see his six pack through his jersey.

Apparently Robbie does not often indulge in a Robbie Farah kebab.

Terry Campese is in intense training for the T.Camps Michael Jackson tribute hour, hitting the road in the off-season 2009.

Not to mention that every time we turn on the tv we see another NRL player out there pimping out their skillset and trying new things. After his awesome performance on the weekend against the Knights I almost choked on my healthy healthy dinner when I saw Shaun Kenny-Dowall on Sports Tonight rocking out in the pool at swim school.

NO DARLING NO! YOU PLAYED SO WELL!

The way the Roosters season is going right now, if SKD leaves me to join the New Zealand Silver Waterfern swim team or whatever the fuck they’re called for the Commonwealth games in 2010, I will actually end up rocking in the corner in the foetal position. One win does not make a summer, or whatever that expression is. Although a few more losses from the Sharkies should keep us away from the wooden spoon, and, oh, how I cling to that.

Although I do think it would be pretty sweet if Beau Ryan passes his anatomy course and takes up a new career as an Osteopath. I find him oddly …. comforting. I would totally trust him with my spinal health. Although maybe not so much if he decides to become a plastic surgeon or something, because bitch is having troubles with some of the basic concepts of the torsal region.

So, the rib bones connected to the …. boob bone.

He seems to be enjoying the anatomy stuff a lot more than he enjoyed his film course, anyway.

Beau cares not for Peter Jackson fantasy epics. AND THAT ARAGORN IS A DOUCHEBAG.

As for Scotty Prince, I have absolutely no fucking idea what he is doing in an underwater plastic capsule, with BEN ROSS of all people, looking at crocodiles. But here ya go, just because Prince Scotty the Caramel is the reigning Oh Errol snuggliest man in league, and that deserves a run:

Meanwhile before my proud and noble Chooks beat them over the weekend, the Knights were already down a few superstars. I was nestled in the couch last week watching them have their asses handed to them by Manly when all of a sudden the camera flashed to Jarrod Mullen and Chris Houston on the sideline, looking … HOLD ON A SECOND. WHY SO HAPPY BOYS?

More importantly, why is Jarrod Mullen making the EXACT FACE I make when I fancy someone and am busy trying to look cute while I laugh at their jokes, instead of cackling and slapping my knee like I normally do when I find something hilarious. J.Mull, you are TOTALLY FLIRTING. Next thing you know he’ll be sitting sideways on his chair and leaning in close to talk to Houston in preparation for a pash.

(Just by the way, hi Ben Cross in the background! Sorry about that time at State of Origin when I thought you were Danny Nutley).

You know what this means, right? Well, for one thing, Kiki is more jealous than words can express. She loves a bit of Chris Houston’s action. She always tells me so. I think it’s the ye olde blacksmith vibe that gets her. But more importantly, Danny Wicks is gonna be PISSED. He is so not gonna stand for someone making the moves on his mans. Not when they’re so involved: those two share a team, a changeroom, a home, AND a vespa. They are committed.

Oh man, just quietly that video never EVER gets old. Who would have thought two forwards riding a scooter together would be so lolz-inducing?

I feel like either one of Kiki and Danny Wicks might jump out of the bushes and try and ambush J.Mull at any time. My advice to him is to carry a bacon sandwich with him wherever he goes. That would distract either of them. Just chuck it and run like a robber trying to get past a Rottweiler.

J.Mull and Houston have nothing on the greatest love story of the 09 league season though, which everyone knows is a little something called Uncle Wayne and Hot Bitch.

Remember them?

How could you forget? He can hardly wait to hold him, feel his arms around him. What was my point?

Oh yeah, check out who popped up in the box (heh, box) at the Dragons vs Storm extravaganza at Kogarah.

FLOSSY NIGHTINGALE IS THAT YOU? Look at him all up in the coaches box, makin eyes at Uncle Wayne, not even looking at the big flashing talkie box that shows you the game. It’s some First Wives’ Club shit happening up in there … leaving one man for a younger model. Hot Bitch Cooper will not be pleased.

Luckily, I bet he looks fierce in some white pants.

Thanks as always to the gorgeous Cronkster and everyone’s favourite blog, Hot Aussie Footy Players Shirtless for the caps.

Do you know what makes a girl hideously depressed? Being a Roosters fan in 2009.

Do you know what brings a girl back from the brink of suicide? That’s right, kittens: THE DRAGONS. At heart, I will always, always be a Chookies fan. That’s just how I roll, yo. I am loyal for life.

But you know things are bad when the club actually writes to you to apologise for the drunkenness and scandals. I opened the mail and it was all Oh Hay Sassy, Soz for being drunks! Also for the number 2 incident and the drink driving and whatnot. You understand, right? Did we mention we do good things in the community?

I mean, I appreciate it, but dammmmn that was bleak to read. Also, usually I’m the one doing the apologising for inappropriate behaviour, so it was kinda unnerving on multiple levels.

And amongst the shit going down right now at my club – and yes, in this case, literally shit – it’s nice to have some happytimes. I totally have a soft spot for the Dragons. I’m not even kidding that on the weekend I got back from Melbourne and stood at Sydney Airport baggage carousel three for about thirty minutes watching the Drags play the Sea Eagles. My lil suitcase went past deadset four times before I twigged.

How can you resist St. George? They are hands down the happiest team in the league.

… oh, shucks.

IT’S TRUE. And who sums em up better than Flossy Nightingale?

Who’s a good boy then?

Yes you are the best boy.

You heard it here first, kids: THE LABRADOR OF LEAGUE.

And if that wasn’t enough, the boys are blessed with the awesome that is Wendell Sailor. I wanna say if he retires next year I’ll be devastated and unable to live without the sight of him steamrolling over smaller men to smash in tries in the right-hand corner … but it’s totally a lie. As long as his head is somewhere on Channel 9, I’m cool with it.

You know he’ll sneak into the producer’s box and just replay montages he made himself of ‘DELL’S GREATEST MOMENTS’ set to Mr. Wendell, Beat It or Earth Wind & Fire’s greatest hits (depending on his mood). I bet they’re all interspersed with star-wipe graphics too. I like to think Dell is quite nifty on the PC video-editing.

Pic. Mark Evans

Apparently he didn’t want to let the crowd down after his moonwalking efforts, so this week he upped his game and posed with the Dragon mascot while Tiny Dancer Jamie Soward snapped his picture on a footy camera. Oh, those two. I especially enjoy that they now have secret handshakes like kids in the playground.

I’m only sooky that my stand-in joy got ruined by allegations that Tiny Dancer bit Matt Ballin in a tackle. And using all my lawerly university training I’m gonna stand up right now and say, if he did, do you blame him? Have you SEEN Matt Ballin? I defy any man or woman to look me in the face and tell me they could resist going the nibble on Bal’s arm if it got thrust in your face. Could you? Really?

NOT GUILTY. I REST MY CASE.

Apparently I’m not the only one who has a special fondness for the Dragons. Even though we are bandits for our footy, we have a lot of gorgeous friends who, well …they don’t give a shit. Instead, when they realise footy season starts in March, they ask things like ‘am I gonna lose you for the next 26 weekends?’ (The answer is yes).

But sometimes we manage to win them over the dark side. And one of our friends has officially drunk the footy kool-aid. She watched the Dragons one night … and bitch is hooked. Her fave player? One Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper. The other night she actually smsed me to tell me she thinks he is ‘GLORIOUS’.

What can I say? She’s a perceptive lady. A perceptive lady … who doesn’t even like men. Hot Bitch has officially reached the point where he has both heterosexual men and homosexual women questioning their sexual orientation. Shit is RIDICULOUS.

(Not literally shit this time. Just in case you were wondering.)

Caps thanks to the fierce Cronkster. THANKS DARLIN!

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!