the oh errol awards 2010: results time

October 22nd, 2010

You guys, we don’t even know what to say. These last two weeks have been, just … a crazy ride, you know? We’ve never done this kind of public vote before. We were confused and excited and to be honest we had no idea how all this would turn out, and now we’ve seen the results? They’re .. overwhelming. It’s been the BEST ERROL AWARDS EVER. And there’s no way we could’ve done it alone. You guys and your literally thousands of votes made all of this possible. You’re our inspiration, our heart. We want to thank you all. And of course, we want to thank our “friend, Ben Affleck“.

Now, while we’re busy pulling up our ill-fitting pink dresses, why don’t you check out the winners?


Well apparently we’re starting with a landslide, kids. Sorry Badge and Sheensy, but Carty romped this one in with a 63% share of the vote. In honour of his award, he will receive a package direct from Errol HQ containing a voucher for some salt and pepper highlights at his local hairdresser.


Apparently Cooper Cronk has a stranglehold on this like Matt Cooper has a monopoly on the title Hot Bitch. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to be here to collect his award in person, but he sent this short message for you all to enjoy.


We can’t lie, this was a close ballot. Flossy just edged out Shaun Kenny-Dowall in an intense kiwi bettle. Un the ind, Flossy came out vuctorious. We like to think this is also a victory for New Zealand in general, because “you are where you come from”. Or something.


Or, as the Papua New Guineans call him: MattGillett MattGillett! MattGillett got almost half the votes, and as a special gift from us to commemorate this moment, MattGillett will receive a gift pack containing 42 schmackos and a Kong filled with peanut butter. Who’s a good boy MattGillett?


Do you know what Prince Scotty the Caramel was up to when we told him he was a winner? Yep, as you can tell from that there photo, he was napping. We’re 99% sure there’s actually some drool in the corner of his mouth there. No judgment, though, Princey. GOD KNOWS YOU DOESN’T HAVE TO BE AWAKE AND CONSCIOUS AND TRAINING FOR ANYTHING. Poor overlooked Scotty. We hope this award does a little to numb the pain of being the most overlooked halfback in league … just. A few more votes and this could’ve been Hornbag’s instead.

Because we don’t want them to feel left out, all three nominees for the Mr Cellophane Award will be receiving a handwritten card signed by all the Errol staff that says ‘you’re special’ on the front.

Now, who’s hosting the after-party?

Pics. Matt Gillett by Kiki, the rest via Getty Images

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the oh errol awards 2010: the superman award

October 13th, 2010

We realised something today, and it blew our damn minds. Wendell Sailor is allegedly on a ‘twitter-break’ this week. This week also happens to be the exact same week when the Chilean miners stuck underground are being rescued. COINCIDENCE? I think not. It’s a ‘coincidence’ the way it was always so gosh-darn unlucky that whenever Superman appeared to rescue someone in dramatic fashion, Clark Kent was always ‘in the bathroom’ or ‘at the vending machine getting a Kit Kat’ and missed it.

It’s blatantly obvious that Wendell has a excavatin’, miner-resuin’ alter-ego who travels the world saving people in need. He’s like SUPERMAN. For reals.

So today as we get to announce the third prestigious Oh Errol award category for 2010, we’ve decided to name it in honour of Wendell, Superman and Clark Kent.


Yep, just like ‘Superman’ was super-slick and rocked a blue unitard and totally won Lois Lane’s heart, he had an alter-ego who struggled with life. Clark Kent was softly-spoken, had troubles with the ladies, and for all we know had low self-esteem as well because no one ever appreciated his adorable D-Squared inspired nerd outfits.

This year, there are three boys we’ve picked as embodying the Superman paradox. Sure, when you meet them they seem meek and mild, but don’t underestimate them, y’all. They still know how to kick ass on the field and they did it in 2010.

And sure, you can leave a comment and vote for some other completely random dude, but I will personally guarantee you can’t find anyone more deserving than the Errol nominees for 2010.


You all saw this one coming, huh? You know we love Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale more than life. Some people might call him “special” (Phil Gould’s words, not ours), just because he runs with his arms kind of bent like Brick Tamblyn from the movie Anchorman and doesn’t seem to ever brush his hair and looks constantly happy and confused like a human-shaped Labrador. But under those black footy boots that look like Clarks school shoes, Flossy’s a dynamo.

He also plays for New Zealand in International rep matches, and when the media asked him why, his answer went something like:

“I believe you are where you come from, and my family’s from New Zealand. I don’t have any ties to Australia, except I was born here, and grew up here, and went to school here and … um … you are where you come from.”

Maybe that’s why they didn’t award him the Clive Churchill medal for his amazing performance in the Grand Final this year: they were worried about what he’d say in his speech.


He’s been a solid fringe rep-grade player for years, a gentleman, and hilarious. But we think his finest moment was his appearance on the Footy Show touching items blindfolded and trying to guess what they were. When he was presented with a goat, he had no idea. And when he took off his blindfold to have a look, he said: “I still don’t know what it is”.

General, we love you just the way you are. Never, ever change.


So here’s a little story from the Errol vaults. It happened at a Roosters post-game presentation at Easts Leagues Club, the first time we ever encountered him, and it went a little something like this:

Kiki: Hey remember when you did Gods of Football?

Shaun: I never did Gods of Football.

Sassy: No, I think you did.

Shaun: Nah, I didn’t.

Kiki: I swear you did! We wrote about it, and I said you looked like P!nk.

Shaun: …..

Kiki: You were wearing thongs and underwear. I remember it VIVIDLY.

Sassy: Me too! I thought maybe you were worried about tinea.

Shaun: Oh, yeah … I did.

It was as adorable as his recent form has been fantastic.

Happy voting!

Pics. Getty Images, caps by Sadie.

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a little dose of monday awkward

June 21st, 2010

Never read Errol before? Then you might not realise that we often find ourselves in awkward situations. Like the time we had to interview John Cartwright in a food court outside MacDonalds.

Or the time I had to go out on the field at Leichhardt Oval after a NSW Cup game to interview the players. Instead of walking around to the big gate, I decided to just step over the little fence in front of the Grandstand …. and got stuck on it. Literally. Right leg on the field, left leg in the stands, and the crotch of my opaque tights snagged on a curl of wire on the top of the fence. Have you ever tried to unsnag the crotch of a pair of tights from a mini-hurricane fence in front of two NSW Cup teams, while holding a giant video camera bag in one hand and a tripod in the other? It was … elegant.

Apparently we have some kind of embarassing NSW cup reggies mojo going on at Leichhardt Oval in particular cause it keeps getting Kiki too. When the Tigers played Wests she tripped over her thong running to get an interview and fell face-first onto the concrete walkway in front of a terrified and aghast Robbie Farah.

When the Tigers played the Central Coast Centurions she found herself standing in line at the kiosk window waiting for a snack. All of a sudden she realised – and if you know Kiki you’ll know that this made her really, really happy – that there were cheesedogs on the menu.

If Tim Sheens is reading this it must be like looking in a mirror.


She exclaimed with joy, just as the man at the front of the queue turned around to leave and came face to face with her.

You know that moment when a person turns around and you realise you recognise them, so say “Hi! [Insert name here]! It’s you!”  Well, it was just like that.

Except that the man, friends, wasn’t a friend of ours. It was Tim Sheens. And, well, we’ve never met Tim Sheens. Also, Tim Sheens is generally known as either Tim Sheens, or ‘Sheensy’, no? And no, she didn’t say ‘SHEENSY’. Instead she literally yelled CHEESEDOGS in Tim Sheens’ face. He looked mortified. It was mortifying. And now, forevermore, we will call him Tim “Cheesedogs” Sheens.

… nyello, Cheesedogs speaking?
Pic. Getty Images

And now we have a new Special Moment to add to the Big Book of Errol Awkward: the time Sassy sms-ed Ryan Girdler. Remember Girds? The Penrith champion, ladies’ fave, former tv star and generally super-nice human being? the boys at Rugby League Player mag kindly let us do an interview with him for the next issue, knowing that we think he’s talented/lovely/interesting etc. We couldn’t get him on the phone to begin with, so I saved his number to try again.

Pic. Getty Images

That weekend, a good friend hit a bit of a rough spot: the kind that needs cocktails and hugs and other things of that nature. So I wrote a message that I’m 99% sure said:

“Hi babe, obviously I’m a bit out of the loop, but sending you all my love darlin xx s”

THEN I SENT IT TO RYAN GIRDLER. KILL ME NOW. At least I didn’t realise for like five days so I had five days of blissful ignorance. Why am I so embarassing?

Even Mitchell Pearce, the Patron Saint of Looking Awkward in Photos, doesn’t have any answers.
Pic. Getty Images

But anyway, let’s talk about footy and how it totally soothed the pain of being a really embarassing human.

My chookies were playing the bye this week (it was a close finish, but they kicked its ass) so I could watch the games without stressing and goddamn they were good. Not good if you are a fan of: ball control, defence, good refereeing, or the Sharks, but good for me.

Dragons vs Sharks, Sea Eagles vs Rabbitohs, Tigers vs Raiders: three of the most exciting games I’ve watched this year.

And apparently for the Tigers it was one of the best games to play all year, because Nips Farah got so excited he actually ran to the crowd for high-fives. NIPS TOUCHED PEOPLE! He never touches people! It’s proof that even after your team murders eight tries in eighty minutes, miracles can still happen at the Lilyfield Rectangle.

Special love from that game goes to Chris Heighington, for being a beast and playing like one; to Nips, for bein’ Nips; and to Jarrod Croker and Joel Thompson for representing for the baby Raiders.

Whee! I helped!

Pic. Getty Images

Footy also helped because, as always, awkward shit happened. Awkward and hilarious shit, mainly thanks to Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale. Not only did he get completely outraged after a Sharks player tackled him off the field and kneed him in the buttock, he then scored one of the top ten most hilarious tries in history. Trapped between two Sharks, he looked around shiftily, bit his lip, reached out his arm like he was trying to stealthily steal something from a museum, and gently puffed the ball onto the line. It was pure Flossy magic. We rewound it and rewatched it four times.

…. Yoink!

Did I do good?

Screencaps thanks to the awesomeness that is Australia Votes.

Happy Monday, kids!

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friday night recap: dragons vs bulldogs

March 26th, 2010

At Errol HQ, we never like to do things straight away if we can let Future Us look after it instead. So how about a really late recap of the Dragons vs Bulldogs from the weekend? Awesome.

I’m watching this game form the couch. Sure I’d rather be hanging in the gong at WIN Stadium looking at the water views (they really are lovely) and basking in the kind of satisfaction that only comes from being within stalking distance of both Hot Bitch Cooper AND Wendell Sailor, but a girls gotta take what she can get. And what I got … is lazy.

The Bulldogs fans have a sign that says ‘STAGGERING’. Really, guys? Of all the options, you went with a tribute to David Stagg? No offence to Dave, but he’s not really a marquee player, is he? For the mums and gays reading, if you cast him in Beaches, he’d be Barbara Hershey, not Bette Midler, right?

The Dragons play a great first set with a brilliant kick from Tiny Dancer but I’m too busy being shocked that Hornbag has new spanx on. Thery’re all … white! And shiny! I thought Hornbag was gonna hold onto those old manky faded blue-grey spanx until the end of eternity. I always figured when nuclear armageddon came, all that would survive would be cockroaches, and Hornbag’s blue bike pants. Pretty sure Hornbag would love me comparing his crotchal region to insects, just quietly.

Pic. Getty Images

After about ten seconds Darius Boyd throws a great pass right to B.Moz to dive in like superman for a try. Kiki sends me text messages that just say ‘B.MOZZZZZz‘ and ‘FANTASY LEAGUE SUCK IT‘.

I send one back that says ‘F*CK ME THAT’S THE FIRST TIME I’VE EVER SEEN BALL-HOG PASS A FOOTY.’ Dah-rius, honey, if you can pass like that, how come you’ve never done it before, hmmmm?

Brad Fittler gives me updates from the sidelines and I feel like- much as I love Freddy – of all the post-footy jobs you could possibly give him, why would you pick one where you can only hear his voice?

He has a lovable face, relevant things to say, footy cred like woah, and … a voice like a punch-drunk boxer. It’s like listening to Milo Kerrigan tell me about the Dragons.

I swear to god he actually says “I can pretty much guarantee that they’ll end up the other end the bulldogs in not too long time”. I think he’s nervous. DON’T BE NERVOUS FREDDY DARLIN.

There’s some crazy sea mist action on the field and newly-recognised hot bitch Jeremy Smith’s new curly hair is all windswept and drenched, swoon. It makes me sad that he hid his hot under a Storm jersey for so long.

Weyman goes in for a tackle and Rabs cackles “talk about some prime beef coming together there! Hickey into Michael Weyman!” I know when I think of Jarrad Hickey the first thing I think of is beef. Mmmm wagyu.

Dean Young scores, but Sowie can’t convert. I think he got the prance wrong and it put him off.

They have to send in an interchange player for Jarrad Hickey cause Wagyu Jarrad is deadset EXHAUSTED. He’s the dampest, sweatiest man I’ve ever seen and I’m scared he might have a stroke.

Brad ‘Milo Kerrigan’ Fittler gives us a weather report: “there’s a bit of breeze, it’s not too hot. You just get a bit of a lather up.”

Sassy can’t wait till Freddy’s known as the Most Trusted Name in Weather.

Is the weather getting messy? Aaa-aaaaaask Freddy!

Benny Creagh puts a hit on David Stagg that is completely massive and Dave takes a quick ride on the Teacups that makes the ‘STAGGERING’ sign in the crowd seem really cruel and ironic.

At this point I really need to pee but apparently I would rather risk internal complications and hold it in than stop watching the footy. Also, is it just me or is Luke Priddis kind of a bizarro Trent Barrett?

The doggies have a chance at a try on the left hand side, but Dah-rius takes Bryson Goodwin over the sideline to stop it, then patronisingly pats him on the head. And when Bryson gets his bitch on and wants to start a fight, Dah-rius runs away. He fights like me!

Beau Scott takes his place, because dammit if Beau isn’t the angriest bitch ever as soon as he steps onto a football field. All of a sudden Hornbag, Ben Hannant, and Flossy nightingale are in the middle of an actual fight and I feel like there is no one in the world less suited to be involved in punchy punchy times. If the camera could show what was actually happening in there Ben Hannant and Flossy would just be nuzzling each other’s necks like giant puppies. J.Moz and B.Moz run away to fake fight each other on the other side of the field, also known as “entertaining the crowd with a show of brotherly love” according to Rabs.

… hasn’t he seen Philadelphia?
Pic. capped by Cronkstaaaah

Rabs, this prase “brotherly love”, it means something that you don’t think it means. Trust me.

Other things Rabs has told us tonight include that Jamal Idris used to do Discus, and that Sterlo is a “whippersnapper”. These things may or may not be true.

At half time Kiki rings me to discuss the fight and to tell me she has run out of clean undies and is freeballing. We are officially way too close.

The boys finish their oranges and the second half starts. This is also known as ‘Rabs being even more fucking hilarious/senile than usual”.

There’s a fiesta of Warriors-esque passes and, on the sideline, Milo Kerrigan the weatherman interviews Michael Ennis. Rabs thinks “the players are really improving … what about Sam Thaiday’s oratory skills!”

The game loses momentum, until Beau Scott brings down a bulldog and Rabs calls him “a bounty hunter! They don’t get away from him!”

I hear his new movie is really shit, though.

The doggies finally get a try in; Gary Warburton is penalised for a high tackle because I think we all know that good things don’t happen to men called Gary Warburton.

No, Gary, NO!

The dragons charge into Green and Hickey in defence. I’m impressed. I’d be too scared they’d eat me. Emmett scores, Kimmorley is enraged, and I am completely confused by whatever is going on with the reffing. For the record, I’m not even drunk.

Also, yes that was very good Nick Emmett but please don’t wink at me through the tv again. It’s unnerving. We hardly know each other.

Meanwhile Kimmorley is still angry and frantically miming obstruction at the ref like a netball umpire in slo-mo.

Kiki phones me again and we declare Hornbag as the Errol man of the match.

Ben Creagh slams Kimmorley and mini-Hoppo takes a looong ride on Space Mountain. I yell out “thanks for comin’ Kimmorley!” like a dirty bogan.

B. Moz runs in for his third try of the noght and I seriously cannot even process how unfair this is. Remember our fantasy experiment? I really REALLY need this kind of talent in my team, but B.Moz refuses to give in and just steal a car or something. He’s so fucking selfish. My fantasy team is so gonna lose this week.

With that the ref blows the whistle, 26-6. I cry a little for my poor unfortunate fantasy team … and did I mention I need to pee again?

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footy observations: sassy talks red + white

July 14th, 2009

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

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

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

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

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

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

… oh, shucks.

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

Who’s a good boy then?

Yes you are the best boy.

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

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

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

Pic. Mark Evans

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

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


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

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

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

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

Caps thanks to the fierce Cronkster. THANKS DARLIN!

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dragons vs roosters: the anzac day that wasn't

April 28th, 2009




Well I was sick. Last week. BIG TIMES. Something weird is going on. Either Greg Inglis is still working that Kiki voodoo doll or I seriously fucked someone over in a previous life. I’m gonna blame GI. Why? Because I can.

(Yes … that is me in a Dragons sleeping bag photoshopped into a hospital bed, well spotted readers.Well spotted.)

So last Tuesday night I felt a bit icky but powered on with Important Errol Business. Then I started vomming and didn’t stop for 7 hours. I ended up being rushed to the Emergency Room so I didn’t like, die from dehydration, or whatever it is that happens when you vom for 7 hours straight. I had an IV and about 25.7 litres of fluids and lots of drugs I can’t pronounce.

It was very Hollywood dramz. I was tres shitty I forgot to take my phone so I could be all Solange Knowles and update Twitter on my sicky adventures. Needless to say it was scary and upsetting and really gross. The most horrific thing about the whole experience was when the nurse WEIGHED ME. As if I wasn’t traumatised enough now I have climb on the bloody scales. Bastards.


I left with a truly disgusting bruise on my hand from the IV needle thingy and that’s it. They didn’t even hook me up with some sweet painkillers. I swear, what is the point of private health care if I don’t get mind altering drugs? Outrage! Joke! FARCE!

ANYWAY I struggled through the rest of the week (thank god I work from home in my PJ’s, oh the life of a professional blogger) hoping to get better for the Most Important Day of the Year aka ANZAC Day. In all seriousness, I hold ANZAC Day really close to my heart. It’s one of the only things I take seriously. It is a beautiful beautiful day and it makes me so incredibly proud to be Australian.

I love the solemn reflective mornings and the raucous two-up fuelled afternoons. As if that wasn’t brilliant enough, my beloved Dragons play the Chookies. I had an awesome day lined up. But my body said NO WAY KIKIPANTS. So I spent the day at home instead. BOOOOO. Thankfully Sassy came to visit me. I even put on actual pants for her. Okay, thats a lie. But I did put on a bra. Damnit….that’s a lie too.


Soooooo … THE DRAGONS WON! HOORAY! Obviously they heard I was rather poorly and decided to put on a winning performance for me. Right? Do it for the little girl in hospital, boys! Well at least Tiny Dancer Soward did, and thank god for that because that teeny package of awesome won us the game. Really, he did. 21 points all by himselfs! SOWIE KAPOWIE!

As the above picture clearly portrays, the Dragons were scarily awesome, Benny was at the helm creating fire with his bare hands and I was happy happy happy. I considered not labelling the pathetic corpsey bones as the Roosters to spare Sassy’s feelings … for about 2 seconds. HAH!

The game started off in the best way possible. One minute in and our beloved B.Moz pumps those impossibly long legs and goes over for a try! I leapt from the lounge and found myself upright for the first time all week. B.Moz cured me! He should start blessing water and shit. Get on that champ.


I deeply enjoy starting the game with a nice lil try. You know, despite what you read in Cosmo, sometimes a girl likes a bit of satisfication within the one minute mark. Just sayin.

Meanwhile I look over and Sassy was hiding under my dogs blanket. She knew it was gonna be a looooong afternoon. I kept reminding her although they may suck, at least her boys looked resplendent in their special ANZAC edition baby blue jerseys. Really, they look so pretty!

I could detail all the awes things the Dragons did (although there was still a few silly mistakes I’m not happy with, I’m sure Wayne is on that though) but let’s cut to the chase. The best thing about this game by far was the fully fledged return of Flossy Nightingale.YAAAAAY! Not only did he score a try, the adorable bitch busted out his best puppy dog cuteness on a scale not seen since 2008.


We here at Errol call him ‘the labrador of rugby league’. He just REALLY.LOVES.PLAYING.FOOTY. Obviously alot of players emote when they score tries, but what other player smiles whilst just … on the field? When Tiny Dancer busted through the line and scored that sweet sweet try Flossy just ran alongside him. Smiling, cheering and being a lovable little cheerleader. He just loves life. Life and footy and fun times! And we reckon he’s thought about licking people’s faces more than once. For the record Floss-Floss, you can lick my face anytime. WHO’S A GOOD BOYYYY?


Sup? Nothin…just warmin up my tongue.

Another highlight of the game was the way Sowie Kapowie popped over that cheeky field goal just before half time. No particular reason, just because he could. You know, the way I technically don’t have to write blogs for Errol but I do. Me and Tiny Dancer showin off our mad skillz just coz we caaaaan. WHAT WHAAAAT.

I kept waiting for the Chookies to score a try. Obviously I didn’t want them to win, but I wanted to see some semblance of a smile from Sassy. Truth be told she is kind of completely terrifying when the Roosters suck, I still haven’t recovered from the way she let loose after the Tigers game a few weeks back. We both looked expectantly at the TV … surely they must? Soon … it’s coming … almost … nope. Oh dears.

They finished the game at zip. Zero, nada, nothin … donut.


Mmmm….donut. If only the Chookies were covered in pink icing and sprinkles, I might like them a bit more. Just a suggestion.

pic – Anthony Johnson, LeagueHQ

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footy observations – hot bitch, blood and ballerinas

September 19th, 2008


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.

ksjjdEzra 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.



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.

kjkIllawarra 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)

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sunday fun in the sun – dragons vs warriors

August 27th, 2008

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!

kijlkijLeague 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?

olkjSandra 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.

ohoihLeague 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!


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footy observations … you wouldn't like me when I'm angry

July 24th, 2008

We should have known that the dramaz from Monday night’s Storm vs Dragons game weren’t going anywhere. But usually we’re the ones responsible for the rage and the profanity in our office. We were not expecting Intern Brownie to get on the Dragons video site and lose his shit. We never let him out! he must have snuck out his window while we were having our afternoon naps. And by ‘having our afternoon naps’ I mean ‘lying passed out on the lounge from our lunchtime woines’. He’s tricksy that Brownie.

But lose his shit he did. Bitch was PISSED.

Usually he’s so benevolent and snuggly. The kind of man who’s problem as a coach is that the players aren’t scared of him.  I can’t help but think that being around us every day has made him a cranky bitch. And I for one like it. Go Brownie go! An intern in my own image! We could not be prouder if he was our own kid.

And do you know what? Brownie was right on the money. Maybe our smarts are catching too?

It’s not Melbourne’s fault … the storm have got all the tricks, they grab pressure points. They tell you they don’t practice, they do. They’ve even got a new one where they rub their shin on your achilles, which is very painful.

We went down there to give a little bit back and basically Jamie Soward got grappled, and he got put in the sin bin. I don’t have a problem with the storm play, what I have a problem with is the officials saying they’re gonna cut it out of the game and they don’t.

THANK YOU. It’s not Melbourne’s fault they play the wrestling game. They win games with it. This is professional sport for god’s sake. What are all these players there for if not to win? They’re not being paid for their witty repartee. And Mick Crocker isn’t risking damaging his already probably smooshed brain just to lose out there. Right, Mick? he gets hit in the head all the time but doesn’t let it stop him.

Tell you what I do not approve of though: I hate when anyone tries to play the sympathy game with me. Oh, but wait. Brownie, do you want to clarify what I mean?

They accused Jason Nightingale of headbutting … he headbutted Billy Slater’s fists. The only thing Jason Nightingale did wrong is he didn’t headbutt him hard enough as far as I’m concerned.

If you’re gonna beat them that’s what you’ve got to do, because they play within the rules that the officials allow them to play in.

Brownie’s being serious. Billy Slater pleaded innocence because Nightingale head-butted him. But I saw no heabutts, and Foxtel IQ does not lie. Oh, Billy. Maybe it was someone else? But I definitely say it wasn’t little Flossy. I don’t like this at all! And we were getting along so well.

The truth is when you ran in and defended Cooper Cronk on the field with your arms a-swinging I was all over it. I love league violence! And when the ref sin-binned you and you smiled as you ran-off field, I almost giggled a little. Truly, I did.But then you go and ruin it by being sooky in front of the judiciary. Unacceptable!

I also have decided I do not approve of the heinous Melbourne Storm fans (except Hazy of course, love). I am all for new rugby league fans, but sometimes when you go and watch rugby league, it helps if … you know, you know the rules? Not all of them, mind you (I certainly don’t), but just the easy ones.

Like that tackling is allowed, and you don’t boo Every Single Time someone tackles a Storm player. Or that cowbells are never, ever acceptable. Or even that it is not ordained by God that your team should always win. Eventually, like every other team has at some point, your team will suck. So be nice to other fans. Hopefully then they will be nice to you if Israel Folau gets sent on his Mormon mission, or Greg Inglis is poached to union, or Storm Man falls off his quad bike.

I am, however, all for Brownie’s plan to solve this problem with more violence.  Violence solves everything!  My mama taught me that.



Sadly my dreams of extreme rugby league bloodsports were crushed when my other most-loved league coach Brad Fittler announced he is not down with the wrestlemania play At All.

“I think this style of game is pretty crap”.

But … but, Brownie said I could! He did! I swear! Braaaaaaaad, can’t I watch people have their arms ripped off?

Freddy never lets me do ANYTHING.

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The Two-for-One Recap: Dragons vs Panthers

June 21st, 2008

The Friday night recap is a special edition this week. Since I’m staying at Crippled Kiki’s this weekend, you’ll get double the awesome from us as I blog, and she nurses her broken elbow on the couch and sporadically chimes in with bitchy and hilarious comments.

This Friday sees Cripple’s baby Dragons playing the Penrith Panthers who I am completely indiff …. um, who is that? It seems that over the past fourteen weeks I have failed to notice that there is a completely, insanely, tousle-haired, bedraggled hot bitch of a second-rower playing for Penrith. He’s got a slight gut, a slight stagger, slight stubble, and a slight whiff of woke-up-on-a-pub-floor-and-was-unexpectedly-signed-to-play-league about him. His name is Matthew Bell and he may be our perfect man.

See I had this hole in my heart from when Nathan Hindmarsh lopped off his shaggy hair, but now it is finally filled. The Panthers website tells me his interests include fishing and camping, but I’m sure we can cure him of those.

Where was I? Oh yes, the footy.

Even before the game starts tonight has already been some Champagne football. In the Wests Tigers vs Brisbane Broncos clash we discovered the truly fabulous Daine Laurie. He’s two metres of giant man with a full head of dreadlocks, and his ridiculously long legs may or may not be made of Cadbury Old Gold.

Kiki thinks he’s reminiscent of a pre-Rugby Union (as she puts it ‘PRE-BETRAYAL’) Lote Tuqiri.

According to the Herald, Cadbury Daine almost conceded a penalty when he ‘shoved’ Corey Parker. We’re pretty certain that shit wasn’t no shove. It was a bitch slap. Left hand to the left cheek, left hand to the right cheek on the way back. Bitch. Slap. Everyone says so. And Corey Parker definitely agrees because he grabbed his cheek in shock and made the international mouth-open OH NO YOU DIDN’T BITCHSLAP ME face. Gold.

Now, on to the main event.

The Dragons aren’t messing around tonight and within about five minutes have me face-down with hysterics as Jarrod Sammut lets a kick fly directly into little Jamie Soward’s face and it ricochets from his forehead back into Sammut’s chest to a surprised and delighted Petero Civoneciva.

There is actually an audible smack when it hits Soward’s tiny peanut head and Kiki shudders and flails a little bit due to flashbacks of a football-to-temple incident in the school playground in year nine.

The cobras … the cobras!

Old warhorse Petero can’t manage to turn it into a try and I’m unexpectedly sympathetic because he looks completely fucking exhausted. He’s drenched in sweat and starting to sway a little. Not to mention that ole Oak Tree Petero already has giant beige knee braces on both knees and one elbow strapped. Bitch has enough problems. We also couldn’t handle it if anyone else league-related dies this year.

Crafty Trent Waterhouse breaks through the bewildered Dragons to send Rhys Wesser in for a Penrith try. Go Danny Glover, go! Ray Warren thinks the Panthers are particularly ominous tonight. I like to think ominous is today’s word on Rabs’ word of the day calendar.

And even though the Dragons are now 6-0 down, Jason ‘Flossy’ Nightingale JUST LOVES PLAYING RUGBY LEAGUE! As he tackles a passing Panther we are certain we see him giggle in delight. Kiki christens him the Labrador of rugby league, and if he had a tail he’d be wagging it now.

He even looks a tiny bit joyful when he attempts a left hand sideline run for a try and is tossed into touch. Oh, Flossy.

The commentary team are also sparkling today, and when little Jamie Soward and his headgear clean up a ball in the goal area Andrew Voss chips in “Soward was good skill”. Sage words, Vossy.

Phil Gould refuses to be outdone in the commentary box and decrees that the Dragons’ ball-running remains strong.

“It may have only been eight metres but it was a bloody good run”.

Who knew there were criteria for a run on the field other than how far you run on the field? Not I. Yhat’s amazing, Gus. Gould has also named two Penrith players ‘Big F’ and ‘Big P’ and doesn’t seem to care that no one has any idea which players he’s talking about.

Snuggly Ben Hornby goes down in a tackle and comes up with a bleeding eye. Kiki is distraught that her Hornbag is injured, but one plus is that the trickles of blood are making his usually undefined eyes stand out a lot on screen. Ben Creagh’s head was also broken a little a few tackles ago and is still bleeding. Why does Creagh’s head always break??

It upsets Kiki a lot and she starts reminding me that scientists say brain damage is one of three causative elements in creating serial killers. If he also has a personality disorder we are all in trouble. WATCH OUT FOR BEN CREAGH KIDS.

Down on the sideline Andrew Johns has also finally reached the conclusion that the Panthers are looking ominous tonight. Yep, definitely the word of the day on the boss’ desk down at Channel Nine. Except when Joey says it it comes out as ‘onimous’. Bless.

Gus Gould continues to up the insanity levels and announces:

“This is an opportunity for Penrith to pull their pants down”.


I don’t really know what happens then because I am distracted by Wade Graham who has some of the most beautiful eyelashes I’ve ever seen (that’s not a joke, I really was. Kiki was too), but it ends with Luke Lewis scoring another try for the Panthers.

Flossy looks pissed and it’s really unnerving. Like being growled at by a Guinea Pig. Jason Ryles is chewing his nails and I think that explains why the Dragons couldn’t stop Lewis getting across for a try. Pay attention, bitches. Matty Johns reminds me why I am completely in love with him by pointing out ‘LUKE LEWIS IS A FOOTY PLAYER’. Indeed.

12-0. Halftime.

The Dragons prance into the second half breathing fire and bleeding Ben Creagh – now with preventative tape around his skull – stretches an arm around Sammut to score a lovely try. Chesty Bond Gasnier is joyful, but Ben Creagh and the also bleeding Hornbag don’t so much look happy as they do like refugees who’ve just cleared the crest of the hill and realised they still can’t see the border. Those head injuries must be painful.

Jamie Soward marches on the spot in his little soldier dance and converts for a 12-6 score.

Only a moment later Soward passes to Josh Morris of the Amazing Morris Twins who strides through the defence and sets off sprinting for the tryline. With his long long legs he eats up the distance and dives in for a try, his regulation NRL shorts looking like natty little hotpants on his aforementioned long long legs.

Fun fact: Kiki has named her ample boobs after the Morris twins in honour of her team. I believe that lefty is Brett and righty is named Josh, but you may like to confirm that with her.

Another conversion for the Tiny Dancer Jamie Soward. 12-12.

Even more wonderfully, Andrew Johns makes a joke. AND IT’S FUNNY. He watches dancey Soward march on the spot and observes that as a retired player he has plenty of time for leisure activities, and on his last African Safari he realised this looks exactly like the mating dance of the African Love Bird. See! Funny! Good for you Joey darlin.

Flossy. Oh, Flossy. The next play sees precious little Floss kneel and reach out his arms to catch a falling bomb kicked by Penrith. Only, no catch is made. His little arms stay motionless as the ball hits the ground and bounces away. Flossy looks up, looks down at his arms. Looks up, looks down. Somehow, the ball is nowhere to be seen. And when, two minutes later, he stands and sees a slow-motion replay of the moment on the big screen, the tiny cogs in his labrador brain click into place. I DIDN’T CATCH IT. He screams fuck. It’s oddly adorable. Our hearts explode in unison from the cute.

After a slew of ridiculous penalties against the Panthers, Frank Pritchard (could he be the mysterious Big F?) reels out of a tackle to slam the back of his head against Hornbag’s right cheek. A bleeding Big F staggers away as Hornbag grabs his head and realises he now has a bleeding gash under his eye to match the seeping taped one above. MY FRICKIN EYE!

Kiki hugs a pillow and offers to kiss it better. Clearly she worries not about AIDS. Or Hep C.

In what is surely a gift from God to gay men everywhere, Brett Morris is pulled down in a tackle and his whole, bare, shining white arse is de-shorted in all it’s glory to the entire stadium and thousands of TV viewers. FM Forums have already dubbed it THE BEST DAKKING OF THE YEAR.

It really is amazing. I think we might have seen testicle. I’m kind of shocked.

Soward pops in a field goal for 13-12 but the guys from Channel 9 are too busy showing replays of Brett Morris’ arse to care.

Gouldy crows with glee ‘I told you they’d pull their pants down!’

OK I stand corrected Gouldy. But just this once.

Matty Johns skeeves into the microphone that he doesn’t know which beaches in Woollongong Bretty’s been going to but he cerrtainly doesn’t have any tan lines. He also suggests a shot of Bretty’s full moon as a future NRL ad campaign. Oh Matty, you homo. That’s why we love you.

In a final storm of anarchy, and a cutting moment of indignity, Hornbag drops the ball, falls over, and resurfaces with blood pouring from his eyes like a Latin saint.

In a highlight of the game so far they whip him off field and send him back like this.

Kiki’s being all precious about immortalising Hornbag’s humiliation, but fuck off cause she can’t type. That is HILARIOUS. Best of all is the pure rage in his eyes. Bitch knows he looks ridiculous, and he is Not Pleased with this turn of events.


The whistle blows to give the Dragons a 13-12 win but Hornbag can’t crack a smile. Physically, I mean. That tape looks tight. The draggies hug in their fleecy red robes and might I suggest that Matthew Bell come spend the night consoling himself in my pants, thanks.

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