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post-weekend intern news

September 15th, 2008

It’s no secret that we love our Errol interns.  Making sure the SS Errol stays on course is a complicated business, and the boys are all vital members of our team (hehe, members).  So we think it’s only fair to keep you abreast (breast!) of all the important developments in the world of the Errol interns.

First of all, we should let you know that Intern Brownie won’t be in today, so please direct all calls to Work Experience Boy Lachie.  Poor Brownie seems to be taking the Dragons’ weekend loss to the Sea Eagles pretty hard.  Being a trouper he made it into the office this morning, but after he had trouble opening a box of paperclips and started weeping into his breakfast margarita we took pity and gave him a mental health day. There was also some awkward tension between Brownie and Manly Fan Lozzy that was making everyone uncomfortable – but in John John’s case that’s because he kept pulling his undies up his bum in an attempt to lighten the mood.

pic: flickr

We would also like to let Mr. and Mrs. Coote know that yes, Lachie did forget his TravelPass today, but fear not – we have already made a quick call to Petero Civoneciva and he’s agreed to pop by this afternoon and give Lachie a lift home.  No, he won’t take him to McDonalds.

In other immensely important intern news, Lachie was tidying up Errol HQ on Friday when he stumbled upon John John’s original Gods Of Football Benefits of ‘Sailing’ draft. It seems John John was misinformed as to what sort of activity he was supposed to be discussing the benefits of. A simple misunderstanding, or a blatant attempt to manipulate our Intern? We just don’t know.

But since John John arrived at the office in a pair of glassless spectacles and worked long and hard at the compy on this project, only to have the GOF bigwigs contort his smarts to fit their own agenda, we thought we’d get in touch with our humanitarian side and publish the original. He can thank us later with his flexibility and muscle endurance.

Health Benefits of Sexytimes

There are many health and fitness benefits of sexing that really help me with my overall fitness for Footy. Not only is sexing a great way to get active while having fun with mates on the water, it is also great for your aerobic fitness, cardiovascular fitness, anaerobic capacity and muscular strength. I also find it’s great for muscle endurance, flexibility and agility!

Building Muscle Strength and Endurance

Building muscle strength and endurance are some of the key outcomes of sexing that are really beneficial for my football performance. There are a number of repetitive movements in sexing which help you build the muscular endurance and strength needed to see you through an 80 minute game.

Flexibility and Agility

Flexibility and agility are also part of the health benefits of sexing. Flexibility exercises are really important to me as a footballer as they increase the range of movement of the joints and therefore prevent injury during training and competition by ensuring that the muscle does not become too stretched, causing it to tear. Poor flexibility also hinders speed which I really need as a winger. If you have poor flexibility and endurance then your muscles have to work harder to overcome resistance.

We knew JJ was flexible, but we had no idea he could be this eloquent. What a bag of (dick) tricks he has.

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meet the nominees: best hair in league 2008

September 4th, 2008

No fancy explanations needed here, surely.  This week we’re giving you the run down on the nominees for the Des Hasler award for best hair in league.

Some boys in league have deadset shocking hair.  Most have almost no hair, which saddens my heart.  What can I say? I just kinda love a man with a good head of hair. It might have something to do with my childhood crush on John Bender

These boys have Good Hair.  Enough said.

NATHAN HINDMARSH

pic: Phil Hearne / www.leaguehq.com.au

Truthfully, we have long been admirers of Hindy’s special brand of bedhead.  And if he wasn’t so completely peverse and determined to try and counteract his natural awesomeness, he would win the Des Hasler with his eyes closed every year.  But apparently Nathan enjoys looking like Julius Caesar, or being ridiculed in the street, or Just Plain Hates getting awards, because the number of fucking terrible haircuts he has given himself is staggering.

Consider, if you will:  on the left, we have Hindy au natural, letting the hair run free.  On the right, freshly-shorn Hindy.

I understand if you actually have never thought about this before, because usually when Hindy is on the field he has half his arse hanging out of his shorts and that tends to divert attention from his head somewhat, but DO YOU SEE?  DO YOU SEE HOW HE TRIES TO UNDO HIS OWN AWESOME?  Sigh.

He’s busy being a Cueball when he could be Russell Hammond:

If he can just manage not to pick up the scissors in the next few weeks, Nathan could have this award in the bag.

MATTHEW BELL 

pic: Getty Images

Matthew Bell is another occasional sufferer of Hindmarsh Syndrome.  Naturally blessed with an amazing head of voluminous hair, the perfect wave, and natural blond highlights, just a few weeks ago he broke our collective hearts with a particularly unfortunate trip to the barber.  I think it has a … fringe.

If that thing doesn’t grow out in the next few weeks he doesn’t have a chance.  Genetics can only get you so far, Matty baby.

DAINE LAURIE

pic: Getty Images

This was always going to happen.  From the moment he bitchslapped his way into our hearts, Daine Laurie was always going to be nominated for something.  Sure he’s a little fiesty, but he’s also FABULOUS.  Look at those dreadlocks fly! 

RUBEN WIKI

pic: Getty Images

The Warriors efforts this Beardgust have made Ruben Wiki’s facial hair famous, but don’t let it distract you from that adorable mop o curly hair.  Ruben has a touch of the Soul Glo … and we like it.

DAVID WILLIAMS

Davey honey, did you think we had forgotten you?  Not a chance.  Oh Errol Patron Saint Davey Williams has been a gun in the hair stakes all year.  We’re not even talking about the gold-prospecting beard, although god knows we love that too. 

*strokes Davey’s beard*

That is some fuck-off lustrous hair.  Amazing.  Bitch may be a worthy heir to Dessy himself.  It makes you have to fight the urge to plait barley into it and lay in the California sun playing Mamas and Papas songs and drinking Sangria.

What was my point?  Oh yes.  We are all in love with his liony mane.

Provided Intern Brownie doesn’t get to all the boys with his clippers before the end of the season, it is shaping up as a close race for the coveted Des Hasler.

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footy observations: vun, two, three

September 2nd, 2008

Gather round little vuns!  Footy observations time!  Only a short one this week as we have been super busy planning Intern Brownie’s farewell party.  So many novelty Brownie wigs to buy, so many balloons to blow up, so many arguments about what to engrave on the back of his farewell gold watch.

Plus since John John was planning to secretly change the engraving to a pornographic sketch, we had to send little Lachie to the jewellers instead and he mixed up his lefts and rights again and ended up lost for a whole afternoon.  Long story. (Don’t worry we eventually found him safe asleep in one of the puppy cases at Pets Paradise).

Anyway, let’s dive in.

VUN!


abc.net.au file pic

Not only will the Roosters be taking on the St George Dragons next week in the last round of the regular footy season – meaning there may well also be a domestic hetero-life-partner dispute between Kiki and me – but Anthony ‘the Count’ Minichiello has decided to up the drama by making his long-awaited return to the Roosters side.

Mini!  I missed you so!  It’s been two months since he was last on the field, due to his back of glass, and I like the sense of occasion he’s brought to his return to the game.  Saving it up until the final week of competition, for a game that will determine whether the Roosters will finish in the top four of the competition, against the team that beat them last time the two teams played at the footy stadium.  Oooh the drama.

I think someone’s been taking advice from Terry Biviano.  I will be in no way surprised if he enters the field on a white horse wearing nothing but his cape and a pair of stilettos.  Girl knows her drama like she knows her ghd (and that is HOW).

Mainly I just hope that Mini isn’t injured again this Friday night, and especially not by one of the Dragons.  Kiki and I are watching the game from the members’ stand instead of The Cheap Seats (like we usually do), so we have promised to be on our absolute best behaviour and try not to spill anything or break anything or embarass ourselves in public, and that kind of shit just might bring us to blows.

TWO!

screencap: leaguehq.com.au

Um … how is it possible that two men are going before the judiciary this week for spitting?  Two!  In the same week!  When has anyone been called up for spitting before ever?  Never, as far as I remember.*  Admittedly too much television and loud music and vodka has destroyed most of my long-term memory cells, but I maintain that this is a very odd turn of events.

But oh yes, beardy Wade McKinnon of the Warriors and Matt Hilder from the Knights are both in trouble for gettin their spit all up in peoplez faces.

And sure, maybe they did.  But what I wanna know is how exactly the judiciary decides.  How do you know where someone is spitting?  Spit aim is notoriously bad, so how do you decide what they were spit-aiming for?  Did they hit the official?  Did they hit Anthony Quinn?  Does that make a difference?  If there’s spit-trauma do they get a sterner punishment?  What if Anthony Quinn was being a bit of a wanker and totally deserved it?  (I love him but it’s entirely possible).  What if it was the same touchie who made the ridiculous Issac Luke 40-20 call?  Was there a second spitter?  Behind the bushes, on the gravelly road?  SO MANY QUESTIONS.

And more importantly, will that League HQ screencap be an exhibit in the hearing?  God I hope so.  I love how you can actually see the spit flying like a comet from his mouth.  I also hope there’s a whole video of the spit-incidents with a spotlight digitally added and an NRL official with a wooden pointer walking the panel through it moment by moment, tracing the path of the loogie and using trigonometry to thusly determine the target at which the spittle was aimed.

THAT IS ONE MAGIC LOOGIE.

THREE!


leaguehq.com.au

And making up the third bad boy of this post: Steve ‘Ray Warren’s Man’ Matai is also being sent to the Principal’s office.  This time for a high tackle, not for on-field hocking, if you were wondering.

Now I like to think I am in touch with the people of Errol, and I am sensing that the people don’t really care about that.  Instead, our readers look to Errol for the important developments in league, the major issues.  Issues like Steve Matai’s hair.

I like to think being in a professional football team is kinda like prison, and in all those hours when Des Hasler is giving them the silent treatment again and the boys have no pressing appointments to train or be weighed or eat protein bars or sit in ice baths they just loll around the Manly clubhouse plotting their escapes and braiding each other’s hair.

And they’re so creative!  Bless their little hearts.  I especially like this one with the perpendicular row down the middle.  Very … dinosaur, non?  I can’t wait till they get together to do Dave Williams’.  GOOD LUCK WITH THE BEARD, GUYS!

* It was in 2005, according to the Herald.

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meet the nominees: fattest man in league 2008

August 28th, 2008

Fattest man in league has caused quite the controversy this year in the Errol office. There have been disputes, tantrums, a little a bit of name-calling, and at one point I think Jessica made Intern Brownie cry.

You see this is one of the foundation Oh Errol awards – it’s been around since the very beginning. It is to the Errols what the marathon is to the Olympics; what Farrah Fawcett is to Charlie’s Angels. It just doesn’t feel like the Errols without it.

But times have changed. Rule progression, limited interchanges and faster, stronger players have meant that the fat man is pretty much a thing of the past in Rugby League, and finding ‘fattest man in league’ candidates is a question of relatives. This year it came down (for most of the nominees) to just a kilo or two.

We might as well be trying to find the skinniest man in league, the sportiest man in league, or the guy who likes footy the most. Cause, well, they’re all professional football players, which makes the scope of these things fairly limited. Duh.

Intern Brownie argued that’s enough of a reason to scrap it, because we don’t want to run the risk of giving any players weight complexes. Men can have body dysmorphia too!

Kiki said it was all too hard then ate a cheeseburger and had a nap. Lozzy worries that it will hurt someone’s feelings.  Me, I’m a traditionalist.

Jessica suggested it was an inappropriate reduction of a person’s qualities to nothing but their mere physical being. Then she remembered that she loves a big man and wouldn’t stop pestering me about when the pics would be up.  John John says his nickname is Hotdog.  That’s not helping, John John honey.

In the end we all got sufficiently drunk to decide the award stays, but it stays with a disclaimer:

None of you are objectively fat. You’re all lovely. But that extra kilo makes you extra awesome and extra huggable, and we think that’s worth an award.

Now let’s get to it.

JARRAD HICKEY


Gregg Porteous / foxsports.com.au

One of the very few Bulldogs left standing in 2008, we wish we could give Jarrad-with-an-A an award just for still being upright.  After all, the doggies probably need all the encouragement they can get.

We wonder if, perhaps, the fact that Jarrad-with-an-A is a robust man has made him able to recover from his rib injury and withstand the rigours of football better than his slighter teammates.  We like to think it has.  That’s why I’m making a saucepan of Easy Mac as we speak: IT’LL MAKE ME STRONG.  Mmmm Easy Mac.

ADAM CUTHBERTSON


Getty Images

Adam was a difficult inclusion in this list, I’m not gonna lie.   You’ll be shocked, I’m sure, to find out we don’t have the clout to force every man in the NRL onto the scales to work out the nominees – apparently you can’t even chase sportsmen with callipers now without being frowned upon – so we have to do the best we can with our eyeballs.

By our eyeballations, either Adam is a delightfully hearty and cuddlable man, or the rest of Manly are just as freakishly toned and fat-free as Personal Trainer and real-life GI Joe doll Matt Ballin.  Either way, Cuthbertson’s in.

[note – I’m sorry to all the Manly fans who I’m sure think that George Rose has been unfairly excluded from this category, but sadly he didn’t hit our minimum number of first grade games threshold.  Next year, Georgie!]

STEVE SOUTHERN

Not just a ranga, but a cuddly one.  WIN-WIN-WIN for you Steve.  But can a man take out two awards?  Stay tuned, babies.

DANNY WICKS


Simone de Peak / leaguehq.com.au

Oh, Danny Wicks.  In my whole life, it’s possible that there is nothing I have enjoyed more than watching a news story featuring footage of Danny Wicks and his hetero-life-mate and fellow Newcastle forward Chris Houston scooting home from footy practice to their share-house on Danny’s vespa.

(Occasional Errol-er Joker’s Wild enjoys referring to the Vespa in question as a metal g-string, but he’s a Newcastle supporter, so he can get away with that kind of thing.  Won’t hear any cheap jokes like that from us).

As Trinny and Susannah would say, Wicksy is an apple, and no doubt the issue of body shapes versus actual body mass will be a hot topic in this year’s Errol judging room.  DO YOU GET MORE POINTS IF YOUR EXTRA WEIGHT IS LOCALISED?

It’s a delicate science, I tell you, a delicate science.

MARK ‘PIGGY’ RIDELL

Grandstand / abc.net.au

I know what you’re thinking at this precise moment: HIS NICKNAME IS PIGGY, HOW CAN HE POSSIBLY LOSE?  But just as on the field, there are some players with a Hindmarsh-esque consistency and reliability of play, and some with a Gasnier-eque propensity for flashes of brilliance and occasional uselessness, some of the stocky men in league are more reliable than others.

After an off-season where his conversion to Bourbon saw him shedding kilos apace, Piggy has lifted his game, and his calorie intake, to bounce back into contention for this award.  I would try and explain to you exactly how much weight this involved but THEY STILL WON’T LET ME WEIGH ALL THE PLAYERS.  Suffice to say he seems to enjoy a yo-yo diet.  He is the Bridget Jones of league.

And with a month or two still to go before the footy season officially wraps up, this category remains an open race.  Anything could happen, kittens!

[In other news, any relevant tips of Danny Wicks hitting up Henny Penny, Mark Riddell buying a slab of carb-filled beer, etc, that might help our decision-making process are more than welcome: errol@oherrol.com]

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oh errol personnel update

August 25th, 2008

It’s not really a surprise that following his arrest, overnight incarceration, bail, and allegations of domestic violence and lying to police, we’ve had to stand down Intern Greg Bird indefinitely.

It’s true that we’ll miss his around-the-office initiatives, like Meat Pie Monday (also Meat Pie Tues-Fri), and obviously if it turns out the allegations are incorrect we’ll be happy to have him back.  But we are also firmly opposed to violence of the non-fictional variety, and to violence against women in particular.

We’re all quite tacken aback, to be honest, and we don’t want to mess around or send mixed messages about this kind of stuff.  And we know you don’t really want to read it anyway.  We have no idea what happened and blogging about it would just be tacky.

So if you’re looking for any more Greg Bird info, we’re sorry but we’re not going to be able to give you any until at least the 8th of October (when he’s due in court).  Yes we love a bit of harmless gossip, but we’re not in the business of rustling up defamation suits, so we’re leaving all the allegations and the scandal well alone.

We are happy to announce though, that after John John made himself a Captain’s hat from a sheet of newspaper and pulled us all in for a group rendition of ‘Love will Keep us Together’, he accepted a promotion to an internship.

We’re also super excited that little Lachlan Coote – who, sadly, has quite a lot of time on his hands at the moment – accepted our offer of a regular work experience gig.

Well, to be exact, he said he’d have to ask his mum and dad, but we’re taking that as a yes.

And because when it rains it pours – the sad day is coming when we have to say goodbye to our beloved Intern Brownie.  He stopped non-speaks with me long enough today to tell us all he’s leaving us to put all his efforts into the Dragons’ finals campaign and into packing up all his favourite knitted sweaters for his move to the UK.

In his place, we have Reni Maitua joining us as an intern and starting next week.  He’s agreed in his contract to cease all gang-related activity and we think he’ll come through.  Stay tuned to see the new interns in action.

Sending lots of love, and all of our thoughts to Kate Milligan.

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weekend footy observations: the shallow kind*

August 25th, 2008

Well Intern Brownie and I are officially on non-speaks. Again. I hate when we have our little tiffs.

After the undignified thrashing that Intern Greg Bird and his sharks gave my Roosters on friday night (20-0! Kill me now!), compared with the Dragons 34-6 win over the Warriors, Intern Brownie has been unbearable. Dancing around the office celebrating his team’s finals chances, singing ‘Saved by the Dell’ and occasionally making sad little chicken noises.

NOBODY LIKES A GLOATER, BROWNIE.

And because I can’t blame my boys, or Saint Freddy (even though he seems to want to blame himself) I’ve become very upset with Intern Brownie.

It’s blindingly obvious by now that the Roosters have some serious psychological issues going on. I know they can win games, they just can’t manage to want to win games. It’s ripping my heart out to watch. Which is why I can’t blame them, you know? Those kids have enough to deal with. My message to the boys is just forget about the loss and concentrate on reciting the affirmations your therapist gave you:

I AM WORTHY OF LOVE AND ADMIRATION.

I HAVE UNTAPPED AND INFINITE POTENTIAL.

I DESERVE SUCCESS.

Good boys. They’ll start working soon.

It’s a shame too, because Brownie and I had been having such a lovely week. Knocking off work at lunch to lie top-n-tail on the couch and watch the Olympic diving together, eating jelly snakes and giving insightful commentary on the springboard events, re-enacting rhythmic gymnastic routines using the left over crepe paper from Hot Man Christmas. See if I play ‘Italian ribbons routine’ with you this week, mister. Hmph.

I should probably also point out at this point that the Errol office is in disarray this morning anyway, and I’m sure you can guess why. We awoke to the news that Intern Greg Bird won’t be fronting up for work today … because he’s kind of in jail.

Needless to say this is Not Good News to face first thing on a Monday. We Errol girls aren’t very good at mornings in general life, let alone when one of our employees has been charged with assault. I’ve already had two high-kick Mimosas ** and it’s not even ten thirty yet.

And I think for now, that’s all we’ll say about that.

Back to my sad chooks for a moment. The only bright spot in that whole game was that Paul Gallen’s grapple tackle on our Errol favourite, David Shillington, caused a little bit of push-n-shove. Shirt-lifting push-n-shove. Our favourite kind!


pic: Getty Images / smh.com.au

Have you been working out more, Shillo? On the Parramatta low-carb diet? Either way we’re all very impressed. Even John John!

And it seems like the Roosters are also determined to outdo Manly as the most retro team in the league. They’ve introduced some snazzy new workout suits and debuted them at the Roosters fan BBQ. It almost goes without saying that I approve. So seventies! So New York Jew!

(Thanks to Browder for the fab Braith pic)

CHAS TENENBAUM I LOVE YOUR WORK!

Now onto the Warriors (STOP LAUGHING, INTERN BROWNIE. JESUS). I’m going to be honest, for most of this season I was completely indifferent to the Warriors. Didn’t like em, didn’t hate em. Plus they were kind of far away so it was easy to just pretend they didn’t exist. That was all before they started their mass beardathon. It is hilarious and I love it.

The Channel Nine commentary team announced on Sunday they have solved The Mystery of The Beards (that they’re tributes to Ruben Wiki) but … didn’t we all know that already? Way to fall off the pace Channel Nine! We here at Errol have been discussing this vitally important news story at our afternoon cocktail hour for weeks. WEEKS I TELL YOU! We are all over the facial hair news.

And we are especially all over it insofar as it involves Michael Witt and his amazing ginger moustache. We just love a man who grows a surprise ginger mo and doesn’t shave it off in a moment of despair and vanity. Perhaps I misjudged you, Mr Witt. FLY THE FLAG WITTY! We love it.

Meanwhile the Tigers have brought back the old Wests jerseys to wear while being beaten by Manly. FINALLY, A V NECK. I’m ever so happy. Because do you know who looks good in a round neck? That’s right, the answer is “not football players”.

Sure they may not have won, but they looked fabulous. Look how flattering that is. Especially on Daine Laurie as he scored two one-man tries, side-stepping defence with his old gold legs, dreadlocks in full flight. The man must be eight feet tall.

And in the process of winning over the Tigers, how much better was Anthony Watmough’s game? I like to think he has been paying attention to his horoscopes and spent a morning at home focussing and preparing mentally for his game:

Spend a little extra time and energy at home today, as there are issues just starting to arise that you can handle with ease at this point.

The other possibility is that Des Hasler giving the boys the silent treatment after their loss last week to the Rabbitohs scared them into a win. Oh, Des! The silent treatment? Can’t you just imagine it?

I hope that while he was refusing to speak to the boys he also made extra noise while he did the washing-up in the kitchen and bashed pots and pans together and when anyone asked what was wrong just shouted “NOTHING. I’M FINE. CAN’T A MAN WASH UP WITHOUT BEING QUESTIONED ALL THE TIME?”

Poor boys though. Apparently the Manly kids just can’t make anyone happy lately. As if it’s not bad enough that they pissed off the wardrobe mistress and art director of the Gods of Football and were forced to play poker in their white hospital boxers for a segment on The Footy Show. That was super awkward.

And, kittens, I hate to leave you on a sad note, but in the Raiders vs South Sydney game yesterday Troy Thompson was taken off field with a ruptured achilles, and Marc-with-a-C Herbert with a medial ligament injury.

NOT THE HERB! We are utterly heartbroken. Herb is one of our Errol favourites and we can’t bear to think of the rest of the season without him. Rest up for 2009 Herbie baby.

* Next time I promise to actually write something about, you know, football. This week you just have to settle for the Important Business of uniform fashions, facial hair, and therapy updates.

** If you were wondering, it’s just like a regular Mimosa, but with an extra shot of Tanqueray, for that little high kick to the brain. WHEE!

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footy observations : a mixed bag

August 20th, 2008

Right. So as much as I love ignoring people and doing whatever the hell I want, there comes a time when every blogger/visionary must appease her readers/lowly subjects. It appears some of our male readers feel a tad uncomfortable with the amount of hot man-flesh on display here at Errol. The occasional complaints have now risen to a deafening roar of OMG MY BOSS THINKS I’M A HOMO NOW and KIKI! TOO MUCH MATT COOPER IN HIS UNDIES!

First of all there is no such thing as too much Hot Bitch Cooper in his undies. That’s like saying ‘please! no more orgasms!’. Secondly, what the hell are you all doing reading us at work? You should be ashamed of yourselves! We here at Errol do not stand for blatant time wasting in our office. We are nothing if not industrious.

Being a decidedly laissez-faire workplace, we briefly trialled unlimited internet usage for our employees. Needless to say it didn’t end well. Intern Greg Bird ignored his pile of work and spent hours buying ladies Chanel sunglasses on Ebay and Intern Brownie wasted an entire week investigating black market scalp transplants. Worst of all, thanks to Google, work experience boy John-John Williams discovered that nudist resorts exist in Australia. Then spent our entire Christmas party fund booking us all in for a holiday. WITHOUT OUR CONSENT. Unmitigated disaster!

Obviously, we now monitor our boys very closely.

I would like to point out that a) there has never been complete man-nudity and b) I think most of you are using the ‘someone will think I’m gay’ excuse when really it’s just because Hot Bitch’s perfectly sculpted abs make you feel bad about yourselves. BUT because I love you all, I am prepared to compromise. Never will I stop e-objectifying footy players (NEEEVVVVEEER!) but from now on whenever I post a bit of skin, this graphic will appear.

warning

Now onto the footy.

Confirming the worst kept secret of the year, Darius Boyd has finally  announced his move to my beloved Dragons. I can’t believe the Dragons even bothered with a press release when everyone already knew of the signing. Waste of paper! Enviromental vandalism! I don’t quite know how I feel about Boyd yet. I feel like a stranger is moving into my house. I mean really, who IS this man? Will we be compatible? How does he feel about low fat milk and chore rosters? What incarnation of Law and Order does he prefer? I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!

Actually, scratch that. I now know he’s a briefs man.

kjlkj

Good to know.

In other Dragons news, Big Dell made yet another return to first grade on Friday night. What is that now…three returns? Are they still classified as returns? It’s so confusing. Clearly he should just be there every single week. Why? Partly because of his newly grown fu-manchu moustache. But mostly because have you ever seen anyone this pumped to score a try?

lkjl

Amazing.

I wish I had time for more blogging, but alas I have to depart. We are off to the Steve Menzies Tribute Dinner tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing. Intern Brownie is hemming my dress and I need to be in it. As usual John-John is of absolutely no help. He keeps running around yelling YEEEHA! SAVE A HORSE…RIDE A COWBOY! He just loves Rodeo Wednesday.

lkjlkjlk

(Naked John thanks to artie at FM Forums and Naked for a Cause. Big Dell from the amazing Getty Images)

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the most wonderful time of the yeaaaaar!

August 8th, 2008

Christmas in July? Pfffft. Who wants to spend a boring weekend in a Blue Mountains B&B rolling about in fake snow? No one, thats who. You know what they don’t have for Christmas in July? Hot shirtless football players.

Here at Errol we are all about Christmas in August. We celebrate Hot Man Christmas. With much fervour. Intern Brownie has helped us decorate the office with fairy lights and tinsel. He is suprisingly adept at interior design.

As usual, Intern GregBird contributed little to nothing and spent the whole time sprawled on the lounge yelling LOWER…NOW TO THE LEFT while stuffing his face with mince pies. Then I ‘accidentally’ spilt egg nogg on his leg and told the rest of the office it was jizz. Oh, how he cried.

And our new work experience boy John-John Williams has really got into the spirt by wandering about wearing nothing but a Santa hat. What can we say, he just Likes Being Naked. Who are we to object?

Anyway, last night on The Footy Show Santa delivered our presents. In the form of our favourite boys wearing not much more than a bow. Apparently we have been very very good girls this year because the hotness was staggering.

Okay, full disclosure time. We all wanted to blog about Hot Man Christmas but I was the only one who had the self control to stop humping the lounge and actually type. Because I am a nothing if not a Dedicated and Professional journalist.

Last nights segment on the new Gods of Football calendar brought two of our favourite things – hotness and lolz.

THE HOT

1) The words ‘god’ and ‘football’ cannot be spoken without mentioning Hot Bitch Cooper, and thankfully the wise calendar makers agree. I literally have no words for how these photos make me feel. So lets use maths instead.

Hot Bitch + little clothing = happy Pink V

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2) I love it when Santa brings suprises. Imagine our excitement when we unwrapped Davey Williams! SQUEEEE! We really weren’t expecting that. We thought we were the only ones who appreciated his awesome Daveyness. Actually, we would like to take credit for starting the entire ‘David Williams is attractive’ movement. His appearance in the calendar is clearly directly related to us and no one will tell me any different.

As we always suspected, The Hot Pioneer is well….hot. Sassy was overwhelmed with a sudden urge to convert to Christianity after witnessing Dave bear a striking resemblance to Jesus. A sexy sexy Jesus. He even rocked a crucifixion pose. HALLELUJAH!

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Oh and that smile?? Wow….just wow.

3) Another delightful suprise was the appearance of David Shillington. Rabs calls him a ‘big impressive thing’ and after seeing this footage we have to agree. We are all over that chest hair. It’s fucking great.

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I’ve seen Shillo clad in only undies with my own eyes and I have to say…it is quite the sight. TEAM SHILLO!

4) The hot hooker! Matt Ballin, our very own Errol personal trainer, is flashing his perfectly toned body for the calendar. All those extra push ups have really paid off Bal. I’ll see you for our boxing session on Tuesday.

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Wait is that…is he…wearing lipgloss?

5) Nathanael Barnes I have absolutely no idea who you are, but godamn you are a welcome addition under my Hot Man Christmas tree.

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THE LOLZ

1) The Manly boys certainly drew the short straw in the underwear department. The cruel wardrobe mistresses decided to dress them in horrifying white boxer shorts. Baggy, voluminous WHITE boxer shorts. They look like something a grumpy nurse would dress you before you’re wheeled in for surgery.

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Look at them. They KNOW they look ridiculous. Bless.

2) The Tigers are apparently Leather Gays now. Awesome.

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3) And the Roosters are a 90s boy band on the set of their new video ‘Shirt Off For Love’. By the way, their second single ‘Trimmed Pubes Are For Winners’ is an absolute cracker.

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4) This one needs no explanation.

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Something tells me underweared horseplay in an alley isn’t entirely unusual for these two.

5) Shaun Kenny Dowall arrived on set late and was stuck with the shit undies. THOSE ARE FOR LADIES SHAUN. THEY ARE BIKINI BRIEFS.

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Pink? Is that you?? I loved that President song!

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But by far our favourite moment of last nite was our adorable ginger kitten Ranga Josh competing in the quiz. He promised he would flash us the peace sign as a visual shout out and HE DID! Amazing. He is now the official Oh Errol mascot. WE LOVE YOU RANGA JOSH!

Go register for your preview of the calendar here. And make sure you buy one. It’s for charity so we demand it. Happy Hot Man Christmas babies!

(Massive thanks to our all time favourite blog for all the amazing caps. We love you matey!)

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14 

the weekend footy round-up: for people with lives

August 3rd, 2008

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?

 

But I’m also an optimist, so I’ll try and put all the word fragments back together for you, and if this works we should end up with a summary of everything vital you missed in the last five games, with none of the boring stuff. Either that or – by sheer coincidence – the full original text of Shakespeare’s As You Like It. Let’s find out.


Not the face!

Manly Sea Eagles vs Penrith Panthers – The Epic Drama

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.

Gold Coast Titans vs Melbourne Storm – The Grind

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.

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27 

errol internships: new applications now open

August 1st, 2008

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.


The NSW star had been handcuffed and thrown into the back of a paddy wagon outside a Brisbane nightclub at 4.30am for doing little more than asking a constable for directions.

“I was back at the hotel in bed when he rang me,” Sharks skipper Paul Gallen said.

“I didn’t believe him at first. Then he started crying.”

“That’s Birdy . . . he is just a big sook. He cries a lot.”

“If you don’t know him there is that perception that he is an arrogant little turd. He thinks he is so cool with his get-up, but it is terrible.”

“He wears chicks’ sunglasses and ‘where’s Wally’ T-shirts. And he has got these 1980’s Reebok Pumps which he wears with the tongue out so everyone knows they are really Reebok Pumps.

“He is a bit different, for sure, but to be honest you couldn’t meet a better guy. Anyone who gets to know him could only call him one thing and that is a top bloke. He is always there for a quiet beer and he always listens.”

BIRDMAN’S A CRIER. I will never ever stop smiling at that. Not even while I hug him and smush his face in my amazing rack for being so fucking adorable. (I think he’d be a good height for that. Convenient!) I can’t figure out whether it’s funnier that he cries, or funnier that Paul Gallen bags his outfits. I love him too, too much.

And in yet more proof that Birdman is the George Costanza of the Sharks, Jarrad-with-an-A Anderson slipped in a reference too.

“Mate, we are always giving it to Birdy,” former Sharks teammate Jarrad Anderson said.
“We got him with a screamer last year and, yeah, we made him cry. He will deny it but he gave us a lift to the pub and he came in and left his keys on the table. We went out and moved his car, then put the keys back. He said goodbye and left. He came back about five minutes later crying, saying his car had been stolen. He even called his mum.”

After that kind of overwhelming candidate, how can I even read the rest of the applications? I’m calling it a day and leaving the other 50 to the girls. I vote INTERN GREGBIRD for 2009.

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