Recently, we’ve made a lot of new discoveries.

As part of her ‘Wet July’ campaign*, Sassy discovered that the Beach Road Hotel is exactly one longneck’s walk from her front door. She loves a roadie, and hates drink driving.

Kiki discovered that cleaning out a rabbit hutch is Extremely Unpleasant. Turns out her new pet bunny Preston Campbell is far less hygienic and tidy than the real Preston Campbell.

And after being slightly distressed last night (there may have been a tear or two) we discovered that even when you get maroon-washed you can still feel pretty proud the next morning.

See those big penguins? That’s us. Bein’ proud Origin parents.

Let’s break it down.

Three weeks can make a shitload of difference, huh? Even though the first ten minutes wasn’t exactly all the Blues dreams come true (understatement), the next 60 proved that when you play like you can win and get your blue asses all up in Queensland’s business, then you can win. It was a slightly-less-violent version of last year’s game three attitude. It also reminded us of the game back in 2009 where the bottom-eight Raiders beat the Minor Premiers St George out of nowhere just by gettin all up in their grills. This is also known as The Game Where T.Camps Threw a Ball at Dean Young’s Head. Also known as One Of Our Favourite Games Ever.

Hugging Gidley = v. important part of captain’s duties.
Pic. Getty Images

Straight after full time, we won’t lie, we were desolate. Seeing them come so close, but fall short, was sad sad sad. It may have even caused us to self-medicate with booze. But in retrospect, this is good. We is PROUD.

The last five years for NSW supporters have been like a five-year lesson in parenting. What do you do when you have children who disappoint you? What do you do when they make bad choices, when they get bullied, when they don’t believe in themselves? How do you deal with kids who fail to live up to their potential?

Apparently – and we checked this with our own mums to make sure – you can’t give kids back. It’s called ‘abandonment’ and people frown upon it.

Little Kurt just doesn’t understand.

So we stuck with the boys, just kept telling them we loved them and makin em peanut butter sandwiches or whatever young people eat these days … and last night we finally got the parental payoff. We think they call this feeling … PRIDE?

We get it now when parents say that they don’t care what mark you get “JUST AS LONG AS YOU TRY YOUR BEST DARLING”.

So let’s give some special shoutouts to our kids:

WE’RE SORRY, KURT GIDLEY: After all this drama, turns out you can play like a fucking demon when you want to (and when the selectors put you on the bench, where a good utility belongs). We’re sorry about the time we said on twitter you were ruining our lives. Now who else wants to sign the apology card?

WHAT UP FORMER INTERN GREG BIRD! Birdy, we knew you could do it all along. You’re a tough little nugget of awesome, and you proved it when you went over the line to ground the grubber, and in defence. ORIGIN 4 LYFE.

JARRYD HAYNE: Great game. Your other games weren’t great, but whatevs. That cut out pass to Brett Morris was MAGIC. You’re totally getting a bike for Christmas.

TOM LEAROYD-LAHRS AHOY! What? We have eyes. And as well as being a hot bitch, Tommy LL proved you don’t have to be the kind of player that racks up judiciary points to have enough (that hated word) “mongrel” to play Origin. Bitch is tough.

PAUL GALLEN: We don’t say nice things about Sharks players. You can make up your own complimentary feedback.

BUT ME JUST WANTS TO BE LOVED. WON’T SOMEONE HUG ME?
Pic. Quentin Jones

And the best bit of it? Not one player in that team played themselves out of a Blues jersey. For New South Welshfolk this feels weird. But we assure you it’s totally normal. We dare you to tell us who shouldn’t get another chance. Not even B.Moz when he cruelly murdered a try. Not even Ennis with his …. poor choice to join in a punch up in his own half. Not even Flash Gordon in his First Ever Origin, playing in the Position of Death. Sure there was that moment where he had some kind of attacking brain snap and ran in-field when the left side was open but whatever, Gidley ended up scoring anyway.

Sure Queensland played through some gaps out wide but that’s not necessarily a wing failure. That’s a whole line failure. And we’re 99% sure it’s the kinda thing that you fix by playing together, no?

They all played like boys who want to wear blues jerseys. Meaning they all played like boys who deserve blue jerseys. Luke Lewis, in the minutes he was on the field played like TWO men who should wear blue jerseys.

The exception was probably the last ten minutes, when they played like guys who all of a sudden realised they might actually win this thing and were so shocked and delighted and confused by the prospect of it happening that they lost their damn minds. But it happens, right? When you’re not used to winning it’s harder to win. Next time, it’ll be a teeny bit easier.

The maroons are good at football, bad at counting. Check out JT, Matt Scott and Darius.
Pic. Getty Images

Meanwhile, this is probably the point where we should discuss Queensland. We don’t like doing this. Yes, you’re all very good at football. Yes, that was a very good kick Darren Lockyer. Yes, Sam Thaiday we know you love fightin’, but stop trying to join in other people’s punch-ups. Also, tie your shorts a bit tighter next time pls.

Yes, letting Israel Folau take the last conversion attempt was kind of gross. (Nothing personal, Izzy). We could have written it off as “a touching farewell” if it wasn’t for the whole matter of Queensland first REFUSING to pick him on moral grounds, then picking him anyway cause he’s one of their two best wingers, then pimping him out as a hero. GROSS.

Do you know what is personal though? B.Moz and his injured knee. We blame you. Kiki in particular blames you. If someone in a balaclava knocks on your door then Tonya Hardings your knee, it’s probably her.

We would like to suggest that any team that would injure Brett Morris – beloved by all – is clearly in league with the powers of darkness.

As opposed to our team, who are on the whole pretty handsome, totally lovable, and wear delightfully short shorts.

And that’s SoO for 2010, over and out.

You stay classy, Origin fanz.
Pic. Cameron Richardson

* Wet July is just like Dry July, except instead of getting sponsored to be sober … you give money to charity yourself, then get drunk. Feel free to join in.

Let’s get this out of the way: WE GOT A HUG FROM JAMAL. IT’S ON VIDEO. YOU WILL SEE IT. IT WAS AMAZING.

Now, where were we?

Day 1 of our Port Macquarie Odyssey took us to local skills clinics with both City and Country teams and some Port Mac schoolkids. Pretty obviously, the weather was a massive bitch. Hence, we look like slightly drowned dogs, and did most of our interviews under a random signing marquee. Good times.

Here’s the rundown, before we get to the sweet video action: Intern Lachie is so teeny! Yes, we see him around the office every day, but we have an average height of 5’5″, so seeing him amongst other footy players is completely different and really worries us. Don’t break him please!

Lots of you asked for Josh Dugan interviews, but this morning he was far too busy talking on his mobile and being interviewed in a public toilet block by a really shifty looking ‘journo’ for us to get interviews … sorry guys! Next time, we promise.

Jamal got the same treatment; we like to call it George Michael TV.

Make sure you pay attention in our favourite bits of the video:

* Todd Carney shifting around like he has ants in his pants, thanks to Michael Robertson and Joel Thompson sitting off-camera and playing footsies with Todd’s Crotch.

* Ronnie Palmer gazing off into the distance as he talks about shorts, and how he secretly rolls his up when no one’s looking. What was he looking at? Carty was cracking up, at Ronnie’s expense.

* Carty fending off the ‘ambush’ questions about us being pests. According to him we are “very good girls”. AWWWW.

Sadly, what you can’t see in the video (but we could see) is how interested Greg Bird was in the informative literature we brought about the sights of Port Macquarie. He loved it! Couldn’t wait to find out what historical peccadillos Port had in store for him. We are also 99% sure Joel Thompson took home the Frangipanni massage pamphlet. Good choice.

After we wrapped up our interviews, we headed back to town for lunch. Something classy for two classy ladies … like Subway. As we were parking we drove past Carty and Ronnie -- everyone’s favourite City rugby league power couple -- heading out for a lunch date. They seemed to like Sassy’s mum’s sweet Subaru station wagon. “Nice car, girls”.

Apparently everyone had the same idea, because inside Subway we found half of the city team on a sandwich date: Trent Waterhouse, Lachlan Coote, Joel Reddy, Tim Grant and Michael Jennings. Before you ask, no we aren’t stalking them. And yes, they eat Subway, just like regular people!

Kiki had a Moment of Trauma in Subway when she found herself lined up behind Trent Waterhouse, really really wanting to order a footlong turkey sub, but kind of embarassed since giant prop Trent Waterhouse had just ordered a footlong, too. After a brief moment of indecision: does she just WHISPER her order? should she order a six-inch like a lady? … she thought DAMMIT. I REALLY WANT MY FOOTLONG. Cue the following exchange at the cash register:

Kiki: “I can’t believe I eat the same lunch as a footballer”
Subway dude: “… actually a little bit more”
Sassy: “Is that cause she ordered double cheese?”

Till next time darlings!

Kittens, I am officially losing all sense of perspective. Sure I was kind of a bitch before, but apparently I have now become so obsessed with our fantasy league experiment that I have lost all concern for right and wrong.

Every time I hear the word “scandal” and “league star”, my heart leaps and I just start really really praying that some awesome player has been caught in a compromising (but not deregistration-worthy) position with his pants off in a public street, possibly involving some kind of escort or domestic beast, just so I can draft him into the Second Chances. I care not for their reputation or family life, I just wanna win.

So you can imagine how happy I was when I heard “LEAGUE STAR CAUGHT DRINK DRIVING” on my radio this week.

(Happy as a pig in shit, for those who aren’t good at imagining stuff).

Disclaimer: may not be the actual Tony Williams

Then I heard the rest of the story and realised it was Tony Williams from the Sea Eagles. Thanks for nothin, universe.

So here’s how it went down in round five:

The lil Angels had their ups and their downs. Adorable Timmy Moltzen racked up 1 point before he injured his ACL and had to be helped from the field up at Dairy Farmer’s stadium. ONE POINT! ACL! GAME OF DEATH!

It’s always sad when awful things happen to people that cute. I mean, a halfback settling into his position with untapped and potentially massive potential. If Tim’s reading (and who are we kidding, he totally is), we think he should come by for milkshakes and movies at Errol HQ.

And brand new hooker and captain Issac Luke: 96 points. 96. points. I am starting to hate him already.

Total: 519 points.

And finally, finally, over in camp Second Chances, my faith in our favourite chicken nugget Greg Bird was repaid. After some dismal 16 point performances, he locked in 60 this week. Hurrah Greg Bird!

Disclaimer: may not be actual Greg Bird

This is the kind of redemption and success that the Second Chances stand for. Makes me wanna start some kind of giant group hug.

Sadly, the feathered one was the stand out, and my little troublemakers lost to Kiki by just 20 points.

Total: 499 points.

That leaves the Angels at 12th and the Second chances at 13th on the Oh Errol league table. It’s so close you could throw a snuggie over those bitches. Please don’t though, because Snuggies are an abomination against God.

Till next week! GO THE SECOND CHANCES.

UPDATE: I have renovated the Second chances for round six! Please welcome Lote and Laffranchi, and the returning Pom.

We googled ‘fantasy’ and this is what came up. Awesome.

WHAT UP ERROLERS!

Welcome to Fantasy League Friday. This will be a weekly occurence. And by ‘weekly occurence’ we mean it will appear every Friday until we get distracted/lose interest/spill vodka all over our laptops making it impossible to blog. But never fear darlings, it’s safe to say we are completely and utterly obsessed with fantasy league. Hardly a suprise, considering we never do anything by halves. But for Kiki it’s got to the point where she couldn’t sleep a few nights during the week because she was stressing over what changes she should make to her team. TRUE STORY.

Anyway, let’s cut to the chase shall we? Who is better, the sinners or the saints? Wellllll…..*very dramatic drum roll*….

WINNER

Kiki Lil Angels : 400 points

LOSER

Sassy’s Second Chances : 396 points

DAAAAAAMN. So close for Sassy, yet so so far. Kiki feels lucky to ‘get away with a win’ so has repressed any urges to perform an obnoxious victory dance.

As you may have noticed, neither of us scored particularly highly. Why so? Because, as is the answer we use so often….we are idiots. We didn’t realise the bench players actually contributed points. Sure we shoulda realised that considering that’s how actual football works but…WE ARE IDIOTS, REMEMBER?

Consequently our benches weren’t properly thought out and had players that didn’t even play over the weekend, that’s why we are so shit in our own competition etc etc.

So this week, the gloves are off and we is Serious Supercoaches. Any loyalty we had towards players we picked in the first round has been swiftly disposed of replaced with cut throat pragmatism. Sure, Kiki adores Daniel Mortimer but the useless (and expensive) thing only scored her 11 points. ELEVEN POINTS PEOPLE. He’s gone.

Behold, this weeks transfers -

Kiki’s Lil Angels

Nick Kenny in for John Kite - well John Kite wasn’t even named in his team last week, a detail Kiki managed to overlook. Nick Kenny is a worthy member of the Angels, as he was a nominee for Ken Stephens Medal in 2009. We worked the One Community Awards for the NRL and consequently had to study what each nominee had done. We won’t go into details but Nick’s good deeds moved Kiki to tears. Actual wet droplets coming from her eyes.

Also, he’s a qualified physio so if one of the Angels has an injury he can use his Jesus like hands to do some miracle healing. NICK KENNY YOU ARE LOVE.

Corey Patterson in for Alan Tongue – Sorry, Sir Alan. You didn’t do anything specifically wrong, but Corey scored more points last week and cost less on the salary scale. He qualifies for the Angels because he’s fronted up publicly about his battle with clinical depression and encouraged others to seek help.

Joseph Tomane in for Daniel Mortimer - Reason for cutting Dan Dan are above. Kiki googled Tomane and he has yet to have a public scandal so BAM welcome to the Angels Jo.Toms!

Sam Perrett in for Krisnan Inu – One Jebus lover in for another! Sam is what we lovingly call ‘a happy clappy Christian’. Hey if you’re gonna worship the lord you should totally do it while harmonising with other Islanders right? He also has a lovely habit of high scores in fantasy league. Sorry Krisnan. Maybe start praying to your Mormon God for more ball.

[Also - Sam deserves a little public adulation after he was CRUELLY ROBBED in the Footy Show's talent contest back in ... whenever it was. The Soul Brothers from the Roosters were clearly a billion times better than the James Blunt dude who won it. - Sassy]

Due to his amazing high score last week, Coach Kiki has ditched Nips Farah as her captain and given Sam the honour. DON’T LET HER DOWN SAMUEL.

Over in the Second Chances camp, spirits are high. Sure, the boys didn’t take home the 2 points for the win, but there are Very Promising Signs. Their fearless leader Todd Carney smashed his first round with 51 points. Fifty-One!

After the game the rest of the team spontaneously stood on the locker room benches and chanted O CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN. It was some straight-up emotional Dead Poets Society shit.

Sadly former intern Greg Bird didn’t sparkle as Coach Sassy had hoped. He played not so much like a footy star seeking redemption as … a potato with hands. Hands made of other uncoordinated potatoes. BUT WE LIVE IN HOPE. Coach Sassy is harsh, but fair. She’s ruthless, but occasionally merciful. And this week instead of cutting Greg Bird and his miserable 11 points, she’s giving him another week and lots of cuddles to see if he can improve. Sassy was also devastated when her favourite Jewish winger Bronx ‘Goldwin’ Goodwin was injured in reserve grade. There go his chances of being a Second Chance.

We did boot the injured Arana Taumata and Nathan Fien, and welcome driving-offender Cooper Vuna and Terence Seu Seu for his fine supporting work in the Brett Seymour scandal. It’s actually a hell of a lot harder than you would think to find a scandal-prone hooker. Plus Lote Tuqiri was unwilling to sign as the Second Chances winger for the money we were offering. Sigh. Welcome aboard, kids!

GAME ON.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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?

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.

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

I am shocked, boys. Shocked and appalled! I turn my back for a week to watch a little bit of Olympics and you all start turning all Lord of the Flies on me.

This week has been yet more dramaz and violence ahoy in the NRL.  As if we didn’t have enough.

Anyway, as we go back through the violent tendencies from this week, I’m going to give you my observations in point form. We can pretend each one is a ninja star.

* My Roosters. I am so, so unbelievably glad I was out downing voddies and dancing to the Misshapes instead of watching this. We were crushed 30-6.  Let’s just say if this really were Lord of the Flies, the Storm were the choir boys. That’s all I have to say about that.

* Ben Roberts has escaped his assault charge with a $2,500 fine. By my caluclations this means there must now be TWO Bulldogs still in possession of their liberty, not on the run from the law, and fit enough to be able to play for team this week. HALLELUJAH!  That’s the most they’ve had in weeks!  Jessica and that guy who wears the wooden spoon hat to doggies games will be overjoyed.

* There was enough passive-aggression on the field between the Tigers and Parramatta Eels on Monday to outdo even Benny Roberts and his assaults. I don’t know if it was because Brett Hodgson finally found Oh Errol and was offended by my Starlight Hodgson comments, but bitch was pissed. I know this because he complained even more than Brett Finch.

And I don’t know if it’s due to a new end of season Atkins diet but the Fattamatta Eels are back in some kind of form. Running! Scoring tries! Not puffing so much!

I’m thisclose to joining Big Blog just so I can comment on Nathan Hindmarsh’s blog and ask for their secret. It’s low carb, isn’t it?

I think the wild weather sent the boys from the west a little Lord of the Flies too, because Bryce Gibbs took out Krisnan Inu with a high arm in a tackle and Corey Payne went for Jarryd ‘Baby’ Hayne’s face in a retro facial massage.

Or is it jealousy? Are Corey and Bryce just pissed that they didn’t get nominated in the Errol awards this year? ENVY IS SO UNBECOMING, BOYS. If you have broken Krisnan’s adorable sunshiney smile or Baby Hayne’s snuggly little face I will get all Ben Roberts on your ass. Trust.

Feleti Mateo didn’t need any help though. They say he injured a knee, we know better. In his few weeks off he got a taste for Ranch Dressing and daytime tv and bitch doesn’t wanna give it up.

Now that’s a ranch-dressing belly if ever I saw one.

Do you think it’s a coincidence it happened just as he was seeing what it’s like to play a full game back in the first grade side? More like he started to feel tingles down his left arm and realised what we all firmly believe: that intense exercise is tres unpleasant. He’s totally faking this. WE SEE THROUGH YOU FELETI.

(Pssst – come over next week if you want to watch Oprah together, bb)

* Souths fans are clearly going crazy on the island too, because as South Sydney were unexpectedly demolishing Manly on the weekend, one crazy Rabbitohs fan decided the best way to express his joy was by throwing a metal socket at Steve Matai. A metal socket? Does anyone even know what that is? Like … a light socket? God I am so confused.

Confused in so many ways. You’re winning. How does that translate to a socket to Steve Matai’s head? I already explained last time that Matai’s cornrows do not amount to head protection. Yes, he may have a cornrow fringe now – which, by the way Steve, I really enjoy.  V flattering - but bitch is still human and this primal socket-throwing stuff is really quite dangerous.  (Well, it’s dangerous assuming a metal socket is what I think it is.  It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye!)

What’s next, the pig on a stick?

I also wanna give a shout out to Anthony Watmough who had a shocker of a game against the Rabbitohs. It wasn’t your fault, Tony. You may not know it, but the universe was Not Happy with you on Sunday. So it wasn’t that you lost the plot, so much as the planets gave you a massive kick in the face. Here’s a little excerpt from your Sunday horoscope:

You are so distracted at the moment and need to understand which activities and people are of value or of prime importance.

UNCANNY, right?  No wonder you kept knocking on and missing tackles.  You were astrologically distracted.

If you want to start consulting the stars before next week’s match to see if your performance will improve, I highly recommend Astro Barry.

* Tim Sheens doesn’t want to be left out either, so he’s decided to call back some Tigers greats to relive the seventies, maybe slap each other around a little bit, and promote their next game during the week. Really Tim Sheens.  Selling football with violence?  I expected more of you.

Sigh.  I just hope things are a little more sunshine and rainbows this weekend in the league.  All this injury and drama is so exhausting.  I had to have two tumblers of voddie and dry just watching the football on Monday night.

So in the interest of my mental health, and not getting cirrhosis of the liver, all Reni and I are asking you, babies, is:

Give peace a chance.

It shouldn’t be. I’m actually meant to be at the footy stadium watching my Roosters play the Fattamatta Eels but I woke up this afternoon with a hangover so punishing it’s like an angry bear bashing itself on the inside of my skull. I barely managed to muster up enough energy to get out of bed and have Intern Greg Bird pull all the mysterious dried leaves out of my hair. I might just post Kiki’s helpful SMS message here instead of trying to explain because I think it sums the whole situation up quite well:  

u have leaves in ur hair because u lied down in the street.
then a cop came to see if u were okay and u accidentally kicked her in the face. it was amazing.

I love my boys, but I just couldn’t do it.  Leave me behind guys, I’m done for.  GO AHEAD!  SAVE YOURSELVES!  Needless to say I am completely rubbish and not promising any kind of accuracy. I don’t even really know who I want to win. I do love little Wade Graham and his luxurious eyelashes, Matthew Bell and his great head of hair and baby Lachlan Coote. Plus there’s the fact that the other night in the pub Kiki and our mate Alex named my boobs after Tony and Frank Puletua, so we kind of have a vibe, the Puletuas and I.

But I’m also oddly fond of the Raiders. I love reading out their hilarious retro librarian names (shoutout to Neville Costigan – your name’s my favourite darlin), I love how untanned they all are – no beaches in Canberra, kids – and I love the Herb. I’M SO TORN.

I take two Nurofen plus and before I’ve even swallowed them Rhys Wesser darts through the defence and sets up Michael Gordon for a try. Gordon converts and winks adorably as he walks off. I don’t know who you are Mr. Gordon but I like you already you cheeky bitch.

Before I can even make a joke about nifty little Danny Glover and his skillz Herbie has sent in a kick and Terry Campese leaps over Danny like a dolphin and grounds it for a try. He converts for 6-6. My poor little brain can’t handle the excitement as Dane Tilse leaps on a ball in goal for another Raiders try.

Aaaah I love it when front rowers score tries. They get so left out of the glory, and I honestly don’t know if I’ve even seen another front-rower score from a kick and chase this year. But Dane Tilse was all over that Terry Campese kick with all of his considerable bulk just centimetres before the dead ball line. He looks so shocked and excited it makes my heart smile. GO DANE! You win at life.

In the meantime Luke Priddis has broken something in his head and is staggering around on the field doing a fairly good Mick Crocker impression. He also has a swipe of white from the field markings on the front of his hair and he looks like nothing so much as a drunk Maxwell Sheffield in a footy uniform.

Imagine how happy I am when they have to whip him off the field and sub in Masada Iosefa. I adore him. I’m so upset that he obviously rang the commentary team a few weeks ago and explained that his name is pronounced Yosefa instead of Ocifer.

Oh how I used to love reenacting my own drunken police officer moments every time they mentioned his name.

Scuse me Ocifer … I like your new uniforms with the tuck-in pantsh. They’re very … mill … mulla … military. *slaps cop on the arse*

Danny Glover skips around David Milne for another brilliant try and I’ve realised he’s very Amos Roberts when he scores tries. An arm in the air after an amazing 50 metre try and they don’t even crack a smile. I like to think they just let their feets do the talking. Their fancy fancy feet.

12-12.

Now this is where it gets kind of sad. Amazing and impressive and all, but at the same time oh so very sad. That giant redwood Joel Monaghan charges through Penrith’s line and across the line on the right hand side for a try. Terry Campese sets up Trevor Thurling for another. Colin Best offloads to the nugget of a man that is Justin Carney for another on the left. Justin Carney has surprisingly shiny and gleaming hair. He’s like an echidna.

I would also like to remind everyone that today is officially Sorry Ranga Day. And in the spirit of the day I wanna give a giant hug to Joel Monaghan and Alan Tongue for all the struggles I know they must have endured so far in life (our country is Not Kind to Rangas) and remind you all that we here at Errol will be honouring the greatest rangas in our fine game in the Oh Errol awards.

I would also like to apologise to the LadyCop for accidentally hitting her in the face with my boot. I’m sorry LadyCop. Thank you for not arresting me.

[UM. WHERE IS MY THANKYOU??? If not for my quick thinking and physical strength you would be fighting assault charges right now missy! As soon as you kicked her I peeled you off the ground and dragged you into the darkness. On the run from the po-po through the backstreets of Newtown. Good times. - Kiki]

Canberra fans huddle for warmth and Scott Sattler on the sideline complains about getting frostbite in his fingers. I’ll keep you warm, Scotty. *seedy wink* I also swear to god the Penrith interchange bench are all wearing emergency SES blankets. They look like depressed schoolboys rescued from a Duke of Edinburgh trek gone bad in the Blue Mountains.

Campese commando rolls for another try and converts it too, but I’m distracted by Alan Tongue running around in the background. I love him in his headgear. Obviously pretty much everyone looks ridiculous with a headgear on (except Jonathon Thurston, who, inexpicably looks BETTER in headgear) but combined with the Raiders green Alan looks like nothing so much as a grumpy turtle general marshalling his turtle troops about the field. Good work Turtle!

Army Tank Trevor Thurling finishes off the half with one more try just to make sure that the Panthers are sufficiently depressed.

38-12.

I can pretty much sum up the second half by saying three things:

Rhys Wesser inexplicably misses a kick from Canberra that is aimed right at him, then the ball by some miracle stops on it’s end vertical exactly before the dead ball line so the Raiders get another set. Penrith just Do Not Win At Life today and Danny Glover’s emotionless face is starting to look like a mask of despair.

Wade Graham limps off field with a torn medial ligament and I want to cry. I’m already heartbroken that the completely adorable Lachlan Coote is out injured. It’s not the same watching footy without feeling like there’s a chance that little Lachlan Cute will win man of the match and thank all his fans again.

To be honest then I fall asleep for a while (don’t judge me) and when I wake up Canberra have scored a thousand more tries and Trent Waterhouse looks like he will be the next person to start weeping uncontrollably.

I also realise finally that the reason Michael Gordon is kicking goals is because Luke Lewis broke his head last week. I KNEW I HADN’T SEEN YOU BEFORE MICHAEL. How did it take me sixty minutes to realise this? Maybe alcohol really does damage brain cells.

More tries, including one to the Turtle, who kisses the Raider emblem on his jersey. That is really sweet, but really creepy also. I am also completely in love with the fact that Tom Learoyd-Lahrs scored one. Soz Neville Costigan. You no longer have the greatest name in the Green Machine. You also just can’t compete with Learoyd-Lahrs and his fierce retro headwear.

The referee reprimands Luke Priddis for running early – “I HAVEN’T BLOWN THE WHISTLE YET, LUKE” – and he will so be the next to have a tear on the sideline. I can see the tears starting to prick in the corners of his eyes already.

The green machine hits 72-12 and send in Marc Herbert to convert – “the boys just wanted to give Herbie a kick,” according to Terry. I love how they talk about him like he’s their kid. WE FEEL THE SAME WAY, HERBIE! He seems like a lovely boy. I would totally adopt him. We could have breakfast out on the terrace while I brush his hair and part it to the side and get him ready for a big day of training.

The final damage is 74-12, 10 goals and four tries of that thanks to Tezza Campese, and in a final moment of heart-wrenching hilarity, Trevor Thurling tells the interviewers that he wants to shout out to all the boys in Queanbeyan.

HE REALLY IS FROM QUEANBEYAN. I knew it! I bet anything he has at some point in his life worked part-time in the library. I just know it. Bless you Trevor. You deserve the win honey.

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

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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.

4) This one needs no explanation.

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.

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

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!)