FOOTY! YOU’RE BACK! Oh baby, how I’ve missed you. Come here, sit on my lap and I’ll show you just how much.

Bet you guys missed horrifically creepy sentences like that one…right? Well never fear my darlings, now the footy season is back you can enjoy them at least once a week. I thought you might like to see the terrifying adorable bear card I picked out for Hot Bitch Cooper. For some reason he sent me an AVO in return. A rather obscure way of showing his appreciation but apparently thats how he rolls.

I had a few invitations for outings over the weekend but bitches be trippin if they think I am going to leave the house on the opening weekend of the season. I am proud to admit that I watched every single game. Okay, that’s a lie. I turned off Panthers v Sharks halfway through because it was, to be frank, a festival of crap. I made up for this by watching  the Baby Eels vs Baby Warriors. I adore the Under 20′s games. Why? Because the babies get SO!EXCITED! by everything. It’s like watching puppies and kittens…..if they wore footy uniforms and tackled each other. Or something.

The new Toyota Cup promo shots delighted the Errol Office

I was planning on doing a full recap. But now I’m not. Because I really like point form. It makes me happy. Also, it’s my blog and I can do what I want.

a) Seeing my boys line up for the national anthem gave me actual goosebumps. This is the first emotional response I’ve had since the World Cup finished. Apparently I turn into a sociopath of sorts during the off season.

b) I LOVED seeing Uncy Wayne wearing Dragons merch. Especially loved the fact he was rocking crumpled cargo shorts and sneakers when other coaches are all buttoned up in stuffy uncomfortable suits. This is coz people with nothing to prove don’t have to dress up. Which is why I reguarly wear trackies to restaurants (I wish I was joking).

c) Apparently in his excitement for the new season, Greg Inglis accidentally spilt an entire tub of gel on his head. Listen Greg, I know it’s sometimes hard to gauge the exact amount of hair product that’s right for your hair but daaaaaaamn. That was some straight up Soul Glo shit.

He was so….greasy. I half expected a trainer to run out and start mopping his hair with a towel. Surely a head that slippery is against the rules some how? He was slipping through tackles all over the place! Oh he also played brilliantly and caused me to write FUCKING SHIT FUCK INGLIS BOOO STORM DIEEEE in my notes. True story.

d) It seems both teams were doing their best to provide the lolz. It was a deadset slapstick comedy fest out there. I am 73% certain this is because everyone in the NRL wants nothing more than to appear on Errol. Soooo…congratulations to Anthony Quinn who got hammered in a tackle and then got up and…wait for it….played the ball the wrong way. Even better than that was the look on his face when he realised he just embarassed himself in front of thousands of people. Brilliant. I love public humiliation, especially when the subject is wearing a Storm uniform.

And equal congratulations to Beau Scott  and a Melbourne player whose name I don’t remember, who managed to some pull off of Cirque De Soleil move during a tackle. Which concluded in Beau-Beau being horizontally FLIPPED onto the turf. Tres acrobatic boys. You two have a career in the circus beckoning.

e) HORNBAG! Okay well everyone will remember this game for his no no times, but I for one would prefer to focus on the positive. Because I am nothing if not an enternal optimist. He is now the full time captain (which we campaigned for last year just btw), scored a lovely try, looked totally cute with his off season tan and has apparently acquired some  snazzy new red boots. Or as my mother called them ‘Hornbag’s pretty ruby slippers’.

f) And the piece de resistance of the entire evening. THE RETURN OF EBONY AND IVORY!  Hot Bitch and Big Dell!  Just for the record, we totally picked this manlove affair like 6 months ago. We be psychic and shit.

Seriously, their try was one of the most awesome moments of my footy fan career to date. Dell in general is ridiculously amazing, even when he is playing silly buggers and accidentally kicking grubbers over the sideline. Instead of yelling obscenities at the TV like I do with every other player, I simply giggle and say things like “Oh Dell, you so funny”.

What I love about Dell is he is about 47 years old, a teeny bit fat and always drenched in perspiration….yet he continues to back himself and make big breaks. AND IT WORKS! I especially love that he sent my imaginary mans Hot Bitch Cooper in for the actual try. Sharing, caring and living together in perfect harmonnnnnny.

And yes, as everyone keeps reminding me, my boys lost. But unlike alot of other Dragons fans I wasn’t particularly upset. Last year we wouldn’t have ever got that close to victory against the Storm. The boys never gave up. Their discipline was VASTLY improved (to say the least), their passing was short, sharp and to the point and well…they looked like contenders. For the first time since 2005. Mark my words readers, the Dragons are gonna be a force to be reckoned with this year. YES, A FORCE.

Oh, and despite the horrific irony of the NRL’s new tagline being ‘Feel It’, I kinda really sorta totally love the song. I may or may not have downloaded it on Itunes and danced around my living room occasionally pretending to score a try.

In conclusion, I love you football. Pls never leave me again.

You’ve been on the edge of your seats waiting for the Oh Errol Awards winners post, right? I imagine it’s the same sort of anticipation we’re experiencing waiting for 17 Again. And just like how we’re dyyying to see Zeffie in the full glory of his Ed Hardy getup, our fanz are dyyying for these results. Who is the Fattest Man in League? Who will take out Best Hair? The time has come, babies.

But wait, you haven’t announced the Matt Cooper Award for Hottest Bitch in League nominees!?

DAMMIT. You kids and your eye for awards categories – we were hoping you wouldn’t notice. Look, we totally tried to write it. For reals. And then this happened:

After taking one look at Hot Bitch Cooper naked with a footy strategically placed under his perfectly sculpted man-v, we realised no one can ever beat  (unless he asked nicely) that and the category was therefore null and void. NULL AND VOID PEOPLE.

So after many long, hard (tee hee) nights of  drinking straight from the bottle decision making, we finally present to you:

THE OH ERROL AWARDS 2008 WINNERS

The Marlon Brando (the later years) Award for the Fattest Man in League

The Nominees:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that’s it kids. You satisfied yet?

(naked John from Naked For A Cause)

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra Shaw/Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

David immediately regretted his decision to groom his beard during play

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

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

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

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

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

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

goldcoast.com.au

Gosh, he’s pretty.

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

Illawarra Mecury

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

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

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

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

It’s that time of year! First of all I just have to mention that last night, at the Hordern Pavilion, travel-size Matt Orford took home the Dally M Award for player of the year.

Chris ‘Sonic’ Sandow was Rookie of the Year, and much-loved ginger statesman Alan Tongue was Captain of the Year.

We have to mention it because … um, wait one sec- … oh yes, because it’s prestigious. Very prestigious.  I always forget that there are other Awards shows than the Errols.

The Dally M Awards ceremony is the glamour event of the Rugby League calendar, the night of nights, the Oscars of the NRL.

And of course I don’t mean to be disrespectful at all if, while I’m watching it, I giggle a little bit at how uncomfortable NRL players look in their suits and squeal things like ‘it’s like watching a dog walk on it’s hind-legs! … or a bear ride a BICYCLE!’ every time a player pulled at his tie or squirmed on-stage.

I just really love that they make the boys get dressed up and feel awkward to get their awards.  It’s so cruel.  Like forcing kids to sit through school speech night in their blazers in the middle of December.

Anyway.  Congratulations Matty and Alan and Chris and all the other winners. Love and kisses from the Errol girls for your very fine footballing. I hope that during your reign on the Dally M Throne you do all you can to promote world peace and help alll the children of the world.

In other news, I have been pretty zen so far about this whole Death of Rugby League drama.  There’s a lot of distress about players leaving the NRL, but I kinda figured if players want to go live in Kamp Khoder and play French Rugby or move to Super League then they’re going to do it whether we all have conniptions or not.  Right?

Not any more kittens. That was way back when we were just talking about Mark Gasnier, Luke Rooney, Sonny Bill Feelings, and maaaaaybe Greg Inglis.  Now, it seems, we’re talking about BIG DELL.

Apparently Dell might move to Super League next year.  DELL. SUPER LEAGUE.  This is the last straw bitches!  As if I’m not upset enough already that Willie Mason is injured and won’t play again until halfway through next season.  Because I can handle giving up my totally awesome Sonny Bill Feelings jokes, and I can live without Gasnier’s flashes of brilliance … but Big Dell is hilarious.  Forget about football, bitch makes me laugh.

And unless it’s to the hospital to rub Big Willie Mason’s back while he recovers from knee surgery, then I don’t want Wendell Sailor going anywhere.  DO YOU HEAR THAT DELL?

There’s also the little matter of one Matt ‘Hot Bitch’ Cooper: for years the devoted left centre to Mark Gasnier’s right, the 4 to his 3, the Robin to his Batman, the Albert to his Queen Victoria.

When Monsieur Gaz announced his departure at the end of the season to play Rugby in France we were deeply worried about how our Hot Bitch would fare without his loving manpanion beside him on the field.

We were so worried, in fact, that when it finally started to look like Hot Bitch was moving on into a bromance with the Dell, we were so relieved we didn’t even notice that Lachie had accidentally come to work in his jammies again.

Still, it goes without saying that we are Not Impressed with the prospect of Dell leaving. Hasn’t Hot Bitch been through enough? A heart can only take so much breakin, you know.

WON’T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE HOT BITCH?

I personally think the Roosters Toyota Cup team were all cut up about this issue too, because I don’t quite know how else to explain them going crazy on Friday night. There was KICKING and everything.

The chicks just … lost their shit against the Dragons, and managed a whole new special kind of brawling hat trick when three of them were sent off.  And, um, I guess well done kids?  It is quite impressive to win a game playing 10 men on 13, but in general – honeys no.  Stop that please.  At least until I’ve had a drink.

The chicks and their 10-man win might make the Raiders feel a little better though.  Apparently the Canberra Raiders have also been to the Springfield Mystery Spot, because like the Bulldogs … they just have no players left. Literally, not enough able-bodied men to make a full first-grade side.

The Queanbeyan library is TOTALLY UNDERSTAFFED.  EMERGENCY! WHO WILL OPERATE THE MICROFICHE?

Little Cy Lasscock (heh, Lasscock) from the Under-20s might even have to try and pull a John Kite and back up from playing the the Toyota Cup semi-finals for the Raiders semi-final against the Sharks.

Either way, my advice to the Canberra kiddies is to take a leaf out of the Bulldog’s book and ease the pain of being in a totally shit situation by having a ridiculous French-themed party.

Oh, those crazy Bulldogs!  Ringing in Mad Monday by dressing as Frenchmen.  Nothing makes you feel better about a complete annus horribilis like a dress-up party does, especially if your costume includes a bitchy dig at Sonny Bill Feelings. (Except for in the case of Reni Maitua, who apparently is Too Cool to dress up.  Bitch please).

Luke Patten and mystery man:

original pics: News Limited

… you are my new heroes.

And lastly I wanna say HAY to all the boys who stayed scoreless this year and were forced to nudie run on Monday.  Hope it wasn’t too cold, kids.

So yeh, it’s Wednesday and I am only just now writing my weekend recap. People have been hassling my ass since Saturday night to write about the Dragons. CALM DOWN BITCHES! I know Errol is your crack but Aunty Kiki has got Things To Do. Like spending 20 minutes in the deli section at Woolworths trying to decide what sort of cheese to get (I went with Jarlsberg if you’re wondering) and watching Law and Order SVU repeats while I organise my nailpolish by season. Everyone knows you can’t rock black nails past August and I like to be prepared. OKAY?

Dad and I decided it was worth the trek to the Cavernous Shithole (aka ANZ Stadium) to watch our Dragons in action. Turned out to be totally worth it. What a cracker of a game! More a thrashing than a cracker but whatevs. My babies breathed fire and burnt those Eels to a crisp. Oh yeh!

Let’s break things down shall we?

1) I spent the entire game yelling things like GO HOT BITCH! And GOOD BOY FLOSSY! EXCELLENT WORK! People kept shooting me glares of death and confusion. It had me perplexed. Until I realised not everyone in the world reads Errol. Poor unfortunate souls, living their whole lives without Knowing our genius. I will not rest until I hear Rabs saying things like “and that’s a beautiful try from Hot Bitch Cooper”. Then Gus chimes in with “set up by a maaaagical offload from Flossy Nightingale”. WILL.NOT.REST.

2) The dackings. Oh, the dackings. Obviously my eyes are always a) on the ball and b) on the ass. I’m a woman, I can multitask. Theres alot of subtle arse crack flashing in league, but Saturday night was a deadset Assathon. ASSATHON O8! I said out loud OH THE GAYS ARE GONNA LOVE THIS, much to the distaste of the old men sitting next to me. There were four separate dackings. It must be a record. FOUR! Three to Josh Morris, one to Jarryd Hayne.

Dedicated journalists posess a great attention to detail. They go to painstaking efforts to bring you all the facts. No half assed (heheh assed) reporting for me. So with no further ado I bring to you, in an Errol exclusive, not one..not even three…but ALL FOUR dackings!

ONE

TWO

 THREE

 FOUR

Oh yeh, I’m gonna win a Walkley for this shit.

3) Now lets move from gratutious nudity to heart warming fuzziness. Kiddies, I shed an actual tear the other night. Let me make this clear, I am not a particularly emotional person. Well not for a girl. Everyone I know thinks I’m a man trapped in a womans body. Or as my best mate so eloquently put it “I love you because you’re like a guy….but with tits!”. Nice.

I have an aversion to public weeping but oh my god those Dragons bastards, they killed me. KILLED ME! First of all they bring out groups of tiny kids to sit on tiny tiny chairs while giant Dragons players read them books. Apparently the Dragons are involved in some sort of reading program. The sight of a hulking forward perched on a teeny little chair whilst animatedly reading a childrens book got me right in the ovaries.

THEN, in my softened up state, the bastards play a farewell montage dedicated to Brownie, Gaz, Ryles and McGregor. I’m talking slow-mo footage, sad music, the whole works. AND I CRIED. In public! I AM SO EMBARRASSED.

4) I’m not gonna lie, watching Big Dell score a hat trick was one of my Best Footy Moments to date. Another was when Michael Devere had a giant gash in his head put back together with a staple gun on the sideline during State of Origin. AMAZING. Everytime Dell even looked like getting the ball the crowd just lost their minds. Only Dell could create actual atmosphere inside that stadium.

abcnet.au

When he grabbed that intercept and scored in the middle of the posts I may or may not stood up and yelled GO YOU GOOD THING, pumped my fist and then knocked over my entire drink. It really is a mystery why I’m single. Such grace, such elegance.

Meanwhile my Dad has a total mancrush on Dell. He talked about him literally the entire game. Yeh yeh, I get it Dad…the man is an amazing athlete.

5) Speaking of mancrushes, I am sensing the formation of some serious Man Love within the Dragons. For years Hot Bitch Cooper and Gaz were the faux couple of the red and white. But things have changed. Gaz is leaving. Leaving his love behind. Since his announcement I’ve been truly worried about Hot Bitch and his obviously broken heart. Well I can worry no more!

In the middle of the game I get a text from Sassy saying “I think Hot Bitch is moving on. Look at the way he’s smiling at Dell. It’s LOVE Kiki!”.

And she’s right. It was a beautiful sight. I haven’t seen Hot Bitch smile like that in MONTHS. Coops doesn’t need you any more Gaz! All he needs is the Big Dell. Together they are side by side on the piano keyboard, living together in perfect haaaaarmony.

And oh the joys that Dell has ahead of him. Like a romantical evening on the harbour with an underweared Hot Bitch.

Cosmopolitan Magazine

I hope they don’t mind if I join them. And by ‘join them’ I mean putter along behind their cruiser in a tinny, looking through binoculars and yelling HOT BITCH PLEASE LIVE IN MY PANTS. It’s gonna be great.

(Assathon pics from the lovely Artie at FM forums and our fave blog)

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

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

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

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

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

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

League HQ

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

Sandra Mu/ Getty Images

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

League HQ

Gaz converts. We go halftime at 16-6.

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

Annnnnd we’re back!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right. So as much as I love ignoring people and doing whatever the hell I want, there comes a time when every blogger/visionary must appease her readers/lowly subjects. It appears some of our male readers feel a tad uncomfortable with the amount of hot man-flesh on display here at Errol. The occasional complaints have now risen to a deafening roar of OMG MY BOSS THINKS I’M A HOMO NOW and KIKI! TOO MUCH MATT COOPER IN HIS UNDIES!

First of all there is no such thing as too much Hot Bitch Cooper in his undies. That’s like saying ‘please! no more orgasms!’. Secondly, what the hell are you all doing reading us at work? You should be ashamed of yourselves! We here at Errol do not stand for blatant time wasting in our office. We are nothing if not industrious.

Being a decidedly laissez-faire workplace, we briefly trialled unlimited internet usage for our employees. Needless to say it didn’t end well. Intern Greg Bird ignored his pile of work and spent hours buying ladies Chanel sunglasses on Ebay and Intern Brownie wasted an entire week investigating black market scalp transplants. Worst of all, thanks to Google, work experience boy John-John Williams discovered that nudist resorts exist in Australia. Then spent our entire Christmas party fund booking us all in for a holiday. WITHOUT OUR CONSENT. Unmitigated disaster!

Obviously, we now monitor our boys very closely.

I would like to point out that a) there has never been complete man-nudity and b) I think most of you are using the ‘someone will think I’m gay’ excuse when really it’s just because Hot Bitch’s perfectly sculpted abs make you feel bad about yourselves. BUT because I love you all, I am prepared to compromise. Never will I stop e-objectifying footy players (NEEEVVVVEEER!) but from now on whenever I post a bit of skin, this graphic will appear.

Now onto the footy.

Confirming the worst kept secret of the year, Darius Boyd has finally  announced his move to my beloved Dragons. I can’t believe the Dragons even bothered with a press release when everyone already knew of the signing. Waste of paper! Enviromental vandalism! I don’t quite know how I feel about Boyd yet. I feel like a stranger is moving into my house. I mean really, who IS this man? Will we be compatible? How does he feel about low fat milk and chore rosters? What incarnation of Law and Order does he prefer? I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HIM!

Actually, scratch that. I now know he’s a briefs man.

Good to know.

In other Dragons news, Big Dell made yet another return to first grade on Friday night. What is that now…three returns? Are they still classified as returns? It’s so confusing. Clearly he should just be there every single week. Why? Partly because of his newly grown fu-manchu moustache. But mostly because have you ever seen anyone this pumped to score a try?

Amazing.

I wish I had time for more blogging, but alas I have to depart. We are off to the Steve Menzies Tribute Dinner tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing. Intern Brownie is hemming my dress and I need to be in it. As usual John-John is of absolutely no help. He keeps running around yelling YEEEHA! SAVE A HORSE…RIDE A COWBOY! He just loves Rodeo Wednesday.

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

Christmas in July? Pfffft. Who wants to spend a boring weekend in a Blue Mountains B&B rolling about in fake snow? No one, thats who. You know what they don’t have for Christmas in July? Hot shirtless football players.

Here at Errol we are all about Christmas in August. We celebrate Hot Man Christmas. With much fervour. Intern Brownie has helped us decorate the office with fairy lights and tinsel. He is suprisingly adept at interior design.

As usual, Intern GregBird contributed little to nothing and spent the whole time sprawled on the lounge yelling LOWER…NOW TO THE LEFT while stuffing his face with mince pies. Then I ‘accidentally’ spilt egg nogg on his leg and told the rest of the office it was jizz. Oh, how he cried.

And our new work experience boy John-John Williams has really got into the spirt by wandering about wearing nothing but a Santa hat. What can we say, he just Likes Being Naked. Who are we to object?

Anyway, last night on The Footy Show Santa delivered our presents. In the form of our favourite boys wearing not much more than a bow. Apparently we have been very very good girls this year because the hotness was staggering.

Okay, full disclosure time. We all wanted to blog about Hot Man Christmas but I was the only one who had the self control to stop humping the lounge and actually type. Because I am a nothing if not a Dedicated and Professional journalist.

Last nights segment on the new Gods of Football calendar brought two of our favourite things – hotness and lolz.

THE HOT

1) The words ‘god’ and ‘football’ cannot be spoken without mentioning Hot Bitch Cooper, and thankfully the wise calendar makers agree. I literally have no words for how these photos make me feel. So lets use maths instead.

Hot Bitch + little clothing = happy Pink V

2) I love it when Santa brings suprises. Imagine our excitement when we unwrapped Davey Williams! SQUEEEE! We really weren’t expecting that. We thought we were the only ones who appreciated his awesome Daveyness. Actually, we would like to take credit for starting the entire ‘David Williams is attractive’ movement. His appearance in the calendar is clearly directly related to us and no one will tell me any different.

As we always suspected, The Hot Pioneer is well….hot. Sassy was overwhelmed with a sudden urge to convert to Christianity after witnessing Dave bear a striking resemblance to Jesus. A sexy sexy Jesus. He even rocked a crucifixion pose. HALLELUJAH!

Oh and that smile?? Wow….just wow.

3) Another delightful suprise was the appearance of David Shillington. Rabs calls him a ‘big impressive thing’ and after seeing this footage we have to agree. We are all over that chest hair. It’s fucking great.

I’ve seen Shillo clad in only undies with my own eyes and I have to say…it is quite the sight. TEAM SHILLO!

4) The hot hooker! Matt Ballin, our very own Errol personal trainer, is flashing his perfectly toned body for the calendar. All those extra push ups have really paid off Bal. I’ll see you for our boxing session on Tuesday.

Wait is that…is he…wearing lipgloss?

5) Nathanael Barnes I have absolutely no idea who you are, but godamn you are a welcome addition under my Hot Man Christmas tree.

THE LOLZ

1) The Manly boys certainly drew the short straw in the underwear department. The cruel wardrobe mistresses decided to dress them in horrifying white boxer shorts. Baggy, voluminous WHITE boxer shorts. They look like something a grumpy nurse would dress you before you’re wheeled in for surgery.

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

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

3) And the Roosters are a 90s boy band on the set of their new video ‘Shirt Off For Love’. By the way, their second single ‘Trimmed Pubes Are For Winners’ is an absolute cracker.

4) This one needs no explanation.

Something tells me underweared horseplay in an alley isn’t entirely unusual for these two.

5) Shaun Kenny Dowall arrived on set late and was stuck with the shit undies. THOSE ARE FOR LADIES SHAUN. THEY ARE BIKINI BRIEFS.

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

But by far our favourite moment of last nite was our adorable ginger kitten Ranga Josh competing in the quiz. He promised he would flash us the peace sign as a visual shout out and HE DID! Amazing. He is now the official Oh Errol mascot. WE LOVE YOU RANGA JOSH!

Go register for your preview of the calendar here. And make sure you buy one. It’s for charity so we demand it. Happy Hot Man Christmas babies!

(Massive thanks to our all time favourite blog for all the amazing caps. We love you matey!)

We are proud, a little bit giddy and alot intoxicated to announce that this year, you have something to look forward to in the sad lull that comes between the Rugby League Grand Final in October and the supercrazypartyfuntimes intense competition of the rugby league World Cup. And isn’t that gonna be a great contest? Almost as compelling as the Commonwealth Games! Can you feel the excitement??

Anyway, that something is the 2008 Oh Errol Awards. We like to call them The Errols.

Today we will announce the nominees in all seven award categories. The lucky winners will receive their Errols at our glittering and illustrious awards ceremony in the Erskineville Bowling Club (beer on tap, food provided from the Chinese Bistro window). Hold onto your hats, bitches. Hereeeeee we go!

The Marlon Brando (the later years) Award for the Fattest Man in League

That’s right boys, this could be your future. Living as an eccentric recluse on an remote tropical island. Daily battling out-of-control bloating and the urge to wear nothing but muu-muus. Creepy companion midget is optional.

Past winners include Arthur Beetson and Daryl Brohman.

This year’s lucky nominees are: