footy observations- death cough, B.Moz and baby panthers

April 1st, 2009


Helllooooo chickens!

Apologies for the lack of posting lately. I’ve been struck down by some sort of ghastly death cough and have been struggling to breathe/walk/live for the past week. I am starting to think Greg Inglis might have constructed some sort of Kiki voodoo doll and been sticking pins into the tiny tiny doll lungs. Seriously Gregory, it’s a bit much isn’t it? Just because I bag out your bizzarely oily hair, publicly accuse you of being a traitor to your state (YOU’RE FROM NSW AND YOU KNOW IT BITCH) and loathe your team…do I really deserve this sort of vengeful treatment?

Anyway Mister Soul Glo, I get the point okay? Lay off doll Kiki for awhile will ya? For the love of god LET ME BREATHE AGAIN. Thx.

(Note that is my hair photoshopped onto a voodoo doll. I know I know, I am clever and hilarious.)

Anyway,  am one sick lady right now. Unfortunately last weekend was booked chock full weeks in advance and because I am loyal, brave and generally amazing I refused to cancel anything. Ain’t no way I was ditching Lozzy’s birthday, supporting Sassy and her woeful Chookies and most importantly (sorry girls) … my beloved Dragons returning to Kogarah.  R2K BABYYYYYY!



Ohhh my it was amazing. The refurbished stadium looks absolutely stunning and the atmosphere was electric. Yep, electric. Lets break it down shall we?

1) We had seats in the new grandstand which had the greatest view of the hill (and the footy obvs). It was bathed in glorious red and white, with only a small section of those filthy Sharks fans polluting the scene.  The first try we scored the crowd went WILD and I well….well I got goosebumps. Actual goosebumps. I showed the girls and they mocked me [I did NOT! I said ‘awww’. I get goosebumps during TV season finales. We all have our things – L]. I was mortified until Sassy reminded me of that time when we both got goosies while listening to Wes Carr’s NRL theme song in the car. Yes, we are really that lame.


2) Kogarah is such an incredible ground that Sassy has decided she is going to cheat on the Roosters and have an affair with the Dragons. Did you hear that Chooks? You drove her to footy adultery! We are currently in the process of signing her up to get a Red V membership and everything. I’m not joking people. (The fact that being a Red V member means you can go to after match functions and stalk the Big Dell is only approx 56% part of the reason she’s joining)

2) The demise of Hot Bitch Cooper. NOOOOO! I promised Lozzy an uninterrupted view of Hot Bitch for her birthday, but his hammy made a liar out of me. You see readers, seeing him on TV is one thing….but in person it’s a whole other thing. TV doesn’t capture the way he prowls around the field like he owns the bitch or bends over during plays (hello ass!). It definitely doesn’t capture his ridiculously intense sex-is-on-fireness. [I think seeing Hot Bitch in person is kind of a rite of passage. Sort of like the Bar Mitzvah or Deb Ball of Rugby League – L]

We were all soooooo sad times. Let’s console ourselves with some my own Hot Bitch photography shall we? I took these during the Titans game. There’s alot of ass because we were sitting behind the goal posts. Also, I am a pervert.



Ahhhhh yes. V.nice.

4) B.MOZZZZZZ! Oooooh we are so proud of you baby! We are absolute Morris twin freaks here at Errol. I cried sad sad tears last year when I realised they would be separated (THANKS GASNIER GRRR). My sadness was compounded this year when Bretty wasn’t named in the starting line up for the first two weeks. What an absolute bloody JOKE. I was outraged, as was everyone in the Errol office.  Even more upsetting was the fact a small percentage of Dragons (ones I don’t like…boooo!) fans took this opportunity to lay into him, call him mean names and imply he’s useless.

Well after the weekends awesome performances may I just say – NOT SO USELESS ANYMORE HUH BITCHES. SUCK IT HATERS.


He had a ripper of a game. He was all line breaks and big runs and awesomeness. And….look at that face! It would make angels weep! I think I used that expression for Shillo last year, but clearly it is even more applicable here. Anyway, Bretty is getting another run against Brisbane this Friday night and needless to say we will be cheering him on in our loungerooms. If we weren’t so lazy we would totally hit Lincraft, get busy with some glitter glue and sequins and whip up some handmade  WE LUV YOU B.MOZ t shirts. [And can I just say, I may not have got to see much of Hot Bitch for my birthday, but I did get some Bretty. THANKS UNIVERSE! – L]

Okay, now onto the other games. Yes apparently there are other teams in the NRL apart from the Dragons…who knew!

Once again I watched pretty much every game. Highlights include –

a)  the Broncos Alex Glenn giggling with delight as he scored a try against the Warriors. It was very Flossy-esque. More of that please Mr Glenn!

b) Us bursting into fits of lolz every time David Taylor came onto the screen. BABY OR BREAKFAST BURRITO?

c) The unspeakable rage of Des Hasler. Wow….just….WOW. Just when you think you’ve seen the peak of Dessie’s anger, he reaches a whole new level. Dessie’s performance in the coach’s box on Monday night was a sight to behold. I have this thing where sometimes I get so mad I don’t know how to express it and simply make lots of tiny jerky movements. Tiny tiny movements full of rage. Dessie did the exact same thing. Oh how I laughed/felt fearful for Manly players.

d) As much as it totally fucked up my tips, I was all over the Panthers gutsy win. That was some awesome football. Well done children! And yes, children is totally the appropriate word here because the games superstars were none other than our work experience boy Lachlan Coote and Errol Cutest Rookie of the Year nominee, Wade Graham.

By the way: looks like the Panthers’ Irish dancing classes were starting to kick in

At this juncture I would like to point out that we are what some would call ‘trailblazers’. Footy trailblazers.

Who wrote about Marc ‘The Herb’ Herbert before he even played a game? WE DID. Who featured Kayne Lawton in the Hot Man News months before he was picked to be a God of Football? WE DID. Who discussed Davey Williams awesomeness/hotness literally months before the rest of the world caught on? WE DID. And who hired Lachie and cooed over Wade (and his beautiful eyelashes) a loooong time before most people even knew their names? OH YEH, IT’S US.

So footy players, if you crave superstardom all you have to do is get us on side. Being an Errol favourite is like winning the lottery. Yep.

See you next week cupcakes!


meet the nominees: cutest rookie in league 2008

October 22nd, 2008

Only two awards left! Can you believe it? Time sure does fly when you’re pitting footy players against each other.

This week we’re presenting the contenders for the Fuzzy Duckling Award for the Cutest Rookie of the Year. This award honours the baby players that make our hearts explode (Please note the difference between this and the Hot Bitch Award, which makes our pants explode). The children are our future. Teach them well and let them lead the way.

And who better to present this category than Errol’s own footy rookie Lozzy? Like Lozzy, these boys have all been thrown into the strange but wonderful land of the NRL – besides Kevin Locke who is actually yet to play a first grade game, but we care not for details.

It should be noted that the Important Research we conducted for this award led us to piccies of this year’s Rookie Camp, where apparently the NRL like to break the boys’ spirits early on with Powerpoint Slideshows:


John Kite. Oh John Kite. You warm our hearts with your sunshiney glow of adorableness. Who knew 120kg could be this lovable? Not only did he provide some of the most aww stories of the year when he brought his passport on a trip to QLD, paid his own way to Melbourne after playing the NSW Cup – WITH HIS BOOTS IN CASE THEY NEEDED HIM -, and talked about his 4 sisters dressing him up as a girl (And I thought that shit was genius when Kiki told me she did it to her brother as a kid. It’s even better when the the victim is a future giant), but he just really really loves playing footy:

“Man, I am just happy to be here,” he said. “Playing first grade. This is what it is all about.”

“Playing just one game for them would have been enough to make me proud for the rest of my life.”

We wouldn’t be surprised if he nursed baby birds in his spare time.


So we don’t want to brag, but we totally discovered The Herb. He was featured in Kiki’s first ever Hot Man News, where she lovingly referred to him as ‘fresh Canberrean Meat’.

If his strawberry blonde locks weren’t enough to get him a nom, this article would be:

MARC Herbert has no tattoos. No streaks. The kid even moved back with his parents on Monday.

“So, yeah, nothing too exciting,” he smiles. “Although I do grow my hair into a bit of a mop occasionally…but then I cut it.”

“But then I cut it”. TELL IT AGAIN MARC.

Apparently there are no pictures of this particular Kevin Locke on the Internets, aside from his tiny Warriors Profile pic. There is, however, this guy – a Native American Hoop Dancer. Unfortunately not the Kevvy we’re after, but he gets a mention anyway because he’s pretty god damn fierce.

To solve this conundrum Kiki whipped up an artist’s impression of what a decent pic of this fuzzy duck nominee might look like:

Bitch is just adorable, ok?


Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. But he’s your WORK EXPERIENCE BOY! It’s not faiiiiir! Look, we may be a very Serious and Important workplace but there’s just no way we could leave out the kid who thanked all his fans in the interest of equality. Take it up with our complaints department – and by ‘complaints department’ I mean ‘Intern John-John wearing a headset and asking if he can solve your problem with a back rub – your choice of aromatic oil but he recommends Ylang Ylang’.

Plus, those baby blues! AND he’s an apprentice greenkeeper (you know, when he’s not working for us). Sigh. Oh Lachie.


I don’t actually know what to say about Wade, except have you seen those eyelashes?  I also enjoy these pics of him at rookie camp – look at him listening all attentively. And all those apples! Cute cute cute. Sassy thinks every player gets a whole plate each. I shake my fist at whoever left the apple core on the table though. DAMMIT ROOKIES, USE YOUR MANNERS. TALENT IS NEVER ENOUGH…EVER.

WHO WILL THE WINNER BE? John-John is loading up the Fuzzy Duck prize toybox as we speak, and in the interest of not spoiling any surprises we’ve given Lachie a new silkworm farm to set up out the back. Should keep him busy for a while.


the sunday afternoon recap: panthers vs raiders

August 10th, 2008
This recap is coming to you from the Canberra home ground, where it looks colder than words can possibly say, and my couch, where I’m snuggled in a blanket lying really really still and resting my feet gingerly on the heater because even they hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


footy observations – fugitivity + fuckability

July 31st, 2008

Oh children. The drama! THE DRAMA! My ticker can’t take it. The poor little thing is on struggle street. Aunty Kiki needs a very very strong drink. A Valium martini even (extra olives pls).

Rugby League has always been delightfully dramatic. Melodramatic even. It’s part of it’s charm. Shit is never boring. But recently we have reached entirely new levels of dramz. I never thought the words ‘international manhunt’ would be used in a league article. But here we are, with our very own Sonny Bill shaped fugitive. On the run from the lawwwws. It wasn’t him, IT WAS THE ONE ARMED MAAAAN!

You heard it here first kids. I for one can’t believe that SBW has managed to stay unfound for this long. I was sure he would get sprung crying IT’S BECAUSE IM POLYNESIAN ISN’T IT at a shopkeeper who told him he can’t use Australian money in the UK.

In these uncertain times, one must take comfort in the familar. Let us ignore Sonny Bill’s histronics and retreat to our favourite activity – sexually objectifying football players. Together, we will weather this storm using their bulging biceps and glistening thighs. Shelter in the hot babies, shelter in the hot.

In last weeks Hot Man News, I introduced you a few young guns of the cute persuasion. Lets check back with them shall we? Everyone loves an update!

I am happy to report that Marc-with-a-C Herbert had a cracker of a debut game and we couldn’t be prouder. We like to think he read the Hot Man News and was emboldened by it. And by all accounts he seems like a lovely young boy.

MARC Herbert has no tattoos. No streaks. The kid even moved back with his parents on Monday.

“So, yeah, nothing too exciting,” he smiles. “Although I do grow my hair into a bit of a mop occasionally . . . but then I cut it.”

AAAAW! Bet he has never pissed on someone hmmmm Todd Carney! Sassy and I watched him lead the Raiders to a 46 – 4 victory against the Titans on Saturday evening. And by ‘watched’ I mean sit at the Henson Park Hotel, sink schooeys and yell sexually inappropriate remarks at the TV screen. Much to the amusement of the old boilers around us. Anyway, well done kitten, you look adorable on TV.

I am however not pleased with the recent developments on John Williams’ face. On Friday night I tuned in to watch The Worst Game of The Year (Parra v Cowboys) thinking sweeeeet at least I can perve on JohnJohn Williams. But nooooooooo he had to go and grow some sort hair based monstrosity on his face didn’t he? NO JOHN JOHN NO! You see, baby, the beard is your brothers thing. Your thing is to be hot, clean cut and barely clothed. The thing you were sporting on Friday night doesn’t even look like a real beard. It looks like the eyeshadow beard I created for Daniel Freeman in our high school production of Into The Woods.

[I actually would like to point out to JohnJohn that his beard is heading dangerously into Kevin-the-straight-guy from Project Runway territory:

Shave immediately pls. – Sassy]

Now lets talk about Kayne Lawton. Oh, KayLaw. You are by far my greatest achievement. We discovered you mister, and don’t you forget about it. The amount of google searches we have had about you this week is unbelievable. It’s almost a…movement. AND ALL THANKS TO US. In my mind you didn’t exist until we blogged about you. You can thank us by wearing 70s shorty shorts and cleaning my pool.

(Note – Sassy is making noise about discovering Kayne and I guessss technically she did. So KayLaw please direct your sexual favours to the one with the fro.)

Kayne is so visually pleasant that he has my brothers girlfriend (hi Jade!) actively watching under 20s Titans games and messaging me about it. This is a girl who up until a few months ago would roll her eyes everytime footy was discussed. Kayne has The Power my friends. David Gallop, if you’re reading this (what am I saying ‘if’ for, I know you are)….please, for the love of all that is good and holy – use KayLaw’s molten hotness in next years ad campaign. Provided you have any money left over from suing Sonny Bill’s tanty throwing ass.

(To the straight mans reading this – I know I know, perviness overload. Im soz. I promise I’ll do a post about you know…actual football this weekend. I swear!)


the hot man news

July 23rd, 2008

We here at Oh Errol are nothing if not dedicated journalists. Committed to bringing you the most important news from around Australia and beyond.

And is there any news more important than hot mans in the NRL? I say no. Thanks to Bobby our reporter in the field, it has come to our attention that this weekend we will be treated to some fresh Canberran meat. Yes I am aware of how creepy that sounds, but I enjoy my sentence regardless. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Raiders young buck (Bobby’s words) Marc-with-a-C Herbert!

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Look at that hair! Its strawberry blond deliciousness. He is thisclose to having a 1970s mop. Keep growing it baby! We are enthusiastic supporters of hair here at Errol. Hair love! The more hair, the better. On your head anyway. Although NRL players, may I just remind you that men are SUPPOSED to have body hair and religiously removing yours so you look like hairless cat is positively unattractive. No woman wants to hump a hairless man. No woman whose existence we approve of anyway.

Anyway, yes…MARC HERBERT! I hope for the sake of our eyes (and pants) that Captain Urination spends a lengthy stint on the sideline. We need more luxurious manes in rugby league. Although to be honest, no one can ever begin to come close to Dessy Hasler. BEST.HAIR.EVER. I’m convinced he’s got Kennedy blood running through those veins.

Readers, I’m also happy to report the future of NRL Hotness is looking bright. Incandescent even. I didn’t think Prince Scott the Caramel could get any more awesome, but he has. You see, he has been keeping his eye out for hotness north of the border. We didn’t even ask him to. He’s so pro-active! Keep this up and he may even join Brownie as an Errol intern. Lucky! So future intern, what have you got for us this evening?

“He is a freak,” said premiership-winning captain Prince. “I just shake my head.

“I have been doing weights for seven or eight years now and I haven’t got half the body that kid has.”

“I haven’t seen him play yet, but seeing him train in the gym with us, he has definitely got an athlete’s body,” said Prince.

Translation = THIS KID IS HOT.

Straight man code is so easy to decipher. You guys totally need to up the cagey factor if you wanna get one by us. It’s almost sad.

Anyway, Scotty… in your eagerness to describe the kids muscles of granite you forgot to to tell us his name. If you weren’t so busy eye raping him you woulda said “his name is Kayne Lawton.” You disgust me Prince. Objectifying a teenager like that. Have you no shame?

Seriously though, holy mother of GOD. Eighteen?? How is this possible? Wow just….wow. Hot Bitch Cooper, baby, you have an heir to the throne.

And finally, in the requisite human interest story that always concludes the news, let us talk about John Williams. Props to the mama and papa Williams who not only gave us The Hot Pioneer, but also produced the physical perfection that is his brother John. I would like to take this opportunity to say that my best mate knows the Williams from around the traps and thought I did too. We recently had a conversation that went something like –

K- You know who I love? The crazy bearded winger at Manly. David Williams.
S – Yeh we know him! And his brother! You know him Kiki…Hotdog! He plays for the Cowboys.

Um, no. No I don’t. Sure my memory is god awful (thanks vodka), but I’m preeeetttty sure I would remember a) a man called Hotdog and b) my eyes seeing THIS –

And that concludes the news for tonight. Go fuck yourselves, San Diego.

Hot Naked John thanks to the lovely Artie at FM Forums.