Ok so you people have been hassling me non stop all week to do a new post and I can’t take it any more. Apparently Errol has turned you all into Tyrone Biggums, jonesing for your sweet sweet Kiki crack. So because I’m a dirty enabler, I’m giving into your demands and delivering you some grade A goods in the form of this blog. Light up those pipes kids, here we go!

As previously discussed, we will be covering the Irish Rugby League Team’s trip to Australia for the RLWC. They could not have picked anyone better to be doing so as a) Sassy and I are the most Celtic people in Celtic town and b) we enjoy traditional Irish activities, ie: drinking beer and eating carbs.

In honour of the Irish boys imminent arrival, we are painting the Errol office green. Intern John-John is super!excited! to greet the Irish and has been slipping green food dye in our morning smoothies, making lewd jokes about his ‘pot of gold’ and keeps holding a four leaf clover above my head going KIKI LOOK…KISSY KISS! YOU HAVE TO ITS TRADITION! I don’t have the heart to tell him the tradition is mistletoe specific.

I was also planning on doing a recap of the Grand Final….until I watched it. Don’t get me wrong, I am tres happy with Manly’s win but 40-0 doesn’t exactly make for a thrilling post. It’s a try by Manly….and another try by Manly…and…yet another bloody try by Manly. WOOOO.

Sassy and I had tickets to the game, but due to our severe lack of self control we spent the afternoon sprawled on my loungeroom floor trying to fight our rising nausea. You see, we celebrated our radio superstardom a liiiiittle bit too hard the night before. The details are a tad fuzzy but let’s just say tequila was involved. Tequila and air guitar.

So instead of heading off to the footy we crashed my brothers grand final BBQ in a way only we can. Apologies to all my brother’s mates who were subjected to us lolling about in our pyjamas (sans bra), accessorised with matted hair and panda eyes. AVERT YOUR EYES BOYS. We did however provide some exclusive ~*Live Errol Commentary*~ which I like to think made up for such grossness.

When Sassy finally deemed it necessary to have a shower she yelled from the bathroom KIKI….GET ME A SAUSAGE SANDWICH…WITH ONION. Because I am literally the best wife in the world I did as she requested and then she proceeded to eat said sausage sandwich spreadeagled on the hallway floor clad only in a towel. I sat next to her while I attempted to comb out my unintentional Amy Winehouse beehive from the night before. HOW ARE WE SINGLE?? For reals boys, you are missing out big time.

All I have to say about the Grand Final is a) I am thrilled that the Beav got his fairytale and b) WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT PRE-GAME ‘ENTERTAINMENT’?? For a few minutes I thought the badness was due to my hangover. I furiously rubbed my eyes in the hope people banging on BBQs would transform into something actually awesome but no, that was it. That’s all the NRL has got for us. Look, I know Grand Final entertainment has never been stellar (apart from 2001 when Barnsey descended in a chopper and sang Working Class Man…amaaaaazing) but this was errrrr…..well.

Look I am all over some stadium sized entertainment. It can be fantastic. Examples being the 2000 Olympics Opening Ceremony and my participation in the 1995 School Spectacular. If you haven’t performed a dance at he Entertainment Centre to the Jackson Five’s ‘Can You Feel It?’ clad in a fluro yellow leotard and gold sequinned harem pants you just haven’t lived.

To be serious times for a moment, why does the NRL consistently under sell itself? They have a GREAT product but they somehow just don’t realise how great it really is. Although pre-game entertainment is fairly insignificant in the scheme of things, it’s kind of indicative of how the NRL views itself. And that’s upsetting, because they, and all of us are way better than that. I KNOW they can do better. Come on boys, call us! WE CAN HELP!

Right, now onto other things Kiki Is Pissed Off About. The Kangaroo squad was announced during the week and congratulations to all the boys but um….WHERE IS HOT BITCH COOPER?? We all fervently scanned the team list looking for our boy but….nothing. Surely it’s a typo? An administrative oversight? WHAT IS GOING ON?

If nothing else Coops shoulda been selected on humanitarian grounds alone. Not only has he suffered through yet another dissapointing year at the Dragons but his beloved husband and centre partner, Mark Gasnier, has abandoned him and taken off to France to be with other mans. Mans in pink jerseys. I think the only thing stopping Hot Bitch from totally giving up on life is his new manfriend, the Big Dell. That and the fact that I keep visiting him with messages of encouragment. And by ‘visiting him’ I mean sitting outside his loungeroom, tapping on the window yelling DON’T CRY HOT BITCH, KIKI’S HEEEEEERE! I STILL LOVE YOU BABY!

Errr…back to the Kangaroos. We were overwhelmed with joy to see Terry Campese get selected. We love T Camps! There is alot of hotness in the NRL but Terry is entirely on his own level. T Camps is well….well he’s handsome. There is a severe lack of handsome men in the world these days. Being hot is common, being handsome is classic. Terry possesses a type of old school handsome that is reminiscent of portraits hung at the Australian War Memorial.

Sassy has been wondering who we could photoshop in sepia now The Beav is leaving our shores, but fear not wifey….we now have Corporal Campese of the Light Horse to maintain the Errol vintage mans quota.

And that’s it kids. You satisfied yet?

(naked John from Naked For A Cause)

pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

First of all, right now I kind of feel like a bride who’s spent months in a wedding haze and, now that whole thing’s over, has seeped into a deep black hole of sadness. I DIDN’T KNOW THE OFF SEASON WOULD FEEL THIS SHIT. It’s like being given a puppy, bonding with it and laughing at the silly things it does for months, and then having it snatched away.

but whats i do withouts mah boys?

My post-Grand Final winners buzz is totally dampened by the fact that I MISS THE BOYS ALREADY. I spent Monday afternoon furiously checking Getty Images and HotAussieFootyPlayersShirtless for updates on the celebrations, and I think I’ve read every article on LeagueHQ today in an attempt to fill the void. I’M CHASING THE DRAGON. I NEED A FIIIIIIIIX *licks bathroom floor*

Aside from that, GO MANLY GOOOOOO. Not only was my first footy game EVER a free trip to see my own babies play, they also…well, do I even need to say it? Ok yes, yes I do. 40 NIL PEOPLE. FOR…TY…NIL.

pic: News Ltd/Gregg Porteous

Apparently I am also some kind of amazing prophet, because I started celebrating the gigantic win 24 hours before it happened. I just like to get things done, ok? (I was going to say ‘on top of things’ but John John was sniggering before I even typed ‘of’). I think all I really need to say here is that I was refused entry at The Judgy. But hey, at least I wasn’t partying in a wolf mask *cough*

We decided to reward our staff with a little Errol outing to the Big Game – it’s good for office morale, plus we needed a few sets of arms to fetch our snacks/throw things at Storm fans. So on Sunday we all climbed into the Errol Bus (which in case you’re wondering is exactly like the Priscilla bus but unfortunately with way less drag queens. Pretty much the same amount of disco and sequins though), strapped Lachie into his booster seat and then had to turn around when we realised John John wasn’t wearing any pants. Obviously we’re more than pleased to let him run free and nakey around the office, but we just can’t deal with having an intern in troubz for indecent exposure.

It’s safe to say that since I began my GF day vomming in a garden at the Crowne Plaza* (soz guys! thanks for the hospitality!) my perception of the game happening right in front of me was…cloudy. Nothing angers me more than the whole ‘girls can’t understand the rules’ notion, and I don’t want to encourage it, but shit I was disorientated. Was that a try? Is that one of our players or Melbourne? Why won’t my camera zoom in close enough for arse shots? I NEED COMMENTARYYYYYY. I think next time I’m taking a portable radio with me. Or Sassy and Kiki, which is kind of the same thing but heaps better.

But even with a vicious hangover, not knowing where to look to follow the game properly and being pissed off at the general public – not that they were anything but lovely from what I encountered (oh, except for the guys behind me who apparently turned up thinking some teams named ‘stand up and yell at your mate across the stadium’ and ‘hi i’m a drunk who just fell on you and didn’t apologise’ were playing), I just don’t like people very much – IT WAS SO FUN.

pic: silvertails.net

I was so caught up in the general vibe I didn’t even notice how bad the ‘entertainment’ was. For serious, I read the paper on Monday and was like “oh shit, a bbq routine?”. AND I didn’t even feel any hate towards Storm fans – even the girl next to us decked out in head to toe purple who apparently kept yelling ‘Billlyyyyyyyyyyy’ I was oblivious to. Where my good friend and Oh Errol/Manly supporter Bel heard Billy, I heard ‘yaaaaay football!’.

We even, in a rare display of goodwill, picked two Storm fans up on the way there and shared the most awkward car ride in history. I suppose I could’ve made it less awkward by you know, talking to them, but at that point I was still unable to form sentences.

Ok, so it wasn’t ALL good. To the people who got up and squeezed past us about 1000 times to go GOD KNOWS WHERE – sit the fuck down and yeah that is my toe you just stood on. Seriously it’s like two hours, how can they possibly need to get up and down that many times? DO YOU HAVE ANTS IN YOUR PANTS MISTER? Even Lachie was less fidgety, but that could’ve been because we had him on a leash.

Biggest lolz of the day – the guy who tried to fight the Sea Eagle (really, the Sea Eagle? Not Storm Man?), the entire stadium booing Cameron Smith (though to be fair I actually felt kind of bad. I know I know).

Biggest awws of the day – the Beav love obviously, Steve Bell and bb, Des Hasler’s general existance.

pic: LeagueHQ/Anthony Johnson

For thoughts on the actual game as well as more on the ‘entertainment’, you might get lucky with Kiki and Sassy’s upcoming GF observations. Stay tuned babies.

*Please forward all expressions of interest in dating me to lozzy[at]oherrol.com

Because you are all truly invested in my well being, lets begin with a Health Update! And god knows theres nothing more exciting than people talking about their health woes. CAN YOU HANDLE THE EXCITEMENT?

Thankfully, turns out I don’t have Ebola. So no Ben Hornby style bleeding from the eyes for me. It turns out I was vomming blood because I have…wait for it…an ulcerated eosphagus.  You know in cop shows theres always that one old crusty detective that’s all drinking coffee/booze/eating hotdogs and is all ’GODAMNIT! we have to solve this murder! I don’t have time for this ulcer shit!’. THAT’S ME! I am now literally a withered old wino. I’m feeling like death warmed up and have been schlepping around the office sooking up a storm. Intern John-John just hates to see people sad, so today he waltzed in wearing this outfit to cheer me up.

He’s so thoughtful! If sunflower nipple pasties can’t cheer a person up, what can? By the way, he doesn’t like us to talk about it, but John-John regularly visits hospital wards dressed like this to bring happiness and goodwill to sickypants people. Sadly occupational health and safety laws require him to wear pants, but he powers on regardless.

(by the way, he keeps grabbing me and saying ‘Look Kiki no hands..balloon goes up! balloon goes down…balloon goes up! BALLOON GOES UPPPP!’. How is he making it move like that? Mystery!)

My doctor alleges its all due to my love of booze and subsequent hungover Nurofen Plus taking but clearly he has no idea. I know whats up. Google tells me another cause of this condition is stress. You know what REALLY caused my tummy tube problem? THE BLOODY DRAGONS.

Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

Have I ever had stress related health problems in the off season? I think not! I have made many a joke about my boys giving me a stroke or a heart attack but now those inconsistent bitches have gone and literally ULCERATED MY INSIDES. Needless to say I am not a happy chicken after their weekend efforts. Not only did we publicly tip them on the radio two weeks in a row but they also killed me in the soul with their absolute lack of form. They embarassed me both personally AND professionally. No wonder I’m bleeding internally.

To be honest I don’t want to talk about the actual football. Except THAT WAS SO A TRY. You know it was. I watched the game at Sassy’s house. When I say ‘watched’ I mean curled up in the fetal position on the lounge peeking at the horror through my hands. I had never noticed just how physical my reactions to my team are until Sassy helpfully pointed out…KIKI! THE DRAGONS MAKE YOU GO FETAL! YOU’VE GONE FETAL SWEETIE! And it’s true. They kill me.

Thankfully, although the Dragons couldn’t seem to muster much of a performance…Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper came through with a performance all his own. A fine performance in the arse…I mean arts. He musta known I was crying sad sad tears, because he just busted out some of his best arse work to date. Don’t squish squish Kiki, look…look how pretty my bum is!

I’m looking Coops! Awww it’s LOVELY! Thanks baby, thanks. But that wasn’t enough for Hot Bitch…at one point he even SMILED for me!

Oh wait no…that’s just his usual grimace of deep seated unfulfillment. Damn.

I was a little worried about this game. Worried in the sense of ‘will I have mixed feelings because I do kinda like Manly?’. Well no, as soon as the whistle blew all I could see was red and white. Manly who? SMASH EM BOYS. But then Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale and Our Davey Williams had some sort of horrific ingoal collision and managed to both injure themselves and I cared about someone in Maroon again. In our minds they are part of the Errol family and here was not one but two of our boys writhing in pain. SHIT! Get the jaws of life! THIS IS BAD KIKI, THIS IS VERY VERY BAD shrieked Sassy. OH GOD I KNOW, yelled I. Thanks only to our fervent prayers to the Baby Jesus, our mans emerged from the trauma relatively unscathed.

Despite his awesome/slightly disturbing howling at the moon try, The Hot Pioneer well…he had some no-no times. He even caused Dessie to yell MOTHERFUCKER at one point. He really did, I saw it. My lip reading skills are exemplary.

David immediately regretted his decision to groom his beard during play

Don’t worry Davey, we still love you. You know who else loves you? MATTHEW JOHNS. We thought our obsession with you was bordering on creepy, but Matty’s takes the cake. The Crush Cake! Or is that the Mancrush Cake? Mmmmm…cake.

That bitch can barely contain his delight whenever Davey is on camera. Sassy called it ages ago, and as usual ERROL IS ALWAYS RIGHT. We thought our thrusting at the TV was bad, but on Saturday night Matty showed us how Creepy is really done. In the aftermath of the Howling @ The Moon Try, Matty moaned into his microphone -

“Oooooh and hes howling at the mooooon! AND HIS HAIR IS PERFECT! Rabs forget your man Steve Matai, Williams is MY MAAAAAAN!”

Ummmmm. Well…..well, I have no words. So lets use pictures instead.

(Note – Pls look at Davey returning the love with an arse slap. Whore! I knew I liked him for a reason. We are kindred spirits Y/N?)

In a yucky week for league, I feel it’s necessary to not only remind myself, but everyone else…that there is still heart warming awesomeness in league. And it’s no suprise it’s coming from Snuggliest Man Nominee, Prince Scotty the Caramel. There is a backstory to these photos, but really who cares? The important thing is…Scott Prince is in a tutu. I LOVE HIM.

goldcoast.com.au

Gosh, he’s pretty.

EDIT – One of our lovely fans, Bel, has alerted me to yet another example of league awesomeness. I think this even out does Scotty in tulle.

Illawarra Mecury

AMAZING. What can one even say about this? It’s awesomness almost transcends words.

But if you’re wondering, yes that is Jason Ryles dressed as Dell. And Big Dell inexplicably dressed as an angel. Two things…a) apparently blackface is still an acceptable form of dress up in Australia and b) doesn’t Big Dell fill out those white jocks well?

Well that’s it kittens. The very last time I can write about the Dragons for 2008. Needless to say I am now very much on Team Manly for the rest of the finals. Team Manly and Team Anyone-that-isn’t-the-Storm.

(Screencaps thanks to Lozzy, naked John-John from Naked For a Cause)

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.

WHEEEE! Tonight is Slumber Party Night at the Errol HQ.  Tomorrow at 9am Sassy + Kiki make their debut (as a duo) on the wireless. Yes kids, we totally have a one way ticket to ~*RADIO SUPERSTARDOM*~. And despite our arrogance confidence, we are a biiiiit nervy.

We need all the moral support we can get, so we have gathered the troops around the fire for a snugglefest. Errol snuggles are the best. We have just buttoned Work Experience Boy Lachie into his Superman onesie, Intern Brownie is melting cooking chocolate on the stove in preparation for our Brownie’s Special Hot Chocolates (extra marshmallows) and we finally convinced John-John to actually do up his terry towelling shorty robe. It’s a fetching shade of lavender with JJ embrodiered on the chest in gold thread. Really brings out his eyes.

But before we settle down for our High School Musical marathon we have to present the nominees for the Errol for Snuggliest Man in League. John-John brought his own selection of movies but well … let’s just say we have to save them for after Lachie’s bedtime. And he’s getting pretty sleepy, so lets get started.

Firstly, for the newbies who might be confused as to what a Snuggly Man is… let us revist our Polarfleece Award announcement -

There are all different types of attractiveness in this world. Men may not realise it, but ‘cute’ can mean a whole range of things. It’s possible to be intensely attracted to a man without immediately wanting him to put his penis in you. Yes really. When your first impulse is to take them to browse the soft furnishings section of Freedom, you have yourself a snuggly man.

JARRYD ‘BABY’ HAYNE

Do we really have to say anything?  Have you seen his face?  LOOK AT THAT FACE.  LOOK AT IT!

Who’s a pretty boy?  Are you a gorgeous boy?

If we really had to say anything, we’d say it’s a little bit the eyelashes, a little bit the dimples, and a little bit that he still has the teensiest bit of babyfat. Baby Hayne has footy player confidence mixed with an adorable vulnerability that makes us go SQUEEEE (as we did at Origin).  Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

ISSAC LUKE

pic: stuff.co.nz

Well first of all, we just love a man with Two First Names. And hair that resembles carefully designed topiary. We think it’s nice that he puts in that kind of effort. His cuteness defies mere words. Take one look at Issac’s precious little face. If you don’t immediately see why he deserves to be in this category then well … you should just give up on life. For realz.

SCOTT PRINCE (aka Prince Scotty The Caramel)

goldcoast.com.au

Ohhhh Scotty. How we love thee! His extreme preciousness is even more remarkable considering he’s a DIRTY QUEENSLANDER. BOOO! HISSSSS! Usually we love it when Queenslanders suffer horrific injuries during Origin, but when Scotty snapped his teeny caramel arm in half at Origin 3 our hearts broke into little pieces. Kiki had a broken arm at the same time and likes to think this synchronicity means her and Scotty are somehow cosmically connected. Sadly she broke her arm running across the street to a gay bar at 5am and not representing her state in front of 80,000 people. But some would say they are both heroes … and we have to agree.

Scotty inspires big snuggle times. He combines intense cuteness with a cheekiness that makes our hearts go boom boom. We especially adore his ManLove affair with Benji Marshall. So much so that Sassy made a beautiful/touching/really creepy tribute video. Pls watch it immediately k thanks.

smh.com.au

JASON ‘FLOSSY’ NIGHTINGALE

FLOOSSSSSY! We love love LOVE our Flossy. He gives us no feeling at all in our vajayjays, just in our hearts. Feelings of snuggles, flannelette PJs and non-sexual hair stroking.

We have christened him the labrador of rugby league. He embodies everything one loves about labs- enthusiasm, cuddliness and boundless energy. Not to mention the big dopey eyes and the shiny blonde hair. And you know if given the chance he would totally lick you on the face. AND YOU WOULD TOTALLY LET HIM.

BEN ‘HORNBAG’ HORNBY

Getty Images

I’m sure our regular readers are well aware of our Ben Hornby obsession. For the uninitiated, we here at Errol think our beloved Hornbag is vastly underrated…as a player and as a Cute Man.  Just because he’s pale like milk and his eyelashes/eyebrows/facial hair are invisible from a distance. I mean really. That is NO REASON to leave him out. Bastards!

Cuteness doesn’t only come in Daniel Conn shaped packages people. The Errol kiddies are all inclusive…we love everyone (except the Storm). The rangas, the fatties, the drunks and the under appreciated – WE LOVE YOU ALL!

There are two different types of Hornbag. Snuggly Hornbag and Despot Hornbag. Read about the intricate differences here. Obviously Snuggly Hornbag is the one in the running here.

Okay truthfully … we can’t really explain this one. WE JUST LOVE HIM OKAY? Don’t question us.

Needless to say there may be some tears in the judging room on the night before the Errols – this is a tough bitch of a category.  We invite all nominees to drop by the the Errol offices for a snuggle in the office beanbag to help us reach our decision. We promise to keep our hands to ourselves …. maybe.

Oh children. Intern John-John Williams is officially Not Happy. You see, part of his job is monitoring our site traffic. Usually he does this quite happily but the past week has been awfully hard for him. It’s safe to say last weeks Hot Man News has been a raging success. Much to John-John’s chagrin, the people have gone Kayne Lawton craaaaazy. So much so that whenever you google ‘Kayne Lawton’ now, Errol appears on the first page. And OH how the people have been googling, clicking…and then possibly wanking.

Our boy John-John doesn’t deal well with competition. He’s been throwing diva sized tantrums all week. We can handle tantrums, but we began to get really worried when the sulking started. Usually he bops round the office in shorty shorts singing Donna Summer, but yesterday I found him curled up in front of the stereo wailing to ’What About Me?’ (the Nollsy version) and demolishing a tub of ice cream. With Intern Brownies crochet blanket concealing his perfect body! Things are DIRE.

We desperately needed to cheer him up, so we deemed today would be Tropical Tuesday! Theme days are John-Johns favourite. Work Experience Boy Lachlan Coote has lit the tiki torches (we were cautious about letting a minor play with fire, but he insisted), Intern Brownie has whipped up some potent fruit punch and us girls are rocking some fierce coconut bikinis and hibiscus leis. John-John just made a decidedly grand entrance clad only in a floral sarong.

Usually I would tell him floral sarongs are for ladies, but in his fragile emotional state I can’t risk it. Instead I’ve decided to make him feel super special and sit him down for a one on one interview. At his request we are both squished into one bean bag. We care not for proper chairs at Errol.

K - John John! My darling. How are you?

J- Better now. I love Tropical Tuesday. Do you want to get leid? GET IT? LEID! It’s funny because you’re wearing one.

K- Yes I get it.

J- Well do you?

K- Not right now. Let’s talk about you. Your Gods Of Football segment was on the Footy Show last week…how did it go?

J- Hmmm. It was okay.

K- Just okay? But you love modelling John-John!

J- I know I know. But Kiki they made me … oh God I can’t even say it. It’s too awful.

*buries face in hands*

K- Made you what baby?? Did they hurt you?

J- No no … they … well they made me wear clothes. CLOTHES KIKI!! THEY BURN! THEY BURRRRRN!

K- Oh dear. You poor kitten. I bet you weren’t happy with that.

J- I sure wasn’t. Look how sad I was!

K- Oh my god they made you wear a shirt AND pants?? That is just cruel. We should call Amnesty International.

J- I don’t know what that is. But okay.

K- I see they put you in some jaunty fisherman pants. At least you got to be shirtless in some photos.

J- Yeh I guess. Why are they called ‘fisherman pants’? I never wear pants when I go fishing.

K- Well no. But you never wear pants full stop.

J - I don’t get why I couldn’t just be in the nuddy. Last year I was. The only thing I was wearing was grease! Get it Kiki … I WAS ONLY WEARING GREASE PAINT! COZ I WAS NAKED!

K- Yes … I get it. But last year was Naked For A Cause. This is a different calendar entirely.

J - Can we make our 2009 Errol calendar a nakey one?

K- I think that is implied. I dunno if we can include Lachie though. We don’t wanna get in trouble like Bill Henson.

J - Henson…?? Like where the Jets play?

K- NO! Damnit! John-John if you actually read the newspaper you would get my jokes more regularly. Ummm…honey….your sarong. Stuff is err…hanging out. Fix yourself up please!

J- FINE! I’LL FIX IT! Why is everyone so mean to me lately?

K - Aaww. It’s okay. Tell me more about the photoshoot. Did you smile at all ?

J- Yes. When they weren’t looking I stripped off and felt heaaaaaps better.

K- Aaaw see that’s the John-John we know and love! Did you miss us when you were away?

J- YES! So much. I tried to call you using a shell … you know how Ron does in Anchorman?? But you never turned up.

K- Uhhh…..

J- What? Hey….Kiki… can I twist your coconuts?

K- No John. I think it’s time you got back to work.

(Images from The Footy Show , Naked for A Cause, Artie and the incredible Gods of Football website . Intern John-John and I demand you go and check it out. The Jane McGrath foundation is a a great cause and we should all support it.)

I’m sure you’ve all been on the edge of your seats, eagerly waiting in antici…pation for more words from the mouths of footy babes (and I obviously don’t use that word in the “Jonathon Taylor Thomas is suuuuch a babe” way. I never could get on the JTT lovetrain btw). So here I am, the Newest Manly Fan, serving up observations on a game that, first of all, I had to watch online after John John ‘accidentally’ locked the Foxtel to Adults Only. Poor Lachie got the shock of his life when he tuned in for Meerkat Manor on Monday morn. Luckily we were still up drinking awake early enough to calm him down and read Where Did I Come From? from cover to cover.

And after all that the internets wouldn’t let me watch the second half, so not only am I a footy retard (but a FAST LEARNING and ENTHUSIASTIC retard, thank you), I’m also going on half a game here. It kind of reminds me of that scene in Nine Months where they go to see the obstetrician, but there’s a Russian Robin Williams filling in who can barely speak English and specialises in primates. I am the Russian Monkey Obstetrician of footy posts.

But that’s ok, because there’s only a few things we need to talk about.

The boys went all Where’s Wally on us

Apparently this was in honour of Steve ‘Beaver’ Menzies last home game, the red & white sockies representing his junior club. Because I saw the pics before the game, I was not aware of this. I just thought they were trying new fashionz. And I approve! They all looked so charming. Stripey socks add so much to the heinous predominantly maroon uniform. Someone organise for stripey socks to be warn at all times, toot sweet. Tee hee, toot.

The Hot Pioneer broke a face

We always knew Our Davey’s beard was luxurious – now we know it’s also made of STEEL. Or at least his chin is. There was BLOOD guys. And Dave was completely unharmed! He clearly has the best face protection system evs.

If I was slightly more insane, I’d say I almost sensed a hint of evil from the beard and that if it had hands, they would’ve been rubbing together with glee after that effort. The Beard Has Two Faces, for reals. It’s kind of like when you see a puppy and you’re all ‘awww who’s a cutie?’, next thing it’s attached to your Tencel jeans trying to bite through their silky soft 90′s goodness for a juicy chunk of skin. Honest to god, I haven’t pet a random dog in the street since. Unfort it didn’t stop me from wearing Tencel jeans for at least 4 more years.

Anyway, Davey’s face is lovely AND dangerous. A guy like youuu, should wear a warniiiiing.

Steve brought his lady and bb out

I’m sure ovaries and hearts all over the stadium exploded. And upon seeing these pics, YES EVEN MINE. God, you think you’ve whipped them into passivity and then this happens.

pics: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

I’m rather concerned about how the boys will go once Steve leaves to be honest. I mean that in terms of their emotional states and not, you know, their game playing. Who’s Matt Ballin gonna carpool with now? What if once Beaver is no longer part of the Manly clubhouse furniture it’s just like in Wet Hot American Summer where they all become smackies within like, an hour (I like to relate pretty much everything in real life to movies and tv, just by the way)? How will Des use the silent treatment on THAT shit?

Fiiiiight!

Well, at least we know the boys can hold their own should they end up on frequenting crack dens:

pic: SGT at ManlySeaEagles.com

pic: Craig Golding/LeagueHQ.com.au

I didn’t actually SEE this because it was in the second half, but I suspect it had something to do with the Oh Errol Awards. Guys, enough with the infighting. There’s enough of us to go around, k? Unfortunately not enough awards, but there’s always next year. If you build it, we will come (shut up John John).

So there you have it – belated In Depth coverage of a Monday game, on Friday. If there’s something Really Important that I’m missing, or you just want to tell me off for saying absolutely nothing about football, then leave a comment yo.

edit: wow, um, I can’t believe I didn’t mention that MANLY WON. Worst. fan. ever.

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]

That title would’ve been much cuter if I’d posted this yesterday and called it Chest Hair Tuesday, but it was just impossible to find a moment between getting Work Experience Boy Lachlan settled and snuggled, and Intern John-John constantly dragging us outside to watch him do ‘The Dolphin’ in the pool. YES WE’RE LOOKING JOHN JOHN. YES WE DO WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN.

pic: boyculture.typepad.com

You might have gathered that we’re avid cheerleaders of the beard. Some might call us Beard Enthusiasts. Well, our hair appreciation also travels south (no, not that far south. I only talk about that on weekends. Well that’s a lie, but not today kids) – we love a good rug. Whoever decided mans should wax their chests (or you know, anything at all) needs to be throttled. Speaking of hair removal, this reminds me I need to have a talk with John-John about the tube of Nair I bought last week and then found empty in his bum-bag. I suspect he wasn’t using it on his chest though, so that’s a plus I guess.

I suppose I kind of get it though, even if I do disapprove with a fiery hot intensity. There’s some amazing chest forestry out there and if you’re a guy who can only manage randomly scattered puffs of hair no matter how many Skin, Hair & Nails vitamins you take, it’s easier just to shave it off and pretend you COULD have a silky covering of man-fur but just CHOOSE NOT TO OK. Like guys who pretend they haven’t heard of/are too cool for Movember when they don’t want to show the world their pissweak mo effort.*

In an effort to groom our entire male readership to exactly our liking (after which we shall take over the woooorld), and more importantly to please ourselves, we’d like to provide some Hairy Role Models.

Let’s start with some vintage fur – Burt Reynolds**

That right there is one of the most famous chest rugs, no? Not ‘famous’ in the sense that it’s attached to a well-known actor, but famous of it’s own accord. I honestly can’t (though it’s possible that by ‘can’t’ I actually mean ‘won’t') recall a Burt movie where his chest hair hasn’t acted alongside him, emoting on cue like a true pro.

I think it’s best performance though is during Burt and Dolly’s Sneakin Around number in The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (can’t wait for those google searches). We like beer and rodeos, detective books and dominoes, football games and Cheerios too Burt! YouTube also blessed me with what is titled “burt reynolds in a group shower scene”. HOW DID IT KNOW I’D ENJOY THAT? I have no idea where it’s from – the only description is the mysterious and non-helpful ‘from a silent movie’ – but let’s not ask questions and just enjoy Burt soapin’ his rug.

A more current chest hair representative is Mark Ruffalo, who we think of as the thinking woman’s hot bitch. Oh Maaaark.

pic: markruffalo.net

Sometimes our favourite mans really disappoint us in the chest hair department though. Yes Kyle Chandler, I am looking at you. Bitch is known for his amazing head of hair which, like Burt’s rug, emotes accordingly and always professionally.

“I cannot believe you’re getting me involved in this Lozzy”, says Kyle Chandler’s Hair

But apparently Kyle’s body spends so much time attending to his scalp, meticulously giving each strand of hair the strength of a small army and talent of the Actor’s Studio, that it forgets everywhere else. Kyle Chandler is quite hairless. We know this because the interns trawled through screencaps, pics of him wearing lowcut shirts and videos of 90′s TV appearances until the wee hours of the morning for us. Without us even asking! They are so creepy.

Speaking of unexpected hairlessness, this has all got me rather concerned about one of our Oh Errol faves Shillo. We’ve expressed our appreciation for his rockin the chest hair in Gods of Football, but on close inspection (it would’ve been closer but Lachie lost our magnifying glass outside while looking for ladybugs) of last week’s shirt lift, Shillo is looking frighteningly hairless in comparison.

pic: hotaussiefootyplayersshirtless.blogspot.com

Darlin, have the rest of the boys been whispering poor advice on body hair in your ear, or are our eyes playing tricks on us? Please let it be the latter.

*Of course none of this applies to men who are either blondies with pale baby-duck downs or are just naturally rather hairless. Or, you know, underage. It’s wanting to be a hairless cat on purpose that bothers us. As for Movember, IT’S FOR A GOOD CAUSE GUYS. Whether you can grow a good one or not is not the point. Though we will most certainly mock those with pissweak mo’s, it’s from a place of deep love and appreciation. And thirst for lolz.

**I had another pic here but it was scaring the interns every time they scrolled down, so it had to be changed. Clicky if the mystery is killing you.

I was supposed to go to this game. For once in my life I was home before 3am, wanting to get a good nights sleep before the drive down to the Gong. I drank a litre of water and ate some healthful vegemite toast. Okay that’s a lie. I made the cabbie take me through Maccas drive thru and I had two cheeseburgers, large fries and a giant coke before I fell asleep on the lounge watching the Crime Channel. But! HOME BEFORE 3AM PEOPLE! This is how much I love my Dragons.

I woke up the next day all bright eyed and bushy tailed and Ready To Go. No crippling hangover to weather! I felt so…. unnauseated. Is this what normal people feel like every weekend? Amazing. Just as I was deciding which Dragons merchandise to put on, my Dad announces he feels sick and we are no longer going. And yes I do go to the football with my father, don’t judge me…he buys the beers.

So, disappointed and a bit pissed off I wasted valuable early morning drinking hours, I settle in to watch the game. My my WIN Stadium looks pretty today. It’s Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper’s favourite stadium. True story! I’ve decided more footy stadiums need ocean views. It’s just so damn pretty. I am a scenery bandit, what can I say? I just love a beautiful vista!

The game kicks off and I am immediately grateful for Dad’s mysterious illness. THERE ARE SEAGULLS EVERYWHERE! ARRRRGH! FLAPPING THEIR GIANT WINGS OF FILTH! They aren’t of normal size. Or even birds. Those are freakin pterodactyls! I have a Serious bird phobia. It’s not one of those manufactured idiosyncrasies that lame people invent in an attempt to give themselves some sort of personality. Oh no. Everytime one flaps by I get shivers down my spine and scream bloody murder. Give me a snake any day.

When I was in Year 4 I was forced to work in the school aviary and I got BIRD LICE. Bird lice!! Who gets bird lice? It’s so…..ye olde times. Like I contracted it en route to Van Diemens Land as punishment for stealing a loaf of bread from Lord Dudley of Englishtown.Errr…where we we? The football? Right. First things first, seemingly at my request, Ben ‘Hornbag’ Hornby has finally relinquished his hair clippers of doom and let his hair grow to a normal length. Yes Hornbag YES! This is good! I also notice Stuart Webb has taken time out from his humiliating TV appearances to play in the number 9 jersey today.

9 minutes in, Fein punts a beautiful kick into the in goal which Big Dell easily cleans up. He is all over the high ball isn’t he? Brent Tate attempts to tackle Dell and ends up with an elbow of granite to the throat, temporarily crushing his windpipe. He lies on the ground rolling around attempting to breathe. My bloodlust gets the better of me and I stifle a laugh. Bet he’ll never try to tackle Dell like that again. AH-HAH!

League HQ

I notice Wade McKinnon looks quite fetching in his Ruben Wiki Tribute Beard. He was never attractive before, was he? Well he is now. The mysterious power of the beard! Everyone thought Our Davey Williams was a lone bearded nutter, but bitch knows whats up. The commentators discuss ‘the Warriors beard mystery’ and wonder what the deal is. UM. I THOUGHT EVERYONE KNEW. We have known for weeks! Silly boys. Too busy concentrating on insignificant things like rules and statistics to pay attention to the REALLY important things like players facial hair. GOD! Clearly they need us. Call me Gus?

Sandra Mu/ Getty Images

Apparently Wade’s beard has migrated to other parts of his body, forming some sort of hair suit. I think I like it.

Rabs announces Jerome Ropati ‘goes in and nails his man’ and I giggle. Hehehe…nails his man. It’s funny coz it’s homoerotic. The crowd roars every time Big Dell gets the ball. The man is a bulldozer on legs! Dozin the bulls! Solomana is nothing but a speedbump. Aaaah I love watching Dell play. After much pestering from me, Intern Brownie finally let him play two weeks in a row. SEE BROWNIE! I TOLD YOU HE WAS AWESOME!

The Dragons attack is looking confident. Lots of short sharp passing. I like this boys. Their confidence pays off when Hot Bitch steams through and scores an awesome try in the 18th minute. Set up by Hornbag, scored by Hot Bitch! My babies! I rub my eyes in disbelief…is that Hot Bitch smiling? EMOTING? He seems different. Cocky even. I check with my pants and they approve of this new development. Gus seems to have developed a bit of a crush too. He describes him as a ‘big powerful man’ and announces that Coops should watch video of that try every night before he goes to sleep.

What a coincidence! I too watch videos of Hot Bitch Cooper every night before I ‘go to bed’. I have a whole collection in fact. My favourite is ‘Wet, Dirty and In White – Volume 3′. It’s a classic.

Gaz easily converts the try. It’s 6-0.

The commentators crack my shit up by discussing the heinousness of Brent Tate’s pitiful ginger beard. Rabs moans something like ‘ooooh those metres taste gooood’. That’s pervy right? It’s not just me? Okay…maybe it’s just me. The Dragons attacking brilliance continues and Joshie Morris scores a cracker of a try. I rejoice then cry silent tears. DON’T LEAVE US JOSHIE! My heart can’t take losing one of my twinnies. I won’t stand for it. Next year I am going to sneak into dogs territory, kidnap Josh and bring him back home to the Dragons. Plus it will give me an excuse to wear that fierce cat burglar outfit I’ve been saving. Sweet.

Rabs informs us it’s Josh’s birthday today. AND! He then helpfully announces its his identical twin Brett’s birthday too. AMAZING! Twins sharing a birthday, what’s next? Me pashing inappropriate people? Oh Rabs, I could not love you more. Gaz misses the conversion. It’s 10 nil.

I notice Logan Swann has one of the greatest names in rugby league. It’s so delightfully soap star. I can imagine him heroically rescuing me from a warehouse fire only to be poisoned into a coma by his meglomaniac uncle (who is also secretly his father). He is now in direct competition with Beau Champion and Ray Cashmere in the names-to-envy stakes.

26 minutes and the Warriors go in for a try via a Ropira offload to a speedy McKinnon. Witt’s conversion is successful. 33 minutes and Hot Bitch goes in for another try. WOOOO! He smiles…again. Twice in one game. This in unheard of.

My joy quickly turns into rage when I realise Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale is lying prone on the ground thanks to a nasty (and unecessary) shoulder from McKinnon. My heart leaps out of my chest. THAT BASTARD! No one hurts my Flossy! I take back all the nice things I said about you Wade. Also, maybe if you were concentrating on making a proper tackle and not just hurting someone you woulda you know….saved the try. I like Flossy at fullback. He returns the ball from kicks with such enthusiasm. Like a labrador playing fetch in someones backyard. It’s bloody adorable.

League HQ

Gaz converts. We go halftime at 16-6.

My phone rings. It’s a video call from newly minted Intern John-John Williams! He tells me he is still so!excited! about his promotion from work experience boy to intern. The paper captain hat has been on for two days now. Baby is so thrilled about his new workplace opportunities that he serenades me Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5. I love it when John-John does half time entertainment.

Annnnnd we’re back!

Nothing of much note happens until Dean Young goes in for a try at the 56th minute. Go Youngy! I am not an arse connoisseur, but The Gays tell me Dean Young has ‘the perfect arse’. Let’s examine this claim further.

Okay yes, that is pretty damn nice. Good for you Dean…a try AND a great arse. What more could a boy want? Gaz converts. Damn he is having a good game today. It galls me. I kinda wish he was all useless and crap so I could feel okay about him leaving. SIGGGH.

At some point Hot Bitch Cooper goes down with an apparent groin injury. Rabs announces it’s definitely the groin because ‘lets just say he didn’t let the trainer rub it’. OH GOD THIS IS TOO EASY. I don’t even have to make the joke. I will however say that this is yet another reason why female trainers are needed. I nominate myself. Obviously for the pervy groin rubbing reasons, but also because I am good with blood, injuries and grossness. As long as they don’t vomit. Then they’re on their own.

Someone called Matalina lands an absolutely massive hit on my Hornbag. For the second time today my heart leaps out of my chest. NOT MY HORNBAG! As usual, Benny gets right back up. No milking penalties for my boy. He might look innocuous but bitch is tough as nails.

66 minutes, Gaz pulls off a brilliant offload and sends Joshie Morris in for his second try. Successful conversion, its 22-6. The Warriors try alot of things but nothing seems to stick. 72 minutes and Gaz further annoys me with his awesomeness by passing a freakish flick pass to a flying Flossy, who scores easily under the posts. Complete with a full (and unecessary) commando roll accessorised by a giant goofy smile. Aaaah he really is labrador. Can’t you just imagine him wearing a jaunty red bandanna?

Gaz converts and its 34-6. Bloody Gasnier and his magic. I shake my fist at the TV.

As the game winds down Big Dell gives us yet another reason to adore him. After running across field to assist his team mates in mongreling a Warrior into touch he bends down to help him up. AAAH! Only in rugby league. Gus announces it’s stuff like this that makes it a ‘great game’. And that we will survive no matter what. Sing it Gloria!