man-kissing, hot chips and adventures in canberra

June 13th, 2010

Well, that was an eventful few weeks. We leave the internet for 10 days and all hell breaks loose.

What was meant to happen in the last week was this: we would head down to our nation’s capital for the Raiders vs Titans, do a little bit of work, relax a little, maybe hit up Questacon or ride bikes around Lake Burley-Griffin, and head home. Then we’d do some typey-typey for some new projects we’re working on and come back to Errol as if nothing had happened.


In the interim league went fucking insane. First Billy Slater and Jarryd Hayne got involved in a Melbourne vs Parramatta headbutt spite-fest at Parramatta Stadium. This, as we all know led to the Gayest Fight in Football History.

No, we don’t mean ‘gay’ as a derogatory term. We love gays. We mean it literally. Fierce bitch Cooper Cronk was not having any of this, and ran in to protect his fullback Billy Slater. Have you seen his face? We wouldn’t want anyone headbutting it either. He’s adorable. So far, so logical.

We saw Cooper running in … then Cooper diving onto Headbutt Hayne, and then ….

ARE THEY MAKING OUT? (yes, we did actually yell that at the tv).

Apparently the internet was equally confused/amused, because a complete genius came up with this:

Oh internet, how we love you.

We also especially enjoyed when Cam Smith gave the world a lesson in sportsmanship. First he yelled at the ref “WE CAN’T WIN THE PREMIERSHIP, WHO CARES WHAT WE DO?” He then threw an Errol-worthy tantrum and quit that whole shit.

Can’t win? Don’t try.

We can’t wait till that image is used in motivational posters in offices all over Melbourne.

And, of course, the tension resulted in two of the prettiest boys in history to ever share the sin-bin: Dan Dan Mortimer and Billy Slater. Surely people that pretty don’t belong in the bin? Evidently Billy agrees, because bitch was pissed.

The dramas didn’t stop at Parra vs Storm, though. There have feelingz happening all over the NRL. At Brookie, injury is taking it’s toll on Dave Williams. The man that … well, people who aren’t us like to call ‘the Wolfman’, is not dealing well with being a sideline fixture.

We interviewed Daveypants 2 weeks ago for the NRL and he seems so, so sad. His poor little arm is still in a sling and he is the saddest panda of all pandas in history. It took all our strength not to hug him.

It’s no suprise he has turned to comfort eating. Specifically, comfort eating chips on the sideline. The saddest part of all was when he offered one to Jamie Lyon and was brutally rebuffed. WAY TO MAKE HIM FEEL LIKE A PIG, JAMIE.

Meanwhile we were down in the Nation’s capital hustling and getting ready to watch the Raiders vs Titans. In a moment of perfect timing by the universe, we needed to interview the baby Raiders AND Titan’s coach John Cartwright. So on Sunday morning we headed off the pick up Carty and take him for a coffee and a chat. The only problem? Literally NOTHING is open in Canberra at 9.30am in Canberra.

What the hell, ACT? It was like a nuclear apocalypse took place and no one told us.

Not even WANGS massage was open, although at least it gave us a few lolz.

In the end, intrepid Carty led us into a food court, to find a tiny tiny window called the House of Vitality. Kiki ordered a diet coke, to which Carty said “a Diet Coke? …. for breakfast? Shouldn’t you at least have a normal coke for nutritional value?”

Kiki’s only answer was SHUT UP I’M HUNGOVER. She ordered the Diet Coke anyway.

What’s more glamorous than doing an interview with an NRL coach in a food court? Pretty much nothing. For reals.

Next stop was Bruce Stadium for Raiders vs Titans. For Sydney girls, going to Bruce Stadium is so … so weird. Actually, Canberra is weird to us. It’s all organised, and tidy, and convenient. All the suburbs have different names, but they’re only like two blocks apart and EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP.

Two voddies and a beer for $12? $5 parking at the footy? $13 for a pizza and two Diet Cokes? Yes, please. It’s developing world prices without all the pesky airline travel and vaccinations.

As we drove into the Bruce Stadium carpark a friendly dude pointed out that Sassy’s bonnet was askew and maybe not closed properly. When she admitted it was just wonky from her bad driving, he came out with I HIT A KANGAROO ONCE. IT’S HEAD POPPED RIGHT OFF. I KILLED IT, BY THE WAY. Oh, Canberra. Nothing cheers us up like an animal decapitation story. Turns out it really did make Sassy feel better about her driving.

That, and a stadium with seats close enough to hear the OOF when two men tackles.

Wait, make that a decapitation, Bruce Stadium, and our new bestie in the next row down.

We asked Josh McCrone about this: “… definitely from Queanbeyan. He’s probably Campo’s neighbour”.

Then as a farewell to the ‘Berra, we met a few of the baby Raiders for interviews after recovery on Monday: Jarrod Croker, Daniel Vidot, Josh McCrone and Shaun Fensom. WE ARE IN LOVE. Four of the most hilarious, humble footy players you’ll meet (if you ignore Dan Vidot’s love for a glamorous self-portrait. He really, really loves them. Especially if they involve shirtlessness, which is fair enough. Have you seen him? He’s a total spunk).

McCrone and Crokes – actually all the boys really – are fucking hilarious. Shaun Fensom managed to burn Kiki within ten seconds of meeting her. We like his hustle. We also especially enjoyed Croker and Vidot taking the piss out of each other about their Adventures in Hair Highlights.

Apologies to the boys for springing it ON TAPE that some of them are gay icons, and to Shaun Fensom in particular for Kiki stroking his pretty hair like a massive creep. The trickiest part was convincing them to have their photos taken to go with the story – Dan Vidot only wanted pre-approved images that he’d had taken earlier included in the mag. He’s so J.Lo. We loves him

And Crokes was traumatised because his hair looked ‘shit’ (it didn’t, it looked messy and cute…bed hair!), he hadn’t shaved, and his shorts were soaking wet. “But I’ve got a beard! Can’t you come back another day and take them?”


But probably the highlight of our trip was telling Trevor Thurling of the huge section of his fan base who refer to him as Trevor “Sex Machine” Thurling.

According to google, this is what a Sex Machine looks like:

Trevor, is that you?

This story led to us hearing Shaun Fensom utter the words “yeah, I lived with a family when I first got here, now I live with Sex Machine”. Awesome.

Try not to die waiting, but the story will be out in the next issue of Rugby League Player mag. and in the meantime, here’s a picture of Josh McCrone being a hilarious human and posing comically in front of a palm tree. So awesome. Doesn’t he look like Prince Harry? He totally looks like Prince Harry. Till next time kittens! xx

Big thanks to our favourite media manager and one of our favourite humans, Ben Pollack, for hooking us up the whole weekend. And thankyou to the boys for being generally awesome. WE LOVE YOU RAIDERS!

Thanks to the brilliant Cronkster for the caps. LEGEND!

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origin 2010: we’re back bitches!

May 18th, 2010

Have you missed us darlings? I know, I know, it’s been a whole week and a half without any new Errol goodness in your lives.

Surprisingly, no, it’s not cause we were busy in our bunker sitting at a big judging desk, arguing, looking at photos, doing Tyra Banks impersonations, and picking the NSW Origin team. Although, Planet Eels suggested on twitter that we should be on the NSW selection panel, and to that we say YES PLEASE. CALL US ON YOUR COCONUT PHONE LAURIE DALEY, WE CAN FLY OUT IMMEDIATELY.

What we’ve actually been doing is dying slowly. The entire Errol office has come down with a hideous Ebola-like infection of death. We’ve been sleeping roughly 20 hours a day, coughing, wheezing, crying, moaning, and generally not being allowed out of our sanitary bubbles in case we infect the rest of the world. I’m actually kinda surprised no one has bled from the eyes or seen a vision of Jesus.

Needless to say, it’s kind of hard to blog when you can’t even make proper sentences. But thanks to the wonders of horse-strength antibiotics I’m vaguely upright, just in time to talk about Origin.

Come on down the boys in blue!

Kurt Gidley (capt)

Brett Morris

Matt Cooper

Timana Tahu

Jarryd Hayne

Jamie Lyon

Brett Kimmorley

Michael Weyman

Michael Ennis

Josh Perry

Trent Waterhouse

Ben Creagh

Anthony Watmough


Jamal Idris

Tom Learoyd-Lahrs

Luke Lewis

Brett White

… come on down so we can judge you.


Ah, Gidley, we meet again. Having met Gidley, once, for about 30 seconds, I can confirm he is a human, speaks English and has two arms and two legs. Other than that, I know nothing special about him, but everyone says he is “a good bloke” (which is the greatest compliment an Australian can give) and a great captain and all-around footy-playing champ.

But he’s also Not Jarryd Hayne. Is he?

My flatmate Denee hates football, and all football-related things. They confuse and annoy her. But last night when I saw the Origin announcement and yelled “HOW CAN YOU HAVE A DALLY M WINNING FULLBACK AND NOT PLAY HIM AT FULLBACK?” even she said “… well that just makes no sense”.


And having watched last night’s game, apparently the writers at nrl.com would agree with her. Can’t say anymore than that.


We’re gonna say it, you knew we would. B.MOZZZZZZZ! MOZZIE MOZZIE MOZZIE! Without doubt the best winger right now based on form. Not to mention polite and lovely and all things sunshiney in this world. When B.Moz scores a try, angels lose their necks and get their wings.

And when B.Moz plays outside Hot Bitch Cooper … you can guess that bit. We’re defending this choice all the way, kids. Remember Hot Bitch’s tries at ANZ in 2008? We do. Our pants do too. When he’s in form he’s a menacing defender and massively strong and seeing him in form, in sky blue, restores our faith in the world.

Timana Tahu, on the other hand, makes us feel kinda nervous. As the ever-eloquent Daniel Anderson put it, at the beginning of the season he was “rubbish”. Fair call, coach. He’s an experienced player though, and he’s improved, and God knows he’s stacked like a block of flats. If he lifts to rep level then maybe – just maybe – NSW’s backline has a chance of stopping the rampaging wildebeest Greg Inglis. Maybe.

(We’re already doing our part and sticking pointy little Errol pins into our GI voodoo doll. We made it out of light grey felt. It’s surprisingly life-like).

Which brings us to our Dally M winning fullback. On the wing. He’s a bit unpredictable in the regular season, and lots of people hate him. So he’s kind of  … the Anthony Watmough of outside backs. But he also totally lifts for Origin – like Watmough – and we approve of this.

We can’t say anything else about him except DAMMIT YOU WERE ROBBED FOR THAT TRY LAST YEAR JARRYD-WITH-A-Y. ps our friend Kate thinks you look like Rihanna. She’s right.

What up Jarryd? I like yo bob.


Well, well, what up Jamie Lyon! So your torture at the hands of the blues selectors continues.

Remember when you said you didn’t want to play Origin last year, and they made you play?

And remember when you said you wanted to play in the centres this year, and they put you in the halves?

Every time I say ‘centres’ I think of chocolate. Then I remember I can’t taste anything. MOTHERFUCKER.

Oh, how they must have laughed!

Jamie probably does deserve to be in the team – remember his defence last year? – plus he can kick those pesky goals. We’d rather him in the centres but then … who plays five-eighth? Our beloved Terry Campese isn’t exactly in form (sorry T.Camps!). Maybe Trent Barrett? Brett Finch is Origin kryptonite. And John Sutton … plays for the Rabbitohs. Ugh. If we were in charge we would totally put Barrett in the team just because there’s a chance that he might hit Greg Inglis in the face again.

If anyone wants to run for NSW Parliament on that platform, by the way, I’d totally vote for you.

Meanwhile, when Queensland sit down to pick their halfback, they’re choosing between Johnathan Thurston, Scott Prince and Cooper Cronk. In NSW we choose between Kimmorley (this isn’t meant to be offensive Noddy), crippled Mitchell Pearce, and recently returned from crippledom Jarrod Mullen and Peter Wallace. I won’t even include Todd Carney in contention for any position because I’m too worried about him stressing out and hitting the booze again, and Trent Hodkinson is, like, 12 years old. DAMN that shit is depressing.  Should we put in another centre? Josh Morris, you busy?

While you’re deciding, feel free to sign my petition to bring back Joey Johns. He looks totally match fit!  It’ll totally work!


Where God injures a halfback or three, he replaces them with 85 awesome back rowers. Between Watmough, Waterhouse, Creagh, O’Donnell, Gallen (ew, Sharks),  Hindmarsh, Laffranchi, Lewis, Learoyd-Lahrs, hell even Greg Bird, NSW literally has enough second rowers for three Origin teams.

We woulda put Lewis in the starting side, (and O’Donnell if he was fit cause damn that boy loves to fight) but we are happy x 1000 to see Watmough and Creagh in there. Watmough is MADE for Origin. He’s a sky blue dynamo. And when Ben Creagh runs the ball we deadset get occasional flashbacks of the Beav. Future Origin Hero. Trust.


First of all – WEYMAN! Has there ever been a more deserved first Origin call-up? Weyman’s gone from playing like 30 minutes max to being a blues frontrunner. And we feel weirdly … proud. Proud because we love a big fat footy dynamo, and weird in that the first ever thing he said to us was “I fucking hate journalists”. It was a joke, but still it’s lucky we’re:

a) not actually journalists

b) not easily offended.

Prove us right, Michael. Prove. Us. Right.

And secondly … good God, Josh Perry? Is this what we’ve come to? Where the hell are the NSW front rowers? Can someone not hurry up and clone an invincible George Rose so we can play him as a starting prop and on the bench? To quote our mate Greg, “Perry’s a pillow. A marshmallow. And not even a good Pascall one either”.

From now on, he shall be known as Home Brand Perry.


One word. Jamal. Forget where they’re gonna play him, we are currently taking bets on what super-amazing Origin hairstyle he’s gonna rock. I feel like the next progression from his tight pigtails at Country Origin is the full bun:

So what do we think overall? We live in hope. LET’S GO BLUES!

What about you kittens?

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footy observations: sassy’s favourite things

March 4th, 2010

It’s just a fiesta of a week this week. It’s as though the Universe designed it specifically with me in mind. WHAT WOULD SASSY LIKE TO SEE?

Well it pretty much goes like this:


The NRL made it official that the footy season is back with a booze-free launch extravaganza on Wednesday (also known as a Brett Stewart drylaunch). Oh, football, my sweaty, infuriating, sometimes violent boyfriend. I’m so glad you’re back.

I’m also so glad that you decided to announce your return by making all the team’s captains and representatives stand in full uniform on a barge in the middle of Sydney harbour with a huge mock NRL trophy. Yes, people, this is what happiness looks like:

Pic. Ryan Osland

Also, HI ALAN TONGUE. We think you’re lovely!

And David Gallop and Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne made it official by making some fantastically cheesy jokes to the media:

… there was little alcohol or glitz and glamour when the NRL did so again yesterday.

Just bad jokes.

ASKED if he felt the Eels had a stronger team this season than when he led them on their stunning run to last year’s grand final, Jarryd Hayne told reporters: ”Yeah, a lot of the boys can lift a lot more weights, so they’re stronger.’

”There’s no truth to the rumour that Willie [Mason] and I will be doing a reality dieting show in the boardrooms of Australia, called My Boardroom Rules,” said NRL chief executive David Gallop in reference to Mason’s criticism of the ”fat businessmen” on the Roosters board who wanted him out of the club.

Oh, DG. I actually have no idea if he has any kids, but based on that joke I now feel certain that he has both kids (cause that was a total dad joke) and a fucking sweet idea for a TV franchise. My Boardroom Rules? Yes please.

Wes Carr can write the theme song. Rexona and Powerade can be the sponsors. And DG and Big Willie can be the new Simon Cowell and Ryan Seacrest, trading barbs while my brother and I sit on the couch, eat vegemite toast and talk about how we suspect they’re secretly having a bromance. I like to think Big Willie will dismiss the fatcats who haven’t lost enough weight by looking them up and down and announcing: “Big Willie pronounces you … TOO BIG.”

In other news I also feel certain that Lozzy would’ve laughed at those NRL launch jokes. Go on and comment and prove me, right Lozzy. Prove me right.


Remember how amusing I thought it was when Steggles started sponsoring the Roosters? Manly obviously took that as a comedy challenge and made a special announcement this week on their website:

There are so many ways that I love this promotion. It’s perfect for everyone! For Manly fans to cry into when their team loses, and for Silvertail-haters to snot into when they have hideous infectious colds. You can even wave them as white surrender flags when the DJ starts playing Eagle Rock again at Brookie. MAKE IT STOPPPP!
So apparently I’ve found the future boyfriend for my dog this week. You know, my dog. Dolly Parton the greyhound. Because some excellent human has named their greyhound after Taniela Tuiaiki.

Pic. Mark Evans

I totally see the resemblance. It’s the muscular ass, right?

According to the Tank:

“It was a bit of a shock when I heard that there was a greyhound named after me. It’s something that doesn’t happen every day.”

Well-spotted, Tank. It doesn’t happen every day. Footy players being literal is one of my favourite things.

Now all I need is for Zac Efron to ask me over for a platonic night of snuggles and Disney movies and all my prayers will have been answered. Call me, Zef.

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shoutout to david gallop

February 18th, 2010

DAMN THESE VANCOUVER OLYMPICS. Is there no end to the torment they want to put me through?

First of all we had to endure at least eight weeks of endless Foxtel ads for the Olympics, featuring – for some completely unknown reason – Michael Buble all sweaty and gross and dishevelled, wearing  a hockey shirt, and telling us all to come experience ‘his Canada’ while some godawful one of his pop-swing songs plays in the background.

It actually got to the point where I started hearing Buble crooning ‘I just haven’t met youuuuu …. yet!” in my dreams. Friends, Michael Buble songs are only good for one thing: and that’s for giving to your aunty on CD as a Christmas present. I don’t like him in my tv, or in my brain.


What was my point? Oh, yes.

Not content with sending Buble to interrupt my attempts to lie very still on a Saturday morning and watch 3 hours of Simpsons in peace while I try and recover from a dirty hangover, the Vancouver Olympics have now broken our fearless rugby league leader. We found out yesterday that NRL boss David Gallop went over there on a mini-Olympic break and promptly broke his collarbone. Thanks, Vancouver.

What are we gonna do now? Who’s going to stand outside NRL headquarters when the next scandal happens looking stern and dignified and laying down the law? Cause God knows it’s impossible to look dignified in a sling. It just can’t be done. It’s science.

Meanwhile, according to Phil Rothfield in today’s paper, while DG is the most powerful man in rugby league, the number two most influential person is Jarryd Hayne.

So, um … has anyone seen Jarryd-with-a-Y lately? First of all he’s picked on the bench behind fullback Billy Slater for the All-Stars game, until Billy pulls out with an injured ankle. Now he’s ranked the second most influential man in league … and the number one contender gets involved in a mysterious skiing accident.

Jarryd-with-a-Y poses with a celebratory cigar.


We are a bunch of superstitious bitches, and our answer to that is … yes. Yes, he does. Burn the witch! burn the witch!

So get out your lists and write it down: never call Nick Politis fat, and never finish above Jarryd Hayne on any kind of list. It will only end in broken bones, or being exiled to Far North Queensland like Willie Mason.

And because DG isn’t back in town yet, we can’t send him a giant ridiculous basket of fruit flowers to cheer him up like we did that time Greg Inglis was arrested for allegedly assaulting his girlfriend (they’re festive! Plus they’re easy to eat with one hand). Instead he’ll have to settle for some e-fruit flowers that Intern John-John rustled up.

If you’re wondering, the card says:

‘We’re glad you didn’t do a Sonny Bono. Feel better soon DG! Love and kisses, Errol.’

ps if Shaun White is reading this – Shaun? Herro?

What is it, dude?

Who am I kidding, of course he’s reading. Well don’t worry, Shaun, I still love you! Even though the Olympics have been so mean to me, seeing rangas succeed in snowboarding never gets old. Your gold medal looks lovely with your orange curls. Love, Sassy.

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all-stars vs indigenous: the final countdown

January 29th, 2010

It’s exactly two weeks till the inaugural Indigenous vs All-Stars Gold Coast footy fest, and bitches, the All-Stars have been announced. The people have spoken. It’s pretty much democracy in it’s most fabulous incarnation yet, no?

(Click here to refresh your memory if you can’t remember who the hell the All-Stars are playing. I totally just clicked it then, because I have the memory of a learning-impaired sloth. This has nothing to do with booze, of course).

And before you read them, can I suggest that you imagine them all being announced like debutantes? I did, and the whole scene in my mind was pretty damn awesome. Come on down, boys!

1. Billy Slater – Melbourne Storm

2. Israel Folau – Brisbane Broncos

3. Michael Jennings – Penrith Panthers

4. Matt Cooper – St George Illawarra Dragons

5. Manu Vatuvei – New Zealand Warriors

6. Darren Lockyer – Brisbane Broncos

7. Benji Marshall – Wests Tigers

8. Adam Blair – Melbourne Storm

9. Cameron Smith – Melbourne Storm

10. Dave Taylor – South Sydney Rabbitohs

11. Anthony Watmough – Manly Warringah Sea Eagles

12. Gareth Ellis – Wests Tigers

13. Luke O’Donnell – North Queensland Cowboys


Kurt Gidley – Newcastle Knights

Anthony Tupou- Cronulla Sharks

Nate Myles – Sydney Roosters

Alan Tongue – Canberra Raiders

Luke Bailey – Gold Coast Titans

Josh Morris – Canterbury Bulldogs

Jarryd Hayne – Parramatta Eels

You can thank me later for the debutante ball visuals. Especially the one of Nate Myles in a one shouldered dress.

I can’t lie – that’s a damn good team. Australia, you have excellent taste. And by ‘excellent taste’, clearly I mean ‘ way to pick Hotbitch Cooper in the centres’. Sure, he may be 100 in footy years, but for a centenarian he has a fucking great ass … I mean, he’s a brilliant defensive center. Cough. And we all know why a team needs a good defensive centre. It’s called ‘the same reason NSW lose State of Origin’. On behalf of womankind … I mean, footy fans everywhere, thank you, voters of Australia.

The only problem with our nation’s love affair with Hotbitch Cooper – aka the ‘Chanel of men’ – is that thanks to the fascists who designed the voting scheme, there’s only one player voted in from each team. Playing Coops without Brett Morris outside on the wing is like … vodka without tonic. A Judd Apatow film without Paul Rudd. Those two have some Milo and Otis shit going on, and everyone knows that without Milo, Otis is just a lift company.

I’m 99% sure the only thing that could make up for the tragic lack of B.Moz is watching Manu Vatuvei and his fucking sweet gold tooth charge over opposition players. This is convenient.

People seem to be saying that the reason they voted reigning Rexona’s greatest athlete Billy Slater into the team is for his speed in running back the ball from his own tryline, his spontenaity, and, I dunno, the fact that he can score single-man length-of-the-field tries with the ball in one hand or something. But I would like to point out that Billy is also reigning Oh Errol winner of ‘best skin in league’, and his selection in the team means that I have a flimsy excuse to post this picture of him in a giant egg capsule* again:

* this is a technical term.


No offence to Jarryd Hayne but I also find it completely delightful that he’s not in the starting team, because hopefully now I won’t have to hear the phrase HAYNE TRAIN at any point in the next two weeks.

I still have nightmares about that photo, for reals. If there’s one thing I hate as much as Queenslanders, it’s puppets, clowns, and anything that has vaguely to do with people in masks.

Meanwhile if you’re wondering why there are so many Storms and Broncos in the team, it’s because the Captain and Vice-Captain of the Australian and Kiwi national teams automatically quali- … something something purple monkey dishwasher. I can’t be bothered explaining it. Whatever. I care not for anything that involves the Storm or Broncos (unless, of course, we’re talking about the brilliantly- named Kristian Wanka. KRISTIAN WANKA. You heard it here first).

I’d much rather take the time I would’ve spent typing and use it to go get a Diet Coke. I can’t even muster the inclination to look up how many votes the top vote-scorer Israel Folau received. Instead, let’s all look at a picture of Neil Patrick Harris riding a unicorn, shall we?

Best of all – the All-Stars team has proven to me that all our Errol weird footy loves are actually universal footy loves. Sir Alan Tongue, noblest man in league! Anthony ‘Sad Clown’ Tupou! Anthony Watmough! Gareth ‘But only gels do ballet!’ Ellis! Goddamn you people have excellent taste.

And surprisingly, no, this whole initiative wasn’t created just so the Errol girls could ogle Hotbitch Cooper and Luke O’Donnell (the Paul Newman of league) in a beachside setting. According to David Gallop, we’re looking at $1.5 million for One Community and Indigenous education programmes. That’s right, $1.5 million cause the game’s already sold out *high kick*

We love you rugby league.

Now – what’s your feedback on the team babies? and WHO VOTED FOR ISRAEL FOLAU?

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footy observations: kangaroos and movember

November 7th, 2009

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

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

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

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

Sexiest coach in league nominee Tim Sheens is Not Pleased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The point is Tim Sheens is a Machiavellian genius.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, yes, we see you too, boys.

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

Nathan Hindmarsh for his ongoing transformation into Russell Hammond:

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

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

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


All pics via Getty Images.

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bandwagons, billy love and kangaramoos

October 20th, 2009


Intern John John anxiously awaited our return


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kiki retreats to 1997 fashionz to ease the off season pain

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

Okay now onto things that aren’t me.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

(photos from GettyImages)

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footy observations: sasha fierce and george rose

September 14th, 2009

Wanna know what this post is about? IT’S ALL. ABOUT. GEORGE. ROSE.

Hi George! If you read this, feel free to stop by Errol HQ and we will give you Errol snuggles.

Ok, so there may be some other things later on. For instance, if you follow us on twitter you’ll know we all went to the Dragons game on Sunday at Kogarah, so I should probably write about Jarryd Hayne being a freak of nature, and what he has in common with Beyonce (hint: it’s not a big arse).

This photo needs more George Rose.

But mainly, it’s about George Rose. A few weeks ago the Errol girls hit up Brookvale Oval with our american besties Jay and Suellen to watch Manly thrash the Titans. They are huuuge NFL and college football fans, and all around great humans, so we thought they would enjoy an authentic Aussie league experience. … They totally did. Their faces basically lit up when Igor the Eagle came out to dance on the field and I reenacted told them the story of him beating down a heckler who invaded the field. Go Igor go! Bet you don’t get that in college football, hmmmm?

But the best thing about our trip to the Northern beaches was realising that everyone in the whole of Manly loves George Rose as much as we do.

God those bitches have good taste. And it’s not them. Know who agrees? The Aussie selectors.

Big Georgie Rose is in the training sqaud for the next Kangaroos tour of Europe.

And okay, maybe he’s not the most ripped man in the NRL … but what’s wrong with that? We’ve already got one Hot Bitch Cooper, right? Down with body fascism! Bottom line is everyone knows Georgie’s a dynamo. As Homer Simpson would say, George Rose you are a BIG FAT DYNAMO.

(Just quietly, that’s what Kiki calls me. Just one of the many reasons why George and I should be besties).

Meanwhile, why we were drawing up our list of Reasonz We Luv George, there were semi-finals happening. Melbourne demolished a flat Manly, the Dogs took out the Knights, and up in Queensland there was one of the most amazing games of semis footy in aaages.

Carty does not agree with that assessment.

There was Broncos magic, a massive Titans comeback, and John Cartwright barely managed not to bust out of his shirt and tie with rage like the Hulk, or (thankfully) have a stroke. WELU CARTY! PLEASE DON’T DIE BEFORE WE GIVE YOU YOUR 2009 ERROL AWARD!

Turns out Carty did verbally smack a bitch down at halftime … and get fined $10,000.00. I just hope it was as hilarious as Scotty Prince’s post-game interviews. No one is a better pissed off captain that Scott Prince. NO ONE.

Pic. Richard Gosling

Remember last year, when he accused the ref of having his Wests Tigers undies on?

Or “… you sent off their dumb forward and our smart hooker!”

Well on Sunday he stuck the boot into Darren Lockyer for milking a penalty on the field: “Have they given out awards for the Logies this year?”

Oh, Scotty.

And on Sunday afternoon at Kogarah, Jarryd-with-a-Y Hayne decided to show all the haters why he won the Dally M medal. Kittens, this is why:

FREAK. HE IS A FREAK. I mean obviously there were other reasons. Jamie Soward just wasn’t Jamie Soward. I dunno who was kicking out there, but it wasn’t our usual Tiny Dancer. The touchies filled me with rage, and the Dragons’ fifth tackle options were …. let’s just say they reminded me of the Roosters. And that’s not a good thing. THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY TIMES YOU CAN KICK THE SAME BOMB.

But not all the awesome Dragons fans could stop Jarryd-with-a-Y and his ridiculous form. Now that he’s found God, bitch is on fire.  I mean, I have no idea what kind of God he’s found, but apparently he was rocking a giant set of wooden rosary beads in the locker room, so I’m gonna go with Catholic.

Even Ray Warren sounds biblical in the commentary from the game. “Look at this in delight! Look at this in wonderment!” That’s a quote straight from the gospel of Rabs.

And thanks to the hooked-up Jessica Halloran we found out that Jarryd-with-a-Y has “an on-field alter ego.”


And if Ms Halloran’s dictaphone hadn’t died, I’m pretty sure he would have kept going and told us all exactly what Beyonce said when she revealed she has an alter ego.

“I turn into Sasha. I wouldn’t like Sasha if I met her … she’s too aggressive, too strong, too sassy, too sexy! I’m not like her in real life at all. I’m not flirtatious and super-confident and fearless like her.”

Jarryd Hayne is …. SASHA FIERCE.

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swine flu and jumping castles: sassy's dally m recap

September 13th, 2009

So I know some of you all may have missed the Dally Ms on Tuesday night, because … well, most probably because you had more important things to do, like googling ‘cancer’ to see if that funny feeling in your throat is deadly or listening to Faith Hill albums. WELL YOU MISSED OUT.

Didn’t you know that Events Involving Rugby League are always always worth watching? Because anything ridiculous or awkward that can happen in life will always always somehow happen to league. Don’t believe me? Well you can piss off and try and find another sport that has had an INTERNATIONAL MANHUNT in the last two years. I rest my case. It’s just … destiny. The same way that if there’s an aging bogan or an underage boy in the vicinity they will ALWAYS manage to find Kiki and me like magnets.

Luckily, Lozzy and Kiki came over to mine to watch the spectacular with me, and I’ma recap all the important parts for you. Don’t worry, you can repay me with thankyou gropes.

Unrelated note: how beautiful is Simone Ennis? So beautiful.

So we start with super-glamorous shots of all the schmicked up footy players and their dates arriving at the State Theatre. God I love footy players in suits. It’s one of my top ten favourite things. I love the way they keep looking around uncomfortably and pulling at their collars. It’s so deliciously awkward. Kinda like when they make Serena Williams wear a formal dress to the ball after she wins a Grand Slam and it looks like she’s just been wrapped in chiffon against her will. Or watching a dog walk on its hind legs.

Apparently the theme of the ceremony this year isn’t ‘irony’, cause Greg Alexander starts the show walking up the aisle talking solemnly into the camera while some kind of Space Odyssey: 2001 orchestral music plays super loudly in the background. Bet there’s at least one guy sitting in the audience praying and thinking ARE THE DALLY MS CANCELLED? ARE THEY GONNA SCREEN STAR WARS INSTEAD?

No, my sad friend. What they are gonna do is get an orchestra to play while we watch slo-mo league highlights. Because nothing says ‘league’ like an orchestra. Right? Personally, I was hoping for interpretive dance. Everyone loves interpretive dance.

So then Laurie Daley and Warren Smith get on stage and Warren’s got this crazy Napro Livecolour Just for Men shiny maroon hair for some reason and they’re bantering like it’s the Loz & Waz comedy hour and Lozzy is just sitting on the couch looking at me like ‘what the fuck? You got me over here to watch this?’. I feel like any second they’re gonna tell me to enjoy the rest of my cruise and try the prawn cocktail.

I totally freak out when they read out the Rookie of the Year nominations because, well, they’re Dan Dan Mortimer, Josh Dugan, Jarrod Croker, and Jamal Idris. Lozzy takes the piss out of me mercilessly after I actually wail ‘I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO. I LOVE THEM ALL’. Apparently in my mind I decide the awards. Crokes’ skunk striped black and white hair from last week is all just dark brown now … did David Furner make him dye it? I’m guessing yes.

Jamal takes it out and ambles up to get his award, lookin all sharp in his giant suit. Apparently he wears his hair out for formal occasions. Pigtails are only for sporting activities. We all lose our shit because … well because he’s Jamal. WHAT’S NOT TO LOVE? HE’S AMAZING. HE’S DOING HIS HSC AND HE HAS A MOUSTACHE. You don’t see that every day.

He also tells us that he chose league over javelin cause “you get to hit people, and you can get hit. It’s more fun hey.” I’m gonna put it out there that there would be a much bigger audience for javelin if you could hit people. It would be so … Roman gladiator. As if you wouldn’t tune in if there was a chance of a competitor getting a well-placed javelin through the thigh. It would be CHAMPAGNE TELEVISION.

The Polar Bear and his lady. Pic. Gregg Porteous

What was my point? Oh yes, next Ben Hannant wins the front rower of the year award and looks all happy and chuffed about it. It’s adorable. Good for you Benny! Even though he’s a Queenslander he’s impossible to hate. I think it’s the lovely blond hair. That and the fact that they call him a polar bear (that totally won Lozzy over. If there’s anything she loves more than a larger man, it’s an animal reference … preferably a LolCat). Needless to say Lozzy is now all over Ben Hannant’s swagger.

I have this sneaking suspicion that the Dally M peeps were all happy when they realised Hannant won this award … cause dammit if he didn’t deserve it. Not only did he get outed on national television by the commentators for having the runs, he was also the first player in the NRL to get SWINE FLU. Sucks to be Ben Hannant in 2009.

Just quietly – how totally and completely rugby league is it that players got swine flu? Seriously, is there any other sport in the world that had to have players quarantined for swine flu? OF COURSE THERE ISN’T. Because ridiculous shit like Swine Flu quarantine scandals only happens in league. Shit like international manhunts, and players having to be taken off the field with the runs, and naked hotel corridor scandals, and that time Billy Idol’s mike didn’t work. It’s one of the things we love most about it.

We seriously called it about four weeks before it happened that at least one NRL player would get swine flu. Not any other Australian sport … just league. We were so convinced that on the morning when the news broke Lozzy and I literally ran in and jumped on a sleeping Kiki yelling WE KNEW IT. BEN HANNANT HAS SWINE FLUUUUUUU. Best alarm clock ever, right?

Next up Anthony Watmough takes out second rower and the Errol gallery loses their damn minds. I have no idea when it happened, but at some point in 2009 we all became complete Watmough freaks. Just absolute bandits for some Watmough. TEAM WATMOUGH! *high kick* Maybe it’s because he’s always lovely and polite to us/remembers what we do/gives us awesome career advice? Who can say. It might also be because of the way he carved up the Queenslanders in game three of State of Origin this year. Either way, we all squeal with joy.

Plus, he looks seriously dashing. Points to Watmough for the best suit and best tie of the night. Who would’ve thought a forward would win that award? Amazing. He also jokes that he plays well just so he doesn’t piss off Des Hasler, and that makes us happy because we kinda suspect it’s the truth. Des can be a terrifying, terrifying man.

Warren Smith tries to introduce David Gallop to give a speech and …. um, has anyone seen DG? Anyone? He’s, wait, he’s on the way? On the way from where? Is he peeing? Is he drunk in the corridor like Kiki suspects he is?

[I imagined him clutching a bottle of whiskey, sobbing and refusing to go on stage. I CAN’T DO IT…DON’T MAKE ME DO IT! – K]

Bet they’ve never lost the head of the AFL at the Brownlows … oh, league. You are so special.

About twenty minutes later someone finds DG and shunts him up on the stage to give the Most Ironic Speech Ever:

“We’ve seen our players do extraordinary things this year … “

Nate Myles I believe this is directed at you!

“… and they deliver so consistently.”

This one’s for the Roosters, right? They have been bloody consistent this season. In a lot of ways.

We get some crowd shots of Jamie Soward looking completely furious and about to give up on life and/or start a shooting rampage. Possibly because there’s no booze. That’s right, this year the players have been squished into little seats at the State Theater. No moving, no food and no booze. It’s like the awards equivalent of being grounded for bad behaviour. This is not surprising. Even winning TWO awards doesn’t help.

Have you ever seen a happier man? Unlikely. *cough*

Nathan Hindmarsh and Fui Fui Moi Moi are all tucked in their little seats next to each other like dates. They make a lovely couple. Hornbag’s skin looks lovely and glowy. The Mozzies look like the cutest twins in cute-town, as always. Brett Kimmorley’s broken cheekbone is tres upsetting and has given him a crazy-zombie-red-eye. If I was him, I would’ve worn a nifty little formal eyepatch. Maybe one with spangles on it. Like Gabrielle!

We’re getting closer to the big announcement, when Prime Minister Kevin Rudd struts out on stage. Of course he does. Of course K.Rudd has nothing better to do on a Tuesday night than attend the Dally M Awards. God knows he wouldn’t be fine-tuning the proposed ETS. He’d much rather be drinking beer shirtless with Billy Slater or presenting footy awards. I love our country so much sometimes, and this is one of those times.

Pic. Brett Costello

The camera gives us a shot of Kurt Gidley, who for reasons we haven’t quite figured out, is wearing an amazing shiny metallic grey suit. He’s either planning on a trip to the moon later, or has built some kind of time machine for a trip back to Studio 54 circa 1981. I like it.

We take bets on who’s gonna win the thing, and – more importantly – on when Tiny Dancer Sowie is gonna blow. My guess is that he’ll leap up, punch Brandy and run for the exit within the next five minutes.

Straight after this, I am not exaggerating, the BEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN happens on the tv. I shit you not. Someone who is apparently from ‘Australia’s got Talent’ gets up on stage and starts singing the Josh Groban song ‘You Raise me Up’. Then …. I also shit you not, they start showing slow motion footage of footy players out in the community doing various good works. It doesn’t sound that good, so far, right? Well that’s because I haven’t told you that part of the footage is of Shane Shackleton leaping on a jumping castle for deadset thirty seconds. With children. In slow motion.




If you haven’t seen the Love Shack leaping in slow motion on a giant inflatable jhumping castle set to pop-opera, well then, my friends, you haven’t lived. I lost. my.  damn. mind.

Finally, after the shortest, dryest, booze-free awards ceremony ever, the winner is ….. *drumroll* … JARRYD HAYNE.

Kiki and Lozzy yell out AT LEAST IT’S NOT THURSTON. And it’s true. It makes our sky blue hearts happy that a NSW player won it. If Queensland won anything else this year we would’ve exploded with rage.

Hayne decides to totally tug on my heartstrings by kissing his mum on the shoulder (HIS MUM IS HIS DATE. CUTE) then telling the whole of Australia “I feel like crying”.

Crying from happiness, I presume. After all, he’s just won the Dally M player of the year … and he made it through the whole of the 2009 season without getting shot at. That’s pretty sweet.

I’m so touched that I don’t even correct his grammar when he says “it blew my mind away. I’m so gracious I went on that tour [with Fiji]”.

He poses with the rest of the Dally M team of the year – including Michael Ennis holding his award like a giant penis – and in true rugby league style, the ceremony ends with a giant explosion of confetti that scares the absolute shit out of Jarryd Hayne. He leaps about two feet and almost chokes himself with his medal. It’s amazing.

Pic. Steve Christo

It could only be more league if the confetti had somehow poked the Dally M player of the year in the eye and/or given him swine flu. Don’t you think?

Till next year kittens x

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state of origin: revenge of the fallen

June 26th, 2009

Hey Greg Inglis! We got you a little gift. Lotsa love, New South Wales.

Yes THAT IS TOTALLY A TRANSFORMERS REFERENCE. You know that shit is apt. Because the Queensland team are evil Deceptecons (apart from you Steve Price) and we are noble Autobots.  Yep yep.

Yeh so we shoulda written this yesterday but we were a) viciously hungover and b) annoyed at the world. And by world we mean QUEENSLAND. Booooo! As if things couldn’t get any worse, our eyes were subjected to herds of detestable Queensland supporters waddling about Sydney Airport the next day. All clad entirely in maroon. God, why are they so punishing?

This series loss is crap, but we knew it was coming.. By that we mean DAMMIT THOSE QUEENSLANDERS ARE JUST TOO GOOD. Did we really think that our baby blues could beat … pretty much the Australian team? Maybe. In the same way we think there’s a chance we could compete in Miss Universe. We live in a world of immense possibility, after all.

But the dream wasn’t to be.  So lets just do a run down shall we?


WE LOVE AUSSIE LEAGUE FANS. There is nothing that brings out the best in people like State of Origin. It’s like … the Olympics for fans. BEST. SIGN. EVER. There’s so much to love about it. I love that it’s actually addressed to Greg Inglis.

We love when fans direct their rage AT the actual players. Like when we went to watch the Roosters lose in dismal fashion against the Tigers at the SFS this season, Mitchell Pearce was standing in the corner in from of us, one irate fan stood up on his chair about three rows back from the field to yell ‘MITCHELL’.

The angryfan was so surprised when Mitchell actually turned around that he couldn’t even remember why he was so pissed and just pointed and shook his finger while making an angry ‘ngggggnnnnnnnnnggghhhhhhh’. It was awesome.

Also, don’t you love the simple fact that someone bothered to make a sign large and intricate enough to include the word BOWRAVILLE? He is so committed.

Possibly the only thing better is that – according to one of our Errol spiez, the lovely Jess – when the Maroons ran out a New South Welshman in a suit mooned them. Pulled on down his pin-striped suit pants and MOONED THEM. I am so proud to be from NSW right now.


JUSTIN POORE. What a dark horse! First he’s building orphanages in Rwanda, next thing you know he’s whipping up a tasselled bra and smashing Mick Crocker with a right hook in Origin. He is a man of layers. And luckily for us, one of those layers is PUNCHING. Hallelujah!

Exhibit A – J.Punch Poore gets his sexy on

And we have to admit something. With this single act of biff Justin well….he became SEXY. Um hello ripped jersey! We have always adorrrred him, but more in a OMG HE IS SO AMAZING AND PERFECT AND HAVE U SEEN THOSE EYELASHES sort of way. Now his appeal has taken on a whole new dimension. Welcome to the Hot Man Stable Justin baby!

And yes, we know violence is wrong but FOOTY VIOLENCE IS DIFFERENT. We really enjoy watching Anthony Watmough almost magically appear in the vicinity whenever a fight erupts, all full of eagerness and busting to just punch someone. Anyone! He sniffs it out like an enthusiastic labrador diving into the bushes and popping out with an apple core. Heart.


Ooooooooh dear. What can we even say? We aren’t gonna describe all of Dave’s fuck ups because well…you guys have eyes right? What we will say is:

a) Watching his distraught face on the TV literally broke our hearts. That shit was BLEAK.

b) Okay yes his mistakes were shockers, but most of the team under performed. If anyone is blaming him for our loss they are delusional.

c) Players have had bad debuts and gone on to be Origin superstars…hello Jarryd Hayne and Justin Hodges! Don’t write him off yet.

d) Guess the bubble had to burst for him at some point. His last 18 months have been somewhat charmed. But wow…what a way to come back to earth. THUD.

e) Even if everyone else in the world is ripping into you…WE STILL LOVE YOU DAVEY! So so much! If you ever need a place to hide out, we can blow up a bed and you can sleep on the floor of Errol HQ.


K.Hunt is overjoyed at the win; regrets sharing a fork with Nate Myles.

Seriously, Nate Myles = almost as unfortunate as Ben Hannant. Is there anything worse than having it announced to the world that you have diarrhoea? THAT’S RIGHT, PEOPLE. NATE MYLES IN DOUBT FOR ORIGIN CAUSE HE CAN’T LEAVE THE CAN. We love it when embarassing shit happens to Queenslanders, we really do.


Yaaaaay! Go Jarryd-with-a-y! Hayne has often been thought of in the league world as being lazy/arrogant/generally unlikeable. Well forget all that shit coz bitch KILLED IT on Wednesday night. Not only did he score that sweet sweet try (revenge for the video ref debacle of Origin 1) he was also enthusiastic in defence and was probably the Blues best player. WELL DONE MISTER! You get an Errol gold star. Lucky boy.

At this point we would like to make a request.

Queenslanders, we are okay with you winning a record series. It’s hardly a suprise. But please, for the love of all that is good and holy, stop pretending it’s about heart, pride or the ‘Queensland spirit’. IT’S COZ YOU HAVE THE ENTIRE AUSTRALIAN BACKLINE FOR CHRISSAKE. Stop being self mythologising fantasists and accept you are just the better team.

See you in Game 3. We look forward to our Trent ‘our new favourite person’ Barrett smashing some more maroon jaws. What whaaaat!

(Pics from the lovely cronkster and GettyImages)

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